by A. C. Arthur
“Then, once you were naked, I’d bend you over this couch so that I could taste you.”
She didn’t reply, thinking if she remained silent, he’d keep talking and the warmth of desire spreading through her veins like wildfire would continue. Her tongue wasn’t as obedient and it snaked out to move over her bottom lip. His gaze immediately dropped, following the action.
“Do you know how you taste, Nina? You’re licking your lips like you recall. Tell me, are you as sweet as I believe you are?”
He was inside her mind. It was an eerie feeling to believe that he could see into her deepest thoughts. Share her memories of when she was alone in the bedroom of her small apartment in York, using her favorite vibrator to find her pleasure. And afterward, when a deep urging inside had her lifting that vibrator to her lips so that she could taste herself.
“Sweet and spicy, like a delicious drink that leaves you feeling just a little light-headed and a lot addicted,” she said with the same confidence she’d felt when she’d presented her app to him.
Now he was licking his lips. She recalled those lips pressing into hers and wanted to feel them again.
“I’ll bet you’re slick and warm right now.”
“And I’ll bet you’re growing just as hard as you were the first time I met you.”
He’d been very hard, like her hand was brushing over steel, warm and enticing steel. The memory had her clenching her thighs together again, but this time the pulsating continued to the point of throbbing.
“If we were really engaged, I’d fuck you on this couch. In that bed. Over that table. Against that wall.”
His voice was gruff as he moved close enough that the side of his body touched hers. Initial contact sent sparks soaring through her, to the point she thought she might just combust with the friction.
“If we were really engaged, we’d have been unable to keep our hands off each other while we were riding in the car.” Because, yeah, she’d wanted to reach out and touch him then, but she’d refrained. Now, she wasn’t so sure they were going to keep playing by those same rules.
Seconds later she had her answer when Major reached out a hand to cup her jaw. He leaned in closer, his gaze once again on her mouth.
“This is the beginning,” he whispered, his breath warm as it fanned over her face. “If you don’t tell me right now that this is not what you want, that you’re only down for the façade we put on in public, I’m going to continue.”
Her hand came up from her lap to press against his toned chest where his heart thumped persistently beneath.
“I won’t object if you continue.” In fact, she might be at the point of begging.
He closed the distance between them, taking her mouth in what she knew was going to be a heated and hungry kiss.
It was delicious, the way her tongue instantly moved to meet his, the way his tangled with hers in a hot duel that felt at once familiar and decadent. He tilted her face as he leaned in closer, deepening the kiss. She moaned and wrapped an arm around his neck. The hand on his chest flattened against his taut pectoral.
“As beautiful as it is, I want this dress off.” The words were a ragged whisper as he briefly pulled his lips from hers. His teeth scraped along her jawline as she tilted her head back to give him better access.
In seconds his tongue was stroking up and down the line of her neck while his words tumbled through her mind. Was he asking permission to take her dress off? Had she already answered him?
She couldn’t think beyond the heated path of moisture moving along her neck and the feel of his hands on her shoulders, going down her arms until they brushed the sides of her breasts. She sucked in a breath and released it on a ragged moan.
The zipper to the dress was on her right side. She could reach it, but she’d have to move her hands from where they’d flattened on his chest and the back of his head. She didn’t want to, but the urge to be naked beneath him was quickly taking charge.
“Now...” he grumbled, lifting her right arm to join the other one locked around his neck.
Whatever he’d said before that one word led to his fingers nimbly easing her zipper down, until the dress felt loose against her chest. He eased away from her and stood, his breath coming in heavy pants that matched hers. Taking her hands, he pulled her to her feet and removed the dress.
For what seemed like much longer than a few seconds, he simply stared at her body. She’d decided against wearing the uncomfortable shaper Lila and her crew had provided earlier. Now she wore only the black strapless bra and matching thin wisp of lace that constituted panties, which had come from the small suitcase the crew had also left in her room. In those seconds, a quick spurt of insecurity shot through her. Did he like what he saw? Was her stomach too round? Were any stretch marks visible?
Swallowing and squaring her shoulders, she said, “Your turn,” and reached for the buttons on his shirt.
He kept his gaze locked on her fingers as she worked along his torso and then to each wrist until she could push his shirt off. She wasted no time lifting the undershirt up and over his head, wanting to touch his warm skin as quickly as possible. Just a shade darker than his complexion, her fingers looked as if they belonged splayed over his muscled chest. She slid her hands across smooth skin, letting the tip of her pointer finger linger on the tight nub of his nipple before moving down to the cut of his abs. When her hands went lower and brushed his belt buckle, he grabbed each wrist.
“Turn around.” The words were gruff and a bit more forceful than anything else he’d ever said to her, sending a rush of pleasure through her body.
She stepped out of the dress and turned until she was facing the couch, her backside vulnerable to his perusal.
“What is this?”
His fingers touched her waist, raising one of six rows of waist beads she wore.
