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The Woman Who Loved the Loneliest Man in the Universe
He was the world’s by day, but in secret he had always been hers.
It was another night where they met up at one of his favorite hotels. Henry Irving was in town thanks to some publicity run for his new film — a take on William Shakespeare’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream — before he’d be back off to Australia for some much-needed R&R.
His beautiful Natalia met him in the suite, just as they planned, and she wore a beautiful blue dress scattered with beading that looked like diamonds in a midnight sky. He had picked out the dress just for her; he admired how the fabric settled along her curves and accentuated her cleavage in just the right way. Henry had always been a man of taste.
But what mattered most was whether she liked it.
“Did I pick the right dress?” he asked. He ran his hand along the curve of her hip as his breath ran hot against her neck. “Would you rather I have ordered you a red one? Or a pink one? I know you love your splashes of color.”
Her breath hitched as his mouth sucked at her neck. “It’s perfect,” she said. “Blue has always been my color.”
“Good,” he said, his hand bunching in the skirt of the dress until he teased at her panties with his fingertips. “But you have to…
