by Noree Kahika
“Come here, Charlotte.” Although his tone was soft, there was no mistaking the carnal demand in his voice. The sound instantly triggered my arousal.
Moments before, we had entered his hotel suite, and after what could only be described as the single best night of my life—notwithstanding the day I had—I was walking on cloud nine.
Inhaling deeply in an effort to steady myself, I walked slowly toward him. My gaze never wavered from his. When I stopped several inches away, I rose one brow in silent question, despite knowing exactly what he wanted. To be honest, I wanted it too. The whole evening had virtually been a foreplay marathon and I was eager for a repeat performance of the night before.
“Turn around,” he commanded and I smirked playfully before I obeyed.
My heartbeat picked up and butterflies took flight in my belly as I did what I was told and turned, placing my back toward him. Immediately, I felt the heat of Roman’s body pressed against my back and I let out a little moan of delight. Slowly, his fingers brushed softly against the exposed skin of my shoulders before they drifted leisurely up to my neck, gathering my ponytail over to one side.
“Let’s get this beautiful dress off you, shall we?” he murmured against my ear. His warm breath sent tingles down my spine. Deftly, his fingers unclipped the clasp of the dress’s halter neck and then released the zipper until the material pooled at my feet.
“Hmm…” he mused, his voice barely a whisper as he glided his warm palms over the bare skin of my lower back before settling between my shoulder blades.
“We won’t be needing this either.” The strapless bra fell to the floor and joined the dress. “And these, we’ll use for later,” he hummed, drawing the lace thong over my hips and down my legs. When they hit the floor, I tried to kick them away but Roman scooped them up and placed them into his pants pocket.
Without warning, he spun me around to face him, my breath catching at the sudden movement, and then his mouth slammed down hard over mine. Eagerly, I opened up for him, feverishly meeting each stroke of his tongue. With our mouths still locked together, our tongues battling each other’s for control, he lifted me up; my legs, just like the night before, instinctively wrapped around his lean hips and he strode toward the bedroom.
Once we reached the bedroom, he tore his mouth from mine, nipping my bottom lip as he drew back, and laid me facedown on the mattress. Naked and completely vulnerable, I was sprawled, bent over the edge of the bed. Both feet were still encased in the gorgeous beaded sandals and barely just touched the floor, but my stomach and chest were prone against the bed. Lifting my arms above me, Roman bound my wrists tightly with the delicate lace of my thong he’d pocketed earlier, and then with a satisfied grunt, he leaned back. “Now this is promising.”
“Roman,” I hedged. “What are you doing?” My voice came out all breathy and husky. Apparently, the man had a definite kinky side to him and although I’d never thought of myself as the overly adventurous type in bed, I was fast becoming a convert.
I called to him again but he didn’t reply and soon I heard the rustle of his clothes being removed.
Before I could say anything else, he returned. His bare chest was lightly pressed to my back as both his palms slid down either sides of my waist, then over my hips and lower down my thighs; the heat of his hands blazed a trail along my skin. Lifting my ass up and back toward him, he parted my legs, and then moved his hips between them. One of his hands skimmed up the center of my spine, resting between my shoulder blades, and held me in place while the steel length of his erection nuzzled teasingly at my entrance.
First I moaned, and then I whimpered as his talented fingers explored the folds of my labia with leisurely, teasing strokes. With each pass, his fingertips lightly glided over my clitoris, barely touching it, but the effect it had on me was utterly maddening.
“Roman, please,” I pleaded. The tone of my voice was so raspy with desire, I barely recognized it as my own.
“Shh…quiet, Princess.” As he said the words, his hand on my back pressed down more firmly, holding me completely immobile as his fingers continued their assault, this time around homing in with more precision and intent, until I was panting, embarrassingly groaning like a cat in heat. The beginnings of a climax surfaced, and I knew it was going to be good; it was going to be earth-shattering, so I squirmed and pushed myself back against his hands, reaching for it.
