by Wade, Dani
With a grin, he proceeded to give her everything he had. Not as a rock star, but as a man.
Slow deliberation revealed everything he’d been fantasizing about since the moment he’d seen her spandex-covered ass in his gym. Firm, full breasts topped with dusky-pink nipples tightened with anticipation. A sculpted Rubenesque body with a defined waist, a satisfying flare to her hips, and dark blonde curls between firm thighs. She shivered under his scrutiny.
She might worry about her size, but he’d know she worked out even if he hadn’t seen it. All that muscle made him imagine those legs contracting as she rode him, hard. His hands guiding her hips in a steady rhythm. All the—
But not tonight.
Leaning forward, he whispered, “Hold still.”
Starting at the top, he brushed the backs of his fingers along the picturesque landscape, returning to tantalize her nipples until she whimpered. His control cracked, urging him to give in. Stepping away, he met her gaze. “Undress me.”
Excitement flared in her eyes at his command. He would enjoy teaching her everything she needed to know to please him. But first he’d teach her just how much he could please her.
Her hands shook as she guided the hem of his T-shirt up over his abs and shoulders. No sooner had his head cleared than the garment disappeared to the darkened floor. The button of his cargo shorts resisted her fumbling for an extra second of torture before slipping free and showcasing just how naked he was underneath.
Her breath stopped for long seconds, along with her movements. His cock gave a jerk of approval, as if to scream oh yeah, look at me. Fire settled at the base of his spine.
Without urging, she pulled the shorts down, sinking to her knees to let him step out of them. Staring down at that blonde head gave him all kinds of ideas.
Next time.
With a firm hand, he guided her to the bed. Not trusting himself once he got inside her, he addressed the first order of business. Commit every inch of her delectable curves to his memory, so he could carry the scent of her, the feel of her with him when he left.
The firm muscles of her shoulders and arms. The ribs guarding panting lungs. The gentle slope of her stomach. The more rounded pitch of her hips. Pressing his thumbs right above her pubic bone, he smiled to hear the moan coming from those parted lips. The best kind of music. She lifted against him, then stiffened as if she’d done something wrong.
“Don’t stop, baby,” he murmured in the hushed intimacy of the room. “I like to see what you want. What you enjoy.”
She remained taut for long moments more, then whimpered. “What if it’s not—”
“Never, sweetheart.” He leaned forward to press a kiss right above his thumbs. She quivered under his lips, urging him to return. “I’m gonna like it. I’m gonna want it too.”
Again that lift of her hips, bringing attention to a place he couldn’t wait to visit. He let his breath warm her skin. Another tilt. This time he used his palms to press down, trapping her between him and the bed.
A mewl escaped her throat. Her body struggled in his grip. Still his breath teased her. Her legs fell open—now that’s what he wanted. Taylor, so aroused, so excited, that nothing mattered. Not her weight. Not her past. Only him and what he made her feel. So desperate for him that she couldn’t hide.
Circling his thumbs, he traveled lower, rewarding her surrender. Soft curls invited him in. Her own unique smell was stronger here, making his mouth water and his cock ache.
As he slipped lower, her thighs jerked, then clamped tightly closed. He raised his head to find her hands now closed over her breasts, her body protecting herself from his invasion. Her face turned toward the door.
What had spooked her?
Standing tall, he abandoned the siren playground for a moment, intent on setting their tone. His movement caught her attention. Turned her focus back to him. Reaching forward, he clasped each wrist like he had that first time he’d touched her and squeezed. Her back arched as she moaned. A betrayal of her need. Despite resistance, he drew the flesh covering flesh away from her body until she lay in unabashed glory against his navy bedspread.
He pressed her hands firmly against the bed. “Stay.” Her fists dug into the comforter, but as soon as his hands returned to her thighs she twitched as if to cover herself again.
“Don’t make me tie you down,” he warned.
The shift of fear on a face illuminated by moonlight had his gaze narrowing, but her hands returned to the position he’d shown her. Her body’s ambivalence was plainly written in the stiffness of her shoulders and arms, but her tits quivered, as did her thighs. She wanted it, but didn’t want to want it?
