I kick off my shoes and pace up and down the room for a while, arguing with myself. I shouldn’t. I mustn’t. But I want to. I should be mature and responsible. But I don’t want to be. I want to be guided by my passions, and to live a little. I want him. I’m hungry for him. I yearn. I never knew what the word felt like before now, but I yearn to tug his shirt out from his trousers and slide my hands beneath it onto his warm skin. I yearn to feel his lips on mine, his tongue in my mouth, his hardness inside me. I lean against the wall, cup my mound with a hand, and press between my legs, and I receive a dark throb of longing. I want his fingers to slide down into me; I want him to go down on me.
Oh God.
I know I’m tipsy. Probably blind drunk. But I don’t care.
I know what I’ll do. I’ll go and get some ice from the machine at the end of the corridor. And I’ll leave it up to Fate. If this is supposed to happen, Ryan will come out for ice, too, and then we’ll both know it was meant to be.
My mind made up, I pick up a glass and my key card, go to the door, and open it a crack. The corridor’s empty. I slip out of the room and walk along the corridor, my bare feet silent on the plush carpet. As I pass Ryan’s door, I pause for a second, then continue down to the end, to the room with the ice machine. It’s also empty.
Disappointment threads through me—what if he doesn’t come out? Do I have the courage to knock on his door? He’s the one who told me we mustn’t sleep together again, though. What if I do knock, and he turns me down? How embarrassing would that be? I close my eyes, shake my head, then bend to put ice into the glass. Dammit. I should have stayed in my room and gone to bed. This was a big mistake.
The glass half full of ice, I straighten and turn. Then I stop. My heart misses a beat, then bangs on my ribs. Ryan’s standing in the doorway, leaning against the doorjamb. He looks disheveled and gorgeous; his tie is undone, hanging around his neck like he’s Dean Martin; his feet are also bare. His hair is ruffled, as if he’s been running his hands through it. He’s holding a glass, as if he, too, came for ice. Maybe that’s all he wants—ice for his drink. But he doesn’t look surprised to see me.
As I meet his gaze, my breath catches in my throat. His eyes are filled with desire. He wants me. It’s written all over his face.
We stare at each other for a long moment. Then we move at the same time. We meet in the middle of the room. Still holding my glass, I throw my arms around his neck, and he slides his around me. Our lips meet, crushing together.
Joy fills me, and I sigh as he kisses me, delving his tongue into my mouth. Oh my God, I’m so happy. I want him; I need him.
He groans and pushes me up against the wall, puts his glass on top of the ice machine, and slides his hands around onto my butt. Lifting me a little, he nestles his erection into my mound, and I moan and rock my hips. That feels soooo good… Mmm, how does he know exactly where to touch me, how to hold me? Why do we seem to fit together so perfectly?
Behind Ryan, someone clears their throat.
We spring apart automatically and stare at the person in the doorway. It’s my brother.
Leon’s still dressed in his shirt and trousers, although the shirt is undone to the waist, his tie has gone, and his belt’s hanging open. His hair is sticking up and standing on end. There’s a lipstick mark on his cheek. I suspect he’s just had sex. I really don’t want to think about that.
Walking past us, he goes up to the ice machine and fills the two glasses in his hand. Ryan’s gaze slides to mine, looking for guidance. I give a slight shrug. My heart’s banging away. I look back at Leon, who straightens and turns back to us.
“Um…” I manage. I don’t care what he thinks. It doesn’t matter if he yells at me; it’s not going to change the outcome of tonight. But a tingle of resentment runs through me at the fact that I’m nervous of his reaction.
He swirls the ice around in one glass and looks at Ryan. To my surprise, Ryan gives a short laugh, then hurriedly stifles it. Leon’s lips curve up, and his gaze comes back to me. He meets my eyes, but he doesn’t say anything. He backs out of the room and walks off down the corridor. His door opens, and then we hear the soft click as it closes.
“Fucking bastard,” I say, brimming with indignation. “He gave us his permission.”
“I thought you’d be pleased,” Ryan replies.
