Untied: A Mastermind Novel

by Lydia Michaels

  He wanted his clothes. “I know that, but this is ridiculous. Five hundred dollars’ worth of luggage and God knows how much in clothing.” He wasn’t being cheap. It was the principle. “How do they just lose a person’s personal belongings?”

  “It happens. Come on. Let’s put your carry-on in your room and we’ll visit some stores.”

  He sighed, exhausted. It was still early, but he hadn’t slept the entire flight. “I think I need to rest.”

  “Okay.” She led him to the elevator. “I’ve never been in this hotel before. It’s very luxurious.”

  He’d booked the Four Seasons, unsure how much time he’d be passing in the hotel while she visited with family. Now, limited by his lack of wardrobe, he was grateful for the amenities.

  The elevator dropped them off on the top floor. The tower suite was at the end of the hall, the most private room they offered. As he slid his key into the door, they were greeted by the scent of freshly pressed linens and soap. Nadia gasped as he flipped on the light.

  The large king bed was dressed in ivory and draped in gauzy fabric that hung romantically from the ceiling. Overstuffed club chairs and ottomans faced the foot of the bed. Cozied between the two chairs was a small accent table with a bottle of champagne on ice.

  “This is magnificent,” she said, awe coloring her expression.

  She fell to the bed and the lush blankets rippled in her wake as she stretched and sighed. Shutting the double doors, he placed his lone bag on the chair and stared at her.

  Catching him watching her, she smiled slowly. “You’re staring again, mister.”

  He blinked but didn’t look away. “I can’t help it. You’re beautiful.”

  Her eyes turned shy as her lashes fanned low. Rolling to her hip, she held out a hand. “Come here.”

  Everything inside of him wanted to rush to her while his muscles locked up and held him in place. With halting steps, he approached the bed and placed his hand in hers. She tugged and he sat on the edge of the mattress.

  No matter how much he tried to appear relaxed around her, he wasn’t. Crawling beside him, she crept to her knees and he drew in a breath as she slid her leg over his lap and straddled his thighs.

  “Wh—what are you doing?”

  “Are you always so tense?” Her warm breath fanned over his cheek and his body hardened. “Relax.” Her body lowered and he grunted, mortification choking him. There was no way she’d miss his raging hard-on sitting like that.

  His hands hovered at her hips a moment and then touched down, catching her weight. “You should get back—”

  “Hush. We have plenty of time.”

  For what? Several seconds passed, rife with excruciating intimacy as she looked directly into his eyes. His heart hammered like a metal mallet in an empty room, echoing throughout his body.

  “Nadia…”

  “Elliot?”

  “I don’t know what your intentions are, but—”

  “My intention is to help you relax.”

  She was doing the exact opposite.

  Delicate fingers loosened his tie and she whispered, “This is a lot of hotel for one man. You might get lonely here all by yourself.”

  You can keep me company. Fuck, he was hard. Did she not realize the effect she had on him? “I’ll manage.”

  His conscience seemed trapped in a polarized battle with his libido. Everything inside of him itched to toss her to the bed and climb on top of her, kiss her, touch her… But that was insane. His pulse seemed to move south, throbbing hard along the length of his dick. This was not good.

  Her dark gaze held his as she slid his tie out from under his collar and tossed it onto the floor.

  His throat went dry as he swallowed. “Careful with that. It’s my only one.”

  “Oh, no.” She pouted, mocking him. “What will you do without a pressed tie?”

  His insides jerked, his defenses coming out of the lust induced coma and rising to like a shield. “You’re making fun of me.”

  “Of course not.” Her hips shifted, pressing into him as her fingers tunneled through his hair, destroying his part. She grinned and nuzzled her nose against his. “Did you know this is how Eskimos kiss?”

  Conversing soothed the irritating panic building inside of him, but the more she touched him the more challenging it became to maintain an outward calm. His luggage had drifted to a secondhand thought, his sole focus now the beautiful woman on his lap. If he didn’t focus on their dialogue he might do something too forward and she might never sit on him like this again. He wanted her to sit on him like this every day for the rest of his life.

