Jared felt her throat relax, another soft moan escaping her lips.
His balls tightened, his orgasm building, hot sensation flooding his entire body, pushing him closer and closer until finally—
“Arianne!” He fisted his hand in her hair and held her in place, unable to look away, unwilling to blink as he exploded in her mouth, emptying himself in a hot torrent.
After a moment, Arianne pulled away gently, curling up beside him and waiting patiently for him to return to his senses.
When he finally regained his motor skills, he turned to face her.
“I think we pissed off the gods,” he said, stroking her cheek.
She was shivering, but she smiled. And suddenly there it was again, that beautiful laugh of hers that lit him up inside like a goddamn sun.
Jared pulled her close and rolled on top of her, shielding her from the rain as he made a silent promise with his kiss.
I’m not letting you go, Arianne Holbrook.
Chapter Eight
759462. 759462. 759462.
Now that she’d seen Jared enter the security alarm code, Ari couldn’t un-see it. Couldn’t get the sequence out of her mind, no matter how hard she tried.
It was the kind of perfect intel most thieves would risk their lives for, and all Ari’d had to do was glance up at the right moment. A two-second effort after she and Jared had gotten home from their picnic. They were still laughing about getting caught in the rain, shivering in their wet clothes; it hadn’t even occurred to Jared that she might be watching him. That she might have a reason to watch him.
759462. Six little digits, plus something to get Jared out of the house when the time came… it was everything Davidson needed to bleed Jared’s priceless art collection dry. Everything she needed to win back Davidson’s trust.
That’s my girl, her father’s voice echoed in her head. Resourceful as always.
Now, standing in the dressing room behind Jared’s sister Cami’s massive closet, Ari gazed up at the LaPorte painting that had haunted her for days.
“Where did you come from?” she whispered, narrowing her eyes at the mirror in the canvas as though she might find her answers there.
But it was Jared’s voice that answered, startling her from the doorway behind. “Still wondering about that, are you?”
“Only because you haven’t told me much.” Ari calmed herself and turned to face him, hoping she might be able to press him for more details about the LaPorte. But when she saw the look in his eyes, still warm and happy from their picnic, she couldn’t bear to bring that ugly tension back between them. “I’m sorry,” she said. “Forget I said that. We agreed no work talk, right?”
“It reminds you of your father,” he said kindly, letting her off the hook for breaking their agreement. “You can ask me anything you’d like. But Arianne, I swear I’ve told you all I can remember about that piece. If I track down anything else, I’ll let you know straight away.”
Ari nodded, leaning into his embrace. His arms were so strong and warm, his chest so solid. Ari pressed her ear to it, closing her eyes at the comfort of his steady heartbeat.
Though she’d left out some of the details last night, she hadn’t been lying when she’d told him about looking for a connection to her father in other peoples’ homes, through their art. That part was true, as much as she’d never fully articulated it before.
The problem was that—like so many things she’d shared with Jared—it was only half the truth. Maybe even less than that.
“I guess I just can’t get my mind off work sometimes,” she said, pulling back to meet his eyes. “There’s a nonstop hamster wheel spinning in my head.”
“Funny thing about that.” Jared swept the rain-damp hair from her face, his thumb tracing her cheekbone. “I’ve got just the cure.”
Ari pressed against his body. Like his heart, his erection was sure and steady, always ready for more. She laughed. “Here in your pocket, right?”
“No, love. Down in the basement.” He leaned in close, lips brushing the shell of her ear as he whispered, “In my secret lair.”
Ari’s stomach fizzed with excitement. She’d seen everything the basement had to offer during the party last night… everything except for the locked—and heavily alarmed—room.
“Should I be afraid?” she teased.
“No.” Jared laughed, the look in his eyes turning suddenly fierce. “You should be utterly terrified.”
Chapter Nine
“There are three conditions,” Jared said, his voice firm and commanding in a way that left absolutely no room for discussion.