She’d almost forgotten she was wearing them. It was something she’d worn since she was a teenager, changing the colors to match whatever mood she was in at the time. She always wore them as a sign of femininity and also as a way of keeping an eye on her weight.
“African waist beads,” she told him and left off the complete history and function of the beads because his hands were moving around her waist, lifting the beads and caressing the skin beneath.
“I’ve never seen anything so sexy before in my life,” he whispered.
Sensuality was another effect of the beads, so while she’d had a moment of insecurity over the appearance of her body to him, it had quickly been replaced by her own assurance that she was a sensual and desirable woman. Hearing his confirmation that he was feeling the same way was only a boost to the confidence she already possessed.
When his exploration of the beads was over, his hands moved down farther, until his fingers were slipping beneath the lace panties. He pushed them past her hips and down her legs, keeping an arm around her waist to steady her as she stepped free of them. His hand cupped her juncture and he pulled her hard against his body.
“Soft, wet, hot.” He leaned his face down and whispered into the crook of her neck. “Just how I knew you’d feel.”
His fingers separated her folds, easing between to feel the moisture of her arousal.
“So good.” He groaned. “So damn good.”
He wasn’t lying. His fingers, moving so intimately between her legs, felt better than anything she could have ever imagined. When he thrust a finger inside her, she hissed, coming up on the tips of her toes as pleasure shot through her like fireworks.
Her head fell back against his shoulder and she cupped her breasts.
“Let me see ’em,” he mumbled as his teeth nipped her neck.
She pushed the bra down and her breasts were bared. Squeezing them in her hands, she kept her eyes closed while knowing that he was looking down at her ministrations. This position felt wickedly erotic, with him behind h
er, his finger thrusting inside her, his mouth at her neck and his gaze zeroing in on her breasts. She kneaded them harder, being sure to play with her nipples. He groaned, his dick getting harder as it pressed against the slit of her ass.
“I can’t do this,” he said, stepping back from her.
For a second Nina felt confused and incomplete, thinking this interlude might be over before it had really begun.
He pulled his hands from her and, just when she was going to turn and ask what was going on, she heard his belt buckle as he undid it and then dragged down the zipper of his pants. Okay, well, that answered her question. He wasn’t done with her yet, and she was glad. Twisting her arms around her back, she unhooked her bra. She had no idea where he’d gotten it from, but the next thing she heard was the tear of the condom packet. Barely a minute later, he bent her over the couch, her hands planted on the soft cushions as he spread her legs.
“It’s not going to be slow, but it’ll be good. Damn, I can’t wait, it’s gonna be so good.”
“I’m ready for good,” she said and nodded her agreement before sinking her teeth into her bottom lip as desire and anticipation gripped her throat.
He didn’t lie. He thrust into her in one fast, deep stroke that almost sent her soaring over the couch. But she’d planted her feet on the floor and clenched the cushion in her fingers. She did gasp as her body stretched and acclimated to his presence.
“My fiancée,” he said as he pulled out slightly and thrust back in. “You’re my fiancée.”
He pumped fast, in and out, until she was breathless, full and so wet her essence dripped down to her inner thighs.
“Fiancé,” she whispered. “You’re my fiancé.”
They were trying to convince each other and themselves. Taking the charade they’d agreed upon to a level neither of them had anticipated.
“Mine,” he groaned.
“Mine!” she screamed when his hand came around to toy with her clit as he continued to pump into her.
Hard and fast and damn delicious, that’s what this was. Fake engagements, contracts for app usage, bumping into him in the hallway, showing him her waist beads—none of it mattered. Not in these seconds, because there was only this. Only the pleasure that was soaring through her.
When her legs were through shaking, he eased out of her, maneuvering them until this time he sat and she straddled his lap. He ran his fingers over the beads again as she settled onto his length.
“These are driving me crazy. Do you wear them all the time?”
She sighed at the sensation of him filling her once more and circled her hips until his balls pressed against her wet lips. “Mmm-hmm,” she replied.
“All day. Every day.” He talked while he pumped and she gripped her breasts, kneading them as pleasure built inside her once more.
“Let them go,” he told her. “I want to see them bounce.”
She did as he requested and clamped her hands onto his shoulders, bracing herself as his thrusts increased. She matched his movements, riding him until the sound of their joining echoed in the air. He leaned in until the movement of her breasts could slap against his cheeks.
“So good,” he mumbled. “So damn good.”
“Yes!” she yelled when she knew another release was imminent. “Yes!”
“Yes, so...damn...good.” He held her close, his face buried so thoroughly between her breasts she wondered if he could breathe. She came at the exact moment her thighs trembled around him once more.
* * *
She wasn’t his.
This was an arrangement; one designed for their mutual benefit. And since it was a business agreement, there should have been boundaries. Lines that they would not cross. Things they would not do that could interfere with the goals they’d each set.
