by Jade White
She had begun to relax again when they arrived at the penthouse suite that Nicholas led her to. Cynthia had to admit that if she was being taken advantage of, she couldn’t ask for nicer surroundings.
“Have a seat,” Nicholas suggested. “I can mix you a drink if you want.”
“I could use a glass of wine,” Cynthia said, sitting down uneasily.
She watched Nicholas move to a small, well-stocked bar attached to a darkened kitchen. He’s definitely hot, she thought as he examined the bottles in front of him. Thinking over their conversation at dinner, Cynthia realized that the wealthy heir had done an excellent job putting her at ease, as well; he was charming, funny, and clever. If it weren’t for the fact that money is changing hands over this, I’d totally go for him.
Some instinct on Nicholas’ part prompted him to bring her a full glass of dark, intriguing-looking red wine; he’d poured himself a glass as well. Nicholas sat down a few feet away from Cynthia, as if he understood completely that she needed space.
“I want you to understand something, Cynthia,” Nick said slowly, taking a sip of his wine and setting his glass down on the low, marble-topped coffee table. He turned to meet her gaze. “If you don’t feel comfortable having sex with me tonight, I am not going to force you. In fact, if you want out of the contract at any point—if you feel uncomfortable, or just decide that it’s not what you want anymore—I will thank you for your effort at conceiving, close out our arrangement, and you won’t ever have to hear from me again.”
Something relaxed inside of Cynthia. That particular clause had in fact been in the contract; but something about hearing him say it made her feel better. Nicholas reached out and took her free hand in his.
“I want you to always feel as comfortable as possible.”
“As comfortable as possible while having sex three times a week?” Cynthia smiled slightly, and took a sip of her wine both from politeness and to steady her nerves. The red was sweet, velvety on her tongue, and faintly spicy; she took another sip out of pure enjoyment. “I’ve never done anything like this before,” she told Nicholas, feeling the rising heat of a blush in her cheeks.
“I haven’t either,” Nicholas admitted. “Until I met you earlier today, the idea of having someone bear a child for me was completely theoretical.” He leaned in slightly closer, and Cynthia caught the scent of spices and musk—a smell she hadn’t quite noticed before, but which made the slight, feeble heat in her begin to stir more strongly. “I don’t really know how to have just—transactional sex.” Nicholas licked his lips; something about his tongue was oddly intriguing to Cynthia, though she couldn’t quite say why. “There’s also the fact that the scientists say that when a woman orgasms, she’s more likely to conceive.”
“Really? I didn’t know that,” Cynthia said breathlessly.
Her throat felt dry, her heart was beating faster, but it wasn’t fear that was thrumming through her nervous system; it was desire. Throughout their dinner together, Cynthia had ignored the little buzz of heat simmering in her veins, telling herself that Nicholas Trocaire was either a sleaze who wanted to get into her pants and then ditch her in the morning, or that he was genuinely interested in talking business with her. The reality—the proposition he had made—was something she hadn’t been prepared for in the slightest.
“It’s a fact,” Nicholas said.
He brought her hand up to his face, and Cynthia thought he was going to make the cavalier move of kissing the back of it—something cheesy, but endearing. Instead, he turned her hand over, exposing her palm, and brushed his lips against her inner wrist. The feather-light caress crackled through Cynthia’s body, a jolt that seemed to lead straight to her pussy. Nicholas looked up, meeting her gaze.
“You smell fucking amazing; you know that, right?” Cynthia shook her head breathlessly.
“I do?” Nicholas nodded, kissing her inner wrist more firmly. His lips slid against her skin, coming to a stop at the crook of her elbow.
“I could devour you,” he told her, his voice a low growl in her ears. “I could spend all night with my head between your legs, and feel like I was getting the better end of the deal.”
He pressed an absentminded kiss to her shoulder, and the next thing Cynthia knew, Nicholas’ lips brushed against hers lightly, a teasing touch that made her shiver even as he deepened it. Cynthia melted against him, the heat rising and rising as Nicholas began to touch her all over, his hands trailing along the curves of her body, exploring. She came out of her lust-fogged stupor long enough to wrap her arms around his broad, muscled shoulders, mapping the planes and ridges of his back.