Ari gulped as she followed him down the basement stairs. “Conditions?”
“Normally I require a signed agreement, but I’ll make an exception this time. As long as you promise me you won’t utter a word to Evan. He’s not very flexible on this point.”
“The… a signed agreement? Evan?” Ari’s mouth went dry, a heady mix of curiosity and anxiety roiling in her stomach. She knew that Jared was a commanding lover—she adored that about him—but she had no idea he could be so… official about things. Rough sex, dirty talk, bondage, oh hell yes she could get into all of that.
But a whole room? One that required forms? That his best friend and business partner knew about?
Just how kinky is this man?
“Maybe this isn’t such a good idea, Jared,” Ari said. “Let’s go back upstairs. You can make me a fire instead. I’m… I’m cold all of a sudden.”
“Don’t worry,” he said. “The conditions are simple, really.” They’d reached the secured door to the room, and Jared punched in a code she didn’t see this time, pushing the door open just a crack.
“One,” Jared said, turning to face her. His muscled body blocked her view into the dark room, but she could still make out the glow of colored lights, the faint hum of electronics in the distance. “What I’m about to share with you is highly confidential. You must never tell a soul what we do in here.”
Ari’s knees weakened, but she nodded, anticipation barely winning out over anxiety.
“Two, I make the rules. For your own safety, you must do as I say.”
“But I…” Ari’s voice was creaky and thin, her lips dry. She cleared her throat and tried again. “What’s the third condition?”
Jared winked—definitely not a good sign. He reached inside the doorway to grab something from inside the room, and when he turned to face her again, Ari’s heart dropped straight into her stomach.
“Protective gear must be worn at all times.” With a wicked grin, Jared handed her a helmet and a set of kneepads, then fastened a thick black bracelet to her wrist. “Heart rate monitor. It’s only to keep you safe, love.”
Ari trembled inside, her heart pounding as she felt the weight of the rest of the gear. The kneepads were light and flexible, but the helmet wasn’t. The thing had a face shield and felt like it was bulletproof, made out of some space-age stuff she couldn’t even identify.
Whatever was beyond that doorway was serious business.
Curiosity beat out fear.
Ari slipped the kneepads on and fastened the helmet, taking her time with the buckle. Could she do this? Give herself over completely to whatever dark fantasies Jared had been holding back? How far would he take it? How far would she let him take it?
Her brain was screaming at her to run back upstairs, call the whole game off. But beneath the fabric of the shorts she’d put on, Ari’s pussy throbbed with desire, already slick with anticipation of whatever Jared had in store.
Jared lifted her face shield and held his hand out for hers. She couldn’t read the look on his face; he’d gone neutral on her. “You ready?”
Ari closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She’d had plenty of practice shutting off her brain, but she’d never ignore her instincts. Her physical being. Her desire. And right now, despite her trepidations, that desire was on red alert.
Whatever he’s got in store, you fucking want it,
girl.
Opening her eyes, she grabbed his hand. “Show me to my demise, sir.”
“With pleasure.” Jared led her inside and turned on another set of lights, bathing the room in a soft red glow that gave off an upscale club vibe. “Drinks first.”
Ari shivered, her nerves firing off in rapid succession as Jared led them to the bar.
The sex room had a bar. A fully stocked bar.
It was like a club. A kinky, sexy-as-hell club that Ari—now that she was here—couldn’t wait to explore.
But the moment she took a seat at the bar and looked around—really looked around—her nervous anticipation turned into a giggle, and within ten seconds, that giggle burst forth into laughter.
Uncontrollable, unstoppable, belly-aching laughter.
“Oh my god,” she said, barely keeping it together. “This is a game room. As in video games.”
Unfazed, Jared sliced a lime for her drink. “Of course, love. What did you think?”
Ari couldn’t get her laughter under control. “But… the helmet? And the whole ‘the first rule of the secret room is don’t talk about the secret room’ thing?”
