Page 16 of Casita Casanova
I’m fucked if I stay here.
But California?Really?
What the hell is Ridge Westcott going to do in California?
I’ve never even heard of this Leucadia place. And what little I could find online didn’t sell it either. Small town bullshit, that’s what they’re selling. And that’s not my speed.
I live fast, fuck hard, and look like a fucking God doing both.
They’re not going to know what hit them when I step into town.
So much for keeping a low profile. I’ll be the biggest thing that ever happened to that tiny speck on the map. I scoff, then swing at the bag again, grunting when my fist connects improperly and pain rushes up my arm in a wave.
“Someone’s in a bad mood.”
Her timing is impeccable and I smile at the sound of her voice. Blonde and beautiful, Alexis Akash is the hottest trophy wife in my building.
She’s also lonely as hell and always down to fuck.
Discreetly, of course. Lex wouldn’t risk the multi-million-dollar kingdom she married into for anyone or anything—not even yours truly. Although, to be fair, I’ve been quite clear about my intentions. Leavinganyonefor me would be a colossal mistake.
I slowly turn around and let my gaze travel over her body. She’s stacked, the best of everything money can buy, from her inhumanly peach-shaped ass to her double ds, to the nose, lips, and the neck that somehow doesn’t seem to age even as she continues moving toward the big five-oh.
“Alexis,” I say, dragging her name out slowly.
“Westcott.” She licks her lips and my cock responds with a little jump. “You’ve gotten into a little mischief lately.”
She’s seen my gorgeous face plastered all over the tabloids this morning and came to lay her eyes—and bangin’ body—on the real deal. I flash her my panty-dropping smile because I know she’s a sucker for it. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Hm.” She’s dressed in a matching bra and workout pants that look like they’ve been painted on in a bright shade of green that makes her eyes pop. They dance down my body now, taking in the torso I work damn hard for and the sweat dripping down into the waistline of my boxing shorts. As she ogles me, I unwrap my hands and stride toward her. The gym’s empty, but knowing Alexis as I do, she’d rather go back to my place to avoid getting caught, so I never get to fuck her in front of the floor to ceiling mirrors lining this room.
But I step past her, grab my bag, and head for the elevator bay. My place is just a few floors above us, a quick trip and then I’m balls deep in Alexis Akash. I don’t have to look behind me to know she follows; we’ve done this dance before.
We ride the elevator up in silence and on opposite sides. She stays close to the door, standing near the display of buttons to keep out of the camera’s watchful eye. I’m sure there are cameras on each level—in fact, I know there are—but as wealthy as her husband is, I’m wealthier. Or, will be as soon as I take my rightful place at the throne of Westcott & Son Investments. Money talks in a world like ours, but so does a name like mine. Doing so was probably unnecessary because of the weight my name holds in this city, but I’ve paid security a hefty penny to keep my indiscretions a secret.
Especially where Alexis Akash is concerned. Her husband is not an enemy I care to have. With a financial empire thatalmostrivals my own, I play nice and stay on the man’s good side.
Which is why I should probably stay away from her.
But I’m only human and she’s hot as fuck.
She’s also ready and willing, and I’m tense, stressed out, and feeling like shit about myself today, which isn’t something I care for or want to continue.
Might as well let her worship me for a few hours so I can remember the fucking god that I am.
As soon as we’re on the other side of my penthouse door, she’s on me. Her hands tangle in my hair and her full lips press against mine, desperate for me. She scrambles up my body like a cat on a tree, slamming me against the door as she devours me like the decadent snack I am.
I drop my bag and wrap my arms around her plump ass, holding her against me as I walk us toward the far wall of windows lining my living room.
If her husband knew that neglecting her drives her into my arms, maybe he’d fuck her more than once a year.
She’s in the prime of her sexual life and I’m reaping the benefits.
What a schmuck Arman Akash is.
But I can’t complain about casual, no strings attached sex whenever I want it. I should thank the guy.
Her tongue delves deeply into my mouth, caressing mine with firm, hungry strokes. She grinds her hips against me, drawing the blood to my cock and whimpering when it hardens between us.
