Blackmailed by the Hero

by Julie Particka

  Soon enough, curiosity won out over caution. She pushed the door open and found herself bathed in candlelight. The flower path led straight to the massive bed, where a single red rose waited on a white pillow.

  “Do you like it?”

  Vicky gave a little jump as Dante’s voice came from behind her. She hadn’t heard him at all. “It’s… Do you do this for all your women?”

  A glass of wine entered her field of view as he wrapped an arm around her. She took it with trembling hands, and he whispered into her ear, “First, stop. There are no all my women. There’s you. And, if it really matters, I’ve never done anything like this before.”

  The entire scene, it was too much. Combined with the stress and pent-up desire of the day, she giggled. “I feel like I’ve walked onto a movie set.”

  He nipped at her earlobe. “Is that a bad thing?”

  “It’s just every romantic cliché ever.”

  “Again…is that really a bad thing?” He trailed kisses down her neck, and her eyelids fluttered until she finally gave in and let them close.

  “No. Just unnecessary. All I want is you.”

  Slowly, as if moving to some music she couldn’t hear, Dante stepped around her, took both their wineglasses, and set them on his dresser. Then he wrapped her hands in his and led her toward the bed. “And I want you. But I also want you to feel like I give a damn.” He picked up the red rose and handed it to her. “I want you, Vicky Stone. I’ve wanted you for five years, and I sure as hell want you to know I thought you were worth the wait.”

  The smile that crossed her face felt so unfamiliar she didn’t recognize it at first. Then she remembered…the last time she’d worn it was the first time Dante had flirted with her—five years ago. It was shy and quiet and so unlike her normal personality that it seemed he was the only person in the entire world who could bring it out. She took the rose, unashamed of her response but trying desperately to rediscover the woman who’d thought about jumping him on their flight, much less the one who’d let him eat her out at the opera. “Now what?”

  “Now”—without warning, he swung her into his arms, and she let out a little shriek—“I ravage your body until you can’t handle it anymore.” The next thing she knew she was on the bed, his mouth on hers as her zipper slid down. His lips traveled lower as he eased the dress off her shoulder.

  As soon as he found her nipple, he began teasing it with his tongue, and Vicky’s eyes rolled back in her head. God, no one had done that for…years. Too many years. He sucked it firmly into his mouth, and she groaned, arching off the bed.

  Dante took the opportunity to slide her dress the rest of the way off, releasing her breast in the process. Then he looked down at her with heat in his eyes. “If you’d asked me earlier if you could be more beautiful than you were at the opera, I would have insisted there was no way. But now… You are the most gorgeous view on the face of the planet.”

  Vicky ducked her head, blushing. Shy again. What was it about him that made her feel like such a teenager? “It’d be even better if we were naked and gorgeous together. Don’t you have some new tattoos to show me or something?”

  His lips shifted to his trademark grin, and her insides tightened, wishing there was something to clench. Then he yanked off his bow tie and lost his jacket and shirt. Jesus, she’d forgotten how perfect he was. Every inch of him chiseled muscle, and on top of that art was the beautiful ink work he’d had done. Before he went for his pants, she sat up, her fingers tracing the new piece right below his clockwork heart. The script was simple, and in that simplicity was its beauty. It was nothing but the word “trust.”

  Dante didn’t say anything as she examined the tattoo. It wasn’t his only new piece, but it fascinated her, as if he needed a daily reminder to trust his own heart.

  She pressed her lips to the ink, to the warmth of his skin, and then shifted her gaze to look up at him. “I trust you, Dante, more than you can possibly know.” She did, too, and for the very first time, it didn’t scare her at all.

  …

  A fist squeezed around Dante’s heart. If she knew what the tattoo was really about, she might not trust him—at all. But they weren’t here to talk about his past, much less relive things that had gone so very wrong. Tonight was about this moment and making sure it went right. Her fingers were still on the tattoo, and he grasped her wrist, shifting her hand away, and pulled her to stand in front of him. “Undo my pants. I want to feel you touching me like you did that first night, but this time I want you to know it’s me you’re touching. Know that I’m the one who is hard for you, aching for you.”

