He crooked a finger and she nearly danced towards him, making Staffan smile. He took the box from the bedside table and opened it.
Saffi’s jaw dropped open.
By the time she recovered, he had already crouched down and was making sure it was a perfect fit.
****
Saffi was the shyest girl in the world by the time she arrived at her father’s fundraising dinner while Staffan looked like he was the king in his. The contrast in their expressions and actions created an uproar on the web, with millions of users tweeting about what in the world could have made Staffan Aehrenthal look like he had won all the awards in the VMAs.
Seeing question after question about it, Saffi wanted to run away and hide. She so desperately hoped they would never ever guess why Staffan was strolling around like he wasn’t just Sweden’s #1 Sex God. Oh no, the way he was practically smoldering with such earthy appeal – his f**k-me hazel eyes so bright, the arrogant tilt of his head as he gazed challengingly at other people, and the way his black-and-white suit showed off his superbly muscular form to perfection---
He was the sex god.
And even his friends noticed it.
“Hello, Saffi,” Constantijin murmured gently as he kissed her cheek. There was nothing but amusement in his silver eyes as he stepped back and looked at her gravely, saying, “You’ve done something bad.”
Yanna sounded just as serious even as her own eyes twinkled when she gave Saffi a quick warm hug. “It’s true.”
“Unfortunately,” Rathe Wellesley drawled in that coldly charming duke-like voice of his, “I must agree.” He gazed at Staffan, saying mockingly, “You did the unthinkable, my dear. You made this extremely arrogant man even more arrogant.”
The breath swooshed out of Saffi as she realized that they were all just joking.
Staffan’s friends laughed at her expression of relief.
Yanna started to say something, but Constantijin quickly intercepted it with a swift, hard, but terribly sweet kiss on her lips. When he lifted his head, Yanna could only sigh. She opened her mouth, Constantijin raised a brow, and she sighed again. She looked at Staffan wryly.
Staffan understood the exchange. Yanna had been harping on him every day about clearing the air between him and Saffi, but he just wasn’t f**king ready. Constantijin knew it and he was putting his foot down about it tonight.
He nodded his thanks to Constantijin. Tonight just wasn’t a good night to talk about the past. Maybe, he acknowledged to himself, there wasn’t any good time to ever talk about it and he was beginning to be fine about that.
They entered the ballroom together, where Saffi’s parents were waiting near the entrance, personally greeting each guest. Saffi quickly embraced her parents one at a time when it was their turn. She quickly but proudly introduced Staffan’s friends one at a time as well, and the senator and his wife made small talk with the trio.
Staffan was the last in the group to greet the pair. He hid his ringless finger inside his pocket so that Pearl wouldn’t notice anything, but one look at the senator’s face and Staffan knew he hadn’t been quick enough.
The seating arrangements were pre-selected, and since Saffi was part of the host’s family, they were unable to share a table with the other Pussketeers. Instead, Staffan found the both of them seated across some of the most priggish couples he had ever met.
He wasn’t much for politics, but even he recognized the first pair as Congressman Whitley and his wife Janet, both of them Republicans for generations and so conservative that they had been campaigning to ban the use of cuss words in public. The other couple could trace their lineage all the way back to Mayfair – the kind who looked down upon nouveau riche like Staffan – even if he was easily a hundred times wealthier than they were.
“Be nice,” Saffi pleaded under her breath in Swedish.
“Of course, baby,” he said obediently and sought to deliberately charm the two couples. He didn’t pander – that would never be possible for someone as proud as Staffan was – but he knew the right buttons to push in order to keep the women flattered and prevent the men from feeling insecure in his presence.
Saffi could only listen in awe as Staffan suavely discussed religion and politics with Congressman Whitley while engaging the other couple in conversation about the various ways they could improve the returns of their trust funds.
And throughout the first and second appetizers, he had not even uttered a single ‘fuck’. Not one!
When the waiters started to serve the main course and Staffan paused for breath, Saffi turned to him. It was the opportunity he was waiting for. He slid one hand into his pocket and switched the clitoral vibrator on.
Saffi froze, her now-large eyes jerking up to meet his in utter horror. The vibrator worked silently, its steady vibration gently stimulating her clit.
“Do you have something to say, baby?” She started to speak, but Staffan pushed another button to set the vibrator to medium speed.
Saffi closed her mouth. All she could do was glare at Staffan as the vibrator buzzed even more powerfully against her clitoris, stimulating every inch of it until she had to grip her skirt tightly. She so badly wanted to spread her legs wide open, as if by doing so she could relieve the tension, but the tight-fitting form of her dress prevented her from doing so, and all Saffi could do was take deep gulping breaths.
“Are you all right, Sapphire?” Mrs. Whitley asked in concern.
Saffi managed a wan smile and then jerked when Staffan set the vibrator to high speed. She could feel the difference – easily – and it made Saffi want to scream.
Mrs. Whitley’s eyes widened in understanding and she exclaimed, “Is it your baby? You’re in your first or second trimester, aren’t you? Even if you’re done with the morning sickness, it can still come back.”
“Oh, yes,” chimed Meredith Samuels from Saffi’s right. “I was like that when I was pregnant with my first child.” She exchanged fond glances with her husband. “Remember how I had to, you know, every five minutes?”
“Yes, I remember you know.”
Even Staffan had to laugh at Carlton’s dry answer. He had been stunned to realize that the couples before him could be actually fun to be with – he just needed to give them a chance. They all needed to give themselves a chance to get past the stereotypes.
But as much fun as they were, there was nothing as fun and as f**king erotic as having Saffi crazy with need for him. She was trembling badly in her seat and her blue eyes were pleading with him. The need there spiked his and Staffan cleared his throat, saying a bit unevenly, “I think I should take her outside. She might need a breath of fresh air.”