“I don’t need his permission.” I was nervous of Leon’s reaction, but I realize now that I would rather he’d gotten angry, and then I could have stood up to him and told him I didn’t care what he thought. “If I sleep with you tonight, it’s only because Leon’s letting me.”
Ryan laughs, slides a hand into my hair, and leans down to kiss me. “Bullshit. If we sleep together, it’s because I want it, and you want it. Fuck Leon.”
I let him kiss me, still rigid with indignation, then soften as he doesn’t stop, his tongue teasing mine. Oh, fuck it. He’s right. What does it matter what my brother thinks? All that matters is that I want this man, and he wants me. We’re single, consenting adults. Nothing else is important.
“Whoa.” This time it’s Stefan who stops in the doorway. “Shit, sorry.”
Ryan laughs, takes my hand, and leads me past Stefan and down the corridor.
“It’s like Piccadilly Circus,” I grumble as we stop outside Ryan’s room.
He grins, holds his key card to the door, and unlocks it. Then he opens the door and lets me past him, and I go inside.
His room is similar to mine in layout, although all the rooms are decorated with a different theme. Mine is decked out with the colors of the sea; Ryan’s has a Scottish theme, with tartan drapes and photos of the Highlands on the walls. But I barely have time to notice, because in seconds he’s kissing the living daylights out of me.
I forget Leon and Stefan, forget about tomorrow, forget about everything except having this man’s lips on mine. I put my glass down somewhere, I don’t know where, and then I sink my hands into his hair, and his hands are on my breasts and then my thigh as I hook a leg around him, and his fingers are digging into my skin, and I’m getting hot, my temperature rising to boiling point.
He tears himself away and backs up to the bed. He sits and lies back, keeping hold of my hand, then pulls me toward him. “Here,” he says, touching his lips as I climb astride him. “I want you here.”
Oh yeah… I don’t need to be told twice. I grin at him, lift my skirts, and carefully move up until my knees are either side of his head, helped by his skillful hands. He guides me down, and I feel his hot mouth on my panties, his tongue pressing against the fabric, probing, and I groan, aching deep inside. He brings up a hand to sweep the panties to one side, and then his mouth is on me, his tongue sliding deep inside me.
I groan out loud, deep and heartfelt, dropping my skirts so the layers of tulle fall around his head, and now I can’t see him, I can only feel his lips and his tongue moving through my folds, licking, sucking, and oh my God it’s an amazing sensation. I cup my breasts and rub my thumbs over my nipples, and even though they’re encased in the bodice of the corset, when I touch them it makes me moan, and I feel Ryan’s answering groan rumble through his chest.
I’m not going to last long like this. I’ve been keyed up, on and off, throughout the evening, every time I’ve spoken to him, danced with him, and my orgasm isn’t far away, waiting in the wings for its big moment. “Aaahhh… Ryan,” I whisper, as he brings up a hand to join in the fun and slides two fingers inside me. He curls them forward and presses inside me, and the ache intensifies. His tongue swirls over my clit, and then he sucks it, and oh holy fuck, that feels so…
I come, clenching hard, and he holds me tightly, waiting until the pulses ebb away before he finally releases me.
“Oh, Jesus.” I lift one knee and fall to the side, flopping onto my back on the bed. “Oh, wow.”
He sits up, stands, and goes over to the bedside table, where he picks up his wallet and extracts a condom. I lift my gaze to his and shiver at the heat in his eyes
. “I told you I was going to fuck you in that dress,” he states. “Move up the bed.”
I do as he says, my heart racing.
“Take off your panties,” he demands.
I slide my hands up my dress, flick open my garters, and then slide my panties and stockings down my legs. While I do that, he takes off his jacket and hangs it over a chair, and places his tie on top of it. But to my delight, he keeps on the shirt and trousers.
“I promised,” he says, smirking, as he sees me looking at them.
I don’t reply, feeling a tug of emotion as he climbs back on the bed. He’s so goddamn handsome… My heart’s doing a strange little flip as he moves up beside me.
