by Nadia Aidan
He arched a single eyebrow as he crossed the small space that separated them. Mere inches stood between them, but she didn't back down, she didn't move as she thrust out her chin, her folded arms a shield between them.
"Interesting choice of words. So I can stay, but only if I want to do something else besides talk?” He grinned, but the anger that leapt into her wide-eyed gaze told him she didn't think his joke was funny at all.
"You come into my room to insult me again."
"It was never my intention to insult you this time or before, so I apologise for that, but I won't take back my words. You know what men think when they see you."
Her nostrils flared, and he knew he was pushing it, but he hadn't been raised to lie to people or tell them what they wanted to hear. He believed in telling the truth.
"That's the sorriest apology I've ever heard. And your insults just keep getting worse and worse. It's men like you who put wrenches in the wheel of progress. I should be free to dress however I want, and my attire should have no bearing on whether or not I'm deserving of your respect."
His brow furrowed as he frowned. “I'm sure you would disagree with some of my old-fashioned ways, but I never disrespected you. Rude, bad-mannered, ill-tempered, I apologise for, but never disrespect."
Her eyes rounded. “You don't think it's disrespectful to judge me by the clothes I wear?"
"How is that disrespectful? You dress like that to make men want you, and believe me, they do.” His last words came out as little more than a hoarse groan, as desire pumped through him, making it nearly impossible for him to concentrate on forming words. He knew all too well that men wanted her, because he was one of them. Her mahogany eyes darkened, and he knew she saw the lust that burned in his gaze. How could she not? But even if she hadn't, the bulge in his pants was obvious if she dared to glance down.
"Is that what you think? That I dress the way I do to make men want me?” she asked softly.
He stepped closer to her, his eyes following the slow slide of her tongue across her full, rosy lips. He stifled a groan at the image of her lush lips wrapped around his cock, sucking him to climax.
"Oh, you have no idea what I think,” he said roughly, and they both knew he was no longer talking about her choice of dress.
"Then tell me. Tell me what it is you're thinking,” she whispered, her soft voice wrapping around him like a warm blanket, coaxing him to reveal his innermost thoughts. He heard the subtle challenge in her voice and recognised she was taunting him, goading him so he could put his foot in his mouth once again. But her challenge lacked weight as her body trembled before him.
"Monica,” he warned. “I should lea—"
"No, tell me."
Did he dare? Did he dare tell her what he was thinking? What he wanted to do to her? He prided himself on his honesty, so he refused to back down now.
"You want to know?” He closed the distance between them, the only thing keeping him from touching her lush body was the barrier of her still crossed arms.
"I asked, didn't I?” There was a bravado in her voice that didn't match her shaking body and wary gaze, but she'd asked, no demanded, leaving him no choice but to tell her the truth.
"I'm thinking that I want to fuck you. Is that what you wanted to hear?"
She gasped, but he didn't stop there as he advanced on her, backing her into the wall, forcing her arms to her sides so that he could press his body against hers.
"You asked, Monica, so I'm telling you. When I look at you, I think about laying you on this bed, wrapping your gorgeous legs around my neck and sliding into your warm pussy until we come so many times neither of us can walk. To tell you the truth, that's all I've been able to think about from the moment I saw you standing there in the airport."
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Chapter Two
* * * *
Monica shivered against Grant, the muscled planes of his body brushing against her, tempting her to arousal. Warmth gathered between her thighs, his hand slowly tracing the curve of her lips as he stared down into her face.
He was waiting for her to say something, a response to his heated words, which conjured a host of vivid images of him driving into her, their naked bodies gleaming with sweat as they writhed together, twisted in the hotel's satin sheets. Her cheeks burned, making her want to fan herself. What on earth could she possibly say to that?
No man had ever been so candid with her, so openly honest. The men she dealt with were easily intimidated, always using flattery that she had to sift through in order to discover their true intentions. But Grant didn't need pretty words to entice her. So there were no syrupy compliments or empty promises. He wanted to fuck her, plain and simple, and she could either accept his offer or kick him out.
"I'm going to count to five, and if you don't want me to kiss you, then say something before I'm done and I'll say good night and walk out of here with no hard feelings."
This wasn't going to stop with a kiss, and they both knew it. Could she sleep with a man who thought so little of her, who'd made judgments about her from her appearance alone? Who didn't even know what she did for a living but thought she was a showgirl?
She stared up at him, his green eyes as dark as jade as he held her gaze like his life depended on her next words. He looked wild and untamed, his gaze hungrily devouring her with one glance, and she knew then that nothing else between them mattered. Not in that moment at least. In that moment, they were simply a man and woman, with an intense burning desire for each other—and that was all that was important.
"Monica."
A shudder raced through her at the sound of her name on his lips. The sexy, husky quality of it made her ache to hear him say it again, but this time, as a hoarse groan when he reached his climax inside her body.
His countdown was over, and he waited, giving her one last chance to change her mind, but she wasn't about to, didn't think her body would even let her no matter what her mind decided.
