Shattered
Page 7
“Eat your dessert. You could stand to put on a little weight, you know. I like it – a lot – that you keep things nice and toned, but five to ten more pounds would look really good on you.”
Once again, Angela opened her mouth to protest, but Nick merely used that opportunity to shove a huge forkful of Meyer lemon tart in her mouth. He was grinning at her wickedly, her mouth now too full to offer up any sort of protest.
“I’ll have to remember that little trick when it looks like you’re getting ready to sass me,” he chuckled. “Just stick some food in your mouth.”
She glared at him while frantically chewing her food, then washed it down with a few sips of coffee. “Maybe not such a big bite next time, okay?” she croaked. “I almost choked.”
“Sorry.” He offered up a falsely apologetic smile before turning his attention to his own plate.
Angela toyed with the rest of her dessert until Nick placed a hand over hers, stilling her motions.
“Don’t pick at your food,” he told her firmly. “Eat it. Please.”
It was that last, rather unexpected word that did the trick, and she somewhat reluctantly managed to eat at least half the tart. She tried to take another bite but shuddered instead, pushing the plate away.
“I can’t,” she confessed. “I don’t usually – what I ate tonight is way more than I normally do at one sitting.”
“Okay,” he assured her. “After all, not only don’t I want you drunk tonight, I sure as hell don’t want you getting sick, either.”
He beckoned their server over, handing over his credit card – an AMEX black card she noted, not surprised that he’d be one of the select group who’d been issued one. Nick didn’t even glance at the total when the bill was presented, merely writing in a tip and signing his name with a bold flourish.
He stood then, and pulled her to her feet. “Let’s go. The night isn’t getting any younger, and I hate wasting even a minute of my day. Especially,” he murmured as he pulled her close against his side, “when I could be putting those minutes to a much more pleasurable use.”
She knew he felt the shiver that trembled through her body because he smiled down at her knowingly, looking very much like the devil he’d likened himself to back at the meeting. She knew that this was it – the point of no return at it was – and that if she was having even the slightest doubt about going with him she’d have to speak up now. Otherwise, he would take everything she had to give him – body, mind, and soul – and she knew that nothing would ever be the same for her again.
Nick seemed to sense her uncertainty as they waited for the valet to bring his car around, and gave the nape of her neck a sensuous little massage.
“Are you sure about this, Angel?” he asked, tipping her head back as his dark eyes bored into hers. “All of a sudden you seem a little nervous.”
She bit her bottom lip, belatedly aware that once again she hadn’t taken a moment to duck into the ladies room to freshen up her lipstick and hair. “Maybe a little,” she admitted. “It’s – I’m not all that experienced, and I guess I’m sort of afraid that -”
“What? That I’ll be disappointed because you haven’t fucked a dozen other guys before me?” Nick shook his head. “Or that in spite of some porn you watched back in high school you don’t know a lot of different naughty little tricks?”
She shrugged. “Maybe. I’m not exactly sure what I’m afraid of. The others – four, if we’re keeping exact count – they were all boys. College guys. I’ve never – you’re so much more – everything than they’ll ever hope to be. And I guess what I’m really afraid of is that I can’t handle you.”
“Ah, so that’s it.” He nodded in understanding. “Come here, Angel.”
She went into his outstretched arms willingly, leaning her head gratefully against his shoulder as he held her gently. She breathed in the scintillating smell that was a blend of his discreet cologne, the crispness of his white dress shirt, and the overpoweringly masculine scent that clung to his skin, the scent that was simply Nick.
Nick stroked her hair with long, soothing motions. “Look, if I’d thought for one minute that you’d screwed your way through college, I doubt I’d have been attracted to you. I like a woman who’s confident and cool but not to the point where she’s overly aggressive or feels she has to impress me with how hot she is in the sack. If you haven’t already figured it out, I like things done my way, according to my rules, and that definitely includes sex. So relax, Angel, and just follow my lead, hmm? Ah, here’s my car.”
