by M. S. Parker
Before Gavin had left for his meeting with Vincent, he'd spoken with the front desk and filed a formal complaint regarding our two unexpected visitors. But based on the look I'd seen on the desk clerk's face, it was obvious he didn't believe what had happened had been a mistake. He clearly thought Gavin had just gotten caught fooling around and was trying to make things look better for himself. Everyone else could think that all they wanted, but I knew the truth. Gavin had sworn on his daughter's life. He'd never do that lightly. Skylar was the most important person in his life and being number two to her made me love him even more.
The fact that I knew he wasn't lying didn't make me any less annoyed at his recent behavior. The necklace was a start, but I fully intended to get everything I could out of him, and I wasn't thinking money.
While Gavin was at his meeting, I enjoyed our new room, including the tub where I soaked in lilac-scented bubbles for almost an hour. I didn't bother dressing when I got out, sticking with the complementary hotel robe. I sighed as I wrapped myself up in it. A year hadn't been long enough for me to get used to these kinds of luxuries.
I frowned as I thought it. Why hadn't Gavin told me about the financial situation? I loved that he wanted to support the work I did, but most people who ran pro bono businesses like mine spent time getting donors. Having to do that instead of relying entirely on him wouldn't be a hardship. It's what I would've done if he hadn't offered to pay for everything.
And then there was the whole thing about how the club wasn't making as much as it used to. I hadn't been there since we'd changed it into a regular club, so I hadn't known that attendance was down. I'd assumed that just taking the sex element out wouldn't be detrimental. There were plenty of regular clubs in New York that did just fine. But, I was forced to admit, there were more than a few that declared bankruptcy and closed after only a few months.
When we got home, Gavin and I were going to sit down with the books and I was going to have him show me everything. I needed to know how badly this was hurting us. If he wanted me to think of the money as ours and we were supposed to be partners in the business, he couldn't keep me in the dark anymore. Not that I'd been particularly curious, I acknowledged. All that was going to change, I promised myself. I was going to be more involved and we'd find a way to get things back to the way they had been, even if it meant I had to consider the possibility of bringing sex back into the club. There'd be a lot of negotiation on how that would work, but it was something I knew might need to be discussed.
I heard the door open and pushed aside all thoughts of money and business. This was all personal. I walked into the main area.
“I talked to Vincent and fixed it. He's going to make sure nothing like that happens again.” Gavin took a step toward me.
“Great,” I said, my voice dripping with sarcasm. “I’m so glad Vincent is going to make sure it doesn't happen again.” I crossed my arms. I knew Gavin trusted the man, but I didn't. “And what about you? What are you going to do?” My voice was flat. “Can you fix what I saw? How am I supposed to get that image out of my head?”
He looked wounded. “Carrie, I-I don't know what...” He held out his hands.
“I want you to fix it,” I said. I reached for the belt of my robe and waited until I was sure he was watching before I untied it. “I want you to fix me.”
The expression on his face tightened as I slipped the robe off my shoulders. All I wore was the necklace he'd given me last night.
“Right now, I need you to make me forget everything I saw. I want you to inject me with your mind altering drug… over and over.”
He took two long strides and was right there in front of me. He cupped my face in his hands and kissed me. It started off slow, his lips moving gently, parting mine. Then, as one hand slid to the back of my head, the kiss deepened. His tongue slid into my mouth, thoroughly exploring as if for the first time. Searching and seeking what I was willing to give.
I'd expected something harsh and needy that would get me wet and aroused, ready for sex, but this... this made my knees weak. I remembered our first kiss, how it had made my head spin and my heart beat faster. I'd wanted him then and I wanted him now. Maybe even more.
He wrapped his arms around my waist and lifted me, carrying me to the love-seat. He put me down on the seat and then knelt in front of me. He rested his hands on my knees for a moment and then pushed them apart. His palms slid up my thighs until he was able to curl his hands around my hips. He pulled me toward him, until he was able to lean forward and press his lips just below my belly button.
