Page 20 of Wicked

I get closer, and I watch him closely. He mumbles and rolls around, dozing.

His longish jet-black hair gives him a rugged style, and he has stubble and an edible six-pack. Did he take me last night? Is he from Tinder? No way.

Surely!

I realize I can just ask him, so I pull a towel over my legs and sit on the coffee table, watching him.

As he stirs and rolls over, it’s clear. He has a thick and long cock. Also, a morning erection. His body is also edible, and I lean closer, keen to see if the six-pack is real. I’m inches away from contact when he growls, “Away.”

I leap back and keep my distance. How in hell could he have seen me with his eyes closed?

“I was checking you don’t have a weapon!”

I watch him roll over half-asleep, like a sexy black wolf in a cave. He has not answered. I need to ask him if he was inside me.

“Did we have a date?”

The stranger with eyes closed growls, “No, and you’re not my type.”

“So, what is your type?” I snap too fast.

“Pre… fucked, sophisticated, and someone who sleeps in.”

“And I’m not those?”

“No,” he says, rolling over. I watch his erection and bite my lip. “You’re likely crazy and I suspect trouble too.”

“The hell I am,” I say, way too fast. “I’d be hot in bed.” I cover my mouth, and the rugged hunk turns, opening one eye.

He smirks before pulling a t shirt over his face to stop the forming light in the day. It’s a lot to take in, and my mind starts to race.

Car… Yes… Crash…Shit.A bath… Sexy man washing…Rogue.

“Woah,” I say. “What the hell are you doing here?” The strange hunk inhales, and it looks like he’s trying to boot up pre-coffee. I lift my chin, and Iwant answers.

“Look, stranger! Did you take me last night or not?”

I refuse to miss out on losing my virginity, and I’ll be pissed if I got taken and do not remember it. There is no reply, andwithout warning, the stranger, with wood, rolls up and runs his hands through his hair.

“Listen up, crazy, and listen good. I do not claim women in distress. It’s considered bad form.”

“Just as well!” I huff, confused.

The stranger, who I now remember is called Dante, looks at me. His eyes are hot, and I try not to stare down to his thick hungry junk under the black satin. He pulls the white blanket over himself, and I pull my own damp towel over my thong.

I raise my chin high, and Dante shakes his head, smirks, and walks out of the room. Perfect butt and all.

After several minutes of trying to take it all in, I huff and patter out of the suite.

I find the bathroom in the Italian villa, and it’s a complete bomb site. My denim shorts are even hanging from a hook, and my top is hanging from a light.

I notice the bathroom has no shower, and it is old-fashioned, like the rest of the village I remember seeing yesterday. Huffing, I run the bath and stare at the sea.

After a short bath,I smell coffee and realize just how much I need one. I change into the only other clean clothes I have in the hotel suite and my bag—a denim mini and a retro band tee.

I notice the rogue has been through his expensive black leather bag, and he’s left a mess. I quickly do my hair, put on lipstick, and I walk downstairs, unsure what to expect.

As I lean into an old-fashioned room with statues, swords, shields, and Renaissance paintings, I notice it looks along the coast.

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