Toying With Temptation In Monaco

The Monaco Grand Prix weekend was a fever dream of decadence, where the streets buzzed with the roar of engines and the city glittered under the Mediterranean moonlight. Crowds spilled onto the cobblestone streets, their laughter mingling with the hum of distant music, creating a vibrant pulse that echoed through the air. By 3 a.m., the clubs had emptied just enough to create room for more exclusivity, and I had already made my mark on the night. The billionaire—Sebastien—had been watching me all evening, his icy blue eyes filled with intrigue and something darker, hungrier.

We started the night at Louis XV-Alain Ducasse, one of Monaco’s finest restaurants. The opulent dining room was bathed in golden light, the chandeliers casting shimmering reflections onto the polished silverware. I wore a crimson silk slip dress by La Perla, the fabric clinging to my curves and brushing just above my knees. My matching lace panties, also La Perla, were hidden beneath the dress, a secret I enjoyed keeping. The subtle, woody scent of Byredo’s Super Cedar clung to my skin, blending with the warm, inviting fragrance of the restaurant’s floral arrangements.

Sebastien sat across me in a tailored navy Brioni suit and a crisp white shirt unbuttoned just enough to reveal a hint of his tanned chest. He exuded an effortless confidence, his long fingers tapping the stem of his glass as he watched me, a faint smirk playing on his lips. His eyes, sharp and assessing, flickered with something unreadable—a mix of amusement and intrigue, as though he already knew the game I was about to play but was content to let me lead for now. He smelled intoxicating, a heady mix of Tom Ford Oud Wood that lingered between us. His every movement was deliberate, his confidence radiating as he poured us each a glass of 2010 Domaine de la Romanée-Conti Montrachet, its golden hue catching the candlelight.

Our meal was exquisite—lobster ravioli in a saffron cream sauce, followed by Wagyu beef with velvety truffle jus. The flavors melted on my tongue, but the food didn’t consume my attention. It was Sebastien’s gaze, intense and unyielding, as though he were memorizing every detail of me.

As we coaxed the last drops of wine into our glasses, the sky outside deepened into a dark violet, the harbor glowing like a dream. I leaned forward, letting my silk dress strap slip off one shoulder. “Do you like games, Sebastien?” I asked, letting my voice drop to a sultry whisper.

His lips curled into a wicked smile. “Only when I win.”

I slid a small satin box across the table, savoring the flicker of curiosity in his eyes. My heart quickened, but I kept my expression composed, delighting in the power of the moment. This was more than a game—an invitation, a calculated risk that sent a thrill through me. Testing boundaries had always been my way of maintaining control and keeping my emotions at bay. If I could set the terms, I wouldn’t have to risk losing. As his hand hesitated over the box, I wondered if he could feel the electricity in the air, the silent dare woven into every deliberate movement. When he opened it, his laugh was low and dangerous. “Are you proposing?”

“I’m proposing something,” I teased, my voice coy. Inside the box was a discreet remote, sleek and black, with a single button.

“You’re giving me the remote?”

“Yes, Sebastien,” I purred, sliding my hand under the table to guide his. “I’m giving you full control. I want you to turn me on.”

His fingers brushed my bare thigh, his touch deliberate as he pressed against the lace of my panties. They were soaked, and his grin deepened. I gasped softly, careful not to draw attention from the other diners. When he pushed the button, the gentle hum began a vibration that immediately shivered through my body. The rotating beads inside me came to life, teasing my most sensitive spots.

Sebastien leaned back, watching me as I squirmed in my seat. The warm ocean breeze from the nearby open windows brushed against my skin, and I struggled to maintain composure. Every shift in the chair made the vibrations more intense, and he knew it. His eyes followed how I bit my lip, the subtle rise and fall of my chest as my breathing quickened.

“You’re so fucking beautiful when you’re holding back,” he murmured, turning the intensity up a notch. “But don’t hold back too much. I want to see you fall apart.”

