He undid his tie, taking it off. “There’s more than a bed.”
He opened the door to the bathroom, decorated in white with gold accents. A fragrance of vanilla swirled around him, probably from the cleaning crew. She stood, fascination gleaming in her eyes. “Wow.”
“Wow is right.” He held her hand, pulling her to him.
She gasped, staring at his lips. Naughty, naughty Emma.
He bent her over the sink. “You were very bad, sweet Emma. You used me. I feel like you’re using me all along…my body…but as long as I’m in on it, that’s cool.”
“Is it too late for an apology?”
“The best way you can apologize to me is to let me fuck you.”
She squirmed, undulating her hips.
He hiked up her skirt, touching her prickled skin. When he pulled it over completely, he glanced at a pair of beige cotton panties, unlike the ultra-sexy ones he’d bought her on the previous day. “Where are your G-strings, baby doll?”
“They… I packed them. I like to travel in comfort.”
He slipped his fingers inside her underwear, cupping her gorgeous butt. “This has to be the sexiest ass I’ve ever seen.” He growled, loving how she rocked her hips into his hands, sighing, no doubt needing more just like he did.
He caressed her cheek in circular motions, warming her flesh with his palm. She pushed her behind into his hand, as moans escaped her lips. Encouraged, he swatted her ass, and she yelped. “This is for not listening to the rules,” he whispered.
“Isn’t part of your lessons to teach me to forget about my boring, good-for-nothing rules?”
“I’m talking about mine. Like how you didn’t wear the G-string,” he said, smacking her other cheek, this time harder than before.
She squirmed, shifting in front of him like she liked the game. Of course she did. Despite her congenial ways, a bad girl screamed to get out of Emma. And what kind of selfish man would he be if he didn’t oblige a woman’s wish?
He landed his palm on her again, and she whimpered, clutching the edge of the sink. Damn her. Quickly, a redness spread across her plump cheek, and he almost interrupted his spanking to kiss it.
Arranged sex shouldn’t be this much fun.
She liked when he was in control. And he liked being in control—since any way else was impossible, he could control this. Not the desire, but the execution, and he’d damn well take advantage of every second.
…
Emma gripped the edge of the sink. The touch of his hand seared her ass, and the sting spread across the cheek, branding her. She offered her ass to him one more time, perking it up, and he groaned, then smacked her harder.
Her clit throbbed, anticipation pounding in her veins. Perhaps listening to her silent plea, he squeezed her cheeks, then kneaded them, the vigorous massage doing little to relax her.
No wonder women lost their heads over Nico—he was a goddamn sex genius.
His cock poked her, and she felt the cum trickling from his tip. She licked her lips and wished they were in a soundproof room and not in a suite thousands of feet from the ground.
Sure, his flight crew came across as discreet and professional, but she couldn’t shout from the top of her lungs with them around. And she wanted to—God, how much she wanted to.
She turned around, needing to see his face, to touch it, to kiss it. He lifted her feet from the floor and placed her on the sink, and she parted her legs, quivering with need.
He cupped her face and moved closer to kiss her, but then he paused for a moment, and those gorgeous eyes took her breath away. A blend of lust and another emotion she couldn’t detect—a dark sentiment buried in the golden flecks—gleamed in them, setting her pulse on fire.
He fused his lips with hers, and she kissed him with a hunger that astonished her. She stroked her tongue with his, loving the possessive way he nudged her thighs apart and inched closer. Feeling bold, she cupped his cock through his pants, his hard-on greeting her with the fast precision of a military salute.
“Yes,” he told her, encouraging her to keep caressing him. “Dio, Emma, touch me,” he said, then kissed her so hard she lost her balance for a moment. Nothing else mattered but their raw desire for each other.
She unzipped his pants, and fumbled with the black boxer briefs to pull out his cock. In her hand, it throbbed, the veins coming alive, as she felt his blood rushing to the tip. She traced the moist head, and with the tip of her finger, rubbed some of his cum along his hot rod. He trembled, and she loved it.
