Chapter Eight
Landon
I watch Elisabet tuck into the salmon salad she’s ordered. She doesn’t concern herself with anyone else in the room, even me. Her soft moan that resonates in her throat has me aching to release the tension in my slacks. Her eyes flutter closed for a moment before opening and landing on me.
“What?” she asks shyly. There’s something so alluring about how at times she’s feisty, but right now, there’s an innocence to her, and I wonder if she’s ever had a real man show her how beautiful she is.
“Nothing. I like seeing you enjoy the meal,” I respond, digging into the rump steak that’s cooked perfectly. Medium rare.
“It’s delicious. Thank you.” With a smile, she continues devouring her meal, leaving me to scoff down mine. The evening continues with light conversation. I don’t ask her any personal questions. This isn’t meant to be a date, but when the bill arrives, I realize I want nothing more than for it to be exactly that.
“Would you like to come back to my place for a nightcap?” I ask as I guide her to the exit. My hand on the base of her spine, tingling to move lower. To touch her.
“I thought this was a business dinner?” she asks as we reach the car. I don’t open the door immediately, instead caging her in against the vehicle.
“This can be anything you want, and somehow, I think you want nothing more than for this to be a date. And I’ve been aching to see how you enjoy me unraveling the tension in your body one finger at a time,” I inform her, my voice raw with desire. “And then my tongue and cock right after.” She places her hands on my chest, not pushing me away, merely resting them on my pecs.
“As I said, this is business. I’m not looking for a relationship,” she responds. Her voice lowering as she leans up, and my mouth quirks, ready for a kiss, but she bypasses my mouth and brushes her lips over my stubbled cheek. “And let me tell you one thing, Mr. Stone. I don’t intend to have your fingers, tongue, or your cock anywhere near me.” My cock twitches, needing to show her exactly how she’s affected me with just a slight movement.
“Oh, darling, you’ll be begging me for so much more,” I counter, unlocking the door and helping her slip into the seat. Once I join her by seating myself on the driver’s side, she asks me something that causes me to chuckle
“What makes you think that?”
“Because I’m a man who knows exactly what women want,” I respond as we make our way back to my apartment. She’s quiet for a few moments before sighing and sitting back. She’s feisty. It only makes me harder for her, to show her what pleasure I can bestow on her body. I’ve always loved women with a fiery demeanor, and Elisabet Rossi is all that and more.
In no time, I’m pulling into the underground parking lot. All I can think of are her lips on mine, wrapped around my cock. It’s been too long since I’ve had a woman beneath me that wasn’t some paid for whore. Far too long.
The elevator is waiting when we reach it, and I allow her to enter first. Pushing the button for the top floor where the penthouse is located, I watch the doors slide shut.
“You live in the penthouse? You know, that’s the epitome of a playboy bachelor. Which means you’re a heartbreaker?” she says confidently.
I turn my face to hers, stalking closer to her until her back hits the steel wall. I cage her in, needing to inhale her scent. Her perfume reminding me of jasmine and vanilla. Sweet, delicate, yet there’s that white-hot confidence that makes me harder than I’ve ever been.
“Who said I was a heartbreaker?” My accent thick, heavy with desire and hunger for this woman. I know how to murmur in such a way that makes a woman tremble with need. Allowing my voice to caress her, to taunt and tempt her.
“It’s written all over you, Landon Stone.” Her eyes on mine, peeking up at me from under thick lashes. Her response causes me to chuckle, but I don’t reply. The doors slide open, and I move away from her. We both step into the hallway. My eyes are pinned on her. “What?” she asks.
“I’d like to prove you wrong, Ms. Rossi.” I can’t believe I’m working so hard for a woman, but somehow, I know she’ll be worth it.
“Oh? And how exactly are you going to do that?” she quips as she follows me into the kitchen. My apartment is massive, too big for one person, but I’ve always needed space. In my mind, small places make me claustrophobic.
“I plan, Ms. Rossi,” I say, pouring her a large glass of Merlot, handing it to her before continuing, “to seat you on my sofa, ensure you’re comfortable, before showing you how a woman should be treated.” Once my glass is filled, I offer her my hand, which she accepts, and I lead her into the vast space where the windows and patio door overlook the city. The sky is dark, shimmering with twinkling stars.
Elisabet perches herself on the sofa. Her gaze on me. I feel it right down to my core.
“Sit back,” I tell her, while I toe-off my shoes. My fingers work the buttons of my shirt, and once I pull it from the waistband of my slacks, I leave it hanging open. “I want that fire you exude, Darling,” I tell her. Her mouth lifts for a moment then she pushes off the sofa, placing her glass on the table and steps over to me.
“I told you, Landon—” I don’t wait for her to finish her admonishment. Instead, I cup her face in my hands and crash my lips down on hers. Her hands find purchase on my shoulders as she pulls me closer. My tongue sweeps along her lips, requesting access, which she easily offers up. She may be a little feisty kitten, but when I delve into her warm, wet mouth, she whimpers, and I swallow her sounds. Hungry for every moan.
My hands trail down her arms, gripping her hips, as I tug her dress up until it’s bunched around her middle.
“Landon,” she murmurs against my lips. “This is—”
“This is exactly where we need to be. Let go, just for one night,” I implore her. I can do one-night stands. They’re easy. But this . . . this is something else entirely. I make quick work of her dress, leaving her standing in my living room dressed in a pair of black silk panties and a matching bra that holds her beautiful tits. Her legs are curvy, tanned, and I’m dying to have them wrapped around me. “You’re fucking exquisite, Elisabet,” I tell her hungrily. A starving man who’s about to feast.