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“I thought that would be nice. Except forthe walking part.” He sat and leaned forward, hands casually bracedon the silver dragon head that topped his cane. He thumped the endon the floor with purpose. “I’m going to leave the walking tosomeone else.”
“You’re not coming with me?”
He shook his head. “I need an hour, hour anda half to make sure everything is ready for tonight. I’ve selectedsomeone who’s eager to spend time with you. A friend of mine,actually.” Something naughty and pleased twinkled in Matt’seyes.
“So, I’m going to go somewhere with agentleman who wants to ‘spend time’ with me.” I made air quotes andignored the glide of the pearls against my intimate flesh as Iwalked back to him.
“Yes. I’ve given you to him. You’ll dowhatever he tells you. Do you understand that, princess?” Mattasked, reaching up to grab my chin roughly and hold it.
“Everything but come, my dragon,” I replied,moaning when he swiped his thumb across my lower lip.
“Good girl. He should be here any—”
The doorbell rang.
“I will go and get him,” Matt said with achuckle, pushing himself up. “You stay here.”
I stepped back, and he gave me a kiss on thetop of my head as he passed me. Technically, I was “staying here”by not leaving the bedroom, so I let myself go as far as the door.My toes touched, but didn’t cross, the line in the tile in thedoorway.
“Hey!” a deep voice enthused over the soundof the door opening. This was someone Matt knew well.
Not that I thought he would place me in theunsupervised hands of anactualstranger and give them carteblanche access to my body. Everything we’d done so far, at least inthe realm of him sharing me, had been with him present. He musthave trusted this person a lot.
Matt was equally enthusiastic in greetingthe stranger. “Dante! Good to see you again. It’s been a whilesince you’ve been down here. What’s keeping you away?”
“Touring. And touring. And touring.” The guylaughed. There was something familiar about his voice, and now thathe mentioned touring, my brain tried to place him.
“I was worried I’d lost a valuable guest.Hence my offer to…take advantage of my personal amenity,” Mattjoked. He’d better have been joking. Or we would have words.
Then again, there was no doubt that he wouldhave anticipated I would eavesdrop. He knew me too well, andfrankly, I knew myself well enough to know he was right not totrust me.
“It was an offer I could not refuse. Yousaid she’s fucking gorgeous,andshe’s staying in the housewith you.”
“Oh yes, she is,” Matt agreedwholeheartedly. “Want to meet her now?”
My heart leapt.
“Yeah, bring her out,” the stranger saidenthusiastically.
“Princess?” Matt called.
I glanced toward the mirror to make sure Ilooked…well, not presentable. No one could call naked in a pair ofkinky panties “presentable.” But I did look hot, and I was plentyfine with that.
The walk down the hall made me giggle, notjust with nerves about being handed over like a piece of property,but from the tickly, naughty feeling of the pearls. It would take atremendous amount of willpower and a lot of careful gauging of mybody’s responses to obey Matt’s “no coming” edict.
Matt and the stranger waited in the livingroom. The moment I saw the man’s face, the voice clicked intoplace. I knew exactly who he was, and his name was not Dante. Icouldn’t acknowledge that because of the resort rules. But he’dbeen a radio staple for months, with his own singles and featureson pop hits.
He wore his hair in thick dreads held backin a headband, and his tight white T-shirt displayed his famouslyshredded physique to perfection. Numerous tattoos turned nearlyevery visible expanse of his brown skin into a patchwork artgallery, and his dark eyes drank me in hungrily.
“Excellent customer service. Ten out often,” he said, licking his full bottom lip as he studied me fromthe toes up.
“Nothing but the best for our VIPs,” Mattsaid with a laugh.
“So, princess. Is that your name or yourtitle?” Dante asked me. It felt weird to hear someone other thanMatt call me princess.
“I’mhisprincess. You can call meCharlotte,” I explained. I wasn’t important enough to need to hidemy identity.
“Charlotte,” he repeated, and somehow itsounded like the filthiest dirty talk when he said it. He extendedhis hand to shake mine, scrutinizing my expression as he said, “Youcan call me Dante.”