He removes his fingers from me and with the palm of his hand, puts so much pressure between my legs that he raises me upwards until my hands climb the glass in front of me for support.
Suddenly and with no restraint, he removes his hand, pulls my hips back towards him and plunges his full length into me, hitting my wall and making me wince in shock. The feeling is overwhelming and the power of his drive in forces my cheek to the glass, more punishing strokes pushing me further into it. His hand snakes its way up my back and towards my throat, causing the familiar quickening of panting to assault my airway. It feels euphoric, heady, and oddly, I need to feel him around my neck. I grab for his hand and put it to my throat in a show of unadulterated lust. I’m so close again as his hand closes around my windpipe that I lean my head back to give him greater access to it. His long fingers caress and stroke across it purposefully, eliciting all sorts of bizarre sensations from me.
“So. Fucking. Beautiful. You will see yourself as I do. Remember this,” he says against my cheek as his other hand goes to my head and he unties the scarf, letting it fall to the floor. “Look at them, Elizabeth. Open your eyes and see,” he growls at me. “Be so close to me that you don’t care,”
As I open my eyes, I see that the glass is clear and I can see straight into every single person’s eyes. I gasp in shock and recoil backwards towards him. He pushes back at me and replaces my hands on the glass as he surges forward again and presses my entire body against the window. Grasping at my throat, he places his thumb on my cheek and turns my head back to look at them. He slows his strokes and softens slightly, still forcing me to look. Feeling my hesitation, he moves his whole hard body against mine and softly grinds into me.
“You have more than they do. Experience how decadent you can feel when you just let go. Stay with me and let yourself go, baby.”
My whole body begs for him to take me harder, to feel the pleasure and pain again, and as I realise they can’t see me and that nobody is looking, I let my body relax back into him again as his fingers sink into my hipbone.
“Alex,” I breathe. I have no fucking idea how I feel but his weight behind me, and the unrelenting throb in my core are beginning to fuel me forward again, to give in and just go with him.
Hunger, desire and pure lust sweep through me and I understand exactly what he wants me to see. Not to hide from self-consciousness and trust myself to give him everything, to go beyond the fear for him and to accept his opinion of me, of us, and his opinion alone.
“What do you want, Elizabeth? You have to tell me,” he says quietly behind me as his fingers grip me harder. “Tell me. I want to hear you fucking asking me for it.”
My thoughts collide with my need for him and I yield.
“Make me come, Alex. Show me more.”
“Mmm, good girl,” is his throaty response as his hand wraps around my stomach and forces me back to him. He slams into me with brutal, unremitting strokes and I feel him swelling deep inside. I keep my focus on the crowd, nervously watching their movements, but the unrelenting rhythm behind me is far more consuming and I start to lose myself in him again. The familiar build causes my legs to buckle and quiver. Only the pressure on my neck keeps me aloft, the persistent and unyielding grip on what is his. I sense his groaning behind me and close my eyes, letting him take me there with him. Passion and lust flow between us and I fall into some sort of darkness and light, some place I’ve never been before where everything is consumed by my body’s reaction to him alone.
“Elizabeth, do it now. I want to feel you come with me.” He growls low, like a caged animal.
And with one final penetrating thrust, the crowd disappears and it’s just him and me in a sea of bliss and euphoria. Pulses and spasms ricochet through us both and he closes his arms around my waist and pulls me back to him, deeper into him. That’s all there is. Just him kissing my neck and whispering beautiful words into my ear. Him keeping me close as we both enjoy the last of our mutual ecstasy, the last sensations of pleasure and adrenalin.
I’m in heaven and as I let my thoughts seep back to reality, I feel him soothing my neck and moving me back towards the seat at the back of the room. He sits and pulls me onto his lap, cradling me and stroking my hair as I continue to stare at the mass of unrighteous money-makers in front of us. I have no idea how I feel about what just happened, but I do know I’ve revelled in it, somehow found a new sensation in my mind and body that I wasn’t aware of before now - some sort of detached space where it’s only him and I. Is it heaven? Maybe it really is that mythical place where angels live, because they’d be able to do that shit no problem. Actually, I have no damn clue but I want it again.
“Do you understand where I want to take you?” he says, kissing my shoulder and brushing the hair from my face. I’m curled so tight in his arms that I couldn’t feel any safer if I had an army surrounding me. His embrace is all I need in this moment. His warmth and guidance is all consuming.
“Yes, I think so.” He chuckles and kisses the top of my head.
“Mmm, I think you do, too.”
Chapter 14
Alexander
R elaxing back into his chair, he rubbed the back of his neck, trying to relieve some of the damned ache caused from sitting for too long. The computer screen was still flashing back at him with renewed vigour as the barrage of emails kept pinging up. Sighing, he looked toward the floor to ceiling wall of glass at the end of his office. He wanted to be out there with her again. God, he was getting far too bloody slushy.
When he’d eventually woken up on Monday morning, after probably the best night’s sleep he’d ever had, she’d gone. There was only a note left on the kitchen table to tell him that she’d had a wonderful time and that she would wait for him to call. She’d also left the bracelet in its box on the counter next to it. What woman didn’t want diamonds? One with too much humility for her own good, perhaps? Fuck, that was so sexy to him, a woman he couldn’t buy.
