Eden's Pleasure (Pulse Book 1)

by Rose, Jennifer

  Her fingers ran up and down his back, driving him crazy with her touch. He slowly probed her mouth with his tongue. She opened to meet him in a tangle of desire. He slid his hand up under her pj’s with no desire to remove the garment.

  He took his time, his touch pleasing against her soft skin. Her breasts, he kneaded and teased with his hands, pinching her tight nipples lightly enough to arouse. His touch was like no other touch she had ever known. Their breathing intensified, and their moans amplified throughout the room.

  Slowly, patiently, he slipped his hand into her panties, stroking her clit in circles as she moaned and raised her hips to meet his movement until she climaxed with a flutter of explosions. He pulled at the lace of her panties, tearing them away with a single rip. Her eyes widened as his eyes leered at her.

  He rolled onto her body and slowly inserted his cock into her opening, careful to use her hot juices as a lubricant with each stroke. His rhythm was intentionally slow, penetrating her to her full depth, before withdrawing so that he could feel the head of his cock at the rim of her opening and then each inch as he glided back to her depth.

  His breathing was heavy, and with each forward stroke, he moaned with pleasure, sending a thrill through her body. The sound of his pure, unbridled enjoyment was like no aphrodisiac known. He stroked over her G-spot with perfect rhythm each time he penetrated her, and she moaned to match him, running her hands gracefully up and down his sides.

  This didn’t for a moment feel like the act of sex for gratification. It felt like so much more. If Eden had to put it into words, she would say he was definitely making love to her. Painstakingly slow, unhurried, and passionate. They lost themselves in each other. All that existed was that moment in time.

  All the troubles and torture that plagued them vanished, and the here and now was all that mattered, all that they craved. No need for dominance, they submitted to the magnificence of it all. Nothing was more natural and satisfying than two bodies entwined together during the magic that was the performance of making love.

  As they got closer to their releases, he increased the pace, reaching his hands to hold her ass tight to him as he rocked her powerfully beneath his weight. She cried out his name as she climaxed, squeezing her legs at his sides with each wave. His orgasm came on the tail of her final wave with a low rumbling growl.

  “Baby, what you do to me,” he whispered into her ear.

  Chase spent most of the morning in his office working. He had finally caught up on his workload and was researching a brilliant possibility, one that he hadn’t been too sure of when it came to him in the shower with Eden this morning. Smiling, it seemed all so doable now. It was a very viable idea indeed, and the initial cost would be minimal. The outcome would save millions over the next five years. The board of directors would love the idea of saving money.

  This can be done, he thought to himself. All that he needed to do right now was convince his Mom first—and that should be easy, then talk to Rheanna before arranging a directors meeting.

  “Hey, man, you busy?” Mason asked from the doorway.

  “I’m finished for now. What can I help you with?” Chase asked as he cleared his paperwork, stacking it neatly to one side and placing a paperweight that looked like a large gold nugget on top.

  “We lost the little fucker,” Mason told him, waiting for Chase to freak out.

  “It’s one fucking guy! You have a team of men on his tail, and he gets away how?” Chase sat back in his chair, taking a deep breath to calm himself, and rubbing his beard in frustration.

  “I know, I’m pissed too. This guy is fast. Freakishly fast,” Mason tried to explain.

  “Don’t give me that shit, man. Get more guys if you have to, but find him,” Chase ordered. “And Mason…” He leaned in, looking at the doorway to assure no one was listening. “Not a word about this to Eden. Got it?”

  “Got it.” Mason left the room, closing the door behind him.

  Chase took the business card that Detective Blackstock had given him and dialed the numbers into the phone.

  “District C-6, how can I direct your call?” the operator asked in a droll tone.

  “Detective Blackstock, please?” he asked, not knowing if he would be welcomed to ask questions.

  “Blackstock,” the detective snorted into the phone.

  “Detective, this is Chase Dean. I was calling to ask how the investigation was going.”

  “Mr. Dean, you know that I can’t discuss the case with you,” he said in a condescending manner.

