“Very well,” he said, stepping from behind the wine-coloured velvet curtains. He looked distinguished in full tuxedo.
I was speechless.
The sheer nerve of the man, the audacity. I could have throttled him.
“Zander Shaw – I might have known.”
“Ta-dah!” he said. “Surprise!”
“What the hell are you playing at?” I asked.
“I wanted to see you again, is that such a crime.”
“No, it’s not, but you could’ve taken the normal route and asked, rather than drag me through this elaborate charade.”
“Very well said, Cammie.” He moved across the room slowly, like a panther preparing to attack its prey. “You look devastatingly beautiful when you’re angry – it’s one of the reasons I’m so attracted to you.”
It had only been forty-eight hours since we’d last crossed paths. The guy must have it bad. “A simple phone call would have sufficed,” I fumed. “Rather than me dressing up like some sort of masked slut.”
“You play the part of the masked slut so well.”
My mouth gaped open. “I beg your pardon.” If he came any closer, I’d give him a black eye. “Watch your mouth, Zander.”
I tore the mask off and threw it to the floor.
“Ah, there you are,” he said, grinning, his white teeth sparkling. I was loath to admit it, but if the Oxford English Dictionary was ever to describe that infuriating devil may care attitude, the name Zander Shaw should be set right next to it.
“What the hell am I doing here?” I asked. “Do you know how much effort I’ve gone to this evening, and for what? To prance about this place like a Princess.”
“You were intrigued enough to come, not knowing who was waiting here for you.”
“What can I say?” I replied. “I like to live dangerously.”
“As do I.” he said.
“You could still have phoned,” I said.
“I had every intention of seeing you again, but I came out of the shower to find you’d run out on me. But that’s all in the past,” he said, dismissing me. “What will we do now you’re here and so eager to play?”
“Don’t flatter yourself, Zander.”
“Am I wrong?” He arched his eyebrow, reminding me of someone, but I couldn’t put my finger on who.
“Call Jensen, I want to go home.”
“Now, now, Cammie. Don’t be too hasty in your retreat – at least stay for one drink, loosen up a little. It’s not as though we’re total strangers, well not in the carnal sense anyway.”
“You were just a fuck, and had I known you’d come chasing after me like some lovesick puppy, you wouldn’t have got me into your fancy suite, never mind into my panties.”
He rubbed his hands together. “You’re going to get me hard if you carry on.”
“Good!” I replied. “You can spend the rest of the evening amusing yourself.”
“You have such spirit,” he said, a lilt of amusement in his voice. “Marry me.”
“What?”
His ego was larger than life.
“You heard me – marry me.”
“Are you mad?”
“Not in the true sense of the word, no, but madly in lust.”
“IN LUST,” I shouted, wanting to kick him in the nuts.
“Very much so.”
“And you really think I’ll walk down the aisle with any man who wants me purely for sex?”
“There are worse reasons to get married.”
“And there are more romantic ones too.”
“You may be financially secure, especially after what I paid for your company, but I’m extremely rich, Cammie.”
“Then you can buy yourself a mail order bride. I hear Thailand has a great selection.”
He sniggered. “I could, but why would somebody like me settle for second best?” he said.
“I want you to call Jensen, right now.”
“Are you truly offended?”
“Do you really have to ask?” My blood was boiling at the sheer audacity of the man. “You’re the most pompous, arrogant prick I’ve ever had the misfortune to waste my time on.”
He wasn’t fazed in the slightest. “My dear, Cammie, you can handle a boardroom full of the most misogynistic of business men, but I offer you marriage and the chance to enjoy untold wealth and it offends you. You really ought to know when you’re onto a good thing – most women would bite my hand off.”
“I cannot be bought, get it.”
“Everybody has a price – even you.”
I’d had enough of his smugness.
Striding toward him, his expression changed. A look of amusement settled on his face. Then he tilted his head, as though I was a little fluffy kitten he could play with. His eyebrow arched again. My temper was now at breaking point. We were face to face.
“You couldn’t afford me, Zander.”
“Oh, we’ll see about that, Cammie.”
I pulled my hand back and slapped him across the face, as hard as I could.
He made a long low sound and tugged at the throbbing bulge in his trousers.
A trickle of blood ran down his nose. “Oh, my God, I’m so sorry,” I shrieked, horrified, and a little sickened by the sight of his blood. “Please, let me…”
He held up his finger to silence me and pulled a handkerchief from his jacket pocket, dabbing at the blood.
“I’m impressed,” was his only response. “You don’t take any prisoners, do you?”
I was incredulous. “Are you okay?”
He smirked at me.
As well as untold arrogance, Zander Shaw had movie star looks, and more charisma than one man deserved. “I quite liked it.” He licked his lips and winked at me. “You can do it again, if you want to."
“I’m sorry I hit you.”
“Don’t be,” he said. “There is a very thin line between pain and pleasure, and I like to walk both lines.”
I was infuriated and tired of his games, but as much as I fought, something about him drew me in.
I knew I was stepping into the lion’s den.