I met his gaze, letting the corner of my mouth curve into a defiant smile. “You think you’re in control, Sebastien?” I whispered, leaning closer. “Show me what you’ve got left.”

His expression darkened with intrigue, his hand tightening slightly on the remote. The vibrations intensified, and I clenched the edge of the table, biting down on my lip to stifle the moan that threatened to escape. The orgasm crashed through me, wave after wave of pleasure that left me trembling. I exhaled shakily, meeting his gaze, and saw the satisfaction in his smirk.

“You make control feel impossible,” he said, his voice thick with desire.

For a moment, I let go. I didn’t care about the risks or the walls I’d built to keep my emotions at bay. In the intensity of that moment, I wasn’t calculating or cautious—I was just alive, and it terrified me.

Later, on his yacht—Black Ice—the night deepened into something darker and infinitely more intoxicating. Docked in the harbor beneath the shadow of the Prince’s Palace, the yacht was a masterpiece of luxury, its sundeck an oasis of indulgence. The jacuzzi shimmered under the moonlight, the water reflecting the city’s glittering skyline like a million watchful eyes.

Sebastien watched as I stripped, his gaze devouring every inch of me. The cool night air kissed my bare skin, and I felt powerful and invincible. But beneath that confidence was a whisper of doubt, a voice questioning how far I could push before I felt too exposed. I stepped into the bubbling water, straddling him as the heat enveloped us. His hands found my hips, pulling me closer until I could feel the hardness of his arousal against me.

“You’ve driven me mad all night,” he growled, his voice low and rough.

I leaned closer, brushing my lips against his ear. “Then let me ruin you properly.”

The sensation was overwhelming, the heat of the water amplifying every movement, every touch. I rocked my hips, finding a rhythm that was as much for my pleasure as it was for his. Sebastien’s hands gripped my waist, his fingers digging into my flesh as he thrust up to meet me.

The water churned around us, its heat mingling with the fire burning in my veins. Every thrust sent ripples through the surface, the city lights dancing in fragmented patterns. His mouth found my nipple, biting and sucking, and I cried out, my nails digging into his shoulders.

“You’re the kind of trouble I never want to escape,” he groaned, his control slipping.

I leaned back, my body arching as I ground down against him. “Don’t escape,” I whispered. “Stay, and let me show you how dangerous I can be.”

The orgasm hit me like a tidal wave, my body convulsing around him, my cries lost to the night. He followed seconds later, his release spilling into me as he groaned my name, his hands gripping me like I was the only thing keeping him grounded.

We stayed momentarily, tangled and breathless, the water stilling around us. For the first time, I saw a vulnerability in Sebastien’s eyes, as though he was afraid this moment might end and leave him hollow. His hand brushed a strand of hair from my face, his touch hesitant in a way that caught me off guard.

“You’re unforgettable, Ivy,” he said softly, his voice tinged with something unspoken.

I smiled, but it felt fragile. “And you’re dangerously close to making me believe in forever.” My words were light, but their weight lingered between us. 

Sebastien’s fingers trailed down my arm, his expression shadowed. “Forever’s a gamble I’ve never been good at. My father taught me that much.”

His words hung in the air, an unexpected truth slipping through his usual mask. For a moment, I saw the boy beneath the man, someone who had learned to hide his pain behind charm and control. It stirred something in me that I wasn’t ready to face.

The first rays of dawn painted the sky with hues of pink and gold, and the city’s lights began to dim. I traced a finger along his jaw, a question forming in my mind that I didn’t dare ask. Did I want more from him? And if I did, would I be willing to risk everything to find out?

“Monaco’s a playground,” I whispered, brushing my lips against his ear. “But tonight, I’m the fucking game.”

Sebastien chuckled, his fingers trailing lazily down my back. “You’re dangerous, Ivy.”

I smirked, already thinking of the next game we’d play. “Stick around, Sebastien. I’ve barely begun.”

xoxo Ivy