by Tawny Weber
Releasing her mouth, he let his head fall back to the carpet and handed her the foil packet. “Ride me,” he demanded.
In quick moves made jerky by impatience and need, she sheathed his straining erection in the ribbed-for-her-pleasure condom and rose to her knees.
One leg on either side of his hips, she locked eyes with Mitch. Excruciatingly slowly, she lowered herself one delicious inch at a time on his rock-hard cock until she’d taken all of him inside her.
With a shuddering moan, she ran her hands up the sides of her body, her skin so sensitized the barely there move made her want to scream with pleasure. She slid her hands over her breasts and up her throat, then speared them through her hair. Lifting her arms overhead, she gave silent thanks for the delicious treat she was about to enjoy.
Then she set out to pleasure the hell out of herself. Riding him, slowly at first and with ever-increasing strokes, she let the tension build. Tighter, deeper, need coiled low in her belly. Belle’s gaze stayed locked on Mitch’s, watching his eyes to gauge his pleasure. Fingers meshed as they held hands, their focus completely, totally on the sensations building in both of them as Belle rode him.
Her climax just a breath away, her body started to shake as she tried to hold off. She needed to see him come first. Had to know she could give him as much pleasure as he gave her. With that in mind, trying as hard as she could to hold off the pounding orgasmic waves, she swirled her hips, adding a deep undulating move to each thrust.
Mitch’s eyes went dark, then closed for a second as he fought for control. Belle’s breath hitched and she did it again. He hissed, his gaze meeting hers once more.
She licked her lips and, their hands still entwined, raised one of his to scrape her teeth along his knuckles, to run her tongue over his palm.
Mitch exploded. His guttural cry of pleasure set hers free. Belle felt the power of his climax, her own body shuddered with wave after wave of the most incredible sensations.
Panting, she dropped onto his chest. Mitch’s arms wrapped around her in a hug that was more emotional than sexual and brought tears to Belle’s eyes. Just orgasm overload, she assured herself as she struggled to catch her breath.
“Now aren’t you sorry you didn’t take me up on my offer earlier?” she teased, trying to lighten the mood.
“Better late than never,” he said with a laugh, his own breath sounding labored. “And keep in mind, I only get better with age.”
Didn’t that image simply boggle the mind? Belle shifted her legs so they lay alongside Mitch and hummed at the mini-climax she felt at the move.
“Tell you what, gorgeous. If you only improve with age, you’re going to be off the charts by the time you’re forty.”
Mitch snickered but Belle fell silent, realizing she wouldn’t know. She’d be nowhere around in eight years when Mitch hit that milestone. Some other woman would likely be reaping the rewards of his age-improved sexual games. But not Belle. She’d thrown away—or rather, run away from—the right to know.
The idea made her miserable. Her stomach pitched and her eyes filled. Blaming it on emotional overload brought on by four orgasms in a row, Belle sniffed and rolled away to hide her tears. What now? Did she pat him on the ass, hand him his jeans and get back to business? It sounded so cold when all she wanted was to curl up in his arms and be held.
“Getting that good takes a lot of practice,” Mitch mused, wrapping his arms around her from behind and tugging her back against his hot, naked body. “I have a few ideas I’ve wanted to try out on you, with you.”
The painful tension eased from Belle’s body, only to be replaced by tension of the sexual kind. Much happier with horny over weepy, she turned in Mitch’s arms and grinned. “Do tell. I’m always intrigued by self-improvement programs.”
He laughed and in a single move stood and scooped her up in his arms. Belle linked her hands behind his head and cuddled, a soft glow of joy settling in her chest.
“We need a mattress for what I have in mind,” he told her, heading for the bedroom. “Something soft and comfortable, since next time I want you on the bottom.”
“Sounds prosaic,” she teased as he dropped her on the bed.
“Prosaic, my ass,” he growled, kneeling at the bottom of the bed to take hold of her foot, still shod in her strappy sandal. A few quick flicks of his fingers and he’d unstrapped first one, then the other. Sliding his hands up her body in a way that left yummy tingles, he reached her mouth and planted a quick, hard kiss on her lips.
