2

1

Balto

I sat at the bar with a full glass of scotch in front of me. Quiet conversations from the other tables hardly reached my ears because people kept their private business to themselves. It was almost midnight on a Wednesday, so all the honest and hardworking people were in bed asleep. Anyone drinking at this hour was a criminal.

Myself included.

I stared into the amber liquid that dulled the headache at the back of my skull. Booze was the cure to all illnesses. It killed pain, depression, and horrible memories. It gave men a reason to keep living when there was nothing else to live for. We looked forward to the next glass before we even finished the previous one.

Myself included.

I could drink at the Underground with my men or I could drink in the privacy of my luxurious home, but I chose to come here because it was my favorite spot. It was quiet, but not too quiet. It was lonely, but not too lonely.

I’d been too preoccupied with my drink to notice the woman who joined me at the bar. She sat perpendicular to me and toward the far edge. She faced a different wall, but her side profile was easily visible in the dim lighting. A martini rested in her hand, along with a pick holding two green olives. She stirred her glass then took a drink.

My scotch was forgotten now that my eyes were hypnotized by the beautiful woman drinking gin like water. Her lips were painted crimson red with lipstick, and the color smeared against the glass the second her plump lips came into contact with it. She had jet-black hair that was in loose curls around her face. It was long, stretching past her shoulders with a distinct shine that made it appear soft. Thick lashes sat just above and below her brilliant green eyes. The contours of her face were the most interesting, simply because her proportions were abnormally perfect. With high cheekbones, thick lips, and a feminine jawline that contrasted against her slender neck, she was a fucking beauty. Her olive skin was the perfect match for that black dress. The slender straps sat on her shoulders, keeping her tits pushed together with noticeable cleavage. Beautiful women like that didn’t sit inside bars like this, unless they were a prostitute.

But she was far too beautiful to be a whore.

I wished she were a whore. I’d pay any price to fuck her in the alleyway behind the bar.

She lifted her glass to her lips and took a drink.

That was when I noticed the enormous rock on her left hand. A single, sparkly diamond that was almost too expensive to wear. I knew diamonds well, and I could tell that particular diamond was flawless. A ring like that would cost millions—at least. So she had a rich husband who wanted the entire world to know she was taken.

Message received.

I was a man with no morals. I broke every single rule in the book, and there was no line I was afraid to cross. Vows meant nothing to me, and I’d bedded married women before. It wasn’t my problem if their husbands didn’t satisfy them. It wasn’t my problem that they preferred me for the night over the man who put that ring on their finger. I didn’t think less of them for wanting something different since monogamy was unrealistic and cruel. But I wouldn’t go out of my way to hit on a married woman—even one as beautiful as her.

I finished my glass then asked the bartender for another. When I looked up, I spotted the woman looking at me. Her green eyes were even more beautiful when they were focused on me. Like two jewels in a treasure chest, they shone brighter than the wedding ring on her finger. She swirled the liquid in her glass then brought the cocktail pick to her lips so she could suck one of the olives into her mouth. She chewed it, keeping her gaze on me, and then took another sip.

Was that for my benefit?

She continued to sit there alone, sexy as fuck, and her eyes kept moving in my direction. They drifted across my face, my shoulders, and my muscular chest. Sometimes she looked away, but her gaze always came back to me.

I took that as an invitation.

I grabbed my drink and moved into the stool beside her, smelling her the second I got close. Her perfume was potent, and if it were mixed with her sweat, it would probably be the most intoxicating smell on the planet. Now that I had a better view of her, I could see her crossed legs stretch out from under her short dress. Her sculpted calves led to tight thighs. She wore sky-high heels, and her waist was so slender, it was surprising how big her rack was.

My cock was so hard it wanted to burst through my zipper.

I got a better look at her face now that I was this close to her, and I found her to be even more alluring. The dim lighting made her more hypnotic, but she was definitely stunning. Even with the lights turned all the way up, there wouldn’t be a single flaw on this gorgeous woman. As any other man would, I pictured her on her back, her legs spread wide, my cock ramming her deep and hard while I watched her tits shake.

