by Eve Black
What was he doing there, and why was he looking at her as though she were on the menu?
You? Only if he’s into plump partridge with a side of snark.
Maybe he was already well on his way to drunk, hitting up the mini bar in his room before venturing out to liquefy women’s panties with a smile.
“What are the odds of bumping into you again?” he drawled, his deep richly-accented voice like a sensual caress over her chest. Her nipples hardened further—if that was at all possible. Like diamonds surrounded by pink areolas. His steely gaze dipped, taking in her lips, then dropping to drift over her breasts, which were still barely confined in the same blouse he’d last seen her in. Dammit! As exhausted and ready for a drink as she’d been, she hadn’t thought about the shirt. Her nipples waved hello, the thin fabric of her bra and shirt doing nothing to hide the erect points from curious viewers.
Hell. If she could, she’d crawl into the nearest hole and wait out Armageddon. She wasn’t typically so self-conscious about what she wore, but she usually wore shirts that fit—she was a professional, dammit!
God, what he must think of her. Her cheeks warmed, the heat of embarrassment spreading down her neck and onto her chest.
His gaze flicked back up to hers, the blaze there barely banked. She swallowed again, offering him a friendly smile.
“At least this time it wasn’t literal,” she finally remarked, damned proud that her voice came out sounding only slightly off-normal.
A crooked smile shaped his mouth, turning her body into warm wax. Human men shouldn’t be allowed such power.
“Are you here with your husband?” he asked, waving down the bartender who arrived seconds later with her drink. “Whiskey neat. Add the lady’s drink as well.”
“Oh no, that’s not necessary—”
He held up a hand to stop her protest, his crooked smile widening. “I insist. I’ll be glad to keep you company until your husband arrives.”
“I don’t have one,” she remarked off-hand, her thoughts jumbled by the way his mouth drew all her focus. Were men supposed to have such full lips? Had he had them injected to get that perfectly plump, kissable, wicked look?
He arched a brow. “No? Boyfriend, then?” Why did something that was probably an innocent question sound a lot less innocent when spoken with a British accent?
And, besides that, what was his deal with her and other men? Did he honestly believe she would have some man waiting in the wings for her? Not a chance. And it wasn’t like she had the time to date let alone the wiles to keep one interested long enough to pop the question. Nope. She was a dating novice, completely out of her element with the sex god seated beside her.
Tensing her shoulders, she just kept herself from scanning the bar again—he must have the wrong woman. He wasn’t talking to her, gazing at her with heat in his eyes.
Sipping her drink, she welcomed the sweet and tangy burn as she shook her head.
“No boyfriend, either,” she answered once the burn in her throat dissipated.
If she thought his smile was killer before, she was nearly struck dead by the wide, sensually predatory grin he settled upon her.
“Then let us keep each other company,” he offered, nodding a silent thanks to the bartender who slid his drink across the bar.
Diana blinked, taking her time to size up her situation.
David Brenner. Billionaire. Sexy as hell. Her boss’s client. Sitting next to her at a bar in the Serata Incantata.
Yup. Definitely out of her element. It took every ounce of chutzpah in her body to keep from rising off the stool and heading for the exit. How would that look? Did it matter if it meant saving herself from abject humiliation? Lord, she had no clue what to say or how to act with a man like David Brenner. Just being near him was a study in human combustion, what would become of her if he truly set his sights on her.
Like that’s going to happen.
He must’ve sensed her misgivings because he drawled, “Come now, Peaches, what would one drink with me hurt? I promise not to bite.” His voice dropped, his gaze flicking from her mouth to her aching breasts. “Though I do find myself craving something sweet.”
She nearly choked on nothing, her hand flying to her chest in the universal symbol of ‘holy shit, what just happened?’
And had he called her Peaches? Choosing to ignore the ridiculousness of his innuendo, she treaded close to the shore, really needing the conversation to remain in calmer waters.
“Peaches?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.