“Uh-uh,” he scolded. “No, you don’t. You’ll come when I’m ready for you to come. For now, let’s just talk.” His fingers slowed their ministrations, effectively staunching my climax, and my body deflated.
My answering growl only made him chuckle. “Talking! You want to talk? Now? You have got to be kidding me.”
“Charlotte.” His breath fanned against my cheek as he placed a quick kiss there. “Spend the next three days with me.”
My body stilled. “What?”
He didn’t answer straight away but ran the tip of his tongue along the shell of my ear. “Spend the next three days with me in Venice and then I’ll take you home.”
My brain was still trying to process his words when abruptly he thrust into me, all the way to the hilt, in one powerful stroke of his hips. My answering cry was part surprise and part glorious ecstasy. And then…nothing—he didn’t move. Although the sensation of being completely filled of him was beyond amazing, I wanted more. I wanted him to start moving. This time, my cry was in frustration. “Why aren’t you moving?”
“Because you haven’t answered me.” His tone was so calm and so matter-of-fact, I blinked several times, trying to comprehend what he said.
“Venice? You’re asking me to come with you to Venice. Now? While we’re in the middle…” I couldn’t even finish the sentence. The sexual frustration was literally melting my brain cells.
“Yes, Charlotte. I’m asking you to come to Venice with me while I’m fucking you.” Each word sounded as if it was spoken through clenched teeth while desperately trying to hold onto his self-control.
Then his hips moved—out-in-out-in-out-in. With each measured, determined stroke, Roman obliterated what was left of my rational mind. “Roman!” I screamed, his name an urgent, frantic plea to take me over the edge.
“Say yes to me, Princess.” He grunted and thrust his hips harder.
“I…I…” Stuttering, I shook my head back and forth. “Oh God!” I could feel the rise of my release, the tightening of muscles and the synapses of every nerve ending in my body firing up like a Fourth of July fireworks and in that very moment, I would have agreed to anything.
“Say yes, Charlotte,” he demanded once more. The sound of our bodies slapping together in frenzied joining, relentlessly driving in and out, drove out all reason and rhyme.
“Charlotte,” he growled in warning.
“Yes!” I shouted. The word echoed around the room. “Yes, yes…anything, but please don’t stop!”
Rigidly I tensed; my toes curled as the climax crashed brutally through me, wave after glorious wave, shuddering and racking me from head to toe.
Moments later, Roman cursed loudly, gave one more mighty thrust of his hips, and ground against my center as his own release tore savagely through him.
Chapter Ten
~Venice, Italy ~
“He what?”
I winced, pulled the phone away from my ringing eardrums and rolled my eyes at Courtney. This was one of the reasons I didn’t like sharing too much with people. However, Courtney had always been the exception to the rule. But damn it—the girl had been and always would be a drama queen. Still, I loved her dearly.
“While he was…like inside, inside you?”
“Yes Courtney, while we were having sex. That’s how it usually works…the man puts his—”
“I know the mechanics of sex,” she snapped.
“Ohmigod!” Another scream. “That’s sexual coercion,” she said, with what sounded like admiration. “Got to give it to the man—he is one slick operator.”
Sexual coercion. Those were the exact words I had used last night with Roman after we finished having sex. Indignantly, I’d accused Roman of sexually blackmailing me into going to Venice with him. He, in return, argued my acquiesce was binding regardless the circumstance. Then a very heated and very loud discussion ensued, which led to angry sex…lots of angry sex. It was not pretty—there was groping, biting, and scratching (all me) and kissing, petting, and licking (all him) until I found myself once again agreeing to go to Italy with him.
It was the morning after; I had awoken to an empty bed and an empty hotel suite—no Roman. He did, however, leave a note on the nightstand by the bed and in bold, slashing handwriting stated he’d left for a business meeting but would be back early in the afternoon to collect me. In his note, he advised me to pack, as we would be leaving directly for the airport on his return and we’d retrieve my newly issued passport on the way.
