One thing I can say for certain, is that Luna Cavallone is going to be my distraction for long time to come. Perhaps fucking her out of my system is the way to go. But the scent of her perfume—candied apples—makes me rethink that plan.
Last night was something else. Feeling her tremble beneath me made every nerve in my body spark with electricity and desire. I wanted to taste her. To throw her on the bed and spread those lithe legs and see what she's hiding. I wonder briefly if she's a virgin. I open my email once more and pull up her medical records.
She's been to see a doctor a handful of times in her life. Nothing serious. Just the usual. She's had her wisdom teeth removed, and she's only just gone on the pill. The date indicates she got it just before her eighteenth birthday, which has me wondering if she’s no longer a virgin.
That thought has jealousy surging through me and I have to shake it off because even the thought of another man's hands on her fuels my rage. I’m not usually a jealous person, but right now, knowing she’s mine, I can certainly kill any other man who touches her.
"I want more background on Luna," I tell Mario quickly without looking up from my phone. "I want everything there is to know. The documents her uncle sent aren't well researched."
"I'll get on it."
"I want ex-boyfriends, any teachers that may have wanted her, I want to know everything right down to the moment she got her first period." My order is met with silence which has me looking up from the screen to find Mario's stare in the rearview mirror. "What?"
"Is someone finally coming to terms with the fact that he's about to get married?" he taunts, and if he weren't sitting in the front, I would've probably broken his nose in frustration.
"Shut up." I shove my phone away as we pull into the garage. I'm out of the car and in the elevator without waiting for him. At times, he knows me far too well. He can read me like a book.
The metal car takes me to the penthouse. The doors whoosh open, and I step out into my private hallway. Thiago and Adriano glance over at me and smile.
"What's going on?" I ask.
Thiago is the one who answers, "Nothing, Boss. Been a quiet day. She did offer us something to drink. Nice girl." My hands fist at my sides, but I swallow down the jealousy. This is fucking ridiculous.
"I trust she's still inside?"
"Yes, boss," Adriano affirms with a nod.
Ignoring them, I step into my apartment and the music hits me as the speakers blare out a song. I recognize the tune, but instead of a male singing, a woman's melodic tone greets me. Shameless by Sofia Karlberg fills the space and I wonder just what my little dancer is doing.
I make my way toward the studio which is on the second floor of the penthouse. The glass doors offer no privacy, and I lean against the door frame, my arms folded as I take in the pretty dancer pirouetting around the smooth floorboards.
She's not just a dancer listening to the music. She feels it. It's how her body moves that shows it and I can't believe this is a woman I hate. And I do. But perhaps it's because of her last name, not necessarily because of her.
Her body is encased in soft pinks, her hair loose instead of being bound tightly at the back of her head, and she stops spinning before moving into a few flowing movements which showcase her beautiful hourglass figure.
My zipper becomes tighter as I watch. The skirt she's wearing lifts showing off her pert ass and her shapely thighs as she moves. The teacher I hired, a woman, stands at the front of the room, watching Luna. She doesn't notice me at first, but when she does, her eyes widen, and I press my finger to my lips, indicating she should be quiet and not interrupt my little dancer.
For a long while, I just stand and watch Luna, mesmerized by the way she moves. Obsession. It's a sickness she's brought upon me. And I want to make her pay. Before she arrived, I was convinced hurting her would be the plan, but the effect she has on me has me wondering if it would be better to make her fall by showing her love and affection. Making sure she loves me and then breaking her, leaving her alone in the world.
But then I recall last night. When I had her pinned up with my hand, she whimpered so beautifully. It was a siren's song. My cock agrees. She doesn't want soft, gentle touches. No. My little dancer wants me to bruise that smooth porcelain skin.