by C. C. Gibbs
“No thanks. I don’t have your patrician tastes.”
He smiled. “It’s healthy. Does that mitigate your sense of affront?”
“Since that”—she pointed at his rampant dick and grinned—“seems to be particularly healthy, and I want it, consider me completely respectful of your food choices.”
He laughed. “So that’s what keeps you in line.”
“Hey.”
He shrugged, beyond contention, the two quick drinks mellowing his mood. “Relax, pussycat. Finish eating and he’s all yours.”
As the plane suddenly began to lift, Rafe quickly grabbed the half-drunk smoothie and his bottle, stretched his leg out to stabilize Nicole in the center of the bed, and smiled. “Thanks for coming along. You’re my escape from reality.”
She smiled back. “Anytime. Or should I be honest and say try to leave me behind and see what happens.”
He chuckled. “You know for all our arguing, you’re calming as hell. I don’t have to wonder what you’re thinking or planning, what you want from me. You don’t have a manipulative bone in your body.”
“What’s the point?”
He didn’t answer for a fraction of a second, the point crystal clear to the hundreds of women before her: money, sex, a princely life style. “Thanks,” he said, simply. “And once we stop climbing, I’ll show you how grateful I am.”
“One, one thousand, two, one thousand, three—”
He laughed. “So we better reach thirty thousand feet soon?” Leaning over, he hit a button on the bedside table with his elbow. “Hey, Davey, kick ass to level out.”
“Roger that. Hang on.”
Rafe hit the button again and smiled. “It won’t be long now, pussycat. Put in your order.”
“Jesus, you’re a bona fide plutocrat.”
“And you’re the Princess of the Universe. We make a good pair.”
When the plane leveled out, Rafe rose from the bed, collected the plates and glasses, carried them into the adjoining room, set them on the table, and on his return, locked the doors behind him. “Just in case,” he said with a small smile.
The soft innuendo in his words shouldn’t trigger such an intense reaction. Although honestly, that together with him standing there looking like some Greek god would make any girl pant. His big, tall, broad-shouldered body was sleek and hard, uber-toned, his flamboyant, vividly colored erection ready to rock, the showy, engorged head sending a jolt of hot, wild need spiraling downward to flare through her sex. “Stand there for a second,” she whispered.
He didn’t.
“Hey, I’m putting in my order. You said.”
The little shake in her voice and her pouty bottom lip were powerful incentives to his libido, perhaps a reason too for politesse. Coming to a stop, he thought he’d have to lick that pretty, pink lip to begin with, then see if the agitation in her voice meant she was already wet for him. “You first, then me, okay? We’ll take turns. Hey,” he said with a grin. “My face is up here.”
Her gaze came up. “So?”
He fought a smile; fuck if he didn’t like her all edgy and needy. “So I thought you were going to tell me about your life in San Francisco.”
“Later.” She flopped back on the bed, held her hands up, and wiggled her fingers.
He did laugh that time as he moved toward the bed. “Ever hear of foreplay, pussycat?”
“That must be when you’re sliding your dick inside me. Hurry.”
She made the mistake of snapping her fingers. He skidded to a stop. “Seriously?”
She blinked. “What?” The throbbing deep inside her was intense, ravenous, a major distraction.
Reaching the bed in two strides, he leaned over, pushed her legs open, and tapped her clit sharply.
Her eyes flared wide as she sucked in a breath, although with the tiny little explosions lingering in the aftermath of Rafe’s electrifying touch surging through her like molten star bursts, it was impossible to take offense. “Did you say something?” she breathed.
“You snapped your fingers at me. You do that a lot with the guys you’re fucking?”
“I’m sorry.” She could feel her heart beat pulse through her aching clit, quivering desire slide up her throbbing pussy. “Did I do that?”
His lashes lowered faintly and his voice took on an edge. “Have you?”
Her gaze was focused on his rampant dick, her brain was pretty much on the same target, but the little twitch of impatience in his voice broke through her sensual haze. “Whatever you think I did, I didn’t, okay? Or if I did I’m sorry.” She looked up and smiled just a little. “I’ve apologized more to you than anyone—ever. Does that help?”
