Page 2 of Tempting Frankie
Stalking across the room, my eyes never leaving Francesca as she ducks behind a pillar for a moment’s respite. I want to run my tongue along the delicate curve of her neck, to taste the salt of her skin.
“Quite the sharp tongue you’ve got there,” I rumble as I sidle up next to her. “I’d say that prick got exactly what he deserved.”
Her head snaps up, those big chocolate eyes widening in shock. “Mr. Steele! I, uh…I didn’t realize you were here.”
“Alexander, please,” I purr, letting my gaze roam over her. My cock throbs, imagining how those tits would feel in my hands, how her ass would redden under my palm. “And I wouldn’t miss it. Watching you put that asshole in his place was the highlight of my evening.”
She bristles, chin lifting defiantly. “I’m just doing my job, sir. Now if you’ll excuse me?—”
“Relax, pretty girl,” I murmur, stepping closer. The scent of her perfume makes my mouth water. It smells like an orchard full of apples. “I’m not here to cause you any issues. Just wanted to say hello and I’m impressed. You handle yourself like a pro.”
Francesca’s eyes narrow, suspicion clear in every line of her body. I want to smooth away that tension, to make her melt under my touch until she’s boneless and begging.
“Thanks,” she says tersely. “Was there anything else?”
I lean in, close enough that my breath stirs the wisps of hair framing her face. “Just wondering how a woman like you ended up slinging drinks for these pompous pricks? You’re wasted here, Francesca.”
She jerks back like I’ve burned her, anger flashing in her eyes. “I don’t see how that’s any of your business, Mr. Steele.”
“Alexander,” I remind her, voice low and gravelly. “And maybe it’s not. But I’m making it my business now. You deserve better than this, Francesca.”
Her jaw clenches, and I imagine sinking my teeth into that soft flesh, marking her up. “I can take care of myself, thanks,” she snaps. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have work to do.”
She turns to leave, but I catch her wrist, my fingers spanning the delicate bones. If desire was a tangible thing it would betying us together, and I know she feels it too from the way her breath catches.
Yanking her arm away, she storms off. The way she just stood up to me only makes me want her more.
I adjust myself, imagining pinning her against the wall and ripping her pants down. Spreading those thighs and burying my face in her pussy until she’s a writhing, whimpering mess. Until she’s begging me to fuck her. Until her scent leeches into my pores.
Just the thought of how she used to belong to my son makes my dick throb harder. The forbidden temptation of it all. Taking what used to be his and making it mine.
I down another whiskey, barely tasting it as I watch her flit between tables again. My eyes zero in on her cheeks, imagining how they’d bounce as I pounded into her from behind. How she’d cry out as I yanked her hair, arching that delectable spine.
She squats to pick up a fallen napkin and I have to stifle a groan. That ass is a fucking work of art. I want to spank it until my handprint is tattooed on her skin. Until she’s begging me to stop and fill her up instead.
Francesca straightens, and for a moment our eyes lock across the room. Heat sizzles between us, and I know she feels it as well. Her cheeks flush, pupils dilating, and I imagine that’s how she’d look spread out on my bed. Flushed and panting as I worship every inch of her.
She tears her gaze away, but not before I see want in those big eyes even if only for a moment. Oh sweetheart, you have no idea the things I want to do to you. How I want to ruin you for any other man.
I picture her on her knees, those full lips wrapped around my cock as I fist my hands in her hair. The noises she’d make as I fuck her throat. How she’d gag and choke, but beg for more.
The thought of my son having touched her makes my jaw clench. That little shit never appreciated what he had. I’ve seen the way he treats women—using them up and tossing them aside.
My son’s a goddamn fool for letting her go. But his loss is my gain. I want to erase every memory she has of him. To make her scream my name as she comes on my dick again and again.
I’ll have her. It’s only a matter of time. I always get what I want, and right now, I want Francesca writhing beneath me, pleading for me.
To hell with propriety. To hell with the fact that she used to be Cameron’s. She’ll be mine soon enough. And I’m going to enjoy every moment of claiming her as my own.
Whatever it takes to get her in my bed and under my hand.
“Refill, Mr. Steele?” A server materializes at my elbow.
“No,” I growl, waving him off. “But I’ll take that guest list.”
The poor kid looks confused. “Sir?”
“Your catering company. I want their information. Now.”
