"We don't know if that's what he wants. There's still a chance he dropped it by mistake."
"I'm going to throttle you. Wake up. Has he returned your calls? Or emailed you to say he lost an important letter? No, he hasn't. Aidan Forrester does not make mistakes."
In her heart, Meg wanted to believe he didn't, but after nothing but professionalism for two years, it was a hard sell that the invitation was meant for her. For christsake, he didn't even care that she was leaving, and she didn't want to believe that Aidan dropping the envelope was a predetermined plan.
"Besides, I couldn't go if I wanted to." Ellory presented a pair of sheer black stockings to Meg. "I have someone of my very own to dress up for."
"Harrison?"
With a flourish of her hand, Shelly produced a leather cat suit from a bag. "Tonight he gets to meet the Dominatrix."
"Or Cat Woman," Meg said. "I'm sure he'll be fine with either."
"Wouldn't every man?"
Grabbing her bags with a smile, Meg rushed into her bedroom and dumped everything onto the bed. The shoebox room was big enough for a double bed, a full-length mirror, and a rail for clothes. Since she didn't need the room for anything other than sleeping, thanks to her barren love life, it suited her fine. She stripped and examined her body. She wasn't perfect. Having bumps, dips, and curves was who she was, and she wouldn't change for anyone.
An intricate French braid laced with pearls adorned her head, while the rest of her hair lay in barrel curls over one shoulder. She looked like a renaissance fair reject, or a wench who belonged in a tavern serving ale to thirsty pirates.
Sitting on the edge of her bed, she pulled on the sheer stockings and delighted as the silky material glided over her skin. Next, she shimmied into the dress and hoped to God it had titanium seams. Otherwise, she'd burst out of it if she ate more than a crumb. Underwear or no underwear? Placing her hands on her knees, she glanced back at her reflection. Her booty was there for the world to see. Definitely underwear. The world was not ready for the blinding glare of her sun-starved butt. She delved into a box marked passion killers, shoving anything gray or with snapped elastic out of her way until she found a pair of lacy shorts decorated with diamantes. It would be rude not to make the effort now she'd come this far.
"You'll have to lace up this corset for me," she called out and slipped her feet into a new pair of black, three-inch heels. They pinched a little, but she would suffer the pain a sexy pair of shoes brought.
Ellory strolled into the bedroom. "Well, just look at you. You'll have to fight them off." She picked up one of the ribbons laying on the bed and began to thread it through the eyelets at the back of the dress. "Resist me while I pull."
Ellory secured the ribbon as if she was a surgeon suturing a wound. Meg tilted forward. Her body transformed before her eyes. Her waist cinched in, and her breasts all but spilled from the bodice. Ellory tugged hard, and Meg's breath whooshed out.
"You're going to fracture my ribs if you pull any tighter. I don't want my boobs to break free mid-conversation."
"I'm sure Aidan wouldn't mind one little bit if they did." Ellory tied the last ribbon and stood back, examining the bows.
Meg lowered her gaze to the swell of her now very high and voluptuous breasts. "It's a little bit like false advertising, don't you think?" She studied herself from every angle. "Once the dress comes off, my boobilicious boobs will fall south."
"Are you blind? You look hot. One glance at you and Aidan Forrester will drop to his knees and beg you to marry him."
"Sure he will."
"Wait, we forgot the most important part." Ellory darted out of the room and returned a few seconds later with a cobalt-blue masquerade mask. Blue and gold feathers decorated the lace bridge, and sparkling Swarovski crystals lined the eyes. Ellory lifted it into place, and Meg held it as her friend secured it. The mask covered the upper half of her face, but her irises sparkled with a tawny hue, and her fire-engine red lips appeared fuller, seductive. Angelia Jolie had nothing on her.
"Wow," Ellory breathed.
"I don't even look like me." Meg touched her hand to the sensual woman in the mirror. She hardly recognized herself and worried that maybe Aidan wouldn't recognize her either.
The muffled ringtone of Eartha Kitt purring Santa Baby shook Meg from her daydream, and after pulling everything off her bed, she located her phone beneath a mountain of plastic bags. "Hello."
