Priceless

by Raine Miller

  I was in utter and complete bewilderment of what was going on with him though.

  I knew for a fact I hadn’t been informed about any VIP named Mr. Ivanhoe needing a contributor’s tour tonight during the gala. But it was clearly what he was expecting, standing boldly, looking like a man who was very sure of what he wanted. I couldn’t just say no and blow him off. It would be incredibly rude and possibly get me into trouble with the university. And that was the thing with VIPs. They tended to be less predictable and often showed up, expecting special treatment. Their deep pockets were what kept the charities going though, and offending a generous donor was a big no-no.

  He tilted his head and narrowed his eyes a little, his brow wrinkling for an instant. “Call me that if you wish, I don’t mind, and yes, I want whatever you have arranged for me.” He brushed back his hair with a hand and held it there gripping at the back of his neck, his elbow coming up and framing me in even more. “I’m ready to begin if you are.” He smiled.

  Whatever I have arranged? I had nothing planned. I had no idea why any of this conversation between us was even happening. I knew nothing. Well, I knew one thing—I couldn’t take my eyes off his hair.

  Mr. Ivanhoe’s hair was dark and straight, worn deliciously long in the European style, hitting just above where his broad shoulders met his neck. I wanted to touch.

  He’d been blessed in more ways than just his wallet. An alien perhaps?

  “All right,” I said carefully, swallowing hard again, and wondering just how the next thirty minutes were going to go with the each of us staring and speaking in some kind of mysterious code. “Where would you like to start, Mr. Ivanhoe? What are your main interests?”

  He offered his arm, which I accepted and let him lead us into the hallway.

  “Beauty interests me right now.” He looked down at me and smiled darkly, his lips slightly parted and my arm tucked firmly under his.

  It interests me, too. “Well, there is plenty of beauty here to show you,” I said.

  ““I thought so.” He stopped us at a door. “I can’t wait to see it all and experience it for myself.”

  He opened the door and led me inside a darkened anteroom. Various works in progress of restoration and archival rooms were down this way. I was about to ask him if he wanted a tour of the conservationist wing when he shut the door and pressed me back against it. “Bloody perfect,” he mumbled.

  “What—?” was all I managed to get out before he took my face in his hands, slammed his mouth down over mine, and started kissing me with his beautiful mouth.

  MY “date” was interesting tonight. Sexy as all get-out but mysteriously illusive with what sounded to be an American accent. And so damn beautiful my eyes were stinging.

  We really needed to get this party started, and we couldn’t very well just stand here in a quiet gallery hallway mentally undressing each other now, could we? It would be wholly inappropriate, and someone was bound to come by and see eventually.

  I don’t usually go in for public shags but was far too gone in attraction to my “tour guide” to care very much. I’m a man of action. Give me a problem and I will do my damndest to find a solution.

  Like right now for instance: Where can I find a place to get Maria alone and see what she’s got hidden beneath her sexy gown?

  Was Maria really her name? I tried to remember the text I’d received, and thought I was right, but details like that slip my mind consistently. I was however, well aware how escorts didn’t like for clients to use their working names where somebody might hear.

  I always followed the rules with the ladies, still shocked this beautiful creature was an escort in the first place and not a model for Vogue or Harpers. She could be, in a heartbeat.

  A door appeared in front of me, so I opened it and brought her in with me. Dark, empty, private. “Bloody perfect,” I said.

  I pressed her up against the door and took her face in my hands. Her eyes were a stunning dark green, almost the same colour as mine were, but I just had to get to know that luscious mouth of hers first.

  I could look into her eyes once we were shagging in a few, and I planned on it.

  I wanted a taste of those lips mostly, and then I’d move on to other parts. I knew what I was doing and I was totally confident she did, too.

  “What—?” she murmured, just as I descended.

  The time for talking has well passed, lovely thing.

  When I covered her mouth with mine and got a first taste, something switched on inside me and I sort of lost my normally maintained control.

  I just wanted to push my way in and get lost in her for a while.

  She froze at first and sucked in a breath, but then she seemed to soften and go with the program, and started to kiss me back. She tasted like a delicious wine I couldn’t seem to get enough of, so I just delved deeper and held her firmly.

  It took a moment, but I felt her response grow to the point where her hands got into the action and buried in my hair. Once that started happening I knew everything was good. We had chemistry together and I was sure of one thing—I’d be getting Maria’s number so we could do this again.

  I moved a hand down to sweep under her skirt and slid my palm up her thigh and right between her legs. I felt lace.

  And a bundle of hot, sexy female.

  “Ahhh…” she moaned, standing up on her toes and throwing her head back when I touched her. I moved my mouth to her throat and down the deep neckline of her dress. My fingers dove under the lace of her knickers and found my target, skimming back and forth where it counted.

  That she was totally turned on and primed for action, was never in question. I had the proof over my fingers.

  This goddess in my arms, wearing a green dress I wished I could strip her out of, was about to come on me. Fucking hot.

  I gripped her face with my free hand and brought her back to face me. “Open your eyes.”

  She complied instantly, her lashes flipping up and revealing those green beauties I’d admired earlier. Her breathing was coming in heavy pants now. Time to hit a bullseye with Miss Maria, I decided.

  I moved two fingers into position and buried them inside her. In the same moment I seized her mouth and impaled myself there, too. She was totally mine to conquer and I relished the control in moments like this. I was all about control when it came to sex.

  Especially now.

  I matched the stroking of my fingers with the pace of my tongue, and in no time, I had her riding the wave of an orgasm as she rode my hand.

  I swallowed her tensing cries with my mouth, and slowed everything down for her until she was completely melted against the door, fighting for breaths.

