Page 107 of Savage King

We bend underneath the rotors, despite them being up high enough that we're in no danger of becoming decapitated, and I marvel once more at how soundproof the inside of the chopper is as the droningchop-chopcreates a cotton feel in my eardrums.

He takes me to a metallic door guarded by two of his men that leads into a small elevator area. Soft music plays as we ride down. I take the opportunity to smooth out my hair, but so many strands have escaped my painstakingly arranged updo that I don't have much hope of recreating it.

"Leave it, you look stunning." Antonio steps behind me, and we look at each other in the mirror. Good grief, we make a striking couple.

The golden, form-fitting dress I chose is strapless, with a deep V cut. Two shell-shaped cups come up high enough to hide my breasts but allow a generous glimpse of their roundness. The material gathers around my hips before it glides down my legs. Along slit gives my legs the freedom to take actual steps instead of having to hop.

One of Antonio's hands splays over my stomach in an almost possessive way, eliciting a flutter that is more than simple sexual attraction. He leans forward, nibbling at my ear, and his deep breaths arouse my desire for him anew. I wonder if there is a pause button we could push. I'm not against a quick romp in the elevator. And now that I'm thinking about it… a deep ache spreads from my pussy.

Ding!

The doors open. Maybe on the way back? The idea of him fucking me in the elevator is just too tantalizing.

"This way, Mrs. DeLuna." My heart does a little skid. I don't think I'll ever get used to being called that name. He puts his hand on the hollow of my back and gently leads me through the empty foyer of one of the most luxurious anterooms I've ever seen. Aside from two of his men by the doors, there is no one else here. Even the desk by the entrance is empty. Outside, a long, black limousine awaits. Another guard is already holding the door open, while four more stand around, looking intimidating.

"Here's the tricky part. Hide your face here." He presses me against his chest and lifts his jacket to cover me; I giggle as we run toward the waiting limo.

I've been in limos before, so despite the extravagant trimmings, this, at least, is something semi-familiar.

An open bottle of champagne sits in a bucket of ice, complete with a white towel wrapped around it. Two glasses wait to be filled.

I slide down the bench, and Antonio follows right behind me. He fills two glasses and hands one to me. "Ready for a night to remember?"

The ache between my legs lets me know that all I need right now is his dick filling me to make this night memorable, but I know he has this all planned out, and I don't want to spoil it for him. But he had better be ready for me to jump his bones as soon as dinner is over.

We clink glasses again. His eyes sparkle, making it clear that he knows the state of horniness my body is in.Bastard.

I'm also in a dilemma. I can't spend the evening not drinking; that will make Antonio even more suspicious. He's already threatened to call Doc again after my latest puke fest this morning. I don't think a small sip of champagne will harm jellybean—But I'm getting more seriously attached to the idea that there is, in fact, a jellybean floating inside my body. So I pretend to take a long sip, which in fact is only a tiny amount, and even that is enough to make me feel guilty as hell. All the while, he's watching me like a hawk.

"Stomach problems?" He asks, concerned, when I place the glass back. Funny though, the sip tasted more like Martinelli's sparkling apple cider than champagne. I guess my taste buds must be taking a nosedive, because the bottle clearly states,Dom Perignon.

"No, I'm good," I assure him and warn jellybean to behave tonight.

The car stops in front of a very elegant, French-looking restaurant. We repeat the process of him holding his jacket over me until we enter the restaurant, where my breath stops.Literally stops. The entire restaurant is empty. Only one table in the center is covered with a white linen tablecloth. Tealights are lit everywhere, and I mean everywhere. There must be hundreds of them on the shelves, the floor, and windowsills.

"My lady," Antonio bows and takes my arm to lead me to the single table. Pulling a chair out, he helps me sit before he takes a seat himself. A bottle of my favorite mineral water is already open and waiting for us. He pours us two glasses.

"Where is everyone?" I whisper.

"In the kitchen. They'll leave as soon as they prepare the food." He holds out a black menu.

My hands shake when I take it. The lines on the menu blur as my eyes tear. He did this. He did all this for me.

"What would you like?" His voice is deep and raspy.

You.

"Uhm… why don't you choose?"

"Alright. I'll be right back." He moves out of his chair and walks to the kitchen area. My eyes follow his every step, and now I notice the fairy lights draped around vines decoratively spread where the ceiling meets the walls. I take in the many shelves filled with wine bottles, baskets, clay vases, and so much more. Where there aren't shelves on the wall, there are pictures. Black and white images of different French landscapes. Paris, Lyonne, Marseilles. A beach, a field, a forest. This entire place has so much atmosphere, it’s breathtaking.

Antonio returns with a red breadbasket on a small tray. He pulls the napkin back and exposes an assortment of croissants and rolls that make my mouth water. A small butter dish and anassortment of jellies in glass bowls surround the basket. I reach for a buttery-looking roll, and it's still warm.

"Oh my God!" I close my eyes as I bite into the delicious bread.

"Oh my God is right," he says roughly. And when I open my eyes, I stare into his hungry face. Flames dance inside his pupils. They're so glassy that they reflect the candlelight.

I break off a piece of roll and dip it in the butter. Reaching over the table, I say, "You have to try this."

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