I drank from my glass as I studied her features, unable to believe a woman like this was real. I’d been with beautiful women before, all over the world. Sometimes I paid for sex, and sometimes I got lucky. But none of them had her special quality, a quality that made her seem unreal.

She held my gaze without the slightest hint of being flustered. She sat with her back perfectly straight and stirred her glass as she looked at me, just as confident as I was. She didn’t fill the silence with unnecessary conversation.

I spoke first. “What’s a beautiful woman like you doing in a place like this? Dressed like that?”

“Dressed like what, exactly?” She held her drink as her gaze became subtly threatening, like she wouldn’t refrain from punching me in the balls if I said something she didn’t like.

“Like you’re trying to torture every man who looks at you—including me.”

“I’ve always been a bit of a sadist.” She drank from her glass until it was empty, then finished off the last olive.

What I wouldn’t give to be that olive.

“I’m meeting someone.” She motioned for the bartender to make her another drink.

“Your husband?”

“No.” The corner of her mouth rose in a smile as if the suggestion were ridiculous.

“A lover?”

“No.”

“Me?” I asked, hoping the suggestion was right.

“You wish,” she said with a chuckle.

“You were the one eye-fucking me. And let me say, I’ve been eye-fucked a lot in my life—but never that intensely.”

When the bartender handed her the fresh drink, she took a quick sip then turned back to me. “Well, you’re pretty eye-fuckable.” She set her glass down and looked at me again, not the least bit ashamed at what she’d said.

I’d been with a lot of women. Talked with a lot of women. But I’d never had a more interesting conversation. “How about just fuckable?” I lived a few blocks from here. We could walk to my place, get sweaty in my sheets, and then she could go back to her wealthy husband.

She rested her fingers on the stem of the glass, her nails painted black like the color of her dress. Everything about her was sexy, from the warm color of her skin to the shape of her fingernails. “As you noticed, I’m married.”

“But not happily married.”

“What makes you say that?”

I looked her over, seeing the dullness in her eyes. A woman like that wouldn’t be out alone if she had someone decent waiting for her. Maybe she married the guy for money. Maybe she was only a trophy wife to him. Maybe it was all just bullshit. “Everything.”

She turned her gaze back to her drink and stirred it again. “No, I’m not happily married.”

“Then come home with me.” I didn’t even ask for her name, but I didn’t see the point. One night of passion with a stranger didn’t require a name. We could get lost in each other and not think about the following morning. She could forget about her worthless husband, and I could forget about all the bullshit going on in my life.

“It’s tempting, but I can’t.” She stopped stirring her drink then turned back to me, showing the same level of confidence as before. There was a hint of sadness in her eyes, like it pained her to turn down the offer. “You’re too beautiful to die.”

“And who would kill me?”

“My husband.”

It didn’t matter who her husband was. I wasn’t the least bit scared of some asshole with a thick wallet. I was the most notorious criminal in this city. He’d be so terrified that he would watch me fuck his wife. “I’ll take my chances.”

“My husband is a very powerful man.”

“As am I.” I scooted to the edge of the stool so I could get closer to her, so my knee touched hers. My right hand moved to her thigh, my fingertips slightly underneath the hem of her dress on her thigh. Her skin was so smooth, so soft. My hand ached to inch farther, to approach the apex of her thighs and channel my fingers into her wet cunt. I would get her nice and ready before I could sink deep inside her with ease.

She didn’t push my fingers away. In fact, she took a deep breath like my touch brought her to life. It invigorated her, sent warmth to her cold extremities. Her husband probably couldn’t elicit this same response from her even if he tried. He was probably some authoritative asshole who bought her things instead of giving her love.

“It’s a shame.” My fingers squeezed her thigh gently. “A gorgeous woman like you should be thoroughly satisfied every night before going to bed—and not by her own hand. Let me be of service to you.”