‘Your argument is very persuasive,’ she conceded, and raising her head she caught the flicker of surprise in his dark eyes. ‘I would have to be a fool to refuse what you are offering. So, yes, I agree to be your mistress—but with a few guidelines in place.’
‘Guidelines?’ he queried. ‘Maybe your past lovers catered to your every whim, but I am not that type of man. I expect my woman to be available whenever and wherever I want her. No rules but mine apply. After all, in your case that is what I have already paid for.’
‘Sorry, not possible,’ she said with a shake of her head. She could be as businesslike as he was when she had to be. ‘I have a degree in Ancient History and I work as a researcher at the British museum. My hours are nine to five-thirty, sometimes later, Monday to Friday. I spend every weekend visiting my mother at her nursing home in Devon, returning late on Sunday evening. The guidelines I was referring to are that on no account must my father discover the arrangement between us, and obviously not my mother either. It will be solely between us, and that you can come here any evening except Saturday and Sunday.’
Zac looked down at her pale, determined face and was stunned. He’d had no idea she was a graduate and held down a job at a prestigious museum. When she’d said ‘museum’ he had thought she was probably a receptionist at some commercial tourist attraction, like a house of horrors or a toy museum—there were plenty of them scattered around most major cities.
Blinded by lust the moment he set eyes on her, he had leapt to assumptions about her lifestyle with very little evidence and had misjudged her badly. She wasn’t the spoiled, attention-seeking Daddy’s darling he had thought her, and her dislike of the man was obviously one hundred percent genuine.
The knowledge made Zac uneasy—more so when he realised she had actually taken his word against her father’s regarding the theft with barely a quibble, and accepted his offer much more quickly than he had expected.
Then, cynically, he wondered if she was spinning him a line as he recalled the first time he’d met her, in the middle of a working day, elegant and immaculately dressed. Zac could recognise a designer gown when he saw one; he had paid for enough over the years.
‘If what you say is true, Sally, then explain to me how you were free last Friday and looking as if you had just stepped out of Vogue,’ he demanded.
‘I have three designer garments for special occasions that I bought in a secondhand shop here in Kensington. All at least a couple of years out of date, and deposited there by the sort of woman you usually escort, who discard them after a season or sell them,’ she said scathingly.
Zac flinched, reminded of his years in the orphanage, when the clothes he’d worn had all been secondhand, donated by the good citizens of the city.
‘For months I have been researching the history of a collection of Egyptian artefacts that had been stored in the basement for years prior to the new extension of a current exhibition. It happened to preview to the press and dignitaries last Friday morning. My boss asked me to attend the opening to answer any historical queries that might arise, hence the dress. Then he gave me the afternoon off as he knew I wanted to visit my mother.’
Zac flinched again as he recognised the sadness she could not hide shimmering in her blue eyes. Then he wondered if he had imagined it as she raised her head.
Control tightened her exquisite features, and her blue gaze was cold as she continued, ‘Unlike you, apparently a boss that terrifies his employees, my boss Charles is a kind, thoughtful man. The reason I was at Westwold was because I had hoped to persuade my father to come with me and visit mum that night or the next day. Unfortunately for me you arrived! Satisfied…?’
After feeling uneasy about the way he had treated her, by the time she’d finished speaking all he felt was anger. How did the little witch do it? Yet again she had managed to insult him twice, without even blinking an eye.
‘Satisfied? My curiosity, yes, the rest of me, no. But I will be,’ he drawled, and, reaching down, he caught her hand and drew her to her feet. ‘I accept your guidelines, Sally Paxton, and now, as my mistress, you have to accept me.’
Surely he could not possibly mean that they should go to bed here and now?
A trickle of fear snaked down Sally’s spine, and she went hot and cold by turns. But she refused to give in to the emotion. Instead she pulled her hand from his, straightened her shoulders, looked him squarely in the eyes, her own eyes bleak, and simply said, ‘Fine.’
