by Nikki Sloane
What the fuck? What was that? How had this innocent gesture made my heart beat faster? The cushion top shifted as he sat beside me, his fingers now trailing a pattern on the back of my hand.
“You know, Japan has these hostess bars where men pay to have an hour’s worth of conversation with a woman who’s not their wife or girlfriend.”
Tingling warmth was left in the wake of his strokes. Everything was upside-down. What was happening? “Why?” I asked in my disoriented state.
“Everyone’s desperate to connect. There are people packed in all around, and yet it’s the most isolating place you can imagine.” Dom eased his fingers under my palm, turning it so he could lace his fingers with mine. “I can’t go into a lot of these bars because I’m an American. Not that it fucking matters. It’s unlikely the women speak English. And the ones I can go in are usually Yakuza owned. Not exactly safe.”
His once cold hand now scorched on mine. Jesus, when was the last time I held hands with someone? Eighth grade? This was weird, and yet, oddly nice. I tightened my hold on him, and my breathing became uneven.
“You like the sexy hand holding, don’t you?” he said.
I choked back the startled, nervous giggle. I wanted to take the blindfold off. I wanted him to order me to lie back down so he could shove himself inside me and the power I was accustomed to would be mine again. Nothing shocked me anymore when I was on this table; I’d seen and done just about everything. But this unfamiliar experience and my reaction to it . . .
“We can do so much more than just this,” I whispered. It might have been a plea.
“I know. There’s a menu of all the stuff we can do over there on an easel.” The knuckles of his free hand brushed over my cheek, turning my head toward him. “Maybe I want to do the stuff that’s not on there.”
I didn’t have time to respond. The hand cradled my face and held me into his kiss. Soft, damp lips grazed mine as if testing the waters, and when I didn’t move, he kissed me for real. His mouth moved on mine, gentle yet in control. A hint of possession that was kind of hot.
No. Against the rules, my brain yelled.
I tried to turn away, but his hand holding mine abandoned it so he could grip my face between his palms, denying my halfhearted escape, and shifting me to the best angle. So he could slip his wet, soft tongue into my betraying and welcoming mouth.
Electricity arced through my body. Fuck, it turned me on, which had never happened before. Kissing with men usually did nothing for me. It had always been a weird tangle of probing tongues and noses smashed together, but this kiss wasn’t anything like that. It was hot. I wanted more, and I sighed audibly when he was polite enough to give it to me.
He must have figured out I was cool with him breaking the rule, because one hand relaxed and worked its way up onto the back of my head, tugging the elastic bands up. The tension on the blindfold eased away just as he did. He was giving me back my sight as a reward for accepting his kiss. When the blindfold was off, my eyes fluttered open and adjusted to the light.
“Holy shit,” I said, echoing back his reaction to me.
Dom was a shade too handsome to call cute. He was more elegant and serious looking than a catalog-model pretty boy. The man beside me, a blindfold in one hand, was out of this world hot. Long lashes framed strikingly aqua-blue eyes. His hair was longer on the top than it was on the sides and fawn colored. Two days’ worth of stubble etched his strong, defined jaw. Distinctly male, and sexy as fuck.
His piercing eyes clouded with distrust at my reaction, and for a half-second it looked like he was thinking about how he could get the blindfold back on. So I yanked it from his hand and tossed it aside. I wanted to clear that up right away.
“I said holy shit because you’re really fucking hot. What the hell are you doing here?” Stop talking, Payton. “You could go into any bar and women would drop their panties for you.”
A huge smile spread on his face. “You think so?”
I scrunched brows. “I don’t get why you did this.”
The warmth in his eyes faded a touch. “I don’t have a lot of time. I only came home for Thanksgiving.” He straightened, smoothing a hand down the buttons of his gray dress shirt. “I’d rather not waste it shouting over a speaker at some crowded bar, hoping to get . . . to find a connection.” His eyes drifted from mine. “This way you have to talk to me.”