  “Surely you could tell me something. This involves me too. Miss Fox is starting to feel a little stir-crazy,” Chase explained, hoping for the detective’s sympathy toward Eden. Hoping that the police were on this idiot’s tail.

  “Sorry, can’t help you,” the detective said dryly, clearing his throat in the silence. “Listen, Dean…you’re a resourceful young man. Take her out of the country for a while. Surely your security team can arrange something. Treat her to some fun in the sun. Buy her a bobble or two.”

  Chase swore he heard a little good-guy side of the detective that rarely got out. He could arrange a trip, take her away, and the nightmare could all be over by the time they returned.

  “Thank you, Detective, you’ve been very helpful. You have my number.” Chase hung up the phone and pulled out his Blackberry to make another call.

  “Mason, I need to make some plans for a trip. Meet me in my office at four…I’m going out for a while.” He disconnected the call without waiting for a response and hit speed dial for his next call.

  “Hi, Mom, I need to talk to you if you have some time…now, if possible. I’ll be there in say, thirty minutes? Great, see you then.” Chase hung up.

  He had thirty minutes, time to get his ass in gear. He would come up with his proposal en route. This would be the easy part. The tough part of the plan would be convincing Rheanna and the board. The idea of talking to his sister made him sick, but he would deal with her when the time came. He jumped into the Audi R8, pulled from the garage, and relayed his plan to Mason, who stood in the driveway with a disapproving scowl on his face. Chase drove down to the gates and disappeared in a blue streak while Mason stood shaking his head.

  ***

  Eden looked intently at the control panel for the intercom/security system, worrying her lip as she waved her index finger over the buttons. You practically needed to be a brain surgeon to figure out which button called which area of the house. She knew the red one was the panic button, blue ambulance, yellow fire and each bedroom was numbered. Other than that, she was baffled.

  “What are you doing, sweetheart?” Mason asked, amused by the concentration on her face as she chewed away at her lower lip.

  “Oh thank god, this thing is nuts. I was looking for you, actually. I couldn’t find Chase. I wanted to tell you I’m going for a run,” she told him as he gazed up and down her form in the spandex outfit with great appreciation. He liked a woman that looked after herself. Her outfit hugged tight in all the right places, showing her well-toned abs and the sexy shape of her legs.

  “Mason? Hey, Mason, snap out of it!” She reached out and punched his arm, realizing that he was far too into what she was wearing.

  Swallowing back the dirty little secrets and images that whirled in his mind, he looked at his watch. “Chase went out for a while. Don’t be too long, and stay on the property,” he instructed.

  “Where did he go...never mind.” She held up her hands. “It’s none of my business…I plan on staying to the fence line.” She took off out the front door, and Mason smiled as he took in the sight of her tight round apple-shaped ass cheeks.

  Eden smiled to herself as she flew through the door, knowing that Mason was watching her ass. He was such a man!

  It was chilly this afternoon, but she would warm soon, and the run would do her good. It would clear the cobwebs from her mind and some of the tension that was causing the throbbing in her head. The trees were starting to change
color, and birds flew from them as she ran by. The heavy tamping of her shoes on the ground and her fast-paced breathing were the only notable sounds, aside from birds chirping and a dog far off in the distance somewhere. Totally alone, her thoughts turned from her surroundings to Chase, as she gained a little speed running along the white picket fence.

  Where has he gone? she wondered. She hadn’t seen him since their morning shower. She had even eaten breakfast alone. She appreciated the time to herself, but she feared that he had heard her whispers last night and was avoiding her, reluctant to get too close.

  When she got back to the house, she saw the garage open and the Audi R8 gone. She concluded that Chase must have taken the car and gone on his own since Mason was still here. She had met up with each of the marksmen on her run, surely distracting them with her outfit, which meant that only Chase had left.

  She showered quickly, avoiding getting her hair wet, and dressing in jeans and a sweatshirt with “I heart Boston” on the chest and “The Fox” written across the back in red lettering. She tied her hair into a knot at the back of her head and wore a pair of tennis shoes without socks.

