But it felt so good. It felt right. Something about him just made her insides melt.
No matter what happened after her time in Macau was up, she’d always take this feeling with her. That man certainly knew how to touch a woman, how to make her perch on the edge of pleasure then make her soar over it. She’d never had so many orgasms before in her entire life. He was worth keeping for the remainder of the trip for that reason alone.
Disappointment flooded her as she rolled onto her side and realised he wasn’t lying next to her, but the warmth of the sheets told her he hadn’t gone too long. The glare of the alarm clock on the nightstand said it was early, the numbers illuminating the discarded foil wrappers from yesterday. A blush fell over her cheeks at the memory, and something clenched between her still aching thighs.
Where was he?
Swinging her legs over the side, Tara slowly rose to her feet, stretching her muscles. Wrapping the sheet around her, she quietly walked out of the room, searching for Cong.
As she crept closer to the living room, she heard him talking in his native tongue. Not understanding a single word, she leaned against the doorframe, watching him as he chatted. Sitting on one of the leather sofas, Cong his back to her, he talked away on the phone, rubbing a hand over his face. Who was he talking to at this time of the morning?
After hanging up, Cong threw the phone onto the sofa and leaned back, his black hair lost in the near darkness. It was then that he caught her from the corner of his eye.
She inhaled sharply, clutching the sheet around her naked body as he smiled in her direction. “Tara, what are you doing up?” he asked softly, but beckoning her to join him. “You should be resting.”
Feeling her cheeks redden, Tara walked towards him, settling down on the sofa and drawing her knees up to her chest so that only her toes poked out of the sheet. “I couldn’t sleep anymore so I thought I’d come find you. Do you always get up at this awful time?”
Cong smiled and reached for her, drawing her closer to his half-naked body. His skin was so warm next to hers as he settled her back against his chest. “Most of the time I’m up by five. It’s a habit from my childhood living in the mountains. Most of the villagers are farmers, so everyone is up before the sun creeps across the horizon.”
“It must have been beautiful childhood, growing up in the mountains,” Tara whispered, sinking into the warm sensation of his arms around her. “When did you leave?”
“I was sixteen when I left,” he told her, and Tara could hear the heavily controlled emotion in his voice. “I made my way down to Macau a few months after my birthday. It took me nearly a week to get there on foot, hitch-hiking and sneaking onto trains when I could, but as soon as I arrived, I knew there was no other place for me. Macau was where I belonged. I used to go back to the village every year, but after my grandparents’ funerals I found it was just too hard.”
“When was the last time you went back?” Tara asked, mindlessly tracing circles around his wrists.
“About nine years ago. I helped with the preparations for the ancestral festival, performed my role, and then returned home. Not been back since. Work keeps me busy.”
“You should go back. It would probably do you good,” Tara whispered. “My grandparents died when I was at university, and I always like to go to their graves and pay my respects. It’s therapeutic.”
Cong’s arms tightened around her body and rested his chin on top of her head. “Maybe I will. I think you’d like the village where I grew up. It’s small, but its spread out over the slopes of the mountains, and the river runs past my grandparents’ old house. The cow would go drinking there, and the chickens would roam all over the damn place, but they always came home to their coop before dark fell. The sunrise was always beautiful, tinging the clouds red and gold. In the winter, a sea of clouds would surround the entire village, so that you couldn’t see past the end of your nose.”
“It sounds magical,” Tara breathed, conjuring images of his childhood home in her imagination. “Like something out of a fantasy.”
“It was. I love Macau, it’s my home and always will be, but even I can’t deny how beautiful the mountains are. They’re a part of me, just like the city.” Cong started rubbing the top of Tara’s arms. “You should go back to bed. I have plans for us in the morning.”
Tara sat up and twisted her body so she could look at him. “Who were you talking to?”
“Hmm? Oh, just Zhihuan, my lawyer,” he explained reaching for his coffee and taking a sip of the cooling liquid.
