Trainwreck 2 (Trainwreck #2)

by Nelle L'Amour

  “Huh?”

  Before I could get my mouth to close, he yanked my arms behind my back with such force a painful pull ripped across my shoulder blades. He gripped both my wrists in one hand.

  “What are you doing, you crazy asshole?” I cried out, trying impossibly to free myself.

  “You’re going to pay, my sweet, for calling me that.”

  I swallowed hard, still writhing.

  With his spare hand, he began binding my hands together with the stocking. I felt him tie a tight knot. I couldn’t even wiggle my fingers. They were bound together so tightly I was sure my circulation had been cut off.

  “Untie me, you bastard! You can’t do this to me.” I wheeled around. A diabolical smirk played on his gorgeous face. God damn him! He could.

  “I’m going to call security,” I threatened.

  Jaime bent over with laughter. “Oh, so you’re going to dial the room phone with your nose?” He lightly flicked the tip of my nose with his thumb. “And then you’re going to unlock the door with that talented mouth of yours and let Mr. Security see you tied up and naked?” He playfully traced the outline of my lips.

  I screwed up my face.

  “You’re so cute when you do that.”

  Damn him!

  The ring of my cell phone sounded from inside my handbag.

  “I need to get that. It could be some kind of emergency.”

  The ringing stopped. And then it picked up again.

  “Mr. Zander, would you be kind enough to retrieve my phone, press answer, and then put it to my ear.”

  “Say please.”

  “Please,” I grumbled. “It’s in the zipper compartment of my purse.”

  With a wicked grin, he did as asked. My monstrous bag was parked on the dresser across from the beds. My eyes stayed fixed on him as he strode over to it, soaking in his broad shoulders, rippled back, and boyishly narrow hips. His beauty made his painful scars almost invisible.

  He found the phone easily and headed back to me with it in his hand. It kept ringing.

  He hovered over me. “Tell whoever it is you’re tied up.”

  That was a fact.

  I gazed at the screen. It was Kevin.

  Jaime pressed answer and then held the phone to my ear.

  “Hi, Kev. Is everything okay?” My voice faltered.

  “More than okay. I’m just checking in on you. You sound strange. Are you okay?”

  “Yeah. I’m just a little tied up at the moment.” Did I really just say that?

  Jaime rewarded me with a chaste kiss on top of my head.

  “Did everything go smoothly with Madame Paulette’s funeral?”

  “Yes. It was a beautiful service. Thanks so much for helping.”

  “Say good-bye,” Jaime breathed against my neck, his lips skimming my sensitive skin. He simultaneously draped his free arm over my shoulder, crossing my chest until he was groping my tender breasts. He began to massage them. A delicious chill skated down my spine, erasing the sad memory of my beloved Madame Paulette.

  “When are you coming back?” asked Kevin.

  “Um, uh, tomorrow. I’m going to stay in Paris an extra day.”

  Jaime rewarded me this time with a squeeze of each nipple. They instantly grew into pointed crowns as he twirled them between his forefinger and thumb. My temperature was rising. He tweaked them again, sending tingles to my core. I moaned into the phone; Kevin heard it.

  “Is Jaime there?”

  I gulped. I couldn’t hide anything from Kevin.

  “Yeah.”

  “Good. He told me about Vivien hitting on him. He’s a good guy. Paris is the City of Love. You should let him fuck your brains out.”

  Kev never held back. Never. “I’m thinking about it.”

  “Oh, Glorious, I wish you could see me. I’m doing a happy dance.”

  I could actually picture Kevin doing a little jig. Not wanting to dwell on Jaime, I changed the subject. “And what about you?”

  “I’m still in New York…”

  “With…”

  “Ray. He’s fucking amazing.”

  Holy shit! This entangled business relationship was growing more complicated by the minute. Maybe I should end it.

  Jaime nibbled my earlobe. “Say good-bye,” he breathed again. “And then say hello to this.” He dragged his thick erection along my backside. His heat penetrated my skin, sending embers to the pit of my stomach. Wetness pooled between my legs. Fuck. He was making me lose control again.

  “Kev, I’ve got to go,” I stammered.