Damn arrogant, bossy, insufferable man!
Argh…who was I kidding—I wasn’t in any hurry for our fling to end.
“So are you going?” Courtney drew my attention back to our conversation.
“Yes.” I held my breath, half expecting her to call me crazy.
“I just knew something was going to happen between the two of you.” She released an earsplitting squeal and I immediately regretted putting the phone back against my ear. I knew I should’ve switched to loudspeaker. “Ohmigod Charli, you’re going to Venice with a hot smoking millionaire!”
I bit my lip, choosing to not correct her on Roman’s wealth status because…well, firstly, it wasn’t any of her damn business or anyone else’s, and secondly, the thought of Roman’s outrageous net worth still made me extremely uncomfortable. His money had absolutely nothing to do with why I wanted to spend some more time in his company. Roman was interesting and intriguing and he made me feel both…adventurous and fearless at the same time. Aside from being unapologetically demanding and insufferably presumptuous, Roman Knight was a charismatically charming man, exceedingly generous, and surprisingly thoughtful—although I suspected the softer side of his personality was not something he showed many people very often. And when he wasn’t being a complete ass, Roman was sweet, his dry wit made me laugh, and let’s face it—the man was beyond sexy. Roman Knight was smoking hot and I just…liked him.
“Hmm, well, if you were anyone else, I’d automatically caution you, tell you to be careful, blah, blah—the usual. But Charli, you’re the most sensible person I know, so all I have to say is—have fun, let your hair down for once in your life, and enjoy the heck out of that sexy stud muffin. You’ve worked so hard studying for your teaching degree, performing with the troupe over the last few years and denied yourself a lot in life—too much, in my opinion—but now it’s your time to have a little adventure, a little romance. And if you could just lower that guard of yours enough, maybe let the incredibly hot Mr. Knight dazzle you, I think it’ll do you a world of good. Besides, you never know where this might lead—it could be the beginning of some epic romance.”
Gah! God, I loved my friend and all her good intentions but I had to shut this shit down and fast. “I love you, Court, I really do, but please don’t get the wrong idea here. There is no more going to happen—period! Both Roman and I’ve made it perfectly clear to each other at the beginning: this is a holiday fling, nothing more. We’re just two consenting adults, having some fun—no epic love story. Okay? So, please don’t get any ideas.”
“So what you’re saying is—it’s only sex between you two and nothing else?” Her words were tinged with disappointment. I flinched at the disconcerting feeling that rose within my chest at hearing her summarize my own words.
“Well, yes, Court, sex and maybe friendship, I hope.” I frowned as I realized how much I hoped Roman and I would remain friends when this was over between us. “Now, has any mail come for me?” I asked, in attempt to change the subject.
“Actually, yes. You have three letters.”
“Are they small or big envelopes?”
“Er…all small ones, I’m afraid. Sorry, babe,” she said softly.
I heaved a huge sigh—small envelopes usually meant rejection letters. God, I had to get a job soon. “Okay, thanks anyway. I’ll see you in four days and give my love to Jake.”
“Will do…and Charli,” she called. “Keep in touch while you’re in Italy, even if it’s only by text. I want to hear all the juicy details.”
“I’ll text you every couple of days to let you know I’m okay but that’s it, you nosy cow.”
She huffed. “Well, at least bring me home one of those Venetian masks when you come back. I love those things.”
“Will do, Court. Love you. Bye.” I hung up and threw my phone on the bed but not before noting it was almost two in the afternoon.
