My pulse starts throbbing hard. ‘Well, you did leave the champagne in a very accessible place,’ I reason.
‘That’s true,’ he concedes generously.
‘I could make it up to you,’ I suggest.
He takes my right ankle in his warm hand. It’s like a molten spike of sensation, but I don’t fidget or react. I keep my palms firmly glued to the surface of the desk on either side of me. With a mocking smile he removes my shoe and lets it drop to the floor. A half-grin tugs at his mouth. ‘Oh yeah?’
That half grin turns my insides to mush. My face feels flushed. His hand on my ankle is doing things to me, making me tingle. ‘Yeah,’ I whisper, my voice husky.
He takes off the other shoe. ‘How?’ he purrs.
Jesus! My brain feels completely addled. ‘I don’t know. I do give an incredible blowjob.’
Something flashes in his eyes. He drops the shoe. ‘That’s good to know, but I’m afraid, we Russians, we’re big on honoring debts and keeping our word. If we say we’ll be somewhere in an hour, we make sure we’re there.’
I think for a moment. ‘We Americans are too. And that is why I am sitting on your fucking table without my panties.’
He eyes me hungrily as if I’m food or prey. ‘It warms my heart to hear that Americans honor their word.’
I smile seductively. ‘Hmmm … but I heard somewhere that you ate your own heart.’ Let him know that I’m not backing down.
Laughter pours out of him like oil from a jar. Smooth, golden, dazzling. ‘You shouldn’t listen to gossip, Dahlia moy. Now be a good girl and open your legs. I want to fuck you.’
I lick my dry lips. ‘Just like that?’
‘Uh … huh.’
‘And it’s always going to be like this?’
He raises his eyebrows. ‘Like what?’
‘So emotionless.’
He considers the question. ‘I guess so.’
‘Why? Why does it have to be so cold and impersonal?’
A smooth shrug. ‘Because I like it so.’
I swallow hard. ‘Or maybe because you are afraid?’ I whisper.
Dizzying seconds pass. His eyes glitter dangerously, and I see the helldamned shadow inside him, but then, he laughs. ‘Afraid of what, little one?’ he queries softly.
‘Of feeling something.’
‘Something for you?’ he mocks.
I don’t let my expression show my embarrassment. ‘For any woman,’ I bite back.
He looks at me curiously, intrigued. ‘What would make it less … cold for you?’
‘Maybe if we kissed?’
His expression does not change. ‘Go ahead. Kiss me.’
I lean forward and instantly his scent envelops me. Heady. I let my hands drift up to his wide shoulders and settle on those lean muscles. I start moving towards him. His lips come closer and closer to mine. Hell, must he be so gorgeous?
My heart is beating so loud he probably hears it. Breathlessly, I let my mouth dust the side of his neck, and he becomes completely rigid. Under my fingers his muscles are hard and tense. Not exactly the reaction I am looking for, but at least he’s not immune. I nuzzle at a madly throbbing pulse and treat it to delicate little kisses. Soft, innocent butterfly whispers.
Leaving that fiercely beating pulse I rest my forehead against his. My hands rise up to capture his face. His skin feels like raw silk against the palms of my hands. His warmth seeps through. My lips part and so do his. Our breaths mingle.
As bold as a lamb approaching a lion, I let our lips touch.
His mouth is soft and full. He tastes of coffee and something magical. Savoring the taste I move my mouth over his, gently and suggestively … deepening the kiss. My whole body flushes with heat and euphoria. From the roots of my hair to the tips of my toes. Warmth spills out of my heart. Oh God! How long has it been since I felt like this? Smoldering heat uncurls deep inside me.
Then I realize.
He is not kissing me back.
I draw back slightly, the lovely heat inside me evaporating like mist in the morning sunlight. He remains still and unresponsive. I lift my eyes and look into his. They stare back at me like beautiful, lifeless stones.
‘Now can we do it my way?’ he asks.
It is like being slapped. He deliberately trapped me into humiliating myself. I let my hands drop away from his face and lean away from him. Inside, my pride and something else are fatally wounded, outside, I show only fury.