I shivered in anticipation but didn't rush him. He placed feather-light kisses across my abdomen, then down my hipbones before stopping just above my pussy. His eyes flicked up to me and my stomach tightened at the heat I saw there. Then he lowered his head and licked one long, broad stripe across the sensitive flesh. I moaned as his tongue slipped between my folds and teased at my entrance.
“Fuck,” I breathed as his mouth did all the wonderful things I was familiar with. He knew exactly how to alternate attention between my pussy and my clit, never paying too much attention to either one as he worked me toward climax. His tongue and lips applied just the right amount of pressure to my clit to send ripples of pleasure through me.
When he slid a finger inside, I pushed my hips toward him, wanting more. A second finger joined the first, giving me deep, even strokes as his mouth moved and circled my clit. I cried out when he began to suck on the little bundle of nerves, alternating suction with his thrusting fingers. Then he curled his fingers and made a 'come here' gesture that rocked my world. It was appropriate… it was going to make me come right here.
“Yes!” I practically screamed the word as he repeated the movement, over and over until I came. My muscles tightened, trapping his fingers inside me as an orgasm rushed over me. And still, his tongue kept working over my clit until I was pushing at his head, needing relief from the overstimulation.
He raised his head, but didn't remove his hand from between my legs. He leaned higher and wrapped his lips around one of my nipples. I moaned at the sensation and then gasped as he pushed a third finger inside me. He twisted his fingers, stretching me as his teeth scraped over my breast. I put my hand on his head, running my fingers through his soft hair. His thumb brushed against my clit and my fingers fisted in the silky strands. He groaned against my breast. My free hand rolled my other nipple, trying to match the pull of his mouth, the dual sensations mingling with the pleasure his hand was giving me until I was coming again.
This time, Gavin kept his fingers working until I was begging him to stop. It was too much. I let out a half-sob of relief when his hand withdrew. My pussy and clit throbbed, each pulse sending another wave of pleasure through me. I'd closed my eyes when the climax had started and now, as it began to fade, I opened them again. Gavin had undressed, but was back to kneeling between my legs. His cock was hard, curving up toward his flat, sculpted abs, and at the sight of it, the ache between my legs returned, as if no number of orgasms could satisfy without having him inside me.
He pulled me off the couch and turned me around so I was kneeling, my arms resting where I'd just been sitting. He gripped my hip with one hand and I could feel the other between us, positioning him.
“You want to forget?” he asked quietly.
I nodded. “I want to forget everything that isn't us, right here and now.”
Gavin's hips snapped forward and I wailed. Even as stretched as I was, the sudden penetration sent a shockwave through me. He was so long and wide that he reached every inch of me, stretching me, filling me, until there was no room for anything else. And he didn't stop or wait for me to adjust. His second thrust was as hard as his first and I cried out.
“Yes!”
This was it, this was what I wanted. When he was pounding into me, reaching those places only he could reach, there was nothing else in my mind. Only the way our bodies moved together, how perfectly we fit together. His pace rode that line
between pain and pleasure, keeping my brain from having the capability of focusing on anything else.
My nipples rubbed against the fabric of the couch until they almost hurt, but I couldn't hold myself up against the force of Gavin's thrusts. When his hand slid around my stomach, so the tip of his finger could tease my clit, I swore. My head fell forward. I shook as I came again, but it didn't fade away. As Gavin continued to rub my clit, his rhythm increased. Wave after wave of pleasure washed over me until I could barely breathe. Every muscle in my body was quivering and I could feel my brain struggling to process everything.
With a drawn-out groan, Gavin buried himself deep inside me and came, his arms wrapping around my waist. He slumped over me and pressed his lips against my shoulder blade.
“Did it work?” he asked, his breath harsh against my back.
I frowned, my overwhelmed brain trying to make sense of the words.
“Did I make you forget?”