Jared handed her a gin and tonic. Pouring himself a scotch, he said, “Nothing I’m about to show you—including the gear—is on the market yet. The game is called Brawler, and it’s all in beta. If the game developers knew I’d let you see it without signing the non-disclosure, they’d probably sue me. And Evan would put my balls in a sling. They’d be right to. I’d do it to them in a heartbeat. Cheers, love.”
Ari clinked her glass to his, her giggles finally subsiding. After a long pull of her drink, she set her glass down and met Jared’s eyes. “I have a confession, but you’re not allowed to laugh.”
“Of course not,” he said, joining her at the front of the bar. “Clearly laughter is forbidden here.”
“I’m serious!”
“Okay, okay. I promise not to laugh. Now what is this burning confession? I hope it has something to do with your naughtiest fantasies.” Jared leaned in close, trailing his fingers up the inside of her thigh.
A shiver overtook her, but she couldn’t meet his eyes. “I totally thought you had some kind of… you know. Room. Like a kinky sex playroom down here. Like the guy in those books.”
Promises be damned. Jared was laughing his ass off. “Have you gone bloody mad?”
“What? You’re the one who got all dark and mysterious about things. Not to mention the kneepads. Kneepads, Jared!”
Jared tapped her kneepad lightly. “You know, you might be onto something here…”
“Don’t even think it. I want to play Brawler.”
“Naked Brawler, perhaps?”
“We’ll see, you scoundrel.” Ari hopped off the barstool and collected her drink. “Now that you’ve got me here under false pretenses, the least you could do is give me the tour.”
“My pleasure.” Jared said. “Follow me.”
Unlike the rest of Jared’s sprawling country home, the game room boasted no fine art, no priceless ancient statues, no hand-woven tapestries from dynasties long past. Instead it was sleek and modern, with black padded walls and surround sound speakers. The bar area took up one side of the room, complete with a few cocktail tables and chairs, all positioned with a view of the front of the room, a massive wall of screens and monitors set just behind a raised platform just large enough for a couple of people to stand on.
The back wall was lined with a half dozen old arcade games—Ms. Pac-Man, Donkey Kong, Space Invaders, and a few others Ari didn’t recognize.
“This is incredible.” Ari said. “Is this where you do your product testing?”
“One of the places, yes. I’ve got a smaller version of this room in my apartment in the city, and an entire floor of virtual gaming rooms in our offices. We do beta testing for developers looking to launch new games and gaming technology on FierceConnect.”
“I thought you guys made the games.”
“No,” Jared said. “We make the distribution and social platform for them. So gamers in every country can sign up, friend each other, buy multiplayer and single player games through our network, share stats, trade games, set up tournaments, design and test new games and mods, and play together in real time. Partnering allows us to offer our network users a huge selection of games, and it gives the game developers access to our millions of users, which makes everyone happy all around.”
Ari gave him a wry smile. “Wow. This place is, like, nirvana for video game nerds.”
“Judge not. Didn’t anyone ever tell you that gamers make the best lovers?” Jared wrapped a hand around the curve of her ass, his fingers dipping seductively between her thighs. “Excellent manual dexterity and control, not to mention our dogged persistence in the face of a worthy opponent.”
Ari pulled away from his touch. She’d been wet since they got to the basement; at this rate, she’d never get to see the games.
“Less flirting, more gaming, Blackwell.”
“If you insist.” Jared hit a button on the wall, and two round platforms rose from the stage at the front of the room. The platforms were large—each about eight feet in diameter—and the front part had a waist-high control panel that looked like something out of Star Trek.
Before she could make another nerd joke, the largest screen in front of them lit up with a logo written in bloody, obnoxious lettering, brightening the entire room.
BRAWLER…
TIME TO GET HOUSED!