He slowly exhaled, nodded, then sat down on the bed and touched her cheek with his fingertips. “It’s always more complicated with you. Raw, urgent. It freaks me out, that’s all.” He smiled and his voice softened. “So first, how about we work on your idea of foreplay, then we’ll practice mine.”
He was, she thought, beautiful beyond belief. Reaching up, she took his face in her hands and drew him down.
Leaning forward, he wondered how life suddenly could change so every kiss became incalculably meaningful. He’d never done much kissing. It was too personal or maybe too clichéd for the games he’d played. And now strangely he felt like a poet, wanting to leave a record to the world of each, tender, passionate, heart-stopping kiss.
She kissed him sweetly, lightly, brushing his lower lip with the tip of her tongue.
He angled his head, meeting the fullness of her mouth with the barest whisper of pressure.
Then she gave a low groan, slid her fingers through his slicked-back hair, hauled him closer, and shoved her tongue into his mouth—forcing the pace.
And in case he hadn’t noticed, she hissed, “Hurry, hurry.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said, half-smiling, thinking maybe soul mates wasn’t just an empty phrase. In a smooth, lithe ripple of biceps muscles and upper body strength, he swung between her legs, positioned his cock in the slick crease of her pussy, and pushed in smoothly. She was tight. He was big. A perfect fit when it came to flame-hot sensation.
He glided into her lush heat slowly, deliberately, her body yielding by exquisite degrees until he was fully inside and she was gasping softly.
And die-of-pleasure’ bliss was torching their brains.
Then he slid his hands under her ass, dragged her hard into his stiff cock, felt the shudder slide up her spine, and, arching his back, whispered, “Open your legs wider. Wider.” Flexing his powerful thighs, he plunged forward, drove in hilt deep, and firmly lodged, murmured, velvety and low, “Feel that?”
She moaned long and low as pleasure flooded her pussy, curled her toes, set every nerve in her body alight. She even thought about answering him for a brief lucid moment before he gently rocked from side to side and bliss engulfed her and she purred instead.
Best of times, he thought. He was going to fuck her until he couldn’t move; that’s how good it was.
She felt him begin to withdraw and whimpered. But the slow, compelling pressure of his stiff dick on her G-spot added an instant dimension of complete adoration to her mind-set and, trembling, she arched up to preserve the delirium. “Oh God, oh God, oh GOD…” It was half-cry, half-sigh and, unwilling to relinquish the sweet-as-candy enchantment, she ran her hands down his back and pressed down hard at the base of his spine to hold him in place. “Don’t move, don’t— Hey!”
“No stopping now…pussycat,” he whispered, “when you’re all nice and wet.” And easily breaking her grasp, he began moving inside her slowly, smooth as silk, penetrating her glossy heat in long, satisfying strokes, withdrawing languidly, building the pleasure in a leisurely thrust and withdrawal—or, aware of Nicole’s impatience, semi-leisurely. Feeling like he always did when submerged in her soft, warm sex—insatiable.
She whimpered, the feel of him over her, in her, filling her, delirium bombarding her senses, the tension running through her body
, hot and brilliant, coloring her world beautiful.
“You my girl?” His voice was low and gravelly against her ear as he forced his cock more deeply into her pussy.
He received a ragged groan for his answer and smiled. He liked when she was overwhelmed, liked how wet she got for him, how she trembled for him; how she was always hair-trigger ready.
How he could push her over the edge and she him with her cunt clenching him so tightly the friction was reaching maximum overload. He bit her neck softly, whispered, “Ready? Say yes.”
“Yes, yes…yes, yes, yes,” she panted in a try-and-stop-me frantic little rush.
She was and always had been his favorite wet dream. And she needed him as much as he needed her.
Sweet.
Adjusting his hands on her bottom for better leverage, he gently eased her closer; she gasped, his disreputable libido took note and his erection swelled in response. The current tight fit got tighter, the acute sense of fullness intensified, leaving them both teetering on the brink for a tumultuous moment before the shocking pleasure hit them full-on. Raw and wondrous.
