by Molly McLain
But there was also something she needed to know about me in return.
I moved quickly, gripping her waist and spinning her around to press her back against the wall just beside the elevator. I didn’t miss the look of surprise in her eyes in regards to my quick movements. Her breath hitched when I used my body to hold her in place and grind against her, making sure she could feel just what this playful banter between us was causing.
“My sweet Shay,” I whispered, my lips brushing against hers lightly with each word I spoke. “You should know something about me as well.”
I paused for only a moment waiting for her to catch up. At this point her eyes had taken on a glazed look as her breaths came out in more of pants.
I was getting to her, good.
“I’m a dedicated man. One that has very singular tastes, and when I find something I like, I devour it.” Her lids hung as her gaze focused solely on my lips. Trailing my tongue over my lower lip I watched as she sagged back against the wall and the weight of my body was the only thing holding her in place. “And, baby, you should also know that I am a starving man and you, sweetheart, have already given me a sample. Here or upstairs, wherever you choose, I plan to spend hours making sure not one inch of this delectable body of yours goes untouched.”
“Upstairs,” she whispered as her hand reached out and began slapping for the call button. She came nowhere close to it, but it never once stopped her from trying.
Using my arm to hold her against me, I backed away and pressed the button, and the ding of the arriving car echoed throughout the long corridor.
“Are you ready for this?” I asked as the elevator door slid open and I began moving in its direction.
She only nodded her head, never once moving her eyes off of mine.
The moment the elevator doors closed she was on me like a savage beast. Her hands were everywhere. Cupping my ass, gripping my erection. Her teeth sinking into my neck before sucking lightly to soothe the ache.
When the elevator arrived on the fifth floor we practically fell out of it as we stumbled to brace ourselves against the wall opposite it.
Thank goodness my room was only two doors down because at the rate we were going, I wasn’t sure we’d make it much further.
This time it was me fumbling to get the door to open as she began to unbutton my shirt. My tie was already loose and my jacket was pulled down my arms and tangled at my wrists, making it that much more difficult to maneuver the lock on my door.
Before my hotel door was shut behind us, Shay was already stepping out of her dress and moving back toward me with purpose. She was a woman on a mission and who was I to stop her?
I’d give her this time. I’d let her have control.
But after that, she needed to brace herself.
Chapter 10
Shay
My body ached, my legs were weak, but I wanted more.
I craved his touch.
I was lost in the way Gage commanded me, consumed me and made me beg for more.
And I did beg.
He had quickly learned my body, the things I loved and the things I became lost to. The way his hands conquered every inch of me and just when I thought I couldn’t take another minute of his pleasure, he proved me wrong.
My head was pressed into the mattress, my back arched, ass in the air as Gage drove into me from behind. I had never in my life felt this irrevocably lost. I was so aware of each thrust of his hips and he swiveled each time before pulling back out of me, only to repeat this movement over and over.
I was putty, yet I needed more.
“Harder,” I commanded knowing full well that he would give me what I needed.
For hours we had been going at it like two crazed sex fiends.
He was right, one taste was all it took to set forth this addiction we both felt.
Who needed food, or sleep? All I needed was Gage inside of me making me thrash with orgasm after beautiful orgasm.
“Oh yes,” I moaned as his hips began to move at a faster pace.
“You like that?” he asked in a deep throaty groan. “Do I feel good inside you?”
“Oh god, yes.” Good didn’t even begin to describe it.
“That’s it, baby,” he coaxed, “squeeze my cock.”
It was the words he used, mixed with the way he moved, that drove me over the edge. And just as I had so many times since we stumbled into his room, I fell apart once again. My body melted against the mattress as he continued to drive inside of me hard and fast, chasing his own orgasm.
My body shook with aftereffects as he began to come with a loud animalistic growl.
Both our bodies slick with sweat, he rolled to the side and took me with him.
We were spent. Sleep finally taking us both as we slowly curled into each other and let the exhaustion of the night consume us.
When I woke I ached in the most delicious ways.
And I found myself wanting to hit repeat and do each moment of the night before all over again.
A phone ringing gained my attention and I knew from the tone it wasn’t my own.
A deep annoyed groan rumbled from the man at my side and I couldn’t help but smile at his agitated tone.
“Your morning wake-up call?” I asked.
He mumbled something but I couldn’t hear the words as his face was buried in the pillow.
“Did you say something?” Knowing full well he had but finding humor in his dislike.
He turned his head to the side, fully exposing his face, and narrowed his eyes at me.
“Your father is very punctual,” he said, his nostrils flaring only making me laugh.
He reached out and pulled my body closer, moving his over mine. “Maybe we should do a video chat,” he said with a smirk. “Break the news to Daddy that you and I have shattered all the rules.”
I shrugged. “Why not,” I said, “the worst he can do is fire you and disown me. Then we can stay here in Vegas and become peddlers while we ravish each other by day and beg for dollars by night. We’ll live free and survive on the pleasures of one another.”
