Chapter 30
“Come on. Go get changed. You’ve got several choices to pick from.” Tore shooed me with both arms at the bottom of the stairs.
“You’re an idiot.”
“A thoughtful idiot. I even left you a little gift to lighten your mood and soften you up.” He waggled his eyebrows.
“I don’t need softening up.”
“Meh. You’re wound up tighter than a virgin at a brothel.”
I slapped him on the back with a chuckle. “You’re still just as ridiculous. Somehow, that’s more a relief than anything else I’ve seen out here so far. Never change.”
“Just take your time. No rush. We’ve got”—Tore glanced down at his watch—“a good hour before guests start arriving. I want to see a smirk on your face when you come down.”
“Get out of here.” I huffed my annoyance at his foolishness and watched as he and our men filed out of the hallway. I’d forgotten how carefree life could be outside the rigid structure of prison life.
My phone vibrated in my pocket, and I frowned, wondering how many people Tore had already distributed the number to.
Unknown
Hey, diary. Welcome back. Tore still taking you clubbing tonight? This is Ainsley, btw.
I chortled, then shook my head. No, this wouldn’t do. I had no right to feel this chest-clenching relief at the sight of one little message from her. She was too young for me, too closely related, even if not by blood. I switched the damn thing off.
The faint beat of the music resonated through the soundproofing of the club walls, but other than that, the vast emptiness of the corridor and staircase felt larger than it was.
And lonely. There was no one around. No one to protect against. No prison guards ordering and shoving about inmates.
No batons or pepper spray in sight. No threats of beatings when left alone.
No shivs when my back was turned. Just pure emptiness, like days spent in isolation. It was…disconcerting.
I forced myself up the stairs, not because Tore told me to, but for myself.
To take back the control of my life that was stolen from me.
Twice now, everything I’d become accustomed to had changed in the blink of an eye, and I could feel my restraint dancing on the edge of a knife.
Almost like I was waiting for the quiet to settle before throwing the first punch. No more of this bullshit.
I strode up the stairs, through the hallway that separated the offices, supply closets, and conference rooms, and entered the executive suite.
The space hadn’t changed much since my visit as a guest years ago.
The dark tones made the room feel a little too somber and closed in after years spent in a small cell.
The walls lacked as much decoration as I’d experienced for years.
The furnishings, though, were just as lavish as I remembered.
I circled the desk, my fingers trailing over the curve of it. The chair had changed—black plush leather, outrageously comfortable. I collapsed into it, trying to relax.
I was out of that hellhole. I was free…finally. The air wasn’t stale or sweat-ridden. The furniture was comfortable and clean. The food and drink were good. There was even a bottle of champagne with a red bow tie around its neck and glasses on my desk.
The shower was unoccupied. No other inmates in sight.
Just as my head fell back against the headrest and I closed my eyes, the sound of water rushing through pipes and showering down began. A woman’s singing voice murmured from the en suite bathroom.
I picked up the first weapon available: a letter opener. In fifteen steps, I reached the bathroom. Steam swamped me as the door quietly slid open, fumed with the scent of cedarwood bodywash.
A woman stood brazenly naked, head tilted back under the spray of water.
She was short, close to a foot shorter than me.
Her wet hair was a dark blonde, almost brown.
Soft-bodied. Breasts smooth, with peaked nipples.
A little pooch to her belly, with a marked waist bandying out to wide hips and a lush ass.
Her fingers swept over her body, soapsuds sliding down her olive skin.
My entire body tightened just looking at her. I balled my fists and stayed still.
“Ugh, would it kill him to stock women’s bodywash? I’m going to smell like a man,” the woman groused. “At least he won’t know.”
“Who?”
She screamed, arms covering her breasts, legs crossing, as she spun in place.
“You!” she said with wide eyes. Water continued to crash down from the showerhead.
“Me?” I frowned.
“I…I thought you weren’t coming.”
“You know me?”
She reared back. “Of course I do. Now hand me the towel.” She stepped out from beneath the showerhead and held out her hand.
Her eyes barely focused on the letter opener, poised over my shoulder, ready to strike.
“Seriously, this isn’t funny, Renzo. Just get the towel. Yes, that one on top of the bench.”
“You don’t give orders around here.”
“Oh, come on, it’s a towel. You barge in here uninvited. The least you can do is help me cover up.”