  “No wrong bed this time.” Vicky’s hand eased from his grip and slid down his skin to cup him through his pants. Her lips quirked to the side as he let out a low moan. This was torture, but it was worth it. As if she wanted to make his agony last, she slid the zipper down as slowly as possible. “I like that sound. Make it for me again.”

  He couldn’t have resisted if he tried. He moaned, louder and longer, as her fingers slid beneath the silk of his trousers. A slight shift of her hands, and his pants dropped to his ankles.

  “How did I know you were the kind of guy to go commando?”

  Dante had to clench his teeth for a second as her grip tightened and she stroked him. When he was sure he could breathe again, he laughed, saying, “I’ve been told a gentleman always dresses to match his lady.”

  “Smart-ass.” She stroked him again, fingering his tip, and he hissed in a breath. “What happened to the piercing?”

  If he didn’t have her soon, he was going to explode. As it was, he could barely focus on the question. “Some people worry about piercings and condoms, so I took it out until we could both get tested and I could confirm you were on birth control, too, just in case.”

  Her ministrations paused for a moment, and she said, “That’s incredibly thoughtful of you. So thoughtful, in fact, it makes me want to give you something, too.”

  Before he formed a thought to respond, she was on her knees and wrapping her lips around him. Her warm, wet mouth stroked him, sucking all the while. His hands tangled in her hair, moving with her, until the moment his balls started to go tight. No. This wasn’t what he’d planned at all, no matter how fucking fantastic it felt. Using his hold on her hair, he gently drew her off his cock. “Vicks, not tonight. I want to be buried hilt-deep between your legs the first time I come with you. And maybe the second and third, too.”

  The smile that shone up at him was full of something that looked so much like love it made his heart ache again. “I’d like you buried hilt-deep in me as often as possible.”

  He almost came on the spot. “Lie down.”

  With a condom in hand, Dante crawled on the bed after her. If he rolled it on now, things would be over far too soon. Better to make sure they were both well satisfied.

  He lay on his side next to her and toyed with her nipples. “I’m going to touch you, and I want you to tell me when you like what I’m doing.”

  “And on the off chance I don’t?”

  “Then show me how to do it better.” Her laugh was cut off when his fingers slid between her legs, sweeping wetness over her labia. His touch glided over her skin even as he put pressure on her clit. She was so damned hot and wet, her skin soft as silk. “Like this?”

  “Yes,” she gasped. “But rub it.”

  Dante smiled against her breast, nipping at the curve. He loved the way she sounded, breathless and so incredibly turned on. He was going to milk this moment for all he was worth. “Rub it how?”

  Her hips started to shift against his hand, and she whimpered. “Circles, back and forth, I don’t care, just please…”

  As if she knew he’d do anything with that one word attached to it, she didn’t bother finishing the sentence. His fingers moved in slow circles over her clit, and he watched as her eyes rolled back.

  “More, Dante. I need more.”

  “You want me inside you?”

  “Yes. So
fucking much.”

  He was so hard he was afraid even with jacking off on the plane that he’d come as soon as he entered her. But he also knew it would be like this until he finally had her, at least once. He eased his fingers into her cleft. Hot and soaked, she clenched at him as she moaned her need again. Thank God. Inside her, even like this, he wasn’t sure he could wait any longer. He had the condom on in seconds and poised himself over her, his cock teasing her entrance.

  She looked up at him, desperation in her eyes as she pleaded, “Are you trying to kill me?”

  Only as much as he was trying to kill himself with waiting. “I just wanted to make sure you knew how beautiful and amazing I think you are.”

  “I know. Just please f—”

  Her breath caught as he thrust into her and her muscles clamped around his length. He held still for a minute, just enjoying the sensation of her grip—on his dick, on his arms. “Sorry. If I went any slower, it’d be over already.”

