by Vonnie Davis
The press straggled out and the dinner Gabe had previously ordered was brought in for management and their guests. Webb automatically ate what was put in front of him, memories of Mia Rose dragging him down. God, she’d been through so much misery.
So had Arial. Having her spineless husband, ex-husband now, walk out on her and Mia Rose when they needed him most had been a double blow. Webb had learned then the power of women, for she kept forging ahead, working, and taking care of Mia Rose. It wasn’t until after the funeral that Arial had collapsed. Their momma had moved in with her for a month to nurse her back to a semblance of herself.
He was glad he’d called her today. It was good to hear the strength back in Arial’s voice. Getting the promotion she’d worked so hard for had her damn near giddy. She was dating, finally. There was some hope in her life, and damn, she deserved every morsel of it.
While he ate, he nodded as people spoke and replied in monosyllabic words. He really could use a drink. As if Cooper had read his mind, he set a squat tumbler of golden liquid in front of Webb.
“From Gabe,” he whispered. “Boss said the way you looked after talking about your niece and all, you needed this. One is all you can have, but he doesn’t like how pale you are.”
Webb’s fingers wrapped around the thick glass as if it were a lifeline. “Tell him, I said thanks. I sure as hell need this.” His hand shook as he brought the drink to his lips and took a gulp.
Cooper pulled two plastic keycards from his coat pocket. “Boss gave me these, too, for tomorrow night. Passes to a private club he holds considerable interest in. He wants you to have one good night before your celibacy begins.” Webb looked from the black cards with one word in gold cursive writing to Cooper. “I told you he looks after his own, and for some reason he’s added you to his short list of people to take care of.” His driver slipped the cards back in his jacket.
“How the boss finds out stuff, I’ll never know. Wouldn’t have taken you for a Dom.”
“We don’t make it a habit of having it tattooed to our foreheads.” Webb nailed Cooper with a hard glare. Just how had Dare found out? Another swallow of whiskey seared a mellow burn on its journey down his throat.
“I’ve got my tattoo right above my cock,” Coop smirked. “The elite club’s name is Expectations. Did you pack your leathers?”
Webb sipped more single malt hoping it would obliterate the image of the placement of Cooper’s damn tattoo. “My leathers? I never leave home without ʼem.” He glanced over at Gabe and raised his whiskey glass in salute. Gabe’s head inclined slightly. He didn’t smile. From what Webb had heard, only the billionaire’s wife and daughter made him smile.
“What time are we going tomorrow?” Webb scrutinized Cooper. He hadn’t taken him for a Dominant either, but then again, he’d been wrapped up in his own misery. Gracie’s image floated across his mental sky—and sparked his lust.
“Nine, man. Pack your stuff. We’ll change there.” Coop stalked off, his strut sure and prevailing. Maybe Webb hadn’t paid enough attention to the man. The signs, the natural demeanor were evident, but not profound.
As soon as he could politely get away, once management was through telling him how pleased they were with his performance, he stood. His destination was Gracie’s room. He wanted to thank her for helping him tonight. Passing through the club’s bar, a tall beautiful woman caught his attention.
Black hair shimmered under the lights, like black satin as it shifted when she nodded or leaned her head back to laugh. Webb halted. Gracie was an exquisite woman to watch. Her hands moved with expression when she talked. Her body at a regal stance, she joked with several other women, probably romance writers. He’d have to get some of Gracie’s books and read them on his iPad.
He wove his way through the circular tables to where she stood. For now, he needed to kiss the hummingbird tattoo on her shoulder blade. No logical reason why, he just did.
Talking stopped in her group as he approached and the tension in her posture indicated she sensed his presence. He stood behind her and slowly, possessively slid his palms down her arms and covered her hands before moving them to her waist. “Gracie,” he whispered on a moan as he leaned to press his lips to her pretty inked body art.
She shivered in his arms and he relished her response. He wanted more. For the first time in his life, he wanted his own submissive not one he picked up at some club. His own. A sub no one else dared touch. Damn, he wanted to go all caveman, toss her over his shoulder, and carry her back to his hotel room.