  “It’s actually a greeting used by Inuit. Traditionally, it isn’t nose to nose, but nose and lips to cheek or brow.”

  She cocked her head, her long hair tumbling down her arm. “Show me.”

  “How the Inuit kiss?”

  She nodded, her expression blank and her full lips tempting. Even nuzzling her was dangerous. She was too beautiful, too perfect.

  “Do you not want to kiss me, Elliot?”

  He wanted to kiss her and so much more. Drawing in a breath, he slowly leaned forward, his eyes watching hers as he pressed his nose to her cheek, lightly teasing his lips along her soft skin and breathing her in.

  “They breathe their loved ones in,” he rasped, loving her intimate scent as he softly nuzzled her throat and shut his eyes.

  She shifted her arms loosely around his neck, pressing her nose to his cheek and breathed deep. “I like the way you smell.”

  Her mouth dragged over his jaw where his beard had grown in and she licked him, humming as her tongue slowly, sensuously scraped over the stubble. His body hardened, encroaching on a point of pain, and his fingers tightened on her hips. The effort it took to hold his control was agony.

  “This is how Americans kiss,” she murmured, pressing her lush lips to his.

  His eyes closed as his heart thundered, his jaw trembling as she gently teased his mouth.

  “And this is how the French do it.” Tipping her head, she slid her tongue between his lips.

  Breathing deep, he tightened his grip as her fingers massaged their way back to his hair. Her body slowly rocked over his, awakening every part of him as she deepened the kiss. Pleasure turned to pain as his desire rapidly grew.

  Pulling back, he drew in an unsteady breath.

  She smiled nervously. “You always pull away from me. Why?”

  His heart was racing, his body hot and hard. “It’s too much. When I kiss you … I feel like everything…” Tightens. Throbs. Yearns. Hungers. “It hurts, in a way I can’t describe. I feel weak yet strong.”

  Her hands brushed over his shoulders and down his chest, toying with the line of buttons on his shirt. “It doesn’t have to hurt, Elliot. It can feel very, very good.”

  He shivered under her touch, waiting for her to stop, at the same time praying she wouldn’t. Swallowing tightly, his mind flashed with erotic images he’d seen in movies and on television, coming up short when he tried to picture himself doing some of those things to Nadia.

  He wanted to. He just didn’t know how. “I don’t want to disappoint you.”

  “You won’t.”

  He’d never ogled magazines plastered with airbrushed women or chanced his computer’s safety by scoping out pornography on the Internet, but now he wished he had. He had absolutely no finesse with women beyond knowing point A connected with point B. His fascination with her breasts could occupy him for days, but what fascinated her? He couldn’t screw this up.

  His hand lifted, hovering between them then dropped to the bed. Damn, this was frustrating. Glancing away, he muttered, “Tell me what to do.”

  She eased back and studied him for a silent moment, pulling his attention back to her with a gentle touch to his jaw. “You want to do more?”

  Nodding tightly, his finger teased under the hem of her shirt, barely touching the inside of the material. She said she liked a man who knew what he wanted. He def
initely wanted her.

  “Yes.”

  Her hand covered his, her hold light. Easing back, she lifted his palm and set it over the swell of her breast. “You can touch me here.”

  His heart beat erratically as he cupped her through the layers of clothing. His body swelled under her weight as blood pumped heavily through his veins. She was so warm.

  She hummed softly as his thumb dragged slowly over her curves and her nipple beaded beneath his gentle touch. Swallowing, he rasped, “Can I see you?”

  She reached for the hem of her shirt and lifted, exposing her trim, tan belly where a tiny jade stone flashed. She tossed it toward the pillows.

  He sucked in a breath as her bra—black lace—filled his view. She was the sexiest woman he’d ever seen, and she was here with him, sitting on top of him, as his girlfriend. A shiver of excitement snaked through him, triggering things inside of him, and he quickly looked away, blanking his mind and silently begging for self-control.

  Please no…

  “Elliot? Is everything all right?”

  He swallowed as he tried to focus on her question as well as not coming in his pants. “You’re very beautiful.”