‘I think I’m going to end up hating you,’ I spit venomously.
‘There you go. Emotion,’ he taunts.
I glare at him. God, I have never met such an infuriating man. I want to rake my fingernails down his smug, arrogant face, and add another scar to go with the one that’s already there.
Calmly he reaches forward, grabs the front of my blouse, and rips it open suddenly. Buttons fly in all directions.
‘What the hell are you doing?’ I protest angrily, my hands automatically covering my chest, even though he has already seen my breasts bare.
‘What I always want to do when I’m around you. Ravish you.’
‘What, the great Zane needs to force himself on an unwilling woman?’ I taunt.
His eyes glint with genuine amusement. ‘I think we both know that you are not unwilling.’
‘I was willing, but I’ve changed my mind. You’re a cold, unfeeling brute. I don’t know what I ever saw in you. I am no longer willing. So there.’
He laughs. A hard mocking sound. So different from the earlier laugh. ‘Lust and passion don’t come from a tap, American fox. You can’t just turn it off.’
‘Well, I just did,’ I tell him coldly.
He smiles wickedly. ‘So you don’t mind if I put it to a test?’
I look at him suspiciously. ‘What are you planning to do?’
‘If you don’t completely lose your head in the next two minutes you can walk out of this house and never return.’
My eyes widen with shock. ‘What?’
‘You heard,’ he growls.
Two minutes. I can do two minutes. I’m not that desperate. Forewarned is forarmed. I’ll do the same thing he did to me. No matter what I feel inside, I will remain cold and unresponsive. I glance at my watch. ‘Your time starts now.’
He looks at his own watch. ‘It’s not that I don’t trust you. It’s just that—’
‘Of course not,’ I interrupt acidly.
‘Mine has seconds,’ he finishes.
My jaw juts out. ‘So does mine.’
With unhurried movements he unfastens the front clasp of my bra. My breasts burst free, and unfortunately for me, my nipples are already hard. I take a deep breath and sneak a look at my watch. Seven seconds have passed. He takes the globes in his hands and kneads them gently.
I smile tightly at him and he laughs confidently.
Casually, I let my eyes slide towards my wrist. Twenty seconds. His dark head moves downwards towards my chest. He captures a nipple and suckles it, and hot velvet alert! His mouth is so hot and cunning I feel a jolt go right down to my sex.
Shit. You need to find a way to distract yourself.
I close my eyes and try to think of a particularly bad manuscript that I once read. It started off with a sex scene that was so unintentionally funny it deserved some sort of turkey award. The girls and I laughed for …
Oh God! Zane has captured a nipple between his teeth. I turn the moan that rises up my throat into a kind of throat clearing cough. At chest level the slick bastard stops and chuckles. He thinks he is so badass. Someone should tell him, he who laughs last, laughs longest.
His hand starts moving up my thigh and, what the hell? My legs, as if separate from me, part sluttishly to give him access. I lean back on the palms of my hands and close my eyes. Take deep breaths. If he can resist you, you can resist him. You’re not a Fury for nothing.
One finger enters me. Oh. My. God. It has to be at least one minute by now. He slips another finger in. Then his thumb gets in
on the act. It starts circling my clit like some sort of killer shark. Damn, if that doesn’t feel good.
My head starts feeling light. Against my will my hips rise up, a little, but it is definitely a rise. My belly feels like it’s starting to melt. Oh, hell. The throbbing in my sex becomes ferocious. It’s all getting to be too much. No. No. No. I’m not going to … come. Fuck it. I’m not. I’m just not. Oh no …
‘About to lose it, little fox?’ he mocks.
‘Don’t … Fucking … Call … meee … litt … Ahhhhh.’
The world begins to spin and spiral. Sparks of heat land on my skin. My head drops back and blood explodes in my brain. I lose all control and climax, screaming ferociously at him. Reality returns slowly. The fire inside me dims and I’m faced with reality. The ceiling is sky blue. Nice actually. I straighten my head and meet his sharp eyes.
He raises a condescending eyebrow.
‘A bit of humility would be an attractive quality to nurture,’ I say unsteadily.
‘I wonder how you would have crowed if you had won.’
