desire for Bliss: a novel of Sex, Mystery and Romance (RiverHart Book 2)

by Adira August

  Trust me.

  This would be a new way to trust. Harder than letting him take a riding crop to her derriere. This was her life.

  “Okay,” she said. She let her eyes wander back to him and over his body from his enticing bulge to his solid chest and up to his face all angles and floppy hair and intense eyes. His beautiful firm mouth broke into a huge smile.

  He had his cell phone to his ear in a flash. “Get a team together and meet Alex at The Coloradan. You’ll be picking up Ms. Rivers’ house keys. She’ll be gone for a month, but has people coming to stay so - … No, I’m taking care of that. …”

  “Stand by, one,” he said and asked Avia, “You want the place stocked with food and liquor?”

  Avia knew the astounded look on her face was feeding his bizarro billionaire streak. “If they have food allergies or preferences in wines or liquor, this is the time to speak up,” he said.

  “Rolly likes micro brewery malt liquors and root beer. Not mixed together. Talli hates cooking. They like ice cream,” Avia shrugged.

  “Did you hear that?” Ben asked whoever was on the phone. “Yeah, Berthe will know what to do.” To Avia, “Anything else I can do for them?”

  Avia remembered something Talia told her in a phone call a few days ago. She felt her face heat.

  “Hang on,” he said and put the phone on mute. “What?” She shook her head. “What? You’re face is a stop sign, spill!”

  She crossed her arms and shook her head.

  “Do I have to spank it out of you here in the parking garage? What?” He demanded - sort of. He seemed to be laughing at her while trying to sound stern.

  “Nothing, just something she once said she wanted from your website.” She narrowed her eyes. “And there will be no spanking or telling. This is private between me and my sister. I’m not telling anyone anything that personal she shared with me. Even you.”

  He gave her an assessing look and seemed to decide she meant it. He unmuted the phone. “Okay, just what we said, maybe some flowers and I think a nice welcome basket. … The ones we give VIP clients - … Yes. Make it the A one.” The last was quite emphatic. He clicked off.

  She was watching him with narrowed eyes. “Benedict Valor Hart, what did you just do?”

  “I took care of your needs so you won’t have to worry about spending the day with me.”

  “Are you giving them sex toys?”

  “Yes,” he said. “If you won’t tell me what they want, I’ll just give them what I give all VIPs who come to town.”

  “But - I would never do that, who do I tell her they’re from?” She could not believe he was being this irritatingly controlling.

  “There’s a card in the basket. She’ll know who they’re from.” He said.

  Something warm and bright bloomed in her chest. “Non-disclosure agreement?” Avia reminded him.

  He reached out and drew her into his arms. “It’ll be expired by the time they get here.” He smiled into her eyes. “You’d better stop looking at me like that, or I’ll forget to give you your presents.”

  He reached behind himself and grabbed a plastic shopping bag from the roof of the car.

  A shadow crossed her face. Not more presents. He’d just given her a whole wardrobe. But the plastic bag he handed her felt quite light. She checked out the logo. “Walmart? You went to Walmart?”

  He snatched the bag back from her in mock offense. “I wasn’t born a billionaire, I know how to go to the store.” He reached into the bag. “Here,” he said. “If I leave it to you, I’ll never get any coffee.”

  He thrust two items into her hands. One was a DVD. Secretary. James Spader and Maggie Gyllenhaal, young, hot and brilliant in a romance with spanking Avia had never seen. The second item was a single packet of microwaveable, “movie theater style” popcorn. She stared at it, unseeing, her eyes full of tears.

  “I got a few different kinds of soda,” Ben told her. “I didn’t know what you’d like. Or, I always have wine in the house …” He put one finger under her chin and tilted her head up. She blinked and the tears ran over her cheeks. Her smile was luminous.

  He hid his relief and wiped her face with his fingers. “To think I spent four grand on a silk robe and all I needed to impress you was to drop a twenty at Walmart.”

  “It was the handshake,” she said.

  He tilted his head. “What was?”