Chasing more of that wild, Richter-scale bliss, Rafe pushed into the hottest pussy in the universe a riveting distance more and heard Nicole’s soft, feverish moan, felt his own seething rush of pleasure. Then, because she was easily persuaded and he was good at persuading, or maybe because they were both on fire, he pressed in just a little deeper to that reckless point of no return.
Nicole’s scream exploded as her orgasm blasted off.
His climax exploded more quietly but with equal fierceness.
And they both came and came and came in a high-voltage, pulsating, breath-stealing synchronicity.
No surprise—the plane ride back to Split turned into an unapologetic interlude of hot sex and hotter orgasms. Nicole had what Rafe wanted and vice versa, even if at times, the subtleties differed. But when it came to obsession, they were in perfect accord.
And for a few brief hours, as Rafe had hoped, he forgot the outside world.
Chapter 14
They didn’t go back to the castle tower on their return to the island but took up residence in the palazzo.
Henny and Basil were expected soon, Carlos said. And Webster wanted Rafe to call him. “Good news, I think,” Carlos added, standing in the doorway leading out to the terrace.
“We could use some,” Rafe said. “If you could shift some of the operations into the east wing while we’re here it would be more convenient. I’ll come over with Henny and Basil after they arrive. And let’s all do dinner tonight. Just give me a head count of those coming in time for Teresa to put a menu together. I’m going to give Nicole a quick tour of the house, then I’ll call Webster.”
“Hugo?” Carlos asked, cryptically.
“It went well.”
Carlos noticed Nicole’s sharp glance at Rafe and wondered how much he’d told her. But he just said, “Good. Glad that’s done. I’ll see you in a few hours.”
Rafe took Nicole on a brief walkthrough of the two-story palazzo. “So you can find me if you wake up and I’m not around,” he said. “Our schedule is getting busy.”
Getting busy? But she only smiled and said, “Thanks. I’ll try not to bother you.”
“That would be a problem.” A slow smile curved his lips. “Since I’m shacked up with you for a reason.”
There was a warmth in his eyes that wasn’t teasing alone, that made her heart do a little butterfly flutter. “Okay, then I’ll bother the hell out of you.”
“There you go, gettin’ with the program.” He gave a slow nod, the teasing gone from his gaze, a moody seriousness in his canted brows. Then he seemed to catch himself and a quick grin flashed across his face. “So we good now? Find me whenever you want?”
“Yup.” Only one answer was allowed; she knew that. But seriously, love sucked. If Rafe wasn’t in the midst of some major battle, skirmish, whatever it was, she would have ignored all the complications of his playboy life and told him how she felt. I love you. I’ve never loved anyone before. Now what are you going to do about it? Instead, she zipped her lip and followed him with a modicum of awe through his island home.
The airy, sumptuous palazzo was a variation on a Palladian design with two large wings, a central rotunda, and several large reception rooms on the main floor. The first floor east wing contained a dozen rooms, while Rafe’s suite in the west wing consisted of a palatial salon, a modest-sized sitting room, two large bedrooms, a study, an office, and two small bathrooms, one in malachite sumptuous enough for Cleopatra.
“I am, as always,” she said, smiling at him as the tour came to an end in his light-filled sitting room, “impressed with your princely lifestyle.”
He shrugged. “I just like the island. The rest came with it.”
“I’ll warn you now—if you come surfing don’t expect any palaces.”
“When I come surfing, pussycat, I won’t be looking for anything but you in a nice big bed.”
“I’ll see what I can do.” But she felt a moment of giddiness that he’d said when so emphatically.
“You don’t have to do anything but give me your address. I’ll take care of all the rest.” He grinned. “I might even find a palace with a big bed for you.”
“Now for a moment of sanity in this dream scenario,” she said with a little twitch of her nose. “You might have to meet my parents. My dad especially has a thing about uber-rich people.”
“Does that include your uncle?”
She did a little sideways waggle of her hand. “He likes Dominic, but he likes him more because my mom adores her baby brother.”
