Bartered

by Pamela Ann

  I look upset? Ha! Upset was rather mild to describe the storm that had been whirling about me since that woman had touched him.

  “Piss off,” was all I said as I tried to focus on the elegant surroundings. I knew it was pretty, but it somehow didn’t register because I couldn’t seem to take in anything other than his close proximity.

  “What did I do now?” he asked casually before he strode past me and went straight to the bar where he poured himself a hefty amount of cognac. He then let his drink sit on the marble countertop while he took off his bowtie, jacket, and before I even had the chance to register anything else he was down to unbuttoning his dress shirt until it hung loose and open, showcasing his superb pectoral and abdominal muscled perfection.

  My mouth ran dry before I urged myself to look away, blushing profusely.

  “Isobel?”

  Fuck. Get it together, I chided myself before I faced him again. He was taking a careful sip of his drink while his eyes hadn’t wavered from me.

  “I don’t have any clothes.” To be quite frank, this was the last thing that had been on my list, but for some reason, it was the one that my mouth blurted out. Feeling like an idiot? Oh, no, I definitely was one tonight.

  “There’s a robe in the master bathroom,” he informed me while I simply kept staring at him. “I want to touch you whenever I want. I don’t want any lacey or silky scrap of clothing to hinder me from your body.”

  We’ll see about that, shall we?

  I left for the bathroom, fuming at the thought of him throwing it out there, as if tonight I hadn’t witnessed him failing to bar women from thinking that he delighted himself in accommodating their brazen advances.

  Stripping the blasted dress, I yanked the robe off the hanger before I covered my body with only a mere thong hiding behind the soft, plush robe. I didn’t care that he’d requested me naked underneath it. This was my way of showing him that I was rebelling from his orders. He could take it however he saw fit.

  The thought of washing my make-up off came to a halt when he didn’t care to knock on the door before letting himself into the massive bathroom.

  “I was hoping you could join me in the hot tub? It might do you the world.”

  “I’m fine,” I gritted out, wishing he’d leave me alone to simmer in peace.

  The bastard didn’t seem pleased. “You’re going to join me, Isobel.”

  “I said no, Hugo.”

  His jaws locked as he gave me a brooding look. He seemed to try to control his temper before addressing me again. “Are you defying my orders?”

  Fuck. He couldn’t be serious.

  Bracing my chest, I was about to respond to him that yes, I was defying him when his chilling voice cut through the tension.

  “The door is open if you wish to walk out. I’m not holding you hostage.”

  Mindfuck. He was playing me to get what he wanted. Bastard!

  “Very well. Have a great night,” I called his bluff before turning around and heading towards the door

  “Très bien. And please, don’t forget to inform your father that he still owes me money. My lawyers will contact him tomorrow for the balance owed, with your services deducted of course.”

  He flagged me down with a threat, knowing very well that my father didn’t have money to pay him even half of what he owed.

  “Tonight, you played with what? A quarter million? Maybe half? My father’s debt is laughable compared to how much you spend on entertainment. Couldn’t you at least pardon him just this once?”

  “And why would I do that, Isobel? Your father means nothing to me. Pardons and favors are out of the question.”

  He was selfish, and he wasn’t holding back on showing me who was in charge of the situation. I didn’t have a choice. It was either stay or walk out and deal with my father’s wrath for doing so. And the latter was too horrific to even dare think about.

  “You win, Hugo,” I conceded as I exited the door and went in search of the hot tub.

  Chapter 21

  Isobel

  “Forget the hot tub, Isobel,” he said just as I was about to disrobe. “Sleep the night here. I’m heading out.”

  “Where are you going?” I asked without turning back.

  “Back on the yacht.”

  I knew it. He wanted to shag one of those women.

  It didn’t take long until their faces swam before me, making me feel hot and cold all over. What did I care if he planned to fuck one or a dozen of them? It wasn’t my problem, nor was it my business.

