Hot Tycoons Boxset: A Contemporary Romance Boxset

by Emelia Blair

  The flash of hatred in his eyes doesn’t faze me.

  “Let’s go, Eve. We’re done here.” Zayn nods to a fuming Frank and drags me away.

  My tongue is ready to strip away a layer of Zayn’s skin if he dares to reprimand me for what just happened but he doesn’t utter a word.

  I glare at him, and he pretends to ignore it.

  I am quickly distracted though at the sight of Dina, who wears a look of relief on her face.

  I sigh.

  Time to open Pandora’s box.

  Lorraine doesn’t remember much from the night.

  She remembers our interaction.

  Her wrists should have ached from the way she had furiously scribbled on the pad.

  A woman’s voice.

  She heard a woman’s voice, and she saw a slender figure standing in one of the classrooms she thought to be locked, shrouded in darkness.

  And after that point, she remembers nothing.

  I stand in the kitchen, staring blankly at the carrot I am supposed to be chopping.

  Zayn is poring through the legal document that binds Elijah and me in our partnership. Whereas I refused to hand it to him to inspect, his father was just amused and sent him a copy.

  “It’s pretty much cut and dry.” Zayn sounds disgusted, almost as if he was hoping that his father is trying to screw me over so that he could wave it in my face with an ‘aha.’

  I would have rolled my eyes at him if I had been paying attention to him, but my mind is on what Lorraine said, lying in bed, her grim-faced mother standing next to her like a dragon guarding her charge.

  “There was no sign of a woman in the building,” I say, loudly.

  Zayn glances up at me. “She might have slipped out.”

  I pick up the knife and then bring it down on the carrot in a loud thud, making him blink at me.”

  “Could it be one of your ex-girlfriends?”

  Zayn snorts at that. “I don’t have ex-girlfriends. I have ex-one-night-stands, and I doubt they would be gunning for you. If they have a vendetta, they’d come for me.”

  I chop the carrots into tiny pieces, complaining, “I don’t know why they’re calling me a whore when clearly you’ve embraced that role with such gusto.”

  Zayn snorts. “Doesn’t count if I’ve been practicing celibacy for the better part of the past year.”

  “Celibacy, my ass,” I mutter, moving on to chop the peppers now. Then, a wicked look in my eye, as I say, slyly, “Not anymore, you’re not.”

  I don’t know why I push him but the heated look in Zayn’s eyes makes my breath hitch.

  The predator in him is showing and the admiring gaze in his eyes makes me feel pleased, satisfied at being the sole focus of him.

  God, I am going to have to do something about this streak of possessiveness growing in me.

  Zayn isn’t mine.

  He wants to be, though, a sly voice whispers in my head.

  He hasn’t moved from his seat, watching me with an unnatural stillness that has my mouth running dry, the look in his eyes is like a physical touch, and I have to force myself not to go to him. Those eyes demand submission, and if I have to bare my throat for anyone, I know it would be him.

  My feet are glued to the floor, however. I am terrified of taking this step and yet I can already feel his hands on my skin, phantom hands, stroking, coaxing, pushing me over the edge, claiming my pleasure, branding my skin with his marks of ownership.

  When did I put the knife down, I wonder, as my feet move towards the man who haunts me every second of the day.

  Bad idea, a voice inside me warns.

  But the satisfied look in his eyes makes it worth it. It is smug, and I like it.

  He is sitting on the high stool on the other side of the island counter, and he parts his legs, letting me walk till I am standing between them.

  He tilts his head in that strange way he sometimes does. It is oddly endearing, curiosity in his eyes, mixed with dark desire.

  He is leaving this up to me.

  I have to approach him.

  My hands move to his hair, running through the locks, and I sigh. “You’re not going to make this easy for me, are you?”

  The slow smile that paints his lips gives me all the answers I need. They feed my hunger, making me ache inside.

  It annoys me as well that he isn’t doing anything, just watching, patiently.

  However, two can play this game.

  I can tell he wants me.

