Her Every Fantasy

by Zara Cox

  He gave a jerky nod. ‘Please.’

  I allowed myself a smile at his gruff tone. I reached down and caressed the erection tenting his lounge pants for a sizzling few minutes. Until his jaw was clenched tight and his breathing was harsh. Then I nodded to the sleek leather recliner that faced the glass window overlooking the water. ‘Make yourself comfortable there. I’ll be right back.’

  I walked away, aware his eyes were devouring my backside and legs.

  In the dressing room, I threw off the T-shirt with a little pang, realising how much I loved wearing something of his next to my skin.

  You’re getting way too sentimental.

  Impatient with my turbulent emotions, I grabbed the leather-strapped outfit and carefully stepped into it. I’d tried this outfit in its various forms of conception for critique purposes. Wearing it now, knowing it was for the sole purpose of sexual exploration and femininity sent a thrill through my body long before I stepped in front of the mirror and saw the effect.

  The straps accentuated specific sections of my body. Shoulders. Breasts. Hips. Pussy. While the golden rings holding the straps together lifted the outfit from dark decadence to boldly sexy.

  So far it’d held its place in the top three of my bestsellers and as I turned around and carefully adjusted the straps on the back, I felt another punch of pride.

  Pride took a backseat to arousal as I settled the shiny black conical nipple shields in place and fluffed my hair. It was a little wild from the shower but I didn’t care. It was going to get even messier before I was done with Bryce.

  I stopped in the bedroom long enough to slip my heels back on, grab a couple of condoms and slide one beneath each of the straps on my hips before heading out.

  He was laid out on the recliner in a glorious vision of casual sexiness, one leg raised and one hand tucked behind his head, his other hand lightly caressing his stomach as he stared out of the window.

  Seeing my slow, steady approach, his gaze flicked my way.

  And he jackknifed upright. ‘Jesus Christ,’ he breathed hoarsely.

  Hazel eyes burned everywhere they touched on my body. Combined with my own furnace-hot excitement, I was surprised I didn’t spontaneously combust. ‘Do you like your outfit, Bryce?’ I asked, stopping six feet from him to pose, one hip cocked with a hand braced on my waist.

  The hands dangling between his thighs bunched into tight fists. ‘It’s sensational. But only because it’s wrapped around you. Can you come over here, rosebud? I want to see it up close.’

  ‘Please,’ I teased.

  His face tightened further with arousal. ‘Please.’

  I slowly closed the distance between us until I towered over him. His lips parted as his gaze dropped to stare at the single strap covering my sex.

  After an age, his gaze shifted to linger on the condoms tucked into the hip straps. Slowly his fingers rose to caress the one on my left hip. ‘Why is that so hot?’

  I smiled. ‘Might be something to do with the idea that you might get lucky more than once before midnight?’

  His gaze rose to lock on my breasts. He swallowed. ‘Or could be that I get to have you, at all, rosebud.’

  The words held enough gravity to make my heart thud heavily before settling into a rhythm that raised my panic level.

  ‘Bryce.’

  He visibly shook off whatever was eating him up. His fingers stopped caressing and grabbed one hip to propel me to him, his lips reverently placing a kiss just beneath my navel.

  I sucked in a breath, the sensation of his mouth on me still sizzling and overwhelming enough to weaken my knees. I allowed it for a minute before pulling out of his grasp.

  ‘You’ve only seen the front. Care to see the back?’

  When he blew out a breath and nodded, I stepped back and turned around, watching his expression over my shoulder.

  His eyes were a smouldering collision of colour as they conducted a sizzling north to south scrutiny. ‘Fuck, Savvie. You’re so damned beautiful.’

  The words, wrenched from the bottom of his soul, made my eyes prickle. Unable to fully take a breath, I turned. ‘You make me feel beautiful, Bryce.’

  His gaze caught mine and I saw a flash of something in there that wrecked me. It was a mixture of silent admonition and regret.

  Before I could probe it further, it was gone and he was back to devouring me with his eyes. ‘I don’t know where to look...where to touch you first.’