  Rheanna came from the office with her arms wrapped across her chest, concealing something under her sweater, when she noticed Eden walking down the hall. They passed each other without a word to the relief of Eden. The smell of liquor wafted in the air, and Eden shook her head, knowing that Rheanna had been into the sauce again. Chase would be pissed and surely a fight would ensue.

  Wandering aimlessly around the huge house, Eden took in her surroundings, checking out the many pieces of artwork. There were many paintings and photographs that sat on side tables, hung on the walls, fireplace mantels, and seemed to adorn every room.

  Most of the pieces of sculpted art were originals, names she recognized from local galleries; the paintings were reproductions of famous works. One in particular caught her eye; it hung in the hall leading to the kitchen. Eden had passed it so many times before but never noticed it. A memory of seeing it in Chase’s apartment came to her. It was a Renoir reproduction called “After the Bath” painted in 1888. She knew it well; she had taken inspiration from it for the painting she produced for the auction. It was beautifully reproduced and the frame was exceptional, bringing out the brilliance of the paint colors. Why was it hanging in such a place?

  “She’s beautiful, don’t you think?” Chase asked, wrapping his arms around her waist and nuzzling his nose into the delicate skin at her earlobe, pecking tiny kisses around to the nape of her neck.

  “She is. Why is it hanging here? It deserves to be hung somewhere special.”

  “She hung in my apartment in a special spot, but she has since been replaced, so here she’ll stay until I decide where to put her.” He spun Eden around to face him and continued his quest to cover every inch of her face and neck with his lips.

  “Did you just get back?” she asked, squirming from his arms. He snatched at her, pulling her sweatshirt in a wrestling match he could have easily won. He’s playful, she thought, his day must have been good.

  “I did. I went to see my mom.” He gave up the battle, took hold of her waist in both hands, and lifted her on his hips. Eden wrapped her legs around his waist and held on tight as he carried her to the kitchen.

  “How is she?” Eden asked. Chase planted her on a stool and sat alongside her, taking her hand in his.

  “She’s good. She’s keeping busy with work, social teas with the ladies, and apparently poker night.” He looked at Eden and laughed.

  “I’m glad, I like your mom.”

  “And she likes you. She asked if we were still friends, and said to say hello.”

  Eden wasn’t sure how she felt about the “friend” thing. It almost didn’t feel like the right choice of words for what they had been sharing, especially after her revelation last night.

  “You ok?” he asked, handing her a bottle of water and guzzling down half of his own.

  “Yeah, of course, I’m fine.” She wasn’t sure how convincing she had been.

  Chase rested his chin on his hand at the counter’s edge. “I have to meet with Mason in a few minutes, so you continue whatever it was you were doing before I so rudely interrupted…then we need to talk, ok, baby?”

  Eden nodded and watched him empty the remainder of his water. He tossed it into the recycle bin at the far end of the room, ran his fingers across her chin, smiling, and headed off in the direction of his office.

  With a feel of slight panic, her heart jumped into her throat. Surely there wasn’t more bad news, and what was he meeting Mason for? Did they get Jackson? Was Chase finishing with her? Would he reconsider their arrangement? Her head continued to fill with a million possibilities. She decided to continue her tour, seeking a diversion while she waited for the meeting with Mason to end.

  At the far corner of the great room, Eden sat on the piano bench studying the two paintings that hung on the wall beside it, obvious originals. They were signed by Gustave Caillebotte. They were fairly simple, nothing overly interesting about them, but she was drawn to them all the same. A man sat playing a piano in one and the other featured two ladies in black sitting together at a piano.

  The beautifully polished instrument in front of her sat, closed tightly, with an oversized vase of red roses sitting on it. She ran her fingers along the surface of the closed keyboard, hearing the sound of the keys in her mind, the vibration running through her feet to her chest. She hummed “Rachmaninoff’s Rhapsody on a Theme” with her eyes closed. Her hands smoothed over the shining surface as if she could feel it. A single tear ran down her cheek as she opened her eyes, and Chase caught it on his fingertip.

