But he wanted to take it slowly. Or as slowly as he could bring himself to, he amended.
He dipped his head and lay delicate kisses along her inner thigh, until he reached the blonde heart of her desire. He brushed his tongue against her most intimate part and was rewarded by her sharp intake of breath. Her fingers were clutching the duvet cover, but even without that telltale gesture, he could taste her arousal.
His tongue played her, and she made desperate panting noises that were going to be his undoing. She sounded delirious, like she could come at any second. He wanted to share in her pleasure, but he also wanted to drive her wilder than she’d ever felt before. He pulled his lips away and she hit the bed in frustration. She was so close, he understood her urgency. He drove a finger into her and she bucked against the bed, thrashing her head from side to side.
“God, you’re wet,” he drawled. “You’re so ready for me.”
She was. She was completely ready. The intensity of her orgasm scared her. As he pulsed his finger inside her, she felt her whole body split into a million pieces. She rocked on her back, her hips circling in a steady beat. Once her breathing had slowed, and she was returning to Earth, she pushed up on her elbows and stared at him.
“Wow.” She breathed and he couldn’t help the rakish grin that spread across his face.
“That, my dear Claire, was just the beginning,” he promised. His voice held a world of sensuous promise as he broke away from her to pull a condom on. She watched. As the moment of reality approached, she felt a sharp stab of nerves but pushed it aside.
Nate ran a hand admiringly over her smooth skin and pulled her arms up above her head. With one hand he held her firmly prisoner, and with the other, he parted her legs.
“Angel, I’ve been wanting this since the first moment I saw you. Are you ready?” His words were just whispers against her side. She nodded silently.
He was too. He was about to explode if he didn’t take her. He’d been denying himself this pleasure out of misplaced loyalty to that bitch of an ex-wife of his. Well, no longer.
He always got what he wanted, and this was no exception. Filled with an arrogant sense of triumph, he took her swiftly, driving into her hard and fast. An unfamiliar barrier stilled him and he froze, his shocked eyes scanning her face carefully. Her features were contorted briefly with discomfort and, unmistakably, pain. Her expression confirmed what he had just felt.
“What the hell? You’re a virgin?” He asked through gritted teeth, his breath coming in ragged bursts.
“Not anymore,” she said with an attempt at humour. She moaned as her need for satisfaction intensified. “Please, don’t stop,” she implored desperately, running her hands over his chest, feeling the way his muscles bunched beneath her touch. “I might have been a virgin, but you’re turning me into a sex addict.” She lifted her pelvis, driven by ancient feminine instincts, and he felt his control slipping away.
He tried to be gentle, but when he was hard and fast, she loved it. Her nails were scratching into his back, and she probably didn’t even realise that she was screaming full volume into the hotel suite. He plunged into her again, and he knew it was wrong, but he also knew this was the most incredible experience of his life.
The moment she tipped over into that heavenly relief, he did too, spilling into her. A guttural cry was ripped from him as he came with an intensity that overpowered him.
“Shit.” He rolled away, his head clouded with emotions he usually didn’t like to have complicate his sex-life. “Why the hell did you come up here tonight, Claire? You must have known I had no idea you were a virgin.” His voice was raised, his tone condemnatory.
“Would it have made a difference?” She snapped jerkily, hurt that the most amazing thing she had ever experienced was being tarnished by his apparent anger.
“You bet your sweet ass it would have made a difference. I’m not in the habit of breaking in virgins,” he growled, standing up and running a hand through his hair. “How is it even possible that you’ve never done that before?”
She coloured. “I just haven’t.”
“What was this all about? A quick roll in the hay and you can say you lost your virginity to a billionaire?” A thought occurred to him. “Oh, God. You are of legal age, aren’t you?”
Her heart squeezed painfully at his crassness. “Of course I am. And it wasn’t about anything other than sex. You said it yourself – there was an attraction between us.” She pulled the duvet over her naked self and sat up.