He bends to kiss me, and I taste myself on his lips and sigh. Then he lifts up again. To my surprise, he picks up my left hand with his and pulls it across my body, forcing me to roll onto my side. “On your front,” he says, pushing up and leaving me to roll the rest of the way. I shift onto my tummy, hearing the sound of his zipper as he slides it down, then the crackle of the wrapper as he takes out the condom and puts it on. Oh my…
He pushes up my skirts, revealing my thighs and bottom, and he brushes his hands over my skin before he widens my legs and slips a hand down between them. I rest my forehead on my hands as he strokes down into my folds, and shiver when he finds my clit and circles the pad of his finger over it for a while. He bends to kiss my neck, and I close my eyes in bliss.
And then he’s moving between my legs, and he guides the tip of his erection down and I feel him press inside me.
“I’ve been thinking about doing this all day,” he says, his voice hoarse with desire.
I suck my bottom lip, and then hold my breath as he pushes forward and sheathes himself inside me.
Ohhh… wow… Oh God that feels so absolutely fantastic…
He thrusts a couple of times, coating himself my moisture, and then goes deeper, until he’s up to the hilt and our bodies are flush.
“Aaahhh, Clio,” he murmurs, lowering down on top of me.
Jeez, I’m so hot in the dress, with his weight on me, and my body’s burning. I widen my legs and clench my hands on the pillow, biting my bottom lip as he thrusts. Mmm… ohhh… yeah, that’s amazing… I love him taking me like this, as if I’m powerless to stop him, and he’s going to have me whatever… His voice in my ear whispers all kinds of hot, sexy things as he fucks me—he tells me I’m beautiful, that he’s been hard for me all day, that he hasn’t been able to stop thinking about me…
And I must be terribly drunk, because I mean, Christ, I’ve only been with him a couple of days, but I can’t help it; the words spill from me as he kisses my neck and moves inside me…
“I think I’m in love with you.”
I can’t stop them. They fall from my lips like apples from a tree, and I’m powerless to stop them.
He stops moving.
Shit. Oh shit… Why oh why can’t I control what comes out of my mouth?
Chapter Twenty-Four
Ryan
Did I hear right?
My brain’s having a little trouble thinking straight. I concede it could possibly be due to the innumerable glasses of champagne and then whisky I’ve consumed today.
“Sorry,” Clio says from beneath me, turning her face a little, although her eyes don’t meet mine. “That kind of slipped out. I’m drunk. Just ignore me.”
But how can I ignore a comment like that?
She suddenly seems so small beneath me, so young. I feel a swathe of tenderness for her, and a touch of regret that I took her to bed tonight. I knew this was a possibility, that’s why I told her we shouldn’t sleep together again. The last thing I wanted to do was break her heart.
Holding the condom, I carefully withdraw from her. She curses under her breath and rests her forehead on her hands. “I’m sorry,” she whispers. “I’ve spoiled everything.”
“Clio,” I tell her. “Come here.” I move off the bed and stand, and she rolls onto her back and sits up, stares at me, then follows me as I extend a hand. I pull her to her feet so she’s facing me. Her eyes look huge and full of disappointment and confusion.
“Do you want me to leave?” she whispers.
I start unbuttoning my shirt. “No, Clio. I don’t want you to go.”
Her gaze drops to watch my fingers pushing the buttons through the holes, a frown appearing between her brows. When I get to the bottom, I let it slip from my shoulders and toss it away. Then I push down my trousers and boxers and kick them away too. Now I’m naked, and I turn her away from me, find the hidden zip of her dress, lower it, then ease the dress off her shoulders. It falls to the floor in a billow of material, leaving her standing there in her pink corset.
She steps out of the dress, and I lift it and carefully place it over the chair before returning to her. I turn her back to face me and admire the corset before I gesture at the fastenings at the front. She starts unhooking it, and I help her, until the corset is undone, and together we remove the item and put it on the chair.
Her skin is marked where the boned corset has pressed into her flesh. I run a thumb down her side over the indentation, and she shivers. I cup her breasts and stroke over the tops where the lace has left a pattern on her skin, then cup them and press my thumbs against her nipples. I roll them, teasing the tips, and her lips part with a sigh, the nipples hardening under my touch.
