DAVIE

The elevator takes me to the last floor of my suite, I preferred coming here, my house in Venice was quiet, had many rooms and enough people to fill it, yet it lacked the feel of being called a home.

I owned this hotel. I worked. Furthermore, I fucked women here and I killed people here.

I would have considered going to my private bar to drink and look for a lady from women who frequented this hotel to sleep with, and it would have taken less than an hour to get them to my suite but I had no time for small talk or to use the art of seduction on any lady this night. Generally, like tonight, all I would have wanted to do was fuck someone.

Uncomplicated no strings attached, fucking was my way of unwinding my feelings, and the women I did it with always understood the rule of the game. But, I was meant to be sleeping and keeping myself for my bride, wasn't I?

I was rather tired, frustrated, and wanted to hook up. I at least wanted to make the marriage seem halfway believable. Get an heir to continue my line and my name. But it didn't seem to be what my other half down there wanted to do right now.

Sighing, I find my way into my suite and enclosed in the darkness, with just a little light from the floor-to-ceiling windows. Walking toward the window, seeing people with different agendas, and some rushing home to meet with family and loved ones. I smirk, my eyes closed.

I felt my cell vibrating in my pocket, taking it out, looking at the screen and seeing a text from Romeo, my best buddy, wondering if something happened after the meeting.

Not only that, but I've sent you a wedding gift, amigo. Enjoy!

I frowned at the screen, wondering what he could possibly mean by that. There's a knock at the door, walking over, I open the door to my gift.

Tall, blonde, long legs, big tits and the tiniest dress I had ever seen. Smiling at her,

"Come in", as I held the door wider.

She struts into the room in her high heels. Mr. Romeo thought you might be lonely up here on your own, she purred. 'So, he's sent me to take care of you.'

How thoughtful of him, I said as I closed the door behind us. 'And you are?'

She looked at me, her lips pulled into a pout. Amelia. With a flutter of her eyelashes.

'Amelia?' I couldn't help but laugh at the irony. If I couldn't have a spoiled New York princess tonight, then a different type of princess would have to do.

Sitting in the armchair with a glass of whiskey n my hand as Amelia slipped off her skimpy dress and stood before me wearing only a pink G-string.

She had a decent body. Tanned skin and long blonde hair. Tall and thin and massive tits which were obviously fake. I preferred the real deal, but I wasn't going to object. She was fuckable enough, and that was all that mattered to me.

'What can I do for you tonight, Mr. Montanelli ?' she purred as she walked closer to me.

Take off the panties and come here, I commanded.

She obeyed immediately. That was the satisfying thing about paying for sex, or in this case, having my buddy pay for it for me. The women did exactly what they were asked to do, when they were asked to do it. There were no expectations. No complaints.

Amelia slipped her G-string over her hips and down her long legs until it laid in a tiny pool at her feet. She stepped out of it and walked towards me, stopping directly in front of me. She was so close that I could smell her cream and it made my cock throb.

Turn around and bend over so I can see what my buddy is paying for, I grow, and she obeys, bending over until her waxed pussy is only inches from my face.

'Do you like what you see, Mr. Montanelli ?' she asked in a low, husky voice.

I ignored her question. I didn't give compliments. 'It looks like you're already dripping wet for me, Amelia? Do you enjoy being paid to let men fuck you?'

'I enjoy being paid to let you fuck me, Sir. In fact, I'd let you do me for free,' she giggled.

I wrapped my hand around my cock and squeezed it through my trousers. It was rock hard. Why wouldn't it be? I had a naked woman bending over in front of me with her pussy in my face.

'What are you waiting for? From what I've heard, you're not usually so shy,' she purred.

What was I waiting for? Why was I sitting looking at her instead of burying my cock, my tongue, or my fingers inside her?

'Get dressed, Amelia,' I said with a sigh as I downed my whiskey.

She stood up and turned around, blinking at me. 'Have I done something wrong, Mr. Montanelli?' she asked, her voice trembling as though she were fighting back the tears.

'No.' I growled. 'I'm just not in the mood.'

'Well, I could get you in the mood?' she offered. 'I don't mind whatever you want to do?'

I shook my head. What the fuck was wrong with me? My cock was throbbing so hard it was painful, but I couldn't bring myself to touch her.

'Just get dressed and go.'

She nodded as she picked up her clothes from the floor and dressed quickly. Then a few seconds later, she was gone.

I sat back in my chair and sighed. It was my wedding night, and I was sitting alone in a hotel room while my wife was on the other side of the city. Not that I thought I'd care about that fact.

I didn't particularly like Olivia varda . She was certainly fuckable, with her long curly hair, her thick thighs and curvy ass, but she was far too much like hard work. Not to mention, she was a spoiled brat.

So, why was I thinking about her instead of fucking Amelia? A woman who knew exactly what I wanted and how I wanted it.

Despite Olivia being my wife, only in name, for some inexplicable reason, I couldn't bring myself to cheat on her on our wedding night.

I throw my empty glass at the wall and watch as it scatters to pieces on the floor.

Damn, my fucking upbringing!

And fuck Olivia Varda!