by Jasmine Hill
“Relax,” he mumbled into her flesh. He pushed through the tight ring of muscles and pumped his finger in and out, groaning when he felt her relax and soften. “That’s it, baby,” he murmured. “Let me in.” He locked his lips on her clit and sucked while he pushed his finger in and out of her tight hole.
She gasped and shuddered and ground herself against his mouth.
“You’re close,” he muttered and nipped her little bud of nerves.
She cried out. Her juices gushed over his chin and her pussy pulsed around his tongue. She quivered on top of him, mumbling incoherently.
He turned her around so she was facing his cock, and she bent forward and took him into her mouth, swallowing his length in one gulp.
He growled into her sex and thrust his tongue deep as she bobbed up and down his dick. Her saliva coated him, and he seeped more cream, which she lapped at hungrily.
Her channel tightened around his tongue and he knew she was close. Lust coiled and clawed at the base of his spine, and his balls throbbed.
“Come with me,” he mumbled into her slickness.
She sucked him harder, slipping up and down his length in frenzied strokes. His pleasure simmered then spiked, and he thrust three fingers into her wet heat as he locked his lips around her clit.
She tensed and cried out a garbled shout around his cock. He came with her, roaring, thrusting his hips and shooting his thick, creamy load down her throat.
Chapter Ten
Bree stepped into her midnight-blue evening dress and slipped it up her body. It was simple but elegant with a low neckline, the back ending just above the curve of her butt. A fine chain at the back of the neck was the only thing stopping it from slipping off her body. The chain hung down the middle of her spine, ending in sapphire-colored beads. The dress clung to her curves, flared around her thighs and ended in an asymmetric hem. The satin felt cool and smooth against her skin. It was an excellent choice and as soon as Bree had tried it on, Nell had declared it as a triumph.
She’d styled her hair in beach waves which she’d swept to the side using an elaborate comb. Simple jewelry complemented the dress, she’d decided, just the sapphire earrings and necklace that her parents had given her for her twenty-first birthday and a fine gold bracelet.
Her eyes were dusted a smoky gray and she’d kept her lips light with a rose-pink tint. She spritzed on Coco Chanel, put her lipstick and cherry-flavored lip gloss in her clutch and grabbed her blue cashmere wrap. Finally, she slipped on her gold Jimmy Choo sandals.
She was still feeling slightly lightheaded and an airy buoyancy had taken up residence in her stomach. She shuddered as she recollected Vincent’s mouth on her, bringing her to the best orgasm she’d ever had. It’d seemed to last forever, her climax prolonged and intensified as he’d sucked the pulses from her body. She still felt the presence of his finger there, in the place she’d let no man go before. She’d been surprised at how good it had felt—different but not at all unpleasant.
She finished her glass of champagne, popped her room key into her clutch then made her way to the stairs.
Music echoed from the lower level as she descended the wide staircase. Large bows in red tulle were tied at intervals along the bannisters, little silver love hearts embroidered in the tulle glittering under the light from the chandeliers. When she reached the bottom, a black-suited waiter materialized with a tray of champagne flutes, a strawberry perched on the edge of each one. She accepted a glass and took a sip, giggling as the bubbles hit her nose. She was glad that she’d only had two glasses of the Dom that Vincent had brought to her room. She hadn’t wanted to turn up to the gala feeling tipsy and lightheaded.
“Where’s the lounge?” she asked the waiter.
He pointed to a wide doorway toward the back of the foyer then disappeared into the gathering crowd.
Bree stood a moment and admired the lavish Valentine’s Day makeover the foyer had undergone at some point that afternoon. Huge urns of flower arrangements were dotted throughout the grand entrance hall and helium-filled red, pink and silver balloons floated from love-heart-shaped supports. Round cocktail tables held platters of delicate hors d’oeuvres and chocolate-dipped strawberries. She was impressed with the style and elegance. Too often she’d seen Valentine’s Day reduced to tacky and over-the-top decorations with cheap wine and food.