  I placed a hand on his chest and pushed him back. When he was fully reclined, I swung one heeled foot over the other side of the recliner and stood over him. He shuddered as he stared up at me.

  Leaning over, I ran a finger from his jaw, to his throat, to the centre of his chest, to the top of his lounge pants. ‘That’s okay because I’m calling the shots tonight. To start with... I’m going to kiss you everywhere...’

  He squeezed his eyes shut for a second before they blazed on me again. ‘Yes. Please.’

  The plea was too strong to resist. I avoided his mouth mainly to save it for last, but trailed my lips where my finger had been, revelling in his erratic breathing when I flicked my tongue over one flat nipple and nipped the tight skin above his navel. Still dropping hot kisses on his skin, I dipped my fingers beneath his waistband and pushed his trousers down. Impatiently, he lifted himself free and kicked them off, leaving him gloriously naked.

  And very, very aroused. The moment I straddled him, demanding hands grabbed. Bryce caressed me everywhere, his movements growing more urgent the more I played with him.

  ‘Kiss me, Savvie. Please,’ he begged gruffly when I bypassed his lips one too many times.

  ‘Be patient,’ I teased, tearing one condom open to sheathe his steely length, then drew my wet heat over him once, twice, then lifted myself long enough to fist his cock, caress him from root to tip.

  His teeth gritted. ‘You’re driving me insane. Fuck me. God, just fuck me.’ His nails dug into my hips and hot, imploring eyes met mine. ‘Tell me you can do that without taking this off?’

  ‘I can fuck you without taking this thing off,’ I confirmed, reaching behind me to undo a little stud that held the strap between my thighs. At his satisfied grunt, I dragged the tip of his cock to my pussy, then, eyes locked on him, I sank down, impaling myself on him.

  His hoarse shout was music to my ears. It turned my insides liquid, fuelled the exquisite roll of my hips as I set the pace, the conditioning I’d put my body through making my movements smooth and deep as I rode him. Listened to hot, sexy curses fall from his lips as bliss overwhelmed us both.

  ‘Do you want me to kiss you now, Bryce?’ I breathed against his lips.

  ‘I’ll die if you don’t,’ he pleaded.

  And because I wanted to do exactly that, I gripped his face and kissed him deep and hard, not once losing my rhythm. We both groaned, the double pleasure of tongues stroking and his cock sliding in and out of me almost too magnificent to endure.

  A keening sound rumbled from his chest and he tore his mouth from mine. ‘Savvie, I can’t hold on much longer,’ he hissed, one hand leaving my hip to tug off the nipple pasties before he sucked one nipple into his mouth.

  Teeth and tongue tortured the nub, dragging me to the same peak where he hovered. Our pelvises ground together. Coordination took a back seat and sweat filmed our bodies. My scream was right behind his loud shout as the bough broke and our bodies twisted and convulsed through a climax so intense, all I could do was collapse onto him in a boneless heap and attempt not to pass out.

  Attempt not to think about what I would do without this. Without Bryce.

  What my future would look like a month from now.

  Because I had a wild feeling this breathlessness I was experiencing now would be ten times worse. And it would have nothing to do with sex and everything to do with the man I wanted more than I wanted my
next breath.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Savvie

  THE WEEK PASSED in a blur of setting up the store, meetings with stylists, photographers and event coordinators to fine-tune the schedule for the pre-launch, launch and after-party.

  Then on Thursday came the part I liked the least—magazine and media interviews to generate buzz about the launch and collection. Even before the second one started, my hackles were well and truly ruffled. It was all I could do not to snap when the inevitable questions about Dan and my divorce came up. Instead I dug deep and delivered the usual rehearsed answers:

  Yes, it was a difficult time but it’s behind me now. My work is my only focus.

  No, we don’t keep in touch and he has no input on my collection.

  No, there’s no significant other in my life. Work is my only focus.

  The pang that accompanied that last pat statement dug deeper with every delivery, the confirmation that this thing with Bryce was assuming a larger meaning in my life harder to dismiss.