  “The first time you impressed me. It was the way you shook my hand. You were such a gentleman. You were so … decent. I liked you right away. I just - like you so much.”

  He tapped twice on the top of the car. “I have a plan. It involves you spending the night with me. In the Keep,” he said, referring to the top floor of his house.

  Before she could respond to that astounding statement, the front passenger door opened and a somewhat androgynous individual, blond and slender, emerged. Avia noted the slight bumps under the cotton knit sweater and decided the basic gender was female.

  “Yes, Mr. Hart?” she said.

  “This is Ms. Rivers. Avia, meet Alex, head of valet and transportation services at the Coloradan.” Ben said. “Al will take your car back.”

  Avia shook Alex’s hand and realized she was older than she appeared at first glance, possibly in her forties. “That’s very kind.” She looked to Ben. “So, my car is going to be downtown?”

  “For now,” he said shortly with a glance at Alex. Avia understood the plans were private.

  She fished her car key from her purse and handed it to Alex. “I’ll walk you over and get my stuff.” She cocked an eyebrow at Ben. “You take a lot for granted.” She led Alex toward the red hatchback.

  “I simply prepare for all eventualities!” He called after her, admiring the swing and sway of her heart-shaped ass under the long full skirt.

  He had plans for that ass later. Lovely, warm, sensual plans.

  Flagstaff Mountain

  Ben glanced over at Avia as he guided the V60 around a switchback. The car took the 180 degree turn as if it were a straightway, climbing easily.

  “You look - bemused - I guess is the word,” he said.

  “I just expected some kind young billionaire about town car that blows away all the other cars on the highway. It’s a Volvo,” she said. “And not just a Volvo, it’s a station wagon.”

  “I see,” he said. “Not high status enough for you, Princess? You think it’s going to turn into a pumpkin at midnight and 362 mice are going to come pouring out and scurry away into the darkness?”

  She narrowed her eyes. “I don’t give a dead rat’s tail what you drive. I just didn’t expect you to be in a family car. I was expressing surprise, not disappointment.”

  “I see,” he said, smirking at her. “This is my personal car. It’ll handle anything these mountains throw at it. Safely. A car paparazzi don’t look at twice. I special ordered the color to be as nondescript as possible. And,” he said, giving her a speculative once-over. “The back is just about the size of a double bed with the seats folded down.”

  “Ah. A bizarro billionaire undercover mobile fuck pad.” She said.

  He felt around in the console. He pulled out a small velvet box. “Speaking of billionaire ...” He held out the box. “I don’t want to hear any more complaints about the quality of my presents.”

  The box was too like a ring box for her comfort. She was definitely not ready for that. She clutched the plastic shopping bag with her movie and popcorn to her chest. “I have all the quality I need right here.”

  He repressed a grin. “Just take the damn box, so I can put two hands on the wheel.”

  Avia put down the shopping bag and opened the jewelry box. Oh my, God. Her head was shaking back and forth. She shut the box and held it cradled in her hands.

  “What, now?” Ben asked, negotiating the next switchback.

  “Ben. I didn’t mean ... you know I was just screwing around with you.”

  The night before, he’d explained the month’s worth of expensive
clothes he’d bought her were to wear during the Madigan trial while she stayed in his downtown penthouse so she didn’t have to worry about laundry. Her shocked look brought his assurance that they were off the rack and all the jewelry was costume.

  “You’re a fucking billionaire and I didn’t even get a crummy pair of diamond studs?”

  It had taken him a few seconds to realize she was teasing him, Avia recalled.

  Ben pulled into an unpaved parking lot for an overlook with a picnic area amongst the lodgepole pine woods to the north. He turned to her and brushed her hair back.

  “I recall the screwing quite clearly,” he said. “Besides, ‘crummy diamond studs’ as you called them, are a good idea. They’ll go with everything, work for business attire and dinner. Twinkle through the strands of your hair …”

  His voice had become warmer, deeper, softer. One finger traced the whorls of her ear through the shortish dark blond waves. Avia shivered, her thighs pressed, her throat tightened. Ben leaned across the console to nuzzle her ear, his voice low. “You turn the prettiest shade of pink when you’re excited.”

