by Vivien Sparx
“No,” Lucien said. “I was just admiring you. You’re stunning.”
The compliment was so unexpected – so contrary to his dark expression – that for a moment she was shocked. And then the significance of it swept through her like a cool gentle breeze, leaving her arms covered in goose bumps. She didn’t want to be charmed by this man, but…
Angelica blushed and looked away for a moment to catch her breath. “Thank you.”
“How do you feel?”
Angelica fidgeted nervously. “I feel like everyone is staring at me.”
“They’re not,” Lucien assured her. “They’re staring at me.”
He ordered wine and then a tall, solidly built man in his early fifties appeared at the table.
“Lance.”
“Mr Darrow,” Lucien stood and shook hands briefly. “Glad you could make it.”
The big man growled. There was a sense of barely-suppressed hostility behind his eyes. Lucien introduced Angelica. John Darrow nodded and both men sat.
John Darrow glared across the table as he and Lucien measured each other. He was a big broad-shouldered man with hair that was once black, but quickly turning grey, cropped close and neat. He had a bull neck, and the tanned ruddy complexion of a man who enjoyed the outdoors.
Angelica sat quietly but there was a tiny frown on her face. She didn’t recognize this man, but there was something familiar about the name…
“You want to order first, or just go at it now, Lance?” the big man growled.
Lucien sat back in his seat again, calm, relaxed and unflappably elegant. “Let’s order first.”
He ordered salmon and salad for himself and Angelica.
“Steak,” John Darrow said to the young waiter. “And I want it cooked until the chef gets upset,” he added. The waiter jotted a quick note but Darrow grabbed his wrist before he turned away. “Son, if my steak turns up on the plate red and still bloody, you’ll go back to the kitchen in the same condition. Understand?”
The waiter scurried away and John Darrow turned both barrels of his anger on to Lucien.
“Leave my airline alone,” he said.
Airline! Darrow Air. Suddenly Angelica realized why the name was so familiar to her. She had spent a full week researching the company as part of her bank’s analysis team; completing an assessment of the airline’s assets and debts, the company’s financial structure, and beginning to do a break-up analysis of the airline’s business routes around the country.
Lucien stared back at the big man. “I won’t do that, Mr Darrow. Firstly, it’s not your company. It’s a public company – and I happen to own a significant amount of the stock.”
Darrow glared. “That’s my name on those planes, Lance. I know every man who works for me. Hell, I even know the names of their wives and kids. I built that airline from the ground up.”
“And now you’ll get to watch me pull it apart,” Lucien said bluntly.
There was a simmering silence. Darrow’s hands balled into frustrated fists. “I know you own eighteen percent of the stock. I also know you’re planning to file a formal bid for a majority.”
“It’s twenty-two percent.”
“I don’t care,” Darrow said. “What you’re doing isn’t right. It isn’t moral.” He shook his head.
Lucien frowned as if he’d heard an unfamiliar word. “Moral? This isn’t about morals. It’s a business deal, Darrow. Nothing more.”
The waiter arrived nervously with their meals – and made it back to the kitchen unscathed.
“What do you want, Lance? How much do you want for your block of shares? Name your price and I’ll buy it all back from you.”
“You can’t,” Lucien said. “You don’t have the capital to buy anything. In your present financial position your lines of credit are so over-extended that you couldn’t buy a stapler.”
Darrow made a curt gesture of impatience. “That’s temporary. We’re just about to get clearance to open up six new routes to the west coast. I can write you a note…”
Lucien shook his head. There was an enigmatic half-smile hovering on his lips. “Those routes are not guaranteed…”
Darrow flinched as though he had been punched in the heart. He stared at Lucien for long painful moments.
“I’m not here to sell my shares, Darrow. I’m here to buy yours,” Lucien said. “I’m offering $21 a share.”
“You son of a bitch. You’ve got a nerve.”
“No. I’ve got money.”