The fine got to Zac; he knew she used the word when she didn’t care one way or the other. Well, he was going to make her care, he vowed.
‘Good. You can start by stripping off that outfit that covers you from head to toe,’ he suggested. ‘Or I will—the choice is yours.’
He meant it. He actually expected her to cold-bloodedly strip naked in front of him. Not content with virtually blackmailing her into being his mistress, he wanted to humiliate her as well.
Sally’s cool control finally shattered. ‘If I had a choice I’d never set eyes on you again,’ she told him, eyes blazing. ‘I hate you.’
‘Hate is better than indifference.’ He shrugged his broad shoulders. ‘You agreed to be my mistress, and the only choice you have left is the one I just gave you, Sally.’ His voice dropped to a low, menacing drawl. ‘And if you don’t make up your mind quickly I will do it for you.’
Swept along on a white-hot tide of burning rage, Sally unzipped her top and shrugged it off her shoulders, then slipped the pants down her hips and stepped out of them.
His dark eyes swept over her, and the hint of a smile tilted the corners of his mouth as he noted the white cotton knickers and sports bra. ‘Very virginal—and we both know you are not. Just as well, because I prefer my women experienced, and wearing silk and lace or nothing at all.’
In a second of blinding clarity Sally saw her salvation. She was not mistress material, as he would quickly discover, and given his declared tastes Zac would not hang around long. Instead of trying to resist him in bed she should encourage him. The quicker she got it over with, the quicker he would be gone.
‘As you wish.’ She unfastened her bra and let it fall, then hesitated. Reminding herself he had seen it all, she gathered her courage and stripped off her briefs, and in a show of bravado straightened to her full height and flung her arms wide. ‘What you see is what you get,’ she said, and pirouetted on her toes.
But she did not complete the circle.
Zac gathered her up in full spin and strode over to the bed. Sweeping back the embroidered cotton cover, he dropped her so hard she bounced.
Chapter Eight
HE STOOD menacingly over her, blocking out most of the daylight that was left, and suddenly the anger that had got her this far deserted her. What was she thinking of? Had she taken leave of her senses? She couldn’t do this…
‘Don’t even think about it,’ he commanded.
He had read her mind. How did he do that? she wondered, and saw him take something from his pants pocket and drop it on the bedside table before whipping his tee shirt over his head and dropping it on the floor.
Helplessly, she stared up at him, her fascinated gaze taking in the masculine perfection of his great body, and the thin line of black hair arrowing down over the strong packed band of muscles over his ribcage and then lower, as he shrugged out of the rest of his clothes.
‘There is no changing your mind this time, Sally,’ he drawled with implacable determination in his tone.
She swallowed hard. Totally nude and aroused he was magnificent. He was also vastly experienced, and she felt hopelessly inadequate. With that thought came another. She suddenly realised she had no guarantee he would save her father.
‘But what if you change yours?’ she asked. ‘How do I know you will honour your side of the deal?’
He tensed, his dark eyes seeking hers. ‘Because we made a deal and I gave you my word. My word is my bond.’
She didn’t question why, but she believed him—not
that it stopped her nerves from leaping all over the place at the thought of what was about to happen, nor her adding, ‘Even if you think I am really bad?’
‘I certainly hope so. I rather like bad women.’ Zac gave a low, husky chuckle and slid in beside her. Leaning up on one elbow, he let his gaze sweep leisurely over her long-legged curvaceous figure. She had a body made for sex, and he wondered why he had wasted so much time with tall, stick-thin women.
‘Perfection,’ he husked, and began to caress her with long light strokes, from her shoulders to her breasts, her narrow waist, the curve of her hips. He felt her tense, but he did not linger in any one spot, long fingers trailing over her flat stomach and down the length of her leg, then back up her other leg to circle her belly button, and higher to graze the tips of her breasts. He watched the hardening nipples with a hunger he refused to give in to…yet…He didn’t want a passive lover; he wanted a passionate lover.