An hour after leaving her hotel, Major rested his elbows on the desk in his home office and dropped his head with a heavy sigh. He’d messed up big-time.
But he could fix it before his slip endangered the arrangement. The last thing he wanted was for Nina to think he was taking advantage of their business deal, using it as an opportunity to have sex with her. So, he sat straighter in the chair and put his fingers on the keyboard. Nina’s email address was already typed and now he added the subject line: GUIDELINES.
He shook his head and pressed the backspace button. Then he typed again: RULES.
No, that wasn’t going to work, so he deleted that, too.
In all his years, he’d never had to type an email like this. He’d also never left a woman almost immediately after having sex with her.
“I’ll see you in the office at ten,” he’d said after coming out of the bathroom.
She’d been sitting on the couch. While he’d been in the bathroom, she must have gone into the bedroom to grab her robe because it was belted tightly at her waist as she sat with her hands in her lap.
“Right,” she’d replied. “I received the email adding that to the itinerary.”
“Good. Okay. Well then, good night.” The words had come in a clipped tone and he’d walked out of her hotel room, closing the door soundly behind him.
Now he was at his desk, preparing to tell her that what had happened would never happen again. Via email. It struck him then that this might be a tad immature, or perhaps even unnecessary. What if she was having the same never-again conversation with herself right at this moment? What if...he’d really messed up. It never occurred to him that sex with her would be so...so fantastic and intense and, damn, he’d messed up bad. Yeah, he was definitely sending her an email because in person this might turn into a discussion and the boundaries he needed to set for his own sanity weren’t up for negotiation.
FOLLOW-UP.
He stared at the letters for a moment before deleting them, too.
This was ridiculous. Was he really going to tell this grown and exceptionally attractive woman that they couldn’t touch each other again? Because that’s what it was going to take. He’d decided on the ride back to his penthouse that touching her—in any capacity—was only going to make him want her more. There were plenty of couples who didn’t engage in PDA, so that wasn’t out of the ordinary.
But he and Nina weren’t a real couple. They never would be after Stacia’s conniving ways. Major had learned his lesson about being a Gold and trying to have a real relationship.
With that thought, Riley and Chaz immediately sprang to mind. His sister and her boyfriend were always touching—holding hands, Chaz touching her arm, Riley leaning in to him as he said something. All acts that, as Riley’s big brother, made Major uncomfortable to see. But his parents were no different. How many times had he seen his father squeeze his mother’s ass while growing up? He closed his eyes tightly and groaned. The answer was too many for his comfort. But Ron Gold loved his wife Marva without reservation. They were a partnership in love and in business and still going strong after thirty-seven years of marriage.
ADDENDUM.
Major typed the letters and this time didn’t stop typing until a five-item list and two paragraphs were complete.
He hit Send and closed his computer before he could think better of the action. Sex with Nina had been great—if he were inclined to be specific, it was jolting, surprising, tantalizing—but it wasn’t part of the plan. The plan that Major had worked on for far too long to be curtailed by a beautiful woman wearing colorful and sexy-as-hell waist beads that he knew would forever stay on his mind.
CHAPTER SEVEN
“I RECEIVED YOUR EMAIL” was the first thing Nina said when she walked into Major’s office the next morning.
He was sitting behind his desk and had looked up the moment he heard her voice.
“Landra told me to come right in since you were expecting me.” She set her bag on the floor next to one of the guest chairs across from his desk but didn’t take a seat.
; Before getting started with business, she had to say what she’d rehearsed since reading his message at two this morning.
“What happened last night was consensual, just in case you may be thinking you used your Fashion House Playboy vibes to seduce me. You didn’t. I do what I want when I want.”
That came out much better than the dozen or so times she’d said it to the bathroom mirror.
“I’m aware of that,” he replied as he put down the pen he was holding and stared at her. “I just thought it would be a good idea to outline some rules.”
“Rules to outline a charade.” She nodded. “Okay, I can get with that.” She didn’t really have a choice. She wasn’t walking away from this deal and she’d had him once, that would suffice. “I’ve noted each of the rules you’ve set—from the ‘no kissing’ all the way down to the ‘no standing too close to each other in private’—and replied to the questions about my basic likes and dislikes.”
“I saw them.”
But he hadn’t responded. So they were going for the cordial coolness. She could do that, too.
“Good. Now if we’re questioned on the basics of our family, where we came from, schools we went to and future goals, we’ve got that covered.” By habit, she smoothed the gunmetal-gray pencil skirt down before sitting, even though it was so tight it wasn’t moving anywhere without some assistance on her part. This was definitely one of her size-fourteen days.
“They won’t ask us questions like that. All they’re really concerned about is the wedding date and who’ll be designing your gown.”
And yet his email had asked questions like “What’s your favorite movie?” and “Do you read while sitting on your father’s back porch?”
“Well, I’d think that would be obvious,” she said and tried her best not to think of how handsome he looked sitting behind his cherrywood desk in that mammoth burgundy office chair.