“The pleasure part sounds amazing,” he said before wrinkling his nose in protest. “Not real excited about the begging for dollars part.”
We both grew silent as he watched me carefully. Trailing his finger along my cheek he tilted his head to the side in a way that reminded me of someone deep in thought.
“Do you regret it?” I asked before I could stop myself.
“Absolutely not,” he said without hesitation, making the knot that had formed in my stomach uncoil.
“We’ll handle your father together and if he can’t understand that this has been a long time coming and be happy for us, then we’ll deal with it together.” I loved that he was acting as if he and I were now a team.
“I’m going to tell him that for once I finally got something I truly wanted and even he can’t take it away from me.” I wouldn’t allow it.
Forbidden
USA TODAY BESTSELLING AUTHOR
K.L. KREIG
Forbidden
Copyright © 2016 by K.L. Kreig
Published by K.L. Kreig
* * *
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to the author.
* * *
This book is a work of fiction. The characters, events, and places portrayed in this book are products of the author’s imagination and are either fictitious or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
* * *
Cover Art by Dana Leah
Editing by Nicole Bailey
Pub
lished in the United States of America.
Chapter 1
Decadence.
That’s the best adjective I have to describe Las Vegas.
From the moment you step foot off the plane, you’re assaulted with a cacophony of sights and sounds and smells that transport you to an entirely different world where it’s perfectly acceptable to slip into an entirely different persona.
Inhibitions are shed.
Temptations whisper to you by name.
Thoughts you never would have entertained before suddenly don’t sound so wrong, so hedonistic. You justify, then justify some more until your principles are squashed under the unerring and never-ending allure of gluttony chasing after you.
“What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas” was coined for a very good reason.
I should know.
I’ve been here all of forty-eight hours and I’m fighting its glamorous, blinding pull to the death. I’m battling hard, giving it my all, but I’m worried tonight will show me it’s all been for naught. And I’m equally worried there will be no turning back if I give in to what’s been not so subtly dangled in front of me for the past two days.
The thought makes my stomach flip and my hand shake. I momentarily abort my task. Guileless blue eyes stare back at me as I draw in a deep, cleansing breath then try again.
Feeling steadier this time, I follow the inner edge of my lips, carefully tracing the dip of the Cupid’s bow before filling them with a matching burgundy matte. I press them together to evenly smooth around the stain.
The color is muted but intense.
It’s seductive, alluring.
Bewitching, even. A far cry from the subtle shades I generally wear, but that’s the whole point of tonight, isn’t it?
To be somebody else. Let reservations go. Slip into the skin of a wanton woman for a while. Try it on. Test it out.
I’ve played a lot of roles in my life, but none like I’m playing tonight. I’m flirting with danger. Gassing the fiery flames of perversion that have been licking at me with wicked subtlety since the moment I stepped foot into the dry desert.
What are you doing, Willow? Are you really going to encourage this? Is this what you really want?
I don’t know, I answer the flushed woman staring back at me.
Satisfied with the sharp contrast against my pale skin, along with the rest of my understated, classy makeup, I stand from the vanity and stride to the full-length mirror in the bedroom, giving myself one last anxious perusal.
My hand goes to my middle, pressing against it like I’ll magically be able to calm the nerves flaring like rockets inside. It doesn’t work and I take a slow, measured breath in and out instead.
Tonight is New Year’s Eve, a holiday I’ve always thought overhyped. I’ve usually been one to stay home, eat popcorn until I get hulls stuck in my gums, and watch the ball drop on Dick Clark’s New Year’s Rockin’ Eve, versus attending parties, wishing I had someone to kiss me at midnight, or dodging drunk drivers on the way home.
But tonight I won’t be sitting on the couch in my small two-bedroom duplex that I share with my best friend, in flannels and fuzzy slippers wondering what the next year of my life will bring me. Tonight I’m celebrating the start of a new year in a place of sin and overindulgence with my boyfriend of six months.
Correction. Not boyfriend. Fiancé.
The gleam of an ostentatious round diamond snags my eye and I smile. I really am engaged to the mighty, elusive Shaw Mercer.
I knew when he hired me to be his girlfriend that he was powerful. All CEOs are, but it wasn’t his title that was impressive, it was his commanding presence. The way he carried himself. How he sat so still and sure, like he was holding court but you weren’t decreed to pay homage, you did it because he was simply mesmerizing and you wanted to. Shaw Mercer has this irresistible magnetism most people are helpless to deny, including me.
The bright lights of a city that’s a veritable Disneyland for adults wink at me in the mirror’s reflection and I can’t help but grin ridiculously. I’m insanely, stupidly happy. Not only is this my first time to Las Vegas, where I’ll be attending a fancy soirée, but I’ll be ringing in the new year with the man I love. The one I tried like hell not to fall in love with. But resisting the infamous playboy of Seattle’s charms—correction, former playboy—was just futile so I finally gave up.