He slid his hand into her underwear, cupping her pussy, and she almost came then and there. “Fuck, Emma. This is all for me?” he asked, thrusting three fingers inside her wetness.
She writhed against his hand, in a hot search for release. He flicked her achy clit with his thumb, and she moaned. Loud, not caring who heard her at this point. Discretion be damned. She sank her nails into his neck, scratching him, a primitive part of her longing to leave a mark on him as he left one on her. Every time.
“Answer me,” he said, removing his fingers from her.
She whimpered, confused. A cold draft replaced the delightful, warm response his digits never failed to deliver. He pressed his hand into her waist, holding her steady, and stared down at her, his eyes blazing into hers. “What?” she whispered.
“Is this all for me?” he asked, enunciating each word.
“Yes, Nico,” she said, breathless. “It’s all for you.”
He plunged his fingers inside her, harder, deeper, without breaking eye contact for one second. She chewed her lip, loving how he grew in her hand, his thick girth expanding, only increasing her hunger for him. God, she wanted this cock inside her.
“Fuck me, Nico,” she said, tugging at his cock so there would be no mistake.
“Sweet Emma finally learned a bad word,” he said, nipping her lip. A bolt of arousal moved through her, fast, sizzling her nerve endings, driving her insane. “You deserve a prize.”
He pressed the head of his cock against her entrance, his cum rubbing against her folds. She nearly combusted, and scooted to the edge of the counter to increase the friction. Instead of straight-up thrusting, he took his dick on a tour of her cunt, outlining her folds, teasing her clit. With the other hand, he pulled up her shirt and removed her breasts from her bra.
Shit. The man had a talent… “Nico. God. You want to kill me?”
He pinched her nipple, and a tingle shot up her breast and through her body, in opposite directions until it turned into a hot throb burning her insides. He pushed her down and soon began sucking her breast, his tongue tracing over her tight nipple, his mouth claiming her mound.
She undulated her hips, increasing the pressure, his large cock so close yet so far. He bit the skin around her nipple, and she let out another loud moan. “Please…please…”
“Please what?” he said, raising his face from her breast and looking at her.
“Fuck me right now. With your cock.”
A shameless grin formed on his sexy lips, and he shifted, drilling into her with one powerful thrust. Her inner muscles clung to him, never wanting to let go. Soon, the bravado left his face as he kept fucking her, each time harder, deeper, and each time an intense line formed on his forehead.
She wrapped her legs around him, taking him deeper, ready to milk him any way she could. “Yes. Oh, yes.”
He held her hands in his, and they both trembled when he retreated halfway only to return one more time and fill her all the way to the hilt. Unable to take any more of that delicious torture, she let go, quivering, the pleasure spreading from her core to her curling toes.
Soon after, he came, filling her with a warm load. Even after they both stopped trembling, he still held her, and she kept her legs around him.
When he moved, gently, he withdrew, pulled up his pants, then carried her to the bed. The whole four steps in his arms made her foolishly reenergized. When he eased her onto the mattress, she sighed.
“One
of these days, can you teach me how to do a killer blowjob?”
He pursed his sexy lips. “You got it.”
“I’ve always sucked at it…” She laughed at her choice of words.
“I’m sure you’ll redeem yourself.” He plopped on the bed next to her and crossed his legs.
This was weird, spending time with him without sex for a buffer. She reached for the pillow under the bedspread and clutched it. He stared at the ceiling, and she should too—not to get caught gawking at him.
Sure, maybe he wasn’t marriage material, but damn the man was fine.
“Why are you looking at me?” he asked, turning to face her.
Shit. “Ugh, I was thinking… Have you ever slept with that bartender?” She said the first thing that came to her mind. Better than to give his ego deep strokes.
“Skylar? No,” he said without hesitating.
She smiled inwardly, and a foolish wave of pride washed over her. “She acted like she knew you. Said every month she sees you with a new girl. Mentioned something about last month’s girl.”
“That’d be impossible, considering I haven’t flown with anyone in a few months,” he said truthfully. “And yeah, Skylar tried a couple of times, but nah.”