  Kevin let out a laugh. “Don’t let me keep you from sightseeing.”

  The only sightseeing in my near future was the monument between Jaime’s legs.

  As we exchanged good-byes, Jaime tossed the phone across the room into my open handbag. “Now, spread your legs and bend over,” he ordered.

  I did as he asked, pressing my head to the soft mattress. My hands remained tied up behind me. They were beginning to go numb.

  Standing behind me, Mr. Impossible groped my butt cheeks and then kneaded them. “This must be the finest view in all of Paris,” he purred. “You’ve got one magnificent ass.”

  Before I could say a word, he rubbed the head of his cock up and down the crack of my butt. Though I didn’t feel much sensation, it was strangely erotic. A hand moved between my thighs, his fingers finding their way to my aching clit. He stroked my sensitive folds and then rubbed circles around my nub. Now, that I felt.

  “You’re so wet for me, angel”

  A muffled moan escaped my throat.

  “I’m going to fuck your beautiful ass. Have you ever been fucked this way before?”

  “No,” I managed with a shake of my head.

  “Good. You’re going to love it.”

  He rubbed his cock along my wet folds. It didn’t stay there long—just long enough to bathe in my hot juices. His fingers released my clit, and the next thing I knew his hands, one of them warm and wet, were spreading my ass cheeks apart. I felt his hot crown nudging at my opening. I wasn’t sure about this. With my head still pressed against the bed, I squeezed my eyes shut. A battle between fear and desire raged between my legs. Every muscle in my body tensed.

  “Relax, Gloria. This is going to hurt at first, but once I’m inside you’re going to wish I never left.”

  I took a deep breath, preparing myself for his invasion.

  He penetrated me and I winced. Then, slowly he began to fill me, sliding his lubricated cock straight to my center. I clenched my weeping pussy. It hurt like hell, but not as much as I thought it would. I kept on taking deep breaths as he stretched me, his warm hands splayed on my hips to hold me steady. When I began to relax, the pain morphed into tortuous pleasure. The fullness of his slick length inside my virgin hole sent a blast of erotic sensations through my body that I wasn’t expecting.

  “Jesus, you’re so hot and tight. Are you okay?”

  I simply nodded into the bed. My brain had forgotten how to send words to my voice box. All I could think about was him dominating me this way.

  He caressed my ass. “Good, angel. Keep breathing.” He slowly withdrew and then pushed forward, again slow and deep. I groaned, growing fonder of the snugness. His pelvic bones slammed against me as he repeated the movement and picked up his pace. Moaning, I found myself rocking back and forth with his thrusts, each one more intense. Each one more divine. The burning fire inside me was making me delirious. I was loving it.

  “This will make it even more pleasurable.” His fingers moved back to my hungry clit, and he began to rub it vigorously. A scream escaped my throat. His other hand clutched my left butt cheek, still steadying me as he dragged his length up and down my tender hole.

  “Oh, angel,” he groaned, his breathing harsh. “You feel fucking incredible. So wet and hot everywhere. How does it feel for you?”

  I was fucking losing it. The hot tingles between my legs mingled with the fiery friction of his thrusts. The insane pressure i
nside me was building like a rockslide. He was doing it again—sending me over a cliff. Making me lose control.

  “I’m going to come!” I cried out.

  “Not yet!” he barked.

  Oh, God. I was so close to the edge. How was I going to hang on? And then a new mind-blowing sensation blew through me. Two slick fingers plunged into my other opening and began sliding up and down, hitting my hot spot each time. He was finger fucking and butt fucking me in tandem. I began to whimper. I thought I would pass out right on the bed. Oh, please let me come!

  As I raced toward orgasm, Jaime continued to work me on both ends. His panting accelerated with his relentless thrusts. My body was convulsing. I could hold on no longer. The pressure was so intense I was actually seeing stars.

  “Please!” I pleaded, lifting my head from the bed and twisting it so that I could see his face. His expression was sexy and savage. His tousled hair fell into his hooded eyes; sweat beads dusted his skin, and his parted mouth curved in a dangerous pout. His lustful eyes met mine.

  “Now, Gloria. Fall apart, now!” he shouted.

