“Wait here until I call for you,” Beau said.
She didn’t move. Her nerves melted away. She was in Beau’s hands now and if the past few hours were any indication, it would be an experience she’d never forget.
Glass clinked. The faucet ran. After minutes had passed, Beau spoke from somewhere in the suite. “Come to the bedroom.”
“I don’t know which way,” she said. Directly in front of her was a piano and windowed door that led out to the balcony.
“You’ll find me,” he said. “And you’ll do it on your hands and knees.”
Her dry throat protested when she swallowed.
That a tyrant in everything else would also be a tyrant in the bedroom didn’t surprise her—that there would be a show of strength, a struggle of wills, an expected submission—she might have guessed. But knowing and doing were two different things. She’d never lived it. She knew girls from the club who had. Some liked it, some didn’t. For most, it wasn’t that simple.
Lola sank to her hands and knees faster than she would’ve thought. The tile was hard underneath her, but she was on the carpet soon. The dress caught between her legs while she crawled, slowing her down. Beau didn’t rush her. She went the opposite direction of a flat screen TV, past a round dining table with several chairs. As she got closer, warmer, her breath came faster and her legs seemed heavier—the tender place between them, specifically.
She found Beau on the edge of the bed, still fully dressed except for his jacket.
“Don’t stop now,” he said. “You’re almost here.”
She didn’t remember ever crawling one day of her adult life. Inside she screamed at herself to get off the floor, but she closed her eyes, inhaled and quieted it. This wasn’t about her.
Or was it? Beau had unusual power over her. She’d never been put in this position while someone else watched, nor did she think she’d allow it from anyone else, even with the money. She was still dressed, but she felt stripped and exposed. Crawling for him was a form of intimacy. She opened her eyes.
“Your struggle is a thing to watch,” Beau said just loud enough for her to hear. “If I thought you’d respond honestly, I’d ask you how it feels to submit.”
“It hurts my knees.”
A corner of his mouth lifted. “Maybe you can give me something less tactile.”
“I feel…helpless.” Vulnerability was rare for her. She’d learned young that it didn’t pay to be vulnerable. But with her helplessness came a relief that left her confused. She had no responsibility other than giving Beau what he asked for. No other choice. And it wasn’t a bad thing. “That’s what you want, isn’t it?” she asked. “Me, helpless?”
“Don’t tell me what you think I want to hear. You can tell me if you hate being on your hands and knees. Maybe I’ll let you stand.”
She stared at him, unmoving. He was going to make her say that she liked this out loud or he would take it away. She should’ve been thankful, but letting her stand felt like a punishment.
“Lola,” he said. “Everything between us lives and dies in this room. It’s safe.”
Her fingers curled into the carpet, but not with frustration. The slow throb between her legs was stronger. Could Beau see it? Smell it? He looked as if he knew. “I don’t.”
“Don’t what?”
“Hate it.” She couldn’t say much more without giving herself away. However gone she was, there was still a shred of Johnny in her she couldn’t bring herself to betray. “You make it not repulsive.”
“Well, not repulsive is something.” There was such approval in his smile that she flushed. “But it’ll be hard to do anything to you when you’re so far away.”
She finished crossing the room until she was at his feet.
He removed one cufflink, set it on the nightstand, then the other. Lola’s heart beat between her breasts. Beau rolled up one sleeve, stood and leaned over her. He gathered up her dress and pulled it over her hips. He hiked up the panties he’d bought her, wedging them between her ass cheeks. His firm hand ran soothingly over her backside as if she were a treasured plaything. She bit her lip to keep any sounds inside.
“I’m going to take you apart,” he said. “Find out what makes you feel so good it almost kills you.”
“Don’t.”
He stroked her skin until he brushed a spot that made her jolt. He made a deep, rumbling noise from his chest. “Then I’ll bring you back to life. Put you back together.”
“Don’t do it like this,” she said. “Just use me and throw me out. I’m begging you.”
“Let’s see how deep your protest goes.” He slid a fingertip under the elastic of her panties. “Mmm. Just as I suspected.”
“What?” she breathed.
“You waxed. There’s a chink in her armor.”
“I didn’t do it for you.”
“Of course not.” His hand grazed down one thigh to the top of her stocking and up again. “And your legs are shaved. I suppose that’s not for me either.”
She began to tremble lightly, alive with him so close to giving her what she’d been needing since the strip club—or longer. He circled her with two fingers and eased them in.
Her head bowed to meet the floor. She gasped when he went deeper. He murmured her name, moving in and out. Searching. At least the tile would’ve been cool against her face.
“Look at me.”
She lifted her head.
“Make yourself wet,” he said as he removed his hand and put two fingers to her lips. She opened, sucking him into her mouth and tasting herself on someone else’s fingers for the first time.
He replaced them between her legs and leaned in to kiss her while rubbing her slippery clit from behind. When she convulsed and moaned, he took his hand away.
“Why are you stopping?” she demanded through the ringing in her ears.
“There’s someone at the door. Would you mind?”
“What?” she asked.
“Answer the door.”
She got up from her aching knees and wrists. Her dress fell around her legs. The heat in her chest and face pulsed with every punch of her heart.
