How to Lose a Fiance

by Stefanie London

  “I’m happy to go to battle.” His lips curved into a wicked smile.

  “I’ll make sure I bring my sword.” Her eyes were alight, power radiating from her like a magnetic field that gripped him by the balls. She was majestic. “I’m making a vow to myself that I am done being a puppet. I’m done being a pawn. From now on, I’m going to take care of myself.”

  He dipped his head, forehead pressing against hers as he sucked it all in. Perfume on her skin, champagne on her breath, the fierce set of her lips. She fisted her hands in his shirt. Was this what it was like to fall for someone? Because no other woman had ever captivated him like this.

  He was inches from the edge of the cliff, ready to tumble into the deep abyss below.

  The bass from the low, sensual dance music created a rhythm in his blood. There was nothing tangible left, only sensation. The flicker of lights, the tightening grip of her hands at his shirt, the pulse of his cock as she rubbed against him. The club was warm, the scent of booze permeating the air, intoxicating them. While she was languid, liquid softness, he was hard. Everywhere. His teeth scraped her neck, stubble roughing up her skin. His hands were full of her, roaming the curve of her ass and the slope of her hips. Dion’s seduction had come to fruition.

  Watching Sophia’s transformation tonight had been truly fascinating. Now, with her eyes turning slowly black with excitement and her body softening under his touch, this was raw, uninhibited Sophia. The real Sophia. The woman she’d tried so damn hard to hide away from him. That was the woman he wanted. And he was certain with every cell in his body that she wanted him, too.

  Her face tipped up to his, eyes fluttering shut as her lips parted. Her body was perfectly soft and gently shaped with a sexy yet subtle dent at her waist followed by the sweet swell of her small breasts. Touching her was like lowering himself into a bath—heat crept through him, slowly swallowing him whole.

  It wasn’t enough. Nothing would be enough until he dragged her to some dark corner and got what he needed.

  “You’re so fucking sexy like this. So powerful,” he growled into her ear. “Why have you been hiding from me all this time?”

  She rested her cheek against his, her lips brushing his skin. “I needed to figure out who I was.”

  They moved together, hips swaying and hands roaming. Her dress had ridden up her legs, tempting him to brush his hand along the inside of her thigh. Everything about her was a trip for his senses—all that smooth skin and silky hair. She was a goddess.

  “Don’t screw me over, okay?” she said, her hands driving into his hair. “I don’t want to have to take you down.”

  He chuckled. “Easy. I’m not your enemy.”

  “I guess you’re not, fiancé.”

  “I have to get you the ring first. Get down on one knee.”

  Something flickered across her face—an emotion so fleeting it was gone before he could identify it. The shifting lights made it hard to read her. “I guess we should start acting like we’re in love, then.”

  “With pleasure.”

  He brought his mouth down to hers, coaxing her lips open so he could taste her. His free hand pressed into her lower back, and she arched into him. God, it was like heaven and hell—sweet as candy and fiery hot. Her tongue swiped along his lip, leaving the taste of champagne in its wake.

  Sophia held him tight, her fingers gripping his hair as she kissed him back with brute force. This was no chaste kiss—it was raw and desperate. A battle for supremacy. Her breath quickened, and her lips devoured his.

  Yes.

  Victory again. The sweet fuel set his blood boiling, his cock impossibly hard, and the voice in his head screamed at him to push her up against a wall. The DJ shouted something over the music, and a whooping cheer rose from the dance floor. The sound swelled, getting louder and louder, drowning out Sophia’s voice. When the crush surged, he took her hand and pulled her along. They found a dark corridor, slipped behind the barricade that said “staff only,” and tucked themselves around a corner. The wall vibrated with the thump of bass from a speaker on the other side. They were right near the DJ booth.

  She grabbed his head, bringing his mouth down to hers with a determination that made his whole body throb. A thought flickered at the periphery of his mind, a concern about professionalism and having the paparazzi see them like this. Because this kiss was about to ignite them both. He traced the curve of her shoulders, the smooth length of her thigh from her knee to where the hem of her dress finished.

