FORFEIT
An erotic novel
By Zara Stoneley
Published by Xcite Books Ltd – 2012
ISBN 9781908766915
Copyright © Zara Stoneley 2012
The right of Zara Stoneley to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
The story contained within this book is a work of fiction. Names and characters are the product of the author’s imagination and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be copied, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, electrostatic, magnetic tape, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the written permission of the publishers: Xcite Books, Suite 11769, 2nd Floor, 145-157 St John Street, London EC1V 4PY
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Prologue
There were three reasons Cat Latham hated Brent Mulholland. One; he’d once made her beg, practically plead, for his big, hard cock, and she never begged for anything. Two; he’d never offered to do it again, which made her just another notch on his no doubt badly scarred bedpost – and she was nobody’s “just another notch”. Even if she knew it had been a horrendous on the rebound kind of mistake. Even if she’d sworn to herself she wouldn’t do it again. Even if she’d given him the best “don’t touch me” look she could muster the next day. She still hated him for not being bothered. Oh yes, and three. Worst of all, number three; the one that made everything ten times worse. He was her boss.
Which, in her book, were three damned good reasons for trying to steer clear of him; something she’d managed to do quite well since that night she’d been practically welded to his body, two long, tortuous weeks ago. She swallowed hard; just thinking about it was sending a rush of heat to her face, and not just her face if she was honest. Her whole body was one hot flush every time she thought about what he’d done to her. And what she’d done back.
Not that he’d made avoidance difficult; he’d never made a move on her again, but it had been a special kind of torture seeing him every day. Her whole body just jumped to attention, sensing his presence the second he walked in the room. That enticing all-male smell would tantalize her as he stepped closer, making her greedy, and she just had to look. Just had to devour that strong, hard body with her eyes and hope he didn’t notice.
Except she had a horrible feeling he knew. And that made it worse; which was part of the reason she was leaving. The other part being that, much as she loved her job, her salary just wasn’t enough to cover the basics since first her ex, then her best mate, had shown her the door. She had to find a new door. And they didn’t come cheap.
She’d thought that dropping the resignation letter in his in-tray would work just fine, he’d had her, moved on, so what did he care? Then she’d got the summons. Which rather screwed things up, because a one-to-one interview with Brent was the last thing she needed right now.
In her head she knew he was bad news, and the last type of man she needed was the type who screwed with her head and opened doors she didn’t want opening, but her body just thought he was hot. Hot in a way that made her insides melt and her breasts perk up all on their own. Even when she knew he was a “screw ’em and leave ’em” type of guy; a “use ’em and abuse ’em” type of guy. The last man on the planet she should touch, let alone mess with.
She tried not to squirm at the thought, clamping her thighs tighter together. For God’s sake, Cat, concentrate; you’re here to say goodbye, not to beg him to let you ride him just one more time.
Cat stood in front of the desk and tried to switch off the part of her brain that turned to mush at the sight of hard muscles and piercing blue eyes. Well, these hard muscles and blue eyes in particular. And it wasn’t going well. His strong, capable hands were resting on the desk: broad palms that she knew could burn up your skin; long, strong fingers that could reach bits of you that were just begging to be touched. And he was leaning forward, his thick, tousled hair almost within reach. Reminding her of the last time she’d been this close to him, when she had her fingers wound into its soft darkness, pulling him closer, hard against her pussy as his fluttering tongue sent spirals of anticipation deep into her core, anticipation that turned to a throbbing, moaning need.
She shuddered. She didn’t need that kind of sex, any kind of sex, and she totally didn’t need him. She was smart; an honours degree told her that. Smart enough to know bad boy studs like Brent were the last thing she needed.
Falling in lust with Jamie had been bad enough, but to shag Brent on the rebound had been plain fucking crazy stupid. Experienced, street-wise Brent who’d known exactly which words to whisper, exactly how to touch her, exactly how to make her beg and scream in a way good girls shouldn’t. And he’d left her feeling like he’d uncovered a deep down part of her that should have stayed hidden.