  “Beautiful.”

  She had been so lost in the music in her mind, that even his touch hadn’t startled her. He lifted her chin with his wet fingertip and kissed her yearningly.

  “You like Rachmaninoff?” he asked in a whisper.

  “I do. I love soft, quiet, almost mournful pieces. Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata. Chopin’s Nocturno. Raindrops Prelude Nº4 and Tristesse.”

  “Are you sure you never studied music?”

  “No. I had a teacher though. Mrs. Roberts. She assigned us projects one year. We had the entire year to write four pages of our ‘feelings’ on a single subject. She assigned classical piano to me. I had no idea where to start. She loaned me a CD player and a dozen CD’s. I listened to them day and night. Rachmaninoff’s Rhapsody on a Theme of Paganini has always been my favorite because it’s from a love story.” She smiled at the memory. “I wrote ten pages that year and got a B plus.”

  “’Somewhere in Time,’ right? It’s a wonderful piece and actually quite easy to learn,” he added.

  “Play it for me?” she asked.

  “I’ll do you one better via stereo surround sound.” He crossed the room and opened a large cabinet filled with stereo equipment and fiddled around with the buttons until the room filled with the sound of Rachmaninoff’s Rhapsody.

  It sounded wonderful, and if you closed your eyes and pictured the keys being gently caressed, you would think that the piano was actually playing, but she knew differently. She felt like she had been masterfully diverted.

  “Nice try, Mr. Dean, but not quite good enough. Why won’t you play for me?” she prodded him dangerously. She remembered his mood when last she asked him to play.

  “I told you, I don’t play anymore.” His answer was direct and to the point, like before.

  “It’s such a beautiful gift to waste,” she stated, throwing caution to the wind. She softened her voice as the music ended. “I don’t understand.”

  “You really need to let it go. I don’t play anymore.” His voice rose. Walking over to the cabinet, he turned the stereo off and closed the doors. “We need to talk, remember? Come.” He was gruff in his tone, putting out his hand to her, and she reluctantly took it.

  When they reached the media room, he turned the light to a dim glow and pulled her to the large couch. There was
an open bottle of Pinot and two glasses on the coffee table and a large melamine envelope. She looked from the table contents to his face with a furrowed brow.

  “Sit,” he told her. She took a seat, but if it was to be another one-syllable conversation, she was going to grow very wary, very fast.

  Chase filled the glasses with wine, handing her one. “I get the feeling you’re not very happy here, so I think it’s time to leave.”

  He’s ending it, she thought. She knew this was what he had to talk about. The ache in her chest worsened as seconds of silence past. The need to bolt growing stronger, the pain increased, and her mind spun in circles. The idea of being rejected and thrown out on her ass with nowhere to go was crushing.

  How could he do this? She scrubbed her forehead. With brows knit together, she looked at him angrily. Rage quickly replacing her pain, Eden tightened her jaw, and spoke in a tone that took Chase completely by surprise. “And for this we need a celebratory glass of wine? Look, if you don’t want me here, just tell me. I don’t need a house to fall on me to know I’m not wanted.”

  She emptied her glass in one mouthful, slammed it on the table, and stood, turning her back to leave. Chase grabbed her arm, pulling her down into her seat.

  “What are you talking about?” He held her down, confused.

  “You said you want me to leave.” Eden tried to pull from his grasp as Chase laughed softly, shaking his head.

  “No, baby! I don’t want you to go…I worded that all wrong. Look in the envelope.” He let go of her arm once he felt her relax somewhat.

  Eden reluctantly took the envelope and slid out a photograph. She knew this photo. She had the same one, or at least she had had a copy, in her desk. “Pleasure,” she whispered. The photo of the 110-foot yacht sailing through rough waters brought a smile to her face. It was beautiful, and Eden had fantasized away many afternoons at work, thinking about sailing around the world without a care.