by Maggie Marr
He pulled her around, and she faced him now. His eyes burned through her and then his lips were on hers, a hard greedy kiss that she returned. She matched his want, his desire, with her own. His hand skimmed over her bustier and pulled her breast from the top, and then he pulled his lips from hers. His gaze remained tied to hers as his thumb stroked over her tight bud of a nipple and then squeezed and pulled.
His lips neared her ear. “You like that?”
“Yes.”
He pulled his lips from her ear and bent forward and pulled her nipple into his mouth. His tongue rolled around her nipple and suckled her.
Heat shot through her. He pressed his other hand to her panties, which were held to her body by the tiniest of strings. With one swift jerk, he pulled them from her. His hand clasped her curls. He pulled his mouth from her nipple. A tiny moan of ache escaped Prim’s mouth.
“This is mine for tonight.”
“Yes,” she whispered out. “Oh God, yes.” Being his for tonight was exactly what she needed, what she wanted. She needed a man to take her, grab her, be in control, to fuck her.
In one swift movement, he pulled the bustier from her. She stood before him, naked except for her heels. He walked her back to the bed and pressed her onto her back.
“Stay,” he said. The word held no anger, no meanness, just a direct command.
She stayed. He stood before her.
“Open your legs.”
Prim’s heart beat fast, so fast. She’d never been ordered to do anything in her life, and yet … and yet, his words filled some sort of unknown need.
She opened her legs. He stood and his eyes roamed over her pussy. Her sex clutched under his gaze. He wasn’t even touching her and yet it felt as if his fingers were pushing against her clit.
Again the wicked half smile danced across his face and he quirked his eyebrow high above his mask. “You like that. Being told what to do.”
She did. God, she did. She could never admit it, not to anyone, barely to herself, but she did like giving in to him and surrendering control. She would surrender to this man for tonight.
“Put your finger on your pussy.”
Prim’s breath hitched, and yet her hand moved to her sex. She pressed her finger to her clit. Slippery and so full of want.
“Feel how wet you are. Do you feel it?”
“Oh, yes,” Prim breathed out.
“Who made you that wet?”
“Oh my God,” Prim said, “you did. You made me this wet.” Her sex clutched and clutched again. Her fingers moved back and forth and slid across her swollen nub. Two more strokes from her fingertips and she would fly apart at the seams.
“Stop,” he said.
Her hand stopped moving. She opened her eyes and he knelt before her, his face close to her sex, his hot breath against her thigh. He clasped her hand and sucked her fingers, her two fingers that had stroked across her wetness. He set them aside. And then his finger stroked up the side of her cleft and teased across her swollen clit.
Prim clutched the comforter with her hand and her hips jerked up toward his tongue, toward his mouth. He grasped her hips with his hands and steadied her. His mouth slowly circled her clit and then closed around her and sucked, and his lips rolled her most sensitive spot.
Heat throbbed through her. Two fingers slid into her. Two very large fingers. God, if his fingers were that big, how would his cock feel in her body? He pulled his mouth from her sex.
“No, no, no, no,” she cried.
He leaned back and stood. She missed his touch. She needed his mouth on her.
“Undo my pants,” he said.
Her gaze locked with his. She sat up and reached for his zipper. She would do anything, anything he asked, to feel that sweet pleasure provided by him. She was desperate to strip him of his clothes. She unbuttoned his jeans.
Her mouth dropped open. She looked up at him.
His cock was huge.
She pulled his jeans down and he stepped out of them. All the while, her eyes were on the giant cock that waited for her. Waited for her to suck it and to spear herself onto it. God, she wanted him to fuck her now, to jam that lovely length of hard male cock into her.
He removed his shirt and stood before her with no clothes. Nothing. Only a mask on his face.
The girl at the disco was right. Prim was wilder when she wore a mask.
“Do you like what you see?” That deep rough voice.
She did like what she saw. She wanted to make him come, to have this huge man make her come.
“Stroke me.”
