She’s gone.
With a growl, I shoot out of the bed and check my desk. No message? Not even a text?
Frustration rages inside of me as I text my driver to go check she made it home. I barge into the shower and angrily jerk off.
This is what I get for being soft with her last night, but what the hell was I supposed to do? Have sex with her while she was upset? No. I like my partners willing and enthusiastic.
I scrub the sponge over my back hard enough for it to sting. That dumbass Adrian. It drove me crazy to see him flirting with her. I should have tossed him overboard like I wanted to, but I knew it would cause a scene and put an end to my plans for the night.
Ale came to the party for me. Her weak denials didn’t fool me. Even with my warning, she came, and now that we’ve crossed a threshold, there’s no going back.
She’s already mine.
My phone is ringing as I step out of the shower. I pick it up. “Speak.”
“She made it back to the hostel,” my driver says. “The receptionist said she arrived around five am.”
“Made it back to what?”
“Her hostel.”
“Cazzo. Where?”
“Sant Antoni.”
The cheaper side of Ibiza where a lot of the seasonal workers live. It’s been getting more and more dangerous over the last few years, mostly petty crime and robberies, but a few violent assaults too. I don’t like the idea of her staying there.
“What does it look like?” I ask.
“The hostel?” The driver blows out a breath. “I mean, it’s not great, but it could be worse.”
“Take photos and send them to me.”
“Yes, boss.”
I hang up and watch as the images come through. Hostel Clandestino. It’s an unkempt property on a street I know isn’t well lit at night.
She’s not going to be staying there much longer.
Ale has a shift on Saturday, and I make sure she’s assigned to clean my office. I can’t remember the last time I was here during the day on the weekend, but I don’t have the patience to wait until Monday to have the conversation I want to have with her. As I enter Revolvr, I greet the weekend staff and pour myself a hierbas from the premium bar before I make my way to the back. I’ve just gotten settled in behind my desk when the knock comes.
“Come in.”
The door cracks open, and there she is, in that plain blue uniform and a cart of cleaning supplies.
How the fuck does she still manage to be the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen?
She meets my gaze and sucks in a breath. Does she know I’m imagining her as naked as she was on my boat right now? Good. One look at her, and I’m already worked up. There’s no reason why she should be spared.
She shuts the door behind her and parks the cart by the wall. “We need to talk.”
What does my principessa want to say? It better be an apology for sneaking off in the middle of the night. She doesn’t get to walk away after giving me nothing but a little taste. I told her I’d get addicted. I made it clear that once my restraint snaps, she needs to be ready for everything I’ve been holding back.
Didn’t she believe me? I’ll remind her of the kind of man I am.
I lean back in my seat. “I have this fantasy where I bend you over my desk, fill you with my cum, and make you spend the rest of the day with me dripping down your thighs.”
I can’t help but grin when she lets out a helpless groan. She fucking walked out on me. Did she really think she could do that with no repercussions?
It takes her a moment to regain her composure. “You sure you don’t want a therapist? He’d have a field day with you. Fantasies like that usually have hidden meanings.”
“I know what this one means.”
“What?”
I lean forward and place my elbows on the desk. “It means I want to make you mine.”
Her eyes widen. There’s something really fucking satisfying about making her blush.
“Did you think that after Friday, all you’d need to do is to crook your finger at me, and I’ll come running?”
“I’m more interested in crooking my finger inside of you,” I say. “Maybe you don’t know this, but there’s a special spot there that makes a woman come.”
My allusion to her inexperience makes her turn beet red. “I need to get started on my work,” she says in a tight voice.
“We’re not done talking.”
“Yes, we are,” she says, reaching for the mop. “What happened on that boat isn’t going to happen again.”
Frustration unfurls inside my chest. She’s putting up resistance. Why? It’s clear as day that she wants to fuck me. What’s holding her back?
“Why not?” I demand.
She dips the mop into a bucket of soapy water and flicks her gaze to me.
“I’m not looking to get involved with anyone right now.”
“Why?” I repeat.
She brushes a strand of hair off her face, looking nervous. I know whatever comes out of her mouth won’t be the whole truth.
“Look, I practically just got here, and I’m not settled in yet. I have a million things on my mind.”
A million things I could resolve in a day if she’d let me.
I’ll start with one.
“My driver told me where you live,” I say.