by K. L. Savage
“Someone want to tell me about what else she is supposed to be swallowing?”
Libby spits out her mouthful and Faye coughs.
“Nothing, it’s just an inside joke,” I whisper, unable to raise my voice like I need to so everyone can hear me. I’m saved from embarrassment when the lights flicker, telling us that the show is about to start, and I take my seat. I sit in the last row, needing a breather from the girls. Libby knows how I am, so she doesn’t ask me to move down to their row.
I like being in the same space as my friends, but at the same time, I like my own space. I sip my drink, and I close my eyes when I feel him behind me. The power he exudes is intoxicating, cloaking my body in a lustful heat. Blood rushes to my face while the space between my legs pulsates. He awakens me like no one ever has.
I thought I was broken or too different to feel lust. I’ve never felt attraction toward a man. Or woman. For a long time, I thought maybe I liked women because men did nothing for me. Come to find out, women didn’t do anything for me either.
If someone wanted to label me, I guess asexual would fit me. I never considered myself asexual, but it’s the only option that makes sense.
Made sense.
Now, I’m suddenly aware that I am fully capable of want and desire. The right person hadn’t come along yet. And Mateo is a fully charged electric shock, a defibrillator jolting me as a woman into existence. It feels so good. I ache.
I never want this feeling to stop. I’ve waited too long. I convinced myself I was broken, but I’m not.
A shaky breath leaves me as his hand grips the top of my chair. It’s strategically placed, and his thumb brushes against my shoulder, searing flames into my skin that no one can see, but I can most definitely feel.
The lights turn down until we are shrouded in darkness. The hum of the crowd dies down and silence hushes the entire theater. The girls whisper to one another as the orchestra begins to play in the pit. Ominous baritone strings resound off the walls of the theater. Red lights flash across the stage before going dark again.
A performer slowly drops from above, laying on a chaise lounge, her back to us. She has her elbow propped on the chair and her left hand is on her hip. She’s wearing a black leotard that cuts high along her butt to show the shapely globes. Her hair is wild, teased into a bushy blonde ball. A trombone bellows a slow and low note as she drops, and she turns her head to the left, her chin touching her shoulder to make us wonder if she’ll turn to look at the crowd.
Her shoulders alternate, rolling one back, then the other. She lifts her left arm in the air and the red light focuses on her as she seduces the room with her sex appeal.
And we haven’t even seen her face.
Mateo’s power leaves my back and I’m able to take a full breath. It relieves me.
I keep my attention on the stage. The chaise lounge lands on all fours and the woman sits up, her back still to us, and her right arm raises in the air. Her fingers trail down her left arm and the music changes. At the same time as the quick beat, she bends back with a fast jerk and rolls her shoulders again.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Mateo whispers in my ear from beside me. “The way the performers move. It is amazing. They move like silk.”
His voice is silk. It seeps into my skin and possesses me, moving through me like the prosecco in my veins.
I don’t say anything. Opening my mouth is never a good idea.
“Here—” he points to the stage as a muscular shirtless man comes on stage. He keeps his toes pointed as he walks, his strides smooth, his head held high, his pecs and abs flexing as he saunters to his target. “Is when it gets… sexual,” Mateo advises me.
The word ‘sexual’ leaving his lips has a whimper building in my throat. The Italian accent is killing me. No woman stands a chance against him. How is little ol’ me supposed to handle this situation when I’ve never been in a situation like this?
I’m becoming hungry for something I’ve never experienced.
Authentic Italian.
And I am not talking about the food.
I swallow as I cross my legs, my panties slick and sticking to my folds. The man leaps into the air and the woman lays against the chair as the man cages her in. His rippling biceps are cut from stone. He runs a hand up and down her body until he clutches her hips. He lifts her into the air, and she wraps her legs around his neck. His mouth and nose are buried in the apex of her thighs and my legs part, wishing I knew what that felt like. She rolls her body forward, clutching his head, and thrashes her head back and forth, acting out the pleasure.