It was room service. A young man wheeled a food cart into the living room, glancing at Lola from the corner of his eye. He positioned the cart and waited.
“One minute,” she said.
She went to the bedroom. Beau was standing in the same spot, one sleeve rolled up and his hand splayed. “Yes?” he asked.
“It’s room service. He brought food.”
“And?”
“And…he needs his tip.”
“So give it to him.”
“You took my purse.” She crossed her arms. “I have no money.”
“Ah.” He smiled and pulled his wallet from his pants. “Have him bring it in here.”
“Bring it in here,” she called without uncrossing her arms or looking away from Beau.
Beau blew out a laugh, shaking his head. “I suppose I could’ve done that.”
When the cart was where Beau wanted it, the attendant took his tip, ducked his head and left.
Beau picked up a bowl. Before he could ask, she went to him. “Strawberries,” she said. “Not very original.”
“I’m not very original.”
She picked one out of the bowl. He caught her wrist on the way to her mouth. She raised her eyes to him.
“Aren’t you going to share?” he asked.
She lifted it to him. His teeth bit down just before her fingertips. He had a sexy mouth made for eating strawberries—and other things. She also took a bite and dropped the stem in the bowl. They had two more this way—him holding her, feeding him, feeding her.
He let go of her arm to pour them each some champagne.
“We’re around the halfway point,” Lola said, her mouth fizzing as she took a sip. “You’re running out of time.”
“We’ll get to that.” He took the champagne glass from her and set it down. “Hold your hands behind you.”
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She laced her fingers at the small of her back, jutting her breasts forward. Beau scooped whipped cream from the bowl with two fingers. He touched them to her closed lips. “How’s it taste?”
She tested it with her tongue. “Light. Sweet.”
“Have more,” he suggested throatily.
She closed her mouth around his fingers and sucked him clean. “It’s good,” she said. There was grit in both their voices. “You should try it.”
“I think I will.” He smeared some whipped cream on the skin above her neckline. He took his time cleaning it off with his tongue, no matter how fast her breasts rose and fell.
He slipped one strap off her shoulder. “Keep your hands there,” he said when she moved. He released the dress to her waist, trapping her arms with the straps. He took both breasts in his hands through her corset. She gasped up at the ceiling when he squeezed them.
“You like it a little rough,” he said.
“I don’t know.”
“You’ll know after tonight.”
She swallowed, still looking up. “You said you wouldn’t hurt me.”
“I’ll fuck you within an inch of your life, but it won’t hurt. It will calm you. Your only job is to do what I say. And, of course, enjoy yourself.”
He still had her breasts in a firm grip. It wasn’t enough without his skin on hers, and she arched into his hands. “What if I don’t like it rough?”
He let go. “Tell me now. I can do it in a way that you think we’re making love.”
Her face fell. “I don’t want to make love.”
“How does Johnny do it?”
For a second, she thought she’d misheard him. “I’m not talking to you about—”
“Don’t protect him,” Beau said. “He didn’t protect you.”
Her heart panged sharply. With her body in Beau’s control and her mind out of focus, she was in no shape to dig in to that statement. “He’s never been anything but Johnny with me,” she said. “It’s nice.”
“Then I don’t want to be nice.” He pinched her nipple unexpectedly, and she inhaled sharply. He massaged it. “But I won’t be mean, either.”
“Thank you,” she said.
He trussed one breast up and bent his head. “You are welcome, ma chatte.” He sucked her nipple into his mouth, soaking the fabric around it.
“What does that mean?” she asked breathlessly.
He tugged her nipple between his teeth, and the pinch traveled down her body, ending between her legs. She released her hands when he yanked the dress over her hips. It puddled at her feet.
“It means,” he said, and touched her boldly through her lace underwear, “this is mine.”
“Only for a few more hours.” As the inevitable loomed, her arousal was finally overtaking her determination not to give in. “Tick tock.”
He raised an eyebrow at her. “Brave girl. Touch yourself with me.” She reached into her underwear. He closed his warm hand around hers, guiding it along her.
He put his other hand to the front of his pants, massaging himself. “Tomorrow,” he said, “you’ll be home, and you’ll think of this. How I feel against you. How we feel together.”
She raised her chin. “Maybe.”
His eyebrows rose even higher. “Maybe?”
“So far you haven’t given me much to think about. Frankly, I’m not sure you have the guts.”
“Excuse me?”
“You talk and talk, but here I am. You’ve barely touched me.”
One corner of his mouth lifted. It was somehow both menacing and suggestive, and it dried her throat. He grabbed her shoulders in a flash, spun her to face the bed and pulled her back to his front. “Feel that, pussycat?” he asked, thrusting his erection into her lower back. He pushed her and she caught herself on the mattress. “Bend over,” he said. “Put your arms out to your sides.”
With her cheek against the bed, she stretched out and took two fistfuls of comforter. Her shoes propped her ass in the air at an uncomfortable angle, so she moved to take them off.
“Leave them,” he said. “Lines you right up for my cock.”
Her fists tightened. She wanted to turn around and watch him undress. Was his suit the source of his power? In her imagination, it wasn’t—he was just as commanding with nothing between them except his hard-on.
