Forbidden Nights

by Lauren Blakely

  He shrugged and held up his hands in defeat. “Don’t remember the dress at all,” he said as they reached the next floor. She stepped off the elevator and he followed her, figuring the least he could do was enjoy the view of her ass as she walked. Maybe he was stooping to the basest levels today and objectifying her, but he didn’t care. She had the most fantastic ass he’d ever seen, touched, felt, held or . . .

  Dammit. There he was again, speeding on the express train to Lust Ville.

  He tried to redirect his mind to the meetings he and his team were having here in London this afternoon, and the trick worked briefly as they weaved through displays of designer dresses. Casey made a beeline for a light-blue dress, grabbed it and marched straight up to the saleswoman to let her know she needed to try it on.

  Nate lagged behind as she headed for the dressing rooms, figuring he’d use the time to answer a few emails from business partners. That would help him in his quest too.

  Then the neck of his shirt grew tighter, and he turned to find Casey jerking on it. “I need your opinion, goofball. That’s why I brought you here,” she said and practically dragged him to the dressing rooms, where classical music piped in overhead and the voices of other shoppers were hushed. It was like being in a church. She pressed her hands to his shoulders and pushed him down in a beige upholstered chair.

  “Stay here. I’ll be right out to show you.”

  She disappeared into the dressing room, and clicked the door shut behind her.

  All his business thoughts fled his brain once more as he imagined her skimming down her jeans, tugging off her top, sliding those curves he loved into that dress.

  He heard the door open and Casey popped her head out.

  “That was fast,” he said, because she’d been in there for about five seconds.

  She crooked her finger. He followed her lead, entering the dressing room. She was still wearing her jeans, her shirt and her shoes. The dress she brought into the room hung on a hanger on a hook. He pointed to the blue fabric and parted his lips, but the words he was about to say died quickly when she grabbed his collar, and pushed him against the wall. In an instant, her lips were on his, devouring him. All his questions and all his irritation leaked away in the wild hunger of her mouth. She kissed him relentlessly, sucking on his tongue and his lips so hard that he felt the kiss deep in his bones. It vibrated through his bloodstream. His brain went haywire. His body launched into maximum overdrive from the ferocity of her kiss. Her hands threaded through his hair as she rubbed her lush, delicious body along his, grinding her crotch against him, sending him spinning.

  She broke apart, whispering, “You really had no idea?”

  “No idea what?” His brain was still foggy and probably would be for days.

  With lightning speed, she dipped a hand below the waistband of his jeans, stroking him. “Why I brought you here.”

  He nearly growled from the temporary relief. “I really haven’t been able to think straight since the plane.”

  She unzipped his jeans, freeing his erection. He was ready to get down on his knees and thank the heavens for her touch. Her soft nimble hands stroked him, and he began rocking into her fist, seeking friction, seeking heat. He didn’t care what she was going to do to him right now. As long as she didn’t stop touching him anything would be okay.

  A groan rumbled through him.

  She pressed a finger to his lips. “Shh . . . you need to be quiet. Harrod’s is a very classy place,” she said softly in his ear, her breath tickling his skin. “I need you to do that for me. Can you promise me you won’t make a sound?”

  There was something so sexy about her voice right now, in the way she owned every single second of his pleasure. She’d taken charge, and she seemed to relish mapping out all the details of whatever it was she planned to do to him.

  “I promise,” he said. He would agree to anything right now.

  “Then,” she said, lingering on every word as she breathed hotly in his ear, “fuck my mouth.”

  She dropped to her knees, pushed his jeans down a few more inches, and dived in. There was no teasing, no licking, no flick of her tongue against the swollen head of his cock, and he was damn grateful. He didn’t want finesse or foreplay. He wanted to be touched.

  “Just like that,” he said on a groan. “All the way.”

  She stopped, and shook her head. The message was clear. She was in charge, and he had to listen. He mimed zipping his mouth shut, and she returned to lavishing attention on his cock.

