Priorities Isabel, I scolded myself.
Priorities!
“It came with the property. Would you like to see where you will be staying?”
I gave the poor fox one more absent pat before my gaze shifted back to Marcus. “Aren’t I staying with you?”
“In the same house, yes. In the same bedroom, no.” His fingers skimmed across his jaw where he’d allowed a few days’ worth of dark scruff to grow. On some men it would have looked messy and unkempt; on Marcus it looked sexy as hell. “I prefer to sleep alone.”
No cuddling for the brooding billionaire.
I couldn’t exactly say I was surprised.
“You know,” I said as I followed him across the foyer and up a grand staircase with bannisters on both sides, “I didn’t bring any clothes with me. I don’t even have a toothbrush.” Or any birth control. Even though I hadn’t been sexually active over the past few months – not counting the little session with Marcus at the Red Virgin – I was still on a daily pill. Which I had forgotten at home.
Awesome.
“I believe you should have everything you need in here.” Leading me down a wide hallway, Marcus opened the fourth door on the left and stepped to the side, allowing me to enter first. I did so with equal parts trepidation and excitement, brushing against his muscular chest as I walked into a bedroom that was bigger than my entire apartment.
“Whoa.” It was the only word I could summon as I tried to take everything in at once.
Flooded with natural light, the bedroom was surprisingly soft and feminine. Gauzy white curtains framed the floor to ceiling windows. A matching canopy covered the queen-sized four poster bed. Pillows were stacked three deep at the head of the mattress, and a cozy looking throw had been neatly folded at the foot. There was an antique writing desk in one corner. A blue chaise lounge – at least, I thought that’s what it was called – in the other. The honey colored pine floorboards were covered by a pale blue and pink rug framed with delicate roses.
It was a room fit for a princess…or a queen.
Going to the nearest window, I pressed my hands against the wide, warm sill as I looked out and saw a sloping lawn tumbling down into the sea. The boat I had glimpsed from the helicopter landing pad was in full view. It was a sailboat with two towering masts. A name was written on the back in red cursive font.
Evangeline.
Before I could ask if he’d named his boat after a past lover, Marcus went to the closet and slid open the door to reveal row after row after row of beautiful dresses, silk shirts, pants, and countless shoes.
Hello, heaven.
If I had thought I’d been dazzled by the wealth downstairs, it was nothing compared to what I felt as I looked at the closet. I wasn’t a materialistic girl by nature, but I also wasn’t immune to the sparkle of pretty things. Especially if they were my pretty things. Dumbstruck, I crossed the room on wobbly legs. A flicker of amusement passing over his face, Marcus moved out of the way, giving me free rein to thumb through a seemingly endless supply of clothes, the likes of which I’d only seen on models in fashion magazines.
“How did you know what size I was?” I asked, holding up a pair of jeans in bewilderment. I double-checked the tag. Sure enough, there was a tiny 24 stamped underneath the designer logo. I didn’t know whether to feel flattered…or creeped out.
“I have touched you, Isabel. Tasted you. Felt you clench around my cock as you came. Did you really think I wouldn’t know what size clothes you wear?”
When he put it that way…
Averting my gaze as my blood began to heat, I carefully refolded the jeans and put them back on the shelf before turning to face my new keeper and master. Sunlight shone through his hair, highlighting the glossy locks and giving his countenance an air of innocence I knew to be completely false.
“So,” I said, drawing the word out as I shifted my weight from side to side. Not knowing what to do with my hands I stuck them awkwardly in the back pockets of my shorts. “What do we, ah, do now?”
“Now you take a shower, change into whatever clothes you would like, and wait for me”
I bit my lip. “And then?”
Gray eyes glittering with sensual promise, Marcus stepped towards me and gently tucked a loose curl behind my ear, fingers lingering on the curve of my jaw.