Prim reached out her hands and grasped his cock at the base and pulled upward in one fine stroke. His belly muscles twitched and she heard a hiss of breath over his teeth.
“Now kiss me.”
He needn’t tell her twice. She took the head of his cock and gave him a long, wet, openmouthed kiss. Hot dribbles of come pulsed from the head of his cock, and she licked it with her tongue, greedy to take the drops into her mouth.
Again the wicked half smile. “You are very bad. I didn’t tell you that you could have those drops, did I?”
Prim looked up at him. No, he hadn’t. He hadn’t given her permission.
“Turn over,” he said. “Get on your hands and knees.”
She did as he told her. A thrill of fear combined with desire trickled through her. She was completely exposed to this man. A man she didn’t know. A man she’d picked up in a club. And yet Prim now waited on the mattress, on her hands and knees. He stood behind her with his cock out. He could do anything to her.
His hand caressed the soft, sensitive skin of her ass.
“A beautiful ass.” He leaned forward and his lips pressed against the soft flesh. His finger slid down the center of her. “So wet.” He paused just at her clit and pressed, and her body jerked backward, toward him, toward his cock, toward the fulfillment that she desperately craved. “But you are a naughty girl.”
His hand slapped against her ass.
A gasp jerked her body. A tingle burst through her sex. The deep, thick heat of an orgasm formed in her body.
He leaned over her, his cock bouncing against the back of her leg. His lips tickled her ear. “You’ve not been spanked before.” His hand soothed over the spot that, after the slap of his palm, had burned with a pleasure Prim had not ever before experienced.
She swallowed and shook her head no. She’d not ever been spanked, and yet she deeply desired for him to spank her again.
“But you do so deserve it.” His hand smacked her ass once, twice, and a third time.
A moan came out of Prim’s body with the third spank. He bent forward and kissed her tingling ass, and then his lips were upon her from behind. His hand reached forward to the front of her sex as he pulsed against her clit, and his tongue roamed into her sex.
Her body clenched. Desire throbbed through her. She wanted the release of orgasm. He reached his arm around her waist and flipped her onto her back, then spread her legs open.
His lips descended to her sex and he pulled her clit and sucked. He devoured her with a greedy want, as though he needed to consume her. He pulled his lips from her slowly.
His gaze locked with hers. “Come now,” he said, still positioned between her legs. His mouth returned to her clit and sucked.
Prim flew apart. Her hips hitched upward as he continued to pull on her nub. His fingers pulsed deep in her sex. A loud shriek tore from her and she bucked upward once more. Her body convulsed as the orgasm shuddered through her body.
He pulled his lips from her sex and moved up onto her and kissed her. The earthy taste of her lingered on his lips. She was sated with her orgasm, but not nearly satisfied.
Hadn’t Layla said she needed to have sex? Needed the sex to reduce her tension? Already the never-ending pain in her shoulder had faded away to nothing.
“Now I’m going to make you come again.” His voice was softer with less command, though his eyes still held lust. He stood from the bed and wen
t to his pants. The sounds of foil being ripped came from the other side of the bed and he returned to her sheathed.
He knelt between her legs. She was wet and aroused. His fingertips found her clit. The head of his cock gently pulsed forward and she felt him, the very end of him, at her entrance. Her hips tilted toward him.
“A girl like you could end a man like me.”
A smile formed on Prim’s lips. He’d had so much control since they’d returned, and she enjoyed knowing the strength it had taken him to withstand her. He pushed farther into her. Heat seared her entrance, and his fingertips circled her clit. He leaned forward, his gaze on hers. They both still wore masks. She reached up and placed her hand on the back of his head as he pressed forward into her.
“You are so tight,” he said through gritted teeth.
“And I want you to fuck me,” Prim said.
And with one blindingly hard thrust he was inside her.
*
Prim woke to the sound of her phone beeping. She jerked up from her bed. Her head throbbed and she pressed her fingertips to her temple.
What the hell?