He wouldn’t though. Bad boy Mohanty was turning a new leaf. That didn’t mean when he got her alone, he wouldn’t dominate and please her any way she wanted. In public though, he’d behave. So, he broke contact and stepped back.
“Ladies, sorry to interrupt your conversation. I’m a sucker for tattoos and this lovely lady has one on her back. See, how pretty it is?” He grabbed Gracie’s shoulders and pivoted her to show off her ink. A firestorm of anger blasted from her eyes and damn near scorched his whiskered scruff.
Aw hell, she’s pissed.
One of her friends plopped onto a nearby bar stool and stuck out her foot. “I’ve got a tat across my instep. Kiss it!”
His gaze swept to Gracie, who had her arms crossed. “Why, yes, you must kiss Jennifer’s foot. For fairness sake, and all that.”
So he leaned over, read the scripture verse Jennifer had tattooed on her foot, and prayed a lightning bolt wouldn’t hit him when he kissed it. He straightened, relieved that was over, when another woman elbowed him. She had the top to her dress jerked down to display a large mound of breast and a heart tattoo with a man’s name—Tyrell—written across it.
“Kiss it, you good looking hunk of manhood, you,” she purred.
Webb shook his head. “I don’t think Tyrell would approve.”
“Oh, he will when I call him later to tell him how horny I am and we have phone sex. Hummm, Daddy Studly will be right pleased, so he will.”
“Well, hell, if it helps two married people be happier.” He hastily kissed the red heart and the woman fanned herself.
He was pleased to see the last lady Gracie was talking to wasn’t holding any body parts in front of him. Then she turned and pulled down her pants to reveal a tattoo on her ass. He did a quick glance around the area and all eyes were on him. Damn, he’d created a scene again. He kissed his fingertips and placed them on her skin and made a sizzling sound, shaking his hand as if it had been burnt. “I knew that would be too hot for my lips.”
The strange butt lady laughed and hugged him.
He turned to say something to Gracie and she was gone.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Gracie rushed to beat the elevator doors as they started to close. The car was almost full of other writers and the noise of their excitement over the conference. This was the first one she’d attended, but she’d missed so much already.
She’d been signed with smaller publishers and hoped securing an agent would help her make the leap to larger ones. Other writers were advancing their careers on their own. Who knew which was the best way to go? She hadn’t a clue.
What she did know, was that her meeting with Dondi Gable tomorrow would be uncomfortable since she’d witnessed the foreplay scene on the elevator. Her temper spiked. Webb. He just went through life doing whatever he damn well pleased.
Like interrupting her conversation with three up and coming authors by slowly caressing her arms, making her long to lean into his warmth. Then he’d kissed her inked hummingbird before kissing the other women’s tattoos. Something he obviously enjoyed doing. Leaving her unsettled as hell. She was not jealous, dammit. She had no holds on him.
So what if she was wearing a dress he’d bought, her skin soothed and scented by the perfume and lotion he’d ordered, and her one breast sporting a hickey, for God’s sake. Yes, they’d had several rounds of phenomenal sex, but it was casual and meant nothing. Didn’t she write about such encounters?
The
elevator stopped again. Two laughing women stepped on.
“So, what happened next?” The gray-haired woman wearing red glasses was wide eyed.
“Well…the woman wrapped her legs around his waist and he backed her to one of the walls of the elevator.”
Red-glasses-lady covered her mouth with a hand. “No! In front of everyone?”
The curly blonde nodded. “So I’ve been told.” She leaned her head toward her gossip companion, but didn’t lower her voice. “The man stuck his finger under her thong and brought it to the front and bragged about how wet she was for him.”
Gracie looked for a hole in the elevator floor to disappear through. Dammit, she was going to be the laughing stock of the whole convention. If she wasn’t already.
A third woman chimed in. “I heard he pulled his ‘thang’ out before they got off the elevator…and it was ginormous!”
Oh for Pete’s sake! Wasn’t the truth bad enough? They had to go and exaggerate it? Not his size, but that he’d pulled his cock out in the elevator. Gracie glanced at the numbers, two more floors to go. When the doors opened, she squeezed through and placed her hand on the door-open button, holding it in.