Drumming his fingers on the table and looking toward his phone, he contemplated calling her. It was Thursday, four days since he had last seen her, been with her. He hadn’t called or emailed and didn’t really understand why because he had wanted to, very much. She was in his thoughts constantly and no matter how hard he tried to dislodge her, he just couldn’t. But was she really ready to see the world through his eyes and stand beside him? He desperately wanted her to, but something held him back. She was too innocent, good-natured. He didn’t even have the right to show her the devious and often perilous game that he played with others. He certainly shouldn’t teach her how to decipher the chessboard that was business and social engagements, how to manipulate and influence people, and how to be more in control of herself around all the fake and pretentious sycophants that invaded his world daily. Or should he?
He couldn’t even contemplate her understanding or accepting his life before all this, so for the time being he would simply keep that away from her as he did with everyone else and hope she couldn’t see it in him. He’d managed to hide it well enough for all these years and he hadn’t been dragged backward too much lately. The occasional payment was needed, but most people owed him, not the other way around. He’d designed it that way. As long as he didn’t have to lose his fucking temper around her, he could manage that side of himself fairly well.
He sighed again and rose from his chair to walk to the window. Why should she be pressured into his world? If she wasn’t so bloody beautiful, he’d let her find a nice but dull man who would give her a quiet life. Instead, he was refusing to let her go and was only offering a world full of deception and lies, not to mention the sexual world he would be introducing her to. The thought of his own regrettable but ever-present past sent shudders of uncertainty and indecision through him as he wondered how she would react to that Alexander White. Nobody liked that man much. Christ, he didn’t like him much and he’d created him. Still, he’d made a lot of money out of him.
More importantly, why on earth did he f
eel the need to express his own fucking emotions around her? It was pathetic. He’d even felt himself lowering his own head with thoughts of shame or disgrace when she had overwhelmed him with some level of grace and dignity that he hadn’t believed was even possible in this life. For fuck’s sake, why did she have to be so perfect?
Too damn perfect.
He also knew she’d be brilliant at the game he played. She already held people in the palm of her hand without even realising she was doing it. They fell for her charms because she was real, soft somehow, and giving. All he needed to do was help her see it. She’d match him flawlessly, but the moment he taught her and guided her, she’d also see the real him. She’d be inside him and he really wasn’t sure if he could handle it or even wanted to. He’d been on his own for so long; he was completely in control when he was on his own and the thought of letting someone through his walls was fucking terrifying. Two people had been through those walls and even they had only been through them a little when allowed. Neither of them were female, and neither of them had evoked feelings from him quite as much as she was currently doing.
He pressed his hand to the glass and remembered her body in front of him as he’d buried himself inside her body and her inside his soul. The slick feeling of their bodies rubbing against each other in a film of glistening sweat, and the way she utterly surrendered to her own needs was beyond compare. Her long, lean legs that went on for a fucking eternity and the way her arse had arched into him with absolute need and desire. He’d never met a woman with such an innate and natural need to submit without entirely letting go of her own wants and requests.
She was no masochist and he would have to be careful, but she showed every sign of accepting his preferences. Fucking hell, he was getting hard again just thinking about it. That was also happening a lot lately - insatiable, relentless hard-ons. Just like when she’d dragged his hand up to her throat and he’d almost fucking exploded inside her.
Shaking his head again, he pinched his brow and huffed out a long breath. God, why hadn’t he just ignored her and moved on to another woman? Some simple beauty who would just take what they were given and beg for more. Someone who wouldn’t consume him and pressure him into this connection that she seemed to command from him every time she was near. Conner was right, he wasn’t ready for this, didn’t understand how to be open enough for it or how to relax and enjoy it without the irrational paranoia seeping in to haunt him again. How the fuck other people did this normal shit was completely beyond his grasp.
It puzzled him really. He was usually so totally disciplined with himself, and yet being with or thinking about her seemed to spark some unknown sentiment inside, something that made him feel out of control and if he was honest, slightly lost again. After all this time managing and keeping his anger and fear buried, why the fuck did he still feel the need to continue seeing her? Why would he choose to let someone too close, because she was and he could feel that, too. He’d had plenty of very attractive women and not one of them had had such an impact. Not one of them had come close to seeing the real man behind the businessman, The mask of one anyway.
He moved back towards his desk and picked up the phone. His default setting to deal with frustration or confusion was to get angry and discipline something or someone. What he needed to do was get his own house in order, shout some fucking orders around and get some results from his staff. Something was wrong with the Shanghai deal; he could feel it in his bones but couldn’t put his finger on the problem. It just felt uncomfortable and he didn’t know whether it was just his mood or a real problem. It was by far the largest deal he had ever tried to pull off and it would double if not treble his status and wealth the moment the contract was signed. He’d spent nearly a year double crossing, manipulating, persuading and inevitably paying so that he could be in the position he was now. He wasn’t far away either. It should all be sorted by the New Year, but he needed to keep his eye on the ball. The one great thing about being such a fucking arsehole was that he was constantly on the lookout for the next fucking arsehole just waiting to steal his glory.