His car was a fire engine red Ferrari, an ultra-luxe vehicle that she knew had likely cost several hundred thousand dollars. As he held the door open and she slid inside, she couldn’t help but think of her own tiny, well-used Ford Fiesta – the one she’d bought off her brother-in-law Joe back in high school. She doubted Nick’s six foot six bulk would even be able to squeeze inside the sub-compact.
“What’s your address?”
Nick had slid behind the wheel and was powering up the car’s sophisticated, built-in GPS system. A bit hesitantly, she recited her address – a quiet little residential street on the outskirts of Noe Valley. The tiny studio apartment had been all she could afford on her trainee’s salary, and she’d been lucky that her other brother-in-law –Marco – was closely related to the owner of the building and had been able to snag her a modest discount on the rent. It had surprised Angela that her sister Deanna would have even bothered to help her out to that degree, but then she’d realized how relieved her family probably was that she was finally living on her own way up in San Francisco, and officially out of their hair.
“You don’t have a roommate, do you?”
Nick’s sudden question startled her, as lost in thought as she’d been, but she shook her head in reply. “No, it’s just me. The place is sort of a shoebox, I’m afraid. You might have to duck your head to get through the doorway.”
He frowned. “You do have a bed at least? And I don’t mean a frigging sofa bed or a futon.”
Angela grinned at the hint of irritation she heard in his voice. “Yes. It’s a real, honest to goodness bed. It’s even king sized. Takes up almost half the floor space but it’s worth it.”
“Good.” The gaze he sent her way was positively smoldering, and she was left speechless by what he said next. “Because if the answer had been no, we’d be heading to the closest hotel right about now. The way I intend to fuck you tonight Angel – well, let’s just say that bed of yours had better be up for the task.”
Chapter Four
She’d been prudent to warn him about ducking his head upon entering her tiny studio apartment, for he definitely wouldn’t have cleared the doorway otherwise. Angela intentionally didn’t look at him once he shut the door and began to inspect the small space, likely with the same eagle-eyed attention to detail that he’d looked her over with earlier this evening. She didn’t particularly want to see the expression on his face when he took in just how small the room was, noticed how sparsely furnished it was, and that except for the bed – which she’d insisted on buying new – the other few pieces of furniture were well-used hand-me-downs culled from a variety of family members.
But when her curiosity couldn’t be contained any longer, she glanced over at Nick as he continued his slow, careful inspection of her place. He stopped and gave a very thorough look at the one quality piece of artwork she owned – the seascape somewhat small in size but beautifully framed and exquisitely painted.
“Is this really a Benoit?” he asked incredulously. “I’m not sure I could even begin to estimate how much it’s worth if it’s the real thing.”
“It is the real thing,” she assured him. “And I’ve got a pretty good idea of what it would sell for. But that was given to me as a gift – by the artist herself – and I’d never consider selling it.”
Nick blinked in surprise. “How do you know an artist like Natalie Benoit?”
Angela smiled softly at the mention of the woman who�
��d treated her like a daughter for so many years. “Natalie is the mother of my two best friends. We all grew up together in Carmel, and I’ve known Lauren and Julia since we were in the fourth grade. I’ve probably spent more time at their house than I have at my own.”
He regarded her quizzically. “That’s the second time this evening you’ve made some reference to not spending much time at home. Were things that bad for you there?”
She shook her head in amazement at his brazen question. “Wow, you really do shoot from the hip, don’t you? And subtlety is definitely not one of your better traits in case you weren’t aware.”
Nick grinned. “Oh, I’m very well aware. I told you back at the restaurant that I’m ballsy. Trust me, Angel, there’s no topic that I won’t dare to ask you about. And you’ll always give me the answers I want, too.”
Angela frowned. “Is that part of this so-called submission you mentioned?”
“Yes.” He answered without the slightest hesitation. “Honesty always.”
She lifted her chin stubbornly. “Does that go both ways? If I ask you a question, will you always answer it honestly?”