He saw her blue eyes widen, and the pupils expand and darken involuntarily. He heard her breathing quicken, heard the small whimpers of delight she could not control from her lushly parted lips, felt her small hand slip around his back and tentatively stroke up his spine. He had her, she was his, but he resisted the incredible urge to kiss her.
Instead he continued to caress her throat, and down the valley between her breasts. The tight nipples were pouting for his attention while his hand slid lower to the hidden valley between her thighs. Her legs parted for him, and it took every ounce of control he possessed not to take her there and then.
He pressed the heel of his hand on her soft mound and raised his head to look down at her beautiful face, flushed with arousal, and he made a husky-voiced promise. ‘I am going to pleasure you more than any man has ever done before, Salmacis.’
Sally stared wildly up at Zac. He was torturing her, but it was an exquisite torture. The brushing, teasing softness of his fingers was driving her insane. She was hot and aching, and with a bravado she hadn’t thought she was capable of she let her free hand sweep down over his chest and then lower, to touch his erection. She heard him groan, ‘No…’ and an impish smile curved her kiss-starved lips.
‘Do you mean that?’ she asked breathlessly, and with one finger traced the smooth, silken tip. Fascinated, she let her hand curl around the hard, pulsing length of him. Her fingers would not meet around the girth, but that did not stop her stroking down to the base and slowly retracing the path back up again.
‘No…yes…’ he groaned again, and, grasping her wrist, he pulled her hand up his body. ‘Always the tease,’ he breathed against her lips, and then, rearing up, he grasped her hands and pushed them above her head, to anchor them there with one of his as his mouth came crashing down on hers in a kiss of awesome passion.
She was pinned beneath him, and he took full advantage of her helpless state. With lips and tongue he teased and tantalised, sucking on the pulse beating madly in her throat and then moving lower to draw a rigid nipple into his mouth and suckle some more. Her back arched and she tried to free her wrists. But his clasp tightened as he kissed, nipped, stroked and licked every throbbing inch of her. His long fingers finally slipped between her thighs to dip into her moist core, finding and toying with the sensitive nub hiding there to devastating effect.
Crazy with excitement, she writhed beneath him as an incredible tension built and built inside her. Just when she thought she could take no more he let her hands free, and she moaned out loud as for a moment she quivered on the brink of some wondrous place she could barely imagine.
He reached across to the table, then grasped her hips and lifted her off the bed. She felt the tip of his shaft slide between her thighs. Involuntarily she wrapped her legs around his waist and her slender arms around his neck, to pull him to her, and her mouth opened beneath his with a white-hot hungry need her body recognised as he plunged into her.
She cried out with a pain she had not expected, and his great body stilled.
He looked into her eyes, his own black and burning like living coals of fire. ‘You’re a virgin.’
‘Was…’ she murmured distractedly, the acute stab of pain easing and the promise of exquisite pleasure returning as her body adjusted to the rigid fullness of him. She wriggled her hips and clasped her arms a little tighter around his neck.
‘What are you doing?’ Zac demanded, about to pull back, but she wrapped her legs even tighter around his waist.
‘I don’t know—I thought you did.’ She gave him a wicked smile.
Zac grinned, then grimaced in an effort to still his raging body. He looked into her incredible eyes, the pupils big and dark with sensual hunger, and yet humour lurked.
Something squeezed in his chest at the same time as her inner muscles clenched around him. He had never felt anything like it in his life. He caught her husky moans of pleasure in his mouth and began to move slowly. She was so tight he was afraid of hurting her, and, hanging on to his control by a thread, he pushed inch by inch into her sleek silken sheath and then slowly withdrew. Again and again he stroked into the honeyed depths, and only when he felt her whole body begin to convulse in the ultimate pleasure, and heard her keening cry, did his iron control break free. Helpless in the throes of a sensual storm, he plunged hard and fast to join her in an earth-shattering climax.
