by Snow, Jenika
He shut the door quietly and padded over to her. He should have been in the Special Forces for how fucking stealthy he was. She was running her fingers across the silk of the gown he had bought for her. It was a deep green and would make her look incredible with her curly auburn hair. He placed his hands on her shoulders, and she gasped. She tried to turn around, but he pressed his chest to her back and whispered in her ear.
“Although I know the view in the front is just as spectacular, I’ve been thinking about bending you over this bed all day.” He put his hand on the center of her back and pressed her forward. Her breathing had audibly increased, and she rested her upper body on the mattress with little resistance. He quickly undid his belt and shoved his pants down. His cock sprang forth, and he grabbed a condom and donned it. He slipped his finger between her thighs to test her readiness and groaned when he saw how primed she was.
“Holy fuck, baby, look at how ready you are for me.” He positioned the crest of his dick at her entrance. “I bet you’ve been thinking about my dick in your cunt all day, haven’t you?” She hummed in response, and he gripped her hips. In one quick move he buried himself fully into her tight pussy. He couldn’t be easy with her, not this time. “I’m sorry, baby. I have to do this fast. I’m near to bursting as it is.”
“Oh.” Her face was buried in the sheets, and that one word was a muffled, breathy moan. His balls slapped against her slick pussy lips, and he grunted from the intensity of it. Gripping her waist, he started pulling out and thrusting into her tight little cunt. He let his head fall back and closed his eyes as his orgasm quickly approached. The soft sighs and moans that came from Stella had him reaching one hand around her and rubbing circles around her clit. He wanted her pussy milking his cock when he came.
“Ahhh.” She started thrusting her ass back at him, her cunt gripping his dick like an iron fist.
“Yeah, baby, work that sweet little pussy on me.” He strummed her clit faster and used his other hand to smack her ass. The creamy flesh jiggled from the force of his sensual abuse, so he did it again. Sweat started to coat his skin, and he slammed his hips forward, almost tasting the sweet release that she was about to cause within him.
“Come for me, Stella. Come. Now.”
Her whole body tightened, and she let out a loud cry. Her hands fisted the sheets, and she started swiveling her hips, working her pussy on him as if she could prolong the pleasure. It was a hot sight, and he was close. So damn close. He took his hands, spread her ass cheeks, and watched his cock, glistening with her wetness, slide in and out of her tight pussy.
“Oh God, Tate.”
Yeah, that was what he wanted, her saying his name as she came for a second time. He thrust three more times before burying himself inside of her and grunting as he got off. It was exquisite torture, and as his cum spurted out of him and filled the latex, he wished there was nothing separating them. God, what he wouldn’t give to feel her without a barrier, to feel her inner walls milking his nude cock. It would be sweet torture.
When his cock jerked one last time, he loosened his hold on her and slowly pulled out. She made a sweet sound as he slipped free, one that was tempting him to fuck her once more. He looked at the time, knowing if they were going to make the party, he would have to leave her to get ready.
He grabbed the tux that Miles had hung on the back of the door and left the room. When the door was shut behind him, he couldn’t help but feel the sting in his chest at his departure. He had left her, bent over his bed, without so much as a goodbye. Yeah, he was a fucking asshole, but maybe if she remembered that, and he was able to continue to remind her, this “relationship” wouldn’t end up ruining both of them.
* * *
Stella was seething by the time she was able to push herself off the bed and stand. The fact that Tate had snuck in here, fucked her, and then just left like she was some kind of pocket pussy had the blood pumping through her body and her rage growing. How dare he! It hadn’t been so bad when he was inside of her because she’d been so worked up all day that it was a relief, but when he just pulled out of her and mumbled something about getting ready and then just fucking left, well, that had been the last straw. He didn’t even have the balls to dress in the same room as her.
Grabbing the green silk, she slipped it over her head. It had an empire waist design that was snug right under her breasts and billowed out to fall over her feet. It was a gorgeous dress, and the diamond necklace and chandelier earrings topped it off. When she saw the items and knew Tate had picked them out, her heart had warmed, but after his little fuck-’em-and-leave-’em stunt, she replaced that warmth with ice.
If he wanted to play games, she could play like the rest of them.
13
The drive to the party took nearly an hour. Tate sat on one side of the car, and Stella stayed on the other. The tension in the car was stifling, and Stella wished she had just stayed at the house. Whatever had crawled up Tate’s ass after he fucked her and left was still going strong. He had only said a handful of words to her, and those had only been two-word orders.
She looked over at him and was pissed at herself that she couldn’t help her body’s response to him. He wore that damn tux like he was made for it. His muscles bulged through the onyx material, and she shifted in her seat to ease the arousal that was starting a slow burn inside of her. She turned away from him and looked out the window just as the car pulled up to a guarded gate.
The voices of the driver speaking to the security officer were muffled. The car eased toward a massive three-story home. White lights dotted the willow trees that lined the property, which added to the artificial feeling of safety. Stella knew better than to believe this place was somewhere she could relax and let her guard down.