“You should have told me.” He said stiffly, looking anywhere but at her.
“I don’t recall you asking.”
“Why the fuck would I ask someone like you if you’re a virgin?” He let out a laugh. “You must know I presumed we were playing the same game.”
“And what game is that?”
“Two experienced adults agreeing to have a bit of fun. You were a virgin.” He paced the room, dragging a hand through his hair. “I feel sick.”
“Thanks a lot,” she responded dryly, hurt ripping through her.
He shot her a fulminating stare. “Why didn’t you just say? You owed me a heads up, at least.”
She bit down on her lower lip. “I thought it would scare you off.”
“You’re damned right it would have scared me off. As it should have.” He slammed a palm against the wall, angry with himself, furious with her, and feeling like a prick of the highest order. “Claire, let me absolutely frank. I am not interested in a relationship. I was not interested in anything other than a one night stand when I invited you up here. To that end, the women I usually choose to sleep with are of the same mindset as me.”
“Ugh,” she rolled her eyes. “I knew you were arrogant, but I didn’t think you were this bad!” She yelled at him, standing, and dropping the duvet as she did so. She didn’t care. She got dressed in front of him, pulling her undies on, and her jeans, all the while, her rage was a palpable force.
“For your information, Nate, I’m not interested in a relationship with you any more than you are with me. I don’t particularly care if I never see you again,” she intoned harshly. She didn’t register the way his eyes narrowed. “You’re right. I did want to lose my virginity. A twenty four year old who’s never had sex is an anachronism these days and I was curious. I thought you would have the requisite experience to make it a pleasurable experience, and I was right. You mightn’t have known I was a virgin, but we both knew what we were getting into tonight. Meaningless sex.”
He rubbed a hand across his eyes in an attempt to calm down. His temper was red hot. “You don’t have the slightest idea what you’re talking about. You’re a child.”
“Whatever,” she snapped derisively, hands on hips, hair flowing loose about her face.
“Just...” he wiped his eyes with the palm of his hand. “Just stay here,” he ordered, disappearing into the bathroom. A moment later, she heard the water running and her pride took an even greater blow. Was he seriously interrupting their argument to go and shower her off? What a pig.
Well, she wasn’t going to wait around to be yelled at again. Pulsing with physical and emotional sensations that were totally new, she scooped up her handbag and let herself out of the apartment as quietly as she could. She ran to the lift, pressed the button, but when it didn’t appear instantly, decided to take the stairs instead. She threw open the fire escape and took the steps two at a time, all the way to the bottom. Her lungs felt like they were on fire when she reached street level and she gratefully pushed out into the freezing October evening and made her way to the nearest tube station.
She didn’t relax until she was back in Earls Court, and the tiny little bedsit she had rented when she and Robert had first fled to the city. Everything looked and felt different through the veil of hurt pride. She hadn’t expected him to be the love of her life, but she’d thought he was at least... nice. Nice? What a stupid word for a man like Nate Anderson. He was powerful. Dynamic. Terrifying. Larger than li
fe. Dominant. Her usual warning beacon had clearly been out of action when she allowed herself to get caught up in his spell.
Missy showered, gingerly washing between her legs, noting a stiff pain from muscles that had never before been used. Despite the humiliation, she felt a flush of pleasure as she remembered Nate’s skilful lovemaking. No. Sex. It wasn’t love. There wasn’t anything remotely loving about it, and certainly not about the way he’d looked at her afterwards. Her heart flopped over in pain as she remembered the way he’d spoken to her, the disdain he’d felt for her.
She had expected to feel guilty for her rash decision, but she didn’t. She was thrilled to be rid of her virginal status, and the pleasure she’d experienced made it all worthwhile. Almost. It hurt like hell that he had been so angry, so dismissive, but she never had to see him again.
The next day, Missy dressed nervously for work. She was worried Nate would seek her out, to berate her again for not advising him of her inexperience. Worse, that there’d be some kind of fallout for her at her job. She had just slept with the boss, after all. Her worst fears were confirmed when the manager met her at the door to the restaurant, as she arrived.
