by Zara Cox
I left the suite wondering how I was going to fill my time for sixty whole minutes without going clean out of my mind.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Neve
HE KNOCKED AT seven fifty-five.
Firm. Bridled impatience. Too self-assured. Just like the man.
No. Not totally true. I’d seen another layer of Damian today at lunch and that’d thrown me for a loop ever since I’d walked away from the table. Granted, I’d been more than irritated too.
But that brief glimpse into his life, relayed with a whole host of new, bleak demons in his eyes, had planted something inside me I couldn’t shake off. It came uncomfortably close to compassion. Because that meant I risked seeing him in a different light. One that might lead to a further softening, even understanding the man.
Even if he hadn’t shut me down, I didn’t want to deal with another facet of a man I found far too fascinating. Besides, I should be used to getting shut down. My mother had done that my whole life, perpetually sabotaging the link I’d promised to keep alive, one that still felt vital to me, even after all this time. Even after common sense dictated I should write it off as a failed venture and move on.
The knock came again, more insistent.
I took a breath, reminded myself that this was about teaching Damian a lesson in the most basic way possible.
Sex. That was all.
Nevertheless, my stomach flipped in excitement, mockingly contradicting my level-headedness. I pulled the full-length robe tighter around my body and secured it with the long velvet belt.
One last glance in the mirror, and I answered the door.
He stood square, tall and spectacular in the doorway, his brooding hazel gaze latching onto mine. It stayed for a tense minute before drifting over my shoulder into the room to probe the corners of the suite.
‘Looking for something?’ I knew what he was doing but enjoyed toying with him.
‘Just making sure you didn’t settle for an alternative while we were apart.’
As if I would’ve wished for anything but exploring the torrid promise in his eyes after that wickedly thrilling reminder last night of what he could do with his mouth and fingers.
I wanted him desperately. But where was the fun in letting him know that?
‘The night is young and I’ve learned that it’s wise to keep my options open.’
The fire in his eyes morphed into something dangerous. A warning not to test his limits.
‘I’m not great at sharing, Neve. Once I step through this door, you’ll have to agree to let go of some of those options.’
Why did I get the feeling we were talking about more than just my sex toys?
At my lack of response, his lips flattened and he inhaled long and hard, his gaze moving slowly, feverishly in a head-to-toe scrutiny. ‘Invite me in,’ he requested thickly.
‘On one condition.’
One eyebrow rose.
‘You come in, you abide by my rules.’
After a charged silence, he nodded. ‘Fine.’
I stepped back and gestured him in. An hour ago, the suite had looked incredible. Now, with strategically lit lamps highlighting the best features of the suite, it looked magnificent.
Damian strolled inside, taking in every inch of the room before he paused in front of a green velvet chaise longue that invited the decadent relaxation I had in mind.
Desire sizzled in my blood as I watched the suite through his eyes. Imagined him spreading me on top of the silk-covered bedspread, sweat glistening on his glorious skin as he rammed deep inside me while the moon rose high in the sky.
The room was having an effect on him too, judging by the rapid rise and fall of his chest as he faced me again.
We stared at each other across the space for a full minute before I reached for the remote control. It wasn’t exactly authentic but this was my fantasy, and frankly the presence of a harpist would throw a dampener on what I had in mind for Damian tonight.
Strains of Maria Callas’s haunting tones eased through the room as Damian prowled towards me.
‘I’d like a glass of champagne, please.’
He paused, that now familiar hard-edged look flitting over his face before he altered his course to where the silver bucket stood next to the chaise longue. Expertly, he worked the foil, twisted the cork until it gave a sophisticated pop.
He poured one glass, set the bottle back into the bucket and approached me.
I took it from him. ‘Aren’t you having one yourself?’
‘No.’
Curiosity ate at me and this time it wouldn’t stay down. ‘You keep refusing my drinks. A more fragile person would have a complex by now. Care to elaborate?’
His jaw clenched once. ‘No. I prefer to get you off in some other way than satisfying personal curiosity.’
‘Even if that’s my specific fantasy right now?’
‘Your fantasy is to dissect my life?’ The question was sharp, his face drawn into lines of displeasure.
‘You could’ve answered differently if you didn’t want me to probe.’
‘You asked a question. I gave you a truthful answer. Let’s move on to your next fantasy. Preferably one that involves discovering what’s beneath that robe.’
I smiled despite the curious ache digging inside me. ‘It’s a secret I intend to keep a little while longer.’
A terse smile lifted the corner of his mouth. ‘As long as it’s my hands doing the revealing, I’ll be patient. Just about.’
Renewed heat in his eyes dissipated the little blip in our discourse. The crescendo of the music rose. I swayed towards him, swivelling my hips in a sensual dance as I savoured the champagne. When nothing but stark arousal remained in his eyes, I presented my back to him and continued to dance to the haunting tune.
When I moved, he followed. By silent command he knew not to touch me. I liked that.
As the music grew to a close, I headed for the chaise, hyperaware he tracked my every move.
