My heart flutters as Konstantin’s Lamborghini races through the streets of London. I haven’t slept with a man in years. Even before Octavia passed I had already begun to spend all of my free time at her place, both to help with Janna and to care for my sister. Of course, after she died, my focus turned exclusively to Janna.

I haven’t found a reason to seek out a man … until now.

We cross the Thames river at Embankment and Konstantin takes us down quiet streets. I watch his hands as they steer the car with complete confidence. Mine are clenched tightly in my lap. He hooks a hard right into the underground garage of an impressive apartment building.

Konstantin parks the car, gets out, and comes around to help me out. Taking my hand, he leads me into the building. He’s barely spoken to me since I came out of the casino to find him resting against his car, dressed in a finely cut suit that perfectly accented his broad shoulders, long legs, and trim, muscular torso. My first thought: none of it is staying long on his body. This time when I sit on his lap, I don’t want a single stitch between us.

He glances down at me in the lift. “You okay?”

My mouth goes dry at the expression in his eyes. I nod and we say nothing else. His apartment is only a few floors up.

He unlocks his door and steps aside to let me into the filmy darkness first. As I venture inside, he turns on the lights. It’s very … um … modern and sparse to the point of clinical. Lots of gleaming metal and nothing by way of decoration at all. It’s as if he has just moved in, only there are no boxes lying around waiting to be unpacked.

By contrast our apartment is full of photos of the three of us laughing, cheap paintings, fridge magnets, rugs, magazines, color, toys, mess. All our personalities, even little Janna’s, are everywhere. Here, there is not a single personal touch of the owner. Two expensive black leather couches form a corner. In between is a deep-brown leather coffee table, designer obviously.

Carefully color-matched modern paintings adorn the wall. Except for the one that boasts a large flat screen television. To the left of it is a glass and burnished copper drinks bar that just screams handcrafted. Further into the open plan space is the dining table, another polished glass, leather and chrome affair. It is impossible to think of Konstantin sitting there having a meal with friends.

It is one of those perfectly coordinated lifestyle homes that look as if every item in it was bought at one time by a professional, and without love. The far wall is pure glass, giving a fabulous view of the city lights beyond the river. I don’t even want to know what it costs to rent such a place.

“Would you like a drink?” he asks.

I turn around. He has wandered over to the beverage cart while I was taking inventory of his impressive, but cold apartment. Even the air is a few degrees colder in here than it was outside. The place is an accurate mirror of the façade he shows the world. An armor that is undeniably beautiful, but inhospitable and unwelcoming.

“Sure,” I say, matching his tone.

“What would you like?”

“Whatever you’re having is fine.”

“Dry Martini?”

I’ve never had it before. “Great.”

“Have a seat.”

I walk over to the couch and perch at the end.

I watch him make the drinks and pour the mixture out into two glasses. He crosses the room, hands one to me, and sits beside me. When he sets his drink on the leather coffee table and turns to me, I react by taking the cocktail stick with the olive out, and downing my entire drink in two swallows. It’s strong as hell. I’m so nervous my hands are shaking.

He smiles at my empty glass. “Nervous?”

I shrug one shoulder. “A bit.”

“No need. We both know how this plays out.” He takes the empty glass from my nerveless fingers and puts it on the table along with his untouched drink. Then he scoots closer. I pop the olive into my mouth and chew it. I showered, shaved, rubbed lotion on my whole body, and chose my cutest thong underwear, but I still feel like a fraud. A man like him, who lives in an apartment like this. What the hell is he doing with me?

He draws me into a tender kiss, his tongue only playing this time instead of forcing its way inside. He pulls me more tightly into him, one hand at the back of my neck while the other takes gentle hold of one knee and begins to move it steadily away from my other. The hunger rises inside me.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he whispers, lips on my lips so I’m breathing in his words.

I start unbuttoning his shirt, but he shakes his head, a mysterious smile on his lips. “Not yet. He trails his fingers along my inner thigh. “I want you to strip for me.”

My eyes widen. “You mean like a striptease?”

“No. A striptease is performed to titillate a man. I’m so titillated I’m bursting out of my pants. Just stand in front of me and take your clothes off. Everything but your shoes.”

I stand and walk around the coffee table. I don’t feel confident about my body, but the magnetic hold he seems to have over me and the molten lust in his eyes makes me brave. Slowly, I unzip the sexy cerise dress I changed into at the casino. Cindy and I chose it together. Actually, Cindy chose it. I thought it was too risqué. She said it was perfect. I let it slide down my body and pool around my shoes.

He leans back, and never taking his eyes off me, reaches for his drink. He takes a sip and I unclasp my bra. He inhales sharply as the material falls away and my breasts are exposed. Hooking my fingers into the material of my panties, I slowly slide them down my thighs. His eyes feast hungrily on my freshly shaved pussy. I had ruined the landing strip so I just shaved everything off. His eyes rise up to meet mine.

“Turn around. I want to see your ass.”

My knees are wobbly as I swivel.

“Part your legs.”

I close my eyes. I am so wet, my juices are soaking my inner thighs. I widen my stance. If I open my legs, he’ll see the trails.

“A bit more,” his voice rings out.

I obey.

“Bend over.”

I hesitate for a moment. I’ve never done this for any man. Then, slowly I lean forward and expose my swollen glistening flesh to him.

“Let your palms touch the floor.”

I drop down. I can see him from between my legs.

The only sound in the room for a few minutes is our strained breathing. More lubrication slides down my legs almost reaching my knees.

He stands and walks up to me. He is so close I can feel the heat from his body. All I can see are his fully clothed legs. It is strangely erotic that I am completely naked and he is fully dressed.

His finger follows the wet trails. That tiny, feather-light contact with his skin makes me moan. He slides his finger around on the slick moisture.

“Did you think of me and make yourself cum in the last few days?” he asks softly.

I nod.

“I can’t hear you, baby.”

“Yes.” My voice is so soft. It is almost a whisper.

“Is your pussy big enough for my cock, little Raven?”

I shiver with need. “Yes.”

He inserts a long finger into me, making my knees buckle. He twists the finger sensuously inside me as I bite my lip to stop from crying out. Without warning, he wraps his arm around my waist, pulls me upright, and twirls me around. I stare up at him, my eyes wide with surprise and excitement. He holds his wet finger in front of my lips. An inch away, but not touching.

His eyes are heavy lidded and dark with desire. “Suck.”

I lean forward and slowly, seductively, suck his finger into my mouth. Something flares up in his eyes. The incredible ferocity of it shocks me. Surely such lust is insanity. We stare at each other in disbelief. My entire mind feels clouded by desire. He grabs my shoulders, pushes me to my knees.

I look up at him and he takes my chin in his hand and looks down at me, an indecipherable expression on his face.

“What?” I whisper.

He turns his head and looks at the couch next to the one we were sitting on. I follow his gaze and freeze. I never saw it. I can’t. I can’t do that.

“Don’t you want to see how sexy you look with my cock buried in your mouth, baby.”

If any other man had asked me that question I would have slapped him hard, but with him everything I know about myself is turned upside down. He alone ignites such wanton desires and wild abandonment in my rational practical mind it is shocking. I do want to see what I look like with his cock in my mouth.

I nod and he picks up the video camera and points it down at me. For a second I am paralyzed, then I lift my hands and undo his belt buckle while he watches me from behind the recording equipment.

His trousers fall down his slim hips and I see his cock, thick, hard and massive. The desire to touch it and taste it fills me and I practically rip his underwear off and yank them down to his knees. His cock springs free and I caress the hard shaft. The skin under my fingers is warm and as silky as satin.

“Good girl,” he encourages softly.