Zombie—The Cranberries (Apple Music)

4

Dante

I can’t stop thinking about Simone.

Her elegance, her beauty, her composure even when I was speeding across the city with her trapped in the back of the car . . .

I know it’s insane.

I looked up her father. He’s some fancy diplomat from Ghana who also happens to be as rich as a Pharaoh. He’s got a string of hotels from Madrid to Vienna.

My family is far from poor. But there’s a big difference between mafia money and international hotelier money. Both in volume and legitimacy.

Not to mention the fact that Simone and I met under less than ideal circumstances. I have no idea what she told the cops. I can only assume it wasn’t much, since nobody’s come banging on my door yet. Still, it would be idiotic to start poking around her neighborhood, just begging to be spotted.

Yet, three nights later, that’s exactly what I’m doing.

I found the massive Lincoln Park mansion that Solomon rented at the start of the summer. It wasn’t difficult—the thing takes up almost an entire city block when you include the grounds. It looks like the fucking Palace of Versailles. Endless expanses of white limestone and pillars and ornate balconies. Gardens all around, plenty of trees, and three separate swimming pools.

Solomon has a security staff, but they’re not exactly on high alert. It’s pretty fucking easy to sneak onto the grounds and watch the house from the outside.

I came around dinner time. I can’t see the family—I don’t know whether they’re eating in one of the interior rooms or taking their meals separately. But I can see two of the security guards dicking around in the kitchen with a maid and some girl who’s probably a personal assistant. They’re all eating sandwiches and drinking beers, oblivious to me standing right outside the window.

I don’t give a shit about any of them. There’s just one person I’m here to see.

That person comes walking out into the back garden only twenty minutes later. She’s wearing a short robe and flip-flops, her hair pulled up in a tight bun on top of her head.

Simone strips off the robe, revealing a modest one-piece swimsuit underneath. Even the dowdiest suit can’t obscure the body underneath. I think my jaw is hanging open.

Simone is a fucking goddess. I didn’t see it in the car, because she was sitting down with that puffy pink skirt all fluffed up around her. But her body is insane.

Legs a mile long. Full, natural breasts. Slim waist, flaring out into Venus-like hips. All encased in that rich, smooth skin that gleams under the strings of outdoor lights.

She raises her hands over her head, palms together, and dives into the pool like an arrow plunging down. She breaks through the water with barely a ripple, then swims underwater almost the full length of the pool. She kicks off the opposite wall, then lays on her back, stroking in the opposite direction.

Her breasts poke up above the water, nipples stiffening in the cool air. The modest suit clings to her skin, showing every curve beneath now that it’s soaked through.

My cock is so hard that I have to press down on it with my hand. It’s jammed against the zipper of my jeans, trying to rip right through the fabric.

Simone keeps swimming back and forth. When she does the breast-stroke, I see her strong, round ass cheeks turning left and right in the water, the swimsuit riding up between them. And when she does the backstroke, I see those gorgeous breasts again, the nipples perpetually hard from the cold water and the exercise.

I don’t know how long I stand there behind a Japanese Maple, watching her. It might be ten minutes or an hour.

I would have stayed for twenty years for the sight that follows. When Simone finally tires and swims to the ladder, I feel my breath catching in my throat. She pulls herself up out of the pool, water streaming down her body.

She might as well be naked for all the suit covers now. I can see every inch of those impossible curves. I can even see the indent of her navel, and the little cleft between her pussy lips.

I want her like a wolf wants a doe. I want to devour her, every last bit. My mouth is literally salivating. My cock has been throbbing so long that it’s almost gone numb.

Simone grabs her towel and starts drying off. As she rubs the towel back and forth across her back, the motion shakes her breasts, making them sway and bounce.

Little droplets sparkle on her skin and in her hair. I want to be one of those droplets, sliding down her body. I want to lick the water off of her. I want to suck her nipples through that suit.

I think the sight of her has actually driven me mad.

Because when she goes back inside the house, I watch the upper floor with wild eyes, waiting for the lights to switch on. Sure enough, after the time it takes for a person to climb the stairs and cross a hallway, I see a light flick on in the northwest corner of the house.

I should wait until it’s dark.

I shouldn’t do this at all.

But nothing short of a nuclear explosion could stop me now.

Watching out for security cameras, I run to the deck on that side of the house, and I climb up onto the railing. Jumping from there, I can just grab hold of the balcony on the next level and haul myself up.

It’s a Juliette-style balcony, tiny and connected only to the single room on the other side of double glass doors. It takes me less than a minute to pick the lock.

As I slip into the room, I see that Simone hasn’t changed out of her suit yet. She’s been distracted by a little gray cat prowling around on her rug. She’s crouched down to scratch it behind the ears.

When she straightens up again, I wrap my arm around her waist and put my other hand over her mouth.

She shrieks against my palm, the sound muffled to nothing. The little cat runs into her closet to hide.

I can feel her wet bathing suit soaking the front of my shirt. Her heart beats wildly against my forearm.

“It’s me,” I growl in her ear. “Don’t yell.”

I let go of her, cautiously. She turns around inside of my arms, looking up into my face with wide eyes.

“What are you doing here?” she whispers. “If anyone hears you—”

“They won’t hear me. If you can be quiet.”

“Are you crazy? How did you find me?”

“You told me where you lived.”

“But why did you come?”

“I had to see you again.”

We’re still pressed tight together, and I can feel her heart against my chest now, wild as a bird.

If I thought her face was beautiful before, it’s nothing to how it looks from only a few inches away. I can smell the chlorine on her skin, and that sweet scent of sandalwood beneath that I noticed the moment I got into her car.

Her lips are parted. I want to shove my tongue between them.

Fuck it—that’s why I came, isn’t it?

I grab her face between my hands, and I kiss her like I should have in the car. I kiss her like a captive, like something I’ve stolen. I force my tongue into her mouth, and I taste her sweetness. I bite her lips and I suck them hard, until they’re swollen and throbbing.

For a moment she’s stiff in my arms, shocked and probably terrified. But then she melts like chocolate, sinking into me, letting her hands cradle the back of my neck. Her fingers twine in my hair.