  She turned his jaw, drawing his gaze back to hers. “Then why don’t you look at me?”

  It never hurt so much to look at anything. Breathing heavily, he blinked, mesmerized by the delicate swell of flesh and smooth expanse of olive skin. Reaching forward, he brushed the back of his fingers over the pebbled tip of her nipple. Her spine elongated as she moaned, and he paused. He glanced at her in question, wondering if this was what she intended or if he’d gone too far.

  Her gaze turned heavy as her full lips curved into a smile. “You can do what you like, Elliot.”

  Finding nothing but trust in her stare, he returned his attention to her breasts. There was a small clasp in the center of her bra. Carefully, he pressed the catch together, plumping her breasts, and then drew the material apart. The lace gathered and dragged over her flesh, exposing heaven. His hands shook as he stared in awe.

  Full, lush, and mouthwatering, her dark nipples tightened before his eyes. Keeping his touch tentative and gentle, he feathered his fingertips over her areola and it puckered tighter. Her breathing rasped as he trailed his touch to her other nipple and tiny goosebumps rose on her shoulders.

  Her chest lifted with each breath as she watched him. She was a work of art, every single inch of her a flawless masterpiece. She was exquisite feminine perfection, each little mark, freckle, and blemish proving she was real.

  “You’re … gorgeous,” he whispered in a hoarse voice.

  Nudging his head lower, she threaded her fingers through his hair and brought his face to her chest. “Taste.”

  Glancing over the frames of his glasses, he studied the way her eyes had dilated and her cheeks flushed. She was aroused—aroused by him. He nuzzled his nose to the side of her breast, pressing his lips to the soft flesh as he breathed her in—nuzzling.

  She giggled. “You’re quite good at Eskimo kisses.”

  His body was rigidly hard, his arousal insurmountably constricting in too many ways. Feeling with his lips, he glided his mouth over every slope and contour, until they finally brushed the firm tip of her nipple. He placed a kiss on the side of her areola and slowly licked over the delicate crest.

  Her breathy sigh met his ears as her fingers threaded through his hair and her thighs tightened over his hips. She lifted, dragging the tip of her nipple over his parted lips and he kissed her flesh with slow, succulent pulls, drawing her deeper.

  She keened and took up a gradual rhythm, canting against his hips with each soft pull of his mouth. He drew back, fascinated by the damp skin, now darker from the flow of blood beneath the surface. Turning his attention to her other breast, he did the same, pulling, sucking, tasting her. A thousand volts of electricity seemed to dance up his spine as his need expanded and greed unraveled inside of him. His hands coasted down her back, holding her to him as he took his time pleasuring her.

  Her moans, breathless and needy, came closer together the harder he pulled. Her hands tugged at his hair, his clothing, and her hips contracted over his, rolling and creating a delicious friction between them. If it felt this incredible to have her rubbing against him, he couldn’t imagine how mind-blowing it would feel to actually be inside of her.

  Her hand drifted down his chest. The weight of her fingers brushed the bulge of his erection. He jerked back and gasped as her palm closed around his solid length and stroked through his pants. Her finger traced the buckle of his belt, almost questioningly, as she lifted her lashes and looked into his eyes.

  Was this how it happened? Shouldn’t it be more orchestrated? Romantic? Formal?

  Physical need overruled romantic ideals and he pressed his hand over hers, holding her to him. The weight of her touch satisfied something dark inside and he shivered, almost coming then and there.

  Sliding off his lap, she dropped to her knees, fitting perfectly between his thighs. He held his breath. He didn’t want it to end, but if she actually touched him, flesh to flesh, it would be over in a matter of seconds.

  “Nadia…”

  “Shh. I want to.”

  Her dainty fingers unlatched his belt and unclasped the top button of his pants. He sucked in a breath as she gazed up at him and slowly dragged the zipper down, parting the constricting material.

  His heartbeat resounded in his ears and his breathing grew unusually loud. He lifted his hips as she nudged his pants lower on his legs. She reached into his briefs and his eyes rolled shut.