Before Belle could respond, he rolled away and shot a swift glance around the room. Her open closet apparently offered exactly what he was looking for, because he leaped from the bed and grabbed two belts and a silk scarf.
Belle’s jaw dropped when he grabbed her wrist and, using a soft suede belt, tied it to the headboard.
“You’re kidding,” she breathed, scared, intrigued and totally turned on, all at the same time.
He didn’t answer, instead holding out his hand and waiting. With a silent gulp, her breath coming a little faster as her body heated, Belle put the fingers of her free hand into his. Mitch tied it to the headboard as well, then lay on the bed next to her.
His gaze moved over her captive body like a caress. Her nipples peaked at his look, damp heat pooling between her legs. He stared for so long, she started to squirm.
Meeting her gaze, Mitch’s eyes were hot and intense, filled with sexual promises. Belle pressed her lips together to keep from whimpering.
“I’ve wanted to tie you up for what feels like forever,” he said softly. “Keep you here, at my mercy where you can’t run or hide. Now that I have you, I’m going to touch you, kiss you, taste you.” He ran the length of silk fabric between his fingers, then trailed it along her hip, over her quivering belly, and draped it gently over her aching breasts. “I’m going to use my tongue and my fingers. I’m going to drive you crazy.”
Then he shifted, pulling the fabric from her breasts so the silky texture teased her nipples. Belle gasped and pressed her thighs together to ease the building pressure.
“And I’m going to do it all while you’re blindfolded,” he told her. Belle’s gasp was lost in his mouth as he kissed her senseless while wrapping the jade-green silk over her eyes and tying it gently behind her head.
Belle planted her bare feet on the mattress, raising her pelvis in supplication. Mitch moved so he was between her widespread legs, his hard dick brushing against her aching center, but not relieving any tension, not entering her. She felt him lean forward, the mattress dipping on either side of her as he supported himself.
Holding her breath, she waited. Damp and hot, his tongue licked one nipple, then the other. A gentle gust of air teased the already hard peaks into aching stiffness. Belle couldn’t hold back her whimper now. She needed something, anything.
“Do me,” she begged.
“My way.”
His way was killing her.
Still keeping that delicious pressure against her clit, he shifted. His hands cupped her breasts, pressing them together, his thumbs working her nipples as his mouth worked them in turn. Sucking, nibbling, licking. Teeth and tongue, just rough enough to make her crazy with need.
Oh, man. She was going to come before he even reached her aching center. She just knew it. And, she realized as the orgasm exploded behind her eyes, she just loved it.
Later, much, much later, wrapped in plush towels warmed by the heated towel bar, Belle and Mitch fell to her bed in a state of exhausted pleasure. Her eyelids drooping, she glanced at the clock and yawned. Five hours ago, they’d stopped off here so she could change her clothes for the tour.
And now she was floating on a cloud of sensual satisfaction like nothing she’d ever felt before. A tiny frown, all she had the energy for, creased her brow. If she hadn’t messed up, she could have been floating like this for years. At least a few, she told herself, knowing the trophy-bride role wouldn’t have worked for long.
Her thoughts ran
like a snag in a favorite sweater, irritating and ugly, ruining her mood. If she’d been a trophy then, what was she now? Why was Mitch with her? Sudden lust? Tension seeped down her spine. What if she fell for him again? It’d hurt badly enough before, when she’d known it was only infatuation. What if this time, now that they’d had the incredible sex and she was able to deal with him on a one-on-one adult level, she really fell hard? What if he broke her heart?
Panic tightened the muscles across her back, her breath starting to hitch.
Mitch’s hand curved around her waist, pulling her closer. His warm breath on her back was all it took to melt the icy fear. Determined not to ruin what had been the best sex of her life, she shoved her fears aside and let her mind empty.
“We missed exploring the grounds,” she murmured sleepily.
Ever the gentleman, Mitch tugged the blankets over them before curling up behind her and draping one arm around her waist.
“Tomorrow,” he said, his voice sounding as worn-out as she felt.
