by Lara Adrian
“Nick.” His name shudders out of me on a ragged gasp. It’s all I can do to remain standing as he licks and sucks and tongues my ass. I’m squirming helplessly, my muscles quivering from the arches of my spread feet to the tendons of my fingers clutched for dear life to the terrace railing.
My orgasm builds swiftly as he gathers me closer to his mouth and greedily feasts on me. When his fingers slide into my wetness to stroke my tender flesh, his thumb rolling over my clit in a demanding tempo, I can’t hold back my pleasured cry. My spine arcs, and a spasm shakes me. And suddenly I’m coming harder than I ever have, sensation pouring over me, racking me to the core.
His teeth nip my ass hard, spiking the last aftershocks of my release into the stratosphere. I feel him shift behind me. I hear the metallic jangle of his belt as he unbuckles it, followed by the urgent rasp of his zipper. Foil crinkles, then rips as he tears open a condom packet.
His hands are hot on my bare pelvis, his fingers like iron as he yanks my ass toward him. His shaft is hard and thick against the cleft of my body, and my sex responds with renewed need. I whimper impatiently, tilting my hips to receive him.
I want to cry for mercy, dammit. I want to scream for him to drive home to the hilt. Instead, I clamp my teeth down so hard on my lower lip that I taste blood. Just when I think I can’t possibly take another second of this torment, Nick’s cock slides between my legs.
“Forget the punishment. I need to fuck you.” He slips one hand between us, seating the blunt head of his penis at my body’s entrance. “Hang on now, baby. Don’t you let go.”
He rams into me with a thrust that has me seeing stars behind my closed eyelids. There is no gentleness to his rhythm, only need. Hot and fast and slick and raw. The pleasure and pain is so intense, so exquisitely entwined, it nearly makes me weep.
And each savage pound of his body drives me closer to the steep fall below. The railing is secure, solid as steel, but I can’t deny my fear as my shoulders and chest drape over it, fully at Nick’s mercy. My breath gusts out of me in shaky gasps and blood rushes to my lowered head, my body rocking hard against the low wall as I absorb the impact of his possessive, dominating thrusts.
He’s taking me someplace tonight that I’ve never been. Someplace exhilarating and intense, where adrenaline is fuel to pleasure and punishment is its own sweet reward.
And I can’t get enough.
I grasp the railing like he told me to do, but in spite of his command I can feel that it’s really his firm hold on my hips that’s keeping me tethered. In spite of the danger he may one day pose to my heart, his strong hands are the ones keeping me safe now. It is his control that’s giving me the freedom to feel this intense pleasure, this ecstasy that’s made all the more explosive because of the fear, because of the risk.
As much as I crave this wildness, every clash of our bodies tells me that he craves it too, that he is as ruled as I am by this passion that exists between us.
He snarls with it now, hammering hard and furious.
Desperate for my own release again, I widen my stance and cant my hips to take him deeper, and the leash he holds on his control snaps. As he comes, he utters my name like a curse, one hand leaving my hip to twist in the length of my thrashing ponytail as his thrusts go deeper. As if he can’t get far enough inside me.
His climax trips my own. I splinter apart on a pleasured scream.
And when my hands start to give out from the blissful bonelessness of my spent body, Nick’s arms wrap solidly around me. He pulls me back from the edge and turns me around in his embrace, his eyes tender on me but dark with erotic intent. He scoops me up into his arms, then carries me back into the penthouse and to his waiting bed inside.
Chapter 28
Sunrise, as promised, is nothing short of spectacular from Nick’s penthouse terrace. While he’s on a call with a colleague in London, I wander outside with my cell phone to snap some photos of nature’s glorious pastel light show. My work may not be worthy of Nick’s gallery—a fact that stings more than I care to admit—but I want to remember these colors for the next time I paint. On a whim, I take another shot, one that also captures a pretty white sailboat cruising about a mile out from shore.
Recalling now my promise to touch base with Tasha, I select one of my new photos and text it to her.