I chuckled and he hissed as the laughter made all of my muscles contract, including those in my pussy. He was soft inside me, overly sensitive. “Yes, Gavin. It worked.”
“Good.” He straightened and pulled out, hissing as his withdrew. As he helped me to my feet, he lightly touched the necklace I was wearing. “What do you say we put that back in the box and take a nice, long bath while I tell you about the party we're invited to tonight and how I want to show you off.”
I smiled as he slid his arm around my waist and we walked to the bedroom. I never liked fighting, but make-up sex almost made it worth it. Almost.
Chapter 4
Gavin
I watched Carrie as she teased her golden curls into submission, frowning at her reflection. It was her serious face, not her upset one, and it made me smile. I stepped behind her and slid my arms around her waist.
“You're gorgeous,” I said and kissed her temple, breathing in the scent of her conditioner and that extra that was just her. My cock gave an interested twitch despite the amazing sex just a few hours ago. I knew we needed to go to this party, but all I really wanted to do was bend her over the dresser and take her again.
“You're not so bad yourself.” She smiled at me in the mirror. “Help me put on the necklace?”
I took a step back so she could pull her hair up. I reached around her and picked up the necklace. As I fastened it around her neck, I let my fingers brush across the base of her neck. She shivered, and when I leaned down to kiss the place where her shoulder and neck met, a moan escaped.
“Keep that up and we'll never make it to the party.” She turned to face me and wrapped her arms around my neck.
“Maybe that wouldn't be such a bad thing.” I pulled her close so she could feel how much I liked that idea.
She raised to her toes and softly kissed my mouth. “Tempting as that is, you know we have to go. As you said earlier, we need this.” She took a step back, then reached down between us and cupped my now very-interested cock. “Save this for after.”
I let out a breath and ran a hand through my hair as she moved away to find a pair of shoes. I wondered how long we'd have to stay before we could make our excuses and leave without insulting anyone. Then again, I thought with a touch of humor, Vincent might be understanding if I told him I wanted to leave so I could fuck my girlfriend into next week.
“So, where's this party?” Carrie asked as she straightened.
“The Hotel Majestic Barriére,” I said. “And have I mentioned how amazing you look in that dress?”
“Once or twice,” she said with a smile. “Though it never hurts to hear it again.”
“Well, you do,” I said. The women at the boutique where we'd gotten the dress Carrie had worn last night had been thrilled when I'd called and asked them to send over their second choice. It was just as perfect as the other one and matched her necklace as if they'd been made together.
“Let's go,” she said. “The sooner we get there, the sooner we can leave and you can get me out of this amazing dress.”
I smiled, knowing we were thinking along the same lines meant more to me than the promise of sex. Carrie and I had seemed so out of sync recently, it was a relief to know we still had it.
The Hotel Majestic Barriére was impressive, but I could only think about how much I wanted to be back in the room with Carrie. As we entered the event room, however, I forced myself to focus. Vincent had said the deal was set, but I still wanted to make a positive impression on the people here. I knew that in any business, no matter how iron-clad the contract, the right word from the wrong person could end it all.
“Gavin!” Vincent came toward me with a huge smile on his face.
Neither Felice nor Marguerite were with him so I breathed a sigh of relief. “Vincent.” I smiled and held out my hand. He shook it heartily and then turned to Carrie. “This is Carrie Summers, my girlfriend and partner at Club Privé.”
“It's a pleasure to finally have a face to go with the name.” Vincent took Carrie's hand and gave a little bow before kissing it. “And what a lovely face it is.”
“Thank you.” Carrie sounded a bit stiff, but I doubted anyone other than me would notice. “It's nice to finally meet you as well.”
“I'd like you both to meet a friend of mine.” Vincent straightened and extended his hand behind him.