  “Fine, then. I’m still going in with or without you.” I shrugged, untying my robe as I did so before letting it fall to pool around my feet. And since I was already on display while he watched me from behind, I audaciously took my knickers off, baring my smooth bottom.

  He hadn’t made a sound, yet I knew he was still there. The heat of his gaze was powerful as I slowly went into the massive tub.

  For the first time, I saw the picturesque view before me. The sea, the stars, and the gorgeous place itself brought magic to my eyes. It was the perfect backdrop for seduction.

  “Why aren’t you leaving yet?” The question wasn’t said loudly, nor was I facing him, but he caught it for some reason.

  He didn’t bother responding. Instead, I heard him move towards me. Not before long, I heard the sound of a zipper being pulled open and the sudden, swift sound of the garment falling to the floor. With bated breath, I stilled as I heard his movement before he finally came in view through my peripheral vision, before he brazenly showed me his naked body, full frontal and the whole… nine inches? His dick wasn’t fully aroused yet, and the mere sight of it and the thought of what it would look like to its full girth and length gave me fluttering butterflies all throughout my stomach.

  The man was made to drive me mental, challenging me physically and mentally, blocking whatever kind of argument I’d had with him and with myself.

  My heated gaze drifted away from his form as I waited for him to settle in the hot, bubbling mass of water.

  Sitting on opposing sides, he splayed his arms as far as they could reach, lounging and looking like he was Don Juan.

  Well, he sort of was.

  “Tonight began with our eyes meeting, devouring each other with lust and admiration, but look at you now. You can’t even look at me.”

  Giving him a death stare, I aimed to bite his head off—figuratively. “Has it entered your semi-brilliant mind that maybe there’s nothing worth looking at? Maybe, I was just pretending?”

  I didn’t get to bat my eyelashes before he was immediately right in front of me. He was so swift in his movements that I hadn’t had the chance to do much when he claimed my lips without our bodies touching. My mouth took him in without hesitation. Our tongues fought out the hungered passion that was escalating out of control between us. I wanted to mold against him and cling to his body. This fevered response that he and I couldn’t seem to control was beyond maddening. As much as I hated it, I also couldn’t resist it.

  “There’s no pretending,” he rasped out, breathing raggedly against my lips. “This is real… what you do to me… and what I make you feel. It’s real, Isobel.”

  Our passions were so raw even I couldn’t deny it out loud, most especially right after we’d just kissed with pure, utter abandonment.

  “Now that’s settled, will you tell me what’s going on in this pretty head of yours, ma belle?” His fingers brushed away the hair from my forehead as he stared deeply, intensely into my eyes.

  “I’ll give you a hint,” I sighed, simply because I couldn’t deny him when he was this close to me. “I heard that men who love fast cars drive it harder when they use their stick shift.”

  He frowned before he started barking out a deep belly laugh, all the while continuously giving me an incredulous look. “Oh, come now. Admit it, it was quite hilarious.”

  “Sure.” I was laughing on the inside…

  “What’s wrong now, ma belle?” He dropped a
light peck on the tip of my nose, melting me with his tenderness.

  “What do you think?” I asked timidly, slightly humiliated for finally admitting what was bothering me. “You’ve embarrassed me in front of your friends by flirting with those insipid women who use sex to get a man’s attention.”

  “It happens all the time.” He seemed unperturbed. “I’m used to it.”

  There it was: this was his sort of lifestyle. The polar opposite of mine. “Whatever.”

  Hugo wasn’t ready to let go of the subject yet. “What is really wrong with you?” he queried on.

  “You!” I admitted without thought, barely catching myself because my emotions were rolling off me. “You’re what’s wrong with me. You’re a notorious flirt, and you don’t give a damn that I was there, watching it all happen!”

  He suddenly looked serious, eyes seeking my own. “I apologize. I hadn’t realized that you were jealous and hurt by my actions.”

  “I am not jealous!” I hissed out, immediately denying it. It wasn’t jealousy. It was being disrespected more like…

  “You’re acting like you are.”

  “Well, I’m not,” I stated succinctly. “Why should I be? I don’t love you—you’re not Damen.”