John Darrow threw down his knife and fork and stabbed an angry finger at Lucien. “I know all about the great Lucifer Lance. I do my homework, and what I’ve read about you is enough to make me puke. You don’t care about tradition, or history, or values. You’re a junker – plain and simple. Every company you take over ends up stripped bare and thrown on the trash heap.”
“You’re right,” Lucien nodded. “I don’t care for dinosaurs. What I make, Mr Darrow, is profits. Now I’m going to buy Darrow Air, and I’ll do it the easy way or the hard way. If we do it the easy way you end up a very rich man. If we do it the hard way however…” Lucien spread his hands.
“Then I’ll fight you in the courts!”
There was a strained silence between the men and Angelica looked up just in time to see Lucien’s expression transform before her eyes.
It seemed that his entire face changed, from handsome calmness to the most grotesque malevolent cruelty she had ever seen. It lasted only a moment – gone within the blinking of her eyes – but what she saw there was seen and felt by John Darrow also, and although Lucien’s voice was calm and measured, his expression now veiled, the big man was visibly shaken.
Darrow kicked back his chair. “I… I need fresh air,” he said gruffly. “I’ll be back when I get this stench of corruption out of my nostrils.” He nodded at Angelica, threw his balled napkin onto the table and hurried out through the front door of the restaurant.
Lucien sipped his wine.
“Go to the bathroom,” he told Angelica. “Remove your bra and your panties, then come back.”
Angelica paused, but then she had a vivid flash of memory, recalling the sting of his hand on her bottom. She stood slowly and crossed to the ladies restroom like a sleepwalker.
The bathroom was empty and Angelica leaned on the vanity basin to support her trembling legs as she stared at herself in the mirror.
Was she really going to do this?
In the reflection she could clearly see the lace of her bra through the sheer fabric of the blouse. She cringed at the mere thought of walking back through the crowded restaurant. She might as well be naked.
She couldn’t do it.
Could she?
What option did she have? The time to make her choice was long gone. She already knew enough about Lucien Lance to know he would be demanding. He had warned her often enough.
Angelica went into a stall and, with trembling, fumbling fingers, she peeled off her panties and stuffed them into her purse. Then she unhooked her bra and slid the straps down off her arms.
Angelica stood in front of the bathroom mirror and stared at her reflection under the harsh fluorescent lighting again. She gasped out loud. The shape of her breasts was clear; the stiff jut of her hardened nipples impossible to ignore. She could see the darkened reddish shadow of her areolas, and she trembled – not only with anxiety and adrenalin.
Like a deep and dangerous undercurrent ripping below the water’s surface, there was a torrent of delicious erotic arousal coursing in her veins. It was a heady, reckless sensation of wanton excitement and she felt an unmistakable warmth between her thighs, caught the scent of her own musky arousal.
She recalled again the feel of Lucien’s hands and mouth teasing and tasting her body the night before and she recognized how desperately she craved the sensations of the Devil’s Touch again. If sensual pleasure was a drug, Angelica had become addicted.
With a dizzy flourish of abandon, Angelic left her bra hanging from th
e handle of the rest room door and held her breath as she crossed the restaurant, her stomach full of butterflies, her palms damp.
Lucien Lance and John Darrow were glaring at each other across the table when Angelica returned. The air hummed, electric with the tension between the men. Angelica sat quietly to the side and took a long drink of her wine. The two men were like big bucks, their horns locked in a battle of wills with neither of them willing to give an inch.
Angelica caught the raised eyebrow of an elderly man at a nearby table and she realized he was ogling her. Then another man was staring at her. And another.
She wanted to hide under the table, so acute was the heat of her embarrassment. Angelica knew her nerve would not hold much longer.
Then John Darrow shot her a furtive glance, his eyes gleaming beneath hooded lids as his gaze was drawn down to the bold press of her breasts.
For a moment the big man was distracted and Angelica seized her opportunity. It was the first time all evening she had held either man’s attention.
She set her wine glass down on the table, folded her hands and turned to John Darrow, smiling sweetly.
