Chapter 21 Sinful Strangers (1)

• The lounge was a haze of dim lights and sultry jazz, the kind of place where secrets lingered in the shadows and desires slipped free from their cages. Elena leaned against the bar, her martini glass cool against her lips, the sharp bite of gin cutting through the boredom that had settled over her like a second skin. At 32, she was a vision—brunette locks cascading over her shoulders, her body sculpted from late-night gym sessions that left her toned and tight in all the right places. The black dress she wore hugged her like a lover, clinging to her curves, the fabric stretching over her firm ass and perky tits, daring anyone to look away. She was restless, her hazel eyes scanning the room for something—or someone—to ignite the spark she craved.
• That’s when she saw him.
• Julian sat alone at a small table across the lounge, a glass of whiskey dangling from his fingers like an afterthought. At 38, he carried himself with the kind of confidence that didn’t need to shout—a chiseled jaw sharp enough to cut glass, broad shoulders stretching the fabric of his dark shirt, and eyes that burned with a quiet intensity. He was watching her, his gaze a slow, deliberate undressing that started at her stiletto-clad feet and lingered on the smooth expanse of her thighs. Elena felt it like a physical touch, a jolt of heat surging straight to her core, her pussy clenching involuntarily under the weight of his stare. She shifted her weight, letting the hem of her dress ride up just a fraction, enough to flash the lace edge of her panties—black, sheer, and already damp with anticipation. His lips quirked into a smirk, and she knew she’d hooked him.