by Fran Lee
She couldn’t get her breath. OMG. Had she really done that?
Her lack of response seemed to have been taken as permission to continue, and he leaned in close to whisper seductively in her ear. “You rubbed my cock through my pants until I thought I would burst, and when you pulled it out and sucked on it, I was lost. Hell yeah, you did all that.”
She squirmed on the seat, her pussy getting soaked just listening to him. And then he was on the floor between her thighs, and his hands were unzipping her slacks. “Have I made you horny telling you what you did to me? Would you like me to do that for you, Furie? Come on, lift your hips…” He dragged her slacks down and off her and shoved her legs wide, bending to lick her glistening pussy lips as he drew the wet thong aside.
Jill threw her head back against the seat and bit back the cry of delight that almost left her lips at the feel of his hot tongue laving her slit. “Stop! We’re almost to the airport.”
“Then you need to have an orgasm fast so the driver won’t find us here with my face buried in your cunt.” His voice was a rasp of amusement as he sucked her throbbing knot of hot nerves into his lips and tugged seductively on it until she arched up and shattered into a million sparkling embers.
“Another one?” He breathed against her pussy and she felt his lean fingers slipping deep into her as he sought her G-spot, while his lips tugged so delightfully on her clit once more.
“ Oh. My. God!” she gasped, as she spiraled once again into the throes of another trembling, splintering climax. And when he withdrew his fingers and licked them, his eyes holding hers, she breathed raggedly, “You are a wicked, wicked man, Boss.”
“And you are a hot, tasty morsel that I am going to thoroughly enjoy as soon as your party is over, and I get you alone again.”
Chapter Six
No amount of cajolery, threats or pleas could keep the damn man from boarding that plane, and so Jill settled in for the short flight home. Her nemesis closed his eyes and leaned back into his plush seat opposite hers, and she tried not to stare at him. She wanted to remain pissed off. But by the time they touched down at the commuter jetport at LAX, she had memorized every line and sexy whisker on his face, counted every deliciously long dark lash that curved over those high cheekbones, and had smiled as she discovered that he snored slightly, but only when his head fell off the side of the seat cushion.
When his eyes blinked open, and he yawned capaciously, Jill struggled to hide the fact that she had been ogling every damn inch of the man while he slept. Oh, but he was scrumptious. Even out cold, he was enough to keep her panties wet through the entire trip. Naked or clothed, he was enough to set a woman aflame.
As they debarked and she was seated in the elegant Rolls Silver Shadow that he had arranged to travel from LAX to her parents’ home in Culver, she wondered exactly how she was going to introduce her boss/husband to her family. Here she was, bringing home the man they all thought was a complete chauvinistic asshole, and she was sporting his huge ring. She winced as she thought of what her father would say to him, without even waiting to hear an explanation. And Tim and Tom…they had mentioned how they planned to flatten his face when they saw him. The twins were not going to cut the man an inch of slack, unless she could get to them first.
If the big jerk insisted on accompanying her, she needed to make certain he wasn’t going to get mangled. He watched her thoughtfully as she drew the sat phone out and dialed her parents’ house number. He said nothing. He waited until she got the voice mail and hung up in disgust before speaking.
“I already called. They know I’m coming with you.”
Her mouth dropped open. “You already called? When?”
“When you were taking your sweet time getting out of the hotel. I figured they needed to know the score. I must say, your mother took it well. But I could hear a male voice in the background threatening to take my cock and wrap it around my throat. I was flattered that he thought it was that long.” His lips curved into a wicked grin at the shock on her face.
“You told them,” she grated furiously.
“I told them. I’m not sure what reception I’ll get when we arrive, but there will be no shocks.”
Panic welled inside her. How the hell was she going to face her family? After all the years of hearing them say what a bastard Michael Furie was, and for her to end up married to him…oh God! She would never hear the end of it.