  But he wants me to tell him what I want verbally.

  And I refuse to.

  The sadist in me finds pleasure in taunting him, seeing how far I can push till he finally breaks down and takes me over and over again.

  Trembling as I imagine Zayn pushing me against the door, stuffing my dripping pussy with his fat cock, my fingers move to the first few buttons of the shirt that I wear.

  The bra I wear is a deep red and his gaze shifts to my breasts as I slowly unbutton my shirt. The shorts I am wearing are black, but I make no move to remove them. Have to give him something to take off later on.

  Gathering my long hair up, I pull it into a makeshift bun, picking up the pen he was using before and using it to secure the rough looking bun that I know Zayn finds very attractive.

  His eyes sharpen when I move to his shirt now, and he doesn’t resist, even lifting his arms, ever so helpful in my attempt to get rid of his shirt.

  “Well,” he sounds darkly amused. “You got my shirt off. What are you going to do with me?”

  His words are a throaty roar, tinged with want, dripping with a carnal desire that he chains up inside, a chain that I want to break.

  He watches me through hooded eyes as my shirt slips down my shoulders to rest at my elbows, half of my upper body bare for his inspection, and look he does.

  I move forward till my hands rest against his chest, and I spread my fingers in his coarse hair, exploring.

  “Since you want to sit there looking pretty, I guess I can do what I want,” I muse.

  I lean over and press a kiss to his jaw and then another one, and another one till I am lavishing the column of his throat with soft kisses, licking and sucking at leisure.

  There is something powerful about him just sitting there and letting me.

  His hands come to settle on my hips, and they tighten every so often. So tightly pressed am I against him that I can feel the bulge in his pants hardening.

  Unable to help myself, my lips are pressed against his shoulder, and I sink my teeth in, a bruising bite, careful not break skin, but making sure it stings.

  He makes a hissing sound, and I hide my smirk against his skin when I feel his hard cock pressing urgently against me through his pants.

  However, I am not expecting him to snake his hand into my hair and grip it tightly, pulling it back in a grip that is both harsh and yet has my heart pounding wildly.

  “Are you sure you want to play this game, Eve?”

  His tone is soft, so very soft, and I see the dark part inside his eyes lurking, watching with anticipation.

  “I could break you.” His nose comes down to skim along my exposed throat and plants an open-mouthed kiss at the hollow of my neck. “It will be the most exquisite of pleasure, along with pain. You won’t be able to tell either apart, and you’ll come to crave both.”

  I swallow as he keeps giving me soft tingling kisses.

  “This time, when I fuck you, I’m keeping you.”

  I grit my teeth, finding my voice. “I’m not a thing to be kept.”

  He makes an amused sound. “No? Didn’t you just mark me, stating your claim over me?”

  He grips my jaw lightly with his teeth and breathes. “I would gladly wear your marks on my skin. Let the world know you own me.”

  I feel a thrill run in me at the words. “Do I? Do I... own you?”

  He tightens his grip in my hair, wrenching it back till my back arches, my breasts on complete display for him.

  A sound of sati
sfaction. “I’d say you do.”

  When his mouth presses right above where the soft curve of my right breast begins, I shudder. He suckles there, leaving behind throbbing skin which I know for sure is going to be a dark spot in the morning.

  “I’d say you have my leash in your hands.”

  As he presses kisses against all available skin, his free hand moves down to rub against my shorts, against the spot where my pussy is. Using the heel of his hand, he rubs gently, making me tremble.

  “You didn’t answer my question, Eve,” he reminds me, playfully biting at my nipple through my bra, tugging at it with his teeth.

  My hands go to his hair, and I struggle to breathe, demanding, “Do you always talk this much during sex?”

  His grip on my hair vanishes, his hand moving to my nape till we are on eye level.

  His smile is sardonic. “We’re not having sex yet.”

  I am dripping at his ministrations, and when he suddenly dips his fingers into my shorts and two fingers slam inside my soaking pussy, making me cry out in shock and sharp pleasure, he gives me a pleased look. “I’m just fucking you with my fingers.”

