Chapter 29
Chapter
Twenty-Nine
Alejandro
Alana and I ate dinner, and I suggested we go to bed with the intention of fucking her senseless—again.
But she saw that some movie she wanted to watch was on and pleaded with me to watch it, and I should probably give her a break.
I fuck her far too frequently for her comfort, not to mention my sanity.
It’s the latter that makes me agree to the movie idea, and I regret it almost instantly. It’s awful, centering on a group of college roommates who spend most of their lives getting wasted.
I lie on the bed, scrolling through my cell phone while she lies with her head at the other end, propped up on her elbows and laughing every five minutes.
I’m engrossed in a chain of emails between Jax and one of our partners in Nevada when I feel her hand on my thigh. “Are you not enjoying the movie?”
“It’s not really my kind of movie. I never did that whole college thing, going out and getting wasted every weekend.”
“Well, neither did I,” she says. “But it’s just a movie.”
“You went to college though, yes?”
“Yeah, I did. But I never did any of the regular college kid stuff. I had to work for my dad almost every weekend.” She turns off the TV mid movie and stretches out beside me.
“It was kind of awful though. The movie, not working for my dad.” She snorts a laugh, such an unguarded reaction that it makes me smile.
“So you never went out and partied like a regular college student?”
“Not much. I did a few times.” She shrugs. “I used to go to this great club in New York with my friend Kelsey. I only went a few times though. Not nearly as much as I should have.”
I slip my hand under her T-shirt and trace lazy circles over her abdomen. “Do you wish you’d gone out and gotten drunk a little more?”
“I wish I’d danced more. I love dancing. I don’t think I danced enough.”
I’m hit with an unfamiliar urge to put her smile back on her face. “You love dancing? Then let’s go dancing.”
“What? Right now?”
“Yes. Now.”
She shakes her head and glances at the clock. “But it’s late.”
“It’s ten p.m.”
“I have nothing to wear.”
I climb off the bed and pull her up with me. She shifts awkwardly from one foot to the other, but her brown eyes are sparkling with excitement. “We’re only going to a club, Alana. Wear a skirt and a tank top.” I slap her on the ass. “Now go get dressed and I’ll take you dancing.”
She rewards me with a wide, genuine smile that makes my heart race. Then she heads to the bathroom, wiggling her sexy ass as she goes. My dick twitches just watching her.
What the fuck am I doing here? I’m dangerously close to straying into a more-than-sex arrangement. This feels like a date. Can I date my wife?
She pops her head out of the bathroom, beaming. “Just give me twenty minutes and I’ll be ready. Okay?” she asks like she thinks I might change my mind.
I nod.
Looks like I’m taking my wife on a date.
We head to the private VIP area of the club, and I slide into the booth beside Alana. A waitress brings over a couple glasses, an ice bucket containing a bottle of champagne, and one with a bottle of vodka.
Alana glances around wide-eyed, her head on a swivel. “This is nothing like the clubs I’m used to,” she shouts over the thumping music.
Why haven’t I done this before now? Alana is the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, and I find that I like showing her off. I like that other people see her and want what they absolutely cannot fucking have. Because she is mine.
The Naked Flame is the hottest club in LA.
Even on a weeknight, it’s packed. It’s a hot spot for the LA elite.
People with more money than sense think nothing of dropping a few thousand dollars a night in the place.
And being here with my wife, with the bass pounding through my muscles and her sitting next to me in her tiny little skirt while we’re surrounded by hundreds of people is making me harder than iron.
I press my mouth to her ear. “Take off your panties, princesa.”
She blinks at me. “Here?”
I nod. “Si. Here. Now.”
She glances around nervously. Although the club is packed, we’re in the most secluded part of it, behind a rope that’s guarded by four of my men. She chews on her lower lip for a few seconds, and then she discreetly removes her panties.
I hold out my hand, and she places them in my palm. Resisting the urge to press them to my face and inhale her sweet scent, I stuff them into my pocket instead and pour us each a glass of champagne.
She sips hers delicately, her feet tapping and her shoulders moving to the music, her eyes on the dance floor. “I love watching people dance,” she declares.
I slip an arm around her waist and pull her closer. “Aren’t you going to dance for me?”
She laughs and holds up her glass. “I think I’ll need a few more of these first.”