"Ms. Daniels? This is your chauffeur. Your car is outside," said a clipped voice.
"Car? I didn't order a car. Who sent you?"
"The answer to that question isn't worth my job, ma'am. Let's just say an admirer."
"An admirer, huh?" Her excitement mounted and she stared at Ellory who shrugged her shoulders.
"Okay. I'll be there in a second." Meg hung up and grabbed a small purse from the bedroom floor. Her stomach cartwheeled, and it took all of her willpower not to hurl. The stench of vomit clinging to her pores would turn off even the most ardent man. "What if this is some kind of elaborate set-up?" She clutched her purse to her chest. "What if I make a fool of myself?"
"I'm not listening to anymore of your weak ass excuses." Ellory shoved her out of the apartment door and practically dragged her downstairs through her still-empty store. "Your pumpkin awaits, Cinders."
Outside, a stretch limo with blacked-out windows idled in the bustling lamp-lit street, and a uniformed chauffeur held a door open.
"Do me a favor," Ellory said with a hug. "Relax and let the night take you where it will."
"I promise." Trying not to panic, Meg gulped down a breath and slid into the car, but when she saw the empty backseat, cold disappointment sliced her heart.
****
Aidan stood by the ice bar and sipped a Bushmills on the rocks. He'd attended one of these parties on Independence Day. But preferring not to partake in the celebrations, he'd networked, drank beer, and left early. Plenty of women had offered him their company, but he'd declined. He wasn't what you would call the biggest fan of one-night stands. This evening, he'd already been propositioned numerous times, but the only woman on his mind was Meg.
She'd taken the bait, and the thought of seeing her hardened his dick. For two years, he'd denied himself Ms. Daniels, but tonight he'd finally get some relief. There was no more denying himself anything. The driver texted him saying they were on their way. With traffic, it should take no more than thirty minutes for them to arrive—thirty minutes too long.
The abandoned sugar warehouse on the Hudson had been transformed into a winter wonderland. In a few hours, his brother Cole, along with the Forrester Events team, would strip the place bare, and it would be as if nothing ever happened. Their younger brother Ronan, Cole's business partner, usually looked after the tear down, but he'd flown to Dublin at the beginning of the week on some kind of secret mission.
These parties were a safe place for the glitterati to indulge their desires without worrying about the paparazzi or kiss-and-tell stories. If the mayor wanted a socialite to trail him around the party as if he were her pet, he could. Same thing if a box office heartthrob wanted to wear cuffs, a collar and a slave mask while licking his mistress's feet. No cameras, no phones, and a ten-page confidentiality contract meant no evidence.
He wandered around the makeshift club, only stopping to talk when necessary, and discreetly turning from any partygoers who'd decided to begin their festivities early. Some of the guests took the idea of a masquerade to extreme lengths and wore costumes that wouldn't seem out of place in a Victorian brothel. Aidan preferred to keep it simple and stylish with a tuxedo and a plain black masque.
A message lit up his phone informing him they'd arrive in two minutes. Anticipation tightened his gut, and he made his way to the ground floor. He debated going to meet her, but decided he would watch from the shadows. He wanted to see how she reacted to the hedonism happening around her. To gauge if she was as open-minded as he'd hoped.
The limo pulled up, and when the chauffe
ur opened the door for Meg, Aidan's cock twitched in appreciation. How he yearned to sink into her warmth.
Glancing around, she pulled up the bodice of her exquisite dress and smoothed the extremely short skirt over stocking-clad legs. When she reached back into the car, the hem of her skirt rose up, giving him a glimpse of her skimpy underwear.
He stood by the window, mesmerized by her movements, and watched as she teetered into the warehouse in a pair of fuck-me heels. He'd keep his distance, but stay close enough to rescue her if needed. Because of her appearance, it wouldn't take long until someone cornered her and tried to make her theirs for the night. By no means did he consider himself a jealous man, but something about Meg made him understand the nature of Neanderthals—she was his, no one else's.