“And then,” he whispered, his gaze burning into mine with an intensity that left me breathless, “you start to earn your one hundred thousand dollars.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Because he could – on occasion – be a patient man, Marcus gave Isabel exactly fifteen minutes to shower. Knowing full well it would not be enough time for her to explore all of the exotic soaps and shampoos and lotions he’d had shipped directly from Paris, he entered her room with the expectation of catching her off guard. To his distinct pleasure, he was not disappointed.
“What are you doing in here?” she gasped when she saw him standing in the bathroom. Wet, silky curves and rosy pink flesh peeked out through the shower’s fogged glass, giving him a tantalizing glimpse of what was waiting for him on the other side of it. Comprised of imported stone tile with a large bench on one end and four nozzles of varying sizes on the other, the shower was made for fucking.
“Joining you.” Keeping his gaze steady on Isabel’s wide, unblinking green eyes Marcus slowly undressed himself, starting with his shirt. The muscles in his abdomen rippled and clenched as he drew it up over his shoulders and threw it carelessly aside. His shoes and socks were next, followed by his pants…and finally his underwear. Hooking his thumbs under the waistband of the snugly fitting black briefs he pulled them down over his thighs, revealing a cock that was already hard and pulsing and damp at the tip.
“Open the door, Isabel,” he ordered quietly.
Clutching a pink loofah in front of her breasts as though it were some sort of shield, she stepped further back into the shower. “I, ah, wasn’t expecting to start so soon.”
“Then I would suggest you adjust your expectations.”
When she pulled open the glass door he stepped inside, only to release a hiss of surprised pain when burning hot water sluiced across his chest and stomach. “What the hell are you trying to do in here, boil lobsters?”
“Sorry,” Isabel said with a wince. “I like it really hot.”
His hooded gaze swept up and down her wet body, lingering on the swell of her breasts and the neatly trimmed v of hair leading down to her cunt. Tiny bubbles clung to the short red curls, making him wonder if he’d caught her in the middle of cleansing herself. If so, his timing was perfect. “So do I. Give me the loofah, Isabel.”
This time she obeyed him without question. Squeezing additional soap onto the sponge he lathered it between his hands until white, frothy suds spilled out between his fingers. “Now turn around and face the wall.”
Again she listened, albeit a little more reluctantly.
“Put your palms flat against the tile,” Marcus whispered against her ear as he stepped up behind her. Isabel’s back arched when she felt the velvety brush of his cock against the back of her thigh, but she put her hands on the wall nevertheless. “Spread your legs apart. Wider,” he instructed when she moved her tiny feet a few scant inches. “Wider…there, that’s a good girl.”
She hissed in a breath when he began to lather her shoulders and back in large, lazy circles, moving the loofah counter-clockwise against her soft skin. Hot water continued to pelt them both, running down Isabel’s spine in rivulets and slicking Marcus’ hair back from his face. The steam rising up from the shower carried with the sweet smell of lavender and the tangy scent of arousal.
Bringing one hand around to her front he began to play with her breasts, cupping them one at a time in his palm before pinching the damp nipples between his thumb and index finger. When she released a short, breathless little sigh and pressed her ass against his cock Marcus allowed his hand to slide down the flat plane of her abdomen and between her thighs. Spread as she was he en
tered her easily, first with one finger and then two, a low growl of approval rumbling up from his chest when he felt the instinctive clench of her velvety core.
Dropping the loofah he caressed her ass with his bare hand, admiring the plush fullness of each rounded cheek. Marcus had never been one for females so thin their breasts, hips, and ass were all but nonexistent. Thankfully, in spite of her svelte frame, Isabel had curves in all the right places.
He toyed with her clit, using the sounds of her breaths to gauge when to increase pressure and when to release it. Only when she was pumping herself against his fingers and mindlessly rubbing her ass against his cock did he settle his hands on her hips and bury his long, pulsing length inside of her tight, hot little sheath with one powerful thrust.
“OhmyGod,” she cried out. He felt her entire body tremble with anticipation when he withdrew to the tip. Using every ounce of his considerable self-control Marcus held himself at her entrance, jaw clenched tightly together as he waited for her break first. If she wanted him, she wouldn’t just have to ask…she would have to beg.