  Reaching up, she twined her fingers in the ends of his hair. “Never, ever, ever apologize for doing what you just did to me.”

  He lowered himself to plant one soft kiss on her lips. “Message received, loud and clear.” Pushing up, he grinned at her, watching as that shyness made her lower her lashes. “And with that in mind, you better hold on.”

  If she didn’t want him to hold back, he sure as hell wasn’t going to restrain himself. He’d waited too long for this moment. From the first thrust, every move he made, her body responded, curving toward his, her muscles flexing, pushing them closer. It was as if their very skin wanted to merge. She went from clinging to his biceps to her fingernails digging into his pecs, the little points of pain driving him on but making it harder and harder to delay his orgasm.

  She clenched around him, and her mouth dropped open. It might have been the force of her orgasm. It might have been the sound of her screaming his name. Or the way it echoed in the empty house. Whatever the ultimate cause, he came with so much force his arms shook as he held himself over her.

  It wasn’t until the muscles of her vagina relaxed that he pulled out. Lying next to her, he drew her close until her head rested on his chest, right over his heart. “That was worth the wait.”

  “I’m not so sure.” He opened his mouth to retort, but she nipped at his chest and said, “I’m kind of kicking myself for making you wait at all.”

  He was, too, but he certainly wasn’t going to bring up her ex. Not now, not ever if he didn’t have to. “We definitely need to make up for lost time. It might take me a few minutes to recover, though.”

  “Maybe we could find other ways to entertain ourselves.” She lazily traced his ink with her fingernail, and he tried not to shiver beneath her.

  “What did you have in mind?” As long as it involved the two of them naked and together, he was in.

  “Well, I do have one idea that could be kind of hot…”

  …

  Vicky bit her lip. She’d read about this a couple times; she’d just never thought to actually do it. But with all the candles burning around them, how could she resist? “Are your eyes closed?”

  “How many times are you going to ask me that, Vicks?”

  “Until I believe you?” But she looked at the trust tattoo on his chest and realized she’d believed him the first time. She was afraid once she started that he’d freak and think less of her. Which was stupid. The guy had tattoos all over and had pierced his magnificent dick. A little hot wax wasn’t going to bother him.

  She picked up the nearest candle, a thin burgundy taper, and held it far away from his chest. He hissed in a breath as the first drop hit.

  “Too hot?” She winced.

  “No. I wasn’t expecting it, is all.” He wiggled a little beneath her, seeming to get more settled against the mattress. Definitely not bothered.

  Vicky let out a breath, her nerves leaving with it. Dante wasn’t Brandon. Dante honestly wasn’t like any guy she’d ever been with. He trusted her as much as she trusted him. The feeling made her bold, and she tipped the candle, trailing wax all over the side of his chest free of ink. “I want to put my art on you, too.”

  His pecs twitched. “You can mark me however you want.”

  “In that case, I want more color.” She returned the taper to its holder and picked up a little magenta votive and drizzled wax in a heart shape as Dante tensed his muscles beneath hers. A little longer, and all she was going to want to do was claw her nails through the wax and do whatever was necessary to get him ready to take her again.

  She put the votive back on the shelf over the bed and grabbed a bold red pillar. There was a nice puddle of melted wax just begging to decorate him. If she was careful, maybe she could use it to fill in the heart she’d just drawn. Lowering it for more control, she tilted it sideways.

  Had Vicky not been sitting astride him, Dante would have been off the bed with the way his body jumped. “Son of a bitch!” The candle went flying, thankfully extinguished by the rush of air against it.

  Vicky rolled off him. “Oh my God. Are you okay?”

  “Yeah,” he moaned. Wincing, he tried to lie still. “No,” he said as he got up.

  She made it to the bathroom before he did, dousing a washcloth in cold water. She pressed it to his skin as he stepped into the brightly lit room, and his eyes rolled back so quickly she worried he might pass out. “Dante?”

  “I’m still here. Not sure all my skin is, though.”