And tonight, as we ring in our first new year together, we’ll be attending a posh charity gala that will no doubt cater to the rich and famous, given the hefty price per ticket.
Rock stars. MMA champions. Politicians. Actors. Influential families and business leaders. The upper crust of the country’s elite will be here. It’s surreal that I will be, too.
“Willow,” Shaw bellows from the downstairs living room of our opulent suite. “If you don’t hurry up we will not only be fashionably late we’ll miss the party entirely. Get your sweet ass down here before I come redden it.”
That’s supposed to be a threat?
Dawdling a little longer, I laugh when he starts counting backward from ten.
“It’s worth the wait, I promise,” I yell.
Padding over to the bed, I take a seat on the edge, slipping into the Manolo Blahniks Shaw insisted he buy me just for tonight’s event. The clear jewels around the ankle strap are sexy as hell and really stand out against the inky tones of my floor-length gown.
I refused to try the dress on for him in advance, even when he attempted to strong-arm me. I wanted to surprise him, and honestly, when a man sees you in a wickedly sexy gown for the first time, the second time just isn’t the same, no matter how he tells you differently.
I want to make him breathless. Lose that tight-ass control he holds to. Even if it’s only seconds at a time, they are seconds I secretly relish. And I think this bold, yet chic dress that shows my assets perfectly will do just the trick.
Grabbing my clutch, I throw the lipstick inside and make my way down the stairs, holding up my long skirt with the fingers of one hand, careful to grip the handrail with the other during my descent down the windy staircase.
Shaw is standing at the bottom, waiting patiently, but I pay attention to the placement of my feet, not him, lest I end up in a broken heap at the bottom. I stop on the last stair, Shaw’s six foot two imposing frame keeping me from going any further. Then I wait for it.
The tingly explosions that will bathe me when his eyes sweep the length of my body.
The dampness that will settle between my thighs when he lingers on my breasts.
The buzzing of my nipples when I see just how crazed he is for me.
That heady feeling of being so desired by this man it’s as if he needs to consume me now or die. It never gets old, the way he looks at me. Never.
And he doesn’t fail me.
His eyes crawl over me, dragging over every inch.
He’s languid. Deliberate. As if he has all the time in the world when only moments ago he was threatening to spank me.
And when he fixes his blistering gaze to mine again, the hunger etched in every fleck of his brilliant blue eyes makes me want to forget the party altogether. I’d rather spend all night being owned on every surface of this suite.
“Jesus fucking Christ, Willow,” he says, his voice pained, his attention still running all over me.
“What’s the matter?” I breathe, my eyes following his, stopping where they are.
The slit in this midnight black wrap-around georgette dress comes up my left thigh, nearly meeting my crotch. The skirt is light and flowy. It has ruffles down the inside right edge. But the thing that has his attention is the neckline. Both the front and the back plunge so far there’s no possible way to wear a bra, so I’ve secured my ample breasts to the inside of the fabric with about three packages of double-sided tape.
“You’re not wearing that,” he tells me in that authoritative timbre of his. The one he thinks means: submit. But all it really does is fuel my fire to push back. To challenge. To
see how far I can make him bend before he snaps. That’s the place I like to drive him to because the ride is wild and bumpy. It’s exhilarating to test him before his masterful authority rules mine once again.
“Pretty sure I am.”
His heated stare skates through the valley of my breasts, up my throat. Lingers on my mouth so long it makes me soak the slip of fabric between my thighs. Then they lock with mine and I stop breathing.
Reckless desire.
Scorching need.
Unmistakable love.
They all crash into me at once like the leading edge of a storm, weakening me everywhere.
Shaw steps into me, his hands roughly grabbing my hips. With the extra height from my shoes and the step, I’m taller, but physical height doesn’t matter. It never has between us. I could be ten feet tall and Shaw’s very aura would tower over me.
“I’m afraid you’re not,” he growls.
I smile.
He doesn’t.
I smile bigger.
“I mean it, Willow. You’re a fucking wet dream in that dress and I don’t want to have to spend the next twenty years of my life in prison for involuntary manslaughter.”
“I could say the same thing about you. You’re obnoxiously good looking,” I tell him, throwing my arms around his neck. The way his muscles flex underneath his tailor-made silky black tux has my mouth watering. He looks sharp. Dominant. A force to be reckoned with.
He leans forward. Grazes his nose along my bare collarbone, up the strained tendon in my neck until a shiver runs through me. “You are incredibly sexy,” he hums in my ear, turning my insides liquidy.
Skimming his lips along my jawbone, he nips and nibbles his way to my mouth trying to kiss me, but I back away.
He scowls.
I laugh.
His scowl deepens.
“Kiss me,” he demands, yanking my hips toward him.