Sorry I didn’t call yesterday, but this happened.
Here with Nick. All good.
Her reply buzzes back almost instantly. Are those friggin palm trees, bitch?! I really need to rethink this friendship with you...
I laugh and send a smiley face. Love you too. Be in touch when I can.
Glad you’re all right, she texts back. Call me soon! P.S. Work sucks even worse without you!
I can’t believe it was only yesterday that I walked out of Vendange. Less than twenty-four hours with Nick on this fantasy getaway makes Joel and the restaurant seem like a distant dream.
All the rest of my problems seem far off, too, held at bay by the pleasure Nick has given me and by the feeling of safety I know when I am in his arms. It’s not something I’ve had with anyone else—this sense that I am truly protected and secure.
That I am sheltered from everything. Even my past.
Hidden away up here with Nick in his paradise in the clouds, I can almost believe that nothing bad can touch me.
Only an illusion, I know. Right now, I am too content to care about reality.
As I take in the awe-inspiring view, I snuggle deeper into the white bathrobe Nick gave me to wear when I stepped out of the shower with him a few minutes ago. The thick cotton terrycloth carries his scent. The indescribable blend of clean, masculine skin and spicy sensuality has become my favorite drug, arousing everything female in me and stirring a deep possessiveness I cannot deny. Crossing my arms over my breasts, I tilt my chin down to nestle my nose into the plush lapel and I inhale slowly, savoring this sensory reminder of him.
As beautiful as this morning is, I don’t want to let go of the night we shared. I don’t want to go back to New York, where everything Nick has whisked me away from still awaits.
Including the many lies I’ll have to explain to him.
“I thought you’d be dressed by now.”
At the sound of his voice, I glance over my shoulder and see him walking up behind me in nothing but a large white towel fastened around his hips. My mouth waters as I watch him moving with predatory grace across the terrace. I’ve had my lips and tongue all over every inch of that tan, muscular body, and just the sight of Nick striding toward me now makes me hungry to do it again.
I smile, unable to keep the joy off my face. “I can get dressed anytime. I don’t know when I’ll have another chance to see the sun come up from such an amazing vantage point.”
“Glad to know you have your priorities straight. Clothing is highly overrated anyway.” He grins, drawing up beside me and leaning his hip against the railing. “After last night, I doubt I’ll ever be able to stand out here again without getting a raging hard-on.”
As evidence of that fact, I can’t help noticing how enticingly his towel is bulging at his groin. He has no shame, of course, standing there half-naked and looking hot enough to melt me on the spot. My sex responds with a tingling surge of wet heat, spreading flame into my limbs and beading my nipples against the soft fabric of the robe.
I’m sure Nick sees my reaction. He’s become attuned to my body’s needs even more than I am myself. Blue eyes darkening, he reaches out and takes the tail end of the robe’s long sash, pulling me against him. I don’t fight it. More than anything, I want to feel his hands on me again. I want to feel him inside me now, again . . . for as long as I possibly can.
He kisses me, wrapping his arms around my back. “Have you decided what you’d like to do today?”
“I can think of a few things.”
His dark brows wing up with the slow curve of his lips. “Oh, trust me, Ms. Ross, so can I. And we will, I promise.” His lips brush mine again, e
nding with a deliberate nip that makes me gasp. “Don’t think I’ve forgotten that I still owe you some form of punishment.”
“If last night was any indication, I can hardly wait for more.”
He chuckles at my challenge and the hands clasped loosely at my back slide down to squeeze my ass. He draws my pelvis against the now massive ridge of his erection. “Feeling daring, are you?”
“I can’t help it. You’re a very bad influence, Mr. Baine. I’m a shameless harlot around you.”
“Shameless happens to be my favorite kind of harlot,” he growls as he kisses me again, grinding his cock against me in a hard demand that fires up all of my nerve endings. I moan at the arousing feel of him, already half-drunk with desire. He tears his mouth away from mine on a ragged curse. “Jesus, what you do to me. You get me so damn turned on, I think I could fuck you for weeks without coming up for breath.”