‘I wouldn’t have.’
‘Well, we’ll never know,’ he says carelessly, and pushes me down on my back.
A sheaf of papers and a pen press into my flesh. I close my eyes and hear the metal rasp of his zipper. Fresh desire tightens my belly. I want his flesh inside me, and he knows it too. He grips my bare ass with hot, rough hands and pulls my hips towards him. He forces his cock between my thighs and he rams it home, stretching me. I gasp. So full.
‘You’re so fucking tight,’ he growls, his breath rough and ragged, and his fierce eyes kindling like live coals.
He begins to thrust. Hard and slow, then faster and faster. The force makes me breathless, and my body arches and jerks on the desk. Hell, the man’s a demon. With a great roar and his whole body shuddering, he comes. His fluid mingles with mine, hot and sweet.
For a few seconds longer he remains inside me. Then he withdraws and I lift myself up. As he pulls up his trousers and zips up, I hop off the table, do up my bra and pick up my shoes. Wordlessly I start walking towards the door.
‘By the way I don’t like the way you dress.’
The cheek of the man. My temperature shoots up. I turn around and look at him with a withering expression.
‘Noah has arranged for a personal dresser he knows to come and point you in the right direction. Tell her you need an entire wardrobe. Evening dresses, beachwear, casual wear. The whole works.’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Get something for tonight. I’m taking you to dinner.’
I don’t respond. Let that be my little rebellion.
Zane
I shake out a cigarette, tap it, light it and take a deep draw. Nicotine fills my lungs. I turn my chair around to face the window. The vista beyond is my favorite part of the garden. No one ever goes in it except my Japanese gardener, Akio. Most people who stand at my window and look out will see a bunch of rock, some shrubbery and some stones, but if they looked, really looked, they’d see its real beauty.
They’d see a waterfall.
They’d see that the rocks and the stones have been composed to look like water cascading through shrubbery. Sometimes I watch Akio working, meticulously and lovingly raking his plot of small white stones as if he is combing his lover’s hair. The teeth marks left by his rake are faultlessly straight. There is never a moment when he falters, hesitates or dithers.
His dedication to detail is impressive. He is bent over with age, but even the smallest stone rolling away does not escape his beady eyes. It is picked up and returned to its exact place.
A place for everything and everything in its place.
I take a few more puffs and grind out my cigarette. Fuck it. She’s just a stone that has rolled away from its proper place. I need to get her back to where she belongs.
She’s just a bit of pussy. Nothing more. The hunger will pass and the sooner I get that through my thick head the better.
Fourteen
Dahlia Fury
Back in my room I clean up, don a baggy T-shirt, and notice that Stella has left a text message.
U won’t believe. Crazy Richmond bitch finally came through with her rich and famous contacts. Got me an appt. with Andre Rieu next week!!!! :) xxxxxx
I have no idea who Andre Rieu is and quickly Google him. Turns out he is a famous Dutch violinist and conductor. I call her immediately.
‘Congratulations, babe,’ I shriek. ‘You’ve arrived. I’m so impressed. Your dainty fingers will soon be dancing over the A-List!’
‘Nobody is more impressed than me,’ she says bashfully.
‘Soon all kinds of celebrities will be flying you all over the world as part of their entourage,’ I tease.
‘If they know what’s good for them,’ she jokes.
I laugh and sit on the bed. ‘So what are you up to today?’
‘Nothing much. I’ve a dance class in an hour and three sessions this evening. What about you? How’s sexual domination working out for you?’
‘It’s …’
‘Actually don’t tell me. I’m not ready to hear.’ There is an awkward pause. ‘How’s Noah?’
‘He’s fine. I don’t think—’
At that moment I hear a sharp buzzing sound. ‘What the hell? Hang on a minute. Can you hear that noise? Do you know where it’s coming from?’
‘It sounds like the intercom system. Go pick up the phone by the door.’
I look towards the door and notice a wall phone next to it. ‘Don’t go away. I haven’t finished talking to you yet,’ I tell Stella and pick up the phone.