“Talk,” I said. “You don’t want to have sex?”
His eyes snapped back to mine, and color warmed over his cheeks. “I didn’t say that.”
Oh, hell. He was cute, when he was embarrassed. He wanted a sure thing, too.
“Can I be honest?” His blue eyes blinked slowly, hypnotizing.
I nodded. “Sure.”
“Meeting women in Tokyo is fucking impossible when you’re a Gaijin. I’ve been there almost a year.” His gaze fell away and he tangled his hand with mine once again. “It’s been a long time and I’m way off my game.”
Oh my god, really? “You haven’t had sex in a year?”
He pressed his lips together for a moment. “Not with someone else.”
My eyes raked down his body, noting the delicious build hidden beneath the dress shirt and black suit pants. He probably spent as much time in the gym as I did. A year without someone riding that? What a waste.
“You look like a man who knows how to fuck.”
The subdued color flashed on his face again. “I’d like to think so, yeah.”
“Show me.” It came out before I could stop it, and my hand let go of the lapels of the jacket so it fell open. Cool air rolled over my bare skin, giving me goosebumps.
He frowned and cinched the jacket closed, bringing his face so much closer to mine. “Can we slow down?”
The vibrant blue eyes were wide and gorgeous. Flecks of dark gray scattered among his irises matched his shirt perfectly. My job was to give him what he wanted. My desires were irrelevant, I reminded myself. Since he was already there, it took him no time to close the breath of space between us and attempt to kiss me again.
I leaned away. “Remember my rule.”
“You didn’t seem to mind last time.” His voice was an even mixture of accusation and desperation.
“I’m sure it was an accident, and I believe in second chances.” I folded my jacket-clad arms over my chest and crossed my legs that dangled over the side of the table. The bottom of the fabric just covered the naughty bits, but gave him a magnificent view of my inner thigh. The muscles along his jaw tightened.
Hidden high in the corner of the room, there was a closed circuit camera, and up in Joseph’s office, Nina and Joseph would be monitoring the feed for security. She had to be wondering what the hell was going on. I glanced at his hunched shoulders and how he had his head cast down.
“Dom, can I be honest, too? I’m terrible at talking. It makes me kind of uncomfortable.” The idea took shape and then I blurted it out. “I’ll be better at it if I’m distracted.”
I put my hand on his thigh, halfway between his knee and his hip. Not too high to be aggressive, but not too low to be considered merely friendly. It was another club no-no. The client initiated, not the girl. Part of me no longer cared about the rules.
It was because part of me wanted him. This strange spark between us was intoxicating and disarming. If I’d run into him at a bar on one of my recruiting crawls, I would have snatched him up in a hot second.
His warm hand crushed mine as he leaned in again, his mouth hovering dangerously close to mine. “How do you suggest I distract you?”
It was a bullshit question and he knew it. Lips descended on me, but this time into the side of my neck, and I gasped. I jolted under his kiss and tilted my chin up and away, giving him better access. The cushion shifted under me as he stood. One hand cupped my jaw while the other ventured inside the jacket, working its way around to my back. He yanked me tight against his hard body, my legs falling to part around him and his wide hips. My cheek rested against the tough s
kin of his palm while he sucked on my neck, licking and teasing me with teeth.
I goddamn shuddered under his power. Me. I struggled to find air through my slack mouth. Jesus, what he was doing felt good.
“What’s your name?” he mumbled into my skin.
“. . . Paige.” For the first time ever, I felt bad about lying, but it was too dangerous to use my real name.
“Fake or real?” He worked a path of kisses down to my collarbone.
I wasn’t supposed to touch unless given permission, but I found his head in my hands, my fingers weaving through his soft, thick hair. The long suit sleeves were bunched up at my elbows and constricting, but I liked having the jacket on. I liked wearing part of him.
“Fake,” I whispered. “You understand why–”
“Yeah.” His rough voice rumbled at the base of my throat. He was coming back up. “I’m going to kiss you again. It won’t be an accident.”