Her mask was skewed but still on her head. She glanced at the clock on the side table. Shit! Twenty minutes late! Why had she flown commercial? Prim jumped from the bed and rushed toward her already-packed suitcase. She jerked on her yoga pants and long cotton tunic and boots. Casual comfort was best for the plane ride home. Shit. Shit. Shit. She couldn’t miss this plane! If she did, she wouldn’t get to L.A. in time for the torturous Monday-morning meeting with the new owner of Metro Media.
Once dressed, Prim turned toward the bed. That gorgeous man who’d caused her to come over and over and over last night was still sacked out. His hard-carved body was immeasurably beautiful. And those hands. Prim shivered with the memory of his touch. Goodness, she wished for one more hour to be under the tutelage of those hands. Please, yes. Instead, Prim pulled her hair back into a ponytail and finally jerked the mask from her head. She hoisted her bag up over her shoulder.
No pain! Oh my God, there was no pain in her shoulder! Layla. Goodness, Layla had been right. Right about everything. Well almost everything. Layla had said the man Prim was with last night would be in Prim’s life for a very long time. That wasn’t happening. She’d yet to see her lover’s face, and she definitely didn’t want to exchange names. Prim stopped at the edge of the bed. Well, perhaps, it would be lovely to have this very gorgeous man, with his very large cock, in her life, if only for fun-time between the sheets. That wouldn’t happen. Last night was a one-time thing. A one-off.
Prim leaned forward and reached her hand toward his face. His breath came soft and even. Her fingertips brushed the hard plastic as she lifted the mask and settled it onto his head. He was breathtakingly beautiful. In sleep he was peaceful, and those dark, smoldering eyes weren’t available to look at, but still … His nose and strong jaw, high cheekbones, and the devil’s dent in his chin made for an enticing picture. And those lips. Prim tingled with the memory of what those lips had done to her body.
A car horn sounded outside. She glanced at the clock.
“Good-bye, gorgeous.” Prim leaned forward and her lips pressed to his. A bolt of desire flashed through her.
His eyes fluttered open and his arms came up and around her. “Good morning.”
“Good-bye.”
“Good-bye then.” He pressed a kiss to her lips.
She pulled away from her one-night stand and walked out the door and back to all the changes in her life that awaited her in L.A.
Chapter Three
“Sir, everyone is assembled in the conference room. The video links with London, Hong Kong, and Tokyo are live. The entire company is present.”
Tristan nodded. “Thanks, Philippe. Give me two minutes.”
His assistant exited the office and closed the door. The open expanse of the Pacific lay just on the other side of the glass. He’d prefer to view those waves from his surfboard, and his gaze followed a boat in the distance. A laid-back life wasn’t part of his existence as a Rhodes. To be a Rhodes meant to be constantly on the hunt for the next deal, the next purchase, the next takeover. Business kept him busy. Unlike his brothers, he preferred a solitary existence. Tristan loathed publicity. Instead of late nights and parties, and even the continued company of women, he preferred buying companies and dismantling them piece by profitable piece.
An unfamiliar want had collected in his belly this morning. A want that had begun the day before when the woman had left his bed. He enjoyed women, but Tristan didn’t get attached. For him, women were a disposable entertainment. A distraction that, in this point of his career, he didn’t want or need. Tristan strode across his office and down the hall. He paused at the door to the conference room.
“Sir,” Philippe said.
Tristan nodded and Philippe pulled open the conference-room door.
*
“How long is he going to make us wait?” Prim flipped her phone over and glanced at the time. The meeting was meant to begin at exactly nine a.m. and it was now three minutes after. She’d busted her ass to get here after one delayed flight due to weather and another that was canceled because of a mechanical problem. She was running on no sleep and had a desperate headache. She glanced around the room at the one hundred plus employees who fidgeted in their chairs and the two video screens that linked the three foreign divisions of Metro Media.
Panic hung in the room. Panic and loads of fear due to the sudden change in ownership. Her e-mail had exploded since the sale. What could she say? She’d failed. Ryan hadn’t believed in her enough to simply hand the company to her or even give her time to try to cobble together financing to buy Metro from him.