Noah says, ‘Lunch will be served at 1 p.m. and your appointment with your personal shopper is at 2 p.m. Her name is Molly Street. Wait for her in the living room. The one with the big painting of fish.’
‘OK. Thanks.’
‘See you later,’ he says and rings off.
I return the receiver to the wall and put my mobile back to my ear.
‘What’s going on?’ Stella asks.
‘I’ve got a woman coming at 2 o’clock to help me revamp my wardrobe. Apparently Zane doesn’t think much of my fashion choices,’ I explain sourly.
She giggles. ‘Did you wear your striped blouse and grey skirt?’
‘Yes,’ I admit reluctantly.
‘They’re truly awful. I warned you not to take them,’ she scolds.
‘I know, but they are so comfortable.’ Well the blouse was until Zane tore it.
‘You get to keep the new wardrobe, right?’
‘I don’t know, but I guess so.’
‘Get some sexy stuff and get something in my size too.’
I laugh. Then she has to go because the postman is at the door, so I end the call and work until lunchtime. Lunch is roast duck with apples, vegetables, roast potatoes, and some kind of creamy salad. I eat alone. I leave the door open so I can hear the staff in the kitchen eating and talking animatedly, but I don’t attempt to join them. They’re all talking in Russian, and if I go in there they will be forced to start speaking in English, when it’s clear they are more comfortable speaking in their mother tongue. Besides, I’m just a temporary installation. No point in getting too close.
After lunch I go into the living room with the painting of the fish and wait for Molly Street. There’s a glossy racing magazine on the coffee table and I flip through it without any real interest.
I don’t hear the doorbell, but the living room door opens and Noah shows in a pretty lady with shoulder-length strawberry blonde hair, bright blue eyes, and a cute button nose. She is dressed in jeans, a pink sweater and a darling pair of pointy, two-inch high ankle boots in black suede.
‘Thanks Noah,’ she says.
He nods and closes the door. She turns towards me and smiles broadly. ‘Hello. So you’re Dahlia Fury. Sensational name,’ she says chattily.
I smile back. ‘I think your name’s rather special too.’
‘Well, it’s not really my name. I
made it up,’ she confesses with a wide grin.
I laugh. I think I’m going to get along just fine with Molly Street. She looks around her. ‘God. Isn’t this house gorgeous?’
‘Yeah. I guess it is.’
There is a knock on the door and the woman I had met coming up the stairs yesterday comes in. She offers us refreshments. I shake my head, but Molly asks for tea. After the woman goes out Molly comes towards me.
‘Right, let’s have a little look at you,’ she says and walks around me quickly casting a professional eye over me. She stops in front of me.
‘Here’s how I normally work. You tell me what you want to achieve: three inches taller, three inches slimmer, impress a new boss, seduce an old boyfriend, seduce a new boyfriend,’ she smiles, ‘then, I’ll run around tomorrow, find the clothes and accessories that I think will suit your needs best, and bring them over to you. You’ll try them on and if you like them you keep them and I’ll bill you, in your case, Noah for the clothes and my time. Is that OK with you?’
‘Yeah, great.’
‘So, what look are we going for today, sophisticated, smart, sexy, casual …?’
‘I’d like to look more …’
She waits expectantly.
‘Glamorous and sexy,’ I finish.
‘With a smoking body like yours, piece of cake,’ she assures confidently.
I blush to the tips of my ears.
‘Believe me, sometimes I have my work cut out for me. Having said that though, I haven’t had a single client who hasn’t been left standing in front of a mirror admiring the change in her appearance.’
‘With that kind of job satisfaction you must really love what you do,’ I say, thinking what a lovely job that must be. So much better, I think, than leaving coffee ring stains on manuscripts and sending out sterile rejection letters all day long.
‘Well,’ Molly says with a sunny smile. ‘I love finding beautiful things, sometimes rare things, and putting them all together with the right accessories. I love making my clients look the way they always dreamed of. I also come across a lot of snooty cows that I want to bitch slap even as I am saying, “And what about this lovely coat Madam? It’s so this season.”’
You Don't Own Me: A Bad Boy Mafia Romance (The Russian Don Book 1) Page 9
