Seduced by the Heir

by Pamela Yaye

  “Do you want some company?”

  “Do you want a knuckle sandwich?”

  He popped his shirt collar. “Quit playing hard to get. You know you want me.”

  Paris cracked up, laughing so hard that tears began to slide down her cheeks.

  * * *

  Rafael found Paris standing in the lobby, clutching her sides and laughing hysterically. He didn’t like the way Luigi was ogling her, found his sneer disrespectful and struggled to control his temper. Paris looked smokin’ hot in her silver gown and high heels but that didn’t give Luigi—a three-time loser with a string of ex-wives—the right to harass her.

  “What’s up?” Rafael asked, unable to hide his disdain. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything.”

  “You are. I’m talking to my girl, so kick rocks, Rafael.”

  Paris pursed her moist, red lips. Her expression was one of pure shock, and her hands were balled into fists, like a boxer ready to fight. “Your girl? Luigi, please. You’ve got to be kidding, because we both know I’m way too much woman for you.”

  A grin curved Rafael’s lips. I couldn’t have said it better myself.

  The elevator chimed, and several women with big hair, fake eyelashes and short dresses sashayed out. The trio gave him the once-over, then oohed like a game show studio audience. But Rafael pretended they weren’t there. He kept his eyes on Paris, admiring her elegant, glamorous look. On the surface he appeared cool, like the smart, accomplished businessman he was, but inside he was a ball of nerves. And he had a hard-on the size of a two-by-four threatening to explode out of his pants.

  “Good night, fellas.” Paris strode into the elevator and waved. “Happy New Year!”

  As the doors started to close, Rafael slid inside the metal box, then pressed the button for the twentieth floor. “Are you okay?” he asked, gesturing to her leg. “It looks like you’re favoring your left foot.”

  Paris wore a sheepish smile. “I am. I love my Louboutins, but they’re killing me!”

  “Then take them off.”

  “Good idea.” She kicked off her shoes, sighed in relief and scooped them up off the floor. “Are you going to the nightclub with the group?”

  “Yeah, unfortunately. I’m just going upstairs to change.”

  “Julietta finally wore you down, huh?” Paris took her key card out of her purse and shot him a coy smile. “Let me guess. She made you an offer you just couldn’t refuse.”

  “No, Angela and Jariah told me if I didn’t come they’d create a profile for me online, and nothing scares me more than that!”

  The elevator stopped on the sixth floor and the doors slid open. Rafael didn’t know what came over him, but he scooped Paris up in his arms and held her close to his chest.

  “Rafael, what are you doing? Put me down!”

  He took a good, hard look at her, inhaling her sweet, floral scent. Her hair was swept up in a chic bun, her eyes shimmered with bronze glitter and diamond hoops dangled from her ears. Her beauty knocked the wind out of him, and it took every ounce of his self-control not to devour her lips and ravish her body. “I can’t stand to see you limp.”

  “I’m fine, really. I can walk.”

  “Then humor me,” he said with a shrug. “I get a kick out of sweeping beautiful women off their feet, and you’re a vision of loveliness tonight.”

  “I’m heavier than I look. I don’t want you to hurt yourself.”

  “Don’t worry, I got you.” Standing in the hallway, holding Paris in his arms, Rafael realized he wasn’t much better than Stefano’s uncle. He’d crossed the line, fell victim to his desires, but when it came to his first love his body had a mind of its own. Her smile, her walk and the poise and grace she embodied drew him to her. Rafael suspected that would never change.

  “I can’t believe you’re carrying me to my suite,” Paris said, shaking her head in disbelief. “This reminds me of the day I twisted my ankle playing coed volleyball. You carried me all the way to the health clinic and never once complained.”

  “That’s what real men do. They take care of the women they love.”

  Her breathing sped up and her eyes brightened.

  Rafael could feel the electricity crackling between them, but kept his head and his body in check. He thought back on the fun they’d had tonight, laughing and joking around like they used to but he didn’t want to push his luck or get smacked upside the head for trying to kiss her.