One hand clutching the train of my robe and the other my champagne, I reclined against the headrest and tucked my legs to one side, careful not to reveal too much skin.
Even still, Damian made a rough sound as his eyes devoured the little skin I exposed.
Discarding the champagne, I reached for the platter of canapés. ‘You won’t drink with me. Will you at least eat something or am I wasting my breath there too?’ I plucked a grape, popped it between my lips and held it there for teasing seconds before biting into it. The juices exploded on my tongue. I held in my moan, sure it was the fierce arousal burning through me responsible for my heightened senses.
I resented Damian a little for inciting the unquenchable flames so it was a little gratifying when he stumbled forward, his movements uncharacteristically jerky as his gaze switched from my legs to my mouth to the platter and back again.
‘I see your fantasies include copious amounts of torture,’ he stated roughly.
I feigned wide-eyed innocence. ‘I’m just offering sustenance. How is that torture?’
‘You know exactly what you’re doing.’
I shrugged. ‘Are you not enjoying yourself?’
His gaze rushed over me once more. ‘The entertainment is...stimulating.’
I laughed and watched his eyes darken.
‘I like the way you laugh.’
His compliment took me by surprise. ‘Do you?’
He nodded. ‘The problem is so far I’ve been denied it.’
‘Ah.’ I smiled. ‘You don’t like things not going your way, huh?’
His mouth firmed. ‘It’s a curiously novel experience. Which I don’t want to ruin the mood with.’
‘Then try these French tarts. They’re to die for.’
I picked one and held it against his lips. He caught it with his teeth, chewed
and swallowed without taking his eyes off me.
I was a thirty-one-year-old woman in control of a multimillion-dollar business, and yet having Damian Mortimer eat from the palm of my hand was a heady experience that made me as giddy as a schoolgirl.
In the background, Maria Callas wailed in guttural French. ‘I love Maria Callas. Don’t you?’ I asked, toying with my belt.
Damian sauntered to the bottom edge of the chaise and lowered himself onto the seat. ‘She’ll do. Personally I prefer something a little older.’
His hands curled around my ankles and lifted my feet into his lap.
My breath caught when my instep connected with the hard ridge in his trousers. ‘How much older?’
Warm fingers trailed up my silk-covered calves. ‘Puccini holds my attention. Vivaldi equally so.’
‘Ah, you’re the stuffy opera-loving type.’
His smile was a touch warmer but he didn’t look up from where his thumbs gently dug into my calves. ‘Something that lifts your soul can’t be stuffy. I’m also equally moved by a Bowie song.’
His magic fingers reached the backs of my knees and lingered. I couldn’t help my gasp as heat lanced my body.
When his gaze stopped pointedly at where I held the robe closed at my thighs my fingers tightened. I fought the urge to open myself up to him. Instead I wanted to dig deeper beneath his surface even though he’d clearly stated that he’d prefer me not to.
‘What else moves you?’ I asked, ignoring the breathlessness in my voice.
‘You. You move me, Neve, even when I don’t want to be.’
The terse, unfettered confession strangled my breath.
I cautioned myself against being taken in by it. We were living a fantasy. Closed off in a bubble of searing desire that had no substance outside these walls. It would be foolish to get carried away by anything that happened here.
Anything that didn’t feed my goal to have Damian at my mercy.
‘Show me,’ I commanded. ‘Show me how much I move you.’
His nostrils flared as I tugged on my belt. The hands cupping my knees tightened and his fingers dug in, adding another searing layer of lust to my already rampant arousal.
His gaze fixed at the opening to my robe, probing as his hand trailed back down to ease off one heel. Firm hands caressed my foot, then raised it to plant a soft kiss on my instep. He trailed his lips over my ankle bone, up the inside of my leg to my knee before repeating the intoxicating course with my other leg.
Damian shifted, hitched one knee onto the seat and arranged my legs on either side of his body. Then he prowled forward until his upper body was draped over me. Catching the sides of the robe, he slowly eased them apart, swallowed thickly as his gaze hungrily raked over me.
My lingerie was authentic French lace and expensive satin, bought as a birthday present to myself. The moss-green material formed a corset that cinched in my waist and blatantly emphasised my curves with the tops of my breasts almost spilling free of it.
‘Jesus,’ he rasped hoarsely.
‘Do you like what you see, Damian?’
‘Bloody hell, yes,’ he replied in a strained voice, whispering his hands over the satin in a light dance over the tops of my breasts before rising to caress my neck.
After a moment, his fingers dipped beneath the robe, slid it from my shoulders and down my arms before lifting me free to toss it away.
He sat back on his heels.
No longer restricted, I draped my arms over the chaise, and moved one foot towards his lap, shamelessly rubbing his rock-hard erection.
His eyes squeezed shut, a pained grimace lancing over his features before he speared me with a sizzling stare. ‘Tell me what you would’ve done if I hadn’t come.’
The unexpected question threw me, as did the possessive throb in his voice. I hadn’t quite taken Damian to be the possessive type.
‘Why?’
