by Mari Carr
Best of all, the spot came complete with a gorgeous, refined woman to match.
“Well, now.” Belinda accepted the lingering kiss he pressed to her pursed lips. She didn’t often demonstrate affection in public. He could understand that, he supposed. “Isn’t that a lovely smile?”
Probably best not to admit he’d been thinking of his mom.
“All for you.” He frowned when he realized it’d likely be a few hours before he could check out the rest of her glamorous, red dress. Hopefully, as he peeled it from her inch by inch. The sweetheart neckline accentuated her full breasts without detracting from her propriety. Classic and understated, the platinum pendant with ruby accents he’d bought for her birthday nestled in the hollow of her throat. He planned to lick that spot later. It had been driving him mad for quite a while.
Not the kind of man to abstain for months on end, he’d reached the breaking point in their cat and mouse game. Tonight he could use a distraction—from his deadlines, tomorrow’s make-or-break meeting and the terror that had shaken his foundation last week when he’d learned Silas had almost… On top of that, Seth had texted about a spur-of-the-moment trip home. Sam had spent damn near twenty minutes trying to connect with his older brother to learn more. He’d failed. Something didn’t feel right, and it had him on edge. To hell with coy. He could use a sounding board. “I didn’t mean to keep you waiting. My brother—”
Belinda waved him off with a flick of her French manicure before he could relate the whole chain of events. He sank into the seat with a sigh, eating his confession about Silas, the Lucy and Colby situation, Seth and his captive and the laughs he’d shared with Sawyer over his quadruplet bust before Seth’s random visit to Wyoming. Silence made a bitter appetizer. Probably for the best. She wouldn’t appreciate him showing his roots. Reminding her of the dirt he’d sprouted from could constitute poor foreplay strategy.
“Excuses aren’t necessary, darling.” Her saccharine tone didn’t match the flash of her glare, which she attempted to veil with fluttering lashes.
Things had to go perfect here if he was to have a shot at convincing her to spend the night at his place. After that it’d be a small step to fusing their lives. Equals in business and partners at home. Someday soon she’d follow him up the corporate ladder. Hell, he’d thought for a while there she might beat him to the top and more power to her. He couldn’t imagine a more ideal match even if she required some convincing. Luckily, he had a few tricks up his sleeve.
Expensive ones. Her favorite kind.
“Let me make it up to you, B.” He’d been called charming by everyone from past girlfriends to the write-up The Wall Street Journal had done on fresh talent last year. Time to put his skills to good use.
“How do you plan to do that?” She canted her chin, allowing the flickering light to dance over her porcelain skin.
“I believe you’re about to find out.” Sam rested his shoulders on the tufted leather of the tall chair back and allowed the sommelier to present a peace offering.
“Madame.” He slid a bottle along his towel-draped forearm, label side out. “Your gentleman has selected a rare delight for tonight’s meal. An excellent choice.”
“Oh, let me be the judge. What will you serve us?” She baited the man with a tiny flex of her lips.
“A Premier Grand Cru Classé Bordeaux from Chateau Pavie of Saint-Émilion. The 2000 vintage.”
“Impressive.” She traced one manicured nail along Sam’s finger where it rested on his napkin. The too-sharp touch pricked his knuckle.
He refused to flinch.
“Though you might want to note for next time, I prefer Burgundies.”
The well-trained wine expert gulped as though he’d swallowed his tongue.
No doubt, cracking open a bottle this rare warranted at least some measure of excitement. Sam had shoveled shit an entire summer for the kind of cash he’d laid out for this extravagance. And he hadn’t thought twice about it. He was willing to indulge Belinda’s last-ditch effort at hard-to-get.
They shared a long glance—one that proved she knew as well as he did where they were headed. Soon. When he peered into her soft brown eyes as he buried himself slowly, gently, she would surrender enough to satisfy them both. He could afford to be gracious.
“Sir?” The sommelier provided one last chance to balk before breaking the seal.
“Uncork it.” Belinda gave the man the go-ahead to proceed with his elaborate ritual, though she never dropped eye contact with Sam.