Nicholas’ tongue swiped against her lips, and Cynthia started slightly at the roughness of it; but her surprise barely lasted an instant. She opened her mouth to the probing, wriggling muscle, moaning against Nicholas’ lips as he pressed his body against hers, his hands tightening at her waist, at her hips, moving up to cup her breasts through her clothes. Cynthia barely noticed as he began to unbutton her blouse, as Nicholas began to maneuver her onto her back, pulling her legs up onto the couch, covering her body with his own. The weight of his body against hers was so satisfying; Cynthia hadn’t had sex with anyone for so long that she could barely remember her last tryst, but she thought that Nicholas was already better than any of her previous partners. Heat rolled off of his body, sinking into her as he peeled her blouse off, tossing it aside.
Cynthia broke away from Nicholas’ lips, dragging her mouth along the column of his throat as she touched him everywhere. The scent of his musk intensified—but it was a pleasant smell, cut through with a spicy, warm undertone that Cynthia could almost taste. She pressed her body against his, kissing and nipping at Nicholas’ neck, nuzzling against the hot, fragrant skin in some instinct she couldn’t quite explain. Nicholas groaned, the sound vibrating in his throat, in his chest, like a purr. He lifted her up, his hands moving to her back to unhook the clasp of her bra.
Cynthia wriggled free of the constricting garment, falling to the couch. Nick’s green-hazel eyes almost seemed to glow—golden tints coming out in them that Cynthia hadn’t noticed before—as he looked down at her with unabashed hunger.
“God, Cynthia…” his voice was ragged, hoarse with desire. “It is going to be really, really easy to keep going until you get pregnant.” He grinned at her and for an instant, Cynthia thought his teeth looked oddly sharp; but when Nicholas buried his face against her breasts, nuzzling and kissing and licking every inch of the firm mounds of flesh, she forgot the impression completely.
Nicholas claimed each of her nipples in turn with his lips and tongue, sucking and licking until Cynthia cried out with pleasure, twisting and writhing underneath him. The surprising roughness of his tongue felt strangely amazing against the tender nubs her nipples hardened into, sending jittery crackles of pleasure through Cynthia’s body, heating her up to a fever pitch in a matter of moments. She could feel the warm wetness between her legs, and knew that she’d already soaked through her panties. In what seemed like no time at all, Nicholas had taken her from apprehension to full-fledged lust, rendering her unable to think about anything but how much she wanted more. Her hips moved with a mind of their own, bucking and twisting. She could feel the hard ridge of his cock pressing against her, rubbing her through their clothes.
Bit by bit, their clothes fell away, and Cynthia panted and gasped as Nicholas trailed his mouth down her body slowly, kissing and nipping and nibbling her sensitive skin. He lingered at her hips, looking up into her half-lidded eyes, his hands kneading her thighs eagerly.
“How do you feel, Cynthia?” She shook her head—not to tell him to stop, but to try and clear it of the lust fogging her brain, making it impossible to speak.
“I feel like if you don’t do whatever it is you’re planning on doing next, I’m going to kill you and break our contract,” she said breathlessly.
Nicholas chuckled lowly, kissing the curve of her hip. There was a rumbling sound, humming again
st her skin—it felt as though Nicholas was purring as he nuzzled her lightly. The next moment, he spread her legs wide, and Cynthia cried out in pleasure as he buried his face against her soaking wet folds, immediately sucking and licking, making good on his comments about wanting to devour her. Cynthia arched up off of the couch, grabbing senselessly at Nicholas’ head and shoulders as her hips moved in reaction to his attentions. He teased her relentlessly, his sandpapery tongue lingering along her inner labia, barely missing her clit until Cynthia was sure that he was intentionally torturing her—that she might actually die if he didn’t touch her pleasure center.