My heart pounded in my chest and I sucked in a breath. “Dom–”
Too late. His hot mouth crushed against mine and this kiss wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t sweet or curious. It was demanding. Urgent. Passionate. The kind of kiss a man waited a year to give a lucky woman, and I was that fucking lucky woman. My moan was loud and my hands clenched fistfuls of his hair, trapping him where I wanted him. I was drugged by these strange feelings, and thirsty for more.
He tore his lips away from mine and stared down at me with a discerning and sharp look. “Was that reaction fake or real?”
I couldn’t breathe, but I managed to speak on a shaky voice. “Real.”
The side of his mouth lifted in a pleased smile. “Then fucking kiss me.”
chapter
THREE
Sitting on the table with Dom towering over me, his hands inching their way toward my breasts, was exciting. The tingling anticipation built with each painfully slow move, creeping leisurely toward the nipples that were hard and sensitive beneath the silky lining of the jacket.
His tongue was deep in my mouth, each wicked stroke over mine better than the last, urging me to come play. I was more focused on my hands and had several buttons of his shirt undone before I paused.
“Is this okay?” I asked.
He resumed kissing me, giving me his answer by helping me undo the rest. I flung the shirt and my jacket open and shifted until I was all the way at the edge of the table, leaning into him. My breasts pressed against the hard angles of his defined chest and we both sucked in a breath. Skin on warm, soft skin.
“That feels so fucking good,” he said.
He didn’t have to tell me, not just because I agreed. The evidence that he liked it was hard on my inner thigh. My legs wrapped around his hips, drawing him closer. I reached for his belt buckle, and as I tugged on it, he straightened. A hand locked on my shoulder and shoved me, sending me backward until I was flat on the cushion and staring up at the chandelier.
“Slow down, Paige.” His warning was sort of playful, but sort of not. The rough voice made everything sound like a command, and that also made me insane with lust. “You haven’t been talking at all.”
“You make that hard when you keep breaking my rule.”
As I’d fallen onto my back, the hand on my shoulder shifted and caressed down my body, brushing over my breast. It trailed over my waist, down over my hip . . . and down . . .
“Tease,” I blurted out. He’d skimmed his fingers in the hollow of my inner thigh. One goddamn inch from where I wanted it.
“It’s only teasing if I don’t do it eventually.” He traced the hollow on the other side. “I could say the same thing about you. Doesn’t this have you distracted enough to talk?”
He had a point. I searched for something to get the awkward conversation going. “What do you do in Japan?”
“I confirm US inventory on container ships so it can pass through customs without incurring a tax when it arrives in California.”
Wow, thrilling. “Do you like your job?”
His gaze drifted across the landscape of my exposed skin. The opening edges of the jacket were hung on my breasts, covering them, but everything else was on full display. I mean, total display because I had Brazilians religiously.
“My job’s necessary to save the company millions of dollars. After another year, I’ll come back to new opportunities that weren’t available before.”
A smile crept across my lips. “You didn’t answer my question.”
“My job blows, but the money’s fucking amazing.” His eyes turned serious. “What about you?”
“Me? I like what I do.” It came out kind of indifferent.
“Fake?” The coarse skin of his palm glided back up, urging the jacket open to expose a nipple to him.
“Real,” I said. “I used to love it, but . . .”
The hand finished its journey to my breast, closing on the skin. His eyes hooded as he watched me arch my back into his touch.
“Why don’t you love it anymore?” His rushed breathing was the same as it had been when he first came in the room.
“It’s a stupid reason. I don’t want to talk about it.” I let a hand wander over the ridges of his six-pack abs, staying above the belt.
He leaned over me, supporting himself on one hand while the other traced circles on my nipple. Then, his head dropped down and something wet replaced his touch, caressed me. I moaned. Finally we were moving past freshman year of high school.
“Come on, tell me.” Lips fluttered against the curve of my breast. “I can find better ways to distract you.”
Oh, fuck it. “My best friend fell in love and is getting married.”