“Why not?”
“Because I use this airfield often, and she works here, and I don’t want to make things complicated. You know, seeing her after I finished screwing around with her.”
Emma turned and glanced at the ceiling. No wonder he hadn’t been onboard with her plan at first, and it’d taken some convincing. What would their relationship be like after she hooked Simon again and—
She willed the thought away. She didn’t need to see him every day, just when her brother held dinner parties. Zaine would be returning from Africa in three weeks for his wedding, but she imagined he’d be way too busy for tons of socializing. Especially with a baby on the way.
Either way, she’d survive seeing Nico again after they ended their bizarre deal. She had to, otherwise her heart would pay the hefty price. A cold chill rolled into her stomach. Get it together, girl. All she needed to do was keep quiet about Desmorais’s sanctuary project and her role in it. When the time came and Nico made his offer to Desmorais, the Frenchman would decline it. She’d have done her job—to bring him to Desmorais.
Chapter Seven
“Are you ready?” Emma asked him.
Am I? He pressed his hand on the small of her back and tilted his head in the direction of the ballroom of one of the best hotels in Port Louis. Also the hotel where they’d checked in the previous day. “Yes.”
A gorgeous red gown hugged her delectable curves. The stylist had called it a mermaid dress because of the shape, and Nico wouldn’t be surprised if she started enchanting all the men in attendance. Emma looked stunning.
Hopefully, Desmorais would agree and hear his tempting offer.
He’d lost so much after his mother’s death. Well, even before she died… He’d lost her the moment she’d been officially diagnosed. Why was recovering some of those happy memories so bad? He swallowed.
“Let’s do it,” Emma said, egging him on. She flashed him one of those incredibly naïve smiles she didn’t know she pulled off. A smile that clawed its way down his throat and clutched his heart.
He glanced at the line of impeccably clad guests, the men in their smoking suits and women wearing sequined dresses, holding jewel-encrusted clutches, and some even had on coveted fur wraps. He flexed and relaxed his fingers, skimming around the large space filled with guests, tables, and waiters.
I’m finally here. One step closer to meeting Desmorais. The opportunity to buy back what was taken from him. His father was a piece of work and never really cared for his feelings, which suited Nico fine, since talking about them never made it to his priority list.
A thrill of excitement bolted through him.
The hostess took them to their seats, ones he had paid good money for. A band on the stage played songs he didn’t immediately recognize, but the melodies would have soothed his nerves if he weren’t so freaking anxious. Relax, man. You got this.
“You know what’s funny?” Emma leaned closer, and he caught a whiff of her sweet and spicy floral scent.
He popped his knuckles. “What?”
She tilted her head to one side then nudged his chest playfully. “You’re the billionaire, and you want to make a deal because of my connection.”
He bit back a smile. “Touché, Emma. Now that we’re here, I’m counting on you to work your magic and hold your part of the bargain.”
“Here’s an idea. What if I walk around to see if I can find Desmorais? Casually bump into him, ask him how he’s doing, so when I introduce you it doesn’t seem so staged, since you’ve been trying to get a hold of him since forever?”
“Good idea.”
She flashed him a smile that seared his insides. Damn her. Diavola.
He watched her stand and zigzag among the arriving guests, the heat inside him only growing at each step she took, her hips swaying in time with the sensual song the band played. Damn her. If she wasn’t so set on getting her loser boyfriend back—
Nico touched his collar. Even if Simon wasn’t game, she couldn’t just be his fuck buddy. Emma wanted and deserved a whole lot more, and he couldn’t give it to her. Hell, Zaine knew as much, which was why he’d probably resent him, too. No matter how old you are, you never want to see your sister bang the less likely to commit.
Unlikely. He squared his shoulders. Not less likely.
A waiter handed him a flute of champagne, and he drank the bubbly in one quick gulp, fully aware he needed hard liquor to endure the rest of the evening.
“Nico Giordano?” asked a man walking up to him.