Chapter Three
Meg stepped through frosted pillars and followed a path between ice-covered trees into Narnia. Mesmerizing LED snowflakes floated around the cavernous room, and blue lights illuminated hundreds of icicles hanging from a vast ceiling. A cacophony of Christmas music and laughter hit her in vibrating waves. Her pulse drummed in time to the music, and if it wasn't for the possibility of seeing Aidan, she'd have sprinted back to the limo. It took a few seconds for her sight to adjust to the lighting, and when it did, her gaze darted around the undulating crowd looking for him.
Masked revelers laughed, danced, and drank. A few feet from her, a snow-white curtain fluttered open. She had to look twice. A woman on all fours writhed on a tabletop while being spanked by a half-naked man. By the contorted desire on both of their faces, they relished every minute. Meg's mouth formed a stunned O. The man behind the curtain caught her staring and beckoned to her with a crooked finger, but with a hard swallow and a quick shake of her head, Meg took several shaky steps back. She tried not to stare, really she did, but the sight both embarrassed and enthralled her. Ellory was right to keep her in the dark. If she'd told her it was some type of rich peoples' sex party, she might never have come.
She looped around the outskirts of the heaving dance floor in search of Aidan. If he'd taken such elaborate steps to get her here, why was he hiding? When she saw no sign of him, she waded deeper into the Christmas-themed room. Bodiless hands stroked and pawed her. The next person to touch her without permission was going to be on the receiving end of her fist.
An arm snaked around her waist. She curled her fingers and swung her fist backward, but before she made contact, a strong hand caught it and pinned it by her side. Fingers swept her hair behind her ear, and soft lips nuzzled her neck. Woodsy cologne cocooned her in a blanket of safety.
Aidan. Relief poured through her veins and a small moan squeaked from her lips. She tried to turn around, but his arm held her firm.
"I'm glad you decided to come," he whispered, pushing up the ruffles of her skirt. He pressed against her butt and a pleasant thrill ran down her legs. To say he had an erection didn't come close to describing how hard he was.
"Me too, I think."
He laced his fingers between hers and led her to a curtained booth with white leather seats and a small drinks table. "Sit yourself down."
She perched on the edge of a chair, glad for the invitation because the nervous energy swamping her blood stream was about to make her run all the way home. A waiter appeared with two glasses and a magnum of champagne in an ice bucket. Would it seem strange if she picked up the bucket and poured the contents over her head? Not even that would be enough to cool her feverish skin, though. The waiter left with a bow and swished the curtains closed.
Not knowing what else to do, Meg shoved her hands beneath her thighs and shyly glanced at Aidan. His lips pursed and his brow creased. Was he wondering if this was a mistake? She hoped not.
"So, Ms. Daniels, here we are."
"Yes." She cleared her throat. "I'm surprised. A party where people have sex. Openly. A sex party. It's not what I expected, not that I knew what to expect. I'm also surprised that you're here and that this is your thing. Not that there's anything wrong with this being your thing of course."
"It's not necessarily my thing, but I wouldn't say I'm adverse to it," he said in that sing-song voice of his. "My brothers organize these events for the very rich for an astronomical sum. Are you shocked?"
She chewed her bottom lip and heat crept up her face. Shocked? Was she? At first maybe, but the more she saw, the more she wanted, and the more she realized what was missing from her spinster-like existence. Meg leaned forward and licked her lips. "Would it shock you that I'm not? That it makes my heart beat a little faster?"
"Shock me? No. Make me want to rip your clothes off and fuck you over the table? Yes."
A sound somewhere in the oh family fell from her lips and every pore on her body prickled as if an electric current buzzed through the chair. She still half expected him to say it was a mistake and she should leave before she embarrassed herself anymore, but the red-hot heat in his eyes told her he meant business. Her gaze lingered on his gorgeous face and the more she stared the sexier he became. He was pure testosterone wrapped up in a designer tuxedo. And the way he watched her told her more than his words ever could. He desired her. Thought she was pretty damn sexy, and for now, his lust was enough.
"Do you have any idea what I do when I think about you?" he asked leaning forward.
"Tell me."
His eyes bore into hers with an intensity that sent her mind reeling. "I jerk off nice and slow thinking about your legs wrapped around my waist. About my face buried between your legs."
A surge of arousal shook her body. "I think I need a drink."