Another day had flown by way too fast again. After waking late—sometime just after ten in the morning—and reading the note Roman had left, I dressed and ate a croissant for breakfast. Then I decided to take a walk and soak up a little of the Paris atmosphere in the streets that surrounded the hotel. I headed back around one in the afternoon, had a shower, threw on my last pair of clean jeans with a fitted lemon-colored long-sleeved stretchy knit t-shirt and braided my hair to one side. There were times I really, really loved my long, thick hair, mainly because it reminded me so much of my mother, but just as equally, there were times the sheer length and weight of my mane drove me nuts and I was tempted to get the darn thing cut off. Today was one of those days. I packed my belongings into the small suitcase and as I gathered the dress and lingerie Roman had bought me to pack, I gently caressed the silky material of the oyster pink negligée with my fingers. Last night, I hadn’t gotten the chance to put it on for him when we arrived back from dinner—our frenzied sexcapades kind of got in the way. Followed by our argument regarding Roman’s sexual extorting techniques, which led to more sexcapades and the negligée was all but forgotten.
However, now that I’d had sometime on my own today to think, I was genuinely excited to be going to Venice. Really—who wouldn’t be over the moon to be going to Italy! And not only to experience the historic Italian city surrounded by lagoons and canals but deep down I was excited to be experiencing it with Roman. And truthfully, there was a small part of me that wasn’t quite ready for our time together to end yet. The thought was disconcerting so I decided to implement the “Ostrich Plan,” and not think about it.
With my small suitcase packed and placed by the front door, I took one last look around the hotel suite, appreciating all its grand splendor and elegant opulence. The sound of the front door to the suite opening startled me and I turned to see Roman stroll in.
“Hey.” I unashamedly stared at his very tall, incredibly handsome, and impeccably well-dressed form as he approached me.
“Hey,” he replied, and then gifted me with a small smile. “You ready?”
I returned his smile with a grin. “If you mean by ready—am I packed, showered, dressed, and ready to be whisked away to Venice by the man who unscrupulously blackmailed me into going to another country by using earth-shattering, toe-curling sex…then yes.” I tilted my head and grinned wider. “I think I’m all ready to go.”
One of his eyebrows rose. “Toe-curling?”
“Really? That’s all you got from my statement?”
“Earth-shattering?” His mouth hitched to one side.
I shook my head. “So damn egotistical.”
“Perhaps.” He pulled me into his arms. “But as I have told you before, Princess, I’m a man who gets what he wants and by any means necessary.” He leaned down and brushed his lips softly against mine.
Damn arrogant jerk!
When I boarded Roman’s company jet, I took the same seat I sat in on the flight from Bordeaux to Paris. Tightly clutched in my hand was my brand new passport and I was determined to never let it leave my sight again or at least until I’d safely arrived back on American soil. Although, if my passport hadn’t been stolen, I w
ouldn’t have had the last couple of days with Roman, and I certainly wouldn’t be on my way to Italy with the gorgeous ass. So I guess in a perverse kind of way, the thief did me a favor.
“Welcome back, Mr. Knight. May I get you a drink, sir?”
Ah…Megan the hostess with the breathy voice—I’d forgotten about her. Ugh!
“Yes, a Scotch neat, once we’ve taken off.” Roman’s tone was brisk and I swung my gaze from Megan the smiling hostess to him. He frowned, distracted with something on his phone. My eyes swung back to Megan, noting her smile had now waned. I almost felt sorry for her. Roman could be such a rude ass at times.
“Charlotte,” he said impatiently, and my gaze swung back to his. God, I felt as if I were at a tennis match.
“Huh?” I asked in confusion.
“Drink. Would you like a drink?”
“Oh…sorry. Yes, umm, a coffee if it isn’t too much trouble, please.”
“Of course.” She flashed another smile but this time it didn’t reach her eyes. Megan turned on her six-inch heels and walked back to the galley. Those shoes looked awfully uncomfortable.
My attention turned back to Roman, who was still reading the screen of his cell. “So…” I wished I could snatch his phone for a moment. “Do you have meetings to attend in Venice as well?”
“No. Thank God.” He threw his phone on the small table beside him as if the thing annoyed him.
I rubbed my hands together and tried to sound like a cartoon villain. “Oh goody, I get to have you all to myself then.”