  Her vulva heated and her hips rocked. Dammit!

  “Ben,” she choked. Stopped. Cleared her throat. Try again. “Ben,” she said more firmly, pushing him back to his own side of the car. “Seriously, I can’t tease you about your money if you’re going to go out and buy me every damned thing I mention in passing. And these aren’t exactly crummy. These are ice cubes seeking a tumbler of single malt Scotch.”

  “They’re less than two carats each and you should never water down good Scotch. Now -” He held up a hand as she started to speak. “Today is about me giving you everything you ask for. I’m indulging myself. Also, figuring out who I am. You are. We are, in a relationship with no rules. When I asked you to give me today, I was talking about more than time.”

  He leaned back over her, his arm thrown over the back of her seat, his other hand taking hers, gently stroking her fingers and palm.

  She swallowed hard. Nodded. Go on.

  He looked around. “I’d like to be with you, just as I am or feel in the moment. I want you to respond to me the way you feel in that moment. Before I leave, I want us to have found out some stuff about each other. Ourselves.”

  The hand behind her head slipped down and she felt his fingers combing through her hair. His eyes searched her face. “It’s daylight, now. We’re not in a postcoital haze. I’m not reacting in the moment to you resigning from Companionship and proposing something I’ve never done.”

  What does that mean, never? With an effort she didn’t ask. He sounded like he was telling her something he practiced.

  “I have things to tell you,” he went on. “I have that on the agenda for the drive home. And during dinner, if we need more time.”

  Dear God, I’m dating a CEO who schedules topics of conversation with his girlfriend. It was too tempting to not ask, “Um - so - what will we talk about at dinner if we don’t need more time?”

  “Making porn videos for Hartlines. Unless you have something you want to talk about?” He took her completely seriously.

  “No. I - no, not that I know of right now.” She assured him, wondering why this was so endearing.

  He nodded and then seemed to steel himself. “First, I need to know something. Last night, you begged me to teach you. On your knees. That was you reacting in the moment. Do you still want that?”

  He assumed his impassive face. Avia knew it well, she had one of her own she used when it was vitally important people tell her the truth. Did she want that?

  “I had a good interview with the psychiatrist this morning,” she said. “I have things to tell you, also. For right now, I can say I learned to respect how much more you know about so many things sexual, than I do.”

  Avia grabbed her jacket from the back seat. She gave him a reassuring smile. “You’re asking me an important question. I know that. I need a minute.”

  He nodded that he understood.

  She got out of the car and walked to the edge of the overlook. She had meant it at the time. But she’d meant it, the way she meant it. Which might not be what he thought it meant. Or maybe it was. She had, in that moment, wanted him to teach her what being submissive to his Dominant was - what the thing about him was that he had been so sure she’d reject.

  She’d meant just in the bedroom, just submissive in sex. But maybe he didn’t. Maybe he meant something else. Something more.

  What if it is more? Do you mean it now? Do you want to know this thing? The way he is, whatever way that is? You told him you did.

  He’d been right. Again. She didn’t know what she was talking about. She felt like a damn fool. Again. Arrogant. Reckless with his feelings as well as her own.

  She gazed out at the vista of the picturesque university town below and the plains beyond under the endless, clear, Colorado sky. What did she know for sure?

  I know it’s never gone wrong when I trusted him. I know he cares for me. And I know I’ve never liked anyone as much as I like Benedict Valor Hart. Dammit. I just don’t want anyone else. I want him. What he does to me. I want to be in a special place with who he is. I want the way I feel when I'm with him.

  She turned away from the spectacular view to see another: Ben leaning against the car, again. He’d donned a black leather jacket in the cooler air at altitude. He was waiting for her answer.

  She walked back to him. He straightened up and she stopped close enough to feel his warmth and looked straight into his eyes. Usually warm and bright with laughter or wanting her, now they were cool and remote.

