Page 7 of Tempting Frankie (Lust & Luxury #1)

Alexander

I wake with the sun, Francesca's soft body pressed against me. Carefully extricating myself, I walk naked toward the suite's entrance, my cock half-hard from morning wood and thoughts of last night.

Picking up the phone on the entry table, I dial room service. “I want a full breakfast spread. Eggs Benedict, French toast, fresh fruit. And every goddamn sandwich on your menu.”

“I'm sorry, sir, but we don't serve lunch items until?—”

“Listen here,” I growl, cutting off the sniveling little prick. “I'm Alexander fucking Steele. I own half this city, including the company that owns this overpriced hotel. Unless you want to explain to your boss why you lost his biggest investor, you'll get me those fucking sandwiches.”

There's a pause, then a meek, “Yes, Mr. Steele. Right away, sir.”

I hang up, smirking. Nothing like throwing my weight around to get the blood pumping.

Turning back to the bedroom, I see Francesca stirring, her body peeking out from under the sheets.

“Rise and shine, sweetheart,” I call out, striding back to the bed. “I’ve got a big day planned for you.”

Francesca blinks up at me, those big brown eyes still hazy with sleep. Fuck, she looks so good like this. Quiet and content. I know soon enough she’s going to open that mouth of hers and give me a run for my money with her cutting mouth.

My cock twitches, reminding me of all the filthy things I want to do to her and how I should be buried in nirvana right now.

“Come on,” I growl, yanking the sheets off her. “Time to get that sweet ass out of bed. Unless you want to go out smelling like sex, cum and me. I’m not opposed.”

She yelps as I scoop her up, tossing her over my shoulder like a sack of potatoes. Her breasts press against my back, and I can't resist giving her butt a firm smack.

“Alexander!” she squeals, squirming in my grip. “Put me down, you brute!”

I chuckle, carrying her into the massive bathroom. “Not a chance, pretty girl. Daddy's got plans for you.”

Setting her down on the cool marble counter, I turn to the oversized tub and turn on the faucet. Steam rises as I adjust the temperature, making sure it's just right.

“Get in,” I order, gesturing to the tub. “Relax those muscles. I wore your pretty ass out last night.”

Francesca flushes, but doesn't argue. Good fucking girl.

“I've got some calls to make. Don't fall asleep and drown. I’d very much like you alive. Fucking corpses doesn’t do it for me. I leave that shit to Robert Blackwood’s bat shit crazy sons.”

Twenty minutes later, I enter the bathroom again. Francesca's just stepping out, water droplets cascading down her curves. My dick hardens instantly at the sight of her clean and bare, still pink and swollen from last night.

“Well, well,” I drawl, drinking in the sight of her. “Looks like my timing is impeccable.”

“Enjoying the view?” she snarks, reaching for a towel. There goes that vicious little tongue of her, finally awake and ready to lash me.

I snatch it away, crowding her against the counter. “Very much,” I growl, palming one of her cheeks and dipping my fingers into her crack. She shudders but stays suspiciously quiet.

My hands roam over Francesca's silky skin as I work the towel down her legs. I take my sweet fucking time, savoring every inch of her. When I reach her feet, I lift each one, carefully drying between her toes. My dick throbs, imagining those pretty feet wrapped around it.

“Turn around,” I command, rising. “Lean over the sink. Gotta make sure I get every. Last. Inch.”

Francesca hesitates. “This is weird, Alexander. I can dry myself.”

I reach up and grab her chin, forcing her to meet my gaze. “Did I fucking stutter? Bend. Over. If you’re going to be mine, you’re going to learn how to obey first.”

Her eyes widen, pupils dilating with arousal. She may protest, but her body can't lie. Slowly, she turns and bends over the marble countertop, her lower body on full display.

I grab a fresh towel, soft and plush. Spreading her ass cheeks wide, I drink in the sight of her puckered hole and glistening pussy. “Fuck me, that's a pretty sight,” I growl. “Both your holes look good enough to eat.”

I drag the towel slowly between her legs, making sure to apply extra pressure. The fluffy fabric rubs roughly against her clit, and she gasps, squirming. I smirk, knowing exactly what I'm doing to her.