His low chuckle made her pussy throb, and she knew there was a growing puddle in her panties.
“You smell of peaches. I noticed it today by the elevator,” he remarked, and she started.
He smelled her? And he nicknamed her? It took a considerable effort to not let the shock show on her face. Hell, she was quickly swimming into deeper waters—like Michael Phelps aiming for gold.
You loooove the ocean, you hussy, her inner thirsty bitch tittered.
“Ah,” was all she said in reply, since she couldn’t think of a longer word to say.
Unaffected by her obvious lack of social skills, he leaned forward, drawing in a breath. She leaned back, staring at him, unable to stop the gasp that pushed from her chest.
“Absolutely delicious,” he murmured deep in his throat, his eyes closing slowly, as if he were savoring the scent.
She didn’t know which happened first, her blush or the explosion in her vagina, both of which caused seriously irreparable damage to her psyche. She was going to drown fast, sucked into the depths of David Brenner by a whirlpool of lust.
Dragging her drink to her lips, she tipped it back, nearly emptying the thing. She sputtered but recovered, her eyes watering.
When she could see and breathe again, she noticed David studying her, his gaze shuttered.
“What have you done to me?” he murmured, the words so softly spoken, she wasn’t sure he’d spoken at all—well, since her ears were having trouble hearing around the percussion section in her blood.
But as the drinks came and the conversation flowed—chatting about nothing important or personal or professional, she began to relax, laughing and actually enjoying herself. It wasn’t difficult; David was all sexy charm, putting her at ease even though she knew she should be on high alert. Men like Brenner didn’t chat up women like her. She cast a quick glance about the Bella Notte, noting that there were several other women there, all dressed like high-society, low-class sex kittens. She didn’t miss the heated glares they sent her way, their gazes then settling on David. They wanted to be where she was sitting, and she didn’t blame them. David Brenner was every woman’s fantasy, and he was sitting with her. Obviously flirting with her. And she had no idea what to do about it. Not that it mattered; David did an amazing job of drawing her out of herself. There were no names shared, though she, of course, knew who he was only because Margie had spilled the beans just that afternoon. She didn’t care about that, though. He was a man, he was entertaining, he made her smile, laugh, he made her forget about her job, her commute, the tight blouse, and how self-conscious it made her. With David, she was free to feel…like a woman. Just a woman. And it was amazing.
David Brenner made her feel good, and God did she need that.
By the time she’d downed her fourth (or sixth, she couldn’t quite recall) vodka cocktail, she was feeling amazing, so damn amazing that when David Fucking Brenner asked her to end the evening in his bed, she didn’t hesitate, didn’t equivocate about what he really meant, didn’t think twice about her lack of looks or the size of her hips. She quickly and happily replied, “Hell yes.”
David slid a hundred over the bar to the bartender and stood, his gaze hard, hot. He opened his hand, a silent invitation to finally touch him. She took it, reaching out and sliding her fingers into his palm. His hand snapped shut as if he was scared she’d change her mind and he was preventing her escape.
Perhaps she should have seen that as a red
flag, a warning that she was stepping over the barbed wire into a mine field, but she had spent her life on the right side of the fence, refusing to take the risk, to know the adrenaline rush. And who was to say that exploding was a bad thing…especially when it came to sex.
Meeting his gaze, she gave a nod, and he helped her off the stool. She stumbled a bit, her legs having fallen asleep, and she landed against him, his hard chest pressed against her breasts. Beneath her hands, his heart pounded, and she glanced up through her lowered lashes to see his Adam’s apple bobbing. Was he really as affected as that? Feeling bolder than she ever had in her life, she raised her eyes, her gaze colliding with his. Without breaking eye contact, he led her from the bar, across the sparkling lobby, and onto a waiting elevator. Once the doors shut, she was pressed back against the gleaming brass walls, David’s lips skating over her neck.
He inhaled.