Tomorrow. They had tomorrow. Belle drifted off to sleep, the satisfied smile on her face due more to that promise than the fact that she’d just had the most incredible sex of her life.
8
“IT WAS...INCREDIBLE. Totally amazing,” Belle rhapsodized over the phone. Her mind was still filled with the memory of her and Mitch, naked. Two hours had passed since he’d left her bed after a hot bout of early-morning delight and she could still taste him. She shifted, just a little, and her unused-to-such-wild-sex body felt the reminder of him inside her.
“But, I don’t get it—when I’m with Mitch, I totally lose control,” she admitted to her best friend from the very bed where she’d had that wild sex. Now, though, it was man-less as she carefully applied a second coat of blushing burgundy to her toenails.
“Well, good sex will do that to a gal. I thought you’d have realized that by now,” Sierra returned grumpily. Belle felt a surge of guilt at the worry she was causing her partner.
Not enough to drop the subject, though.
“Ha-ha,” Belle deadpanned, capping the polish and setting it on the bedside table. “I mean, I keep...” She trailed off, needing to talk about it but realizing how stupid she’d sound.
“Keep what? Having premature orgasms? Screaming in ecstasy loud enough to bring the gardeners running? Welcoming your climax with a litany of filthy porn words?”
Belle’s jaw dropped. Not at the words, but at the tart tone. She pulled the phone away from her ear to stare at it in shock, then flipped over on the bed so she lay on her stomach.
“Something’s wrong,” she decided aloud. “Is there a problem with Eventfully Yours? Are you okay? What’s going on?”
Silence. Then she actually heard Sierra shrug, the fabric of whatever she was wearing brushing against the phone. “No problems. Nothing’s going on. Company is fine.”
Shorthand for Sierra didn’t want to talk about it.
One of the cornerstones of their lifelong friendship was knowing when to push the other and when to back off and let her stew. Belle’s telltale clue to leave Sierra alone had always been how many millimeters her lower lip stuck out. A champion pouter, Sierra was open to commiserating if she had the lip out. But if she’d sucked it in, concentration-style, she was off-limits.
Belle silently cursed the distance between them and tried to figure out what to do.
“What lipstick are you wearing?” she asked.
“What kind of question is that?” When Belle didn’t say anything, Sierra admitted, “I’m not wearing any right now.”
Chewed it all off. Definitely off-limits. Automatically backing away from the confrontation, Belle shifted back to the original topic. “I feel like an idiot,” she admitted, “but I keep losing my temper with Mitch. You know me, I don’t get angry. This is so bizarre.”
“You do, too, get angry,” Sierra pointed out. “You just don’t allow yourself to express it. You’ll end up with ulcers if you don’t learn to let go of some of that, you know.”
“Apparently I’ve found my release valve.”
“Sex’ll work every time,” her partner agreed. “But since I’m not getting any, I’d rather talk about something else, okay?”
Sierra would never be in danger of ulcers. Despite her unwillingness to share whatever was bothering her, she never bottled up her emotions. Why bother, she usually said, when it was so much more fun to let them spew all over like a well-shaken bottle of soda.
Except now, when she seemed to be holding them in even better than Belle ever had.
“Okay, so, um, did you get my notes about the sex-themed ideas?” Belle asked, obediently changing the topic. “I’m going to need additional staff to help set up for the pre-events. I think Mitch said something about his security team running checks on everyone to guarantee a complete media blackout.”
“We’ve got two dozen independent contractors on file who’ve passed top security screenings. That should be enough, shouldn’t it?”
Belle glanced at her leather portfolio, flipping pages with the pad of her finger so as not to smudge her fresh polish. “That should work, in addition to Lakeside’s serving staff.”
The two of them went over details for the upcoming opening, plus ideas for possible follow-up contracts, such as holiday-themed sex and weddings à la kink.
“I talked to a couple of bigwigs when I was handling the CEO gig last week,” Sierra said after they’d wound up business. “You know, just a few questions about who they think the top developers are, what they’d do in today’s real estate climate and economy, that kind of chitchatty thing.”