  This blow job was straightforward. She took him all the way in and went to town on his shaft. It didn’t matter that he’d been told to be quiet. Even if he could talk, he had nothing to say. The only sounds he’d have made would have been animalistic. Besides, she didn’t need any direction from him.

  She swirled her tongue along his dick and sucked so hard she was blowing his mind too. The friction was astonishing. She was fast, and she was furious, and her lips were locked so tightly around him that she looked exactly as she had when he’d dreamed of her doing this.

  Unspeakable pleasure slammed into his body, twisting, rising, coiling through his veins. He was close, so close. She stopped once and he was ready to grab her head and drag her back to him, when he looked down to see her licking his balls. The sight of that made him nearly explode.

  She worked her tongue over on him until he could no longer take it. He speared his hands into her hair, whispering harshly, “Get back on me now.”

  She raised her eyebrows, the hottest look of satisfaction in her gaze as she wrapped her lips around his dick once more, then grabbed his ass in her hands and rocked him into her mouth.

  This was it. This was the motherfucking blow job of his life. He gave it to her good and she took it, obliterating his hold on any thread of sanity with the way her wicked tongue licked him and her lips sucked hard, so hard that the pressure built and built and built, then it simply crashed into him, ripping all the breath from his lungs. White-hot light erupted behind his eyelids.

  He gripped her head, curling his fingers around her skull as she dug her sharp nails into his ass. He came hard in her mouth. It was an explosion of pleasure in his body, a sheer blast of intoxication rocketing through his cells.

  Blow jobs were certainly known to sink a man’s hold on logic, to lead a man to say things that he wouldn’t ordinarily say. But he’d retained some awareness of his surroundings, and the proximity to other people beyond the dressing room doors. Otherwise, he probably would’ve blurted out something he wasn’t ready to reveal. Not just something sexual or dirty, but something deeper, about how much he had wanted that from her. For years.

  As she stood up, he was damn near ready to tell her then he had dreamed of that, and not merely because he wanted her physically, but because he simply wanted her. More than he’d ever expected to.

  But her finger was back on his lips again, keeping him quiet. She had no idea he’d been about to tell her how long she’d been the star of his fantasies, and how he hated the idea of ever letting go of their new reality.

  * * *

  Turned out Harrod’s really did have the dress she wanted. Casey didn’t even need to try it on. She told him she knew Herve Leger fit her like a glove, so she’d grabbed the dress from the dressing room, slapped down her credit card, and snapped it up for the rehearsal dinner.

  When they slid back into the car a few minutes later, zipped back up, hair straightened, she spoke first, brandishing her shopping bag. “Look! It was so worth the stop. Thank you for waiting for me.”

  Nate put the brakes on a naughty grin, turning his head to stare out the window so his colleagues wouldn’t know that their boss had just gotten blown in Harrod’s.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  London, noon . . .

  The top floor of The Luxe in Kensington was stunning, with gold-trimmed walls and a royal blue carpet leading them down the hallway to a penthouse suite. He slid the card through the slot, then held the door open for
her. She had stayed at his hotels many times, so she knew better than to let her jaw drop when taking in the richness and sensuality of the rooms, but she had never stayed in the penthouse suite in London before. The suite was palatial, and impeccably appointed with a British flair to the furniture, but still outfitted in the sleek and sexy style The Luxe was known for.

  She was about to make a quip about how it’s good to know the CEO, when he dropped their two suitcases on the floor, grabbed her wrists, and backed her up against the wall.

  “Look at the room later,” he said in warning, his eyes blazing at her. He had that hot and hungry look that made her feel as if he wanted to eat her up.

  “I have my meeting soon with Sofia’s,” she said in protest, but he didn’t seem to care, because he’d nudged her legs apart with a strong thigh, and she was spread-eagle, standing up, pinned to the wall.

  “This doesn’t need to take long,” he said, grasping her wrists so tightly his fingers dug into her flesh, delivering a sharp bite of pressure. Of ownership. Of possession.