Mateo’s lips skim against my shoulder as he leans closer to my ear. Maybe it was a mistake, maybe he didn’t mean to, but I know I can’t breathe.
“The way he handles her, the way his hands cup her ass, the way his eyes never leave hers,” he growls, his nose burying in the thick of my hair. I hear him inhale and my heart is hammering so hard that I’m afraid he can hear it—also known as a bounding pulse.
His fingers brush through strands of my hair and tucks them behind my ear. “The way he flips her around, the way she falls to her knees, the way he rolls his hips between hers.” His fingers skim down my right shoulder, and I arch my neck to the left to allow him more access. “The way he touches her as they dance, showing the embrace of two lovers taking what is rightfully theirs, it is a fucking sight to see. An aphrodisiac.”
Hot air escapes from my lips and my eyes flutter shut as he continues to feather his touch. I’m sure it means nothing. He is just talking, but I’m reacting to every Italian-laced word as they seduce me.
Intentionally or unintentionally, I’m too inexperienced to know. But either way, seduced I am.
I’m doing everything I can to keep my mouth shut. My brain is running on overtime and my body is three strokes away from experiencing fireworks. I suppose I’m a quick trigger when someone else besides me is doing the touching. And he really isn’t touching. Just testing, skimming the surface; it’s making it had to concentrate on the show.
The man and woman lean in for a kiss, but they pull away at the last moment.
I nibble my bottom lip, imagining what it would be like to kiss Mateo. I’m almost breaking the skin when his thumb tugs it free.
His mouth brushes against the shell of my ear and his breath sends waves of lust crashing into my libido. “Don’t ruin lips made for adoration,” he whispers, an intimate hushed hue to his rumbling voice.
I gasp and snap my head to the right, but I can only see the whites of his eyes and the outline of his body. He is close. Too close. I might not be able to see him, but I can feel him. His body heat is closing in and I’m left trembling as I wait for him to do whatever he wants to me.
He isn’t going to kiss me. That would be insane. We just met. I learned his name ten minutes ago. I know nothing about him besides that he owns the hotel. His face is an inch away from mine. The wine on his breath gives me a buzz and I sway, our mouths almost brushing together.
In the dark where no one can see, a secret unfolds between us. What the secret holds remains a mystery to me, but something unspoken grows in the hidden night of the balcony.
“Tentazione.” The Italian word breezes over my lips as he speaks.
His forehead falls to mine, his hand cups my jaw, and he growls, “Temptation.”
If that’s the secret, it’s safe with me.
He turns his head. His fingers dig into my scalp and a whimper escapes me after I swallow the lump of arousal in my throat.
Just when I think I’m about to get my first kiss, his body heat vanishes from my personal space and the spell between us breaks. I’m able to breathe again. I inhale a sharp breath and reach a hand in front of me to see if he is there.
But all I touch is a ghost of him.
My chest aches. It’s as if he’s ripped something out of me and took it for himself and now I don’t feel like myself.
I sag in my chair and curse. He came to his senses. I’m me, after al
l. Completely average. I’m not long legs like Libby or a gorgeous, model face like Alice.
The nerd and a hot Italian casino owner do not have a happily ever after.
The rejection stings, since Mateo is the first man to make my body come to life. I try not to take it personally, but sexual tension is personal.
It’s as personal as it gets.
I down the rest of my drink and place my glass on the floor. I continue to watch the show. The man and woman are fighting one another, tugging and pulling away. She wraps herself in purple ribbon and rises in the air toward the ceiling where she dropped down from in the beginning. Then he grabs her foot, and she unravels, spinning so fast she’s nothing but a blur in the red light.
She runs out of ribbon and drops a few feet, but the man catches her, holding her tight in his strong arms. He lays her down on the chaise lounge and tugs the tie holding the material of her outfit together. The material parts to each side, but right as we are about to see her breasts, the red light shuts off, leaving us yearning for more.
I’ve never yearned before this night.