Tara cocked her head as she stared at him. “You talk to your lawyer at nearly five in the morning?” she asked, hearing the scepticism in her voice. Don’t be one of those types, the voice in her head warned. It’s a sure-fire way of ending this before it begins.
Cong turned to her and gave her a half smile. “Zhihuan and I are both early risers, and for what I pay him, he’d better answer my calls anytime I ring him.”
Tara rose an eyebrow but remained silent.
Cong’s smile faded, and he pulled her into his arms. “The village that I grew up in has never had much money. We were the poorest in the region. There were times when food was scarce, the kids couldn’t go to school because there weren’t any supplies, and that’s when they weren’t needed to help on the farms. Floods destroyed several houses over the years, and most of the time no one could get hospital treatment because the money simply wasn’t there. So now I’m able to, I look after them.”
Raising her head, Tara stared at him, searching his face, and finding nothing but the truth. “You do?” she asked, her voice coated with a layer of surprise.
Nodding, Cong began rubbing her back and sighed. “Yeah. Since I’ve opened my company, I’ve opened a school, repaired the village hall, and helped restore the houses that needed work. Many of the villagers are elderly, and the younger generation migrates to the cities looking for work or marriage, so I arrange for extra food and other supplies. Those who need medical treatment, I cover their costs.”
Tara slowly raised her face and kissed him on his lips, the surprise dancing on his face when she pulled back and gave him a warm smile. “You’re a wonderful man, Zheng Cong. Does everyone know what you do?”
Cong shook his head, a ghost of a sad smile hovering over his mouth. “No,” he told her, his voice almost a whisper, sadness coating his tone. Shadows passed behind his eyes like a flickering memory. “Apart from Zhihuan and Angela, my secretary, you’re the only one who knows.”
A surge of warmth radiated throughout Tara’s body at his words. She could taste the truth of them. Cong was truly unique; he was a shrewd businessman, ruthless in every way possible, but the fact that no one knew how generous he was, showed his true colours. And he had chosen to show them to her.
But she still knew in her gut he was keeping something from her.
Shaking off the thought, Tara reached up and pulled his face down for another kiss. She gently caressed his lips with her own, as gently as she could, all her emotions poured into it. Cong’s hand slid up to cup her delicate heart-shaped face within his strong hands, teasing the seam of her mouth with his tongue until she welcomed him inside. He tasted like heaven and sin all rolled into one.
Tara sank into the sensation, wishing that time could stop still, so she could savour it without worrying about time passing them by. Her stomach did a little flip when he pulled away the edges of the sheet wrapped around her body, pressing her up against his own, so their naked chests were touching.
Pulling back, Cong brushed away strands of red hair and drank in the sight of her. Tara’s core clenched at the sight of his whiskey-coloured eyes drinking her in, glittering in the near darkness. He murmured something in Cantonese, raining butterfly-soft kisses over her jawline. “How did a guy like me meet someone as beautiful as you?”
“You need to blame the marketplace,” Tara told him, the words floating out in a breathless whisper. “They make crappy shoes that break in airports.”
>
A ripple of laughter peeled from Cong’s mouth. “Remind me to send them a thank you card,” he told her before discarding the sheet to the floor. He let out a sigh, his warm breath coated with the bitter taste of coffee washing over her lips.
Warms fingers brushed over her face as the softest lips glided over hers, a silken caress that sent the butterflies in Tara’s stomach fluttering. Without saying anything, Cong scooped her up in his and carried her back towards the bedroom where he placed her on the bed.
With soft fingers, he touched her delicately, like a rose petal he was careful not to bruise. Almond-shaped eyes probed everywhere, the intensity in his eyes growing, along with the thickness of him against her thigh.
Definitely one to keep, the voice agreed.
Cong trailed kisses down her collarbone, slipping across her skin like electrified silk, towards the fullness of her breasts, her nipples hardening and ready for his attention. She was burning up inside, and no amount of water could extinguish her. “Have you ever been on a helicopter, Tara?” he asked between kisses.