  Since Sunday, I’d seen him every day, although our interactions had been short. He had his own hands full getting The Sylph ready for the official opening. But he’d stopped by just as I was wrapping up last night. And things had got hot and heavy in the merchandising room. Although part of me was grateful for the distraction of work, the chasm opening up inside me warned the crash would be that much harder to bear.

  A throat cleared and I realised the interviewer had asked another question.

  Focus, Savvie.

  Thankfully, she switched from personal to the subject I loved. My collection. Ending the interview on a high, I smiled when my phone buzzed with a text from Bryce.

  How’s your day going?

  Now that I’m done with interviews...brilliantly. Hey, I have a question.

  Shoot.

  Is there a dress code for tomorrow night?

  Pointless question. You’d look magnificent in a shroud. A special gift headed your way. You’ll need to sign for it but I recommend opening it in private.

  I couldn’t help the grin that split my face.

  Okay. But, seriously, I need a direction about tomorrow.

  One of those flared dresses I can slide my hand under when no one’s looking will work for me.

  Aha, so we’re going to be in company?

  Yes. And that’s all you’re getting.

  Bet I can make you give me more...

  You can always get me to give you more, rosebud. Maybe that’s my problem.

  My bright mood plummeted and my fingers shook as I read his words. Something was happening here. He was wearing his hurt openly. Was this his version of personal therapy to rid himself of me or was it something else?

  The disturbing question planted itself firmly in my brain, growing deeper, insidious roots over the next twenty-four hours.

  By the time my driver dropped me off at the address Bryce had texted me in Keong Saik, an upcoming area bursting with diverse culture, I was swimming in an ocean of uncertainty, with dangerous riptides licking at my toes.

  The interior of the building was long and large, rectangular, painted a blinding white, with a skylight that would fill the gallery with light during the day.

  I spotted Bryce almost immediately. Easily the tallest man there, he was further illuminated under one of the three chandeliers hanging from the double-storeyed ceiling.

  A glass of champagne in hand, he was in deep conversation with a man I vaguely recognised. I took my eyes off him long enough to accept a glass from a passing waiter, my nerves prickling as eyes swivelled my way.

  Although I was used to it by now, the initial insanity that came with fame had never truly faded, especially in a world where people weren’t ashamed to express their unsolicited views on your life. Despite my hardened skin, I tended to brace myself whenever I was in a gathering such as this.

  I sipped my champagne, took a moment or two to ground myself just as Bryce’s head swung towards me. His smile was easy but a little reserved, as it’d been all week. It triggered a domino effect of joy and trepidation inside me. To prevent him reading my face, I turned towards the first painting.

  Recognition dawned just as Bryce arrived beside me. ‘Is this place what I think it is?’

  ‘If you think it’s the venue hosting the private viewing for Wu Cheong’s next collection, you would be right.’

  ‘Oh, my God. How did you get an invite?’

  He leaned down and kissed me before answering, ‘I have my ways. Would you like to meet him?’

  My eyes goggled. ‘Yes!’

  The man himself, dressed in a stylish burgundy Singaporean collarless tunic and matching trousers, appeared as if by magic.

  In his early thirties, he’d made a name for himself in the last five years and skyrocketed to international acclaim with a rabid following.

  ‘Miss Knight, welcome to my show.’ He bowed at the waist.

  ‘Mr Cheong, it’s such an honour to meet you. I’m a great admirer of your work.’

  ‘Thank you. I understand we’re going to be neighbours?’

  I blinked. ‘We are?’

  He glanced at Bryce before his dark eyes returned to me. ‘This place is growing too small for such events. My agent tells me turning down invitations ups my exclusivity but I’m not sure I believe him.’

  ‘I talked him into taking the space in the floor above yours at The Sylph for his new gallery,’ Bryce said.

  ‘I’m not sure that’s such a good idea for me. How on earth will I get any work done with such masterpieces to gaze at all day.’

  ‘I think that statement can be applied to me too.’ His steady regard deepened with male appreciation.