She walked to the far end of the foyer where the lounge was located. It was still quite early, but already the crowd was growing. People gathered in small groups, drinking and chatting. The same string quartet as the previous evening were playing classic love songs.
She slipped into the room and looked around. She spotted Vincent immediately, leaning casually against the bar. Women flocked around him, giggling and touching him, caressing long-nailed fingers up his arm and stroking his chest and shoulders.
Bree’s hackles rose. Perhaps it was unreasonable, but a flash of red-hot jealousy shot through her. He was an attractive man, a very attractive man, and, as she knew intimately, he had a body to match his flawless face, so it stood to reason that he’d attract attention. And as everyone had established, the guests were single, so the women in the group presumed that the men were fair game.
She finished her champagne and gave her empty glass to a passing waiter. She eyed Vincent for a moment, tossing up whether to do something totally out of character and move over to one of the many men currently sending signals of interest her way. But then he turned. As if attuned to her presence, he swiveled his head in her direction and speared her with his wintry gaze. Their eyes locked for a beat, then he spun around to survey the rest of the crowd, scowling when he spotted a couple of men heading her way. Suddenly, with head-spinning speed, he was by her side, grasping her around the waist and drawing her close.
He dropped his mouth to her ear. “You look absolutely stunning,” he breathed, his breath wafting across her skin and sending her braless nipples to hard points. He nibbled her neck, eyeing her chest as her tips strained further against the soft satin of her dress.
“I love the way your breasts tell me what you like.” He blew against the shell of her ear and grunted with satisfaction as her nipples once more stretched hard and erect.
Bree inhaled sharply. She wasn’t accustomed to public displays of affection, her conservative parents having instilled in her a requirement to act with decorum at all times. She looked around to determine if anyone was watching their intimate exchange. They were. The women were looking positively vengeful and the men were scrutinizing her and Vincent with avid interest. Given the level of attention they were receiving, she supposed the Cupid pairings were optional.
“Don’t worry about them,” Vincent stated, cupping her chin and urging her to look only at him. “The men are jealous that I have the most beautiful woman in the room in my arms.”
She arched an eyebrow. “And the women? You seemed to be very occupied when I arrived.”
He chuckled. “Rest assured, my sweet Bree, I only have eyes for you.” He gazed at her hungrily. “How could I not? That dress was made for you. And it matches the blue of your eyes.”
He dropped his palm to her bare back, frowned and swept it lower down her spine until he reached the top of her dress. He urged her around so her back was to him and slipped a finger beneath the fabric. She inhaled sharply when he pressed on the base of her spine. “This dress is very low,” he murmured as he grasped her hips and tugged her back against him, the rigid heat of his cock demonstrating just how much she affected him. He bent to speak in her ear. “I’m not sure I like that all these men can see so much of you.” He nipped her lobe hard.
Bree shivered. If she’d known he was going to take such pleasure in testing her sensitive places, she would have worn a jacket. She rubbed back against his stiff cock. “And what about what you’re displaying at the moment?”
He spun her around, so she was once more facing him. “I’m not concerned about that. But if any man looks at you the wrong way, they should be c
oncerned.”
Bree stared up at him, scrutinizing the depths of his charcoal eyes, trying to determine if he was joking. The intensity in his gaze told her he was deadly serious. She wasn’t sure what to make of his declaration, but after the jealousy she’d felt at seeing him surrounded by various women, she could understand it. Whatever was happening between them was becoming serious, very quickly. It was a position she’d never been in before. She was slow to take things to an intimate level and even slower to commit to a relationship. But she felt like she’d known Vincent forever and was more comfortable with him sexually than she’d been with any other man. She even felt like she could trust him which was also unusual for her.
He pulled her closer, his hands firm on her hips. She couldn’t quite understand his incessant need to touch her, but she’d been firmly in his grasp in one way or another since she’d stepped into the lounge. She gripped his upper arms, marveling at the tight muscularity of his biceps, and gave him a reassuring smile.
