Page 16 of Tempting Frankie (Lust & Luxury #1)

He leans in, his knee brushing against mine under the table. “I like dangerous games, Francesca. Especially when playing with you. Every time I fuck you raw is a dangerous game.”

My panties are already damp, and we haven't even gotten to the main course. I shift in my seat; the movement causing the slit in my dress to ride up dangerously high on my thigh.

Alexander's eyes darken as he notices. His hand disappears under the tablecloth, and I have to bite back a gasp as his fingers trail up my leg, teasing along the edge of my thigh-high stockings.

“Tell me,” he murmurs, his fingers inching higher. “What makes this game so dangerous?”

I struggle to keep my voice steady as his hand creeps toward the junction of my thighs.

“It's dangerous because...” I trail off, biting back a moan as Alexander's fingers brush against my already soaked panties. “Because I want the job. I want it so fucking bad. But there's no way I can keep it after our deal is up.”

His fingers still, and I whimper at the loss. “What makes you think that, pretty girl?”

I let out a shaky laugh. “Come on, Alexander. The second our arrangement ends, I'll be out on my ass faster than you can say 'nepotism.'”

Alexander's eyes flash with something dangerous. In one swift motion, he pulls me onto his lap, my dress riding up to my hips. I gasp, acutely aware of how exposed I am, how easily someone could see us if they looked our way.

“Listen to me very carefully, Francesca,” he growls, his breath hot against my ear. “The job is yours for as long as you want it. It has nothing to do with our arrangement.”

His hand slides between my thighs, and I have to bite my lip to keep from crying out as he pushes my panties aside and slides a finger inside me.

“You're brilliant,” he continues, his voice low and intense. “Resourceful. Determined. I want that mind of yours working for me, deal or no deal.”

He adds another finger, and I grip his shoulders, struggling to focus on his words and not the pressure building inside me.

“But—” I start to argue, but he cuts me off with a particularly skillful twist of his fingers.

“No buts,” he says firmly. “The job is yours, Francesca. For two months, two years, or twenty. It's up to you.”

His thumb finds my clit, and I bury my face in his neck to muffle my moan. “Fuck, Alexander,” I pant. “You can't just–oh god—you can't just fingerfuck me into submission every time we disagree.”

He chuckles, the sound vibrating through me. “Can't I?” He increases his pace, and I feel myself teetering on the edge. “Come for me. Show me how much you want this job.”

It's too much—his fingers inside me, his words in my ear, the thrill of possibly being caught. I come apart in his arms, waves of pleasure crashing over me as I bite down on his shoulder to keep from screaming.

As I come down from my high, I realize I'm trembling. Alexander holds me close, his hand rubbing soothing circles on my back.

“Okay,” I whisper, my voice hoarse. “Okay, I'll take the job. But I swear to god, Alexander, if this is just some power play…”

He silences me with a kiss, hard and possessive. When he pulls back, I hear a familiar voice that cuts through the haze of pleasure.

“Well, well. What do we have here?”

Shit. I freeze, still perched on Alexander's lap, my dress bunched up. Slowly, I turn my head to see Cameron standing there. His handsome face twisted into a sneer.

“Frankie,” he drawls, green eyes glinting with malice. “Fancy seeing you here. And with my father, no less. How fucking cozy.”

I scramble off Alexander's lap, yanking my dress down. My face burns as I realize how this must look. Lips swollen and probably reeking of sex.

Alexander rises, cool as ever. “Cameron,” he says, his voice clipped. “This is a private dinner. I suggest you leave.”

But Cameron's not backing down. His eyes rake over me, taking in my flushed skin and the way my nipples are still hard against the thin fabric of my dress.

“Private dinner, huh?” he scoffs. “Looks more like you're fucking my sloppy seconds, old man.”

Rage boils up inside me. How dare he? After the way he treated me, the cruel words, the cheating. Before I can stop myself, I'm in his face, jabbing a finger into his chest.

“Listen here, you entitled little prick,” I snarl. “You lost any right to comment on my life when you decided to stick your dick in that bottle bleach blonde bimbo from marketing.”

Cameron's eyes widen in surprise, then narrow dangerously. “Oh please,” he sneers. “Like you're any better. Look at you, Frankie. All dolled up and spreading your legs for my daddy. Tell me, how much is he paying you to be his little whore?”

The slap echoes through the restaurant before I even realize what I've done. Cameron's head snaps to the side, a red handprint blooming on his cheek.

“Fuck you,” I hiss, my voice shaking with fury. “You don't know a goddamn thing about me or him.”

Cameron laughs, the sound bitter and mocking. “Oh, please. I know exactly what this is. Daddy's newest toy, bought and paid for.” He leans in close, his breath hot on my face. “Tell me, Frankie, how much is the old man shelling out for your used goods?”

Before I can react, Alexander is on his feet, his hand gripping Cameron's arm with bruising force. “That's enough,” he growls, his voice low and dangerous. “You will not speak to Francesca that way.”

Cameron wrenches his arm free, his face flushed with anger and alcohol. “Of course you'd defend her,” he sneers. “She's probably the best pussy you've had in years. But tell me, Dad, does she call you Daddy in bed too?”

“Fuck you, Cameron,” I spit. “You want to know the truth? Your dad fucks me better than you ever could. He makes me scream his name, makes me come so hard I see stars. And yeah, sometimes I do call him Daddy. Because he takes care of me in ways your selfish ass never could.”

Cameron's face contorts with rage. He lunges forward, but Alexander steps between us, his broad shoulders an impenetrable wall.

“That's enough,” Alexander says, his voice like steel. “Cameron, you're drunk. Go home before you embarrass yourself further.”

“Embarrass myself?” Cameron laughs bitterly. “That's rich, coming from you. Parading around with my ex like some trophy wife.”

“I said, that's enough,” Alexander growls, his voice low and dangerous. He turns to me, his eyes softening. “Francesca, wait for me in the car. I need to have a word with my son.”

I hesitate, torn between wanting to stay and defend myself and the desperate need to escape this nightmare. Alexander cups my face gently, his thumb stroking my cheek.

“Go, little one,” he murmurs. “I'll handle this.”