“I thought we could celebrate early.” Sam cradled her hand in his, raising it to his mouth. He brushed soft kisses over her wrist until she withdrew from the caress of his lips.
“What’s the occasion?” She lifted a perfectly arched brow in his direction.
“I could pretend I’m sure of the partners’ acceptance of my proposal for a new investor growth fund, headed by me. I’d rather we didn’t lie to each other, though.” He thought about how much better it would have been if they’d waited to open the Bordeaux until they were in bed and drank it straight from the bottle…or off each other’s skin.
“I’m not sure I understand.” She batted her midnight lashes.
“Oh yes, you do.” He toned down his grin to avoid looking like the Cheshire cat or the big bad wolf. “We’ve been do-si-doing around each other for too long. I’m done circling.”
“Excuse me? I don’t speak hick.”
“I’ll class it up for you, dear.” He laced their fingers and trapped her hand to the table. Her sourpuss act had him turned on beyond belief. What the hell was wrong with him? “It takes two to tango, and I’m one hell of a dancer.”
“Awfully cocky, Mr. Compton.”
“You can say that again.” He relied on the charisma he’d inherited from JD to take the edge off his bluntness. “Determined and a shade stubborn as well.”
“Ahem.” The sommelier cleared his throat as he neared with the sample of wine he’d spun around a decanter to aerate.
“Do the honors, Belinda.”
Her eyes glittered as she breathed deep from the open mouth of the glass. The hard tips of her nipples made faint contours in the bust of her dress. In fact, they often did when she battled with someone in the boardroom.
Sam had noticed the quirk right away. He might even have instigated an argument or two in order to savor the spitfire’s reactions.
A dribble of wine flowed between her lips, nearly wringing a groan from him. Her jaw shifted as she rolled the liquid over her palate. Finally, her throat flexed. Sam’s eyes dried out as he stared.
Christ.
“It’ll do.”
He laughed. “Damn straight.”
The rest of dinner passed in a blur. Sam scarfed the extravagant meal, committing a heinous disservice to the chef. He could have eaten a bowl of Lucky Charms for all he knew. The only thing he wanted to taste was Belinda. If he could have draped her over the table and feasted on her flesh he would have done it, the other diners be damned. Even better, really.
No, no, no. No thinking of performing sexual acrobatics for elegantly dressed witnesses. No hard-ons allowed for his exhibitionist tendencies. Not if he had his heart set on Belinda, who could hardly stand the light weight of his palm on her lower back as he escorted her to his waiting car.
“I’m taking you home with me.” He didn’t ask as he tucked her into the bucket seat and stole a soft kiss.
She blinked.
He grinned at her rare speechlessness, then shut the door gently. Through the smoky glass he caught her tiny smirk before he attempted a dignified sprint around to the driver’s side.
Sam tried to take things slow. Before he realized it he’d peeled into his penthouse apartment’s reserved garage spot and assaulted Belinda in the private elevator on the ride to the top floor. Glass walls didn’t deter him one bit.
Let the world watch.
He somehow shed his clothes as he carried her to his room and laid her on the king-sized bed cov
ered in a plush Siberian goose-down duvet and Frette linens. The burn of her appreciative stare made every lousy hour in his home gym and the fresh salads he’d eaten instead of the red meat he’d grown up on worth the aggravation even if she didn’t tell him she liked what she saw. He didn’t need the verbalization, not when she licked her lips and trailed one finger down his abdomen toward his rigid cock.
“You’re overdressed for this party, Lin.” Sam traced the ruching across her tiny waist and hummed. “Gorgeous as it is, this dress has to go.”
He refused to fuck her with the silk wadded around her waist. It wasn’t like he was some adolescent who couldn’t wait long enough to do it right. Though, he wouldn’t lie. It was close.
A shiver went through her as he slid the zipper down her side, then slipped the sheath from her, swiping her understated yet outrageous nude, platform peep-toe heels from her feet. He peeked at the designer name—Louboutin—cataloging it for future gifting.
Black lingerie over pale, pale skin had his mouth watering more than the aged porterhouse that had graced his plate earlier.