The woman who stepped forward wasn't what I expected at all. I'd assumed most of the women who spent time with Vincent were like Felice and Marguerite. Early twenties and looking like some sort of college sorority girl. This woman, however, wasn't like that at all. Sure, she was drop-dead gorgeous, the kind of woman who would've looked at home on a runway, but that was the only similarity. The woman currently giving me and Carrie an appraising look was in her thirties, maybe a bit older if she was one of those perpetually youthful kinds of people. She was dressed in a long, elegant gown that flattered her slender figure and managed to be tastefully simple while still being apparently expensive. She had sleek, dark hair pulled back from her face and eyes a shade of brown so dark that they almost looked black.
“Alizee Padovani,” she said in heavily accented English. She shook my hand with a firm handshake many women in business tend to get after a while. No matter how much progress was made, business was still a predominantly male-dominated field. Unfortunately, women had to often work harder to prove themselves. A firm handshake went a long way in not appearing weak.
“Gavin Manning and Carrie Summers.” I put my arm around Carrie's waist to make our relationship clear.
“Pleased to meet you,” Alizee said.
She turned to Vincent and rattled something off in what sounded almost Italian. It wasn't strange for Europeans to be multi-lingual, but I wasn't quite sure what language she was speaking. Vincent replied in the same language and then chuckled. It was odd, I thought, how respectful Vincent was being with Alizee. She seemed exactly like the kind of woman he normally enjoyed ogling.
“So sorry,” Alizee apologized as she looked at me, a quick glance toward Carrie included her as well. “That was rude of me. I was simply telling Vincent that I must be going.” She gave both Carrie and me a nod. “I’m sure I will be seeing you over the course of the next few days. Good night.”
Vincent waited until Alizee was out of earshot before speaking again. “Alizee is a very wealthy business woman from Corsica.”
That explained the language thing. While the official language was French, there was a Corsican language and if she was mingling with some of the old money families on the island, being able to speak it would definitely be a plus. I hadn't realized Vincent knew the language as well.
“She owns a dozen or so of the most successful bars and clubs along the Rivera, which means she can either be our worst competition or an ally.”
“An ally?” Carrie asked. “It seems to me that anyone who is trying to reach your same target customers would be competition, no matter how friendly.”
“Smart woman.” Vincent gave Carrie the kind of charming smile that would've b
othered me if he'd been more her type. “In most businesses, this would be true, but one of the reasons I wished to open a branch of Club Privé here is that none of Alizee's clubs cater to exactly that particular clientele.”
I snagged two glasses of champagne from a nearby waiter's tray and handed one to Carrie. She took it but barely glanced at me as she continued to question Vincent.
“A lot of sex clubs have issues with underage girls and prostitutes. What measures are you going to take to make sure everything at the club is legal and consensual?”
I tried not to wince at her words. At least she hadn't mentioned Howard's involvement back home.
“That is indeed a problem many clubs face, no matter who they serve.” Howard's expression was the perfect combination of serious, enough for Carrie to know he wasn't blowing her off, but not severe or forbidding enough to completely bring down the mood. “I have actually budgeted for extra security, whose main purpose will be to ensure that all activity is legal, safe and consensual.”
Carrie looked reluctantly impressed. I had to admit, I was too. I hadn't expected Vincent to have anything in place already. I'd fully planned on needing to have a discussion with him regarding prohibiting prostitutes from working the club.
“In fact,” Vincent continued. “If you would like, I could introduce you to the man who will be the head of security.”
“I'd like that,” Carrie said, glancing up at me.
I nodded and put my hand at the small of her back as we followed Vincent through the crowd. Her skin was soft against the palm of my hand and my blood heated with the touch.
As we walked, Vincent would pause every so often to speak with someone, offering them a handshake and a hearty smile. He always introduced us both as the partners in his newest business venture and never made it seem like one of us was more involved than the other. To my surprise, he didn't make a single sexual comment to any of the people he talked to, not even when one of the women overtly flirted with him. He was every bit the gentleman and I wondered which part of him was the real Vincent Paoli. Who did he put on an act for, the group or the individual? And if the leering wasn't who he really was, why did he think that was the type of person I wanted to deal with?