  “But it’s at one p.m. I don’t know how long it will take to get to Hyde Park,” she said breathily, fighting the battle her body was waging, because her body wanted to take him up on his quickie offer, thank you very much.

  He dropped one hand from her wrists to run his thumb along her cheek. “Don’t think you can wriggle away from me. After what you did to me at Harrod’s, I’m going to need to bend you over the bed, and show you what happens when you try to take control like that.”

  She made a purring sound, momentarily feeding his appetite and their game. “What will you do?”

  “Fuck you into submission. Fuck you until you come again and again. Fuck you until you beg for me to do it again.”

  “Is this supposed to be a punishment for me taking charge? Because it sounds pretty good,” she said, arching an eyebrow in some sort of challenge.

  “Don’t test me, Casey,” he said, and surely, he was playing a role again. He was her lover, calling all the shots, keeping her under his command. Dropping his hold on her wrists, he crushed his lips to hers, kissing her so hard that she was nearly ready to throw in the towel and say screw the meeting.

  Especially when he turned on his tender side, and whispered, “Let me take care of you now.”

  But she had an appointment and she intended to keep it. Tardiness for the sake of an O might be momentarily rewarding, but it was foolish long-term.

  She gently, but firmly pushed him away. “I want to. I truly do. But I need to shower after the flight and change and freshen up. I don’t want to be late,” she said, then ran a finger along his jawline. He hitched in his breath, closing his eyes softly. When he opened them, there was something different in his expression. A vulnerability she hadn’t seen in him often.

  “Besides, I need you to know that I didn’t do that to you in the dressing room to get something back,” she added, looking him square in the eyes. “This thing between us doesn’t just have to be about you teaching me. Sometimes I want to lead, and sometimes I want to give. I hope you didn’t mind that I took the lead on that and just kind of pushed you up against the wall at Harrod’s.”

  He shook his head vigorously. “God, I loved it. Casey. When is it going to get through to you that I love everything you do to me?”

  Warmth bloomed inside her chest, like a big daisy flower in the summer. This man made her feel so sexy, and so passionate, and no one had done that for her in years. When she’d been with Scott, she’d spent her days engineering pleasure for others, and her nights trying to figure out where she’d gone wrong in the bedroom. With Nate, she felt both beautiful and desired. She wanted to clutch this feeling close to her chest, and hold onto it for all time. She wanted to share it with him too. “I’m happy you liked it. I wanted you to feel better,” she said, running her hand along his arm. “I hated that Joanna put you in a funk, so I wanted to do something to get you out of it.”

  He wrenched back, narrowing his eyes, staring at her in surprise. “Please tell me you didn’t give me a blow job because you felt sorry for me because of my ex-wife.”

  Cold needles of worry pricked into her. She shook her head quickly. “Of course not,” she said, her voice rising.

  He backed away, shoving a hand through his hair. “Casey,” he said, in a frustrated tone as he reached the doorway to the bathroom, leaning against it.

  “Nate, it wasn’t a pity blow job,” she said, closing the distance between them again, refusing to let him shut down.

  “You just said you did it because you felt bad about Joanna.”

  “I did feel bad about Joanna. I also wanted your dick in my mouth,” she said, choosing to be particularly blunt.

  He laughed once, then stopped. “I like the second part of that better than the first. Can you say that second part again?”

  She tap-danced her hands up the front of his shirt. “I loved doing that to you. But I’m not going to shy away from saying the hard things. And that’s this—I wish Joanna didn’t have such a hold on you,” she said with a sigh.

  “She doesn’t have a hold on me,” he said quickly, perhaps too quickly, too insistently.

  The memory of last night outside his apartment flashed before her, and she pressed on. “I think she does, though. She hurt you and seeing her reminds you of how deep that hurt is. Right?”

  He sighed, then held up his hands in admission. “Fine. She hurt me. And, fine. I don’t like seeing her. You got me on both accounts. Can we just talk about anything else?”