  A quick peek under the washcloth showed the flesh right around the last of the wax almost matched it in color. “I’m so sorry.”

  “Don’t.” He caught her hand and held on until she met his eyes. “I was enjoying it until that. Don’t get the look that says never again. We’ll buy some low-temp candles. You know, the kind designed for this sort of thing.”

  “I burned you, and your reaction is ‘we’ll just do it better next time’?” He shrugged, and she shook her head, wondering why the hell she’d been avoiding him for so damn long. “What are you? Superhuman?”

  “Nah. I just really like you.” He leaned in and planted a soft kiss on her forehead. “Okay, I think it’s cooled enough to flake it off.”

  Vicky’s hand hovered over the wax, fearful again. “What if it’s burned really badly? Shouldn’t we take you to a doctor?”

  “I’ve survived a lot worse than a wax burn, Vicks. Though you might owe me after this.”

  As much as she tried not to think about what she would owe him, as Vicky peeled the wax from his very red skin, she found herself imagining all sorts of options, each one getting her more and more excited—making her more and more wet. When the last flake of wax was gone, she pressed her lips to his tender flesh, trailing kisses over every inch she’d burned. “I am really sorry. How can I make it up to you?”

  He twisted his fingers in her hair, drawing her head back and pulling her body close with his other hand. No matter how badly his chest might hurt right now, other parts of him were functioning perfectly fine, especially the one getting harder and harder against her abdomen. “You can start by heading back into the bedroom. You’re on top this time—I want you to show me exactly how sorry you are. And I want to see every inch of you while you’re busy apologizing.”

  “I’m very sorry. This apology could take a while. Maybe all night.” She could barely restrain her smile as she stepped into the candlelit glow of the master bedroom.

  Dante was right behind her, his presence like heat at her back, warming her straight to her core. “I’m counting on it.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Today was the day. The cast had to attend a mixer for the makeup line that was going to be launched to go with the movie. Which meant Reed would be in attendance. Dante thought about telling Vicky she could skip this one. But he wasn’t going to be able to keep her away from Reed forever. Not to mention, how was he supposed to keep a woman away from a party where they’d be giving out free makeup?

  “Are you sure I’m dressed okay? I ne
ver did this sort of party with Evan.” Vicky smoothed down the skirt with her hands.

  “Positive. And stop being so nervous. You never went with your brother because he was your brother.” Dante took her fingers and gave them a squeeze.

  “And what am I to you?” When he looked askance at her, she shrugged. “I didn’t want to bring it up, but I really don’t know. You’re my brother’s best friend, an Elegant Entertainment client, the guy who blackmailed me to go out with him…but now? We had sex—a lot of sex over the last two days. I mean, we even went and got STD tested together, which I don’t think normal people do. Are we more than what all that other stuff says about us or not?”

  It was a fair question, more than fair, really, but he didn’t want to chase her away with labels. She’d made it pretty clear that she’d been looking for something casual initially, and sex didn’t mean that had necessarily changed. “What do you want us to be?”

  “Dante…” Every ounce of exasperation came out as she sighed his name.

  “I’m serious.” What he also was, though, was avoiding any talk of the blackmail—especially in lieu of them seeing Reed soon. He wanted to come clean, but not with that ass around, not if there was any chance Vicky was still interested. “I don’t want to smother you, but I don’t want to scare you off, either. So I’ll ask again, what do you want us to be?”

  She opened and closed her mouth a few times as if she wasn’t sure what outcome she’d hoped for or expected. This time her sigh was just as heavy, only with sadness tingeing it now. “I guess we can’t be anything other than friends officially. You’re a client, which means the same rules as before apply anyway. At least as far as the general public is concerned.”

  Dante pulled the car to a stop and arched a brow at her. “You mean if we fall madly in love, get married, and have two-point-five kids, you won’t be able to be my party planner anymore?”

  “I…don’t know.” Vicky’s brows knit together, and she started chewing on her lip. “That might be an exception, but I can also see Mathew insisting you work with someone else.”