She’d held the place together for nearly a year after the death of Paloma, hoping that once Ryan worked through his grief he’d return. The loss of his fiancée and his unborn child was too much. Understandably so. Prim closed her eyes. If only Ryan had sold Metro to her instead of some elderly codger whose background was in steel manufacturing.
Prim locked eyes with her assistant. Alyssa sat in the first row away from the conference table. Alyssa’s eyes widened and Prim tilted her head. Her skin prickled. Their new boss was here. Prim turned her head and looked up at the man who now stood beside her. Her heart dropped to her toes. A cold perspiration claimed her palms.
The full lips, his golden skin, the Cupid’s bow of his mouth, the devil’s dent on his chin, and those eyes. Those dark eyes that had once harbored heat but now perused her with an ice-cold gaze. A gaze that did not contain surprise.
“Miss Baxter,” he said. The muscle tensed in his jaw.
His rough-edged voice. The same voice that had commanded her to do things.… The cold hard blade of panic set in her belly. Prim’s neck flamed with a blush and her entire body ignited with desire.
Desire and panic. What an atrocious combination.
She’d anticipated a man approaching seventy with white hair and loose jowls. She’d anticipated William Rhodes. Her eyes blinked—had she hallucinated this man?
*
Prim Baxter? The woman. The woman who’d created an ache of want when she’d departed her bed just yesterday morning in Mesquale. Less than thirty-six hours ago, he’d sunk his cock hip-deep into her after firmly planting his face between her legs.
“Tristan Rhodes.” He held his hand out to Prim. The Metro Media staff watched them. She’d been their protector when Ryan disappeared into his grief and the de facto CEO of Metro Media. He must be firm and yet respectful. And somehow not let the nearly overwhelming desire to bend her over this conference table and fuck her show through.
“It’s a pleasure, Ms. Baxter,” Tristan said. “Ryan’s told me much about you. I feel like we’ve already met.”
Prim unfolded her legs and stood, her body long and lean. The scent of her, that damned vanilla and cinnamon, wafted toward him. The muscles in his lower back tightened. Her lips twitched. The fluidity of her movements entranced h
im. The same fluidity that he’d watched when her hips had first pressed against his cock.
“Mr. Rhodes.” Prim lifted one eyebrow and grasped his hand.
An electrical circuit had just completed with Prim’s touch, and heat surged through his body. He was close enough to see her breath hitch. She felt the heat too.
“Tristan. Please, call me Tristan.”
His heart pounded in his chest. This was the worst fucking beginning to the William Rhodes Trust’s ownership of Metro Media. A colossal problem waiting to happen. Tristan was desperately attracted to the woman he was ousting from the company.
He released Prim’s hand and turned toward his new employees. She folded herself back into her chair. He ignored the uncomfortable want that collected in his body and smiled out toward the people assembled in the conference room and via satellite link, but in the corner of his eye was Prim’s décolletage, the round tops of her breasts visible in the V of her silk blouse. A memory entered his mind of her bustier and his hands plucking those lovely, firm breasts from the top of that bustier and rolling her nipple in his mouth, sucking on Prim’s nipples until her head fell back and a deep moan rolled from her mouth and a tremble rushed through her body.
“Thank you for being here today. All of you.” Tristan turned toward Prim. He looked back at Metro’s employees. “What I’d like to discuss is the future of Metro Media. My future with you.”
Chapter Four
Prim escaped after the meeting to her plush office down the hall from the conference room. She dropped into the seat behind her desk. Her hands trembled as she dialed her best friend.
“So how’d it go with Mr. Rhodes?” Meg asked.
“I slept with my boss,” Prim whispered into her cell phone.
“You slept with a seventy-year-old man?”
“No, no, no,” Prim said. “Tristan Rhodes.”
“Tristan Rhodes? But I thought that William Rhodes bought Metro.”