  “Make a left and head straight down the hall,” she said.

  As Rafael carried her along the corridor, a fragrant scent filled the air, one that made his mouth water and his stomach grumble. Though it couldn’t compare to the sweetness of the woman he was holding in his arms.

  “This is my suite,” she called out. “Thanks for the lift.”

  Carefully, he set her down and stepped aside. “It was my pleasure.”

  Paris unlocked the door, then cast a glance over her shoulder. Amusement shone in her eyes and her lips held a coy smirk. “Do you want to come inside for a drink?”

  “I better not.”

  Her smile fell away. “Why not? You used to love my dirty martinis.”

  “You’ve had a lot to drink tonight, and I don’t want to take advantage of you.”

  “Who’s to say I won’t be the one taking advantage of you?”

  His erection strained against his tuxedo pants, threatened to break free of his zipper. All his life he’d been criticized by his friends and brothers for being boring, for playing it safe, but tonight Rafael wanted to break every rule in the book. He saw the twinkle in her eyes, heard the thick huskiness of her voice and realized his first love had the same thought in mind. He’d never wanted anyone more, but refrained from quickly pulling her into his arms and crushing his mouth against hers. There’s nothing worse than a desperate man, so play it cool and don’t rush her.

  “Join me for a nightcap.” Meeting his gaze, Paris boldly stepped forward and draped her arms around his neck. “I can’t think of a better way to ring in the New Year. Can you?”

  * * *

  Paris knew the kiss was coming and had been craving it since the moment she’d first spotted Rafael three days earlier. But she was still blown away by the intensity and ferocity of it. Her body hummed and throbbed, vibrated and quivered at his touch. Kissing him was like coming home, as natural as breathing. His mouth was sweet, flavored with champagne and intoxicating. One kiss and she was hooked, hungry and desperate for more.

  “You taste even better than I remember,” he said, in a guttural tone.

  Lips locked, their bodies pressed flat against each other, they stumbled inside the suite and collapsed against the door. His lips were made for kissing, for licking and sucking, and Paris couldn’t get enough of his mouth. His hands ran through her hair, then caressed her neck and shoulders. Salsa dancing, her new vicarious pleasure, helped her stay fit, relieved stress and bolstered her confidence, but nothing made Paris feel sexier than being in Rafael’s arms.

  Inhaling his scent, she relished the feel of his touch and the pleasure of his kiss. His lips felt oh so good, and tasted even better.

  The kiss took on a life of its own, growing more intense with each flick of his tongue. Her desire for Rafael was insatiable, more powerful than any drug. They pawed and fondled each other for what felt like hours. It was the hottest foreplay she’d ever had, and they were still dressed.

  Anxious to stroke and taste his physique, she shrugged his jacket down his shoulders and let it fall to the floor. She whipped off his shirt, undid his tie and took off his pants in the blink of an eye. Baby-fine hair sprinkled his upper chest, his stomach was as flat as a surfboard and his skin was smooth to the touch. He was every woman’s dream, and Paris couldn’t wait to feel him inside her.

  Overcome with longing, she spray
ed kisses along his collarbone and over his pecs and biceps. Tasting and touching him intensified her need. Paris felt lost, out of it, as if she were in another world. It was a struggle to stay present, in the moment, when all she could think about was throwing him to the floor, climbing onto his lap and riding him until he said her name.

  Cradling his head in her hands, she stroked his ears, his neck and his shoulders. Pressing her hips against his, she slowly massaged his erection with her pelvis. The champagne she’d had at the wedding reception brought out her boldness. Paris reached between Rafael’s legs and seized his length. He was well-endowed, long and thick, and as she worked her fingers up and down his shaft her nipples hardened under her dress.

  Rafael’s cell phone rang, and Paris froze. She feared their intimate party for two was about to end abruptly and imagined herself tossing his clothes out the balcony window to prevent him from leaving.

  “Aren’t you going to answer your phone?”