And then he’d walked. Proved she was the slut Jamie had told her she was; nothing but a fuck buddy. Jamie had said he felt like he didn’t know her at all. And after her night with the boss boy she felt she didn’t either. She scared herself.
She had thought she loved Jamie, thought he loved her. But love, it seemed, only extended to shared macaroni and the missionary position, and when she’d offered to kiss more than his mouth his hard-on had disappeared quicker than a rat down a drainpipe. He wanted a wife, not a whore, he said.
More like a bloody mother.
Which definitely wasn’t what Brent wanted; Brent wanted dirty sex. Out-and-out dirty; which had shocked her, and excited her, repeatedly. And she wasn’t sure which was the worst.
‘What’s this?’ The deep, silky voice sent a shiver down her spine. He flicked a long finger at the unopened letter on his desk, then looked up, his blue gaze meeting her head on.
She tried to ignore the glow of heat that rushed to her cheeks. Tried to ignore the way he was looking at her, as though he could read every embarrassing thought that was racing through her head. Tried to ignore the way her stomach was starting to do somersaults in response. She swallowed hard. ‘And there was I, thinking you’d be bright enough to read.’ Hoped he couldn’t hear the husky edge to her voice.
‘Humour me.’ He was tieless, the top buttons of his shirt undone, just enough for her to see a distracting patch of silky, tanned skin, the slight hint of dark hair. Dark hair that she knew … She snapped her eyes back to his face with a guilty start.
‘I’m quitting … It’s my resignation letter.’
‘You can’t just leave, no one does.’
Oh yeah? He was being so goddamned laid back, like he was about everything; well, nearly everything. Did he expect her to just agree and walk away? ‘Well, someone does now.’ She bit her lip, matched the challenge in his stare. ‘A week’s notice, I think that’s all you can hold me to, isn’t it?’
‘I thought you liked it here?’ His eyes had narrowed.
‘I’ve been offered a better job, you don’t pay me enough.’ He was beginning to annoy her, all he had to do was say OK and let her walk out, but he had to play games, didn’t he? To a man like him, power was everything.
‘Oh, don’t I?’ The edges of his mouth curled just enough for her to notice, which annoyed her. The fact he was doing it and the fact that she’d noticed.
‘No, actually you don’t.’ She glared. Which seemed to amuse him even more; the man neede
d a slap. ‘This isn’t funny. Do you even know what I get paid?’
‘I try to make sure people get what they’re worth.’ His voice was a lazy drawl; his eyes were drifting slowly over her body. Boy, she really could slap him now.
‘Well I’m obviously worth more to someone else.’
His eyes seemed to darken and for a second she thought she’d gone too far, let her temper outweigh commonsense. He raised a hand and she fought the urge to flinch, touched her lips nervously with the tip of her tongue, and then watched as he ran strong fingers through his hair. His head tipped slightly. ‘How about I make an offer you can’t refuse?’ His eyes never left her.
She would have laughed normally at the melodramatic words, but he looked deadly serious. And she did like her job here; it was challenging but fun. It was just the seeing him bit that she didn’t like. And the pay; she’d not been messing, it wasn’t enough for her to rent anywhere on her own. And going home to mother wasn’t an option.
When Jamie had chucked her out her best mate had offered her a room, but now her best mate had just announced the boyfriend was moving in. The biggest dick out, and he hated her. Dick in, her out.
Brent seemed to be watching the thoughts run through her head. She hesitated. She could cope with seeing him every day, she could get over it. After all, it had only been one shag. ‘What kind of offer?’ She waited; 2 per cent, 3, feeling like a horse at market. How much was she worth to Mr Hotshot?
And then he smiled a wicked, toe-curling smile that raised her internal temperature a notch. He leant back slightly in his chair, the crystal eyes never leaving hers, and made her an offer she really hadn’t expected at all.