He dropped a hand to the curve of her ass and gave her butt cheek a blatant squeeze. “The reason I’m manhandling you like this is to illustrate to the other men here that you’re off limits.” He paused, a frown marring his perfect features. “Tell me if I’m overstepping the mark.”
Her discomfort with PDA forgotten, she giggled. After a moment’s consideration, she surprised herself when she realized that she didn’t mind his ‘manhandling’ at all. It served a purpose as well. She didn’t know where their liaison was headed, but she did want to advertise the fact that, for the weekend at least, she was his and he was hers. She’d secretly hoped for some romantic distraction over the Valentine’s weekend and it looked like she’d been granted her wish. Why not make the most of it?
“I don’t mind at all,” she finally answered him.
“Good.” He ground his impressive erection into her belly. “Because I don’t think I’ll be able to keep my hands off you.”
A passing waiter stopped, cleared his throat and offered the tray of champagne cocktails.
Vincent took two glasses and passed one to Bree. He took her hand and urged her out of the bar area. “Let’s go and see what they’ve done to the ballroom.”
They followed the music and the crowd upstairs to the second floor. A carpet of rose petals led to the arched entrance of the ballroom, releasing a lovely floral scent as they walked. A staff member had been assigned the job of sweeping the bruised petals away and dispersing fresh ones. Two huge urns filled with a profusion of flowers stood either side of the grand entrance. Inside, the decorations were subdued but sophisticated. Crisp white damask tablecloths covered the round tables, a centerpiece of floating candles and roses on each one. Place names in elegant red script detailed the seating arrangements and more helium-filled Valentine-themed balloons bobbed discreetly around the room. And in the middle of the floor rose a grand ice sculpture of Cupid, grinning mischievously, his bow and arrow raised in readiness to pierce the heart of anyone he felt needed his assistance.
Vincent tugged her towards a table near the center of the room. “We’re here.”
Bree didn’t bother asking him how he knew where they were seated. As she’d already established, he seemed to have some sort of ‘in’ with the hosts of the event. That fact alone had made her feel more comfortable about the whole weekend. Surely, after the previous night and that afternoon, Vincent wouldn’t deliberately put her in danger.
She was pleased to see that Madison and Chantelle were at the same table. As Vincent pulled her chair out for her, the two women arrived. In a waft of competing perfume and a gaggle of excited conversation, they sat to Bree’s left.
“Oh,” Chantelle exclaimed. “I’m glad you’re on our table.” She bent her head to Bree’s ear and whispered, “Are you with that gorgeous hunk of a man?”
Bree nodded and introduced them to Vincent.
“Where has he been hiding and how did you find him first?” Chantelle asked loudly.
Before Bree could reply, Vincent answered. “I found her, actually.” He dropped his arm around the back of her chair and caressed her bare shoulder with his thumb. “I couldn’t take my eyes off her when I caught sight of her.”
Chantelle fanned her face theatrically. “He’s hot and a gentleman. You won the lottery with this one.”
“That dress is amazing, by the way,” Madison commented. “I wish I could wear something like that.” She hefted each of her breasts in her palms and threw a flirtatious look at Vincent. “Unfortunately, these puppies won’t allow me to go without a bra.”
Bree looked at Vincent, curious to see his reaction to Madison’s blatant come-on. She smiled when he wasn’t even looking at Madison, but at her.
“I happen to like what Bree has to offer in that department,” he murmured and bent his head to nuzzle her ear, his stubbled cheek abrading the erogenous zone and once again sending her nipples to high beam.
“I wish you’d stop doing that,” she muttered.
He chuckled. “I love that you respond to me in this way.”
“I’m sure that guy could get me to respond the same way. “She giggled, pointing to an attractive-looking guy at the next table.
Her smile dropped when she realized that Vincent hadn’t taken her comment as the lighthearted teasing that she’d intended it to be.