  “Ignore it,” he said, flashing a grin. “It’s just Nicco.”

  Paris felt a twinge of guilt and wondered if Rafael was having second thoughts about being with her. Her doubts grew and her desire fizzled. “You’re supposed to be going clubbing with your brothers tonight. Won’t they be disappointed if you blow them off?”

  “Don’t know. Don’t care.”

  “Of course you do,” she argued. “They’re your family.”

  “True, but you’re the sexiest woman in Venice and I’d rather be here with you than in a smoky nightclub with my brothers and their fiancées.”

  “I’m flattered.”

  Rafael nipped at her earlobe and cupped her ass in his hands. “I aim to please.”

  His low raspy voice aroused her, causing her breath to catch on a moan.

  “This dress is in my way,” he grumbled. “It needs to go. Now.”

  Paris felt him fumbling for the zipper of her gown and gasped when she heard the fabric ripping. “Rafael, stop!” she shrieked, bracing her hands against his muscled chest. “This is a Badgley Mischka gown, and it cost five grand!”

  “And?” Moonlight cast a faint glow inside the suite and illuminated the amused expression on his lean, chiseled face. “I can afford to buy you the entire collection, and anything else your heart desires. You know that.”

  “When did you get so smug?”

  He pinned her hands high above her head. “When you lured me inside your suite.”

  “Is that what happened?”

  “Isn’t it?”

  Paris unzipped her dress, watched it fall to the floor in a glitzy heap and kicked it aside. Standing in front of Rafael in just her jewelry made her feel confident, sexier than ever. Her alcohol-induced buzz was bringing out her inner sex kitten, a side she never knew she had, but wanted to discover.

  “You’re not wearing any panties.”

  His breath tickled her ears and the lips between her legs.

  “Are you disappointed?”

  Rafael gave a slow nod. “I wanted to rip them off.”

  “Next time.”

  Crushing his lips to her mouth, he flicked and licked her tongue with his own. His hands rode up her thighs, stroked her hips and stomach. Moans and groans fell from her lips, becoming a slow, erotic chant. Her heart was beating fast, out of control, and she felt exhilarated, as if she was floating in the evening sky.

  The room spun at a dizzying speed. Something primal came over her, something so strong and powerful she could hardly breathe. Her body shivered and trembled.

  Her temperature climbed, shot through the roof like a rocket. Paris feared she was going to black out, wondered if it was possible for a woman to die of pleasure. Rafael was the world’s greatest kisser, always had been. He did things with his lips and tongue that should be illegal. Tremors stabbed her flesh, zigzagged down her spine and legs. I can’t take any more.... This is all too much and we haven’t even had sex yet!

  Feeling hot way down below, as if her clit was on fire, she felt her limbs grow heavy and her body go weak. Paris loved taking charge in the bedroom and wasn’t afraid to speak her mind, but Rafael didn’t need any pointers. It was as if they were still in college, as if fifteen years hadn’t passed since they’d last seen each other.

  His touch was electrifying, the best thing that had ever happened to her body. Her urges grew stronger, more frenzied and intense. Paris needed him now, ached to feel him inside her, and what she did next shocked them both. She took his index finger, licked it like a lollipop and then guided it between her thighs. Hooking a leg around his waist, she thrust her hips forward, invited him to feel her wetness.

  To give him better access to her clit, Paris arched her spine and spread herself wide open. He moved his fingers in and out, back and forth, from side to delicious side. Tingles danced up her thighs and warmed her throbbing, aching clit. Gripping his forearm to hold him in place, she rode his fingers hard and fast, with all the lust and desire pulsing through her veins.

  Electric shocks pricked her flesh, stabbed and tickled her clit. Pleasure built, rose to unimaginable heights. Throwing her head back in ecstasy, Paris pressed her eyes shut and rode out the wave that claimed her body. Her climax was explosive, the most powerful orgasm she’d ever had, and several seconds passed before her feet touched the ground.