“God, I can’t get enough of your scent—I could eat every inch of you,” he growled. “And I will. I’m going to strip you naked, lay you down on my bed, and taste you. My lips, my tongue will be intimately acquainted with your mouth, your breasts, your pussy.”
Her breath caught, and he must have been waiting for just that moment, because the tongue she’d just been imagining on her skin invaded her mouth. David devoured her, his lips hard and then soft as he drove the kiss, his hands skating up her sides to cup her breasts. His thumbs flicked over her sensitive nipples, and she groaned, a sound she’d never heard from her own throat before. He lapped up the groan, answering with one of his own when her hands slid up his chest to his neck to thread her fingers into the hair at the base of his head.
The ding of the elevator and then the nearly silent opening of the doors reminded her of where they were. Shocked at her behavior, she broke the kiss, dragging in a breath to stop her head from spinning.
Pulling her deeper into his embrace, David ground against her, his erection thick granite pressing into her belly. God, he would feel so, so good inside her, she knew that like she knew she would die if he didn’t kiss her again.
David took charge, once again, grabbing her hand to pull her from the elevator. She stumbled behind him, her heart racing, her lips tingling, her body aching for something she couldn’t explain—but she knew, it was David she was aching for, for him to fulfil his promise of tasting her.
And more than that. She wanted that man to thrust her into the world of sexual awakening.
And he will never know your name…
Biting her lip, she forced that thought away. It didn’t matter if David knew her name, it was just one night. She was already risking her job—as a client of her boss, David was off limits. But, who would know? She wouldn’t tell, and she knew David would never admit to sleeping with a woman like her, a woman who was so far out of the realm of his usual woman that she might as well be from Alpha Centauri.
While her brain was racing a mile a minute, David led her to a door at the very end of the beautifully decorated corridor. Using a keycard he pulled from his back pocket, he opened the door, standing back to let her walk in first. She hesitated.
This was it, her one chance to change her mind, to either step over the threshold into beautiful oblivion or to turn around and go back to being the plus-sized pragmatist with a platinum V card.
She met David’s smoldering gaze, the steel in his eyes was molten, liquid want burning over her. Her. When would she ever have a chance like this again?
Making up her mind, she drifted to him, her feet barely touching the ground. The bold woman from before returned as she dragged her hands over his chest then raked her nails over his pecs. God, the man was hard, all taut muscle beneath hot skin. He growled low in his chest, the sound vibrating against her hands. Steeling her resolve, she pressed a kiss to his gorgeous mouth, and murmured, “For tonight, make me yours.”
Chapter 6
Diana slowly came awake. Her mouth dry and scratchy as a loofah, her head pounding like a college marching band was striding through it, and her body deliciously sore. The flesh between her thighs throbbed, a sensation she’d never quite felt before—both wonderful and strange. She turned her head, her eyes adjusting to the gray gloom. She was in a large room, in a large bed… Not her bed in Jersey.
That’s right, she’d been gifted a night at the Incantata. But this room was much larger than the one she’d checked into.
What…
Memories slashed through her sleep-fogged brain and she tensed. In the bed beside her, his thickly muscled arm draped over her belly, David grunted in his slumber.
She drew in a deep, slow breath, holding it.
Shit. Shit. Shit!
She’d slept with David Brenner. She’d fucked David Brenner! And not just that, she’d handed the sexiest man she’d ever met her goddamn “V” card!
Sitting up as much as she could without completely dislodging his arm, she glanced around frantically for her clothes. They were scattered about as if she’d been in a frenzy to remove them.
She lifted her trembling hand, placing it against her forehead, the cold of her palm doing nothing to alleviate the growing panic. She had to get out of there—she doubted he was the kind of guy who ordered breakfast for his no-name one-night stands.
God. I was a one-night stand. Groaning, she immediately quieted. Slowly turning her head, she saw David was still sleeping, the hard planes of his chest rising and falling in a deep rhythm.