A lean hand wrapped itself around hers where it rested on her lap, twisting her teal pantsuit into a wad. She glanced up, and with her free hand dashed away the tears that slid down her face. “My brothers have sworn to rip your throat out. I hope you’re prepared for mayhem…”
“Is that tear for me? You don’t want to see my mangled body lying on the front lawn?” His voice was deep and gruff.
She drew a deep, shivery breath, and sniffed. Was it for him? Or was it for herself? How could she face her family when she was married to a man simply for his convenience? No white wedding. No big reception. No family breakfast. Of course, her dad would be thrilled that he’d been saved the huge expense of a wedding. But her mother had been cheated out of the fun of helping plan her only daughter’s trousseau.
Oh well. Maybe after her boss got tired of her, and divorced her, she could have the next wedding the way her mom had always planned. She drew a shivery breath, and then gasped aloud as her boss/hubby slipped a long arm around her and drew her into his chest in an almost comforting manner. “Relax. Somebody might think you don’t even like me, Furie.” His voice was a soft growl close above her ear, and she closed her eyes and buried her face against the warm, delicious skin of his throat.
“I hate you.” She breathed wearily.
“No, you don’t.” His chin rested on the top of her head, and she could feel it when he kissed her tousled hair.
“I want to hate you,” she amended as a shiver of reaction ran along her nerves at the touch of lean fingers slipping inside the neckline of her blouse to trace over the swell of her breast.
“We have half an hour before we arrive. Will that be enough time to convince you that you don’t hate me?” His lips caressed the nerve at the base of her ear, and she whimpered.
“Stop kissing me.”
“Okay,” he whispered huskily, and instead, he licked the vein that ran from her throat to her collarbone.
“Oooh,” she moaned, and shoved at his head without much effect. “I don’t want you touching me.”
Her voice sounded oddly breathless, despite her words. And every thought of rejecting his touch left her as he ran his mouth from her collarbone to her lips and took her mouth with a ferocity that stunned her. Every inch of her skin ached to be touched. Every private place in her body yearned to be invaded. And as his hands slipped under her blouse, and into her waistband, she melted into his kiss, unable to refuse him anything.
Mike wanted nothing more than to strip her bare and lick every inch of delicious skin within reach, but he knew that there was not enough time to do her justice. Amazed by his own need to taste Jill, he slid her blouse away from her breasts and licked and nipped them through the lace and satin of her bra. He dragged one satin-tipped nipple into his mouth and she groaned with pleasure as he slipped his hand farther into her slacks until his fingertips found the wet jewel he sought. His thoughts deserted him completely as he drove two long fingers deep into her hot, tight pussy, and massaged the sweet spot he knew would bring her to climax.
She arched into his hand as he used his tongue to simulate what his fingers were doing, and she sucked his tongue deep as she splintered into a shuddering, trembling orgasm that almost made him come in his slacks. He continued to fuck her sweet pussy with his fingers until she whispered raggedly, “Oh God, Mike. You’re killing me.”
He stopped moving his hand. Had she actually just called him by his name? He gave her clit a long, loving caress as he drew his wet fingers out of her and gently fondled her nub and labia, teasing until she gave a strangled cry and convu
lsed once again in a gasping, moaning climax.
“Are you sure you still hate me?” He reached up and gently tugged the ivory stick from her loosened hair, letting it fall in glorious tumbled curls around her flushed face.
“Yes…no…I don’t know!” Her sighing breath warmed his throat, and he chuckled as he drew his hand out of her slacks and wiped his glistening fingers with his pristine pocket handkerchief. He grinned at her pink face as he slowly inhaled her scent from the hanky before tucking it back into his breast pocket.
“How about helping me out, Furie?” His lips caressed her forehead, and she swallowed hard, then unzipped his slacks and tugged his swollen, thick cock free of his silk boxers and the fly of his slacks. “Sweet Jesus!” he groaned, and watched his wife slide to the floor of the rear seat and take him into her hot mouth without a moment’s hesitation. “Oh, you beautiful thing, you…” He ran his fingers through her thick curls, and closed his eyes as she devoured his shaft, her tongue licking the thick vein on the underside as she sucked him hard and deep.