  I screamed as everything inside me broke loose. Waves of ecstasy wracked my body, spasm after spasm. He shoved his two fingers and his cock deep inside me one more time, and then with a roar, he climaxed violently inside me. Hot cum seeped into my backside while juices seeped out the depths of my core. His intense vibrations collided with mine. With one more thrust, this one softer, he finished off his orgasm and made me come with fury again. Holy fuck!

  I buried my head back into the bed as he eased out of me. Damn him. He was right. I was bereft. I missed his fullness already.

  He untied my hands, and after wiggling my fingers to bring back sensation, I just let my arms hang lose by the sides of my legs like a rag doll. He ran his warm velvety tongue down my spine and then back up, sending a rush of goose bumps to my already prickling skin.

  He gave my ass a playful slap. “You’re free to go back to LA now, angel.”

  I wasn’t going anywhere.

  Paris was for lovers.

  After a delicious, hot shower in which Mr. Controlling fucked Ms. Losing It yet again, we towel dried each other and put on the fluffy terry cloth robes that came with room. Jaime ordered room service. Over scrumptious flakey croissants and steaming café au lait that we savored around a small round table, he told me what he had planned for the day. It was going to be a leisurely day of strolling around Paris and taking in a few sights and museums. And of course, a stop for lunch and a glass of wine at a neighborhood café. I told him that I wanted to make a stop at our Paris flagship store on the Champs-Elysées in the late afternoon. I wanted to check it out and above all personally thank the store manager, Sandrine—a good friend—for helping me with Madame Paulette’s funeral arrangements. That was only yesterday yet it felt like eons ago. A wave of sadness swept over me. I was going to miss her. Jaime readily agreed to the visit, telling me that he had some personal stuff to take care of too, including a client.

  “You have a client in Paris?” I asked, arching my brows.

  “Angel, I have clients all over the world.”

  Girlfriends?

  He hit me with a roguish grin. “She happens to be one of my favorites.”

  She? “What does she look like?” Wait! Why was I asking such an inane question? What the hell did it matter?

  Jaime twisted his mouth into a sly smile. “She’s as hot as they come…”

  Cringe.

  “And gay.” He smirked.

  Bastard. He knew how to get to me.

  He flicked a crumb of my croissant off my lips. “What are you planning to wear today?”

  “Black leggings and an oversized heavy cashmere sweater.” I wanted to be comfortable, but the sweats I’d picked out earlier were way too casual for running around Paris.

  “Sounds perfect, Matchy-matchy girl.”

  Polishing off his croissant, he stood up and strode back to my suitcase. Now what? One by one, he cherry-picked through my scanty lace bras and bikinis. A saucy smile played on his face as he examined each and every piece of the sexy lingerie. Mortification shot through me.

  “What are doing?” My voice was shrill.

  “What does it look like? I’m choosing your underwear.”

  “No way.” This was going too far. I leaped up from my chair and stomped over to him. I snatched the matching leopard-print bra and thong out of his hands and flung them back into my suitcase.

  “Come on, Gloria. Call it research. I’m getting a really good feel for the Gloria’s Secret line…and for the woman behind it.”

  Wrinkling my nose, I looked him straight in the eyes. “And what does your research tell you about me?”

  He nuzzled my sensitive neck. The sensation forced my head to arch and my eyelids to lower. I felt my robe sliding off my shoulders.

  “Well, Mr. Zander, tell me.” My body was heating up.

  He slipped off my robe and purred in my ear. “That you’re dripping with desire.”

  My breath hitched. He was right! I wanted him! Again!

  “And I’m going to prove my theory.”

  In one swift move, he scooped me up in his arms and tossed me onto the bed. Disrobing himself, he crashed upon me with all his weight, and in an instant, his cock was pounding inside me. Our breathing was haggard. My climax was building with the brutality and speed of an avalanche. I couldn’t believe how fast he could make me come. With one final thrust, he spurted into me as I juddered around him.

  “Holy fuck!” we moaned in unison.

  Our sweat-slicked, heaving bodies stayed still in that position for several long minutes, allowing our breathing to calm down.