  She sighed, dropping her head back as he kissed his way up her neck and winding her arms around him. The way she clung to him, trusting and willing, was everything. It set him alight. He lifted her, her legs coming up around his waist. Pressing. Wanting. His cock found the sweet spot between her thighs and nestled there, her warmth penetrating the thin layers of fabric that kept them from total satisfaction.

  One hand cupped her breast, thumbing the hard nipple beneath the beaded fabric. A sharp bite of pain flared within him as her nails dug into his shoulders, but the sensation blossomed into an electric heat that burned through him.

  “I want you.” He could barely hear the words as she shouted into his ear, the vibrating thump of the bass rattling through his body.

  He shook his head. “Not here.”

  He let her down and pulled her farther into the bowels of the club, following the winding corridor until they exited out of a small door. They came out into an alley and headed toward the street.

  “Do you not…” She was still holding his hand, still following him. “Am I not what you like?”

  He speared her with a look. “Let me make something clear, Sophia. We might be getting married to further our own futures, but that doesn’t mean I’m not attracted to you.”

  “Then why are we leaving?”

  He paused in the street and bent his head to hers, capturing the surprised “O” on her lips and forcing her mouth into submission. There was no hesitation in her return kiss.

  “Because when you scream my name, I want to be able to hear it.” He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

  Her lips quirked. “That’s presumptuous.”

  “Confident,” he corrected. “And accurate.”

  …

  The second they got back to the apartment, they tumbled through the front door and all the composure they’d maintained on the street—walking hand in hand like two well-behaved adults—was gone. Dion had her up against the wall, the sharp intake of her breath cutting through the quiet air when he shoved her skirt up and pressed the heel of his palm between her legs.

  “That’s what I was talking about,” he said. “That sound. I wouldn’t have heard it in the club, and what a fucking crime that would be.”

  He captured her mouth, and the soft glide of his tongue against hers left her weak at the knees. He tasted of heaven. One hand ground slowly against the tender, throbbing space between her legs while the other was at her waist, then her rib cage, then her breast. Kneading. Squeezing. Flicking.

  “Oh!” Her head jerked back as he thumbed her nipple through her dress. It was like a volt of electricity had shot straight through her.

  “And I wouldn’t have heard that.” He chuckled against the side of her neck as he nipped at the sensitive skin there. Each bite was soothed with a swipe of his tongue in a maddening pattern.

  Shamelessly, she rubbed against his hand. It had been so long since she’d felt this good, strung tighter than a wire and ready to snap. But she wanted more. Skin-to-skin more.

  “My dress,” she gasped. “Help me out of it.”

  He pressed his lips to her neck. “Turn around.”

  Feeling suddenly shaky on her heels, she turned to face the wall. They were still only just inside the doorway to the apartment, having not even wasted a step or two coming farther into the living room. She planted her hands against the wall. Deft fingers swept her hair away from the back of her dress, and a sharp sound pierced the air as he drew the zipper down. She
pulled her arms out, and the fabric slid down her body to puddle at her feet.

  Sophia resisted the urge to cover herself. Any time she was naked with a man—which had occurred on precisely three other occasions, with two other men—she heard the words of her first boyfriend taunting her flat chest. Fried eggs, he’d called them. Needless to say, he hadn’t seen anything else after that.

  “Maybe we could turn the lights off,” she said, breathless. It was a strange sensation to be so utterly turned on and yet so incredibly self-conscious at the same time.

  “But then I won’t be able to see your beautiful face.” His voice was like nails pinning her to a wall. “Or your beautiful body.”

  He curled his hand into a loose fist and ran the backs of his knuckles down her spine, causing her breathing to become shallow. Sophia bit down onto her lip as he traced the subtle curve of her ass and back again.

  “You’re not…disappointed?” God, did she have to sound so pathetic? She was going to ruin this incredible night with her inferiority issues.