  “Teach me. Please, Sir.” Avia repeated the words she’d spoken on the patio of the hotel penthouse. She let him see a bit of smile. “I’d go to my knees, but we might both find that much too tempting for a public parking lot.”

  Something flickered in his eyes. Holding her gaze, giving nothing of his feelings away, he reached down, opened his belt and released the button on his waistband.

  And waited.

  She swallowed hard. It was a bright fall Saturday. Anyone could drive into the lot, which was visible from the road, in any case.

  You asked him. Twice.

  Avia’s right hand traversed the few inches between them, her palm cupped his balls for a moment, gently squeezing, rolling them through the layers of fabric. His eyes darkened, his lips parted. She slid her hand up to his growing erection, trapped sideways by the boxer briefs he always wore. Her left hand found his zipper. She began to slide it down, bending her knees, hoping the ground wasn’t too rocky.

  Then both her hands were in his, gripped so tightly it hurt, but not enough for her to protest. She straightened as he raised her hands to his lips and kissed her fingers, palms. Then his arms were around her, holding her to his strong, solid body. She felt his energy envelop and ignite her.

  “I need to be inside you,” he said. “Now.”

  She looked up into the storm of passion in his eyes. “Station wagon?”

  He took her head in his hands and tilted her face up to his. “Tell me what you want.” Avia’s mind went blank. Everything, I want everything all the time all at once. His grip tightened. “I won’t always ask, Avia, so tell me now: What do you want?”

  She told him. “I want to touch you. Everywhere I want, any way I want, as long as I want. And I want to you to stop holding back. I want you to trust me. Take me. Just for yourself.”

  His chest expanded suddenly against her. He let her go and threw open the back of the car. But instead of dragging her inside, he grabbed a blanket.

  He walked her quickly, almost dragging her, through the picnic area to a trailhead. Leading her swiftly along the narrow trail for a few hundred feet, he turned abruptly up a barely visible path. Deer trail.

  They climbed to a place where the slope flattened out amidst a circle of aspen. A dozen feet wide, cushioned by the fall of dried leaves over decades, sheltered from the wind behind a tumble of boulders.

  It was warm the
re in the strong midday sun. He spread the blanket and slipped her jacket off, laying it aside. Then he lifted her in his arms, and lowered himself to his knees, placing her gently on the blanket.

  But as gentle as he was, she saw the muscles working in his jaw, felt the tension in his well-muscled arms. He was controlling himself. She hoped he’d stop, soon. The thought made her hips shift and her thighs press. He saw that.

  “Open your legs,” he told her.

  She obeyed him quickly, spreading her legs to shoulder width. He dropped his jacket and pulled the sweater over his head. He threw his shirt after his sweater and rose, to stand between her legs, looking down at her.

  “Further,” he growled, unzipping his jeans. Adjusting his erection.

  Her breath caught. Her clit throbbed. Shit. She slowly spread her legs apart, devouring him with her eyes.

  He was wearing a tight white v-necked t-shirt. The bright Colorado sun, filtered through the half-barren October branches, cast slanted shadows under his pectorals and abdominal muscles and the hollows of his cheeks under his high cheekbones.

  A substantial erection stretched his black briefs through his open fly into a bulge the sun outlined in deep shadow.

  When her feet had almost reached the edges of the blanket, he nodded. “There. Don’t close them. At all,” he ordered, his voice low. “Hands behind you,”

  Avia slid her hands, flat on the blanket, under the small of her back. “Bend your knees. Skirt up to your waist.”

  “Yes, Sir,” she was panting now, anticipating the humiliating position. Splayed out like a frog awaiting dissection, pinned down by his will. He raked her with his eyes, deciding how he would touch her to make her insane with wanting him.

  She gathered her skirt and worked it up to bunch at her waist, exposing her panties and garters.

  “Listen to me,” he said. She gave him her full attention as she slid her hands back behind her.

  “I’ll leave what you call me up to you, for now. There are no rules. Not yet.” He said, his voice softer. “This is me, showing you what I am. What I want. This is you. Choosing to accept that or not. Showing me what you need and want. ”