  My lips part as he scissors his fingers inside me and I grip at him.

  I knew I had lost then.

  He carefully took control of my seduction, and now I am the one being seduced.

  Suddenly his fingers are out of my pussy, leaving me feeling so bereft till I find myself being lifted. There is the sound of something crashing on the floor and then I am sprawled on the suddenly empty island counter.

  My shorts are pulled off of me and tossed on the ground, and now Zayn is watching me with a hungry look in his eyes.

  I don’t move from my position, watching as Zayn prowls towards me, and then he leans down to kiss me.

  There is something so raw and intimate about the way he licks into my mouth, tasting the coffee I had an hour ago, sucking on my tongue in a way that has me losing my mind. When I try to lift myself, to fight for dominance in the kiss, his hands push me back, warningly, and it excites me.

  I go limp in his hold, letting him explore my mouth at his leisure as I make small mewling sounds in response. I am running out of air when he pulls away, and my dazed eyes follow him as he walks around me, looking at my body displayed for his benefit.

  I don’t shy away from the way he looks at me.

  Reaching my legs, he pulls me forward, and then his lips twist. “This should be a good time to warn you the gardener is outside so you might want to keep your voice down.” His tone grows suggestive. “Or you could scream yourself raw. Let him hear you as you come into my mouth.”

  My chest heaves at the picture he paints. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

  He raises a brow, not needing to say anything.

  His hands reach my ankles, and suddenly my legs are being forced apart and Zayn lowers his mouth to my most intimate area and proceeds to eat me out, using his fingers to spread me open.

  I am going to make a mess on the counter, I think in a daze before he robs me of all my thoughts as he fucks me with his tongue, his teeth occasionally coming to press against the tiny bundle of nerves.

  I am being reduced to a quivering, gasping wreck; my hand clamps over my mouth as he licks and sucks my pussy. My whole body curves up, his teeth clamping onto my clit. Unable to handle the assault, I find him forcibly yanking my hands away from my mouth with his free hand.

  “I want to hear you.”

  My muscles contract as his tongue thrusts inside me, repeatedly, ruining me, destroying me. My hips move on their own, milking his fingers for all the pleasure I could get.

  It is the dark amusement in his gaze as he watches me. The thread snaps and I cry out, a broken sound, as I come.

  His mouth is on mine, and I taste my essence on my tongue, giving me a sweet kiss, letting me come down from this high. His kisses are drugging, addictive, his taste making me want more, but he presses a hand on my shoulder, forcing me back.

  I hear the snap before I feel the cold brush of something hard against my breasts. My eyes fly open when I realize what Zayn just did.

  My bra lays on both sides of me, cleanly cut in the center with scissors.

  Horrified, I glare at him. “That was my favorite one, you asshole!”

  He doesn’t even try to look guilty. “It was in the way.”

  I struggle now, anger overtaking my feelings, but he isn’t having any of it. His hand comes to my throat, tightening. “I’m not done yet.”

  The command in his tone, the pleasure in his eyes at seeing me fight against him, makes me submit to him. There is no fear in me, just a desire to obey him, along with lingering annoyance.

  He kisses my cheek in apology. “I’ll get you a new one, as many as you want. In fact,” he exhales against my neck, “I’ll close the store down, and you can parade every one for me and then when you’re done, I’ll take you to the changing room and fuck you raw in the one that you like.”

  The promise in his voice draws mental images for me that have me whimpering in his hold.

  “I want to take you in so many ways right now.” His hand comes to settle on my breast as he pulls me into an upright sitting position on the counter, my legs wrapped around his waist.

  “I want you on your hands and knees, sucking my cock, naked.”

  My eyes darken, and I suddenly want to do that.

  I want to see him watching me as I use my mouth to drive him wild, to crack that exterior of his till he shatters because of me.

  A hand comes to pinch my nipple and I let a whine escape me as he continues describing what else he wants from me.