The car stopped, and a second later her door opened. A young man in a red valet outfit helped her from the car, and she walked over to Tate. He held his arm out for her but didn’t even cast her a glance. Gritting her teeth, she slid her arm through his buff one and let him lead her into the mansion. The music was light and classical, and bodies were everywhere. Glasses of champagne were in each of their hands, and huge smiles were on their faces.
Stella wondered if they were truly as happy as they were letting on. A waiter with a trayful of flutes of golden-colored alcohol walked by, and she took one. Tate glanced down at her and raised an eyebrow. Did he actually expect her to stay sober and pretend to enjoy herself? Lifting the glass to her lips, she downed half of it in one swallow.
Tate leaned forward so only the tips of his lips were touching her ear. A shiver worked through her, and she forced herself not to close her eyes and enjoy the feeling. How in the hell could one man make her feel such intense arousal, even after he had just gotten her off?
“I need you to at least put on the impression that you want to be here with me. If I wanted a lush hanging off my arm, embarrassing me, I could have had my pick of females at the club. Tonight is important to my business, and I expect your compliance.”
She plastered a sugary smile on her face, not knowing where this attitude was coming from but knowing it was damn dangerous. “I didn’t know men in your ‘trade’ needed to put on fake parties to conduct illegal activities.” She could have slapped a hand over her mouth after the words spilled forth. What in the hell was wrong with her? Tate was helping her get her father out of this colossal mess, and here she was screwing it up. His face became hard, and she could hear his teeth grinding together even though music filled the room.
“You’re going to regret saying that when we are back home and I have your bare ass beneath my palm.”
Stella felt her cheeks heat and licked her lips. She needed to remember why she was here. She only needed to get through the next two weeks of doing whatever he said. “Okay, I’m sorry. I’ll behave.”
He nodded once and straightened. Removing his arm from hers, he slid it around her waist, pulling her close to the side of his body. She had to admit it was a damn good feelin
g to be so close to such a strong and virile man as Tate Wessen.
The night progressed, and she found herself by Tate’s side the whole time. The conversations he participated in weren’t anything she would have considered “business,” but she wasn’t stupid and had picked up on a few words that had seemed more code than anything else.
Tate led her over to the corner of the elegantly decorated room, his big body blocking everything else out. “I have to speak with Mr. Barcaloni for a short time. Will you be all right by yourself until I return?” Ever since they had walked into the house, Tate had some part of his body touching hers at all times. Right now she felt his thighs press against hers, his chest brush along her breasts. She inhaled deeply, the champagne washing through her veins, making her hot and needy all in the same breath.
“I think I’ll manage. I can always talk to one of those trophy wives over there.” The women she referred to were decked out in crystal, and their floor-length gowns had jewels adorning them as well.
Tate chuckled and dipped his head so his sweetly scented breath brushed across her mouth. “Those women don’t hold a candle to you.”
She was surprised by his comment and stared into his eyes. He had been so cold and distant after they’d left his home and on the car ride over, but as the night progressed he had grown warmer toward her. Was it the champagne? He hadn’t had nearly as many glasses as she had, but he had drunk a few.
She didn’t miss how his fingers would stroke the bare skin on her back, or how he would run a finger along her collarbone when she wasn’t looking.
“I won’t be too long. I’d take you back there with me, but I’d prefer if you didn’t associate with any of them.”
The way he said it made Stella feel warm and fuzzy inside. She could tell Tate was keeping her away, not because he didn’t want her involved in his life, but because he wanted to keep her at an arm’s distance when it came to the thugs. Of course, she didn’t know for sure if they were thugs, but she knew it was probably a good guess. Tate leaned down and pressed his lips to hers. Stella was never one for PDA, but she admitted that if Tate had asked her to turn around and grab her ankles, she would have.
What in the hell has become of me? Am I really one of those women that would do anything for a gorgeous guy with a big cock? She needed to quit letting her vagina take control.
“You feel that, Stella?” He took her hand and brought it to the front of his slacks. The way she was pushed into the corner by his big body, there was no way anyone could see her groping his dick. A flush spread through her as she felt the scorching heat through his pants. Her breathing ragged, she stroked him through the material and loved the way he grunted and a heavy-lidded look of pleasure created a mask on his face.
“Just having you near me, the scent of you, the way your fucking ass looks in that gown”—he leaned forward and nipped her bottom lip—“makes me so damn hard I can’t walk.” His tongue peeked out and smoothed her bottom lip. “I’m going to fuck you every which way, and it still won’t be enough, but it’ll have to do because I’ll take you any way I can get you.” His tongue slipped into her mouth, and she groaned at the same time. God, he tasted good.
“I’ll be back, baby, and when I am, be ready to go because I need my cock inside of you.” With that, he turned and disappeared within the throng of bodies. How in the hell was he even able to walk with that massive boner in the way?
She looked around and saw that no one had paid them any attention. She had no intention of striking up a conversation with these people, so instead, she grabbed a glass of champagne and headed outside onto the balcony. The air was chilly when she pushed open the double doors. A few couples were in intimate embraces in the shadowed corners. She walked up to the railing and leaned against the cold stone. The view was breathtaking and overlooked a garden and indoor Olympic-sized swimming pool. The enclosure around the pool was made up entirely of glass, and the water looked crystalline blue under the moonlight.
