Chapter 21
Chapter Twenty-One
LEWIS
A.K.A. The Arsehole
T onight was worth every moment of planning, strategy, and money that it took to make it happen. God, the scent and softness of her lustrous skin. The feel of her slim body beneath my fingers. Absolute heaven. No doubt she’s hated being away from my touch as much as I’ve loathed being away from her.
But not for long.
I watched her all evening, moving around the room, smiling. Laughing. Her elegance and sophistication are so effortless.
She was with a man, but when she was finally alone, I made my move, and it was everything I’d hoped for. She’s gained weight, and that will have to come off, of course.
My tiny dancer has to look a certain way.
But her dress was beautiful, and when I leaned in to say hello and pressed my lips to her ear, I swear I heard her gasp with lust.
It thrilled her to see me as much as it did me to see her.
I had to rush to the men’s room and lock myself in a stall and stroke myself until I came all over my hand. My attraction to her is so intense. I wish I’d had time to invite her with me, to boost her up against the wall and rut myself into her until I filled her with my release.
Next time.
And there will be a next time.
As soon as I figure out where my tiny dancer is hiding, I’ll make her mine.