She inhaled and gathered courage before turning around and facing the women.
“You know, if you’re going to be telling stories about an event you didn’t witness, you should at least get all your facts straight.” The elevator went silent, except for a few women who sucked air. “Yes, he slipped his finger under my thong and ran it through my sex, my very wet sex. But he did not open his fly and uncage the man-beast until we got inside his suite.”
Her narrowed-eyed gaze pinned the red-glasses lady and the curly blonde. “You know, the two of you should be characters in a book. The loose-lipped-ladies of East Bumfuck.”
With her head held high, she swayed her ass like any good hussy on the way to her room and to the man leaning a shoulder against her door.
“Why is everyone on the elevator leaning out to watch you?” Webb’s gaze ricocheted from her to the elevator and back.
She shot him a scowl. “Because conference gossip has me one step above a cheap whore after our interlude on the elevator earlier this evening and those women are waiting to see if you’ll uncage your man-beast as soon as you see me.”
His hands fisted on his hips. “My what?” He pivoted to get another look at the elevator, its doors being held open and several pair of eyes fixated on them. “Did they call you names? Insinuate stuff?” He puffed up like a rooster ready to protect the hen house. “I’ll be right back.” He tramped toward the elevator, his broad shoulders bunched in aggravation, long muscular legs looking mighty fine in that tailored suit.
Oh dear God, he was going to make a scene. Close the elevator doors, ladies, and make a run for it. Macho male is in a snit.
Why was he upset anyway? It wasn’t as if she meant anything to him.
The elevator doors closed and Webb stopped. He stood as if frozen to the expensive carpet and rolled his shoulders before pivoting back in her direction. “I think I scared them off. Tell me again what they said to upset you?”
“No. You can’t do anything about it. Our behavior on the elevator earlier was like two animals in heat. We weren’t acting like rational adults. I mean, it makes a good scene for a book, but not real life.” She exhaled a long sigh. “And since I left my temper get the best of me a few minutes ago and announced I didn’t appreciate being the object of their joke, I have no one to blame but myself and my big mouth.”
Inserting her key card, she shook her head, “I’m so used to expressing feelings to my team, I’ve lost most of what little filter I had. Now if something charges through my mind, it’s marching out my mouth, too.”
“So, the romance writers were all worked up over a little impromptu encounter?” Webb followed her into the room as if he’d been invited, which he hadn’t. “Well, fuck ʼem, if they can’t take a joke. No one says anything to insult my woman. What happens between us is between us.”
She whirled on him. “But don’t you see? There is no us!”
His eyes narrowed and a muscle ticked in his jaw.
Hang on. Mood shift alert!
Large hands seized her waist, boosting her off the floor and backing them up to the door. A muscled thigh slipped between hers. Warm lips trailed a path from behind her ear to her shoulder and her breathing quickened. The male cologne he wore that always affected her, wove a sexual spell.
“No us? Oh, angel, you’re mistaken. I’m feeling this connection. Aren’t you?” His voice had lowered and affected her in an unwanted manner.
“You really are a man who enjoys doing things your way, aren’t you? I can totally see how you earned that bad boy title.” Her one foot was on the floor now. His palm curved around her other leg as he wrapped it over his hip and skimmed fingertips from her knee to the globe of her ass. She nipped his neck in response.
“Did I give you permission to do that?” His voice was dominant, demanding, dogmatic.
Don’t tell me the Dom has come out to play.
“I don’t recall giving you permission to do the things you’ve done to me,” she countered. Although she’d loved every one of them and adored the magic he was playing over her skin right now with his lips and teeth and fingertips.
He pulled away, piercing her gaze with his. “It makes sense that you write erotic. You do respond to a Dom’s touch. Beneath your controlled exterior is a submissive, begging for a master. That’s why sex between us is so fucking phenomenal.”
She shook her head violently, unable to voice the lie—because she did enjoy being submissive.