I sigh with pleasure at the very idea. “Mmm, sounds good to me.”
His hands slip inside my robe. I drop my head back on a soft cry as his fingers trace up my rib cage, then begin to caress my naked breasts. My thighs are straddling his leg, and I can’t resist moving against him, my sex wet with arousal and aching for contact. Nick doesn’t keep me waiting for long. One hand skims down my body and into my swollen cleft. He delves between my folds, stroking the hard bud of my clit before penetrating me with his finger.
“Oh, God.” My breath is rushing in and out of my lungs as he thrusts and withdraws, driving me mad with rising need. “Nick, that feels so good.”
His eyes deepen to a stormy blue as he watches me writhe and squirm on his hand. When he speaks, his voice is rough as gravel. “Now who’s the bad influence, Ms. Ross? Here I was planning to take you out for coffee and a nice breakfast before I made you come again today.”
I laugh and shake my head. “Coffee and breakfast later. Right now, I just want you to fuck me.”
“Shameless and demanding,” he replies, lowering his head to claim my mouth in a deep, dominatingly possessive kiss. Then he withdraws his fingers from inside me and gives my clit a light pinch. “Get your sweet ass in my bed, Ms. Ross. Unless you want me to take you right here in broad daylight.”
~ ~ ~
We don’t make it out of Nick’s apartment to look for breakfast until sometime after ten. I would be happy spending the entire day in his bed, but, unfortunately, our empty stomachs refuse to be ignored. While I have to admit I was looking forward to another of his amazing home-cooked breakfasts, I can hardly be disappointed when I see the cheery waterfront cafe he’s taking me to in Coconut Grove.
Overlooking a marina filled with sleek megayachts and tall-masted sailboats of all sizes, the outdoor restaurant is filled with a mix of people. Some drip with jewelry and logoed resort wear, while others are dressed in the tourist-casual staples of cargo shorts and T-shirts. Nick and I fall somewhere in the middle. He looks laid-back but unmistakably affluent in navy Bermuda shorts, deck shoes, and a white polo shirt.
As for me, I’m feeling feminine and pretty on his arm in my sleeveless, sky-blue linen wrap dress and flat sandals—my entire outfit high-end designer label, compliments of the Dominic Baine fantasy getaway collection. I’ve never had such fine, expensive clothes, but I know the heads turning in my direction are not so much about the way I’m dressed as they are about the man I’m with. The people here may not recognize him for the business titan he is, but I’ve witnessed more than once how Nick’s presence commands attention wherever he goes.
It’s impossible to ignore the hungered looks of more than a few of the other women who watch him now, nor their thin, envious glances that slide my way as an afterthought. As if he senses my anxiety, Nick’s palm comes to rest possessively at my lower back as we move through the restaurant with the hostess in front of us.
We’re shown to a table near the perimeter of the restaurant where thick nautical ropes section off the dining area from the walkway leading out to the docks. Seagulls glide over the boats, their cries mingling with the buzz of conversations around us.
Nick and I settle in and place our orders, then soon enjoy fresh fruit plates and light-as-air crepes, all served under a cloudless, sunny sky that couldn’t be more perfect. Even though the place is busy with boaters coming and going, it feels incredibly intimate being seated across from him, having breakfast at our thatch umbrella-covered table.
Somewhere along the way these past several weeks, it’s begun to feel natural and comfortable to be with him no matter where we are. It feels safe to be with him.
It feels . . . right.
That realization alone should fire off all kinds of warning bells inside me. Instead, it fills me with a joy that’s been missing from my life for so long, I’m astonished that it might truly be real.
Nick catches me smiling as I sip my coffee. “What are you thinking about?”
I shrug with the intent to evade the question, but it blurts off my tongue anyway. “I’m thinking that I’m happy.” I swallow, caught up in the oceanic blue of his gaze. “I haven’t been happy like this in a really long time. Maybe never.”
He reaches across the table for my hand and brings my fingers to his lips for a tender kiss. “Someday, Avery, you’re going to tell me why that is.”