He rolled on to his back, carrying Sally with him, and held her close against his heaving chest. He had never known a woman like her. Her fabulous body was sinfully sexy, and so instantly responsive to his slightest touch. Usually for Zac sex was a relaxing exercise, with a like-minded woman, during which the sole aim was to make the right moves and lead to a satisfactory conclusion for both.
But with Sally it was a sensual feast—and fun…He couldn’t believe she had been a virgin. He had never made love to a virgin in his life. He had always steered well clear of the innocent type. But now, in a totally proprietorial way, he found enormous satisfaction in knowing he had initiated the lovely Salmacis into the joys of sex, and also oddly protective.
‘Are you all right, Sally?’ he rasped a long moment later, when his breathing had slowed, and he smoothed the hair from her forehead with a hand that was not quite steady. She hadn’t said a word—maybe he had hurt her. He had lost control at the end, and he was a big man with everything in proportion.
Suddenly it occurred to him why she had said no the other night. She had not been teasing; it had been a totally justifiable virginal fear of the unknown, which somehow made him feel a lot better, and yet worse at the same time. He had come on to her like a ton of bricks because he’d thought she was an experienced woman, and nothing could have been further from the truth.
Sally lay against Zac’s chest and listened to his rapid heartbeat beneath her cheek. She heard his question, felt his hand on her head, but didn’t look up. She couldn’t…she was still throbbing internally in the aftermath of the most amazing experience of her life. Her body felt heavy, but paradoxically she was light-headed with the wonder at what had happened.
Never in her wildest dreams had she imagined sex to be so all-consuming—an intensely erotic ride on a one-way ticket to the stars. Zac wasn’t just a magnificent lover, he was the absolute perfect lover, she was sure. But as the tremors finally subsided, and she relaxed into a lazy lethargy with his great body beneath her and the musky scent of sex all around them, she slowly began to recall her own eager, almost brazen actions, and she was embarrassed by them.
‘Sally?’ He tugged lightly on her hair. ‘I asked you if you are okay.’
She had to face him some time, and, pressing her hands against his chest, she slipped down to lie at his side, casting him a sidelong glance. ‘I‘m fine,’ she murmured, feeling inexplicably shy.
Zac rolled off the bed. ‘I need the bathroom,’ he grated.
‘In the hall, opposite the kitchen,’ Sally murmured, but he was already striding across the room, totally at ease with his naked state. Sally watched his progress, secretly admiring his tight bum and broad back. Ta
ll, lithe and golden, he moved like a sleek jungle cat—all hard-packed muscle and sinew, with not a trace of fat on his massive frame. He was her lover, and a delicious little shiver stirred her sated body.
He had worn a condom—hence the bathroom, she suddenly realised. Good, she told herself, but the unbidden thought entered her head, that while she had been lost in mindless ecstasy Zac had still had all his wits about him, and had taken no chances with his bachelor state.
Zac stood in the bathroom, his hands clasping either side of the basin, his head bowed. The best sex of his life, and he had been damned with ‘fine’. Not wonderful, not awesome, not even good. No, he’d got fine. On top of which he felt slightly ashamed—not an emotion he usually suffered from—because he had given her no choice but to sleep with him.
Sally had the ability to confuse and confound him like no other woman he had known, and for the first time in his adult life he actually doubted his sexual prowess. But only for a second.
He lifted his head and ran his hands through his hair. Sally had been with him all the way. She could not have faked her response. She had been like a living flame in his arms. It was her first time, so perhaps she was simply lost for words? And he should not have left her so abruptly—in his experience women liked to be cuddled after sex.
Having analysed her reaction to his own satisfaction, he dismissed the niggling doubt he felt and left the bathroom.
He stopped by the bed and looked down at her. Her glorious red hair was spread across a pillow in a tangled mass of curls, her lips were swollen from his kisses, her exquisite body was spread across the white sheet in lax abandon, and instantly he began to harden again.
Untamed Italian, Blackmailed Innocent Page 9