Chapter 8

Vivienne

“Ms. Taylor,” the driver says, opening my door.

I slide out, my pussy leaving a trail of wetness on the leather seat.

That was one of the longest and most difficult limo rides I’ve ever had in my life.

I smooth the satin fabric of my dress down, and I stretch my body, hoping to smoothen the fire trapped underneath it.

God, he’s so...damn good.

I roll my neck to release some of the built-up tension, and a hand starts to massage my shoulders.

I turn to see David behind me, with that royally handsome smile.

“Too bad I couldn’t work these kinks out.” He pretends to pout and applies more pressure.

A soft moan spills from my lips as a wave of relief washes over me. I hear it before I can close my mouth.

I look around, hoping no one else heard that. This is definitely not the time or the place to start moaning out loud.

“Don’t worry, love. Your secret’s safe with me,” he whispers, and the tension comes back and intensifies into a gnawing ache.

Really, I’m proud—and slightly amazed—that I didn’t fuck him in the back of the limo. Christ knows I wanted to, and I still do.

But we have to play this safe and professional, especially tonight at the gala.

Unfortunately, like taking a stiff drink, it’s hard to recover and act unaffected afterwards.

“Your arm, love.” He stands by my side and presents his fitted wool-covered bicep.

I wrap my arm under his, making sure my fingers linger ever-so-slowly over the strained fabric.

“King David, you’re such a gentleman.”

“When you have a lady, who looks as lovely as you do, how should one act?” The corner of his mouth curls up into a deliciously devious smile, and my cunt moistens, imagining their fullness curl around my clit.

He pulls me closer, placing his other hand over mine, and I revel in the delicate touch.

The doors open for us, and we enter a gorgeous estate dripping in elegance and refinement.

To the right, there are floor-to-ceiling windows draped with rich velvet cream curtains. There’s a lace overlay as well so when the sun shines it projects a beautiful shadow on the marble flooring. There’s a row of chandeliers, similar to Versailles’s hall of mirrors.

It’s breathtaking but strikingly ostentatious.

“Welcome to the land of mirrors,” he whispers into the crux of my neck.

I look at him and smile. It’s like he read my mind or something.

He continues, “It’s a land where everyone acts the same, looks the same, and if they don’t, they’ll order the right polish to fix their blemishes.” He winks.

“Let me guess, I’m your polish?” I tease him.

“Oh, love. You’re not a polish, though some might think you are. To me, you’re a rare gem. Just look at them gawk at you.” He nods his head to the crowd in front of us and I take a gander.

He isn’t wrong. Everyone is staring at me, measuring me up to the man on my arm. I nod at them, giving them my most charming smile. Though I feel my cheeks blush slightly, I then remember who they’re actually looking at—the king.

“But let’s get something straight. I don’t have any blemish.” He nudges me with his elbow, and I check him with my hip.

I snort and cover my mouth from the sudden outburst of laughter.

He’s kind of…fun.

“You think you’re so high and mighty, King. But I’ll have you know—” I start to whisper sweet nothings into his ear when a man in a matching wool suit interrupts me.

He doesn’t fill it out nearly as well as David though.

“David, I’m so glad to see you!” the man pulls out his hand to shake it.

David plays nice and returns the gesture. Good boy.

I excuse myself and go freshen up in the bathroom. But once I return, I find David at the bar, ordering a drink.

“Looks like old habits die hard, dear.” I brush up against his shoulder, and the magnetism sparks between us.

“What’s a boy to do when he’s left to his own devices?” He smiles and grabs the drink from the bartender, giving him a hundred-dollar tip.

For one drink? That’s absurd! But I’m sure he has more than enough to go around.

“I would’ve hoped that the man would listen and follow the rules.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” he coos.

“I think I’ve made it clear that following or coloring inside the lines, if you will, can be very enjoyable.” My fingers trace up and down his arm, mirroring my coloring analogy. “But I guess we’re still learning, so that’ll be your one and only drink, so savor every last drop.”

I watch as his lips slide over the edge of the crystal glass. His tongue scoops up an ice cube, bringing it to his mouth. Fuck, I feel like I’m watching soft-core porn.

The temperature in my body rises, and I feel my cheeks blush at the thought—this wouldn’t be his first starring role.

“I’d rather enjoy something a little sweeter.” He leans in and brushes his lips over my heated cheeks, traveling to my ear. “Come with me.”

“Where?” I pull back, cocking my head in suspicion.

“Let me show you.” He takes my hand and tugs me forward, and I follow behind him, like the adoring fan that I am.

Though, he’ll never know that.

“David, where are you taking me?”

“Somewhere, so that I can savor every. Last. Drop.”

Before I can react, he pushes open a random door near the entrance, and I fall against the most luscious fur coats. I believe, mink and chinchilla?

Holy shit! I’m laying on at least twenty thousand dollars.

“Let me taste you,” he asks yet also demands in the most sensuous voice.

His lips crash into mine, and it breaks every rule I have. I push against him and grab his head, pulling at his hair.

If he’s going to break the rules, I suppose I should have some fun with it as well.

But just this once…

We kiss frantically, grasping onto each other, like we’re some fucking animals in the wild. I wrap my free leg around his waist, pinning him to me, wanting more friction between us.

His bulge stiffens, and teases the satin covering my groin.

I moan in his mouth, and he pulls away, catching his breath.

“Can I have another taste?”

“Do you think you deserve it?” I nip his bottom lip.

His hands roam my body, cupping my breasts and gliding down my waist.

“Definitely. What’s so bad about coloring outside of the lines anyway?” he asks, and his hand moves my dress out of the way so that his finger can trace the edge of my panties.

“Ahhh…” I grasp onto his shoulders. “If it’s for creative expression, then please, color away.”

He kisses and licks a path down my neck, playing with the strap of my dress with his tongue, and he continues to toy with my lace.

“Creative expression?” He chuckles against my skin, and the vibration jerks my hips against his hand. “Oh, I can get very creative, love.”