Mogul

by Joanna Shupe

  She rang for her maid, then removed her gloves and jewelry. But every part she stripped away only caused her to feel raw. More aware. What she wore on the outside protected her, like armor, against the nighttime memories, when the worst thoughts plagued her. Lying in bed with nothing between her and her brain, Calvin would become as clear in her mind as if their honeymoon had been yesterday. Would she ever get over that man?

  Her maid appeared, and soon Lily was undressed and stepping into the steaming marble claw-footed tub. “Will that be all, miss?”

  “Yes,” she told her maid, slipping into the hot water. The heavenly warmth sank into her bones. “I’ll sit here for a while and then drop into bed. No need to wait for me.”

  After her maid left, Lily closed her eyes. Sank low in the water. She rested her head on the edge of the tub. In an effort to quiet her mind, she drew in a deep breath, then slowly let it out. And another. Her heart was beating faster than it ought to, her limbs restless, and she recognized the signs for what they were: arousal. The touching, the kissing, the smell and sound of him . . . It had all combined to overwhelm her senses and drive her to distraction. Damn Calvin Cabot.

  She did not indulge these feelings often. They were wicked and surely the reason she would end up in hell. Proper women were not supposed to find pleasure in their own bodies, not with a partner and certainly not alone. But she’d had a taste of pleasure four years ago, and it was nearly impossible to put a treat down once you’d sampled it. Perhaps other women were stronger, but Lily was weak. Especially when it came to Calvin, because she never thought of anyone else while yielding to these dark yearnings.

  Her hands dipped beneath the surface of the water to find soft, slick skin. Breasts that ached, with nipples turned hard and sensitive. She bit her lip and rolled the taut ends between her fingers, the resulting zing shooting to her toes. How he’d loved her breasts, sucking and biting her nipples for what felt like hours. I’ve never seen a lovelier pair, Lily my love. She gasped and arched her back, her fingers working in tandem to satisfy the delicious urge, imagining the weight of his body and the rhythmic pull of his lips, until the pulsing between her legs could no longer be denied.

  Lower she caressed, over her ribs and belly, down to where the nerve endings gathered in one central spot. Swollen tissues awaited, screaming for her attention, and she stroked around the sides, teasing, denying herself out of sheer perversity. Calvin had often done that, made her delirious with wanting until she’d begged and pleaded with him to give her what she craved. He’d been ruthless in his ministrations, his fingers strong and confident. He always knew just where to touch her, each place to linger, exactly how much pressure to use....

  Her hips lifted, chasing the pleasure, exactly as she would have if he were touching her right now. The water rocked and her body stiffened, her fingertip glancing across the engorged pearl. A moan fell from her lips. It had been so long—ages, in fact. How she wished he were next to her, his clever touch and naughty words driving her higher. Or better, his erection buried deep inside her, stroking, pounding, his arms straining with the effort of holding off his own climax to ensure she found hers first. “Calvin,” she whispered without even realizing it, her movements growing more desperate.

  A noise caught her attention and her lids flew open. She froze.

  Calvin . . . here in her bathing room.

  He stood in the doorway, eyes wild, one hand clasping the wooden jamb as if it were the only thing holding him up. Mortification swamped her, and she quickly covered her bare breasts with her hands. “What are you doing in here?” she shrieked.

  “I . . .” His voice hoarse, he cleared his throat and opened his mouth once more. “I came by to check on you. To see if you were feeling any better. I heard noises and grew concerned you were in distress.” His gaze swept her naked form buried in the water. “I see I have my answer.”

  He started toward her, his face taut with an expression she well recognized: fierce hunger. Intense need. An answering tingle spread through her limbs, a weakness for this particular man.

  Before she could form words, he was next to the marble tub. Lily could not even meet his eyes. He’d caught her doing that. It was too humiliating to be believed. Good thing she’d never see him again after tomorrow.

  He knelt on the tile, putting him level with her—not that she was able to look at him. “I am sorry I interrupted you.” A water droplet slid along the outside of her throat. Using one fingertip, Calvin caught the moisture just before it found her collarbone. He then slipped that same finger into his mouth, his nostrils flaring as he tasted her. “Please, my lovely Lily. Don’t stop.”