With one hand, she reached up to cup the back of his head, dragging his face down to press her mouth against his in a soft, languorous kiss. With their lips fused together, she slipped her tongue inside his mouth and deepened the kiss, enjoying the taste of him on her lips.
He instantly took control, his mouth urgent, demanding, branding her with the hot press of his lips.
Her other hand skimmed up the length of his arm to tangle in his soft hair, joining the other one to drag him deeper into her embrace. She clung tightly to him as their kiss became more urgent, and a slight gasp escaped her lips when he pressed the weight of his large erection into her belly.
She tore her lips from his mouth and stared into his wild eyes. She saw the fire that raged inside of him was burning quickly out of control. She understood the frenzied look because she felt the same burning need. Her body ached she wanted him so badly.
Damn. She thought as she panted deeply. She'd never felt like this before. This wild, out of control need threatened to consume her. Her body throbbed with desire, the heat of Grant's body seeping through her clothes to inflame her skin. That's when they both seemed to realise their bodies were still too far apart, and they tore at each other's clothing, sending tattered garments flying to the floor before they hurriedly tumbled onto the bed.
As eager as they both were, she expected he would fuck her fast. A rough quickie to slake their lusts until the next time, when they would gingerly explore every inch of each other's bodies.
But he held himself still above her, hesitating, the muscles in his corded torso straining as he trembled.
"God, you're beautiful,” he murmured, his eyes blazing with sexual hunger as they stared straight at her, not once leaving her face. There was something in the way he looked at her, the intensity of his gaze that shook her, moved her like nothing else ever had.
She'd been told she was beautiful many times before, but whether truth or lie, the expression had always been insincere to her ears. Beauty was superficial and would
eventually fade, and it was the way he stared at her that made her believe he saw beyond that. That despite his earlier words, he knew there was something deeper, much deeper, and she was convinced he saw it there in the depths of her eyes.
She reached for him then, suddenly overwhelmed by the onslaught of emotions he stirred within her, and he settled into her embrace, recognising her need to just be held.
"Are you sure?” he asked, his eyes full of concern, as if wanting to be certain she wouldn't regret this later.
She smiled, thinking maybe he wasn't such a jerk after all. “Yes."
And with that simple word, he didn't hesitate, as he gave himself over to the hands of desire, taking her with him.
With a feral growl, his mouth came down hard in a bruising kiss, all gentleness forgotten. Heat coursed through her body, as she arched into him, craving his dominance.
He drew away from her just long enough to slide down her body and cup her breasts, pushing them close together. Teasing her nipples between his long fingers, he brought them to stiffened peaks.
She let out a soft gasp when he greedily sucked on one nipple before moving to the other. Back and forth, he sucked, licked and stroked her nipples, making popping noises as he released one to shower the other with the same attention.
"Grant,” she panted, her fingers tangling in his hair.
His only response to her desperate plea was to release her glistening nipples and press tender kisses against the gentle swell of her stomach. He leisurely moved down her body, slowly raining tiny kisses along her thighs, her legs, all the way to her toes then back up again.
Instinctively, she spread her legs wide, as heat flooded her passage, eagerly awaiting the first stroke of his hard length into her long-neglected body
He slid between her legs, his eyes trained on her as he palmed her thighs, opening her wider, before stroking his tongue through the creamy folds of her wet sex.
She let out a sharp hiss, her back arching off the bed as she held Grant tighter, her body trembling around him.
He drove her wild with need, as he gently flicked her clit back and forth with his tongue, before pushing it deep inside her to taste her cream. He teased her, taunted her, drove her insane until she begged for release.
"Please, Grant,” she pleaded on a tortured sob.
But he ignored her and continued to hurl her to the brink of orgasm over and over transforming her into a wild, writhing mass of uncontrollable desire until she thought she couldn't take any more.
He shifted up her body, his large frame hovering above her, as he held his weight steady on his powerful arms.
"Are you ready?” he murmured huskily, hooking his arms behind her knees, spreading her wide.
She clenched her eyes shut, as she fought back a hoarse moan. He'd propelled her to climax so many times before, without letting her come, that she was mindless with desire. All she could think about was getting him inside her.
"Look at me, Monica,” he demanded, and she opened her eyes as he guided the head of his large cock towards her wet opening and gently pressed forward.
She gasped, her nails digging into his shoulders.
Muscles tense, he stiffened as he entered her, his breath coming in short pants while the veins in his neck popped out.
"God, Monica, you're so tight,” he rasped out and leaned forward to press gentle kisses against her neck.
"Open for me, baby,” he murmured as he once again surged forward, this time harder, his body more demanding. She moaned at the insistent press of him inside her, the walls of her cunt stretching to take the girth and length of him.
She felt so full of him, and her body gushed with sticky warmth to ease his entry. He pushed his cock deeper into her channel, his hips pumping slowly, as he fed her shallow strokes, lightly moving in and out of her, letting her juices fully coat his dick.
And when her body was finally ready to accept him, he plunged his full length inside of her, his muscles bulging with the effort it took not to hurt her.