Nico blinked, recognizing James Perry, an oil giant from Houston. Someone he’d made business deals with on the East Coast and whom he met at functions and had exchanged a word or two. Nico stood and gave him a firm handshake. “James Perry. Small world.”
Tall, lanky James nodded. “I know. I did some business with Elton Lewis in the past. He’s helping organize this shindig,” the fifty-something-year-old said, circling his finger. “Insisted I come. So here I am. What’s your excuse?”
“Emma Cavanaugh, my girlfriend, is big into charity,” Nico said. He’d shared his eagerness to buy the house with only family and close friends. The business world had taught him to keep important things to himself.
“Girlfriend?” James whistled. “Wow. I can’t believe you. Actually, I’ll believe it when I see it. Nico Giordano, whipped.”
Nico lifted his hand in disagreement. “I said girlfriend. Not wife.”
James took a sip of his scotch. “You say that, my friend. That’s how it all begins. Pretty soon you’ll be her lapdog.”
“Oh, please. Lapdogs are for suckers. You might as well hand over your balls on a tray, because you won’t be needing them anymore.”
James started to laugh, then his face sobered, and he reached for the tumbler he’d left on the table.
Nico frowned. “What, are you sensitive about a lapdog joke? Should I search for teacup Chihuahuas in your closet?”
A clearing of a throat made Nico turn around, to see Desmorais, the man he’d been trying to impress. He’d seen only a picture or two of the older gentleman online, though the intense glare on his oval face had nothing gentle about it.
With thinning hair but not yet bald, Desmorais stared at him with fire in his brown eyes. Nico’s blood froze. What could he possibly have done to upset the man he’d never met in person?
A short man with trimmed hair and slick glasses stood next to Desmorais with the terrified look of an assistant. He opened his mouth, but with a hand gesture, Desmorais silenced him, and the assistant drew in a sharp breath, then snapped his jaw shut.
Whatever happened, he wouldn’t miss the opportunity he’d come for. “Monsieur Desmorais, I’m honored to meet you, sir,” he said, stretching out his hand. “Nico Giordano. I’
ve come a long way to contribute to this worthy cause.”
Desmorais glanced down at his hand without moving a muscle. Then the man shook his head, more to himself than to Nico, and with a snort, walked away from them. The assistant followed him, and they spoke in French.
His gut clenched. Shit. Where the hell was Emma? If she’d been here, she’d have made an introduction to clear the air.
James patted him on the shoulder. “Damn. Doesn’t seem he likes you much.”
“That could be a problem, since I want to do business with him,” Nico said, annoyance lacing his words.
“It’ll be all right. Why don’t you ask that girlfriend of yours for help? Cavanaugh, you said? Isn’t she the one in charge of the animal sanctuary he’s building at his home?”
Animal sanctuary? At his home? Shock crept into his bloodstream, freezing his veins for a moment. Nico reached for his collar, slipping a finger into it to make sure it wasn’t too tight. “What are you talking about?”
“Elton mentioned it to me. Said the fund-raiser today is a good way to weed out donors for a future project. Get this: the old man lives on a kickass property he wants to turn into a sanctuary. But he doesn’t want the word to get out yet, because he’s still getting licenses approved and shit.”
“And Elton told you all this?”
James shrugged. “Yeah, I think he wants to start searching for donors already. Hey, maybe you can talk to him and see if you can get in on it, too. Could be a good way to get on the old man’s good side.”
Disappointment squeezed his chest. Emma had known this all along and never told him. Not once did she say she’d be effectively working on the project to rip away his dream. He curled his fingers into fists, his pulse thrumming in his temples. She’d lied to him.
“Excuse me,” Nico said, tuning out the additional information James told him.
He made his way through the ballroom, uneasiness settling in his gut. Another question pounded in his ears. Why did Desmorais ignore him? Was it because he was talking to James Perry? No, since Perry had been a guest, friends with Elton, who’d helped Desmorais organize the fund-raiser. Had she told Desmorais about Nico’s plan? Had they shared a good laugh at his expense?
Good Girl's Bad Lessons Page 6