  She swallowed, her mouth gone suddenly dry. “You’re embarrassing me. You need to leave.”

  “Not yet. I never leave a story half-finished.” He raked her with his bright blue gaze. Eyes full of sin and wickedness, like he’d been waiting for this one erotic sight all his life. A devil man, luring her into the darkness. “Finish it, Lily.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. I cannot do that with you watching me.”

  “Why not? You saw me stroke myself to orgasm on our honeymoon.”

  Yes, she had. It was one of her favorite memories of him, in fact.

  Calvin shifted to one end of the tub, behind her head, where she could no longer see him. But she didn’t need to be looking at him to know he was there. His presence was everywhere, wrapped around her, overwhelming her. His rough voice unleashed a litany of dangerous words. “Keep going, please. I want to watch you come so badly. You’re so beautiful, and seeing you like this is a gift I hardly deserve, but I think I’ll die if you stop. Come for me, please, Lily.”

  She could feel her heart thumping in her chest, a steady pounding that echoed between her legs. His palms trailed up her neck and into her hair, where he began disheveling the pins holding the blond strands. She heard the pins hit the tile just before long ropes of hair fell free, releasing down her back. Water lapped her body, sensuous velvet ribbons that caressed her skin, entirely unhelpful in resisting the man in the room.

  “Shall I help you come?” His lips hovered near the shell of her ear as he smoothed her hair. “Shall I talk to you, give you instructions? Tell you what I remember best about your body and the way you used to respond to me?”

  The idea slid through her, melting her limbs in the buoyant water. She was panting now, nearly jumping out of her skin with lust, no longer even apprehensive of her nakedness in front of him. Slowly, he was breaking down the barriers she’d clung to for four years, taking her hand and leading her down to the path toward debauchery. Their arguments, his leaving, the heartache . . . all of that seemed so far away at this moment. All she could do was feel. And want. Crave.

  She could not do this again, let him consume her. If he touched her, she would crumble. Her hands wrapped around the edges of the bath, gripping hard to keep herself upright. “No,” she pleaded, screwing her lids shut. “Don’t.”

  His breath teased her throat as he leaned in. “I won’t do a thing, then. I’ll just watch, I promise. Then I’ll leave.”

  He made it sound like such a simple request, one negotiated frequently. To her, however, revealing such a private part of her felt like unlocking the safe where she stored all her secrets. “I cannot. It’s . . . mortifying.”

  “You’re the bravest woman I’ve ever met. Are you truly afraid to touch yourself in front of me?”

  Not afraid exactly. Embarrassed.

  But then she heard his uneven breathing, felt the heat coming off his large frame. He wanted her. The desperation in his voice triggered some undiscovered strength inside her, a willingness to torture him. And he deserved to be tortured. He’d walked away from her, from them. Hadn’t fought for her. Hadn’t even tried to contact her in the last four years. He’d given her up and never looked back.

  The urge to torment him grew stronger, to punish this man with everything he’d missed out on since he left. Everything he could have enjoyed but no longer
had the right to sample.

  I think I’ll die if you stop.

  So how much would he suffer if she continued?

  * * *

  Calvin held his breath awaiting her answer. If Lily agreed to continue only after he signed over everything he owned, everything he cared about, he would do it without a second thought. The papers, his money, his home . . . he’d gladly live the rest of his life a pauper if he could watch her fall apart one more time.

  When the moment dragged on, uneasiness crept up his spine. If he was embarrassing her or causing her discomfort, he’d leave. He shouldn’t have entered her bedroom without permission in the first place. Only he’d been worried about her. She’d seemed out of sorts at dinner. He’d expected to find her nursing a headache in bed.

  “I’ll go,” he said and started to rise.

  She clutched his arm. “Wait, stay. Do you promise not to touch me?”

  “I won’t,” he said quickly, his voice deep and thick with lust. “I swear.”