She reached forward, tugged the towel off its hanger, and quickly wrapped it around herself. The audacity. This was my club. My office. My shower. Who the hell did she think she was?
“Now turn around. You know, show some common decency.” She squeezed water out of her hair, completely nonchalant. “I know privacy probably hasn’t been easy for you the last seven years, but you’re out now. You should know better.”
I rushed her and shoved her back against the shower wall. My hand circled her throat. “Should I? I’m not the one trespassing.”
Her breath stuttered into a moan. That sound echoed between us as her hands gripped my arms. She didn’t push me away. Her rich brown eyes stared into mine, surprise and excitement shining through. Her chin lifted as rivulets of water ran down her face.
“I definitely didn’t imagine our meetup like this.”
I scoffed, intrigued. She didn’t give in easily…
I’d give her that. It showed defiance and strength of character, maybe even a little contempt.
She reminded me of Ainsley. Her hair, her wide, full cheekbones, the contour of her jawline—they matched the little of Ainsley’s face I knew by heart.
I’d spent the last year staring at her features endlessly in my cell, her picture always in arm’s reach.
This woman might just be a perfect fantasy come to life.
“What did you imagine?” I asked, my voice hoarse.
“I was going to play it by ear. But naked me…pressed against you within ten minutes. That definitely wasn’t on my bingo card, but I guess I can’t complain.”
“Is that so?” My gaze traced a trail of water down her pert nose decorated with freckles and over her Cupid’s-bow lips tilted in playful mischief. Yes, they were similar, her and Ainsley. This woman was probably the closest I’d ever get to my piccola rompiscatole. “You’re a little crazy.”
She shrugged, thrusting her throat further against my palm. “Nothing new about that.”
“Why are you here?” I applied a little pressure around her throat, quite enjoying the feel of her smooth neck under my hand and the press of her body against mine. Blood rushed to my groin. “How did you get in?”
“Tore lets me.” Her hands slid up to my shoulders. Her fingers massaged their way up to my neck, where they interlaced together. My layers of clothing stuck to my skin with the steam. I cleared my throat and adjusted my stance for a little more leg room. “I waited for you.”
“Oh? How so?” My thumb glided over her wet pulse point.
She slid one knee slowly up my thigh. “This is me showing you all my longing and desire. I want to be the one you choose to touch.” With a sudden jerk, she jumped against me, circling my neck with her arms, twining her ankles around my waist. The towel fell between us.
My hands clasped her round ass, bare and smooth and full, and just wet enough to make me wonder how slippery she’d be between her legs.
Her heavy breasts pressed against my chest, nipples hard enough to be felt through my suit.
Her breath shallowed against my ear. “I want to be with you, Renzo. I want you. I’m yours for the taking. ”
“Why?”
“You know why.”
“Do I?” I asked with a drawn-out breath as her lips pressed against my throat.
She certainly seemed eager. Perhaps she was exactly what I needed to get my mind off the one woman I couldn’t have.
After all, Tore mentioned a gift. It would be exactly his style to send me an escort for my first night out. “I guess I do.”
Her lips trailed kisses over my jawline. I turned my head when they aimed for my mouth. Again, she kissed a path on the other side of my face to my lips. Once more, I avoided her mouth on mine.
“Won’t you kiss me?” she asked, her voice husky and low.
“No.” I punctuated my answer by thrusting two fingers inside her exposed cunt. I stared into the rich depths of her brown eyes as her mouth fell open on a silent scream. Beautiful.
“Why not?” she asked, breathless.
She was so tight, squeezing my fingers for all they were worth. Up and down, I impaled her, over and over, each time spreading my fingers a little wider. She needed to loosen up a little to comfortably take me, but she was so wet, practically dripping. It wouldn’t take much.
“It’s not what I want.” I’d fuck a whore, but I certainly wouldn’t kiss one.
I shoved my fingers forward harder. Her head drove back with a moan, and I licked my way down her throat.
“Then what is it that you do want?” Her legs shook against me like her voice.
“I want to fuck you. Hard.”
I strode the few paces across the room to my desk, set her delicious ass on it, and delved into the back of the top shelf for a condom. It seemed Tore had taken over my shelving habits. With brusque movements, I freed myself from my pants and rolled the condom on.
“Wait.” She held onto my shoulders as I positioned myself at her core.
“Having second thoughts?”
“No. I want this. I’ve just ne—”