“Hold still,” I order, voice low and dangerous. I continue my merciless assault, grinding the towel against her most sensitive spots. Her legs start trembling and I can see her pussy getting wetter by the second.

“Alexander,” she whimpers, voice breathy.

“What's wrong, sweetheart? Just drying you off,” I say innocently, though there's nothing innocent about the way I'm working that towel against her slit.

Her hips start rocking, desperately seeking more friction. I pull the towel away abruptly and she whines at the loss of contact.

“All done,” I announce, giving her cheek a sharp smack. “Now breakfast is here, so let’s go.”

I watch Francesca scurry to grab a robe, her breasts bouncing deliciously with each step. Fuck, I'd rather eat her for breakfast.

“Really?” I scoff as she wraps the fluffy white fabric around her curves. “Trying to hide your body from me now?”

She rolls her eyes. “Unlike some people, I prefer not to dine in the nude.”

I shrug, strutting past her bare-assed. “Your loss. Nothing beats the freedom of letting it all hang out.”

We enter the suite's lavish sitting area, and I've got to admit, the kitchen staff outdid themselves. The mahogany table is covered end-to-end with silver platters. The aroma of fresh coffee and sizzling bacon fills the air.

“Holy shit,” Francesca breathes, eyes wide. “Did you order the entire menu?”

“Damn straight,” I reply, lifting silver covers at random. Eggs Benedict, check. Towering stack of French toast, check. And there, on the far end, a platter piled high with every sandwich known to man. “When I say jump, they ask how high.”

I grab a plate and start loading it up. Francesca hesitates, eyeing the spread warily.

She flushes, grabbing her own plate. “You're impossible.”

We settle on the plush chairs, plates loaded in front of us. I pulled the other chairs away from the table and only left one right next to me. I spread my legs wide, cock resting heavily against my thigh. Francesca tries not to stare, but I catch her sneaking glances.

“See something you like?” I tease, reaching down to give my shaft a lazy stroke.

She swallows hard. “You're conceited.”

“You love it,” I counter, taking a huge bite of eggs Benedict. Some of the hollandaise sauce drips down my chin, and I wipe it away with my thumb before sucking it clean. Francesca's eyes darken, following the movement.

I lean closer, voice dropping low. “You know what would make this breakfast even better? If you were on your knees between my legs, that pretty mouth wrapped around me while I eat.”

She nearly chokes on her coffee. “We're eating.”

“So? Protein's an important part of a balanced diet,” I drawl, waggling my eyebrows suggestively.

Francesca huffs, but I can see the way her nipples have hardened beneath the robe. Her body can't lie to me, especially now.

I set my empty plate aside, patting my lap. “Come here, baby girl. Let Daddy feed you a sandwich.”

“Oh my god,” she mumbles around a mouthful of food. “Is that why there are all those sandwiches?”

I chuckle darkly. “Just following the shirt as requested. Gotta keep you well-fed. Next time we'll be at my place, and I'll make you a goddamn sandwich myself. Right after I eat you.”

“Bold of you to assume there'll be a next time,” she says, arching an eyebrow at me while licking the corner of her mouth. “Maybe I'm a one-sandwich kind of girl.”

“There will be, there will be many next times. Finish your breakfast, sweetheart,” I order. “Then get dressed. We've got places to be.”

She cocks an eyebrow at me. That sassy mouth I can’t wait to fuck curling into a smirk. “Oh really? And just what am I supposed to wear? That red dress from last night is a cum-stained disaster, thanks to you.”

Before I can retort, there's a sharp knock at the door.

“Perfect timing,” I growl, striding over buck naked.

I throw open the door, not giving a single fuck about my state of undress. The bellhop's eyes go wide, darting anywhere but my swinging cock.

“The, uh, items you requested, Mr. Steele,” he stammers, thrusting a handful of bags at me.

I snatch them up, tossing a handful of bills his way.

Kicking the door shut, I turn back to Francesca with a wolfish grin. “Problem solved.”

I toss the bags onto the couch, contents spilling out. Designer labels peek out—La Perla lingerie, a slinky Versace dress, sky-high Louboutins.

“Jesus, Alexander,” Francesca breathes, fingering the delicate lace of a bra. “This stuff costs more than my rent, by like a lot.”

“I like options. Take your pick so we can go.”