“Look, Missy, you know I think you’re a great waitress, and most customers love you. But I’ve had a complaint from a regular and I’m going to have to let you go.”
Missy felt her skin prickle. Her heart dropping, she asked, “Who? Who complained?”
“A chap named Randall Hodges. He’s CEO of a petroleum company. He said you were being inappropriate, making passes at him. He’s married, Missy, and his wife is one of our regulars, too. I’m sorry, but I’m sure you can understand it would be inappropriate to retain you under the circumstances.”
Missy leant against the door jamb, feeling like the wind had been knocked right out of her. That fat little jerk! How dared he? She tried to explain to Dean but he had insisted his hands were tied. There was nothing for it. Missy absolutely couldn’t afford to be without a job. The rehab facility Robert was in was only part-subsidised by the National Health Service, which meant she was already struggling to cover the hefty bills for his treatment. That was before she even thought about repaying the debts that had started this whole nightmare in the first instance.
The economy was pretty dire. Missy spent the next fortnight applying for jobs, watching her bank balance dwindling with desperation. Waitressing positions though abundant were hotly contested and easily filled. Missy was generally seen as too qualified for hospitality; she’d been lucky to land the job that she’d had. She had thought Dean fancied her a bit, and that had led him to offering her something on the spot.
Over-qualified she undoubtedly was, yet she daren’t look for something in her field, lest the thugs who Robert owed money to tracked her down that way. She needed work that kept her under the radar and minimized the risk of exposure. She also needed work she could pick up immediately, and walk away from without a second thought.
For the millionth time, a pair of scathing black eyes came to mind and she shook her head to clear the disturbing image. The only silver lining to being unemployed and broke was that she had been distracted from her treacherous thoughts of Nate Anderson. At night, he filled her dreams, and her mind went to him more frequently than she liked by day. But now, with poverty fast approaching, she thought of him glumly. She had promised herself that she would never see him again.
Missy was proud. But pride cometh before a fall, and right now, she was in dire circumstances. If it had only been her, she would have held on longer. But Robert... she couldn’t let him get kicked out of rehab just because she couldn’t afford the cost.
Her mind turned to Nate again. He owned the hotel; surely he could pull some strings to get her job back. And if not her old job, possibly something else in the hotel. She would do anything to stave off going into debt. Cleaning, reception work, anything.
Missy looked at the electronic clock on her bedside table. It was eight o’clock on a Friday night. Would he be at the hotel? A thought struck her. Perhaps he’d already flown back to the States. She knew he had been in London on business, but not what kind of business, nor how long he intended to remain in town. She had no other options. If she contacted anyone back home, she might be discovered. Loathe as she was to see him again, she had to try.
She dressed with care. Missy didn’t want a repeat of the other night, but her feminine pride dictated that she should look her conservative best. It was icy cold and she pulled a black woollen dress from her wardrobe. It was knee length and pretty, and the soft jersey wool minimised her curves as much as possible. A pale green cardigan over the top further obfuscated her cleavage.
The tubes were always frequent through Earls Court and she hopped onto the first train that came along. As she approached the hotel, she felt almost debilitated by nerves. Only the thought of her bottoming bank balance propelled her forward.
The hotel was a Georgian building that had been converted in the late 19th century. It was impossibly grand under any circumstances, but now, filled with anxiety over their ill-conceived one night stand, Missy felt butterflies wreak havoc over her entire body. She thought of her brother, and swallowed away her hesitation. She had to do this. She had to be brave, for both of them.
Despite the lateness of the hour, she wore dark sunglasses and a hooded jacket. For over a month she had worked in the hotel and she didn’t want to be recognised by anyone. Guiltily, she pulled the room key from her bag. She hadn’t intended to keep it, but she must have unconsciously returned it to her pocket that night. She hadn’t realised until it was too late to give it back.