Sensation flooded down Tara’s spine as Cong sucked on her left breast and it took a few seconds for his words to sink in. “No,” she moaned.
“Good, because tomorrow I’m going to take you for a tour of the city by helicopter. It’ll be another first for you.”
A growl sounded through the darkness, now tinged with the first rays of light peeking over the horizon and seeping through the windows. Tara vaguely recognised it as her own. “How many more firsts are you going to show me?” she asked in a breathless whisper.
Cong slid down her body, biting and nipping as he went, producing tormented little whimpers from her mouth until his mouth hovered over her aching core. “Everything I can,” he whispered back, meeting her gaze. Christ, he looked sexy as sin looking over the top of the heart of her. “But first, I want you to experience another round of multiple orgasms.”
His mouth descended over her core, licking and probing through the soft folds until it found that sensitive little nub. Tara couldn’t help but cry out with that first flick, sensation washing over her. She flung her head back, face contorting in ecstasy, her spine arching under the pleasure while Cong made love to her with his mouth. Hands on her waist, forcing her to stay in position, his mouth devoured her, and Tara sank into the sensation. The wave in her weeping core built and built until finally, it crashed over her, drowning her in a sea of pleasure and ecstasy.
Cong continued working his mouth against her core until the spasms completely stopped and then withdrew, flipping her onto her front. Raising her bottom in the air, he positioned his member against the hot wet flesh and thrust inside in one smooth motion. He glided in and out, holding her still, his fingers gripping her hips, thrusting deep.
Tara gasped with the sensation of being filled so completely. Heat spread through every inch of her being. Waves of pleasure began to build again, the friction of her nipples sliding against the mattress causing the pressure in her clit to deepen. The feeling travelled through her entire body until she was more sensation than woman.
“Tara,” Cong gritted between clenched teeth. “Lengzai. You’re mine. By the gods, you’re mine.”
His words, thick with passion, sent ripples of desire through her as he continued to thrust within her. Tara moaned, unable to form the words to articulate how she was feeling right then, her brain and the rest of her body set ablaze. Cong’s fingers were electric; wherever he touched, her skin tingled in a frenzy of static. Cries ripped from her throat.
Moaning saturated the air, but Tara didn’t know whether it was hers or Cong’s. She didn’t care. All she knew was that he was inside her and it felt incredible. Her body swayed between heaven and flames, but she wanted both. She needed more, needed the release, but still loving the tension at the same time. The pressure continued to build, and Cong’s thrusts grew deeper and harder, his speed building. The slapping of flesh rang in her ears until with one last thrust, they both cried out in pleasure with their own releases.
Cong
Cong sat at his desk, finishing off the last of his emails before the end of the day. Finally, the Tokyo project was closed, and he could start the proceedings to strip it off its valuable assets and reap back the costs of its purchase. Already, several potential buyers had made enquiries. He’d make a fortune out of the venture if it went right.
But Cong knew all too well the dangers of getting ahead of himself. He’d lost thousands on an early investment due to carelessness and thinking too far ahead instead of concentrating on the situation at hand. OK, he was only nineteen at the time, but it meant he couldn’t send anything back to his grandparents. The dishonour of it proved to be one of the best lessons he’d ever been taught about the ruthless, cutthroat world of business.
Hitting the send button on an email to his managers who dealt with the Japanese side of things, Cong leaned back in his chair and heaved a sigh of relief. Rubbing a hand over his tired eyes, he caught sight of the time. Nearly six. Tara would be here soon.
Warmth started to blossom in the pit of his stomach at the thought of her, and a grin spread across his face. Suddenly, he didn’t feel so tired anymore. For the last three days, they’d been inseparable. During the day, they’d go off sight-seeing, exploring temples and churches where the overwhelming scent of incense perfumed the air, little markets where locals would encourage them to browse, and dining in small cafes and restaurants. In the evenings, they’d make love before heading out to dinner, then back and do it all over again.