Nick’s gaze narrowed dangerously. “Angel, it’s way too soon for us to start talking about – ah, let’s call them conditions for now. When and if I think you’re ready, we’ll have ourselves a nice long chat. Until then, show me that gold medal of yours.”
She thought about pressing the issue further, asking him what these so-called “conditions” might be, but decided not to push her luck. Instead, she merely indicated the rather dilapidated bookcase that she’d pressed into service as her trophy case.
Nick glanced over the various trophies, plaques, medals, ribbons, and framed certificates that she’d earned over the years, in half a dozen different sports, but it was the Olympic medal that he honed in on.
“May I?”
Angela nodded in assent as he picked up the protective plastic case that held the medal. “You can open it if you like.”
He did, running his long fingers over the raised inscription, shaking his head in awe. “I’ve never seen one of these close up, you know. And I’d still rather have one of these than my Super Bowl ring.”
“You don’t wear your ring?”
He shook his head. “I’m not a jewelry kind of guy, except for a watch. I wear the ring occasionally, if I’m attending a Hall of Fame induction or some other NFL event. Otherwise, it just stays with the rest of my collection. Speaking of which.”
He closed the medal case and placed it back on the shelf. “You should take better care of your awards, Angel. Especially this medal. You don’t live in the safest of neighborhoods, after all. And the lock on your door is pathetic. Don’t your parents have any space in their house for you to keep all this stuff?”
“They do. That’s not the issue.” She hesitated, not really wanting to discuss her messed-up relationship with her family at the moment.
“Then what is?”
Angela huffed, trying not to display the agitation he was causing to rise up with his persistence. “It’s a really long, boring story, Nick, and I’d rather not get into all that shit right now. Let’s just say that my mother didn’t want a lot of mementoes of me laying around the house once I left for college.”
“Hmm.” He was leaning negligently against a wall, his arms crossed over his midsection as he studied her carefully. “You’re right. It already sounds way too complicated to get into now. But one day you’ll tell me all of it, Angel, even though I sense it’s the last thing you want to talk about. In the meanwhile, come here.”
He sat down on the edge of the bed and held a hand out to her. She walked over to him slowly, alarmed to notice that her hand was shaking as she placed it in his. But Nick only tugged her closer, until she was standing between his spread legs, his hard, muscular thighs imprisoning her. His hands held her in place by the hips, making sure she couldn’t back away even if she’d wanted to.
It was suddenly very, very hard for her to breathe – small wonder considering how hard her heart was pounding and how rapidly her pulse was racing. But if Nick was aware of her agitation he gave no clue about it. Or, at the very least, wasn’t allowing it to rush him. And he seemed to be in no hurry whatsoever to get to the main event of this evening – namely getting naked and then giving her brand new mattress one hell of a workout.
His voice was deep and deliberate as he wrapped his arms around her hips, his hands splayed over her buttocks. “When I went to that pointless meeting today – and, by the way, I don’t go to many of those things no matter who the special guest might be – all I could think about was how fast I could make a discreet exit. I don’t especially enjoy listening to people spout all that corporate bullshit, nor do I need pep talks from higher-ups who don’t know their ass from third base. But, as it turned out, I wound up being very thankful that I attended. Do you know why that is, Angel?”
She tried desperately to lighten the mood by cracking a weak joke. “Well, it certainly wasn’t for the great food and top shelf booze.”
He smirked. “Very observant, Angel. But you and I both know the real reason.”
She gasped as he unexpectedly shoved a hand up beneath her skirt to squeeze one of her ass cheeks, the skin bared by the skimpy cut of her thong.
“Ahh.” Her eyes fluttered shut as he continued to caress her bare skin. She was already wet and ready for him, quivering with need at each bold, confident stroke of his hand.
“Look at me.”
Her eyes flew open as she gazed down at him obediently. Nick was unsmiling, his dark gaze silently warning her not to look away again.
