by Kitty French
It wasn’t true and they both knew it. They each had their own agenda for the evening, which the other wasn’t privy to, but there was no hiding the fact that the attraction smouldering between them was mutual, sexual, and lethally combustible.
Delicious as her dinner was, Genie found it difficult to swallow more than a few mouthfuls as their earlier kiss replayed on a loop in her mind. Flicking her eyes up from her plate to his face, she found him watching her again, his plate almost empty.
‘Dessert?’ he asked, laying his cutlery down.
She didn’t want dessert, but she was far from done with Abel Kingdom. So far she’d learned barely anything. Was he an investor? Was her uncle courting him in the hope that he might save the ailing theatre with a cash injection? A sleeping partner… the idea caught her imagination and she had to make herself refocus on the business sense of the phrase.
‘Coffee, maybe?’ she said.
‘Brandy?’ he countered. Brandy was a good idea. It might loosen his tongue. Genie nodded, and then silently checked herself as her mind went in all sorts of directions at the mere thought of his tongue. She wanted him to run it down her spine.
Chapter Five
In the bar a few minutes later, Abel sat down beside Genie on the low, plump couch she’d chosen. Few customers remained, mostly couples, with the odd small group dotted here and there, their low chatter underscored by the unobtrusive pianist accompanying a smoky-voiced singer. Genie’s professional eye lingered on the act, admiring the vintage ruby velvet dress worn by the vocalist.
‘So, tell me what being assistant manager of a London theatre involves,’ he said easily. He needed to know how much of an obstacle she was going to be, and getting her talking about her work seemed the best place to start. The knockout smile that lit her face at the mention of the theatre caught him unawares. Fuck. She loved the place even more than her goddamn uncle did.
‘Everything really,’ she laughed. ‘I do whatever needs doing. Booking acts. Planning the seasons. Marketing. Admin.’ She sipped her coffee, her eyes dancing with mischief. ‘Even cleaning, sometimes.’
Abel glanced down as her knee brushed his when she moved to place her coffee cup back down on the table. He had ordered both their choices of digestif. The balance of power was equal… for the moment.
He was aware of every inch of her, and of how many inches away she was. Too many.
‘It must get hard sometimes though? An old place like that, a young woman like you…’ he let his words tail off, the implication that she should be out enjoying the world hanging in the air between them.
‘I love it,’ she said, without hesitation. ‘It’s not just a job. It’s my home. It’s been in my family for generations.’
‘Your home? As in you actually live there?’
She nodded. ‘Upstairs. My uncle has one half of the top floor and I have the other.’
Shit. He knew Divine lived there, but not his niece too. Not only was he planning to buy the theatre she loved, now he was evicting her from her home too? This was getting worse. She glanced down as she accepted the brandy glass he held out, and the sweep of her exposed neck made his mouth ache to kiss it. Her hair was drawn back, a more grown up, sophisticated version of her hairstyle from earlier.
‘Do you ever wear it down?’ he asked, on instinct. ‘Your hair?’
‘Sometimes,’ she murmured, and he picked up his own glass to stop his fingers from reaching for the clip that constrained her curls.
He wanted to see it down. He wanted to see it fanned out over his pillow as he fucked her.
Abel wasn’t an unethical man; it bothered him that he wanted to fuck her senseless and then fuck her over. Business and pleasure, a bad mix as always. He sighed heavily. The honourable idea of letting her walk out of the hotel unscrewed pushed its way into his head, even though he fought it tooth and nail.
Genie sipped her brandy, completely thrown by his question about her hair. She’d fastened it back earlier knowing that he was less likely to place her as the burlesque dancer he’d lusted after if she kept it out of the way. Was it a wilful deception? Not exactly. She just wanted to help her uncle, and preserving her anonymity for long enough to find out what motivated Abel Kingdom was the way to do it.
‘Can I ask you something, Abel?’ she said, as he leaned back and placed his arm along the back of the sofa. Did his fingertips brush against the back of her neck? She couldn’t be sure, but her jumping pulse and racing heart said yes.
‘Shoot.’