“Do you want it?” he rasped, beard bristle scraping against her sensitive flesh as he nipped her neck. It wasn’t a hard bite – before their time was through she would learn the meaning of hard – but she flinched nevertheless. Her nerves were on complete sensory overload, making every little touch a thousand times more potent.
“Please,” she whimpered. Wet tendrils of hair slapped against Marcus’ chest as she thrashed her head back and forth while mindlessly rubbing her ass against his shaft. When her right hand slipped off the tile and descended towards her thighs he caught both of her wrists in a brutal grip and held her arms pinned high above her head, effectively rendering her arms completely useless.
“Please what?” he said silkily. “Tell me what you want me to do, Isabel.”
“Fuck me.” Her pupils were dilated and glassy when she looked back at him over her shoulder. “I want you to fuck me hard, Marcus. Fuck me until I scream.”
It was all he needed to hear. With one powerful thrust of his hips he plunged inside of her again, forcing her cunt to take every inch of his swollen cock as he buried himself to the hilt. She cried out again, her breasts lifting towards the spray of water as her back arched.
Taking both of her wrists in his left hand, Marcus used the right to unclip one of the detachable shower nozzles. He took his time, lulling her into complacency with a half dozen or so slow, shallow pumps. Only when her breathing had evened and her eyes were half closed did he withdraw all the way…position the nozzle…and shove his cock all of way inside of her cunt while simultaneously directing the hot water straight at her clit.
She came in an instant, and he relished both the sensation of her walls clenching around his shaft and the echo of her scream as it bounced off the tile. Dropping the nozzle he grabbed her hips, yanked her back against him, and in two hard thrusts followed her over the edge, withdrawing at the last second so his white hot semen sprayed across her back instead of into her body.
With a satisfied sigh Isabel went limp, sliding away from him to lean in a boneless heap against the wet tile. Seeing a strand of hair had caught on the edge of her ear Marcus nearly reached out to untangle the snarl…only to stop and scowl down at his hand when he realized what he had been about to do.
He was not a man who indulged in sentimental gestures. Especially after sex. It gave a woman the wrong idea. Made her believe he cared about more than her body and the pleasure it could bring him. The last thing he needed was to bring emotion into play where he and Isabel were concerned. Their entwined fates were already complicated enough and while the curse implied Isabel had to fall in love with him, it said nothing of him having to fall in love with her.
Keep a cool head and a cold heart, Marcus reminded himself ruthlessly as he stepped out of the shower and grabbed a towel off the wall. Passing it once over his head, he looped the towel low on his hips and opened the bathroom door, letting in a wave of fresh air that felt refreshingly cool against his damp skin.
“Get yourself settled,” he ordered brusquely. “And be dressed for dinner at half past six.”
“What was that?” Droplets of water fell from Isabel’s lashes as she blinked at him. Her cheeks were pink from the steam rising up from the shower and her green eyes were still dazed from their fucking. She looked so adorably flushed and bewildered that Marcus was half tempted to step back into the shower and gather her in his arms for round two. But that would mean deviating from his plan and that he could not – would not – do.
“The beginning, Isabel.” His mouth creased in a humorless smile. “That was just the beginning.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Marcus’ words echoed in my head as I tried to decide between playing it casual chic in a pair of skinny jeans and a black silk halter top or going all sexy siren in a sparkly red dress that would take a serious pair of spanks to fit into.
The beginning, Isabel…That was just the beginning.
If our little shower adventure was just the beginning, I couldn’t even begin to imagine what the middle and the end would be like. When he’d pressed the nozzle against my clit…
WOW.
Like, serious wow.
If Marcus hadn’t been holding my wrists I would have crumpled then and there. I’d never experienced an orgasm that powerful. It had touched me all the way down to my core, plucking at something buried so deeply inside of me I hadn’t even known it existed.