Swiping his finger across his phone, he dialled.
“Tate, where’s that bloody revised contract? You said you’d have it here by two.” He really wasn’t that arsed; he just needed to shout at someone. Tate Westfield was by far the best contract lawyer in London. There definitely wouldn’t be any holes in his work.
“Fuck off, Alex. You don’t get to yell at me like one of your women. Besides it’s only one thirty, you dick.” Alex laughed at the retort. He had a great respect for Tate, mainly because of his complete inability to be subservient to anyone. They’d had a few arguments early on in his employment, but finally Alex had relented. His work was just too good to let him run to a competitor.
“What’s got you all fidgety anyway?”
Another thing Tate was good at, reading people. He didn’t need to see a person to know what they were thinking and he could also decide in a split second how to respond to a difficult situation.
“I’m not fidgety. I’m... perplexed by something.”
“Right, well, could you either screw something or hit something and piss off. I have to get a contract sorted by two or my shit head of an employer will probably implode.”
With that, the phone went dead. Ten seconds later it rang again.
“You okay?” Tate asked.
“Yeah,” Alex replied, smiling and ending the call.
Fuck it.
Scooping up the phone and his suit jacket, he walked to the door and straight across the foyer toward Louisa, eyeing her legs as he reached her desk. Such a waste really.
“Sir, what can I do for you?” She smiled at him, her dark eyes peering over the top of her glasses at him with a calculation he had always admired.
“Have every department send me a financial report by tomorrow morning,” he clipped as he turned for the elevator.
“Yes, sir,” she said.
“I’m going out for a while. I need to do something.” He smiled at his own enthusiasm.
“You have a three thirty with the Trenton Lawyers. Will you be back?” she questioned. Oh for fuck’s sake, he’d forgotten another meeting. Christ, what was the woman doing to him? He stopped and turned back towards her.
“No, cancel it. Actually, don’t. Tell Tate he can do it. I’m sure he’ll find it highly amusing.”
“Yes, sir. Anything else?” He looked at her for a moment.
“You look tired, Louisa. Why don’t you take the afternoon off and spend some time with Gillian?” He raised an eyebrow at her.
“Umm, are you alright, sir?” she asked, surprise in her voice as she put her pen on the desk and stared at him.
“Yes, fine. Don’t give me a chance to change my mind.” She chuckled and turned back to her screen, tapping manically.
“Thank you then. That would be wonderful. I’ll rearrange everything and be on my way.”
“In fact, take tomorrow as well. I’ll only be in for an hour in the afternoon and I don’t need you until Monday.” She peered over her glasses with a frown and a questioning eyebrow.
“Good god, sir, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you smile for so long. Are you sure you’re okay?” she said with a smirk at him. He walked off toward his private elevator and swiped his card.
“Have a good weekend, Louisa,” he called over his shoulder.
“She is rather beautiful, sir. I’m glad to see you happy.” He turned as he got in the lift and grinned at his PA’s intelligence.
“Yes, Louisa, she is.”
On reaching the entrance to the building, he saw Andrews pull up to the kerb and launched down the steps to the car, opening the door before Andrews even got out. Launching, really? God, he was acting like he had a schoolboy crush.
“Where to, sir?” Andrews asked.
“Barrington’s.”
“Yes, sir,” he replied as he pulled out into very heavy London traffic.
~
&nb
sp; Looking out of the window, he felt himself get a little giddy inside. He couldn’t help but chuckle at his own immaturity. No one had ever made him feel nervous before and yet he couldn’t wait to see her, to hold her again. Couldn’t wait to see that perfect mouth that begged him to kiss her and those wonderfully sinful chocolate eyes that pulled him towards her, daring him to show himself and let her inside. He couldn’t wait to get his hands in her silky red hair either and grab a handful to remind her what she wanted. The way she moved with such grace, it would be almost ethereal when she simply embraced herself and finally let go.
Pulling out his phone, he thumbed down to Sarah DeVille.
“Sarah, do you still have that diamond choker?” he said evenly.
“Hello, Alexander. Yes I’m fine, thanks. How are you?” she said in her clipped English accent.
“Do you still have it?” he asked again, little time for pleasantries.
“Yes, I do. Why?” she said tersely.
“Could you box it for me? I’ll be there in about thirty minutes by the look of this traffic.” He sighed inwardly.
“Is she a brunette or a blonde?” she asked, coldly.
“No, Sarah, this is entirely different. Could you just put it in something... elegant, beautiful? It’s not part of a plan this time,” he said, feeling protective for some bizarre reason.
“Why, Alexander White, has someone affected you in some way?” She barked out her aristocratic laugh.
He chuckled. He’d known Sarah a while and she knew him very well. He’d always liked her. She was incredibly devilish and sinful enough to fuck. Not to mention she was typically his type - blonde, curvy and tall. If she hadn’t been married to Henry, he might have seriously considered her a good distraction and suspected she could have kept him entertained for quite some time, but he did have a few boundaries he wouldn’t cross these days. Not many, but a few.
“I’ll see you soon, Sarah.” He laughed out loud as he ended the call.
Seeing White Page 21