Definite fingertips, stroking slow and light over her nape. Barely there, and yet it took her breath.
‘Why are you interested? In our theatre, I mean?’ She kept her tone as light as she could, given that the question meant so much to her.
‘Shouldn’t you be asking your uncle these questions?’ The pad of his thumb massaged the skin beneath Genie’s ear.
She tipped her head a little to the side, and he stroked the back of his fingers down her neck. Thinking was getting really, really difficult. ‘Probably. But I’m asking you,’ she said softly.
‘Don’t. Not tonight.’
‘I need to know,’ she said, thinking that she needed lots of things from Abel Kingdom at that very moment. This honey trap needed sweetening. She slid closer to him until her body brushed against his, drinking the last of her brandy and turning to him. He was close. So very close. And stubbornly silent.
‘Are you staying here tonight?’ she said, noticing the way his lips sighed apart as his dark eyes drank her in.
‘Yes.’
She laid her hand on his cheek, her thumb a whisper from his lips. ‘Want some company?’
Genie watched his Adam’s apple move as he swallowed, and the almost painful look that flitted across his face.
‘You should go home,’ he said eventually, his hand still curved around her neck, his eyes asking her to stay despite the words coming out of his mouth.
The one thing she hadn’t expected Abel Kingdom to do was blow hot and cold. She’d expected him to blow so hot that her skin blistered. She looked at him for a few long moments, and felt a fool when he took her hand from his face and placed his lips against the back of it for a scorching second.
‘I’ll walk you out,’ he murmured as he stood, leaving her no option but to take the hand he offered to help her to her feet. Business-like. But then not so business like, because when he walked across the bar he kept her fingers still laced in his. It had been a long time since anyone had held Genie’s hand, and the casual intimacy told her that he was fighting his urges without one hundred percent success.
Her heels clicked against the marble floor of the huge reception, and as they neared the lifts Genie stilled.
‘I’ll say goodnight,’ she said, turning to him.
He still held her hand. ‘Thank you for dinner, Abel.’
‘You’re welcome,’ he murmured, and leaned down to kiss her cheek.
She turned her head, forcing his mouth over hers, parting her lips a little to graze him with the tip of her tongue.
He moaned low and guttural into her mouth, and in one sudden, fluid move, her back was slammed against the lift buttons as the heat of his body pressed hard into hers.
‘Jesus, girl,’ he cursed, his palm flat against the marble beside her head as Genie’s hands smoothed down the contours of his back.
His lips opened her mouth, and the slide of his tongue over hers had her pushing her fingers into his hair to hold his head captive. Not that he was trying to escape. Quite the opposite. He had her pinned against the wall, the fire of his hard body searing hers through her dress. He kissed her as a parched man might drink water; like he couldn’t stop. As if his life depended on it.
The lift doors behind them slid open and he half dragged her inside the glittering, mirrored and thankfully empty chamber. As the doors closed, he pushed her against the back wall and lifted her clean off her feet, cradling her face in his hands as his crotch burned into her, hot and hard. His
eyes told her that he was as far down the line as she was.
‘I can’t take my fucking eyes off you,’ he breathed. ‘Or my hands.’
Genie didn’t want him to take his hands off her. She wanted him to use them to rip her dress from her body and screw her right there against the wall of the lift.
This wasn’t about his business with her uncle any more. It was about the fact that no man had ever touched her like this, made her feel like this, in her entire life. It was about the fact that this was so far beyond turned on. He made her burn for him, as if she were stifling and the only thing that would give her air was the orgasm he was about to give her.
‘Then don’t,’ she said, her fingers on the buttons of his shirt. She wanted him out of it. ‘Don’t take your hands off me. Put them on me.’
His dark eyes glittered, and the lift juddered to a halt as his palm slammed over the emergency stop button. ‘We’ve got three minutes before the override kicks back in,’ he told her, and Genie gasped as he rucked her skirt up and slid his hand up her thigh. She had his shirt open and dragged it free of his trousers. Rock star beautiful, his hand skimmed her panties.
She was lost in how good he was. Three minutes would have to be enough. ‘Put your hands all over me, Abel.’
