Fuck. He had to focus on getting the bitch out of his life and his wallet.
If Rick could bury Rinna up to her neck in litigation and slander suits, he would be worth every dime of his multi-million dollar fees, and David would owe him big time.
Striding through the lobby, he headed out into the surprising afternoon heat. New York in April was wet and still shaking off the cold of winter; it almost made him miss England. Almost. Thankfully, his hired driver was waiting, the door of the black Escalade held open. He slid onto the crème-colored leather seat and nodded at the driver, Rodney.
Once the car was moving through the heavy traffic along Lexington Avenue, he laid his head back against the rest and closed his eyes. Immediately, an image of rounded cheeks, flushed pink, and bright green eyes infiltrated his mind. Plump, pink lips, slightly open, daring for the intrusion of his tongue, creamy skin on a neck begging for his mark. Tapered waist accenting wide hips…perfect for holding on to when pounding into her from behind.
Again, his cock wanted in on the action, pressing against his zipper, no doubt leaving an impression along his considerable length.
Damn! How long had it been since he’d fucked someone? Thinking back, he realized it had to have been that urology nurse three months ago, the one with the eager mouth and those two dimples right above her shapely ass. Oh yeah, he remembered that ass, and what he’d done to it. He’d met her while visiting his doctor, and her smile and curves had promised him a good time. At that point, he’d been without for nearly a month, having no desire to hook up with random women who were connected in any way to Rinna. The nurse had been good, but it wasn’t anything that demanded a repeat. He hadn’t wanted repeats with anyone since Rinna, and he was thankful for that. If he only had them once, there wasn’t the risk of them getting attached to him or his money. Which meant he could roll out of bed, brush them off, and be on his way with little to no fuss. He preferred it, and they knew going in that it was just one night. If that made him an ass, then so be it. He had no desire to be any woman’s “potential for more.” He’d tried that. It failed. End of bloody story.
Hell…his last one night was long enough ago that his cock was close to forgetting what pussy felt like. And that was a down right tragedy.
As Rodney pulled the Escalade under the canopy of the hotel Serata Incantata, David recalled what Rick had said earlier, “Enjoy your last night in New York…”
He quirked a smile. Oh, he’d enjoy it, and he knew exactly how. There was nothing he enjoyed more than sex. Anonymous sex with a beautiful woman.
After working a few hours and enjoying a delicious solo dinner in his room, he called his assistant, Derrick, giving the man the rest of the night off. He’d have plenty to deal with in the morning before their flight to Shanghai and, for what he had planned, David wouldn’t need the man’s assistance. Dressing in a pair of black slacks that molded to his leanly muscled thighs, and a tight black shirt that showed his chest and abs to perfection, he drew a tailored navy coat on over his broad shoulders. He knew how good he looked, how fuckable. He’d spent most of his life swimming, biking, rowing—keeping his body in top shape. He was used to the hungry stares and appreciative smiles, and he wasn’t ashamed of using that attraction to get what he wanted. It was easy for him to get whatever woman he wanted; he’d crook a finger, put on his most devastating smile, and drawl in his panty-melting accent. Bam! She was sucking his cock not long after that. And tonight, he just wanted to find pleasure between the thighs of a beautiful woman—the cock sucking would be an added bonus.
Too bad she won’t be there. Miss Peaches n’ Cream. Slamming that thought into the back of his mental locker, he checked the time on his Vacheron Constantin watch. It was going on 10PM, and since it was a Friday night, he knew there’d be a bevy of ladies lounging at one of the two hotel bars. The one he was interested in was the Bella Notte, the less elegant of the two bars. It was open to non-guests, which meant it would be swarming with sexy women, dressed in their best, looking to hook up with men who could afford the pricey bar drinks.
A hook up. That’s what he needed. Quick, filthy, and forgettable. He’d charm a lady, buy her a drink, engage her in easy conversation—no names, of course, and then he’d invite her up to his room. She’d know the score, she’d know it was just one night of pleasure. He would make it clear. He had to. He was already dealing with one mistake he’d fucked, he wasn’t going to allow another one.
His room, though it was the penthouse, was not on the top floor. The top floor belonged to the hotel owner, Bello DiCezzo, who was the son of the original owner who’d built the property back before Manhattan became the American hub of the nouveau riche. The hotel was considered old world elegance with its European architecture, dark wood furniture, hand painted plaster ceilings, and thick carpets—not to mention the crystal chandeliers, brass sconces, and richly upholstered benches, couches, and chairs. And because the building and business passed from generation to generation, it would remain a top property for years to come. David knew most of what there was to know about the Serata Incantata and the DiCezzo family because he made it his business to know.