And it feels so good. Is this what people experience every day?
I’m annoyed my body has been keeping its own secret. It’s been waiting to be unlocked, for someone to come along with the right key. Mateo brought all of my trapped desires to the surface. It’s a good thing no one can see how disheveled I look.
What happens in the dark, stays in the dark.
That’s where it’ll always remain.
A secret is not known or meant to be seen by others.
I can’t fool myself. If Mateo ever got ahold of me, I have a feeling that’s exactly what I’ll be to him—a secret.
“Cazzo!” I grunt as I fuck the tight hole I made with my fist. I can’t seem to move my hips fast enough. The rougher I stroke myself, the more I need something else.
Her.
I fucking want her so much. I had to leave the balcony before I kissed her because I knew if I touched her fluffy lips, I’d want to whisk her away and bury my cock inside her for days on end. She isn’t ready for that. She’s skittish; she was shaking the closer I got to her. When I have her—and make no fucking mistake, I will—the only time she’ll tremble is when she’s coming on my cock.
I lean my back against my office door and groan, tilting my head back. I imagine her bound, hands tied, blindfolded, with clamps on her nipples. She’s whispering my name, asking for more, begging me to fuck her harder. And I do.
I give her everything she wants.
Dropping my chin to my chest, I watch as both my hands stroke me. The wide, plum-shaped tip leaks precome, dripping onto my fingers to help ease the glide.
If I knew what was so special about this woman that made me lose control, I’d be able to understand this gripping need that’s taken over me.
She’s unlike any woman I’ve ever seen. I want to be the reason she blooms into what she’s born to be.
“Oh, so damn good,” I moan, tightening my grip.
I have to relieve myself. It’s the only way I’ll be able to function tonight while she’s walking around in that tight dress. Jesus, when we were watching the show of the man and woman performing, I imagined it was us.
I watched her chest rise and fall in quick beats as she tried to steady her breath. When she bit her lip into her mouth, it had my cock going from half-mast to full. I thought of so many things. Kissing her, tasting her, sliding my cock between her lips; the desire was so overwhelming, I had to get away from her.
There’s something powerful building between us and I know she felt it too. This is not one-sided. I don’t give a fuck if she is my daughter’s friend.
Want is want.
Lust is meant to be acted upon.
And if it turns into something more, then I’m a lucky sonofabitch.
If she thinks she can get away from whatever is building between us, then my little naïve vixen is more inexperienced than I initially thought.
A Moretti always gets what he wants, and he never fails.
“Fucking take it.” I stroke, twisting the tip at the last second. I picture her on her knees, sucking me down her throat and making her gag.
The beautiful image has my orgasm barreling forward. For a split second I think she’s actually here, her warm mouth engulfing me. “Swallow every drop.” I tense and thrust my hips one last time as I come. I cup my hand over the tip and catch every jet that leaves me.
The warm cream puddles in my palm and as the last spurt abandons me, I hang my head and gasp for air. Sweat drips down my cheek and my cock is still hard and ready to go another round. Fucking hell, how this woman affects me is more than anyone else has before.
Male or female.
My computer dings on my desk and I groan, shoving off the door with my foot. I grab a tissue from the blue Kleenex box sitting on the coffee table and clean up. I toss the soiled rag into the trashcan and pump the hand sanitizer in my palm, then wipe it off with another tissue to get any come left off my hand.
When I feel satisfied that I’m clean, I tuck myself back in my pants, zip, and buckle before I sit in the oversize leather computer chair. I ignore the ding chiming on my computer and spin around in my chair to look out of the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking Sin City. The lights are alive, and crowds of people are walking on either side of the street, laughing, drinking, and living it up in the night. The stars are out by the millions and the moon is full, hanging high and casting its light across the strip and desert.
I’m a king sitting on his throne, high in the sky, yet I’m alone. The man I was before the explosion would have loved being single. I would have had men and women in my bed, enjoying the pleasures this world has to offer.
I’m an equal opportunity lover. The more, the merrier.