I kiss her, taking my time, stroking my tongue into her mouth, enjoying her answering moans, and only when I can’t bear it anymore do I move back and gesture for her to get onto the bed again. She climbs on and lies back on the pillows, and I follow her, moving between her legs. The skin there is glistening, and I place two fingers over her clit and circle them, and her answering soft moans make me hard as a rock. I do that for a while, slipping my fingers inside her to gather more moisture, then stroking them through her folds and massaging her clit, until she’s slick and swollen, her eyes closed, her bottom lip caught between her teeth.
Only then do I guide the tip of my erection into her folds, press against her entrance, and slide inside her.
“Oh God,” she whispers, and I lower on top of her. She wraps her legs around me, and now we’re as close as a man and woman can be.
I look into her eyes, and she rests her hands on my chest.
“You’re not angry with me?” she murmurs.
I shake my head, moving slowly inside her.
“I honestly didn’t mean to say it,” she admits.
“It’s okay.” I kiss her.
“I’m not going to go all Fatal Attraction on you,” she promises. “I swear. Just pretend I didn’t say anything.”
I kiss up her jawline to her ear and run my tongue around the shell. “Don’t worry about it.”
She lifts her hands and sinks her fingers into my hair. “Mmm…”
I need to think clearly and sensibly about what she said, but I’m too tired, too hot, too sexed up, and my thoughts are a jumble. All I know is that even though her words shocked me, I don’t feel alarmed by them. I feel warm inside, as if I’ve drunk another glass of whisky and it’s threading through my veins. I’m not sure Samantha ever told me she was in love with me. My relationship with her kind of fell into place without any effort, almost like an arranged marriage. I didn’t realize it at the time, but it makes sense now. I’ve been with my share of women, and had a few relationships. But nobody has ever said they’re in love with me, until now.
I kiss back to Clio’s mouth, and her tongue meets mine as I give little thrusts between her lips. Maybe it was just the alcohol talking. She might be horrified in the morning. She probably didn’t mean it.
I mustn’t think about it. We’re here for sex and nothing more.
I plunge my tongue into her mouth and she gasps, her nails digging into my ribs. I lift my head and look at her, and her lips curve up in a smile. God, she’s beautiful. It’s foolish, I know, to muse on things when you have alcohol in your system, when your emotions are all over the
place after a wedding, and it’s on your mind that you’re single and might never meet someone else with whom you feel compatible.
But that’s not all it is. I like Clio. I like being with her. She’s not the first port in a storm, not at all. I’ve liked her for a long time, and it’s as if these feelings I have about her have been dormant, waiting for the right time to come forth, as if it’s been winter, and Clio’s brought the spring sun and rain.
Jesus Christ, I’m fucking drunk, I really mustn’t say any of that to her.
Instead, I pick up the pace and start thrusting in earnest, and Clio gasps and meets each push of my hips with a rock of hers. It’s hot in the room; I forgot to put on the aircon, and our skin is slick with sweat. I crush my lips to hers and kiss her hard; in return she scores her nails down my back, hard enough to hurt, and I groan and lift up.
“Do me from behind,” she says, “I was enjoying that until I fucked it up.”
Happy to comply, I withdraw and let her roll over, then slide inside her again, and she moans loudly as my hips meet her butt with a slap. Her face is flushed, her skin damp and glowing beneath me, and I give myself over to the moment, enjoying having her at my mercy. Oh yeah, she’s good, she knows how to fire me up; she spreads her thighs to give me better access, and when I smack her rump she cries out and says, “Oh fuck, yeah,” so I do it again, and she gives such a sexy moan I nearly come on the spot.
But I hold it in and fuck her hard, and it’s not long before she comes, burying her face in the pillow as she cries out, and I briefly wonder who’s next door and if they can hear us before I forget about it and let my climax sweep over me. It’s exquisite, and I push Clio down into the covers and thrust hard until I’m empty, at which point I collapse on top of her, so exhausted I can barely move.
“So… fucking… hot…” she whispers.
I give a short laugh, but I can’t move, and we stay there like that for a while, stuck together, close, so close, almost one person, her hair tickling my nose, all my senses filled with her taste, her smell, the feel of her skin.
My Wicked Billionaire (The Billionaire Kings Book 6) Page 17