  “Paris awaits us, angel,” Jaime said brightly after smacking my lips with a kiss.

  “Have you decided on what undies I should wear?” I asked coyly, threading my fingers through his tousled hair.

  “Yeah…none.”

  My jaw slackened.

  “I want to imagine you just the way you are all day long.”

  The feeling was mutual. My eyes never strayed from his gorgeous body, all golden cream and taut planes and angles, as he slipped on his faded jeans and tucked in his cock. His glorious, just-fucked cock.

  We spent the day leisurely meandering through Paris, staying close to the Left Bank. Neither of us wanted to risk the chance of running into Victor, who never strayed from the Right Bank and would likely take his business meeting at The InterContinental. The weather, like in New York, was surprisingly mild for this time of year. Global warming, I supposed. I couldn’t complain, however, about the pleasant temperature and sunny sky.

  We took in several of the famous Rive Gauche monuments—The Panthéon, The Sorbonne, Notre Dame to name a few. To be honest, I had never really gone sightseeing in Paris before. My trips, always rushed, were strictly for business—be it to catch a fashion show, explore new trends, or visit the Champs-Elysées store. Having this god-like tour guide beside me added to both the beauty and my enjoyment of the City of Light. As we strolled along the Seine, arm in arm, en route to The Louvre, I couldn’t help noticing how many female heads he turned. I stole a glance at his face and could understand why. His profile with its strong dimpled chin, manly straight nose, and thick-lashed eyes was gorgeous. He still hadn’t shaven—the thicker than usual layer of stubble making him even sexier. My heart fluttered. No man had ever had this effect on me. He had made me fall apart. And now, I was falling for him. In just one week, this man had captured me, both physically and emotionally. He was in my bloodstream, bringing me to new levels of sensuality and self-awareness I’d never known. Unable to get enough of him, I was worried about working with him professionally. The uncertainty of the future and the challenges ahead sent a shiver skittering down my spine. I had to admit—I was afraid of getting hurt, and the threat that both Victor and Vivien posed didn’t help. I wished I could share everything with Madame Paulette. She’d know what to do. Her last words to me swirled around in m
y head. “It eez better to have loved…” I still wasn’t sure what I felt. Just enjoy the moment, Gloria, I told myself, taking a deep breath as we approached the majestic Louvre.

  Experiencing The Louvre with Jaime was something else and not just because every female tourist from eighteen to eighty had eyes for him as if he were some rare Greek statue. As we glided from one gallery of paintings to another, Jaime, who was truly more beautiful than any of the museum’s god-like male sculptures, came alive like I’d never seen before. His blue eyes glistened, and his voice was animated as he explained the significance and details of each masterpiece.

  “How do you know so much about art?” I asked him, in awe of his knowledge. It actually turned me on, but I wasn’t going to share that with him.

  “My father.” His voice was coated with melancholy. “Though he never fulfilled his dream of coming to Paris, he took me to museums in Los Angeles and had tons of art books that he shared with me. He would play games with me—make me guess the name of a painter or race with him to find a particular painting. Or show me tricks.”

  “What kind of tricks?” I asked as we stood before the Mona Lisa.

  “Look at the Mona Lisa’s eyes. They’ll follow yours.”

  I gazed at the painting and shifted my eyes to the right. Sure enough, the iconic beauty’s eyes followed mine. “Wow! That’s incredible!”

  We continued to study the hypnotic painting.

  “Who were your father’s favorite painters?” I asked.

  Jaime smiled wistfully. “He loved so many, but his favorite was Van Gogh.”

  “Why Van Gogh?”

  “I think he connected to his tortured life…his inner demons.”

  The paintings I’d seen in both his office space and hotel suite flashed into my head. They had actually reminded me a lot of Van Gogh’s work, with their vivid colors and turbulent strokes.

  Seeking confirmation, I queried, “Those paintings in your office and at the hotel…did your father paint them?”

  Jaime’s smile widened. Pride washed over his face. “Yes. I’m glad you noticed them. When he died, I secretly gathered all his paintings and hid them in storage until I could display them. One day, when I have time, I’m going to exhibit them. I want my father to have the glory he deserved.”