“Mr Darrow, your airline has a break up value far below the generous offer Mr Lance has made you for your block of shares. Industry estimates currently value your stock at just $17.50, and not a penny more. If I were you I’d accept Lance Corporation’s offer right now because, as I’ve quickly come to learn, Lucifer Lance gets everything he wants.”
And before John Darrow could respond, Angelica reached boldly into her purse and handed Lucien her lace panties.
“Everything he wants.”
* * *
Lucien waited until the limousine was heading back through city traffic before he finally turned from the view out of the window to face Angelica sitting quietly beside him.
“You are a surprise,” he said softly.
Angelica turned her face to his. She had been lost in her own thoughts, still trembling with an after-rush of adrenalin. Her mind was playing over the events at the restaurant – and her body was strung taut, anticipating the reward Lucien might offer her when they reached the penthouse.
She was desperately aroused.
Displaying herself had been acutely embarrassing, but now, she admitted to herself shamefully, the wicked voyeuristic moment had been an intense thrill that had compounded the ache of her need.
She wondered, without any real sense of urgency, what that said about her. The real her.
Angelica smiled at Lucien impishly. “Then I hope you enjoy surprises.”
Lucien grinned. “When it comes to business I hate surprises. It means I am unprepared. I always like to know what’s going to happen before anyone else. In matters of pleasure? Yes, I like surprises very much – especially pretty blonde ones.”
He leaned in and kissed her gently. Angelica’s mouth opened, her lips soft and greedy for him. She felt the tip of his tongue flutter inside her mouth and she sucked hungrily. Then Lucien brushed his hand over her neck and down to cup the weight of one breast. Angelica groaned, and it was a deep restless sound in her throat. She arched her back, presenting herself to him, pushing her hardened nipple against his palm. Lucien broke the kiss and his eyes were dark with lust. Still kneading Angelica’s breast through the wispy fabric of her blouse, he turned to inch down the tinted petition screen that separated them from the chauffeur.
“Edward, drive faster,” he said, and there was a breathless urgency in his voice.
* * *
They were barely inside the door before Lucien forced Angelica up against the entryway hall.
One of his hands circled her throat, compelling her chin to lift, making her mouth vulnerable to his, and he took her lips with a smoldering hunger, crushing himself against her.
His tongue thrust deep inside her mouth like a stabbing spear and Angelica felt pinned; helpless. Hot flames flickered through her body as his tongue probed. She threw her arms around his neck, twisting her fingers into his hair, her hips writhing under the insistent press of him.
He reached down between their bodies with his free hand and found the hem of her skirt then tugged it up towards her waist, exposing her silken thighs inch by inch. He could feel the heat of her femininity as his hand drew closer; as the skirt was lifted higher.
Angelica moaned. Her hips began to buck against him. She felt Lucien’s fingers tighten around her throat and she closed her eyes and cried out, “Yes! God yes!”
Lucien growled, the sound like a rumble of thunder close in her ear. His grip around her throat inched tighter and she took her hands from around his neck and clutched his wrist to encourage him.
Suddenly, the full force of submission was exploding visions of unimaginable erotica in the dark recesses of Angelica’s mind. Feeling Lucien pressed so heavily against her, the constricting grip of his hand around her throat and the tantalizing reach of his fingers between her thighs, was igniting deep parts of her psyche. They were places she never knew existed; thoughts and sensations so shockingly arousing – a part of her soul revealed.
Finally Lucien’s fingers found the slick damp heat of her sex. He cupped her in his hand and she ground herself against him, wanton and wild.
Lucien’s eyes glinted in surprise and pleasure, and there was a raw animalistic thrill in his expression. He would never have guessed that beneath this sweet blonde exterior lurked the inklings of a masochistic streak.
He dragged Angelica across to the dining table and laid her on her back on the polished timber surface. He glared down at her; her chest was heaving, panting for breath, making the swell of her breasts rise and fall. Her legs fell open, the heels of her shoes pushed against the backrests of two chairs. Lucien stood between her parted thighs and the hardness of his arousal was like a sword.