  “Nothing about you is disappointing,” Dion said. “Not on the outside or on the inside. Now that I know the real you, I am even more attracted to you.”

  For a moment, there was nothing. No touch, no sound. Just a great, stretching absence of sensation that made her body vibrate like a tuning fork. How could she feel something so strong when there was so little to warrant it?

  “Do you feel that?” he asked eventually.

  “What?” She turned to look over her shoulder, palms still planted against the wall.

  “Anticipation.” He looked like the devil himself—with his dark stare and black suit. With the shadow along his jaw and those wicked, wicked lips. “Buildup. You feel as though I’m touching you when I’m not.”

  She did feel it. A tightness gathered at her sex, a strange pulsing sensation that made her want to press her thighs together.

  “Why wait?” she asked. Her voice did not sound like it belonged to her anymore—she was detached with lust. Unhinged with the need to have him.

  “Because the waiting is the best bit.” He planted his hands on the wall, next to hers, caging her body with his. But there was no contact—he held himself in such a way that no part of them touched. Yet she trembled, and the lacy panties she’d bought on a whim the day previous were growing damp.

  “Please touch me. I…”

  “Yes, Sophia mou?”

  She knew that word. Mine.

  “I need it.” It was like her body had suddenly realized how much she’d deprived it of affection. After the boy who’d claimed her virginity had turned out to be a master manipulator, a carbon copy of her father, she’d shut herself away. One more man, and he’d been as disappointing as the first. She’d become afraid to get tricked again. Sex had slid way down the list of her priorities. Even touching herself had felt pointless.

  But now all those years of disappointment and loneliness and unfulfilled need came roaring back like a monster out of the darkness.

  “Please.” She wanted to weep. “Please touch me.”

  “Almost.” The whisper of warm breath on the back of her neck was as strong as a Taser, and her body jolted. “I’m going to teach you to crave this part. To know that I’m so desperate to have you that I’m punishing myself by holding back until the very moment I can’t bear it any longer.”

  She had no idea what voodoo he’d woven on her, what spell he’d cast. But for all her reservations and games and resistance—tonight, she was his.

  “Dion.” His name was a keening moan of desperation on her lips, and the returning growl set her soul on fire.

  He reached around her body, his fingers finding her center, rubbing a series of slow, intense circles against her sex. Her clit ached, desperate for release.

  “Yes,” she gasped, her fingers curling against the white wall. There was nothing for her to grab onto, but that didn’t stop her from trying.

  His mouth came to the back of her neck, a finger breaching the edge of her panties to softly stroke the seam of her sex. He’d be able to feel how wet she was, how insanely aroused and excited. But she didn’t care—couldn’t care. Not while he was pushing her so close to an orgasm she knew would shatter her completely.

  “Please.” The word dissolved on her tongue as he kissed her shoulders and spine, the tip of his finger pressing against her entrance.

  “Are you ready?” His words were rough, sharp. Like gravel. “Are you ready to feel my fingers inside you?”

  “Please, please.” She couldn’t string any more words together. “Yes.”

  The second he slid a finger inside her, she thought she’d break. Her internal muscles clenched around him immediately, trying to draw him all the way in. But he held on to his control, sliding in and out slowly. Easing her into it. Stretching her.

  She ground her ass back against him, feeling the hard length of his cock digging into her. So big. Hard as a goddamn rock. Then he shifted, slipping another finger inside her, rubbing against the little bundle of nerves with each stroke. That was it. Game over.

  “Oh. My. God.” Her body shook, and she tumbled, wave after wave of pleasure crashing over her. Filling her. Drowning her.

  He held her there until it subsided. Until her heart slowed and her breath came in longer beats. Until she was able to stand on her own. She twisted her body, turning her head to look at him as best she could while still braced against the wall. Only then did he withdraw his hand and kiss her trembling lips.

  “See. It’s so much better when you wait,” he said.