‘Because I intend to make it better than you could ever have managed on your own.’
‘That’s a bold boast.’
‘Tell me,’ he insisted.
‘I was going to listen to music, enjoy the champagne and canapés. I may or may not have had a reading of E. E. Cummings in mind. Then I was going to relish this chaise for a while before moving on to other things.’
‘What other things?’ he demanded gruffly.
I bit the corner of my lip, hesitant to reveal my private fantasy. I didn’t plan on telling him that most of them had revolved around him so I made it up on the fly. ‘I had every intention of using a few of my toys to make myself come. But now you’re here...you get to participate. But first...’
Eyes blazing with carnal heat hooked on mine. ‘Hmm?’
‘I want you to kiss me, Damian.’
He didn’t need a second invitation.
Hot, demanding lips fused with mine, his tongue breaching my mouth to slick erotically against mine. There was an edgy hunger to his kiss as he gorged on me. I started to reach for him but paused. There was something decadent and arousing about delaying the gratification of putting my hands on him.
But that didn’t stop me from digging my heels in the seat, raising myself up and shamelessly rubbing my body against his. One arm banded my waist, effortlessly holding me against his rock-hard body as we simulated everything we intended to do to each other.
Heat exploded in my pelvis as my hips ground against his. He groaned against my mouth. ‘God, you taste so incredible.’
Sharp teeth nipped the corner of my mouth then licked it until I was moaning. He drew away and stared down at me for a terse little stretch before swooping down to plant hard, urgent kisses along my throat to the tops of my breasts.
He levered up again, his eyes devouring me as his fingers moved determinedly to the corset fastening. With a hungry growl, he hooked his fingers into the cleavage and scooped out my breasts.
‘I’m not going to take this off. You look way too sexy in it, so I’m going to fuck you while you’re wearing it,’ he said, his eyes latching onto my tightly furled nipples.
The need to touch him grew unbearable. I started to reach for him but he stopped me. ‘Stay there for another minute.’
‘Why?’
He flashed me a surprisingly pleading look. ‘I can barely think straight right now, darling. I want this to last a little longer before things get a little too...crazy. I still have fucking blue balls from last night.’
I mock-pouted and shamelessly arched my back. ‘Aww, poor you.’
‘Are you enjoying your torture, Neve?’
I smiled a wickedly feminine smile. ‘You’re not allowed to ask me that.’
One eyebrow lifted. ‘Another rule?’
‘Yes.’
His head dipped to my cleavage and my smile disappeared. Eyes fixed on me, Damian drew the flat of his tongue over one nipple in a slow, decadent lick that lit a fuse in my pelvis.
Before I could catch my breath, his fingers moved to my untended breast and caught the tight peak between his thumb and forefinger.
And the real magic began.
He teased and licked and tortured until my heart threatened to beat itself into exhaustion. My fingers were digging into the delicate fabric of the chaise and I didn’t even care. With my body exposed so blatantly to him, letting him feast on me fed my pleasure in a way I’d never imagined. Perhaps it was the room and the fantasy.
No. It was all of that plus this man who was delivering the kind of pleasure I’d never known with any other. He bit down on one nipple, causing the tiniest explosion between my thighs.
‘Oh, God.’
Hazel eyes blazed with ferocious intent as he blatantly absorbed my pleasure, his tongue flicking in rapid succession over my heated flesh. ‘Good?’
My head bobbed eagerly. ‘Yes. More.’
A very satisfied
, very male smile tugged at his lips and he delivered pleasure for another minute before withdrawing.
Sitting back on his heels, he curled his fingers into my French knickers and dragged them down my thighs. His gaze latched onto the trimmed hair between my legs, then darted up to my face as he tossed the panties over his shoulder. ‘Are you glad I came, Neve?’
I opened my mouth to deliver a flippant answer but only one unguarded word emerged. ‘Yes,’ I confessed raggedly.
His answering smile was filled with poignant pleasure, then his expression grew serious. ‘Before this goes any further, I have a condition of my own.’
Again my challenging response fell apart before I could utter it. ‘Okay.’
‘This isn’t a one-way thing. I expect you to play a role in my set-up when the time comes.’
My heart skipped several foolish beats despite my self-admonition for common sense.
‘Agreed?’ he insisted.
The anticipation of reliving this again, of sex with Damian in the near future, filled me with a kind of dangerous pleasure I didn’t want to admit. ‘Agreed,’ I replied before I could stop myself.
It would be another opportunity to teach him a lesson, I told myself.
Satisfaction blazed in his gaze before it dropped to my wet, throbbing pussy. Immediately the feverish hunger returned. ‘I’ve craved another taste of you since last night. It’s been driving me fucking insane,’ he muttered thickly, almost to himself.
Need seared every cell in my body. ‘Then what are you waiting for?’
He gripped my thighs, pushed them roughly apart and dropped his head to my heated core. A cry ripped from my throat as his firm mouth latched onto my clit.
No longer capable of keeping my hands away, I speared my fingers in his hair, my nails grazing his scalp as I held him in place.