He leaned over her and hooked his fingers into the neckline of her blouse, ripping the garment open so that the delicate jeweled buttons flew free, exposing her breasts to his touch. He raked fingernails down her body, from her shoulders to her abdomen and Angelica moaned and arched her back off the table.
Then, with exquisite slowness, he lowered his head to the damp silken mound of curls at the base of her stomach and inhaled her perfume.
He dropped to his knees between the chairs and used the stiffened tip of his tongue to taste her. The folds of Angelica’s sex were thick and pink, blossomed like the delicate petals of an orchid. He licked at the moistness and Angelica’s whole body went into seizure. She kicked out with one of her legs, clenching her jaw so tight the corded muscles in her neck stood proud. She screwed her eyes tightly shut and her hands groped for the back of Lucien’s head.
“Don’t tease me. Please!” she cried out, and there was true pain in her voice, as though each moment of waiting was an unspeakable torture she could not bare.
When she felt Lucien’s fingertip slide easily inside her, and sensed him twisting his wrist, she relaxed, welcoming the pressure as he began to press down within her. It was happening at last. Lucifer Lance would give her the Devil’s Touch.
Angelica emptied her mind and concentrated her full attention on the sensations rising from low down in her body. Her senses were so heightened that each caress and graze of Lucien’s fingers seemed amplified a hundred times over. She felt the rippling vibrations as he massaged and lightly stroked the slick folds close around her nub and she breathlessly anticipated the touch of his tongue and the euphoria of release it would bring.
She felt his hot breath against her inner thighs. She felt his head begin to move.
Every muscle in her body clenched.
Waited.
But it did not come.
Instead, Lucien held her there, trembling, aching and mindless with her desire for long seconds.
“Tomorrow you will shave,” he told her. “The sensations you are about to feel are even stronger when your body is smooth.”
Angelica nodded, gulped for air. “Yes,” she hissed. “Anything!”
And then
– finally – she felt the Devil’s Touch.
If anything, Angelica’s heightened anticipation made the devastating eruption of her release even more powerful than the first night. The molten heat seemed to melt her bones, and the light behind her closed eyes flared bright as the sun. She screamed, overcome by a surging wave of rapture – then everything dulled, fading to black.
In the few seconds it took before Angelica’s eyes fluttered open again, Lucien had stripped down to his trousers.
Angelica blinked drowsily, her thoughts blurred, her mind slowly returning into focus. Her eyes locked on to Lucien’s bare chest as he stood before her. She saw the way the muscle in his arms and shoulder rippled beneath the tanned skin and, unbelievably, she felt her body re-awakening with a slow smolder of feminine ache.
She reached out for him but he moved lightly and then his hands were on her hips, sliding her off the table and turning her.
“Bend over,” Lucien’s voice was thick.
She did.
Pressing her face and her breasts against the cool timber surface, Angelica bent forward at the waist, spreading her legs wide, resting her weight on the table for her legs were trembling and unsteady.
She felt Lucien’s hand between her thighs, then there was the unbelievable hardness of him, pushing and insistent at the core of her.
Lucien leaned over Angelica, wrapping his hands in her hair. He pulled, and she had to arch her back and tilt her head, tensing the soft skin of her throat.
Lucien entered her with a long groaning thrust that drove the air from Angelica’s lungs and left her gasping at the rigidity and heat of him.
A white-hot lance of pleasure spiked along her spine. She closed her eyes again and gave her body to him.
Lucien felt the deep warmth of Angelica clamp snugly around him as he filled her. He paused, the sensations an exquisite relief, and he stared down at Angelica’s back. He could see the indents of her spine, and the toned muscle of her flanks under flawless pale skin. He tugged at her hair, holding the long blonde tresses like reins, and thrust inside her again. He felt her whole body rock and the muscles within released and re-clenched.