Trying to resist the pull, he stepped closer to me and like a damsel in distress, I fell straight into his arms.
“I don’t want…”
Then, without warning, his lips crushed mine.
I was lost in the moment, all thoughts of Jensen obliterated.
“I’m going to bend you over and fuck you all night,” he whispered into my ear.
All sense now cast aside, I let go, allowing the dirty bitch within to come forth. “I want you inside me, Zander,” I moaned, as he gripped hold of my ear lobe with his teeth, biting down a touch too hard. I didn’t cry out in pain, enjoying the new sensation, coupled with the wetness between my legs.
His hand travelled down.
“Ah, crotchless,” he moaned. “You knew what would happen tonight, didn’t you?”
“I-I.” He slid his fingers inside me, taking my breath away. I was rendered speechless, totally powerless.
“I want to lose myself with you, Cammie.” He pulled me tighter into him, grabbing a fistful of my hair.
“Oh, Zan…” My whole body shook as his fingers brought me close to climax.
“I can’t get that night out of my mind.”
He crushed his lips against mine once again, his tongue slipping into my mouth. I pressed myself tighter against him as he continued to explore with his fingers.
“I’m gonna cum,” I cried.
“Not yet,” he replied, slowly pulling his fingers out, bringing them to his lips. He licked at his fingers, his very own cuntcicle.
Savouring the moment, his stare was locked in.
I was captivated by him, almost hypnotised.
“You make me feel so alive,” I moaned.
Then, he pushed his fingers into my mouth, forcing me to taste myself.
“But once I allow you to let go, you’ll never want anybody else again.”
Chapter Thirteen<
br />
Jensen unlocked the door to the secret passageway.
The musty smell told him the hidden corridor had remained unexplored for many years.
Closing the door behind him, he used the torch on his phone for light, then climbed the stone stairs quietly.
If he remembered correctly, from the vantage point he was approaching, he’d be afforded a full view of the drawing room.
It had been at least fifteen years since he’d last been in here.
His father discovered him sneaking about.
“Nosey people discover things they don’t really want to know,” was all he said, and he was right.
Not long after, his mother was killed in an accident whilst holidaying in Portofino with friends, and in his father’s grief, the house was boarded up and abandoned for years.
He was exiled to boarding school in Scotland, until entering the exclusive Eton College at thirteen.
Leaving the house behind was probably the best thing for him. Memories of his mother were embedded within every room, and looking back, as shattering as it was losing his mother, he understood how losing his beloved wife must have felt for his father. He held no ill will against him – he did what he thought best.
It had been ten long years and Jensen still missed his mother.
Walking through the poorly lit passageway, he distinctly recalled her kind face and beautiful green eyes.
Six years after his mother’s death, his father, still mourning his wife’s passing, succumbed to brain cancer, and Jensen was suddenly an orphan.
He considered himself luckier than most as he still had his elder brother, but Zander, or Alexander, as he was known back then, was at an age where he was more interested in the family business and girls, than raising his barely adult brother.
Jensen channelled his grief into his education, walking away with top grades in every subject. He left education behind at eighteen. Then, as expected, he joined the family firm, but not in the position most people would have assumed.
He knew the value of what he stood to inherit, but money had never ruled his life. One day, he would use his position to divert some of the company’s seven and a half billion pounds towards more charitable causes.
Even though he was living on an allowance, he was still considered independently wealthy, but for the time being at least, he was happy to chauffeur his brother around.
It wouldn’t be forever.
In time, he would have had his own office at a location of his choosing, but he didn’t need to worry about any of that right now. Zander, even as narcissistic as he was, took the company from strength to strength meaning he’d be looked after for life.
Forbes Magazine had declared Jensen this year’s World’s Most Eligible Billionaire. High praise indeed, but he didn’t want, or need any title and was happy existing in his own little bubble and loathed becoming gossip column fodder. What the press didn’t realise was, under the terms of his father’s will, Jensen wouldn’t inherit his share of the family estate until he turned twenty-five.
Right now, his allowance, which was more than generous and probably higher than most people’s yearly incomes, afforded him the opportunity of spending time with Zander, whether he wanted it or not.
Jensen’s penthouse apartment was spectacular in its simplicity. It centred him. So, when he wasn’t driving Zander around, forced to listen to his inane chatter, his leisure time was spent reading historical novels, or pumping iron in his private gym, keeping both mind and body, fit and healthy.
Working trips abroad were frequent, but he rarely enjoyed them.
Driving around foreign cities frustrated him, but the only reason he did it was to try and maintain some semblance of a relationship his with brother.
Jensen worshipped him and had done from childhood. That hadn’t changed, but Zander’s increasing indifference to him hurt his feelings and bothered him more than he would readily admit. There was only two of them left, and family was important to him. He wished Zander felt the same.
Their relationship was never straight forward and there was always a bone of contention that existed between them as Jensen was never shy of informing his elder brother of his many shortcomings.
Jensen found Zander’s Playboy lifestyle tacky.