‘How about you marry me?’
She stared, aware her mouth was slightly open, and not in an attractive way. ‘How about you get serious?’
‘I am serious. I need a wife. It’s just business, of course.’ He shrugged, but his eyes were running over her, gauging the reaction. Which her body displayed in its usually wanton way, her nipples starting to harden to pebbles. Maybe not the response he was looking for right now. Or then again …
She clamped her mouth shut; she didn’t mix business and pleasure and anyway, how the hell could this just be business? And she wasn’t ready to be anyone’s wife, not even his; she wasn’t going to be at anybody’s beck and call.
‘Just for a year, so I can get approval for my place on the board, then I’ll give you a divorce and a year’s pay. I just need to look respectable.’
‘Who says I’m respectable?’
‘Well, to be honest, I’m hoping you’re not.’ The husky note in his voice raised goosebumps on every inch of her body.
She fought to ignore the sensation. ‘So what you’re saying is you’re desperate?’
He grinned. ‘I’m never desperate, sweetheart.’ Unlike you. ‘But look, we know each other. We know we could put up with each other; how bad could it be? A win-win situation?’ There was a question in his voice, but she could sense his confidence.
‘I wouldn’t say one shag constitutes know.’
‘I bet I know you as well as anyone.’ The chocolate-smooth voice tugged at her stomach, made her throat dry.
She ran her tongue over suddenly parched lips, then forced herself to laugh. God, he was cocky. Probably right, but cocky. And no one really knew her, which was how she liked it. How she intended to keep it.
‘On one condition.’ She paused, met his steady gaze. She could do this; as long as she kept her distance she could handle him, handle herself.
‘Which is?’
‘No sex.’ Which, she guessed from his sharp intake of breath wasn’t at all what he’d been expecting. Deuce.
Chapter One
One year later
Cat read through the e-mail one last time on her mobile. Just to check she wasn’t dreaming. Why the fuck had she been so stupid? Why, when she was so close to escaping him, had she gone and broken the terms of his bloody agreement? She’d had one drink, with one man. She closed her eyes. And now there was a price to pay. Or no divorce.
Your clothes will be delivered by courier at 5 p.m. Wear nothing but what you find in the box. A girl will arrive at 7 p.m. and will apply your make-up and style your hair. A car will pick you up at 8 p.m. and bring you to the hotel; the driver will provide you with a key card which will operate the lift up to the penthouse. Don’t speak. Do exactly what you’re told. Enjoy.
She felt a shiver of anticipation run down her spine. It was the word “enjoy” that unnerved her most. This marriage hadn’t been about enjoyment; it had been about one long fight trying to avoid it.
But the ordeal should have now been over, leaving her with enough money to start over. Except now she had to pay the forfeit or he didn’t sign the divorce papers.
All she had to do was agree to act out 12 fantasies, one for each month they had been married. So she’d agreed.
Cat stepped from the plush hotel lobby into the lift and stared at her reflection in the mirror. She didn’t recognise the girl staring back. It wasn’t her, it was some glamorous sex kitten out to seduce. Her heart was beating an uneven tattoo as she bit her lip nervously. Her whole body said one thing. Sex. From the killer “fuck-me” heels, all the way up to the red lipstick and heavy kohl eyes. She shifted her weight experimentally, sending one hip out, and the satin of the dress parted obligingly to show a long, stocking-clad leg. The heavy material caressed the inside of her thigh, sending a shiver of naughtiness through her. She ran her tongue over her lips nervously, the dampness glistening under the bright lights. Fuck me, her whole image said. Well, actually it said fuck me, please, in a sophisticated way.
Suddenly she realised that the lift had stopped and the doors were open. And she could see him reflected behind her in the mirror. Watching her. Waiting for her. At once both familiar and a stranger. His dark waves were slicked back, the crisp white shirt emphasising his broad shoulders, the top buttons open, revealing the first of the dark hairs that she knew led down to his stomach, all the way to the hard-on waiting for her in the tailored trousers.