“It’s a virtual reality street fight,” Jared explained. “Two players at a time, no holds barred. Hit below the belt, get scrappy, do whatever you can to get the other guy down. Anything you do on the platform will translate onto the screen, so the more brutal you fight, the more entertaining it will be.”
Ari laughed. “I see we’re playing full testosterone mode.”
“Indeed. Care to put a wager on it?” Jared gestured for Ari to step up onto one of the platforms.
“How is that fair?” Ari fit her drink into the built-in holder on her control panel—spill-proof, no doubt. At her touch, a series of white lights illuminated the controls in front of her, not unlike the dashboard of a car. “I’ve never played. And you basically invented this stuff.”
“Hardly. I’ve only played it a few times.” Jared took a pair of fingerless gloves from his center console, nodding for Ari to do the same. They were covered in what looked like little electrodes and sensors. The moment Ari put them on, her bracelet lit up too.
The game loaded fully on the screen as a voice boomed through the speakers. “Welcome back, J-Black. Are you ready to brawl?”
“J-Black? Are you serious?” Ari laughed, scanning the screen to see Jared’s stats. “Twelve hundred forty-three hours of play. You call that a few times?”
“It’s a demanding job,” he teased, flipping his face shield down.
Ari did the same. The game sharpened before her eyes, everything appearing before her as if it was real. Instinctively she reached forward to touch a tree, surprised that she didn’t really feel it. It was totally surreal.
“These graphics are incredible,” she said. “I can’t even imagine the time and talent that goes into something like this.”
“A whole team and then some,” he said.
“Well I hope you pay them well, because this is seriously art… wow.” She held her hands before her face shield, and saw her avatar’s hands as though they were connected to her real body. She waved, watching the on-screen version wave back at her. It was trippy. In a good way.
“What do you think?”
“I think I’m about to get my ass kicked.”
“Don’t worry,” Jared said, his maddening laugh doing nothing to alleviate her concerns. “I’m an excellent coach.”
After Ari picked her avatar name—Warianne, which pleased her to no end—Jared gave her a crash course, showing her how to work all the controls on her gloves. The game was incredibly detailed and accurate; every time she punched, k
icked, or dropped to a crouch, her onscreen likeness followed suit, flashing her heart rate and game points as she did.
After a few practice rounds of flailing and getting her butt kicked, “Warianne” finally started to get the hang of it.
Ari had never been in a man’s sexual playroom, but she had a feeling this was even better. Fifteen minutes into her first game, she was totally hooked, and she loved seeing this playful side of Jared.
“Okay,” she said after she’d landed her first surprise hit, knocking J-Black on his ass. “This is kind of awesome.”
“I’m glad you think so,” he said, pausing the game to take a drink. “Because it’s time to up the stakes.”
Ari knew that look. The one that never failed to instantly flood her core with molten heat. “Strip Brawler? You’re so transparent, J-Black.”
“Winner takes all… of the loser’s clothes. One piece for every knockout. Those are my terms, Warianne.”
“You’re on.”
They sparred back and forth awhile, trading hit for hit, neither of them making any real progress. But a quick error in judgment left J-Black wide open. Immediately Warianne dropped to her knees—thank God for the kneepads—and lunged forward, catching J-Black’s avatar around the legs. The unexpected move sent him skittering backward onscreen, tripping over the curb and landing on the sidewalk, flat on his back.
The video game voice boomed through the speakers. “J-Black! You got housed!”
Ari smirked. “Shirt, Blackwell.”
“I hardly think that’s fair,” he said. From the corner of her eye, Ari saw him turn toward her, just as his avatar stood up on screen. “I was just getting warmed up!”
She lunged forward again, knocking J-Black on his ass a second time.
“Housed again, J-Black!” the speakers boomed. “Your game is off tonight!”
Without taking her eyes off the screen—she’d learned that lesson fast—Ari said, “Your game isn’t the only thing I want off tonight. Lose the pants, J-Black.”
Bared to the Billionaire: The Complete Series Page 17