Yes, he was good looking and rich, and women threw themselves at him, so of course he was going to act on it. Zander was a red-blooded male, single, rich, and could date who he wanted, but the way in which he treated women, like they were invaluable commodities sickened Jensen. He’d seen one too many heartbroken women tossed aside like trash.
For Jensen, he wanted what his parents had been blessed with. True love. Yes, he was only twenty-two, and at his age, he should be out fucking everything with a pulse. He’d been there, done that, blowing his load in women, and a few select guys, across seven continents, but it always left him feeling empty, worthless even.
When he allowed his imagination to run riot, he was side by side, blissfully happy with the woman of his dreams. He always believed she was out there, and today, he walked into that woman’s life, before leading her like a lamb to the slaughter, to the mercy of Zander Shaw, his narcissistic brother.
Chapter Fourteen
I lay back on the full-sized snooker table.
The mask was back on, but my beautiful dress lay on the floor. I’d kept everything else on, Zander wanted it that way.
“You’ve cast a spell over me, Camilla Childs.” His head was perilously close to my pussy.
“I did nothing of the sorrrrrrrrt.” I cried, throwing my head back, as his tongue penetrated the pink fortress. He was right there – hitting the spot most men couldn’t find with a map and compass. His tongue ploughed deeper into me, making me squirm.
He looked up. “You like that, don’t you?”
I replied breathlessly. “Don’t stop, Zander.”
And he gave me what I’d asked for. The intensity was almost overwhelming, and I thanked God I was flat on my back as I knew my knees would have buckled at first lick.
Then, I felt something I’d never imagined – yes, I’d read about it in my women’s magazines, but to experience it seemed so unreal.
Zander looked up at me, his face dripping.
I didn’t know how to feel.
“Wow,” he said.
I’d she-jaculated.
“I’m so sorry,” I said, embarrassed. “That’s never happened before.”
“There is nothing to apologise for.”
“But, I-I…”
I didn’t even want to say it, so pointed to his face.
Zander laughed out loud. “Never apologise, Cammie.”
“It’s just…”
I was silenced again.
He climbed to his feet and pulled me up, before drawing me in for the most passionate kiss I’d ever experienced.
He didn’t seem to care my juices were all over his face, and right then, neither did I.
The eroticism of the moment surpassed every other emotion I was feeling.
I didn’t want more, I needed it.
Jensen felt sick to his stomach, as he spied Cammie, writhing around like a whore, on the snooker table.
He hated seeing her behaving like the palace concubine, summoned to sate her master’s desires, but he couldn’t help being aroused by her naked body. She had the most flawless body and perfect breasts.
He wanted what Zander was having – the thought of biting her nipples made his cock throb all the more. But, pleasuring himself was wrong. He felt guilty and wished he hadn’t been witness to their frantic fucking.
Stuffing his cock back into his trousers, he closed his eyes, trying to erase the images burnt into his mind.
His arousal lessening, he felt immense disappointment in Cammie and would have put serious money on her resisting Zander, and his sleazy advances.
He’d been watching from the balcony, partly concealed by the huge mahogany bookshelf.
At first, he’d been aroused by their
flirting, but when it came to the crunch, hearing her moaning with satisfaction from his brother’s touch, made him recoil in jealousy, anger and frustration.
“That fucker always gets what he wants,” he muttered.
There were hundreds, perhaps thousands of sex hungry sluts around the globe, craving Zander’s attention, so what was so special about this one? Jensen couldn’t fathom it.
She’d melted at his touch, he could see that, as he spied her writhing around under his touch.
“Same old routine, and she’d fallen for it, hook, line and sinker,” he said, with a snarl.
At that moment, Zander looked up.
Jensen tried to conceal himself behind a bookshelf, but the smile on his brother’s face told him all he needed to know – Zander knew he had an audience and liked it.
Turning toward the secret door, he winced as Cammie’s screams of pleasure bounced off the four walls.
Chapter Fifteen
The first time felt amazing, but after the fourth time, I was well and truly shattered. Zander Shaw really could fuck like a porn star. I’d never felt anything like it. Sexy, muscled, hung and the stamina of an Olympic athlete, if I was on the lookout for another husband, he just might be the perfect candidate. But, he wasn’t marriage material.
I’d spent the last fourteen years of my life playing second fiddle to my husband’s latest tart.
Being second best wasn’t something I ever planned on accepting from another man, so I needed to put a cap on my emotions. It was easy for me to get carried away, but I was now rich in my own right. The world was my oyster, and I intended to explore every part that held interest for me.
“It’s late, and I really do have to go,” I said, climbing back into my dress.
Zander approached and without being asked, zipped me up, kissing the nape of my neck.
Oh, God, I can’t do this again.
“You can stay the night if you wish?” he offered. “There are plenty of rooms, and if it makes you happy, I can have the orchestra play you to sleep.”
Oh, that beautiful orchestra.
“I’d love to, but I still have work to do, and it’s gone midnight.”
By Invitation Only- The Series Page 5