With a hand under each knee, he used his standing position to his advantage, lifting up and out to expose her completely. She whimpered, but the glistening flesh between her thighs spoke of deep hunger.
How could he not dive right in? He’d waited too long for this particular fantasy. A steady, forceful slide of his thumb over her hard clit and wet lips prompted the first moaning cry. Her juicy flesh had him breathing deep, subduing the urge to drive himself home. By the time he’d explored virgin territory and returned to torture the hard nub, she was practically screaming behind the hand she’d moved to hold her mouth closed.
He couldn’t let that slide, now could he? Crawling back over the top of her, he buried his face near her ear. “Taylor, did I tell you to move your hand?”
As if she’d just realized what she’d done, she jerked her hand back into position. Shuttering breaths disrupted her words. “No…no, Michael.”
“You stole something from me.”
She yanked her head up. “What?”
He growled, crowding closer to force her down. “You stole from me.” He brushed his lips across hers. “I want every moan, every cry. They’re mine.” He pulled back. “And you will give them to me. Understand?”
Without waiting for an answer, he proceeded to show her.
He once more brought his mouth to those quivering breasts. Starting at the outside, he nibbled wide, round circles around the flesh. Sometimes sinking hard enough to bring an edge of pain, sometimes whispering his tongue along silky skin. Always letting his lips and goatee brush against her…except where she wanted it the most.
This time, music filled the air. Moans, cries, whimpers. He could have sworn his ears were connected straight to his dick. Each sound made him throb, building the pressure in his balls.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her other hand lift toward him. He froze, growling his displeasure. Immediately the hand returned to the bed, clenching in the comforter as he knew she wanted to do to his hair. Not yet. He rewarded her by taking one ultrasensitive nipple in his mouth, giving it the same treatment as he had the flesh surrounding it.
Again her hips lifted, the soft hair of her pussy brushing against his abs. “Please, Michael,” she moaned, his name candy sweet on her lips.
“I know, baby,” he said. Reaching out, he brushed her hair back from her forehead. “You taste so good. You’ll come, I promise. When I’m ready for you to come.”
His hands moved back to her hip bones, anchoring her to the bed, pressing into the sensitive hollow where thighs met hips, forcing her away from him. Her cries flowed without end. Her body jerked, desperate to get closer. But he fed the fire by holding her still while he moved from one breast to the other, torturing her elongated nipples until his control cracked like glass under pressure.
“Touch me now, Taylor,” he said, needing to feel her hands on him.
Eagerly she squeezed along his arms, then trailed her nails down his chest.
He groaned. “Harder.”
This time she didn’t hold back. Marking his chest, then his back before digging in at his waist to urge his hips closer. He could no longer deny what they both wanted, needed.
Within seconds he had the condom on and her ankles on his shoulders. She would not deny him. Her whimper as he pressed into her sent a storm of electricity through
his body.
Her moisture only eased her tightness a little, her body retreating under his force slower than he’d expected. He should have known his shy girl hadn’t been with anyone lately. Compared to—No, he sure as hell wouldn’t bring his ex into what was happening between him and Taylor.
Finding her hard little nub with his thumbs, he massaged, groaning at the tiny spasms that tightened around his cock. Her cries shortened. Her hands grabbed and pulled at the comforter. His head fell back as her body started to engulf him. Pure feeling. Shifting her hips a little gave him an angle that pressed against the front of her passage. So tight. So hot. Finally, his pelvis met the wet flesh of her thighs.
Heaven and hell all wrapped into one unexpected package.
He held still for long moments, rubbing her clit, savoring the connection. So good. She twisted, her body demanding her due. Gathering what little control remained, he released her legs, then moved his body over hers, pinning her down at the wrist.