“That’s better. It was your eyes, you know, that did it for me. Made me realize that for once I didn’t give a damn if you worked at the same firm, that I was willing to take the risk so that I could have all of this for myself – the big eyes, that sexy mouth, all of this gorgeous hair –” he paused to wrap a long, shiny strand around his hand, giving it a sharp tug that made her wince a little. “And especially,” he added in a husky voice, “this very, very fuckable body.”
Before she could respond or protest or even move, Nick had begun to strip her with swift, precise movements. In less than a minute she was left standing in just her lingerie and shoes – all of it black –and trying valiantly to stop herself from quaking all over.
He stroked her hip soothingly. “Relax. I’m not going to rush this so you don’t need to tremble like a frightened bunny. Hold still now, that’s a good girl, and let me look at you.”
She wanted desperately to close her eyes, or cross her arms over her breasts, but she knew instinctively that Nick wouldn’t allow her to do either of those things. His dark gaze inspected her with precise scrutiny, and she could almost feel his eyes boring a path along her skin.
Without warning he deftly unhooked her black lace bra, tossing it carelessly away as his massive hands began to shape her bare breasts. She whimpered as he pinched both of her nipples, plucking the pale mocha peaks until they were hard and throbbing.
“Your breasts are perfect, Angel,” he told her in a husky voice, his hands pushing the twin mounds up until they were closer to his eye level and his tongue could easily flick out to circle each nipple. “Not too big but beautifully shaped and very firm. Firm enough that you don’t really need a bra, provided you’re wearing the right sort of clothing and at the right sort of occasion.” He sucked one already tender peak into his mouth, the sensation of half-pain, half-pleasure rippling all the way down her body, her pelvis starting to tilt forward in reaction.
Nick lifted his head from her breasts, watching her face carefully for a reaction as he skimmed a palm down her torso to her quivering belly.
“Nice toned abs, Angel. I can see you work out a lot, take good care of this sexy body. But you’re a little too thin, just like I guessed. Ten more pounds, I think. That would still keep you nice and trim but with a few more curves in the right places. We’ll work on that.”
Angela
was so turned on, so consumed with excitement and heat, that she could neither argue nor protest at his arrogant declaration. Her hands dropped to his shoulders to steady herself as he toyed with the flimsy band of her tiny black lace thong.
“As little as this thing covers, you might as well not have bothered,” he drawled, as he began to work the miniscule garment down past her hips. “In general, I’m not a big fan of the thong, don’t find it especially sexy. More of a panty man, actually. Or nothing at all. Are you making note of all this, Angel?”
“Wh-what?” she stammered, her voice no more than a wisp. His words were hypnotizing her, drawing her deeper and deeper into his web, and she wasn’t sure she could remember one damned thing he’d said at this moment.
Nick smiled knowingly. “Never mind. This probably isn’t a good time to be asking you to pay attention. Time enough for all that.”
He returned his attention to her body, in particular the narrow strip of black hair that was all that remained of her otherwise bare pubic area.
“Now this,” he rasped, his index finger tracing along the neatly shaved little patch, “I like. Your little landing strip here is a lot sexier than a full Brazilian would be. We don’t need to change this at all.”
Angela couldn’t suppress the moan that rose up from her throat as Nick’s clever – and no doubt very experienced – fingers began to slowly trail through the outer folds of her labia. She was wet, God, so wet, and had never come close to feeling this sort of overwhelming physical need, a need that was all she could think about. But still he continued to tease her, to merely flutter his fingers around her clit or glance them across her slit before withdrawing.
“Please.”
She barely recognized her own voice, that raw, hoarse sound. Her hips kept thrusting forward, seeking his touch, her body already so highly stimulated that she felt like screaming if she didn’t find some sort of satisfaction very, very soon.
Nick sounded amused. “Please what, Angel? You’re an impatient one, aren’t you? We’ll have to work on that, too, teach you some control. But in the meanwhile, let’s see what we can do for you.”