I chuckle, "What's going on? I've never seen you like this."
He shrugs. "Honestly? That woman, she's..." He grins. "There's something about her I don't want to miss out on."
"You're serious?" I ask.
He nods. "Damn serious."
I smile. "Have you found the mistletoe yet? I know Fiona's hung it up somewhere."
He smiles. "I wanted your permission first."
"My permission? You're a grown-ass man, Lex. You can do what you like."
"I figured you'd say that, but I just wanted to check."
"That go both ways?" I ask him.
His eyes narrow. "What do you mean?"
I shake my head. "Nothing. I was just–"
"Hell, I know you're going to do whatever you want, Cane O'Grady. This is your house. You're a man about town, aren't you? Always have done things just how you want."
I nod ever so slowly, wondering just how far I can take that line of reasoning without pissing this man off. Can I really do what I want? I wonder, can I take his daughter to bed without making him want to throw a punch or two, or 20? Before I can ask, Samantha walks up to both of us, and she wraps her arm around Lex's elbow.
"I was looking for you," she says.
"Lucky me," he says. "Cane here was just mentioning that there might be a bough of mistletoe hanging somewhere nearby."
Her eyes sparkle. She looks at Lex in a way that I have to describe as mesmerized. I laugh. "You two lovebirds better go before..."
I don't even finish my sentence before they're off. I shake my head. I finish my champagne and I listen as the band cues up another number. This one though, it's slow and dreamy, and if there's a Holly Jolly Christmas happening, it's right there on the dance floor.
Partners couple up with their arms wrapped around one another, and the lights go low. Fuck, this scene has been set for magic, and I admit that I wish I had an angel in my arms.
Just then, someone tugs on my elbow, whispers in my ear.
"Cane," Lucia says, "I have a gift for you."
I turn to her, and she takes my hand, drawing me down a dark hallway. I'm grateful that she helps me slip away unnoticed because I'm not exactly ready to be seen by her father, by my daughter.
"What is it?" I ask her.
"I wanted to give you your Christmas gift," she says, her voice soft, sweet. "But I wanted to go somewhere we could talk, somewhere more quiet, somewhere private."
My jaw tenses, damn, my whole body does. "How private are you looking for?"
"Completely," she says.
I look her over, head to toe. She's in hardly any clothes at all. The dress she has on, it's a slip of a thing. I swear to God, I could run the zipper down her back and it would fall to the ground, and I have a feeling there'd be nothing covered. She's ready.
But maybe I'm getting ahead of myself. I told her under no uncertain terms what kind of woman I was looking for when we were in the bathroom yesterday: a woman who would be ready to please me day and night, a woman who would be mine, obedient, willing.
She licks her lips. She's holding a candy cane and she runs her tongue up and down the length of it.
"My bedroom now," I tell her.
She nods, and she follows me up the stairs. Thankfully, the staircase is at the end of this hall, away from the ballroom, away from the crowds, and once we're inside the suite, I lock the door. The lights are already dim. There's a giant, four-poster, king-size bed in the center of the room, wrapped in oak. The entire room is rich wood, velvet, red curtains, and thick satin sheets. I wonder what she's thinking when she walks into this space, but I don't have to keep guessing for long.
"This room is a man's room," she tells me. "It looks just like you, masculine, strong, rich, capable, in charge."
"What does that make you think?" I ask her. I run a finger up her neck, drawing it over her chin, lifting her gaze to mine. Our eyes lock.
"It makes me think I really want to give you my gift now."
"What is it, the present?" I ask her.
"It's my virginity," she tells me. "I want to lose it with your extra-large candy cane." She reaches forward, and she places the palm of her hand on my big, throbbing package.
Fuck, I want this, her. Bad. "You're a virgin?" I ask her, needing her to say it again.
"Yes, Cane, your virgin, but hopefully not for long."
She unzips that dress of hers. And, just as I assumed, it falls to the floor, revealing her naked body, head to toe.
She's bare for me, wearing nothing but a pair of stilettos. Her tits, they're ripe and huge, perfect. They are big, round, and juicy, the kind of breasts you suck and play with, the kind of tits you run your cock between, the kind of tits that make you hungry for so much more.