He says it as if it will be my choice, but there is an unspoken demand in the intensity of his studying gaze. A shot of panic races through me at the thought. I can’t tell him more, no matter how far things end up going between us. There are some things he can’t ever know.
Aside from the lies I’ve told him about my personal life, the secrets I’m keeping about my past will make him either pity me or despise me. I couldn’t bear to see either of those things in his eyes. It’s hard enough seeing the question in his eyes now, as my silence lengthens.
To my relief, our waitress chooses this moment to come over and ask if we’d like anything else. The moment broken, I tuck my hands in my lap and decline her offer of more coffee. After our plates are cleared away and Nick has sent her for the check, I attempt to steer us toward safer conversation.
“Some of these boats are really incredible, aren’t they?”
I can see that he suspects my dodge, but he indulges me with a nod of agreement. I gesture to a blocky, gunmetal gray beast of a speedboat that’s just motoring in to dock. “Check that one out. It looks like something a James Bond villain would own.”
Nick chuckles when I wrinkle my nose. “You don’t like it?”
“It’s all right. Call me old-fashioned, but I like the sailboats best.”
His brows rise. “A woman after my own heart.”
His easy smile is devastating and his casual remark makes the air seem a little warmer, a little more electric. I take a sip of my coffee and try to pretend he’s not turning me on just by sitting across the table from me. “So, you like to sail, Nick?”
“I’ve puttered around from time to time,” he says. “When’s the last time you were out on the water?”
I wave my hand dismissively. “Oh, a long time ago. And never on anything like these boats. My grandpa had a Sunfish on the lake where they used to live. He’d take me out on that when I was little, and taught me a bit about sailing.”
“Sounds like a good time.”
I nod. “It was. Sometimes he’d let me help turn the sail. Mostly I just liked being out on the boat with him.” I release a slow sigh, reflecting on the time when things were different for me back home. When things were good. “It’s been a long time since I thought about those days.”
“Your grandfather doesn’t sail anymore?”
“He died when I was in my teens.” I could leave it at that, and probably should. But the wound is still fresh even after all this time and the words leak out of me in a quiet voice. “He’d been drinking late one night and made the mistake of getting in his car. He hit a tree on one of the back roads by the lake. Fortunately, no one was with him or on the road when he had the accident.”
“Jesus.”
Nick’s face grows solemn as I speak, almost stern. “I’m sorry you had to lose him like that.”
“It was a hard blow for all of my family. One of many,” I admit, knowing I can’t go any further with this memory than I already have.
I can’t tell Nick that my grandfather’s alcoholism came on the heels of losing his cherished daughter to the Pennsylvania prison system on a life sentence for murder. I can’t tell him that after my mother was convicted and my grandpa was dead, the only person I had left was my grandmother—a woman whom I know wanted to care for me, but couldn’t because of her sorrow for the daughter she’d been forced to watch be taken away.
I can’t tell him about the deeper secrets that have been eating away at my soul for nearly a decade. Secrets that are like poison, eroding me from within the longer I keep them, but certain to destroy me if I ever let them out.
Our server comes to my rescue again, bringing our check and presenting it to Nick with a smile that seems less about winning a big tip than catching his eye. If he notices the attractive girl’s attention, he handles it with the same cool confidence that he handles everything else that comes his way.
Discreetly placing a large bill inside the check wallet, he hands it back and politely tells her to keep the change.
“Want to take a walk?” he asks me, training the full measure of his smile on me alone.
“I’d love to.”
We head out onto the boardwalk and begin a leisurely stroll along the docks to look at the rows of flashy, large-engined speedboats with groan-inducing names like Pier Pressure and Liquid Assets and Feelin’ Nauti. A few minutes into our tour of the marina, I spot the futuristic looking gray yacht from earlier. When I snort out loud, Nick turns a curious glance at me.
“What’d I tell you?” I gesture to the name emblazoned on its stern. “Double-Oh-Heaven.”
