He was on a f*****g date.
Just like she wanted. He'd agreed to take her to some opera house ball. You won't regret it, she'd said. Yeah, he f*****g regretted it. Everything except how damn good she looked in that golden dress that she borrowed from Claudia, with the low neckline kissing her barely-there cleavage. Already he couldn't wait to drag her home and rip off the layers of whatever the f**k her skirt was made out of and f**k her until she screamed.
He didn't know why he was there. It wasn't like him to pander to anyone, let alone the woman he was f*****g. Maybe he wanted her to shut up about how f****d up their "relationship" was. Or maybe a part of him wanted to actually try it and see what it was like. To see what she would look like, happy that he'd finally agreed to take her