Her pussy tightened in one long, slow pull, making him question who exactly was in control. One second. Two. Finally he let himself go, pounding into her, each thrust so much pleasure it was pain. On the edge of his consciousness, he heard her cries break free. Louder. Stronger. She pulsed around him, over and over, until her body bowed up in ecstasy. He thrust hard, once, twice, his hands pulling her against him with a grip that would have hurt if they had noticed.
One more heartbeat, then his world exploded, leaving him shattered in the aftermath.
Chapter Nine
The insistent ring of a phone dragged Taylor from her satisfying sleep. Not the sleep of the innocent, if she remembered her dreams correctly. But drifting into dreamland was so enticing when a naked Michael Korvello waited instead of nightmares.
She patted around the bedside table for her cell phone, only to realize the house’s landline was ringing. Was it Michael? Was something wrong? He and the kids had left yesterday for Kentucky, so who else would be calling at one a.m.?
“Yes?” she asked, struggling to jump-start her sleepy brain.
“Um, hello,” a hushed male voice said. “I’m calling on behalf of Daniel Korvello.”
“What?” She sat upright, pushing her hair back from her face. “Who is this? Is Daniel all right?”
“Yes, ma’am. At least, I think so. But I need to talk to his brother.”
“He’s not here.”
“Oh.” A long pause ticked by until she wanted to yell at him to get on with it. “I really need his brother.”
“He’s not here. Now tell me what the hell is going on. Right. Now.”
Ten minutes later she was waving good-bye to the night security guard as she pulled out of the estate and headed into Atlanta. The voice on the other end of the line had explained he was a night manager in an Atlanta hotel. Responding to noise complaints, he’d gone into the room and found the singer passed out, clothes and booze everywhere, and some damage to the room.
Daniel had been alone.
Concerned about the obviously drunk singer, the manager had called the emergency number listed in Daniel’s cell phone. The house line. But Michael was too far away, so Taylor was heading down there to see what she could do before any reporters caught wind of the situation.
The manager—he said his name was Max—had gotten Daniel to respond, but he was drunker than Cooter Brown and the man was good enough not to want to leave him alone. Taylor told him she would hurry, and she’d sped into the night after dragging on a pair of jeans and a T-shirt.
She hadn’t had time to call Michael, though she probably should have. A shiver of awareness shot along her nerves despite her anxiety over Daniel. Michael would return the next evening, and she couldn’t decide if she wanted to pick up where they left off or lock herself into her room like a terrified teenager.
His control had been nothing like Bradley’s. He’d dominated her subtly, not grinding her body or self-esteem into dust. The things he’d insisted on doing had been about pleasing her. They had pushed her outside of her comfort zone but not too far. Exposing her, building her need, forcing her to express herself. He hadn’t ignored her needs and desires in favor of his own. Michael had taught her what a man in control was capable of making a woman feel.
The experience had been incredible.
Perversely, she wasn’t sure if she wanted to repeat it. She’d felt too much. The experience had left her raw, exposed. Now she feared Michael for a different reason—for what he could make her feel.
Could she risk letting him manipulate her body when it might lead him to her heart? She’d drifted off to sleep with him spooned against her back, safe and satisfied. Then woken early the next morning to rush around getting them all ready to go to the airport. Besides heated glances, Michael’s only indication that they’d been together had been a hard, sensual kiss after the kids were out the door. His whispered words, “When I get back, we’ll do it right,” had set her body on fire and her mind into a panic.
How much more “right” could she handle?
Pulling into the hotel parking lot gave Taylor a good reason to rein in her thoughts for the moment. Not eager to look conspicuous, she parked her car near the front door but in one of the few parking spaces instead of under the overhang. The well-lit lobby blinded her for a moment as she entered, so she paused to get her bearings.
As a moderately high-end hotel, it was well-appointed, with casual seating and colorful artwork. Oddly enough, there were a few other people milling around—a group of late-night partiers, a middle-aged man helping himself to a complimentary cookie, and a younger man talking to a staff member at the concierge desk.
A sweep of the registration desk revealed a couple other employees. No manager, but an assistant manager stood on the edge of the group. Taylor gave her a small smile.