“Fuck me.” He gritted his teeth and prayed for a sliver of restraint. Belinda wasn’t like other lovers he’d indulged in since leaving Columbia, and his attempts at sweet college romance, behind. This time he was playing for keeps. Scaring her away their first night together would ruin everything.
“Yes, please.” She covered his balled fist and drew it to her breast.
His fingers relaxed, plumping the handful of soft flesh coated with delicate lace. A seam popped when he teased her nipple beneath the edge of the cup. Unwilling to damage the high-quality garment, he divested her of the supportive material. Her sheer panties followed a heartbeat later.
“So damn beautiful.” He traced her lips with the tip of his index finger, then used the moistened digit to circle her nipple.
Long walnut hair smothered his pillow in flowing waves as she rocked her head from side to side. He wished he’d thought to have his housekeeper bring flowers, bury the bed in rose petals or set a bottle of champagne in a bucket on the nightstand.
Instead he reached into the drawer there for a condom and rolled it on before sinking over Belinda to steal a taste of the Bordeaux from her lips. She turned her head at the last second, evading his kiss. The steady pulse in her neck drew his focus. He played with the tender spot until the beat sped slightly. How could she be so calm when he feared he’d lose control and ravish her Tasmanian-devil style any second?
The glide of their bare chests had his cock eager when it settled against the soft skin at the apex of her thighs. She seemed cool as he blanketed her, infusing her with excess warmth from his overheated body.
He would have loved to make out with her, savoring their closeness, but he didn’t care to break her from whatever sensual place she’d gone to with her face angled, eyes shut. Magnificent. He nibbled her collarbone and rocked their pelvises together. The head of his cock poked at her entrance, their bodies aligned and well-fitted for each other.
Sam pushed the barest bit inside her pussy, monitoring her for any sign of objection. She gave none. Damn, she was tight. And not very wet. Why wouldn’t she look at him? “How’re you doing, darlin’?”
“Fine.” She didn’t disguise her wince as well as she might have thought.
“Not good enough.” He withdrew, winding a sensual trail down her neck, across her breasts, over her belly. Getting comfy, he snuggled between her thighs. They clamped around his shoulders, making him claustrophobic. He pressed his hands to the backs of her knees and spread her wide.
“Sam!” A gasp flew through her parted lips. “What are you doing?”
“I insist on making this as good for you as it will be for me,” he murmured between nuzzles of her neatly trimmed fuzz. A little prickly, like her. Nice.
“What if I’d rather you hurry and finish instead?”
He laughed before he realized she didn’t join in.
“What kind of losers have you slept with, Lin?” Sam dusted dozens of kisses over her mound. Her thighs quivered, then relaxed their death grip on his head. He breathed deep, hoping to catch a hint of her arousal. Like the stallions he’d seen on the farm back home, he loved the smell of his mate. All he detected was the cloying blast of her custom perfume.
Sam took his time admiring her trim body. First with his eyes, then his hands and finally his mouth.
The howl she unleashed when he latched on to her pussy scared ten years off his life. He reared back, staring up at her to gauge the problem. She must be the most sensitive woman he’d ever pleasured, and God knew there’d been plenty. “Did I hurt you?”
“Good. So good.” She purred and writhed as though she’d gone from zero to sixty faster than the Ferrari 458 Italia he’d eyed at the Park Avenue showroom last week.
Sam couldn’t help it. He plopped on his haunches between her legs, wrapped his arms around his stomach and cracked up. “You sound like one of my brother’s cheesy pornos.”
Uh oh. Not on the recommended list of things to say the first time you make love to your girlfriend and potential wife, the woman you intend to have children with. When he surrendered to sexual instinct it became more difficult to maintain his sophistication.
Belinda sputtered, “W-What did you say?”
“If you get any more tightly wound you’re going to shatter. Relax.” He massaged the soles of her feet, then her ankles and up her legs to her hips as he lowered himself once more.
“Why did you stop? It was soo good.”
