My Dark Romeo: An Enemies-to-Lovers Romance(8)

“My, my.” His grip tightened. I felt him unfurling, the walls around him cracking just a tad. “You were made for corruption, weren’t you, Shortbread?”

Did he just call me…Shortbread?

“More.” I clawed at his suit.

I didn’t know what I was asking for. All I knew was it tasted and felt better than any dessert. And that it would be over in a few minutes. I couldn’t afford to be gone too long.

“More what?” His hand had already snaked into the slit of my dress.

“More…I don’t know. You’re the expert here.”

He gripped my ass. An index finger slipped under the elastic of my cotton panties, plowing into my butt cheek.

“Yes. Yes. That.” I broke our kiss, biting his chin, my inexperience bleeding into the encounter when I couldn’t help myself. “But…the other way. Up front.”

“Sure you want to lose your virginity to the fingers of a stranger who gave you shortbread?”

“Don’t push inside, then.” I jerked my head away, frowning at him. “Just work around…you know, the frame.”

He shoved his hand between my legs, covering my heated center with his palm, squeezing hard. “I really ought to fuck the sass out of you right here and now for that smart mouth of yours.”

It marked the first time this artful Mid-Atlantic man had used profanity, and somehow, I knew it was a rare occasion for him.

Arching my back, I plastered myself into his hand, searching for more contact. “Mmm. Yes.”

He stroked my slit through my panties, drawing an oval around it with his finger without actually touching it. Maybe it was because his touch was unhurried, fleeting, and designed to drive me wild, but my panties dampened.

Sweet torture, it was amazing.

“Does your mouth always get you into trouble?” He finished kissing me and graduated to driving me nuts by stroking my pussy, staring down at me with open irritation.

Weird man.

Very weird man.

But not weird enough for me to walk away from whatever was currently happening between us.

“Always. Momma tells me if I ran my legs as much as I ran my mouth, I’d be an Olympic—ohhh, this feels good.”

His finger dipped into my slit, curling over my clit, then retreated as quick as it came. To my horror, I heard my wetness as he parted my lips.

“Do that again.” I nuzzled into his neck, high on his scent. “But all the way.”

He groaned, followed by what I was pretty sure was a harsh whisper of what a mess.

Hey, no one was holding a gun to his head.

“Are you even having fun?” I was beginning to think he regretted the whole thing.

Even through my lusty haze, I could tell he appeared more irritated than turned on. I mean, his leg-length cock definitely told me he wasn’t suffering, but he seemed very upset about finding me attractive.

“Ecstatic.” His voice dripped sarcasm.

“You can suck on my nipples if you want. I heard it’s hot.” I reached for my corseted breast, tugging at the fabric.

His hand rushed to grasp mine and cupped my breast, keeping it clothed. “Generous of you, but I’ll pass.”

“They’re pretty nice, I swear.” I tried tugging harder to show him.

His hold tightened around my hand. “I like my things mine. Concealed from view. For my own private entertainment.”

His?

I sobered up. “Yours?”

Just then, the wall we’d leaned against collapsed.

The hostess of the ball stood on a podium, holding a remote to fireworks.

We were standing on the podium, too.

Oh, Lord.

This wasn’t a wall.

It was a curtain.

And in front of us sat the entire three-hundred-strong guest list of the ball.

All slack-jawed, wide-eyed, and judgmental as heck.

I spotted Daddy immediately.

Within nanoseconds, his olive skin turned eggshell, yet his ears grew redder and redder. A couple thoughts finally filtered into my lust-fogged brain.

First, Daddy was definitely, two-hundred percent going to cancel all my cards, from the Amex to the library one.

And finally, I realized what everyone was seeing.

Me, in the arms of a man who sure wasn’t my fiancé.

His hand shoved between my legs through my dress.

My lipstick ruined. My hair a mess…and I knew I’d given him a few visible love bites.

“Dude.” That was Frankie from the deep jaws of the crowd. “Momma’s gonna ground you till you’re forty.”

The throng erupted in excited chatter. Phone flashlights attacked my face as I stumbled backward, pushing Romeo Costa away.

He wasn’t having any of it, though. The psychopath pretended to protect me, shifting me behind him. His touch was careless and cold. An act.

What on earth was happening here?

“…ruined for every other man in this zip code…”

“…poor Madison Licht. Such a good fella…”

“…always been problematic…”

“…a scandal magnet…”

“…horrible fashion sense…”

Okay, that last one was a flat-out lie.

“D-d-daddy. It’s not what it looks like.” I tried to smooth out my Oscar de la Renta and stomped Romeo on the foot with my spiky heel, finally breaking free from his hold.