When she couldn’t stand the suspense any longer, Nicholas’ lips moved up to the bead of nerves, sucking lightly. Cynthia moaned out again and again as his tongue flickered against her clit, sending jolts of sensation through her body, crackling electric pleasure lighting up her nervous system. Her fingers tangled in his thick, soft hair, pulling in the tangles, but Nicholas didn’t seem to mind at all. In fact he moaned against her sensitive flesh, nuzzling deeper against her folds, sucking and licking with even more enthusiasm. Cynthia lost herself in the pleasure washing through her, moaning out loud, words tumbling out of her lips meaninglessly: praise, pleas, exclamations. She could have admitted to the most humiliating secrets of her entire life in that moment and she wouldn’t have noticed or cared.
Cynthia felt the tension mounting inside of her, like a knot that tightened bit by bit as Nicholas switched between worshipping her pleasure center and lapping up her fluids, probing her with his rough tongue and sucking her between his soft lips. All at once—seemingly with no warning at all—the tension unraveled inside of her. Wave after wave of pleasure rocked her, making Cynthia cry out again and again as it crackled through her body, driving out any ability to think at all. She pitched and writhed and arched, and Nicholas continued his worship, sucking and licking, riding through her orgasm. Her climax intensified—so much so that Cynthia was almost afraid—growing more and more powerful as she began to almost scream from the sensations coursing through her.
As the spasms began to abate, Nicholas slowed, and Cynthia groaned with relief as he gradually relented, letting her sag against the couch, barely flicking his tongue up and down along her soaking wet folds. He seemed to be lapping her fluids up more out of personal gratification rather than any attempt to turn her on or get her off. As Cynthia shivered and shuddered in the aftershocks of her intense orgasm, Nicholas slowly pulled back, kissing the bead of nerves lightly and giving her inner labia one final, lingering lick before he broke away from her body, panting.
“I have to have you,” Nicholas murmured, his voice a low, heavy growl. “I can give you a few minutes, but god—Cynthia—I have to feel you wrapped around me.”
“Oh—okay,” Cynthia said, nodding breathlessly. “Just—just let me catch my breath,” she said, an almost begging note in her voice that she could hear.
“I can wait for you,” Nicholas told her, bringing his lips down onto hers.
He kissed her lightly—surprisingly gentle—and his hands moved over her body, soothing the tremors that seemed impossible for Cynthia to suppress. She realized that she was shaking as if she were freezing. She had never felt such intense pleasure in her life. Slowly, slowly she came back to herself. Cynthia began kissing Nicholas’ neck and shoulder idly, letting her hands explore his muscular back, his strong, broad chest.
Gradually, as she recovered, Cynthia felt herself becoming turned on once more. Nicholas kissed her everywhere, teasing and tickling and caressing her with his hands, his mouth. The heat built up from somewhere deep down between Cynthia’s hips, her inner muscles tightening as she began to want more and more. She could feel the heat and hardness of Nicholas’ cock pressing against her, rubbing against her thighs, barely brushing her drenched labia as they moved together on the couch.
“Are you ready for me?” Nick’s voice was breathless, hoarse with control.
“Yes,” Cynthia said, nodding helplessly.
She wasn’t sure what she was even agreeing to. She only knew that she wanted him—that she had to have more of the pleasure he had already given her. Cynthia moaned as Nicholas guided the tip of his cock against her slick folds, rubbing up and down along her labia slowly in a teasing caress.
He thrust into her slowly, filling her up inch by inch, and Cynthia found herself shivering again as her body yielded to him, her muscles flexing and relaxing around the hot, hard cock that almost seemed to stretch her. She groaned, her hands tightening on his shoulders, fingernails digging into his skin.
“Fuck—god, it’s been too long,” she said, gasping and panting.
“I don’t think so,” Nick said, holding himself up to look down into her eyes. “I think you were just—holding out—until you could have something this good.”
Cynthia laughed breathlessly, pushing her hips down to meet his. For a moment, as their hips pressed flush together, neither of them moved. Cynthia could feel Nicholas’ cock twitching inside of her, the tip rubbing against her inner walls. And then he began to move on top of her, sliding out slightly and then pushing deeper inside, and Cynthia fell into his rhythm from pure instinct, moving her hips in counterpoint to his thrusts.
