For The Love Of A God by Rosanna Leo (ebook reader for comics .txt) 📕

She snorted. “Right. I don't really do gala fundraisers."

"Of course not.” He dropped his gaze to her Hello Kitty tunic. “Well, you'll do this one. With me. I'll pick you up at eight. Oh,” he said, wiping at her chin with his thumb, “try not to dribble anymore butterscotch on your chin."

Sweet Jesus. Her mortification was complete.

He released her face, inhaled and exhaled, and walked away. Even as he retreated, she could see the tension in his large frame, in the stiff curve of his shoulders and his clenched fists.

Seriously. What the...?

Maia's mind raced. He'd asked her out on a date. A real date, not just a quick, accidental grope. Well, he hadn't really asked her. He'd told her. In a very arrogant fashion. Like he owned her.

But she wasn't mad, as she probably should be. She was more excited than the day her father announced he would take her to the Acropolis for the first time.

Maybe this date would give her an opportunity to discover if the sparks she felt for the director were more than just fleeting pyrotechnics.

She walked into the museum, feeling suddenly lighter and heavier at the same time. And then it hit her.

Eric was the director of the whole effing museum. Director. The brass nameplate on his door said so. And she was his date.

And Friday was tomorrow.

She ran off in a panic, looking for Sheila and Dino, almost spilling the remainder of her melting sundae.

Great Poseidon's crotch! She had nothing to wear.

For the fifty-seventh time that evening, Maia fidgeted in her form-fitting, borrowed gown. As she waited for the clock to tick eight o'clock, she adjusted the flimsy fabric once again.

Thank heavens she and Sheila were basically the same size. Except in the boob department. Maia was the more blessed there—or cursed, in her opinion. As a result, she was practically spilling out of Sheila's bodice. When Dino had come over to do her makeup earlier, his eyes had popped out of his head.

"Sweetheart,” he'd purred. “Those gorgeous titties! If I didn't swing the other way, I'd have you up against the wall. Eric Lord will not be able to see straight after he claps eyes on you."

"Dino!"

"Say what you want, princess. You are a recipe for premature ejaculation, if I've ever seen one."

And despite the fact that she'd blushed at his vulgarity, she'd also felt really good.

But now he and Sheila were gone, off to ready themselves for the ball. And she was stuck waiting for Eric. Wondering if Dino hadn't been too heavy-handed with the blush, or if Sheila hadn't given her one too many spritzes of some concoction she insisted was a Calvin Klein perfume. Maia sniffed her bare arm. For someone who only wore baby powder, she worried she smelled very much like the inside of a cat house.

She wandered toward her full-length mirror and checked herself out quickly. God. A red, red dress. Hair spilling over her right eye in waves she could never hope to achieve again on her own. More eye makeup than even a New Jersey housewife should be caught dead wearing. All in all, she looked garish. A swarthy, low-rent version of Jessica Rabbit.

And yet, when Dino and Sheila had finished with their handiwork, there had been tears in their eyes. Of course. They'd known her for years and had never seen her wear anything other than comic book characters on her chest. Or dirt. Or crumbs of food.

There was a loud knock at the door. Maia's head shot up. Geez, even his knocks sounded impatient.

One last time, she looked quickly at herself in the mirror. Her look screamed, “Whore for hire!” but it would have to do. She grabbed her sequined bag and swung open the door.

Their eyes met. And they both just stared, wide-eyed.

Eric's cock shot up like one of Poseidon's dolphins, shooting toward the surface of the water. His mouth went dry. His palms were sweaty. He felt like a randy teenage boy. A mortal one, for fuck's sake!

She was breathtaking. Of course, even when she was dressed in her quirky wardrobe with no makeup she was beautiful. But this, this vision before him, was a different animal entirely.

She looked as if she'd been poured into her slinky red dress. He couldn't stop staring at the tops of her boobs. A generous portion of her chest was on display, creating some mighty delicious cleavage. It reminded him of their interrupted lovemaking session, of how perfect it felt to take her nipples into his mouth. And her tight dress looked as if it would only take a flick of his finger to send it plummeting down to her ankles. Those tasty nipples were a mere flick away.

As much as he felt insane with the need to yank her bodice down, it also seemed a shame to mar the picture before him. This was a new Maia Douglas. With her smoky dark eyes, styled hair, and those red lips, she looked like a goddess. And he'd seen a few goddesses in his time.

Only the goddesses he knew didn't generally blush so delightfully at their partners.

Maia couldn't speak, couldn't move. When she'd first met Eric, she'd known he was a total knockout. The most orgasmic man she'd ever met. How he'd ever managed to kick it up a few notches, she didn't know.

He was in a tux. A gorgeous tux draping so intimately over his muscles it looked as if it were fashioned by horny magic elves. The black silkiness of the fabric made his green eyes pop and showed up every single blond highlight on his head. Which was amazing because he'd slicked his wavy hair back with a really delicious smelling gel, so she really shouldn't be able to see his highlights, but she could ... and she was babbling, even in her own head.

It took everything in her power not to haul him into her apartment and rip his clothes off and suck the life out of him like a