  Her creamy skin shimmered in the water, full breasts swaying temptingly. Had his erection ever been this hard, this needy? His cock demanded to be released, to be satisfied, but he held himself in check. It wouldn’t do to scare her, and this was about Lily—not about him. He’d never seen her pleasure herself, not even when they were married, and he’d sell his soul for the opportunity to see this through.

  He could sense her inner struggle. She bit her lip yet did not offer an outright refusal. Instead her hips tilted slightly, her body unconsciously searching for relief. Excellent.

  “Think of how much you need to come,” he whispered in her ear.

  Ever so slowly, her right hand released the edge of the marble, then disappeared beneath the surface, moving between her legs. Satisfaction surged through him and he held perfectly still, waiting. Watching. Praying. Her fingers dove for her clitoris, and he knew when she reached that perfect, swollen nub because she jerked, inhaling a sharp breath at the contact. Fuck. He swallowed the groan threatening to escape his lips, not wanting to disrupt her.

  Her movements were tentative at first, an exercise to prove she wasn’t afraid. He could almost hear her saying to herself, Get it over with. A few quick strokes and he’ll back off. Not a chance in hell. He meant to see this through, to see her shatter under her own hand.

  His own hands curled into fists to keep from reaching for her, to join her in this display of wickedness. But he had to show some control—or else she’d retreat. He’d sworn to remain silent, not to distract or touch her, and he’d keep that promise if it killed him.

  Pink, luscious nipples jutted up from the water’s surface, and he remembered how they felt on his tongue. She was pure perfection. Unable to prevent it, his hand found his erection through his clothing and pressed, which caused his eyes to nearly roll back. Christ. He forced his hand away. If he kept it up, he’d spend in his trousers for certain.

  Her fingers picked up speed, her touch growing more assured. More desperate. Her chest bellowed with effort, a thin sheen of sweat coating her forehead as she shifted and twitched with rising pleasure. Holy Jesus, he wasn’t sure he could last through this torture.

  Her free hand clutched at the edge of the bath, her muscles growing taut, her back now bowed, thrusting her tits higher out of the water. A sizzle went up his thighs, through his groin, and his cock twitched. She was the most erotic thing he’d ever seen, the most beautiful woman in the world.

  “That’s it,” he crooned, unable to prevent himself from saying something. “Feels good, doesn’t it? Pretend I’m not here and enjoy touching yourself. Show me what you do when you’re alone.”

  Full lips parting, she let out a gasp, the sound bouncing off the walls of the small room. Her free hand blindly grabbed for him. “Calvin, kiss me,” she panted. “Please. Right now.”

  She did not need to ask twice. He dove around the side of the bath and lunged in the direction of her mouth. He caught her lips with his own, his tongue sliding past her teeth to taste her sighs. Drink in her moans. Mouths agape, their teeth clashed, both of them clumsy and greedy. She twined her tongue around his, every bit as eager, and he felt her begin to shake. Close, so close. He needed to see this, to burn the image of her orgasm in his brain for the lonely nights ahead, after she learned what he’d done and never spoke to him again.

  He eased back, released her mouth, and locked in on her lovely face. Her noises increased in volume, the tendons in her neck straining, and her free hand clasped his arm. “Oh, God. Calvin, yes,” she said, clutching him, her nails digging deep. Then she threw her head back, the long column of her smooth throat exposed, as spasms rocked her from head to toe. Blood rushed in Calvin’s ears. He’d never witnessed anything so wonderfully carnal in all his days. She was stunning.

  All too quickly it was over and she sagged into the water, releasing her hold on him as her arms went limp. Calvin closed his eyes and tried to keep in control of his very enthusiastic prick. Any second Lily would shake off the euphoria from her climax and throw a bar of soap at his head. He needed to be ready to depart, not fuck, and right now he wasn’t sure his legs would hold him.

  Bending, he pressed his lips to her bare shoulder. Stringing words into sentences felt beyond him, so he merely whispered, “Thank you.” Gaining his feet, he pivoted and started for the door. The sooner he escaped, the sooner he could find relief from his own hand.