“No lies, Gracie. You need to think about things. Consider us and how good it could be. Yes, it would be a long-distance relationship once my celibacy period is over. But with our schedules, we could make it work. Airplanes fly every day.”
“No,” she whispered, afraid of her own feelings, her own needs. Her stomach rumbled, reminding her she hadn’t eaten since breakfast, nor had she taken her antibiotics. She opened the room service menu. “I’m going to order in a late dinner. Want something?”
Webb smiled. “Yes. You.” He sighed when she raised her eyebrows. “I’ll take a bottle of sparkling water and a chocolate dessert. Something creamy. See if they have pudding.”
While she ate her cheeseburger, he helped himself to her fries. “So tell me, coach, were you really on the Olympic basketball team?”
She nodded around a bite of her sandwich. “Bench warmer, mostly. I wasn’t good enough for first string. Sure, I was All-American twice when I played for UCON, but almost all the players had fought for that achievement.” She chewed and swallowed. “If we were ahead, I got to play the final two minutes. But I always managed to make two or three baskets.” She drank her iced sparkling water and remembered her medicine.
The heat of his gaze seemed to follow her as she rummaged in her red purse. “So, you scored in every Olympic game you played? Impressive.”
She palmed five pills and washed them down when she sat. “Thanks. Just the experience of it all is a cherished memory.”
“Are you sick, Gracie? What’s up with so many pills?”
Nosy man. “I’m just getting over a serious sinus infection. It really knocked me for a loop. Thus two types of antibiotics—rifampin and amoxicillin—which have to be taken with food because of my sensitive stomach. I forgot the doses I was to have earlier so I had to swallow two of each just now. The fifth was my birth control pill. Any other personal information you’d like to know?”
“Yes, in fact there is.” He smiled and leaned back in the chair, pointing to his dessert. “How this chocolate mousse and whipped cream will taste between your folds.”
She choked on her next sip of water and her clit pulsed. “Yo…you wouldn’t dare!”
CHAPTER NINE
Gracie’s dark eyes widened when he stooped in front of her and unbuckled the gold fuck-me heels. “Go ahead and eat, sweetheart. I’ll give y
ou a foot massage while you do.” He stood once he had her shoes off and looked around. “Where’s your body lotion?”
“On my nightstand. Webb, what are you up to?”
“Just showing you how this Dom takes care of his submissive. We all have things we like to do. I like to pamper with massages and cuddling, lots of cuddling. Flowers and jewelry. Mostly when it’s unexpected.” Her Touch of Pink body lotion in hand, he pulled his chair in front of hers so their knees touched.
“Put your feet on my thighs. Let me help you relax from a rough day while you eat your chocolate cheesecake.” He opened his mouth and pointed.
She held the plate to her chest in a protective embrace. “You’re not getting any.” She jabbed the air near his bowl of mousse. “Eat your own chocolate.”
“I never took you for a selfish person, Gracie Sweetlips Luera.”
A grunt sounded around a spoonful of cheesecake. “Compliments will get you nowhere, Webb Knobby-knees Mohanty.”
Damn, she was cute.
He worked the lotion into and between her toes. “Are you dating anyone? Is it serious? Who do I have to knock down to get to you?” His fingers moved on to the pads of her feet and she moaned.
“No one. I pulled away from dating several months ago.”
“You’re in need of a man who can control you in the bedroom.”
Her foot and leg tensed. “No. I need to be free. Alone. I have an addiction I need to overcome.”
His fingers stilled. An addiction? Like cocaine or heroine? “What were you hooked on?”
Her dark-eyed gaze roamed over his face for a minute. “Bad boys. I always seem to find men who will hurt me in one way or another. Boss me around. Belittle me, which is painfully bizarre. My mother went for men like that and I swore I never would.” Forking fingers through her long tresses, she lifted them from her neck.
“Yet, in the end, what kind of men turn me on? The same effing kind that sucked Mom in. Once I realized I had the same weakness, I’ve done everything I can to kick the looser habit. I’ve stayed away from men. Maybe one day, I’ll meet a nice guy who sparks my interest and finds me wonderful just the way I am. Until then, I’m going through life by myself.”