  Almost immediately, her hunger resurfaced, and she turned. “I don’t want to wait now.”

  Her fingertips grazed him, feeling the strength of him through his suit pants. She wasn’t done yet, not by a long shot. Finding the tab on his zipper, she pulled it down, and she snaked her hand in so she could wrap her fingers around his cock. He was hot against her palm, thick and heavy. Very thick. She squeezed tentatively and was rewarded with a low, ragged groan.

  “We need a condom,” he said, swearing in Greek when she slid her hand along his length. “Bedroom. Now.”

  He practically dragged her through the fancy apartment, his pants only hanging on to his hips because she hadn’t undone the hook at his waist. It was undeniable how good his attraction made her feel. It smoothed over her, filling in the cracks and dents and chips in her confidence. Working against the erosion that had happened over many years. It restored her. Made her believe that she was a powerful woman who could start over.

  Be someone better. Someone stronger.

  Her calves hit the edge of the big king bed as he backed her up. The duvet was perfectly smooth from where she’d made it this morning, having absolutely no idea that they would be here now. Together. He left her only for a moment, returning with a foil packet. Then he tossed it onto the bed.

  “Take everything off,” he said. His voice was ragged and low, his accent more pronounced, as though lust were slowly turning him into a base version of himself.

  She stuck her thumbs under the elastic of the lace underwear and slid it down her hips, peeling the fabric from her body. But the towering stilettos were going to stay, she’d decided. The extra height gave her confidence and a wiggle in her step that she liked very much. She tipped forward from her waist so that her hands landed on the bed and her ass waved high in the air. A guttural groan came from Dion’s throat.

  “You’re incredible.” He stalked closer. “Stay there and let me look.”

  Her whole body clenched as cool air drifted across her sex. She’d never done anything like this before. Let herself be scrutinized in the most basic, primal way possible. She wanted to cover herself, her hand drifting over where dark, curled hair covered her sex, but Dion’s hand shot out and stopped her.

  “It’s beautiful.”

  “You need to strip down, too,” she said. “Even this up a little.”

  She turned and watched intently, heart in her throat, as he did what she sai
d. He ripped his shirt out of the waistband of his pants and popped only enough buttons so he could tear the damn thing over his head. Then came shoes, socks, his pants. All that was left was a pair of black boxer briefs, and soon they were gone, too.

  He was all bronzed muscle and sharp lines. His erection curved up toward his belly, strong and hard. She’d never really looked closely at one before, her only experience with sex done under the cover of bedsheets and a blanket. It had always been quick, over before she’d really begun to enjoy herself. There’d been no… anticipation.

  There was that word again.

  She could feel it winding through her, like a creeping vine slowly consuming her. Breaking her down. And while she perhaps should have been nervous, there wasn’t even a hint of it anywhere. She wanted this. Wanted him. Wanted the pleasure she’d been denied for far too long.

  “Talk to me,” he said, cupping her face. “You’ve gone quiet.”

  “Isn’t that part of the anticipation?”

  His cock pressed against her inner thigh as he kissed her. “Fast learner.”

  A second later, the sound of foil tearing broke through their heavy breathing, and Sophia watched him roll the condom down his length.

  “We’ll go slow, okay?” His palm cupped her face, and she kissed his hand.

  “No.” She reached out to touch him, her fingers skating over the swollen head of his cock. “I don’t want you to hold back.”

  “What do you want, Sophia? Tell me.”

  His eyes were like black holes, sucking her down. Hypnotizing her. “I want you to treat me like a wife.”

  Groaning, he eased her back against the bed and used his strong thighs to part her softer ones. The contrast of his warm, bronzed skin against her pale skin tinted pink from the sun sucked the breath out of her lungs. He was so beautiful. So confident and capable and strong.

  Yet there was a gentleness to him, a level of care that she wasn’t used to.

  Closing her eyes, she breathed in the surroundings. The scent of sex, the unique male aroma mingling with cologne and rain. She wanted to absorb it all.