His eyes turned from light charcoal to black and he bared his teeth. She stared at his unusually sharp white incisors. A moment later, the vision was gone. Had she imagined his sudden change? She shook her head, wondering if the champagne was affecting her.
“Do you want that?” he asked, his voice ominous. “Do you want that guy? Remember what I said earlier.”
“No! For god’s sake, it was a joke.” She shrugged his arm from around her shoulder, pissed off that he would take her playful comment so seriously.
“He won’t help you here, by the way,” he murmured.
Bree shot him a look. “Who? The guy at the other table?”
“No. God.” He tightened his jaw. “And stop talking about the other guy or I might think he’s competition. And I don’t play well with others.”
Bree rolled her eyes. “Are you for real right now? I didn’t take you for the jealous type. You’re too poised and self-assured to be prone to jealousy.” She threw him an arch look. “And you have the face and body of an Adonis.”
He was silent for a moment. “When I want something, I go after it and I let nothing stand in my way. I want you, Bree. Anyone who threatens that, threatens me.”
Bree sat back in her chair, mulling over what he’d just said. He was definitely more intense than she’d first thought. But she had to be honest. If he’d said something similar to her about another woman, her first reaction would probably have been one of jealousy. She just had a different way of approaching those situations. They didn’t know each other well enough to understand the other’s flippancy.
“I appreciate your honesty.” She smiled, determined not to prolong the awkward moment. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re quite intense?”
He laughed, grasped her around the waist and pulled her towards him. “All the time.” He grew serious. “I told you, Bree, that I want every man here to know that you’re unavailable. I don’t pull any punches where that’s concerned. If it bothers you, you need to tell me now.”
She shook her head. “I can’t say that you haven’t forewarned me. “
The string quartet started to play, and she noticed that most of the tables were now full. A waiter appeared and deposited a platter of caviar-topped oysters on the table, smoke rising theatrically from the dry ice they rested on. Madison and Chantelle clapped happily at the tableau and reached in to help themselves.
Vincent picked up her entrée plate and placed a few oysters on it. Before he was able to serve himself, a waiter discreetly handed him a slip of paper. He read the note and scowled. “I have to go and do something,” he muttered, clearly displeased. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
<
br /> Three men and a woman had joined the table while they’d been deep in conversation. One of the men gave Bree a wide smile. She returned his smile and took a sip of her champagne, hoping that Vincent wasn’t about to make a big deal of it. He narrowed his eyes slightly but said nothing. He merely pushed his chair back, stood then bent to kiss her on the head. “I’ll be back soon,” he repeated, loudly enough for everyone at the table to hear. Then he was gone, slipping quickly among the tables to disappear through a discreet door at the back of the room.
Vincent checked his watch. He didn’t want to leave Bree for longer than necessary. He couldn’t ignore the way men leered at her. Given half a chance and an opportunity, they’d be on Bree in a heartbeat. It sent his vision red, but he understood it, because he felt the same way. She was incredibly sexy and beautiful. And she was a dream in that dress, her bare back, lithe muscles and elegant spine on display, just begging to be stroked. But it was more than that. It was the way she held herself, so poised and almost detached, as though nothing could touch her. She had an elusive quality that would attract a lot of men, particularly those who liked the chase. But he could deal with them. It wasn’t them he was worried about.
He stalked angrily out of the ballroom and went to see why he’d been summoned.
Chapter Eleven
“OMG,” Madison cried when Vincent was out of earshot. “That man is a god! And what’s with that broody intensity? He’s just oozing male hotness.”
Bree laughed. “He is a little intense.”
“What was the deep and meaningful about?” Chantelle asked, slurping on an oyster. “It looked pretty serious.”
Bree shrugged. “Nothing important.”
“Little Miss Secrecy.” Madison rolled her eyes.
Bree’s hackles rose. Why would she divulge to these girls the details of a private conversation? They seemed nice enough, but she wasn’t about to BFF them. “Did you catch up with Tyler and Craig?” she asked, to change the subject.