"Grant,” she moaned, as she lifted her hips to meet his powerful thrust, welcoming the invasion of his cock. It was a tight fit, but the feel of him inside her was indescribable and she tightened her inner muscles, slowly rocking her hips against him in her own rhythm.
"Monica,” he growled, his palms pressing her legs farther apart as he began to plunge in and out of her with furious strokes.
Dragging her nails down his back, she threw her hips at him as he fucked her, their bodies slapping together, as the sound of their groans echoed in the suite, the sweaty musk of sex permeating the cool air
His strokes quickened, and he called out her name on a strangled moan, slamming into her tight sheath with furious, pounding thrusts.
He was so close to peaking, she could feel it, and she was close too. Her nails dug deeper into his back as hoarse screams poured from her lips every time he rammed his cock deeper inside her.
They were both out of control, their sweat drenched bodies slipping and sliding against each other, both straining for release. Their wild lovemaking forced the headboard of the bed to ricochet loudly off the wall.
Her body was on fire, every single inch of her burned for this man. When he ploughed deeper into her, brushing harder against her clit she couldn't stave off her climax any longer, and she exploded.
She stiffened beneath him, her hips pumping wildly, meeting Grant thrust for merciless thrust as she rode out the wave off her orgasm, her body splintering apart all around him.
The shattering explosion of her climax triggered his, and he shoved his cock into her with one final thrust before violent convulsions shook his powerful frame.
"Shit, Monica,” he hissed, his cock twitching inside her before it completely erupted, spurting hot cum deep inside her waiting pussy.
She clenched the muscles of her channel around him, milking his cock as she whispered, “That's it. Come for me, Grant."
He let out a lewd curse against her neck, as the last drops of his seed were wrung from his dick by the tight fist of her pussy and he collapsed on top of her.
Stroking his back, she slowly curled her legs around his waist as she pressed gentle kisses along the hairline of his damp forehead. Several moments passed while they laid there in silence, until he disentangled himself from her limbs and collapsed beside her, pulling her against him.
Neither of them said a word, afraid that speaking would break whatever spell had been woven over that night. So, instead of ruining the moment with words, they closed their eyes, eventually floating off to sleep.
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Chapter Three
* * * *
Monica sashayed through the dining room, her full hips swaying back and forth, drawing the attention of every man she passed—including his, as she skated around him barely acknowledging him with just the briefest of nods.
Irritation fuelled his steps, and he moved towards her, stalking her silently. She was purposely ignoring him, ducking away when he came near, deliberately avoiding his eyes as he stared at her from across the room.
He was many things, but he was not one to be ignored, not by a woman who less than two hours ago screamed his name as she shattered in his arms, her wet heat drenching his cock.
He drew closer to her, pining her with his glare. From her wide eyed glance around, he knew she was looking for an escape route, but with the guests from the rehearsal party filing out on the opposite side of the room, she had no one to conveniently latch onto. She was trapped, and they both knew it.
"We need to talk,” he ground out, his fingers clamping tight around her arm.
"I can't right now. I need to talk to the chef about the reception and—"
"I did that already.” That was a lie, but then again hers was too.
Her brown eyes narrowed, searching his face as she pressed her lips into a tight frown. “Well, I need—"
"Everything is squared away for the wedding tomorrow, and you know it so stop t
rying to get out of this. We're going to talk—now."
"You always want to talk,” she muttered under her breath.
He desperately wanted to tell her it was because she was always running off, but he remained silent, instead ushering her outside onto the terrace of the banquet room. Closing the door behind them, he released her, catching a quick glimpse from over her shoulder at the crush of taxis and people crowding The Strip below them.
Waves of heat assaulted him, as the scorching desert sun beat down on them, causing tiny beads of sweat to dot his forehead. With his hand nestled in the small of her back, he ushered her beneath the awning, where they could find some relief from the hot, summer rays.
"Why are you avoiding me?” he asked once they were in the shadows, his body backing her closer to the wall.
Her lashes fluttered as her eyes darted about, and before she even parted her lips, he knew she was going to bullshit him.
"Don't lie to me, Monica. I know you have far too much pride for that."
She raised a single brow. Now that was a challenge if ever she'd heard one, but what could she tell him? That every time she looked at him she had to forcibly pry her gaze away before she went up in flames and everyone around her read the truth on her face.
She'd barely made it through the rehearsal luncheon with all of her senses intact. Every time she looked up to find his hungry eyes on her, she would slip back into her memories of the night before and that morning, where there was only them, and he was above her, beneath her, inside her, dragging the most primal moans from her lips as he wrenched orgasm after sweet orgasm from her limp body.
What answer did he want exactly? That she was avoiding him because, if she didn't, she couldn't trust herself not to rip his clothes off and drag him to the floor right there in the middle of the reception with every guest watching.
"I...I—"
"The truth, Monica,” he said softly, his body inching closer, as he lightly stroked the roughened pads of his fingertips across her cheek.