“Hi, I’m Taylor Jackson. I’m looking for Max.”
“Yes, Taylor. He told us you would be coming,” she said with a professional smile. As she spoke, her gaze flicked sideways to subtly indicate a man several feet away at the concierge desk. Not turning to look, Taylor cocked her head to catch a bit of the conversation.
“Come on, man. You can tell me. I heard he came in late. You couldn’t have missed Daniel Korvello…”
Yikes. Was he a reporter? The thud of her heart picked up speed, nerves on edge. She didn’t want to mess this up. While she might not know him well, Daniel had been nothing but nice since she’d moved onto the Korvello estate. And she knew more than most how hard friends were to come by.
Whoever it was, the assistant manager was as intent on avoiding him as Taylor was. She directed Taylor toward a set of double doors just past the elevators. “I’ll call Max to meet you on your way,” she said. The doors slid closed without the man looking in her direction, thank goodness.
Continuing down the corridor, she saw a man in a maroon vest speeding her way. She tensed but then spotted his manager’s tag with relief. He looked slightly young to be in charge, his stocky build topped with full cheeks and longer-than-businesslike hair. His earnest brown eyes reminded her of a puppy she’d had as a kid. Max nevertheless wore a suit and turned a professionally assessing eye on her approach.
“Hi,” she said, keeping her voice low. “I’m Taylor Jackson.”
Max gave a small, welcoming smile. “Yes, Miss Taylor. Let me show you to the room.”
The pounding in Taylor’s chest eased a touch, but not nearly enough. “Is Daniel okay? Do you think he needs a doctor?”
“Yes and no,” Max said as she followed him around a corner. “I’m sorry for the sneaky switch at the desk, but I didn’t want the reporter to think anything was up around here.”
“Couldn’t you just tell him to leave?”
“That would be like admitting guilt,” Max said, a grimace twisting the boyish roundness of his face. “He hangs out with Roberto on the night shift a couple times a week. Telling him to leave would have handed Daniel to him on a platter.”
His steps slow
ed. “We encourage the contacts because it’s free publicity for the hotel. But that’s not what I wanted for Daniel.”
He pulled out a key card but fiddled with it for a moment. “How well do you know Daniel Korvello?” he asked.
Taylor narrowed her gaze on him, suddenly suspicious that he was pumping her for information. “We’re not close or anything. I’ve worked for the family for a couple of months. Why?”
His frown wasn’t reassuring, but he swiped the card without further hesitation. “Brace yourself.”
His words didn’t prepare her for the chaos when she walked through the door. Clothes littered the carpet. A woman’s skirt, some sequined tops, and several pairs of heels. A pair of men’s black denim jeans and a white T-shirt. A comforter lay pooled at the end of the bed, and various decorative pillows were scattered throughout the room. Along one side of the bed lay a mostly naked Daniel. With a gasp, Taylor let her gaze skitter away from the boxer briefs cupping his ass and zeroed in on the back of his head. Which was all she could see with him lying on his stomach.
Skirting the king-size bed, she knelt on the opposite side and brushed the shaggy blond hair back from Daniel’s face with trembling fingers. “Daniel,” she prompted when he didn’t move. “Daniel, wake up.”
What if something was really wrong?
Further prompting only got her a crack of his eyelids before they closed again, but it was enough to tell her he wasn’t in a coma of some kind. Maybe they could get by without a hospital. She looked at Max. “How long has he been like this?”
“Since I came in about two hours ago. The neighbors complained about the noise, so I came to check it out.”
“What kind of noise?”
Max’s gaze flicked to a spot behind her. “Glass shattering.”
Turning in that direction, Taylor spotted an open door. A few quick strides had her in the doorway. Her throat tightened when she flicked the light on.
“Careful,” Max said from behind her.
As well she should be. Someone, or something, had shattered one of the gilt-framed mirrors above the double sinks, leaving shiny shards littering the counter and floor like deadly sparkling crystals. “Oh my gosh. I’m so sorry,” she breathed.