“Why don’t I pick you up in a Prius? Jeans, T-shirt, something off the rack.”
“There you go.” She grinned. “Rich and smart.”
His cell phone rang, saving him from a conversation that would only prove more difficult if it continued. Because he didn’t know what tomorrow would bring, let alone a future that included surfing with Nicole. Pulling out his phone from his shorts pocket, he glanced at the display and grimaced. “Sorry, business. Okay if I leave you on your own for an hour or so?”
Nicole nodded. “Course.” She winked. “I acquiesce to you in all things.”
He did a soft growl deep in his throat. “Fucking tempting.” Then he sucked in a breath and walked away.
“Getting close?” he said into the phone, his voice all business as he made for the main staircase.
“At the landing pad,” Basil answered. “I brought one of my cousins to help out. And Henny’s already complaining that Teresa won’t take orders from him. You can referee that fight.”
“Happy to. I’ll be right down.”
Punching in Webster’s number, he went down the wide marble staircase in running leaps and was crossing the entrance hall when Webster answered. “Hey,” Rafe said. “Carlos said you called.”
“Yeah. Bao-Yu’s here. With the child.”
“Great. And?” Rafe shoved the door open.
“We have to find her. She showed up on facial recognition software at the mall. The city has twenty thousand surveillance cameras in public spaces. Makes my job easier.”
“She’s not hiding?” Turning left, Rafe moved down the shaded loggia.
“Doesn’t look like it.”
“That’s strange, right?”
“Unexpected certainly. Either she’s naïve to the point of stupidity or she wants to be found. I’ve seen some of her artwork. I wouldn’t bet on stupid.”
“She has to know Zou’s enemies are dangerous,” Rafe pointed out. “Not us particularly, but she doesn’t know that.”
“Gina and I’ll figure it out. We have to find her first. I’m going over CCTV surveillance feeds now in all the most likely areas: the mall, of course, downtown, especially in the gallery sector. Gina and I are checking out the galleries tomorrow. There’s a possibility Bao-Yu’s here because she’s familiar with the city’s art scene, not because Zou sent for her. Gina just crashed b
ut I’ll be up all night in case you have any questions.”
“Not a question, but a heads-up,” Rafe noted, walking out of the shade into the sunny garden. “Gina can be outspoken.”
“I know. Everything’s fine though. She’s good at what she does—the kind of partner who won’t get me killed.”
“Just don’t cross her. Seriously.” Gina had killed her former partner/lover when he’d tried to set her up to take a fall for him. A shot in the head, close range.
“I heard. Not a problem. We already decided this was strictly business.”
Rafe laughed, waving at his guests waiting on the palm lined landing pad at the border of the garden. “So she checked you out even after I’d warned her off?”
“I’m guessing that’s her style.”
“True. Look, tell Gina thanks from me. And thank you for finding Bao-Yu again in Brisbane. Keep me posted on your progress. The sooner we get to Zou’s mistress, the sooner we can put this problem of ours to rest.”
“Got it. Once I know something, I’ll be in touch.”
When Rafe reached the landing pad, Davey was already lifting off to ferry another group of men from Split to the island. Gora was sending reinforcements and more of Dominic’s and Max’s security men were waiting for Davey at the Split airport. Carlos’s colleagues from around the world had been arriving for the past few days.
Basil introduced his cousin Sasha; their mothers were sisters, he explained. Rafe knew Basil spent summer holidays at his mother’s dacha near Saint Petersburg so he’d heard of the myriad cousins. “Sasha’s offered to help,” Basil said. “He has a doctorate in IT from the Gorkovskij Institute. He’s does tech searches without a warrant.”
“Perfect. Appreciate you coming,” Rafe said, shaking Sasha’s hand. If he wasn’t from such a wealthy, well-connected family, in that line of work, the man might have ended up with a body covered in prison tats. Big and solid, Sasha was muscled to the max, his blond hair cut so short his skull gleamed, his face hard-featured and austere. The two cousins couldn’t have been more disparate in appearance. Basil favored his father’s tall, lean frame and aristocratic profile.