Taking a sip of her drink, she set the glass on the railing and wrapped her arms around herself. The dress was made of the thinnest silk, and even though the warmth inside was appealing, she really didn’t want to be around all those strangers. This wasn’t her scene, not at all. She knew they could tell she was an outsider who was far below their economic status.
It was clear on their faces. It shouldn’t bother her, but it did, and that alone pissed her the fuck off. Why in the hell did she care what a bunch of nobodies thought about her? She wasn’t much of a drinker, but she picked up her glass and drank the rest of it. She’d already had numerous glasses and the alcohol had her warming, but not enough to keep the chill away.
“A lady should never be left unattended, especially one as beautiful as you.”
Stella rolled her eyes but didn’t bother turning around to see who the speaker was. If that wasn’t the lamest pickup line she’d ever heard—well, not the lamest, but pretty damn close. The man stood beside her, a little too close for her comfort, but she refused to be intimidated. She could tell he was a big guy, and she knew guys like him, ones that probably had no problem using lines like he’d just used to pick up women.
“Are you enjoying the party?”
“Yes, thanks for asking.” She didn’t have to be rude, after all, but her response was short and to the point.
“I haven’t seen you around these parties before. Is this your first one?”
Is he serious? She did look at him then, and when she got her first look, she took a step back. The man was huge. Easily as tall as Tate, but not as bulky. What really made him intimidating was the jagged scar that started at his forehead and worked its way across his temple and down his cheek. His hair was dark, but in the night it looked like spilled ink.
“I’ll take your silence as affirmation that this is your first one.” He chuckled, and the sound was deep and husky. He started loosening his tie and then reached in his coat pocket to pull out a pack of cigarettes. He put a thin black cigarette between his lips. “I swear I only smoke when stressed, and I think this night definitely calls for one.” He lit the end and inhaled deeply. The smoke he exhaled smelled like rich spices. He leaned back against the stone, closed his eyes, and ran one of his hands over the back of his neck.
“I’ve always heard clove cigarettes make your lungs bleed.”
“Pft.” He grinned, the clove hanging between his lips. “I like to live on the edge; besides, this can’t be any worse than me getting hit for the sake of a few dollars.” His grin widened. “I mean, who wouldn’t want to make a living beating the shit out of a few guys and not having to pay taxes on it?”
Ah, so this guy was a fighter that most likely worked in the illegal underground octagon. “Well, enjoy yourself.” She turned to leave, but his voice stopped her.
“I’m Byron, and you are?” He raised a brow and inhaled his cigarette. The end lit a brilliant red in the darkened night.
Sighing, she felt like a major bitch when this guy was obviously just trying to strike up a conversation. “I’m Stella. Nice to meet you.” She held her hand out, and Byron looked at it with a smirk before clasping her hand in his. “I’m not going to sleep with you.” She felt like throwing that out there because she really didn’t want him getting the wrong idea. He choked on a laugh and raised his hands in surrender.
“Duly noted.” He smiled around his cigarette and leaned against the railing. “Listen, I didn’t mean to come across like a cheesy jackass with that lame-ass line earlier.”
Stella chuckled and leaned back against the stone railing as well. “Yeah, it was pretty damn cheesy.” They both grinned, and she wrapped her arms around herself again, feeling the biting chill of the wind.
“Here, I’m being a dick.” He shrugged off his tux jacket and held it out to her.
She shook her head. “Thank you, but then you’ll be cold.”
He puffed out his chest, and a serious look came on his face. “I’m a man, and we don’t get cold.” His voi
ce had gone ridiculously low, and she laughed out loud again. She took the jacket and draped the heavy, overly large material around her shoulders. This probably would look bad if Tate saw, but she wasn’t doing anything wrong. Besides, he had left her at this party alone. She was having a nice, innocent conversation with a person that actually seemed real. Anyway, she wasn’t stupid enough to think he would get jealous.
She was, after all, just his pussy on demand.
14
Tate sat across from Alfonso Barcaloni, the man that was hosting this party and a key investor in one of his projects. Alfonso hosted several of these types of parties a month, and even though the majority were to show off his woman of the week, this one held a little more importance to both of them.
“So, Wessen, I see you’ve brought a stunning creature with you this evening.” Alfonso took a long drag from his Cuban cigar and held the smoke in his mouth for several seconds. When he exhaled, it surrounded him, almost giving him the ominous appearance he was known for. “What happened to that gorgeous blonde with the big”—he made a crude gesture on his chest—“tits?”
The woman Alfonso was referring to was Alyssia, one of the girls that frequented the underground fights. She was known to hang on the sidelines, waiting for the winner to emerge and get her fix. She was a fighter chaser, but her big chest, somewhat dim-witted intelligence, and curves always had the men falling for her.
She knew what to say at the right time to have all thoughts leave a man’s head so he would think only about sex. She was a nice piece of arm candy, and ass for that matter, but as he thought about that, he realized she was no Stella Vincent. Just thinking about Stella had him wanting to get this meeting over with so he could get back to her. It had only been a day, but he craved her presence.