  His eyes were like black diamonds, glittering, beautiful, bottomless depths, but his temper was apparent in them. “I’m very well aware that I’m not Damen!” he gritted out, almost yelling.

  I raised my hands, surrendering this bloody argument that kept going in circles. “This is stupid. Let’s forget that this conversation ever happened. I’m just having a rough day, is all.”

  Black diamonds flickered back and forth, seeking for my soul. “All right,” he finally uttered, sounding tired.

  All right? Nothing will ever be okay again, and it petrified me.

  “I don’t get you. One second, you’re a total wanker, and then, in the blink of an eye, you’re a kind gentleman. Which one are you, because I’m beyond confused?”

  “I’m the same man you first met. I’m the same man who fancies a quick fuck whenever I feel like it. When my cock springs to life, I put it in action. You very well know that I’m ruthless, that I have the tendency to be despicable, and yet you somehow melt towards me when I kiss you. I’m a wicked temptation that you want to try and taste, even though you’re telling yourself that I’m an obligation.” He was relentless. “Admit it, you like me, even just a little.” His breathtaking smile blinded me from my senses. “I promise I won’t tell anyone.”

  “Okay, maybe I do like you… a little,” I muttered with a blush.

  His dashing smile immediately vanished from his face before something of meaning replaced it. Then, before I had the chance to ask him what it was, he determinedly savored my lips, kissing them as though they were a delicious treat to taste, slowly, eagerly, melting my core and every ounce of my common sense.

  Consumed by the fire that had overtaken us, engulfing us in flames as our mouths devoured one another, little did I notice that he was pressing against my body, backing me against the wall of the tub while my legs had somehow parted to accommodate him. The majestic feeling of awe at having him this way was overruling everything I had told myself not to do. My hands caressed his chest before I cupped them behind his head as I pulled him closer to me. I wanted him so badly, and he felt divine. God help me.

  His hands squeezed my breasts before they explored between my thighs. Then I unexpectedly felt him pinch my clit; thus making me spasm in his arms. His digits kept exploring my pussy, but he never dared insert anything in me. I admired his control… until I felt him. His hard and hot, turgid length teasing my clit, gliding and thrusting back and forth.

  “Hell, Hugo!” I moaned from the explicit pleasure that seized my body from the sheer, intimate contact of him.

  “Does this feel like Damen to you?” he demanded before he bit the side of my neck, making me scream and moan like I had never done before.

  Fuck, this was truly different from what I’d experienced with Damen.

  “Definitely…” I stuttered, “not.”

  Damen’s lovemaking was different. This? Whatever this was between us, it was savage.

  It drew out our animalistic sides—the mating, the banter, the possessiveness. We circled around on our baser instincts and senses.

  It was as vulgar as it was exquisite.

  Vulgarly, undoubtedly, exceptionally exquisite.

  Chapter 22

  Hugo

  “Does this feel like Damen to you?” I barked it out arrogantly, knowing well enough that her delighted reaction to our delicious body friction was a resounding no, but I still went ahead and demanded the question because I wanted her to say it out loud. I needed her to say it, a confirmation uttered from her own lecherous lips.

  Her moans were driving me wickedly mad. This hunger to drive her over the edge, into a pleasurable abyss, made me bite her neck. The animalistic rawness of a bite on a woman’s delicate neck never failed to produce unparalleled pleasure, certainly making them much more pliable for our intentions.

  Just as expected, Isobel produced a scream the second my teeth sunk into her sensitized flesh. It was a sound that made men fall on their knees and indulge the goddess in whatever she desired. A scream that made my cock angry to the point of explosion because it wanted entry to her safe haven.

  “Definitely”—she panted incoherently—“not.” She sounded lost, suspended from reality while my body did its purpose in delivering her to a place that was the closest a person could be to nirvana. The urge was potent to keep her there, detached from her thoughts, only able to feel. Feel the euphoria I was granting her. Feel how amazing things could be between us if she decided to pursue this road of sensuality with me.

