DON ALEXANDRO
The door to my room swung open with a loud crash as Rocco Vincent stormed in.
My head snapped toward him, one brow lifting as I lazily raised a hand, silently stopping the guard who was about to intercept him.
I wasn’t in a hurry. I let the last waves of pleasure roll through me as the woman beneath my robe slowly withdrew her mouth from me, her lips and tongue still grazing my skin.
A sharp moan slipped from my mouth as the release hit, brief but intense.
Eyes half-lidded, I exhaled and leaned back as she slid out from under my robe, her mouth wet-looking and her smile wicked.
Rocco was standing just a few feet away, his jaw clenched, fists tighter than his words could form. But his expression said it all—rage, disgust, probably urgency.
He finally spoke, "You’re busy