He went wooden.
“All of my other friends,” I continued, “are already married, or have kids.” I couldn’t put it into words, but I felt like I’d spent too much time fucking around and I’d missed my window. I didn’t want the white picket fences and mini-van life, but I wanted to mean something to someone. I was selfish and greedy. I wanted someone to belong to me. “I feel like I’ve been left behind.”
“Shit,” he said, hushed. “I know exactly what you mean.”
And then his head dipped back to my breast and drew my nipple into his mouth, sucking at me. A bolt of white-hot pleasure shot between my legs. Yes. It was plenty distracting, but he wasn’t done yet. The pads of his fingers inched downward until he buried them between my legs.
I moaned. Just the faintest touch had me breathless.
“Do you like this?” he whispered. “Real?”
“Yes, very real.”
He searched and found the nub of flesh, swollen and already aching for him, his fingers rolling a small circle and increasing pressure. This moan was loud and grateful. The whiskers dotting his jaw scraped over the valley of my breasts as he pushed the jacket aside and traveled to the other nipple. Cold air washed over the wet skin he’d left behind, making the knot of flesh harder.
“I’m thirty three years old,” he said, “and the last of my friends proposed to his girlfriend a month ago. I know they’re all wondering what’s wrong with me.”
It was getting hard to think with how his hand was pleasing me and the almost nonexistent filter I had burned away to nothing in my need. “Is something wrong with you?”
“Other than the fact I’m willing to pay thirty grand to have a conversation? I don’t think so.”
Shit, we better do more than just have a conversation. I shifted my hips, trying to get him to slip a finger inside me. His lips moved up and returned to mine. Every time he kissed me, it was like the wires crossed in my brain. I didn’t want it—and I was desperate for it.
“I didn’t have a problem meeting women here, but I didn’t get too serious about anything when I found out I was moving to the other side of the world.” The heat spreading from his touch made my stomach tighten. “You must be fighting the guys off. What’s your story?”
I got my wish when he eased a finger inside me, all the way in.
“I get bored,” I gasped,
opening my legs wider, and bit down teasingly on his bottom lip. “Most guys aren’t up to the challenge of me.”
“Are you too much to handle, Paige?” He thrust his middle finger gently into me, his thumb moving on my clit. The sensation drove me crazy with lust. I clawed at the bare skin of his chest, wanting more.
Was I too much? “Definitely,” I answered. “Can I have another?”
The blue eyes flared with desire and he straightened to his full height. I loved how he looked. Hair ruffled from my fingers, his shirt undone and hung open, his piercing gaze locked on me, spread out before him.
“Maybe you’re too much for other guys,” he said, “but not for me.” The second finger joined in, filling me where I was damp and hot. I bucked on the cushion top with a cry of pleasure, my hands clenching fistfuls of his dress shirt. I didn’t know if I was trying to bring him closer or if it was a simple reaction from the overwhelming desire flooding my veins.
This is the guy who I’d made blush. Twice. “You’re in way over your head with me, Dom.”
“Says the woman who doesn’t like kissing, or talking, and I’ve gotten you to do both in less than fifteen minutes.”
My eyes widened.
“Yeah,” he said as he increased the speed of his thrusts, his fingers pumping in and out of me. “I think I’m doing all right.”
He was doing better than all right. “Fuck, you’re going to make me come.”
The corners of his mouth lifted in a wicked smile. “What will that taste like?”
What–? He dropped down to his knees, bringing his head level with the table.
“Oh, god, yes. Taste it,” I begged. The sight of his head positioned between my thighs nearly brought me to orgasm.
“Scoot back and I will,” the rough voice said.
I did immediately. Warm breath hovered over my pussy. My muscles tightened in hungry anticipation for his tongue, and then . . .
Flames licked at me where his tongue did. I jolted up onto my bent elbows, but threw my head back as a startled moan tore from my mouth.
“Oh, god, Dom. Fuck me with that mouth.”