After seeing Nora and succumbing to the feeling I get when our eyes lock, I realize I want something more. I want the other side of the offer the world is giving to me. I haven’t been in a relationship since my second wife and she was a mistake. I never loved her. Cazzo, I never even liked the woman. She was dreary and high all the time.
Love? That was reserved for my first wife. I haven’t felt that spark with anyone else.
Until Nora’s blue eyes locked with mine.
After Lucia died, I knew there wasn’t anyone in the world that existed for me. But maybe Nora is my chance to remember there is more to life than the one I’ve been living.
My computer dings again, causing me to scowl. I’m getting tired of hearing that noise. I roll closer to the computer and see four emails from my Zio.
I click on the first one, grinning when I see a picture of Natalia and her friends. In the subject line it says, “What is she wearing?!” I don’t care what she is wearing, my eyes are on the woman in red.
Scrolling to the next email, it’s another picture. This time, it’s the girls exiting the theater and heading down the hall to head to the casino floor. The subject line is “She’s never allowed to leave the house again.”
I chuckle and swing the chair slightly from right to left as I lean back, staring at the screen. I’m about to check the other emails when a Zoom notification blocks me from my email browser. It’s Zio. Maybe security isn’t going to be the job for him if he obsesses like this.
I touch the screen to hit ‘accept.’ “Ciao, Zio,” I greet.
“Ciao? Did you see my messages? Cazzo, Mateo. She cannot be dressing like that in public. They are getting too much attention.” The screen splits in two as he shows me what he sees. “Look, they are at a blackjack table now. There is a group of men around them. Natalia is laughing. She is not allowed to laugh with men like this. She’s sixteen!”
“Zio, she’s twenty-two.”
“Same difference,” he mutters, displeased that I haven’t agreed with him.
He runs his fingers through his silver hair and clenches his jaw. “When did she grow up? I feel like I’ve missed out on so much.”
“Me too, Zio
. Me too,” I echo his melancholy.
I stare at security camera feed he is sharing with me and my eyes linger on Natalia, wondering when she grew up so fast. Her mama and I had her very young. We were so scared, but I’ve never regretted having Natalia, especially after her mother’s death. I clung onto her, and now that I have my memory back, even more so.
I slide my attention to Nora. She just placed a bet and is waiting to see just how well she can gamble. Without another word, I end the video call, and pull the camera feed up on my own. I rub a hand over my mouth, scratching a spot under my chin, and click a few buttons to find her. When I do, I zoom in, watching as she taps the table signaling for the dealer to hit.
Nora wins.
“Brava, Nora.” I continue watching her from the eye in the sky and watch as she gets two Aces. She splits them, increasing her chance of getting blackjack. She’s smart. I like that. Not every young person knows how to gamble.
Her brows furrow and her eyes lift from the table. She peers over her left shoulder, then her right, but no one is there.
I grin. “Can you feel my eyes on you, Nora?” I press a few more buttons and the camera zooms in even more. Her eyes lift and meet the camera, and once again, we are locked in a hypnotizing gaze. “Oh, you do feel me, don’t you?” I say to myself with a slight tone of arrogance.
She bites her bottom lip again and my cock jerks as she abuses the sweet pink cloud. Her cheeks blush, and she reaches for her drink, only to find it empty. I grab the walkie-talkie I keep on my hip and press the button on the side. “Katherine, order a Spritz Veneziano for table eleven. For the woman in red.”
Katherine is behind Nora, and I catch her looking to make sure she has the right table. When she sees Nora, she nods. “Yes, Mr. Moretti. Right away.”
“And keep them coming. I don’t want her to be without a drink. She gets whatever she wants.”
“Lucky girl,” Katherine chides on a slight chuckle. She drops her hand away from her ear, which is where the earpiece is, and struts away confidently to the bar. The waitresses all wear showgirl-like outfits. Katherine has a purple corset on with silver feathers, and her breasts are pushed high, which always means she will get tipped well.