"I need you, Meghan. And more than anything, I need to taste you, need to hear you scream my name when you come on my mouth." His voice was thick and heavy with hunger. "You have no idea what you do to me."
"Oh, I think I do." She clutched the sides of the chair, trying to find balance in the fast-tilting world. Fantasies involving him filled her every waking minute, and her brain screamed take me right now. But, even though she would kill to have him, she bit her words back. Better to seem cool than desperate—at least for a little while.
Aidan stood, took a prowling step forward, and sat on the table ledge directly in front of her. He wedged his knee between hers, inching her legs apart. A hint of a smile curved his lips, and her tingling clit all but begged for his mouth's undivided attention. Her chest tightened, and with every rasping breath, her breasts plotted their escape from her corset.
He shifted a little closer. Would he kiss her now? Excitement inflated her lungs and she parted her lips. He placed his hands on her knees and slid them up her thighs, then stopped at the top of her stockings. His fingers were mere inches from her wet panties. She clamped her thighs together to ease the throbbing ache pressing down on her clit.
He smiled and lifted his hands away. "Still need a drink?"
She licked her parched lips and nodded.
He reached for the champagne and gave it a vigorous shake.
"What are you doing?" She cowered away. "It's going to explode."
Amusement flashed in Aidan's eyes, and when he popped the cork, he aimed the bubbling foam at Meg's breasts. She yelped and jumped away from the fizzy liquid, but she wasn't quick enough to stop the cold bubbles from gushing over her chest and flowing down her dress. Aidan curved his hands over her shoulders and drew her close. He lowered his head and sipped from her cleavage, and with a startled gasp, Meg fell back against the seat. He slid his hand around her waist and lapped at her flesh. Her nails scored the faux leather, and achy need mixed with daring pushed her chest forward.
"You're as delicious as I knew you'd be," he murmured. The rasp of his razor-like stubble sensitized her swollen breasts.
"W—why did it take you so long to do this?"
He trailed kisses along her collarbone up to the crook of her neck, his breath heated her skin, and Meg arched into him.
"I don't mix business with pleasure," he murmured against her throat. "Sex—a relationship—would've complicated t
hings. But understand, the very second you walked into my office, I wanted you, and I've spent many an hour imagining this very moment."
Meg reached out and curled her clawed fingers over his thighs. She could do this. She could admit how she felt; how much she wanted him. "I want you, too. I've always wanted you, but you were so professional. If I thought there could've been anything more between us I'd have stripped naked in your office. I nearly did yesterday, but lost my nerve."
He lifted his lips and chuckled. "That could still happen. The night's young. But now we're going to make up for lost time, and I intend to make you scream my name from those bright red lips of yours."
"If you keep talking like that, my boobs are going to pop completely out of this excuse for a dress." She glanced down at her heaving breasts and decided she wouldn't look out of place on the cover of a bodice-ripping romance.
"And why would that be a problem?"
"I don't think I want the New York jet set getting an eye full of the girls."
He brushed his knuckles over her chest and up to her neck. "The only person who'll be seeing your 'girls' tonight is me."
His hands framed her face, holding her steady, and he bent his head, touching the tip of his tongue over the seam of her lips. This was it. The moment she'd spent twenty-four months fantasizing about, and she hoped she wouldn't pass out and destroy it.
He pressed his champagne-coated lips against hers. His mouth was cool but tender, soft but firm. She drank every bit of him in. The kiss sent bolts of white-hot lightening to every receptive part of her body. His mouth turned hungry. He knew how to kiss her. How to tease her. How to liquefy her bones.
Meg kicked off her shoes then wrapped her legs around the back of his thighs and pulled him closer. His breath came harsh and heavy, and his cock strained against the confines of his trousers. She raised her hand to caress him, but sudden shyness made her hesitate, and her cautious fingers curled inward. A frustrated moan sounded from her throat. Now was not the time to act like a Catholic schoolgirl. He wasn't her employer. He was a man who desired her. She tore her mouth away from his and drew in a shuddering breath to collect her thoughts. If she wanted him, it was time to show him.
The Millionaire's Masquerade (Erotic Romance Novella) Page 2