Tara had proven herself to be as incredible as what he’d originally thought. Sweet and kind, but with a firm, no-nonsense attitude at times, always ready to put him back in his place if he got out of line. He loved that about her. Most women were happy to act the sweet, submissive type to get what they wanted – money and to be seen with him. But Tara was different. She didn’t give a damn about his money, or who he was, or what gifts she could get out of him – she just liked being with him.
Yeah, he’d never known anyone like her before.
But their time was ending soon. Within a few days, Tara would be heading for the bright lights of Hong Kong. They hadn’t talked about her upcoming travel plans, but Cong’s gut tightened at the thought of her leaving. Already, he’d been dropping hints about her altering her plans. It wasn’t as if she had to worry about accommodation anyway – he’d soon see about that. If she wanted to stay at the Orchid Hotel, then he’d arrange for it, but if not, he had no problem with her staying at his apartment. His cock stirred to life at the thought. Yeah, that could work. He loved falling asleep with her wrapped in his arms and waking up to find her legs curled around his, her breasts pressed against his chest, her breath warm on his throat. Having her there, ready and waiting for him, was an idea he could get on board with.
Suddenly, the phone beside him began to ring, jolting him out of his thoughts. “Yes, Angela?” he asked.
“Sorry to disturb you, Mr Zheng, but there is a Miss Wei to see you. She doesn’t have an appointment but is insisting on seeing you.” Although no one else would sense it, Cong had been working with Angela long enough to detect the hint of annoyance and irritation in her voice.
Cong groaned. What the hell was Ruomei doing here? “Get rid of her. Tell her I’m just about to go into an important meeting. Tell her I’m dead. Anything. I don’t care what.”
“Very good, sir,” Angela said, her tone tight, before hanging up.
Heaving a sigh of relief, Cong closed his eyes. Ruomei was getting to be a pain. But just as his body was releasing the tension building up, his door flung open to reveal the one person he didn’t want to see.
“Why are you trying to hide from me, Cong?” she asked, her voice laced with mock admonishment. “Anyone else would think that you didn’t want to see me.”
Without looking at her, Cong groaned. “That’s because I don’t want to see you, Ruomei. Why can’t you get the hint?”
“Nonsense. You
always love seeing me. Although if I remember correctly, you once said you loved seeing me naked and on my knees. Do you remember that night?”
A shiver of repulsion rippled down his spine as the memory flashed before his eyes as he glanced towards the doorway. “Unfortunately, I do.”
“See, you remember,” she told him, ignoring the tone lacing his words, and shutting the door in Angela’s shocked and rather annoyed face. “Besides, I’m not here to remind you how good I am on my knees. Not yet anyway. At the moment, I’m strictly about business.”
“What business?” Cong asked, watching her as she strode forward, a resigned sigh puffing between his lips. Today, she was wearing a yellow flared dress that reached her knees and paired with white strappy sandals. She’d swept her midnight locks up into an elegant chignon and held a white leather clutch bag in one hand. Lashings of mascara framed her dark eyes, and she had completed the look with a slick of pale pink lipstick. Yeah, there was an elegant beauty to her, but she did nothing for him. Not anymore.
Ruomei sauntered over and sat down in one of the two chairs positioned in front of his desk. Crossing her legs, he quickly caught sight of the fact that she wore nothing beneath her dress. “Xiangming Corporation business, that’s what,” she told him staring down at her nails then up at him with a coquettish look. “Something I thought you’d be interested in.”
Cong pulled a neutral look over his face and leaned back. “Go on.”
“Have you heard that the corporation has started to go under?”
“No, I hadn’t,” Cong replied, a crease forming between his brows. This was the first he’d heard about it, and he had eyes and ears all over Asia and beyond.
Ruomei heaved a dramatic sigh and pouted. “Last week, I was visiting Daddy and Lang at the office, but they were taking positively ages, so I went for a little walk. While I was heading back to the elevator, I overheard a couple of the office clerks mumbling in a little storage room. At first, I thought they were getting it on, but instead, I overheard them about how they needed to cover their tracks better or they were going to get caught.”
Intoxication Page 11