Oh yeah, he had no intention of letting her go-ever.
Jill was shocked at herself. All it took to make her forget everything was a great orgasm. And the man could give her orgasms by the bushel. And he seemed to love doing it. As she zipped his slacks back up, and glanced in embarrassment up into his dark blue gaze, she wondered if she had always been a closet nympho, or if he brought that out in her. He smiled and pulled his hanky out of his pocket, and gently dabbed the side of her mouth to mop up a bit of cum that hadn’t managed to go down her throat. And for just that moment, the tender look in his gaze almost undid her resolve to walk away from him. He was looking at her as if he cared for her.
“I must look a total mess,” she breathed as she sank back onto the luxuriant leather of the seat and tucked her blouse back into her slacks.
“You look good enough to eat.”
“Oh please. Stop. You don’t need to pretend until we’re in front of my family.” Her voice shook. “I have to admit, Michael Furie, you are enough to drive a female insane with delight, but we both know you only married me to keep me from quitting my job, so keep the sweet nothings to a minimum.”
The quiet smile curving his decadent mouth was almost enough to make her forget her resolve to keep him at arm’s length for the rest of their time at her parents’ home. The limo was slowing and turning, and she chewed her lower lip to control its shaking. “Please…just please don’t start anything up with my brothers. I don’t want you torn to pieces. After all, you have to support me.”
“I won’t start anything. Unless they force me to finish something, there will be no violence.” His voice was amused.
“This isn’t funny. I’m freaking out here. My family has always detested you for the way you have treated me over the past few years…”
“You mean, I have mistreated you by paying you double what you would have earned elsewhere? By letting you have free run of my corporate holdings and my personal jet and making certain that your health insurance and dental insurance was the best money could buy?” His brows lifted questioningly.
Her face hot, she glared at him. “No…I mean, the way you call me at 3:00 a.m. to tell me you need me to get out of bed and go rescue you from some piranha in a hotel room by pretending to be your wife…” She gritted her teeth. “Or how you simply ‘forget’ that I have a birthday party scheduled and demand my presence in Aspen to rescue your sorry ass from a sweetie you referred to as ‘Miss Fashion Model Barbie’…”
His deep laugh was the last straw for her shredded nerves. Her hand shot out and should have connected smartly with his smiling mouth…except all of a sudden she was flat on the leather seat, her arms held firmly behind her back, and his narrowed gaze pinning her. He shook his head slowly, those sapphire eyes sparkling with dangerous intent. “Oh no…no slapping or biting, darling. You can scream and yell at me later, but we don’t want to spoil your birthday party with a cat fight, do we?”
“Oh…you…” she spluttered helplessly.
“I always knew there was a hellcat inside that cool, unflappable exterior, darling…but save it for later, where we can both enjoy taming it.”
“Stop calling me that,” she hissed as he pulled her back into a sitting position as the limo came to a halt.
“Calling you what? Darling? Isn’t that what a newlywed husband calls his wife?” His eyes crackled with enjoyment.
“I don’t believe you, Michael Furie! You are the most…the most…” she sputtered, then instantly composed her features as the driver pulled the door open, and she saw her father and mother standing on the porch of their home, waiting nervously. “I’ll tell you what I think of you later,” she hissed as she smoothed her hair and pasted on a happy smile as she slid from the leather seat and hurried up the steps to hug her parents.
Chapter Seven
Jill couldn’t believe it. The bastard had her parents and three of her brothers totally snowed. She watched in frustrated silence as Mike Furie wound her family around those long fingers like so much putty. Jim was young enough to be easily impressed by talk of the recording studio that her hubby/boss owned and used. Six of his gold and platinum albums had been recorded there. Just another of her hubby/boss’s many facets.