His tongue slid between her lips as he kissed her, his fingers stroking over the silk between her legs.
‘Is this where you want me to touch you, Beauty?’ he whispered. Beauty. The endearment on his lips flipped her stomach almost as much as his touch between her legs did. ‘Here?’ He pushed the satin aside and ran the back of his fingers over her. His tongue traced her mouth, mirroring the sensation. So much, and still nowhere near enough.
Yes, there. Yes, more. She rocked into his fingers, moaning as they moved into her folds. Abel held her steady between his body and the wall as he opened her, explored her. ‘You feel fucking amazing,’ he muttered, his voice barely there, raw.
Genie clung to him, her mouth on the bunched muscles of his tanned shoulder where she’d pushed his shirt back. He was beautiful in the most masculine sense of the word. Hard. Sexy. Lava hot. And very, very turned on, if his shallow breathing pattern was anything to go on. She knew now just how much he’d been holding back downstairs. He was like a sexual force of nature. Unstoppable.
She bit down and gasped as he drew patterns on her clitoris, his mouth hot on her ear.
‘I’m gonna slide my cock inside you,’ he whispered, switching to a steady rhythm.
‘Right here,’ he pushed two fingers inside her, his thumb still working her clit. Genie cried out, opening wider, clamping her leg around his thigh. ‘Beauty…’ he breathed as he ran his tongue over her ear. ‘Sweet Jesus…’ he groaned as she rode herself against his hand.
She was going to come. He had her rapt, spiralling, grinding down on his pumping fingers. She wanted everything he had. His hands, his mouth, his cock. All of it, right here in this lift. She couldn’t breathe, she was so close, so ready.
‘Oh my fucking God,’ she gasped, biting her lip as he slammed her harder against the wall, his mouth all over hers, his fingers knuckle deep inside her. She opened her eyes almost in shock as her orgasm started, and found his eyes open too, watching her. Dark. Lost. Possessive. Filthy. His lips parted slightly as his breath dragged out of his chest and his hips rocked against his hand between her legs. It was as close to fucking as it got. Every inch of Genie’s body tensed as he crooked his fingers inside her, massaging her g-spot.
‘Abel…’
He held her steady and kissed her through it. Through every dazzling, bone-melting second of her orgasm, every breathless gasp, every tremor. His lips roved over her mouth, drinking from her, connecting her to him in every way possible as her body broke hard for him.
‘That was pretty fucking sexy,’ he whispered a few seconds later, slowly straightening her panties and smoothing her dress over her hips before buttoning his shirt as the lift started to move again. She swallowed with difficulty as the doors slid open, unable to speak yet. Hell, she could barely stand up.
‘Not our floor,’ Abel mouthed against her ear, moving to stand close behind her against the wall as several people stepped into the car. A couple. A businessman. Was it obvious to them what they’d just been doing? Surely it had to be written all over her face that she’d just had the best orgasm of her life?
Abel’s hand rested on her hip, and as the car began to move he drew her back and settled his still hard cock against her ass. ‘How do you want it?’ he spoke quietly, but Genie was pretty certain the other woman heard him. He kissed her neck slowly, sending a shudder of pleasure from her scalp to her toes. ‘Like this, from behind?’ he murmured as his fingers spanned her stomach, holding her against his erection as more people stepped in at the next floor. Clearly their three-minute lift stop had caused something of a backlog. It was getting a little crowded.
She all but yelped as his hand moved over her ass. ‘I want you on your knees…’ he whispered, and she closed her eyes. The man melted her. ‘I want you on your back…’ his voice was lethal in her ear. ‘I want you on my cock, Beauty.’
The lift stopped again at the last but one floor and everyone except Genie and Abel stepped out of the car. As the doors slid closed, the woman turned back and flicked an appreciative glance towards Abel, and an envious one at Genie. She couldn’t blame her. The man radiated sex, and right now, late night and turned on, he was the dictionary definition of hot as hell.