Belle sat up and drew her knees to her chest. She glanced at the tab in her notebook titled Dad and grimaced. She’d been so busy getting mad at, then getting on top of, Mitch, she’d forgotten the most important reason she was here.
“And?”
“Things just suck right now. They all said the same thing your dad did. It’s not the time to build. In their opinion, anyone sitting on a big fat piece of land is stuck with it for the next little while.”
“The next little while will bankrupt Daddy.”
Sierra gave a sympathetic sigh. “I know.”
Out of the blue, Belle thought back to the contract she’d seen on Diana’s desk. There was a luxury spa in the resort lobby—fancy and very upscale. And oddly enough, it was not owned by the hotel but was leasing the space from Lakeside. Was that an option for her dad’s hotels? An additional income? It was worth looking into.
“Let me talk to a couple of people,” she told Sierra. “I thought of something earlier, but I need to get some details to figure out if it even makes sense.”
Belle stared out the window at the gorgeous golf course. Morning sun washed it in gentle light. Lush, green and exclusive. Her father’s hotels were lovely, but not in the same category as Lakeside. This resort would cater to an elite clientele, whereas Forsham’s catered to upscale business travelers, wedding parties and couples looking for indulgent getaways.
Maybe the spa angle was the answer to increasing the cash flow until the real estate market turned around and her father could sell the properties without losing everything. She watched the gardeners putter along the green in a golf cart, stopping every ten feet or so to check on the bizarre gopher population explosion, and sighed.
“I’m going to dinner with Mitch tonight,” she said. “I’ll see if I can get some hypothetical advice or something.”
Sierra made a sound that could be taken as agreement, then said, “Just be sure you ask him before you throw your next fit.”
“What? Why would I throw a fit?”
“I thought temper tantrums were your new foreplay.”
“Ha.” Belle started to laugh as she hung up, then stopped. What if he was only interested in her when she was pissy? Did he only want her because she was a challenge now? Unlike before when she’d tried to serve herself up on a platter?
She told herself she was being silly. But still,
her initial reaction was to pick a fight as soon as she saw him. That wasn’t fair, though. She had to know. Which meant she’d be an absolute doll all night, flirt to her heart’s content with nary a hint of anger or confrontation, and see how it went.
Hell no, she wasn’t going to take the easy way out. Belle gathered all the confidence she could and squared her shoulders. She’d have him begging for sex again and she’d do it with a smile on her face.
* * *
“REECE?” MITCH FROWNED as he crossed the lobby to greet the tall guy in the cowboy hat. “What’re you doing here?”
Unselfconsciously, he gave Reece a quick man hug, the arm-around-the-shoulder kind that he knew wouldn’t embarrass his ex–Green Beret cousin.
“I thought I’d drop in, check the place out,” Reece said in his slow drawl.
“Check up on your investment, you mean?” Mitch asked, referring to the fact that all the family members were stockholders on the MC Board of Directors.
“Nah, just wanted to see what kind of trouble your sorry ass has been getting up to.” Reece made a show of looking around. Mitch followed his gaze, taking in the towering potted plants, the glossy marble-inlaid floor and ornate rosewood check-in desk. Reece gave a nod. “Long way from home, cuz.”
“Ain’t that the truth.” Mitch pulled back his shoulders and grinned with pride. “You think the whole family will turn out for the grand opening blowout event?”
Reece pulled a face and gave a slow shrug. “Not so sure about that. I mean, if I read your reports right, you’re shifting focus from a ritzy resort to a sexually charged amusement park for the rich and famous. Might be a little racy for Grammy Lynn, if ya know what I mean.”
Mitch snickered. “Grammy Lynn sent me a list of suggestions to make sure we were offering enough sexy options.”
“I shoulda known.” Like everything else about him, Reece’s grin was slow and easy. That smile deceived the enemy into thinking he was slow, women into thinking he was easy. They soon found out they were wrong. He was also loyal, tenacious and brilliant, but few people outside the family knew that, since Reece had a habit of keeping everyone at arm’s length.