He had retired from the actual concert touring stuff a few years ago, but continued to be a springboard for other hot rock bands and groups who needed a leg up in the music business. And he’d been highly successful at that, just as he was with everything he did. Damn him. His own music career had made him a millionaire. His sharp business acumen had parlayed that into billions.
Now Michael Furie Enterprises was a conglomerate of a dozen hot and upwardly mobile companies involved in recording, promoting and arranging tours for hot new bands, designing and building some of the best rock musical instruments money could buy, designing and creating the finest electronics money could buy, and so on. The man had the Midas touch, and she was getting more and more pissed off at him with every passing minute.
But the straw that snapped the camel’s back was the way her hubby/boss totally disarmed the twins when they arrived at the house for the party with their oldest brother, Sam, and had them all eating out of his hand. With a disgusted growl, Jill excused herself from the festivities to go “freshen up” and, after changing into jeans and walking shoes, she sneaked out the kitchen door to walk in furious silence down through the kitchen garden to the rose terrace and the woods beyond.
Why it bothered her so much to see the man she had loved for the past seven years enchanting her entire family with that charismatic aura he wore so lightly was beyond her. But the tears that burned her lids were very real as she fought to control them, quickening her steps until she was lost in the inky blackness of the familiar leaf-clogged path that led from the back edge of her family’s property to the river’s edge below. She had walked this path for over twenty years, with her brothers and alone. It was as warmly familiar and welcoming as an old, dear friend as she inhaled the deep warm scents of oakmoss and pine needles and rotting humus.
He was back there stealing her own family from her. Infecting them with his wicked sense of humor and his overwhelming charisma. They were no longer her protective, tightly knit source of warmth. They were his newest sycophants. Even her own father, for Pete’s sake! The man who had sworn to tell the bastard what he thought of him. Her father was laughing jovially and slapping him on the back as if they were the best of pals. Damn the man. She felt like an outsider at her own fucking birthday party.
She followed the sloping path downward to the bank of the slow-moving little river…well, it had been a river to her at six, but it was really just a wide irrigation canal that wound its lazy way through the bottom lands toward the old barn and stables that had been empty for as far back as she could remember. They had once belonged to an old man who died about a dozen years back, and his family had never bothered to clear and use the old wooded property. But it had always been one
of her favorite haunts whenever she felt the need to hide from the world.
Frustrated at her perplexing anger over her family’s desertion to the enemy ranks, Jill slipped into the musty darkness of the rotting barn, closing her eyes and imagining that she was ten again, hiding from her brothers. Inhaling the familiar scents of age and decrepitation. Ancient sun-baked wood. Old limestone that was slowly going back to the earth from which it was mined.
She sank onto the old barrel that was still there…once her trusty steed while escaping hordes of wild Indians, but now simply a rusted-out old piece of metal with gaping holes in the end. Sighing under the weight of her own confusion, she found herself wondering how she was going to handle the letdown her family would inevitably feel when they found out that they had been played like a harp by a master conman. When they found out that their new golden idol had simply been selfishly expeditious in keeping her by his side, that he wasn’t madly in love with her at all.
She chewed her lower lip and closed her eyes. Her father and brothers would be absolutely livid. And Jill Turner would be absolutely devastated when he decided to release her from her “contract” once the novelty wore off.
* * * * *
“Where the hell is Jill?” Tim asked as he emerged from the kitchen. “She isn’t in the house.”
Mike glanced up from the blueprints Jill’s father had been showing him, explaining the plans to renovate the seventy-year-old house, and his dark brows knitted. “She went to freshen up.”
“For an hour?” Tom asked with a frown. He looked across the living room at his twin. “Did you check her room? Maybe she crashed and burned.”
“I was just there. Not in the bathroom. Door’s wide open. Not in the kitchen, and I went down to the rec room. Not there.”
Mike’s thoughts were on her mood when she had walked out of the living room. Odd how attuned he seemed to be to her moods since yesterday. She had seemed angry. Nothing he could really put a finger on, but…