Abel shoved his keycard into the slot on the door, desperate to get them both the other side of it. He’d tried, he really had, but any honourable thoughts about not screwing Davey Divine’s niece had taken a hike the moment that she’d turned her face into his kiss. There was something about the girl that seemed to hot-wire his cock into action, and Christ, was she responsive. The way her body had jumped when he touched her, and the look on her face when she orgasmed… he wanted to see that again and again tonight.
They tumbled into the room, a molten tangle of limbs and open mouthed kisses. He needed her naked and beneath him just about more than he’d ever needed anything from any woman in his life.
Reaching for the tie on her dress, he tugged it.
‘I’ve wanted to do that from the moment you walked into the bar tonight,’ he muttered, aware that his breathing was as ragged as hers. Her dress fell open, revealing her body to his eyes for the first time.
Abel dragged in a deep breath, stepping back enough to look at her properly.
‘Fuck. Fuck, Beauty…’ The sweet, full curves of her breasts beckoned him in, creamy and lush in black lace that offered her up to him like the star prize in the best quiz show on earth. Her dress fell to the floor when she shrugged, leaving her business-like image on the bedroom floor where it belonged.
It was the perfect segue from boardroom to bedroom, aside from just one thing. Abel reached for the clip in her hair and released it, drawing in a deep breath as the lush ruby waves tumbled down around her shoulders. She was breathless and siren-like, the dip of her waist calling out to his hands, the way she automatically stood with one knee slightly bent and her head a little to one side inviting him in. He shed his shirt fast, needing his skin against hers. Seeing her like this kicked his heart rate up to dangerous levels.
‘Take your bra off. I want to look at you,’ he whispered, tracing her lips with his tongue, trailing one finger across the warm rise and slope of her breasts. He stopped breathing when she moved back a little, a tiny smile playing over her face as she flicked first one shoulder strap off and then lifted her other delicate shoulder as if to ask him if she should do that one too.
His lips parted when she pushed it down, then reached up behind herself with a slight shimmy of her shoulders for his benefit. It worked. He couldn’t take his eyes off her breasts, his anticipation sky high at the thought of seeing her naked. Once again she paused and looked at him through her lashes, and all at once, his heart lurched with unexpected familiarity.
The pieces slotted into place and Abel finally realised exactly who the stunning, confident woman in front of him was. He knew, because these were once seen, never forgotten curves. He’d willed this girl to bare her breasts once before, only back then he’d been one of hundreds in the crowd watching her strip for their approval, for their ticket money. How? How had he not realised before? How had his brain not connected the fucking dots?
He dropped to sit on the edge of the bed, his head in his hands, his cock still painfully hard. He’d been played. She wasn’t just the deputy theatre manager and Divine’s niece. And he, Abel Kingdom, didn’t screw strippers or prostitutes.
‘Put your fucking dress back on and get out of here, Genie.’ He laid a heavy emphasis on her name.
She didn’t move a muscle.
‘Why does it matter what I do?’ she said quietly after a full minute. He stood up with a heavy, harsh sigh, picking her dress up and shoving it towards her. Her almost bared breasts rose and fell heavily as she stared at him, wide-eyed, and it took everything he had not to throw her down on the bed and screw himself into her beautiful body until he wasn’t angry any more.
Only he wasn’t just angry. He was fucking furious. With her, and with himself. She had no right to wear that hurt, confused expression on her face while she stood there half naked, making him want the things he despised most of all in the world.
‘It fucking matters,’ he said through gritted teeth. ‘Get dressed.’
This time around she did move to pick up her dress, tying it around her body with shaky fingers.
‘I’m not ashamed of what I do, Abel,’ she said, her voice quiet and brimming with defensive pride. ‘You didn’t seem to mind so much when you watched the show the other night.’
He hated that she’d seen him there. Shoving his hand into his back pocket, he pulled out a sheaf of notes.
‘I don’t know what you charge for a night. That ought to cover it.’
Genie stared at the money he held out for a few long seconds, and then looked back up at him again with an ocean of disgust in her clear green eyes. She knocked the notes from his fingers with the back of her hand, scattering them across the floor as she turned on her heel and left the room.