They explored each other’s bodies, kissing and touching each other everywhere, and Cynthia once more lost herself in the bone-deep pleasure that Nicholas gave her, moaning out again and again as his heat and hardness filled her up, pushing deeper and deeper inside of her, rubbing along her inner walls. She wasn’t sure, but she thought he was the largest man she had ever taken; whether it was true or not, Cynthia couldn’t remember ever feeling so deliciously full, almost stretched to the limit of what her body could handle, as they both began to pick up the pace of their movements.
The tension mounted and mounted inside of her, driving Cynthia out of her mind with the certainty that if she didn’t reach orgasm, she might in fact die; she moved faster and faster, flexing and twisting her hips, writhing underneath Nicholas as he worshipped her breasts with his mouth one moment and then kissed her with desperate hunger the next. She had no idea how much time passed, but in what felt like no more than a few heartbeats, Cynthia felt her whole body tighten, her muscles tensing as she remained, for just an instant, on the very edge of orgasm before tumbling down once more. She cried out and moaned as waves of pleasure washed through her again and again, barely aware of anything other than the sensations crackling through her nerves, driving out thought.
Nicholas rode through her orgasm, thrusting deep inside of her, holding back for as long as he could but just as Cynthia’s spasms began to abate, she heard the roaring shout of pleasure that left Nicholas’ throat. She felt his cock twitching erratically inside of her, and then the flood of sticky-slick heat that gushed deep along her inner walls. They moved together a few moments more, both of them locked in their pleasure, trapped in the sensations coursing through them. Finally, when neither of them could continue any longer, they both sagged on the couch, tangling in each other’s limbs. Cynthia’s mind was so fogged with pleasure, so thoroughly steeped in satisfaction, that as she slipped into a deep and contented doze, she didn’t even think to wonder about the contract they had; she didn’t even think about the possibility of becoming pregnant, or getting paid to carry a child. Everything went quiet, and warmth like honey flowed through her.
*
As Nick strode up to the front door of the townhouse he had rented for Cynthia, he was torn between apprehension and arousal. He and Cynthia had been seeing each other three times a week for over a month; she hadn’t become pregnant in her first cycle, but Nick was hopeful. Just the thought of her—the honey-spice scent of her pheromones, deepening with the heady vanilla-musk of her arousal, the sight of her bright green eyes half-lidded with desire and pleasure, the feeling of her body wrapped around him—was enough to make him almost immediately hard. But before he had left the office to meet with the woman who would carry his child, Nick had received a chilling p
hone call.
Three weeks before, after he had already sent the first payment to Cynthia’s bank account, and they’d established a schedule for their “appointments,” as Cynthia called them, his mother had called to inform him that the investigation was going forward into his father’s death. The police had had enough evidence to treat it as a murder—instead of a simple accidental death.
“More importantly,” his mother had said after delivering that news, “they think that you are definitely a target.”
“What makes them think that?” Nick had only left Cynthia’s apartment an hour before; he had managed to get home and take a shower, and had been on the point of going into the office when his phone rang.
“The suspect list,” his mother said simply. “They’re after a couple of shifters—the scent marks that the detective found indicated one of our kind. Also…someone came forward, saying that they know who it was.”
“So why haven’t they gotten a name?”
“Apparently there are legal issues. They don’t want to be an accessory to the—the homicide.” Nick had heard the catch in his mother’s voice. “And since the witness is a were-lion…”
“They want to keep things as quiet as possible,” Nick had concluded. “So why do they think whoever it was is after me, too?”
“The were-lion that came forward said that the goal was to take over your father’s businesses. Whoever did this to Alex would definitely want you out of the way too.”
“That would—that would make sense,” Nick had admitted.
By the time he had finished the conversation with his mother, he had made up his mind. He had to keep Cynthia close to him, to have a better chance to protect her and any possible child of his that she might carry. He hadn’t told her the real reason, he had instead pointed out the convenience that her living closer to him would bring with it.
Now, three weeks later, Nick had gotten a phone call that made him want to have Cynthia even closer to him. He had been busy taking care of a final few details before leaving the office for the evening when his desk phone rang. Typically, as the CEO and owner of the business empire, his calls were so well screened that the only way anyone could get through to him without dealing his receptionist first was to be a well-known acquaintance, a business partner of some kind.