He stripped her underwear down to her ankles. “You have no idea how hot you are in your black stockings.” His zipper hissed. “Tell me you want it, Lola.”
“I can’t.”
“Why not?”
“It’s one thing to do it. It’s another to want it.”
“You’d walk away right now if I let you?”
She squeezed her eyes closed. She couldn’t picture Johnny no matter how hard she tried, through the haze, through her heartbeat pounding in her brain. Beau’s skin was warm against the backs of her thighs. He nudged himself between her legs.
“Answer me,” he said. “Your secret stays here.”
She was unraveling on the inside. Her nerves were surfacing—exposed and sensitive. Her mouth and her pussy were already slick. “I want it,” she whispered.
“What do you want?”
“You. I want to feel you inside me.”
He slid his crown up and down her slit. “Stay very still.” He worked his way in, slow with every inch. It made him feel impossibly big. The comforter sucked into her open mouth when she gasped. She bit down on it. He placed his hands on the bed around her and his mouth at her ear. “You’re so fucking beautiful in this position,” he said. His chest pinned her down. “No escape, feeling every single movement between us.” His voice vibrated against her back. He was still sinking himself in with extraordinary patience. He kissed her cheek and the corner of her mouth. “I want to hear you.”
She moaned when she said, “Yes, Beau.”
“Louder.” He thrust in to the base, and she cried out. “Like that,” he muttered into her hair, littering kisses there. “Just like that, Lola.” He said her name with such affection that she momentarily forgot how he was overcoming her. He undid the hooks of her corset, one at a time down her spine. He opened it, smoothing his wide, rough hands over her skin.
“I want it, Beau,” she said. “Don’t make me wait anymore.”
He cleared the hair from her back and buried his face into the crook of her neck. He moved in and out of her slowly. “This is for you,” he said.
Everything in her was building, rioting, begging for it. His rhythm never broke, and each stroke of his cock inside her was deliberate. It had such certain purpose—break her piece by piece.
His breath stuttered against her while whispering how soft, hot, pliant she was. Each word from his mouth was sharper than the last until finally he said, “Now it’s for me.”
He pounded into her, pulling her head back by her hair until her roots screamed. His lips stubbornly attached to hers from the side as he took her mouth. His other arm wrapped around her shoulders and he became even more merciless until—
“Don’t stop,” she almost sobbed when he pulled out.
“Turn over.”
She flipped onto her back. He towered over her, a force of strength and power. There was no vulnerability in his nakedness. Her shoes were tossed aside. He rounded the bed to the other side as she watched with her head tilted back. He slid her across the mattress by her armpits until her head hung over the edge.
“Is your mouth as hot as your pussy?” he asked, cupping his hands under her head.
She opened immediately for him. He fed her firmly but gently, his forearms flexing as he maintained control, then tightening as he lost it and thrust all the way in. She could only leave her mouth open for his use and hang onto the bedspread as she writhed with the need to come. He pulled out and pushed her breasts together, squeezing his cock between them and fucking her that way.
“Is there any part of you that isn’t perfect?” He slipped against her skin easily, wet from her saliva. “You fit righ
t into my hands.” He pressed her into the bed as he went harder. “If I’m not careful, I’ll come all over you. Would you like that?”
“Yes, Beau,” she said.
“Christ, you’re sweet.” He released her. “Get up. Tell me what you want.”
She climbed off the bed and stood in nothing but her stockings. Her clit radiated heat, burning her up from the inside out. “I just want to come,” she said shakily.
“There are lots of ways to get there, though,” he said, stroking himself as he looked at her. “If you want me to decide, I will.”
She nodded hard. “I’m yours.”
“Hmm.” He circled around her, stopping at her back. He wedged his fingers against her asshole. “I could finish you this way. Have you ever come with a dick in your ass?”
“No,” she rasped.
If ever there were a moment she would agree to it, it would be that one, but he let go and said, “I’m far too impatient to break you in right now.”
“I want to see your face when you come,” she said.
He wrapped his arms around her from behind and kissed her neck. “Then ride me,” he said into her ear.
She turned in his arms and pushed his chest. He sat back on the bed. She put her knees on both sides of his hips and held him with one hand as she sank down. “How’s that?” she asked coyly.
“You’re too far,” he groaned.
“I’m as close as I can get.”
“No, you aren’t.”
She bent forward and put her lips to his, creating a curtain around them with her hair. He angled up to kiss her. She circled her hips over him. Their mouths became hungrier, and he sat up to bury both his hands in her hair.
“Not a day’s gone by these past two weeks that I didn’t imagine your legs around me,” he said.
She lifted herself up to free her legs and wrap them around his back. With her arms circling his neck, she was as close as she could get.
“Dance for me,” he said.
“I already did. Now I’m fucking you.”
He released her head to clutch her hips and slow her rhythm. “Like this,” he muttered. “Dance for me, with me, around me. But do it slow. Savor what you devour.”
He slid his hands to the center of her back and pushed her breast into his mouth. He moved from one nipple to the other, sucking on her as she danced herself into a fiery orgasm that consumed everything in its path.
Night Fever Page 14