  “We don’t have to talk about her,” she said. “But sometimes I want to talk about the past. I want to understand it. I want to move beyond it, and I want you to be able to as well. And maybe sometimes I want to do something physical to bring you back to the present, okay?” she said, staring hard in his eyes, refusing to let go of this issue. It was important to her. She didn’t intend to let Joanna stand in the middle of them, whether they were friends or part-time lovers. “I hate that she hurt you. I don’t want anyone to hurt you ever. But don’t let the hurt define you. Don’t let her define you. You have so much to give a woman, and I don’t want you to lose out because of what she did, Nate.”

  He nodded slowly, then swallowed. “You’re right,” he said, as if the admission cost him something. “Seeing her just reminds of how stupid I was to ever trust her, and how I had no clue what she was up to. I had no idea that it was happening right under my nose. I was such a fool, Casey,” he said, shame thick in his voice. “I went out to dinner with the two of them. They were at our apartment for a New Year’s party once. He even thanked me for supporting my wife and putting her through the MFA program. The whole time they were having an affair. It probably would have gone on for another year if she hadn’t left an email open on her computer when she asked me to check the movie times for a film we going to see that night,” he said, cringing, and she rubbed a hand gently down his arm, as if that would somehow take the pain away. It wouldn’t, but it was all she could do. “What if it happened again? How would I even know?”

  “She’s the exception. She’s not the rule. Most people don’t do that. I’ve never done that. I never would.”

  “I know you wouldn’t,” he said softly. “And yeah, I’d really like to keep moving past her too. So if you want me to be totally honest, this thing with you,” he said, gesturing from her to him and back, then wiggling his eyebrows in a suggestive fashion, “has done more for me than anything has to put her farther in the rear-view mirror.”

  Her lips curved into a smile. “Aha! So this isn’t totally one-sided!” She pumped a fist.

  He dropped his hands to her shoulder, clasping her firmly. “It was never one-sided. Get that through your head once and for all. It’s all-sided. It’s me-sided. It’s two-sided. It’s fifty-million sided,” he said. “But if you want to start bringing up exes and talking about the past, I could say the same for you. Because Scott made you think you can’t be true to yourself with a man. That you can�
�t be forward. But some men love when you talk back and say what you want,” he said, flashing her a naughty grin that was like a shot of sunlight in her chest when he pointed at himself. “Yet he somehow convinced you that you’re not as beautiful or sensual or passionate as I’ve known you to be in just a few short weeks of playing your lover,” he said, and she bristled at the word playing. Right now, she didn’t want him to be playing. She wished they could stop playing, and he could simply be her lover. Not forever, not for all time, but for now.

  For real, here in London.

  But she focused instead on what he’d said about Scott. If she expected him to be honest with her, she had to do the same. “Yeah, he did a number on me. I felt like a failure in bed after him, and you’ve made me feel anything but,” she said, and there it was again. That flash of vulnerability in his eyes. She’d seen playfulness in them, she’d seen laughter, she’d seen passion, and she’d seen anger. But now, there was something that seemed to go deeper; something that was usually reserved for someone who was much more than a friend.

  He raised a hand to her face, softly brushing the backs of his fingers against her cheek. “You didn’t need to learn to let go. You didn’t need to figure out how to give up control. You’re perfect the way you are, and I love what you did to me in the dressing room. Giving up control isn’t what makes for great sex. At least, that’s not what does it for me.”

  Casey swallowed dryly. A swarm of butterflies flew in her chest. Things were changing with Nate, and she hardly understood what was happening, only how it felt inside her heart. Wild and free. “What does it for you?”

  He locked eyes with her, and her insides flipped, a spark of desire swooping from head to toe. “What turns me on are two people who have to have each other. That’s what makes for great sex—when you need to be as close to a person as you possibly can. It’s about wild, sweat–slicked, hot desire and your pulse pounding in your ear. It’s about heat and need and want, and fucking in stairwells, and screwing standing up, and clawing off clothes to get at each other. It’s about kissing her while you make love to her, and fucking her senseless at the same damn time.”