She spun round, and for a second she just stared. He was gorgeous. Even with all his clothes on there was something about him that was almost animal-like. Primal. Her mouth went suddenly dry, but the heat that had coiled in her stomach the moment she saw him was already spreading between her thighs.
‘Come in.’ His voice was as deep as ever, but the normal honey coating was gone. There was a harsh edge she’d never heard before, a roughness that made her aware of every tingling inch of her body.
She stepped out of the lift, conscious of the sway of her hips that the high heels emphasised, paused for a moment to let her wrap slip from her shoulders onto the floor, as her instructions had told her to. Then she took a step closer, and now she could see his eyes properly, dark eyes that were searing a path over her body with a hunger he couldn’t disguise.
Fully dressed, she felt more naked and exposed than she ever had as he studied her wordlessly. The satin dress he had sent skated over her full breasts, exposing more than it covered as it shimmered down, hugging her waist, caressing her hips, slashed from waist to floor to expose a slim thigh, the top of her stockings disappearing tantalisingly below the fabric. At each step she had taken the soft material skated over her skin like a caress, tightened over her butt as though he had his hands on it, the taut silence heightening every sensation.
He stood up slowly, still taller than her even when she was wearing the come-and-fuck-me heels. She didn’t speak; just watched him wordlessly as he stood inches from her. His scent surrounded her, that masculine mix of aftershave, soap, of his arousal, mingled together, stirring her body. He was behind her now, his breath warm against the back of her neck, then he reached out, ran the back of his hand down the side of her face, down her neck, the gentle touch scorching a trail. Her tongue darted out, dampening her lips, and she was dimly aware that she was swaying under his touch, swaying into his hand. Against his body. His gen
tle laugh sent a shiver down her, then his lips were on her neck, his mouth sucking the soft spot where it met her shoulder, his hands gently kneading the top of her arms. She closed her eyes, clenching her hands into fists as he licked, nibbled and sucked, sending shards of desire straight between her legs. She clenched her thighs together, wanting to heighten the throbbing sensation in her pussy.
And then his warm hands were on her waist, burning through the thin fabric, wandering down to her hips, kneading, caressing until she had to close her eyes, lean back against him. She could feel the length of his erection against her back, hard and long, and as his hands drifted down towards her mound she wriggled against him. Moved her hands over his, wanting to push them further down, harder against her, wanting the strong fingers to feel her wetness, her need. Willing him to push her forward, roll her dress up to her hips, and relieve the burning ache between her legs.
His hands skated over her thighs, thumbs tantalizingly close to her pussy, and she groaned, her hands drifting up to her breasts.
‘I didn’t tell you to do that.’ The soft words against her ear held a command as he pushed her hands down, and in one movement he had unzipped the dress and stepped back to watch it slither down and pool round her ankles. ‘I’m taking care of you tonight and all you have to do is let me.’ She could feel the dampness between her thighs at the whispered words. ‘That’s all, darling.’ She knew he could tell that was the hardest thing in the world for her. Unless she really didn’t have any choice.
He spun her round, his eyes hooded now, predatory as he took her in. The stockings and suspenders, the G-string, the lace bra her nipples were forcing themselves uncomfortably against, the abrasive material sending a new wave of need straight to her crotch.
‘Over there.’ His voice had dropped to a low note of command that resonated through her body, a sound that dried her mouth, tightened her throat. He nodded and she half-turned, suddenly noticing the large floor-to-ceiling window with the city lights spread below it. ‘Stand against the glass, facing me.’ One sheet of glass between her arse and every person that passed by. She wanted to complain, but she’d promised not to, and now the cold glass against her buttocks made her gasp, then sent a new wave of anticipation through her. ‘Hold the curtains both side of you and don’t let go until I say you can.’
Forfeit Page 1
