Sloane walks ahead of me, the skirt of her dress swaying around her.
She heads toward the stairs that lead up to the master bedroom of the suite. I watch with growing hunger as that brown leg repeatedly slips between the slit in the side.
“One bite is all I get from you? I’m disappointed,” I say.
She stops halfway up the stairs. That one leg, exposed through the slit in the dress, rests a step above her, bent and flexed to show off the lean, dark lines. It’s so stunning that it can only be for my benefit.
Tempting bait, Sloane.
My eyes rise from that leg to find her smiling down at me, knowing damn well I’ve been pierced by her hook. All she has to do is reel me in, not that I need much urging.
“So stop swimming below me and join the hunt. I’ve got plenty more bite in me than that, Magnus,” her eyes fall to the top half of my shirt that’s been ripped open, showing the red welts that have already begun to rise on my skin.
She laughs and continues up the stairs.
I’m pretty sure I actually growl as I speed to follow her, tossing the purse on the couch along the way. I take the steps two at a time and reach Sloane just as she passes the threshold. Her wrist is soon in my grasp, pulling her back toward me.
Her free hand reaches out as quick as a whip, lashing away at the rest of my shirt so that it’s ripped open all the way down to the waistband of my pants.
“Are you sure that’s how you want to play?” I ask yet again, eyeing the far more delicate fabric of her gown.
“Who’s playing? I thought we were hunting?”
“I think we’re well past hunting,” I say, backing her further into the room.
It’s dark, the only light filtering in from downstairs, casting everything in sharp contrast so that I can see the hints of her face and body, especially outlined by the lights of the city in the window beyond her.
It’s the perfect setting.
I walk her back until she’s pressed against the glass beyond. In this light, I can see how wide her eyes are, realizing that, even though the light is low, all of Monte Carlo could see us if they choose, and had a decent set of binoculars.
“Don’t you dare,” she hisses.
“What part of anything I’ve done so far makes you think I’d go easy on you?”
I grab the skirt of her dress, sliding my hand into the side slit and ripping it open to reveal her entire side from toe to well above the hip.
She gasps. “This dress cost several thousand euros.”
“I’ll buy you another.”
“Bastard,” she spits, even though I can see the gleam of excitement in her eyes.
“Just the way you like me,” I laugh, drawing back to admire my handiwork. She looks like a half unwrapped present, showing just enough to reveal what’s inside, yet making me crave more. I can see almost everything exposed below the waist, and it’s glorious.
I shrug out of my jacket and toss it on the bed, following it with my bow tie and ruined shirt.
“I believe that’s my job.”
“There’s still plenty more to work with,” I say, coming in closer with a grin on my face.
I press into her, forcing one thick thigh between her legs. My hand comes up to trace the lines of her jaw, gliding along down past her chin to her neck, trailing the collar bone until I reach the one tufted shoulder piece holding up her dress. I can feel her swallow hard underneath my palm as I slide it over her chest and underneath the edge.
Quick as a viper, I curl my fingers and grab a chunk of fabric, tugging hard. This part isn’t as flimsy as the skirt, and it takes more force to even make a tear. Once that happens, the rest follows easily.
When I’m done, the front hangs like the rags of a woman who has already been ravished, rather than one who is about to get fucked senseless against this huge picture window.
Underneath, she has on a strapless bra. It takes one finger pressed in the center to slide it down, revealing Sloane’s perfect breasts. The way her chest rises and falls in heavy breaths only draws the eye even more.
I pull back once again. Something about the ruined look of her has the adrenaline roaring through my veins like some bloodthirsty barbarian.
“Consider yourself immobilized, Sloane. Now take it off. All of it. I’m ready to eat.”
She pauses just long enough to realize it was a demand, not a request. Then, she reaches to her side and unclasps the chain belt. It falls to the floor in a series of tinkling clanks. Next comes the dress itself, or at least what’s left of it. Sloane reaches under the fallen strips of fabric to find the zipper, struggling slightly to get it going before it releases in one glide. This one is more of a hushed sigh, pooling around her ankles and leaving her in nothing but the bra that she quickly dispenses with, reaching around to unclasp it and dangle it up for my inspection before she drops it to the floor.
As though my eyes could be torn away from the picture of perfection she’s just revealed. The darkness only seems to accentuate the color of her skin rather than mask it, the highlights coming in brighter, the shadows darkening, turning her into some work of art that the eye lingers on if only to discover all its hidden secrets—secrets I plan on fully discovering within the next few minutes.
She leans back against the window, slinking one leg then the other out of the pile at her feet, kicking it out of the way, so it’s just her in those heels and all of Monte Carlo behind her.
I reach down to unbuckle