Shifting sideways, she slowly slid from beneath his arm, the heat of his flesh and the tickling of his arm hair sending delirious sensations over her sensitized skin. She closed her eyes against the onslaught of desire rising over her, stealing her breath, urging her to remain where she was and soak up every bit of delicious sinfulness she could. To roll over, slide down his impressive body, and take his cock into her mouth. It would be her first time, but damn if looking at it hadn’t made her mouth water. It was thick, long, she could barely get her fingers wrapped around it, so she knew it would make her jaw ache, but she would do it.
But she couldn’t. Their night was over. Her time with David was over. Her body just hadn’t got the memo yet. She closed her eyes, concentrating on extricating herself from the bed and the man in it, then began to move again.
Once her body was dangling from the side of the bed, she maneuvered until her feet were beneath her. She slowly stood, watching him as she moved, hoping he wouldn’t awaken just then to find her naked beside the bed. Her face flushed. Yes, they’d had sex, she couldn’t deny that, but that didn’t mean he actually found all of her fleshy nakedness appealing—though, she’d certainly found all his hard, masculinity as sexy as hell. Biting her lip, she forced herself to step forward and away from the bed.
Silently, she gathered her scattered clothes, dressing in record time. God, why did it feel like she was sneaking out of the locker room after hiding from all the mean girls who liked to poke fun at her cellulite? Because there was shame in her actions, that’s why. But it wasn’t shame in the sex nor than man she’d chosen to have sex with, it was that she had become the cliché—one thing she’s never wanted to be. The woman who was just another notch on a bedpost in a hotel room.
Queasiness began in her stomach and she swallowed it down.
Just before turning to hurry from the room, she paused, her gaze landing on the gloriously naked man in the bed she’d just left. He was spread out, his left arm where she’d been lying, his right arm up over his head, and his long, leanly muscled legs were open, giving her a tantalizing view of his cock. Nestled in a bed of crisp black hairs, his beautiful, thick, veiny cock was standing at half-mast.
Lord, what he’d done with that…
Biting back another groan, she blinked hard and spun away from the sight that would fuel her filthiest dreams for the rest of her life.
The door to his suite closed silently behind her. Taking her phone from her purse, she was shocked to discover that it wasn’t even past 3AM yet. Good. That gave her time to walk-of-shame to her ro
om on the next floor down, take a shower, and try to get some actual sleep before she drove back into New Jersey where her mother and younger sister were awaiting all the juicy bits about staying in such an expensive hotel overnight.
Sure, she’d tell them all about it—except for the part where she’d orgasmed five times with a near perfect stranger.
Back in her room, she undressed, hopped into the shower, scrubbing herself, wondering if she would ever get the feel of David Brenner from her skin. He’d been masterful, his hands touching, caressing, bringing her to greater heights that she’d ever thought possible, and that was even before he got her completely naked. He’d been ravenous, his mouth kissing, licking, and even nibbling her flesh. That spot right beneath her ear, her breasts—she could still remember the sensation of his hot mouth, his wide, wicked tongue, toying with her, sucking her aching nipple into his mouth, his tongue laving the tip and then making tighter and tighter circles, until she was sure she would come just then. But then…he’d kissed his way down her belly, and though she’d been self-conscious about the flab where her belly button was, he didn’t even seem to notice, his eyes devouring the tidy thatch of blonde hairs between her thighs. And that was where she’d wanted his greedy mouth the most. She’d wanted to know what it felt like to have someone caress her clit with their tongue, sucking, biting, flicking it until she fell apart.
And that was exactly what happened. She’d never in her life known such pleasure before, and even then, remembering it, her body responded. Her pussy clenching and throbbing for the invasion of his mouth.
Grunting, both in frustration and mounting lust, she finished her shower as quickly as she could, before sliding between the sheets—probably a million thread count Egyptian cotton sheets—and closed her eyes. But, behind her eyelids, the scene from earlier played out, ratcheting up the heat she’d hope to leach from her body.