  He beat back his nerves, distracted by the worry he might disappoint her in some way. Her fingers brushed the flesh of his cock and he hissed in a breath. Nothing had ever felt so exquisite, so carnal, so agonizingly right. Licking his lips, he peeked through his lashes and watched as she withdrew him.

  Struggling to calm his breathing, he focused on her fingers folding around his throbbing flesh and let out a jagged exhalation. “Christ.”

  “Has a woman ever done this for you before?” she asked, her hold tightening as she stroked slowly.

  Unable to form words, he shook his head. It felt nothing like when he touched himself. Her hold was so warm and firm, but delicate.

  “I’m glad I’m the first. I get jealous, too.” She smirked.

  As she tipped her head, her hair stole his view. Every muscle in his body locked as wet heat closed over him. Bowing against the bed, he hissed as she lowered her mouth, sucking him to the back of her throat even as she stroked him.

  “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck,” he cursed, unable to rein in his control.

  Wanting to see what she was doing, he gathered the wild mass of onyx waves and pulled her hair away from her face. His toes curled as pleasure knifed through him, more potent now that he could see her mouth gliding over him. Her cheeks hollowed with every pull. Her lashes threw tiny shadows on her tantalizing skin.

  Frantic not to come, he tried to catch his breath. She literally stole his breath, stole it right from his soul.

  His head tipped back reflexively. His eyes rolled in delirious pleasure, and he let out an agonizing moan as his control spun away. An explosion of fantasies fabricated into reality, and his mind shattered. This was actually happening and it was a million times better than his darkest dreams. There was no drawing back his orgasm now.

  As his release tunneled through him, his body quaked under her erotic touch. Her moans sent little vibrations through his cock. The pleasure was too intense.

  Waves of ecstasy ripped through him as a guttural moan ripped from his chest. He fisted the blankets and gritted his teeth. “Nadia. Nadia, I’m …”

  Her tight mouth released him and she smiled, her hand still stroking, dragging his urgent release through his veins too fast for him to stop it from happening. He cupped his hand over his cock.

  Didn’t she know what she was doing to him? “I’m going to…”

  She brushed his hand away and stroked harder. �
��On me.”

  He grunted as the first spurt shot across her breast. Jesus Christ. He couldn’t hold back. Gasping, he shut his eyes and let go. Relief morphed into utter mortification as he lost control in those finishing seconds and came across her breasts.

  He shivered and flinched, her lingering touch too much to tolerate. He fell back on the bed, panting.

  When he finally opened his eyes, he was painfully aware of how exposed he was. His cock had softened but still throbbed, remaining thicker than usual. He covered himself with his hand and sat up, stilling when he saw her.

  Her breasts were slick with his come. Her hair was as wild as her eyes. Lips parted, she smiled and gazed up at him.

  Unsure what to do, he tucked himself away and stood, taking her hand. As she rose from the carpet, he gave her a moment to find her bearings—and a moment for him to find his fucking brain. He wasn’t sure he’d ever be the same again.

  It was too quiet. Unsure how to proceed, he led her to the bathroom and lifted her onto the vanity. Turning the faucet to warm, he grabbed a fresh washcloth from the rack. Once the cloth was warm and wet, he carefully washed away the evidence.

  She watched him carefully but didn’t say a word. When he had her cleaned up and dry, he met her gaze, his full of mortification and apology.

  It was only then they truly looked each other directly in the eye, fully aware that this changed everything. Something inside of him shifted, internally growling as he stared at her and smiled. Territorial pride washed through him, wiping away any traces of regret as she seemed happy about what just happened.

  She wasn’t angry with him or shocked by his behavior. Relief swept through him as his mortification flipped to pride. She was pleased and he could sense her pleasure, see it in the way her eyes sparkled and her mouth smirked. An unfamiliar voice in his head growled, catching him off guard, but his body seemed to rattle with the inward claim.

  Mine. He would never willingly give her up.

  Leaning forward, he brushed his lips against hers and kissed her deeply. Once again shocked that she let him.

  Her gaze turned shy, as they broke apart. “Should we cuddle now?”