Now, it came in handy, as it gave her access to the private penthouse.
It was dark inside. She called out cautiously, tentatively, but he obviously wasn’t here. Feeling like the worst kind of stalker, she leant against the wall and slumped down, slowly dropping to the ground. All the adrenalin it had taken to get her there tonight puffed away and suddenly Missy was worried.
She sat on the carpeted floor, head on her knees, for hours. It was torture being back here, knowing she had to confront the last person on earth she ever wanted to see again.
Just before midnight, Missy looked up as she heard the elevator doors whoosh open.
Larger than life and even more handsome and desirable than she had remembered. Nate Anderson. He was dressed in a dinner suit, black, with a white shirt and black bowtie. Her heart plummeted. He was not alone.
Shock was revealed in his expression, but only fleetingly. It was quickly masked, replaced with cool boredom. He couldn’t have made it any more apparent how little her re-appearance phased him.
Missy pulled herself up to standing, feeling suddenly big and gauche, compared to the dainty woman who stood beside him.
“And who is this, Nate? You’ve been holding out on me.” The woman beside him spoke, her voice rich with an aristocratic tone.
Nate threw her an apologetic smile. “An ex-employee,” he said smoothly. “Frankly, our business was finished weeks ago. I’m not sure what she’s doing here.” He glared at the woman whose virginity he’d been tricked into taking.
Missy felt her toes curl in agonised mortification. Despite what had happened between them, she had not thought him capable of such cruelty. Which just went to show what a naive fool she was.
“I need to speak to you.”
His eyes narrowed as he fully took in her appearance. She was thin, he realised. Her face looked gaunt. It had only been a fortnight since they’d slept together. God knew it had felt like longer. He’d struggled to get through a moment’s work without his desire for her swamping his concentration. She was pale, and her eyes were clouded. He wanted to punish her for running out on him, but her distress was so obvious that he found himself taking uncharacteristic pity on her.
“Cressida,” he said to the silky brunette at his side. “I’m afraid I’m going to have to attend to this. Do you mind if we postpone the rest of our evening?”
Cressid
a nodded and placed a kiss on his cheek, leaving Missy in little doubt as to what she was interrupting. She felt jealousy spear through her at the polite euphemism for what would have no doubt been a far more sophisticated evening of sex than she and Nate had shared.
Nate flicked a light switch and indicated with a tilt of his head for Missy to wait for him in the lounge area. His thunderous expression left her in little doubt of his mood. While Missy waited, and Nate farewelled his companion, she sat in the lounge, wondering how she would broach this. She felt like a school-girl, waiting in the principal’s office, and every second she waited stretched her nerves further and further.
It was only a minute or so before Nate returned. He loosened his tie and fetched himself a measure of scotch. Without asking, he poured a mineral water for Missy and handed it to her.
“Well, well,” he drawled slowly. “And to what do I owe this pleasure?” He spat the word out, leaving Missy under no misapprehensions. It was not a pleasure to see her again. Her face fell and she was glad the room was only dimly lit.
She decided honesty was the best policy.
“I lost my job.” Her voice was almost impossible to hear and she swallowed.
There was a pause while he digested that this was what she had come to speak to him about. It wasn’t because she’d been driven wild by feelings of longing for him at all.
“And?” His tone was caustic.
“I can’t afford not to work.”
“Surely you would have no trouble securing employment,” he mused.
“I’m flattered that you think I’m employable,” she snapped, rubbing at her eyes. “Unfortunately, yours is an opinion not held by anyone hiring.”
He shrugged. “That’s hardly my problem, is it?”
She stifled the urge to cry. “It isn’t your problem, that’s true.”
“Do we have anything further to discuss, then?”
She paused, trying to remember the speech she’d prepared. “I have commitments that must be met. I’m...desperate.” Shame erupted inside her. How she loathed having to ask this man for help!
The Tycoon's Virgin Mistress Page 2