Total pages in book: 52
Estimated words: 49968 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 250(@200wpm)___ 200(@250wpm)___ 167(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 49968 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 250(@200wpm)___ 200(@250wpm)___ 167(@300wpm)
The bag was plain brown paper. No logo. Stapled shut. I sat down, pulling it open carefully and lifting out the box, my eyes widening as I took in the object.
It was another vibrator. Much more elaborate. Expensive.
Larger.
I read the note.
If that satisfied you, what I have to offer will ruin you for anyone else.
Until then, this will help.
Your move, sexy girl.
A
I swallowed, then began to laugh. He was playing with me. Right along with me. How he’d gotten in, I had no idea. But I’d known it was him even before I’d opened the bag. I could smell him.
I took out the vibrator, studying it. It was certainly bigger than I was used to. And according to the note, not as generous as Aldo himself.
And he was basically telling me he’d prove it to me.
I needed to get him to deliver.
Soon.
I didn’t respond to his gift right away. I decided to let him stew a little. Two nights later, I came out of the kitchen and spotted him in my section, staring intently in my direction. I delivered the meals I was carrying, grabbed the coffeepot, offering refills, topped up some water glasses, then made my way to his table. His gaze burned me up as I approached. I was wearing the polka-dot skirt and tight blouse. I had purposely undone an extra button when I was grabbing a fresh water pitcher, and I had hiked up the skirt a little. His eyes were dark and intense, the frown on his face making me want to dance with glee. There was no disguising the lust in his gaze or the way his hands gripped the edge of the table as if stopping himself from touching me.
I stopped, my notebook and pen poised. “Good evening, Mr. Ricci. The usual? Or would you prefer to hear the specials?”
He lowered his voice. “Are you on them?”
I laughed. “To the right customer.”
For a moment, he didn’t speak. He stared, undressing me with his eyes and fucking me in front of everyone. I felt the heat in my cheeks blossom and my limbs begin to tremble. He smiled slightly, knowing exactly how he was affecting me.
He leaned back, observing me. “Everything all right…at home, piccola peste?”
I smiled at him. I knew a little Italian and that I was being naughty. “Everything is great. I have a new friend. We are hanging out all the time. Just the two of us…such good times.” I sighed. “Beyond good. Almost blissful.”
His eyes narrowed. “I see.”
“I should show you some pictures of our good times.” I inched closer. “Unless, of course, you’d like to join us.”
It was his turn to react. He sucked in a deep breath. I could feel all the rage and lust simmering below his cool exterior. God, I hoped I was close when it blew. I had a feeling I would never be the same.
“Careful what you wish for.” He stood, stepping close, our bodies almost touching. “I’ve changed my mind. I’m no longer hungry. I’ll be going.”
He gripped my shoulders, sliding past me. I felt him. All of him. Hard behind the hidden folds of his jacket. I put out my hand to stop him. “I could make you hungry.”
He stopped. “Oh, baby,” he murmured, somehow looking as if he were discussing the weather—cool and unaffected. “I’m starved. Ravenous. I could eat for hours and not get my fill. But another time. When we are both—free.”
The pulse between my legs kicked into high gear. My breathing picked up at his words and the meaning behind them. “Sunday,” I whispered. “I’m off Sunday and Monday.”
He smiled. “Good to know.”
“I have a cell phone.”
He lifted an eyebrow. “I see.”
I rattled off the number. “In case, you know, you have a personal one and want to call me or anything.”
He paused, nodded, and left. Five minutes later, I got a text from an unknown number, which I knew had to be his.
Show me
Was all it said.
I swallowed.
Time to up the ante.
ALDO
I stared at the screen, my gaze greedy. Jesus—she’d sent me a picture of herself, mid-orgasm. I was certain of it. Her mouth was open, her head flung back, one hand gripping her hair. Sweat beaded her forehead.
She was fucking perfection.
And I needed my hands on her.
Since she’d given me her cell number, the dirty texts, the hidden innuendos, and the occasional pictures had been traded. I walked a fine line, barely hanging on to my control. Saying and doing things I shouldn’t be doing with an employee. Watching her from a distance, because if I got close, I wouldn’t be able to keep my hands off her. She invaded my thoughts frequently and starred in my dreams. I woke up every day hard and aching, and nothing I did satisfied me.
My cock wasn’t happy with my hand. It had no interest in another woman. It—I—wanted her.