  A rush of water sounded behind him. “Calvin, wait.”

  He spun to find Lily, breathtakingly naked, standing in the marble tub. Water sluiced down her curvy frame, over the pale globes of her breasts and down her stomach, along her thighs. She’d filled out in four years, her body more rounded, more womanly. He licked his lips and took an unconscious step toward her, his fingers tingling with the need to touch and explore. Then he remembered his promise when he first discovered her and came to a halt. Damn it.

  While his mind spun in nonsensical circles, she stepped out of the tub. Then she started toward him, bare as the day she’d been born. “Do you . . . cloth?” he heard himself wheeze.

  Her gaze darted to the front of his trousers, which should be on fire for all the heat building there. No doubt his cock was currently testing the limits of his seams. “Lock the door, Calvin.”

  He blinked, trying to understand which side of the locked door she wanted him on. Dear God, please let it be this one. She drew closer, almost within reach. The gold in her brown eyes burned, lids sleepy with lust, and Calvin’s doubt fled. It had been a long time, but he recognized that look. Had dreamed of it nearly every damn night.

  “Are you certain?” he felt compelled to ask.

  “Very,” she answered, and in two steps he was on her, his mouth devouring hers, hands sliding over damp, smooth skin. Tongues found each other again, fervent and insatiable, and he rocked his erection into her belly. There was no pretense this time; they were well beyond gentility or seduction. He needed to be inside this woman now.

  Breaking off from her mouth, he bent and swept her up, then carried her into the bedroom. Their breathing was the only sound in the room. When he laid her on the coverlet, he quickly followed, his clothed body covering hers as he reclaimed her mouth.

  She clawed and scratched, yanking him closer, bringing his weight atop her, while her legs wrapped around his hips. He ground against her pelvis, then groaned. He tore at the buttons of his trousers while she unbuttoned his vest and pushed the fabric over his shoulders. The tiny buttons of his combination proved difficult, so he ripped, popping them just enough until his erection sprang free. Her hand reached him first, her grip tight and unrelenting as she pumped him, drawing him toward the center of her body. Heat scorched the head of his penis just before he surged forward, gliding into the slick, plush velvet. Deeper he sank, steadily, carefully, while everything inside him begged for hard and fast. If he didn’t slow down, he might hurt her.

  He watched her face as he filled her for the first time in eons. How many times had he imagined th
is, never letting himself believe it might actually come to pass? And she was as heavenly as he remembered, with her wet, warm walls surrounding him, bathing his cock in pleasure and sensation. Absolution. Divinity. He wanted to roar with the joy of it and fuck her until the world crumbled around them.

  His pelvis met hers, his erection buried as far as it could go, and a tortured groan escaped from his throat. His balls were already drawn tight, his gut cramped with the need to spend. “Oh God, Lily. I don’t know that I can be gentle. I need you too badly.”

  Instead of protesting, she tilted her hips to bring him deeper and nipped his jaw with her teeth. “I don’t need gentle. I’ve never wanted gentle.”

  He screwed his eyes shut and shivered. “Christ, woman. You could not be more perfect.” He let go then, his brain turning off as instinct kicked in. Hips pumping, he slammed into her, driving hard, her breasts bouncing with each thrust, and he dipped his head to seal his lips to hers. He kissed her with abandon and she returned the kiss in kind, her grunts and sighs steadily growing in volume as they relearned each other.

  The taste of her, the smell of her . . . she surrounded him everywhere and he felt himself falling. He tried to stop it, he truly did. But then she scraped her nails—hard—over his back and the rush started at his toes, scorched the backs of his thighs. His pace quickened until the world exploded into white light and blinding energy—shèjng, as the Chinese called it. Just before he came, he withdrew and shot onto the sheets.

  When he finished shaking, he sat back on his heels. “I apologize,” he wheezed. “That should have lasted longer. I have no excuse, other than how desperately I wanted you.”

  Rising up, her fingers began plucking at the buttons on his shirt, undoing them one by one. “I’m not worried. I know exactly how you’ll make it up to me.”