  My face heated up and I plastered on a wider smile to hide my slight chagrin.

  Beside me, I saw Bryce lose his, his eyes narrowing on my face.

  ‘We’ll let you mingle, Wu,’ he rasped with a light clasp of the man’s shoulder. ‘Let’s catch up later.’

  With another bow, the painter melted into the crowd. I glanced up at Bryce. His expression hadn’t changed but his regard was a little fiercer, more contemplative than before. I wasn’t exactly sure why a shiver lit down my spine.

  ‘Your present arrived,’ I said, more to dilute the tension than anything else.

  His lids grew a touch heavy, a sign I was beginning to learn meant he was turned on. ‘Did you bring it with you?’

  The expensive-looking butt plug made of solid sterling silver wrapped in velvet cloth had arrived just as I was finishing up for the day. Just like everything to do with Bryce lately, there was the bittersweet mingled with the excitement of experiencing this fantasy. A signal of an end date I wasn’t prepared for.

  My fingers curled tighter around my box clutch. ‘Maybe.’

  A predatory little smile curved his lips.

  ‘Don’t get too cocky. Remember, I dictate where and when.’

  ‘I haven’t forgotten,’ he said, then leaned closer so we wouldn’t be overheard and slid one hand around my waist. ‘It occurred to me that with how...tight you are, your arse would be even tighter, rosebud. This might be a rather enjoyable way to lead into the main event.’

  I couldn’t help myself. I moaned.

  He gave a low, sexy laugh. ‘Does that turn you on?’

  ‘No more than you’re turned on just by talking about it. I can feel your excitement.’ I brushed the hardening bulge behind his fly with my belly.

  This time his laugh was strained. ‘Touché.’ He stepped back with visible regret. ‘Come on, let’s go see your surprise.’

  Our progress was slow. Several people stopped Bryce to congratulate him on his building while I signed a few autographs and posed for pictures with a few guests. Although Bryce remained amiable, his smile was a little tight around the edges.

  ‘Eve
rything okay?’ I asked when the nearest guest strolled away.

  His eyes grew a touch wary. ‘Any reason why it shouldn’t be?’

  ‘You seem...tense. Is it the opening?’

  His lips flattened for a moment. ‘It just feels...off that I’m finishing what we started without Gideon and Damian.’

  My heart lurched and I couldn’t help the wild hope that blossomed inside me. ‘You miss your family. You miss sharing your achievements with someone. It’s natural, Bryce.’

  A frown twitched across his face. ‘Not sure those types of feelings are natural for me, rosebud.’

  ‘Why not?’ I challenged. ‘You’re not a robot, Bryce.’

  He shrugged. ‘Some would argue with that.’

  ‘Who?’

  He shook his head. ‘Doesn’t matter.’ He strolled a short distance away and stopped before a large painting. It was the kind that needed its own place above a mantelpiece in a grand drawing room. In its own castle.

  He pulled me close, dropped a kiss on my temple. ‘Surprise,’ he murmured in my ear.

  Eyes widening, I glanced from him to the painting. At first glance it seemed simple—a crystalline drop of water suspended over a lily pad. But on closer examination, within the drop were a hundred tiny faces of men, women and children of diverse races, each wearing raw, naked expressions. It was breathtaking. ‘What do you mean?’

  He nodded at the painting. ‘It’s yours. My present to you for the launch.’

  My jaw sagged for several seconds before I caught myself. ‘I can’t accept this, Bryce.’

  He seemed genuinely puzzled. ‘Why not?’

  ‘It’s too expensive.’

  He frowned. ‘So this is about money?’

  I opened my mouth and closed it again, unsure how to object without giving myself away. ‘I’ll buy it from you.’

  A muscle jerked in his jaw. ‘No.’

  ‘Then you can loan it to me. Just for the launch, then I’ll return it.’

  His eyes narrowed. ‘What’s going on here, rosebud?’

  ‘“You can always get me to give you more”? And maybe that’s your “problem”? What did you mean by that?’ I asked.