  Hot and desperate for more, she seized his erection and stroked it over the lips between her thighs. Rafael groaned as if tormented, then pulled away. “We can’t do this....”

  Paris blinked, slowly surfaced from her haze. It was hard to focus, impossible to listen to what he was saying. Rafael was naked, standing before her in all his masculine glory with a long, thick erection. His length was unbelievable, jaw-dropping, and all Paris could think about was riding all eight inches.

  “Angel eyes, we have to stop. I don’t have any protection on me.”

  Paris smiled, and her heart danced inside her chest. Hearing Rafael use her old pet name made her want him even more. “I’m on the pill, and I’ve never had an STD.”

  “Me neither, but—”

  “You know me, Rafael. You can trust me.”

  He paused and then shook his head. “There’s a convenience store a few blocks from here. I’ll be back before you know it.”

  Paris locked her arms around his neck. For good measure, she cradled his head in her hands and made sweet, sensuous love to his mouth. “You’re not going anywhere,” she whispered, scattering soft kisses along his jawline. “You’re staying here with me, and that’s that.”

  A grin lit his eyes. “When did you get so feisty?”

  “When you ripped off my designer gown.”

  Rafael chuckled.

  She sucked his earlobe into her mouth, showing him what he’d be missing if he ditched her. “Don’t go. I need you right here, right now....”

  A wild, crazed expression darkened his handsome face.

  He gripped her hips, drove powerfully inside her, thrust in and out at a furious, frantic speed. His length consumed and possessed her. Rafael gave her everything he had, everything she needed. His stroke pushed her to the edge of delirium. Every grind shook her to the core. Their lovemaking was everything she was looking for—erotic, sensuous and passionate—and Paris didn’t want it to ever end.

  Rafael tickled her ear with his tongue, licked and nibbled as if it was a candy cane, and she all but lost her mind. Savage grunts and groans exploded from her mouth, and she bucked against him like an out-of-control mare.

  To stop from crying out and waking up everyone on the sixth floor, Paris clamped her lips together and buried her face in his chest. The tingling sensation in her feet coursed up her legs and shot straight to her core. Spasms caused her muscles to tense, her G-spot to tingle and throb. Rafael had the best sexual technique known to man, and his moves were erotic. But what impressed he
r most was his selflessness. All he cared about was pleasing her, and she adored him for it. He was in a league of his own, and no one would ever take his place in her heart.

  Rafael mashed her breasts together, and when he flicked his tongue over each erect nipple, an explosion erupted between Paris’s legs. She couldn’t think, lost all sense of time and place. Her body felt weightless, and she was quivering uncontrollably. Her breath came in short, quick gasps and her heartbeat drummed in her ears. Rafael clutched her hips and thrust so deep inside her she shuddered and climaxed. One orgasm followed another, and soon she lost count of how many times she’d come.

  Seconds passed before the room stopped spinning. The fragrance of their lovemaking was intoxicating, a sweet aroma that filled every inch of her posh, sixth-floor suite. Paris opened her eyes, took one look at Rafael and decided the businessman with the brilliant mind and quiet demeanor was the sexiest man on the face of the earth. He’d brought her to orgasm in a way no one had before, and although they’d just finished, Paris was ready for rounds two, three and four. Damn, she thought, blowing out a deep breath.

  “That was incredible,” Rafael exclaimed, lowering her to the ground.

  “I bet you say that to all your lovers.”

  He shook his head and cupped her chin in his palm. His gaze was deadly, filled with such passion and heat, it consumed her. “Not everyone. Just you.”

  He spoke softly to her, in a quiet, subdued voice, but Paris heard his desire, his hunger. “You’re a woman who isn’t afraid to take control of her pleasure. I like that.”

  “And I like the way you make me feel. Your stroke is out of this world.”

  Amusement twinkled in his eyes. “Out of this world, huh?”

  “You’ve always been a great lover, but that was toe-curling, head-spinning, mind-blowing good, and I can’t wait for round two.”

  “Why wait when there’s plenty more where that came from?”