  “I’ll handcuff you to the bed and we can experiment with as many toys as you want till dawn. I guarantee you won’t be walking anywhere for a week after that.”

  “Zayn, please.”

  I can’t help it as I beg him.

  His lips curve, and I read the intent in his eyes as he steps back. “Spread your legs. Go on.”

  Sitting on the edge of the kitchen counter, I widen my legs.

  Pleased at how pliant I am being, he asks, a sadistic gleam in his eyes. “Do you want my cock, Eve?”

  I swallow, fighting against the defiance in me which pushes me to tell him to fuck off. This is a submission of sorts, something that I crave from Zayn. Because I need him. I want this.

  So I nod.

  He must have seen the struggle on my face, and he reaches out and touches my face, a gentle whisper, telling me how pleased he is with me.

  “You have to say it, darling. I need your words.”

  I bite my lower lip before saying. “I want it. Please.”

  “Then make yourself come first.”

  I still at his words.

  He pulls the stool nearby out and sits down on it. “I want to see you put on a show for me. Use your fingers and show me how you get yourself off.”

  This is too much.

  Isn’t it?

  However, I find my hands reaching for my pussy as he watches me, intently. “Open it. Show me.”

  The way his jaw tightens tells me enough about his state of mind. He wants his hands on me, but he also wants to play with me.

  I thrust a finger inside of myself, moaning at how sensitive my nerves are.

  His lips part.

  I thrust in another finger, maintaining eye contact with Zayn throughout.

  A powerplay I can do.

  My pace is slow, building up a rhythm, moving in and out, watching him watch me with rapt fascination.

  I am on the edge of the precipice when I feel his hand on my wrist, drawing me out.

  My fingers are in his mouth as he cleans them. Our gaze holds for a brief few moments before he just snaps. Dragging me up against him, this time the kiss is a wild affair.

  As his shirt is tossed off and thrown somewhere before now it’s time for his pants to follow. I can hear myself panting, desperate noises escaping me, gasping out Zayn’s name, half-maddened by desire.

/>   I am dragged off the counter, flipped over till I stand on my feet, my upper body pressed against the cool marble, Zayn’s fingers in my hair as he keeps my cheek pressed against the counter.

  Words are lost as I feel the blunt head of his cock tease my entrance for a few minutes before he slides in with a groan.

  “Fuck. You’re tight!”

  I claw blindly at the counter, needing purchase, something to hold on to. I writhe in his lethally strong grip where he keeps my face forced down in a wonderfully dominant hold, anchoring me to him as he makes sure I can’t move.

  Not that I have to.

  He is doing the work for both of us, his cock pistoning in and out of me at a punishing pace, making me whine and whimper and gasp out, pleas falling from my lips as I beg him to fuck me harder.

  When his chest reaches over to press against my back, his breath hot against my ear, he murmurs filth that has me growing wetter, obscene observations about how I look, about the sounds that are spilling out of me. He murmurs vicious words that make me moan, telling me that there are so many things he could fill in my greedy holes, that I only have to ask.

  Crude and cruel words that are humiliating and yet so freeing. I frantically try to chase a release that feels like it is seconds away, feeling his cock pound into me at a relentless pace, scraping against sensitive nerve endings. His breath is like a brand on my skin, and he keeps biting and sucking, leaving marks on me that I want.

  My vision grows white as I scrabble helplessly at the counter, sobbing as I shatter, crying out his name. Zayn groans, a deep guttural sound, and he immediately pulls out and lets his release on my back.

  Spent, exhausted, I feel his arms around me as he helps me stand up.

  Both of us look wild and he takes a step closer to me, murmuring. “You’ll be sleeping in my bedroom starting tonight.”

  I stare at him with dazed eyes and make a small sound of agreement.

  I walk into this with my eyes open.

  15

  Zayn

  In all my wildest dreams, I never imagined the woman that lays on the bed, passed out. A black silk sheet covers her bottom, leaving her back bare as she lays flopped on her stomach, zoned out, her soft breathing the only constant sound in the room.