“B. Quit it.” He couldn’t keep his mouth shut as he stared. “No woman of mine is going to settle for a fake fucking orgasm. Especially not one that bad. Jesus. How low is your opinion of me? I don’t need you to cheat for me in bed.”
She froze.
“Seriously.” He gathered her into the crook of his arm and started all over again. It wasn’t a hardship to worship her body. “No pressure. Let’s get to know one another like this. If it happens, it happens. If not…there’s always tomorrow. And the night after. And the night after. Just let me hold you. I’ll make you feel good. I promise.”
For the first time, maybe ever, she really looked at him. Deep into his eyes.
“Ah, yeah. Like that.” He smiled when she closed the small gap between them and took some initiative with a fierce, if brief, kiss.
“You really are something special, Samuel.” She cupped his jaw.
“Sam.”
“Hmm?” She broke the contact of their lips right when he would have burrowed deeper.
Less talking, dumbass. More kissing. Still, he couldn’t help himself. Couldn’t stand her screaming out the wrong thing when he managed to help her explode. “My name. It’s plain old Sam. Nothing fancy on my birth certificate.”
“Right. How could I have forgotten?” The glimmer of the woman he sensed deep inside her aloof exterior receded beneath her boardroom-bitch exoskeleton.
Fuck.
“But you can call me anything you like.” He smiled, then explored her frown. “I’ll do my best to make you happy, whatever it takes.”
Her pout morphed into a weak smile. “Really?”
“Yeah. Sure.” He imagined her requesting him to parade around in her thong. Okay, almost anything, he amended to himself.
“I’m glad you feel like that.” As though he’d unleashed a tiger, she pounced. She claimed his mouth and devoured his moan. Though he would have preferred to be on top, he didn’t argue when she straddled him.
Belinda planted her palms on his chest and ground her pussy over his sheathed cock in a sinful figure eight that rubbed them both into a frenzy. “Getting my way turns me on. You don’t mind, do you?”
Her eyes softened as she tucked her feet onto his thighs.
His hands flopped to the sides. “Hmm. A sexy, assertive woman wonders if I’m game for letting her ride me into oblivion. Do I mind? Not at all. Use me if that works for you.”
Of course, he should have realized,
she’d prefer to call the shots.
“Don’t mind if I do.” She lifted up, then aimed the head of his cock at her suddenly saturated opening. Her body accommodated his girth as she sank onto his shaft.
“Damn, B.” He moved without thinking, cupping her hips easily in his palms. “I can’t believe this is finally real. Me, you. You’re so fucking hot around me.”
She smacked his wrists. “Put your hands behind your head.”
“Yes, ma’am.” A chuckle escaped as he considered how different the night would be from his soft, romantic imaginings. He felt kind of lazy allowing her to do all the work, but what fool would complain about a stunning lady massaging his aching cock with well-coordinated squeezes of her pussy?
He stared at her world-class rack as she began to bounce in his lap. She ground onto him until her labia kissed his balls. She wriggled with rhythmic arcs of her ass that swirled her clit on his tense muscles.
“Shit, yes.” He couldn’t take his eyes off her.
Glorious and proud, she rode him harder and harder. A flush crept up her chest and neck as she zoned out and fixated on her pleasure for several minutes.
He couldn’t say when she refocused on him and noticed his gaze.
“Would you like to suck on my breasts, Sam?”
He had to bite his tongue to keep from begging like some pussy-whipped boy. A horrid vision of his future, spent at the end of her leash, had his dick wilting inside the woman he’d planned to build something with. Had he made a mistake?
Before he could second-guess his decision, Belinda tipped forward and smothered him with the cleavage she manufactured when she smooshed her boobs together. Ah, shit, he’d worry about long-term later. Much later.
His hips rose off the mattress, allowing him to fuck deep in counterpoint to her escalating lunges. A wet pop echoed off the high-ceilings of his bedroom when she rocked backward, stealing her nipple from his suckling mouth. Her fingers sought his thighs for leverage.
Sam bent his knees, planting his feet flat on the bed. He provided her with the perfect spot to grip, and she capitalized on the opportunity.