  “Hugo…”

  The mere sound of her voice calling out to me in such a carnal way made everything inside me constrict with excitement. My hands were on her breasts, but I made them trail over her back from her shoulder blades all the way down to the base of her spine before I palmed the curve of her buttocks, gripping them hard, letting her cunt slide harder against the back of my cock as it sat rigidly between us.

  As I gazed admiringly at her, Isobel was lost in the heady and magnified, beautiful sensation we were weaving together. Her reluctance of this magnetic attraction and her slight measure of giving in to me—even though she had been fighting tooth and nail about everything that was related to me—well, this felt mighty triumphant. Yet, even in this short-term triumph, the greater need of wanting it all superseded it all.

  This was appetizing, of course it was. I had never doubted my instincts when it came to women, but I wanted her utter and complete surrender without hesitation. I wanted her to want me the way I wanted her. The need had consumed me since she’d walked in to save her father from destitution.

  Generally, as a rule, patience where women were concerned wasn’t on my list at all. What man of wealth and power would waste time on such trivial situations when it could be invested in something beneficial? No decent businessman would even toy with the idea. Of course, there were exceptions—if the man in question had a wife and family, then the rules changed.

  I could take her like this, with my cock a mere breath away from her opening, and she wouldn’t even have a second to deny me because she’d be lost in the pleasure of what my cock would do to her. My dark thoughts prevailed, yet there was something much stronger inside me, insisting that I wait until she commanded me to fuck her because she couldn’t fathom another second without having me inside her.

  My ego was a double-edged sword. I couldn’t make myself thrust my hips into her tight hole. My decisive decision made me curse inwardly, knowing quite well that I would end up having a cold shower while I palmed my cock. When was the last time I’ve done that? I thought, mocking myself. I couldn’t even remember because I had always had women who’d done everything for me. The very thought itself was depressing. When had my life come to such a sad state?

  Sex was
the only thing I could indulge in… since having a family was out of the equation. It was the only thing that made me sane.

  “Ma belle, make me come with you…” I groaned out, needing her to hear the desperation in my voice.

  I didn’t need her pussy to finish off; she could use her hands, her swollen mouth, or her pussy lips, riding on top of me as she glided her juices against my hot length.

  “Hugo… I’m…”

  “Touch my cock, mon amant.” (My lover.) “Use your other hand to caress my balls…”

  Her hands followed direction, gentle yet eager to please. The feel of her hands pressing against my shaft while I thrust against her labia felt too glorious to describe. Her gentleness eventually became harsher as I upped my speed. The warmth of the water sluicing around our motions, the rapidness of our heartbeats as we synchronized together with one purpose, achieving the end, became a whirl of madness until we finally reached our peaks.

  Isobel cried out against my lips while I came against her luscious cunt.

  I was inhaling her scent behind her earlobe before I breathed out, “Mon Dieu, c'était magnifique.” (My God, that was magnificent.)

  She laughed huskily before kissing my cheek. “Yes, that sure was.”

  For the past week, I had shared her bed. It was a given that, each night I came to her, we would succumb to our passions. It also became a habit that every morning I’d wake her up with my mouth attached in between her legs.

  I was mad for her, and I couldn’t, no matter how much I kissed her lips and her body, get enough of it. But even if our passion was unimaginable, she hadn’t begged me to go all the way yet. Though I must admit my control was slipping away, I still managed to harness it each time our sexes touched.

  Isobel was slowly blooming before my eyes, giving me glimpses of the real woman within her cattiness and pleasant smiles. The woman behind the façade was this bright woman who had a great spirit and laughed madly until she snorted, which of course made her blush with embarrassment, but I found it truly cute and heart-warming. She was different; I had been aware of that from the very beginning. However, her uniqueness had particularly drawn me in to look beyond her appearance. Deep inside, she was as gullible as they come at twenty-three with the perception that life could be all about love and happiness. She rarely mentioned it, but when she did, I knew she was talking about Damen—the man she’d had to forcibly put aside until her obligations were finalized.