Noting the time on my cell phone – basically the only thing it was good for since I had absolutely zero bars – I quickly decided on casual chic. The dark jeans and black top may not have been in-your-face-sexy, but it was only the first day. I needed to leave something to the imagination, didn’t I? Not that there was much left now that Marcus had seen me completely naked.
Had he liked what he saw? It was hard to tell. Marcus didn’t exactly give out compliments like candy. I knew he’d enjoyed himself – the hot semen branding my ass had told me that much – but if he’d felt anything other than carnal pleasure it hadn’t shown on his face. The man was a stone wall. To say he wasn’t a fan of displaying emotion would have been the understatement of the freakin’ decade.
Not your problem, Is, I reminded myself as I pulled the jeans up over the scrap of red lace that vaguely resembled a pair of panties. In addition to supplying me with a mouth-watering array of designer clothes Marcus had also seen fit to purchase a variety of sexy lingerie that would have made a hooker blush. All you need to do is get through the next seven days and get paid. Then you can forget all about Mr. Mysterious Billionaire and his enormous cock.
Unfortunately, it was a thought easier said than done. There was a very simple reason why I didn’t have a boyfriend: I made bad choices. Take Ian, for example. The last guy to make me look – and feel – like a complete asshole. He’d been wrong from the very beginning, but I’d been so determined to fix him that I’d turned a blind eye to his flaws until it was too late. Five years later and I was still picking up the pieces. And yet compared to Marcus, Ian was a saint.
A blind person could see that my temporary keeper had layers upon layers. If there was a woman out there crazy enough to think she could somehow fix him, then the more power to her. I was here to do my time, earn my money, and get the hell out with what little dignity I had left. I wasn’t about to take on another project. Especially a project named Marcus Montgomery.
Applying a dab of cherry gloss to my lips, I flicked another layer of mascara over my lashes, did a quick turn in the full length mirror, and was ready to go five seconds before the little alarm I’d set on my cell phone went beep beep beep. As if on cue the door opened, revealing Maximus in a pair of black trousers and a navy blue oxford shirt with the sleeves rolled up to the elbow. He’d slicked his hair back and shaved his five o’clock shadow, revealing a chiseled jaw and a strong, serious chin. A gold watch on his left wrist caught the fading light shining in through the window as he lifted his a
rm and made a point of glancing down.
“Isabel. Right on time.”
“As ordered,” I chirped.
Marcus’ gray eyes lifted to mine. “I hope you enjoy lamb.”
Lamb? As in baby sheep? As in fuzzy little white things that went baaa? “Umm…”
“You never know what you might like until you try it.” The faint smirk on his lips betrayed the double meaning behind his words.
Cheeky man.
When he offered his arm I blinked but took it, sliding my hand along the rigid muscle of his forearm until my fingertips settled just shy of his wrist. Compared to the way our bodies had touched in the shower this light contact was about as intimate as two virgins talking to each other online. So why did I suddenly feel the urge to blush?
It was the orgasm, I decided as Marcus led me back down the stairs, through the foyer, and into what I could only assume was the formal dining room. Definitely the orgasm. It fried my brain.
Candlelight from a three-tiered chandelier bathed the room in a soft, flickering glow. The long mahogany table could have easily sat twenty but there were only two place settings complete with fine porcelain china, white linen napkins, and crystal wine glasses already half filled with a blood red wine.
“All this for me? You shouldn’t have,” I said as I slid into my seat. Oversized and ornate, it dwarfed my small frame, making me feel like a child sitting at the adult’s table.
“I didn’t.” Marcus took his place at the head of the table and lifted his wine glass. “The staff did. I told them I would have a very special guest staying with me this week. They took it upon themselves to put this together. Should we toast, Isabel?”
I couldn’t help but wonder how many other ‘special guests’ the servants had prepared fancy meals for. Not that it mattered. I wasn’t jealous. Marcus could have a hundred special guests and it wouldn’t affect me one way or the other. Unless…
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