C8 8

Sex is my area of expertise after all and all men can be controlled with varying degrees of it; you just have to figure out the little tells every man has and Alexi, it seems, is a bit of a slender figure man and seems to like what he sees.

‘‘All healed and all forgotten.’’ I smile demurely and for a moment he just looks deep into my eyes as though he’s trying to pick apart my brain, checking for vulnerability or womanly trembles over my awful ordeal. He obviously doesn’t know me or my ability to bounce back up! I have had more beatings than hot dinners, and I am a very live in the moment kind of girl.

If you let your past destroy you, then you let it define you, and you may as well lie down and die.

With a past like mine, I could either choose to do just that or use every part of it to rise above everything they ever did to me and turn the things they taught me into tools instead and get the upper hand. No use crying over spilt milk and all that.

I see the flicker of challenge and stand my ground this time, not the same feeble drugged girl he met in the private room of the clinic his men dumped me in for two weeks. I am back to being me, and power play is part of my forte.

I have on my armour; makeup, killer heels and sexy dress with my newly dyed harlot red hair that is like my calling card. Jessica Rabbit was my ironic idol for my look when I made myself over at nineteen.

I guess facing the one person I hoped would save me from hell and having them throw me from their property really did wonders for my mental state back then. Thanks Daddy, coming to America to find you was totally worth it.

‘’So, I see, I wasn’t expecting stunning under that mess, and yet here you are … If you don’t mind we need to go back upstairs and see Lucie.’’ He extends a hand back towards the lift and I nod graciously, impressed that he isn’t shy with saying exactly what he thinks and high-fiving myself that he thinks I am ‘’stunning.’’

I guess I have a definite chance of bedding me a Carrero after all. It’s more appealing than going back to work the bar anyway.

My eyes scan muscular build and my underwear heats up as I get crazily close to that sexy as sin body. He has a way with women without doing very much at all; I guess he must have a hell of a lot of testosterone swirling around to get me this worked up without effort. Usually, it’s a lot of self-warming before I get ready to screw someone, and I wonder if he would be like an instant switch for me, a new experience.

Most men are not the focus of my fucking, it’s normally the act of getting off—but in this case, I think it would be the exact opposite. I most definitely would be focused on the man doing the screwing as much as the act of being screwed.

‘’By all means, you’re the boss.’’ I smile seductively. I am going for flirty overkill as his brood of black suited men linger in the hall, and he follows me back into the box I only just exited leaving them standing around like lost children.

‘‘Yes, I am. I’m sorry I didn’t come by and settle you into your role, but I had business elsewhere. I’m here now though, and we have a lot to discuss.’’ The doors close on us as he swipes his own gold card and I try to stand as close as possible without being too obvious. I learned a long time ago that you have more effect on a man when he can touch you without effort and smell you with each inhale. Lingering within his grasp and making it easy. Arse out, boobs perked, mannerisms full on seductive and the little tell-tale sex arousers are in play.

Touching my lips, my hair; my eyes straying to his mouth, so he thinks about kissing me as I glance his way, doing a mental checklist of my ‘‘play to win’’ and make him horny techniques.

I am firing on all ‘‘fuck me’’ cylinders and on the full offensive. I have waited two months for this bad boy to show up, and he is getting the full Camilla treatment on supercharge. I don’t waste time when I have my eye on a prize and this one comes with power, money and influence; a nice little puppy in my pocket to do my bidding if I can hone in on his kinks and make all his fantasies come true.

Men are like dogs—you find the treats they like, and they can be trained into obedience and loyalty. It has gotten me this far in life so far, and he is like the golden ticket to pastures new.

‘’Did you enjoy your trip?’’ I flutter my lashes with a slight subtle bite of my lip and I catch the smirk subtly cross his face as it deepens the hint of dimples that only adds to that unearthly gorgeousness he has going on. He relaxes against the wall effortlessly and seems almost amused at my full-on signals. Leaning against me so his body warmth heats my naked arm in my capped sleeved dress. He’s unusually warm-blooded even through a suit jacket and I can only hope it means he’s hot-blooded in the sack. Italians usually are. He’s picking up on signals and I’m thinking he might be an easy win. Quick, clever, and clearly well-trained in recognising come-ons. He seems game anyway and it seems he’s not so different to mere mortals after all—even if he is a formidable player.