“Then drink up. There’s plenty more where that came from. Or are you unable to handle your champagne as well as your Scotch?”
Her brown eyes narrow, and her tongue darts out to wet her luscious lower lip.
I knew she’d see that as the challenge it was.
She chugs the whole glass of champagne and holds it out for a refill.
I fill it for her, and while she’s still focused on the people around us, I can do nothing but watch her.
She leans back against the seat with a contented smile on her face.
My eyes are drawn to her thighs. Her skirt is so short it barely covers her ass cheeks when she’s sitting like this. And I know exactly what else is under there. My obsession. My nirvana. Just inches away. I can still smell and taste her from earlier in my study, and it’s driving me wild.
I slide my free hand between her thighs, running my fingertips along her warm, soft skin.
Her breath catches in her throat and her champagne glass trembles in her hand.
Undeterred, I probe further, gliding my hand all the way to her pussy and sliding two fingers through her center.
She’s already wet. My dirty little princesa.
I angle my body to shield her from view as I slip a finger inside her.
She groans loudly at first, then seems to remember where we are. “Alex, please don’t,” she says even as her hips rock into my finger.
“Don’t what?”
“Please don’t make me come in the middle of this club.”
I brush my thumb over her clit and she shivers. “Relax, Alana. No one can see us here.” I kiss her neck and she shivers again.
Her hand grips my forearm, fingers clawing at my suit jacket as I slowly slide my finger in and out of her dripping wet opening. “But they might have security cameras here recording us.”
“They don’t. Not here.”
“H-how do you know that?”
“Because this is my club.”
She gasps. “Can’t we just wait until we get home?” She places her glass on the table and holds onto my forearm with both hands now, as though that might be enough to deter me.
I nip her neck. “You seem to forget who’s in charge here.”
She tips her head back, allowing me better access to her sweet-scented skin. “I haven’t forgotten. How could I when you remind me every single day?”
“So behave and let me make you come. You’re fucking soaking my fingers already. I know you want this.”
She hisses out a breath. “Why do you have a booth in your club with no security cameras? How many women have you fucked in here?”
So she’s jealous—and I am a man on the edge. Why does she have to push me? Can she not just do as she’s fucking told? “I have never been unfaithful to you.”
She grits her teeth. “I am your wife, not one of your many conquests who will happily let you fuck them in the middle of your nightclub.”
White-hot rage fueled by a blinding desire to claim her in front of all these people courses through me.
I don’t do public displays of any kind—with anyone.
Finger-fucking a woman in the middle of my club is a first for me, and it pisses me off that I’m driven feral with the need to do this here.
It’s a risk, and I don’t do risks. But she makes me forget all of my rules.
She’s getting too close. I’m letting my guard down with her, and what’s even more dangerous is that she knows it. I can never allow her that kind of control over me.
Not now. Not ever.
I graze my lips across her ear. “You honestly think being my wife equates to you meaning any more to me than all of those other women before you?” I growl, my words cruel but necessary. “Now, you tell me to stop again and I will, or you can open your legs and let me inside what’s mine.”
She glares at me, her chin tilted. She knows she can walk away if she chooses to. But I’m filled with a deep sense of satisfaction when she spreads her thighs and submits to me.
Now I feel like the devil she believes me to be.
But it’s essential that I dial things all the way back, and to do that, I can’t allow her to think there’s anything more to our relationship than sex.
I keep her shielded from view and slip a second finger inside her. She bites down on her lip as her walls clench around me, demanding more.
“You’re dripping down my hand, Alana. You’re going to enjoy this. I’m going to make you come for me, even if you’re determined not to.”
Groaning, she tips her head back and spreads her legs farther. I work my fingers in and out of her soaking wet channel, and she moans.
My cock throbs painfully, desperate to get inside her too. It is fucking weeping for her, and there isn’t a damn thing I can do about it.
Fuck! This woman does things to me that I can’t control, and I don’t know how to deal with it.
I’m slammed with a vision of how easy it would be to pull her to straddle me, take out my cock, and have her ride me right here in the privacy of our booth.
It’s all I can think about. And because I’ve spent so much time inside her these past few weeks, I know exactly how it would feel to have her squeezing my length the way she’s squeezing my fingers.