  Mission accomplished.

  “God, you’re beautiful.” She widened her eyes and focused on me, a look of utter satisfaction simmering in them as she breathed against the door. What I wouldn’t give to have her in my bed right now. The possibilities flashed in images through my head as I moved my fingers slowly out, retreating carefully from her body. She gasped softly and rolled with my movements, coming down from the rush to stand on her own again. Her head was slightly tilted and resting on the back of the door. My hand still on her face, I lowered it down to her shoulder, caressing as I went.

  “My turn,” I told her.

  Her eyes flared at me in the dim light for an instant, as if she were considering my request, but the afterglow of pleasure boiling in her eyes told me she was very into what we were doing. We were just getting started on where I planned for this to go.

  She sighed in contentment and dropped down to her knees gracefully before me, her fine hands reaching forward to work on opening my trousers. She pulled out my shirt and found my cock, which was more than ready to meet her pretty mouth. I couldn’t hold back the groan that came out of me and closed my eyes in anticipation.

  It had been a while and I was definitely going to enjoy this.

  When she touched me I thrust into her hand. She gripped the shaft and str
oked, pulling me closer. I felt the softness of her tongue slide over the tip of me and welcomed the hot burn of pleasure.

  My fantasy lover was just getting into the groove, and doing a superb job I might add, when our timing went to complete shit.

  The emergency light above the door began to twirl a flashing red, and was paired with an ear-deafening decibels siren wail. Over all of that, the loudspeaker announcement demanded the building be exited immediately for safety precautions.

  Well, damn, this certainly sucked.

  Or not.

  Maria was off me and out the door before I could get myself tucked back into my trousers.

  By the time I managed to stumble out of our little love nest, she was nowhere to be seen, but Ethan was sprinting down the hallway.

  I ran for it, coming up behind him. He turned back and saw me.

  “Bomb threat. That’s what this is.” He gestured to the flashing lights. “Everyone’s being evacuated.”

  I exploded in anger, unbelieving that someone would hate me so much they would blow up a museum to get to me. Disgruntled fan or not, an act of terrorism was way out of bounds. “Are you fucking kidding me? All this because of me?”

  “I don’t know details. I was out having a smoke when the alarm went off. Neil said in-house security received a bomb threat and they’re closing everything down. We’ll sort it later. Just get the fuck out!”

  So that’s what I did.

  I looked for Maria but I never found her in the crush of people swarming the front steps of the National Gallery. I thought I saw her at one point because there was a woman wearing a similar colour green dress, but she was blonde and definitely not the fiery goddess I’d been with in that room earlier.

  Pity. I would have asked her home with me and paid double for her services without a second thought. Maria was definitely worth it.

  A bottle of Bombay and a session with her would’ve topped off my evening just perfectly. I texted Ethan to let him know I was leaving and to ring me when he had a chance. As I drove home to my solitary existence, I wasn’t content and certainly wasn’t satisfied.

  I felt like shit and there were plenty of other reasons for that, unfortunately. The only nice thing to happen tonight had been the encounter with a beautiful creature whose sexy scent was still clinging to my hand.

  I brought the back of the fingers I’d used on her up to just under my nose where I could breathe in the unmistakable lingering of female. Lovely…and fucking sexy.

  The smell of pussy and my unsatisfied cock was not a good combination though, and it put me into an even darker mood. Damn. Wanking off was not something I envisioned as part of my scheduled evening, but I’d end up doing it tonight. Something had to take my edge off and a certain someone’s essence would be a damn fine stimulus to helping matters along.

  I was determined to find Maria again, and had no doubts I would, too. We had unfinished business to conduct, and the service owed me a date. I would make sure they knew to send her as soon as it could be arranged.

  I wouldn’t be able to forget her until I sampled all she had to offer. Until I have her right where I want and at my mercy, taking my cock.

  I grinned as I turned onto my street in St. James and drove through the gates.

  I know myself pretty well. When I want something, I won’t stop until I’ve conquered the challenge. Right now my challenge was a green-eyed beauty that had, for whatever reason, bewitched me this evening.

  Remarkable…

  TWO

  THE floor plan of the National Gallery was something I knew like the back of my hand. A small blessing for which I felt supremely grateful, running as fast as my heels would carry me. I didn’t allow my mind to dwell on what I’d just done with a complete stranger. I fled. Get away first, figure out my horrifying lapse in judgment later.

  Pray he doesn’t see you. Pray, Gabrielle. Pray very hard.

  Security directed everyone out of the National Gallery with the command, “Evacuate the building without delay!” on constant repeat over the loudspeaker. I overheard the words “bomb threat” more than once¸ too. But none of that deterred me from my goal. I had to get out of here.

  I didn’t even look through the crowds of people milling about on the steps to see if I could spot Brynne and Ethan. I knew Ethan would get my roommate out safely, and whatever was going on with the security of the paintings and the gallery itself was far beyond my control.

  Just get away for now…

  I saw Neil McManus, Ethan’s executive partner at Blackstone Security, and waved to let him know I was on my way out of the building so he could relay it to anyone who might wonder about me. I was getting the hell out of here and waiting around for a roll call wasn’t happening. I might see him again. Mr. Ivanhoe. I’d die if I had to face that man again right now. Just collapse and die right here on the steps of the National Gallery.

  So I did something I’ve done before in similar situations.

  I ran for safety.

  Fleeing down the steps, I made for the street, hailing the first taxi I could. When a London black cab pulled up to the pavement, I pushed out a big breath of air in sheer relief, realizing I’d been holding it. I slid into the back seat and gave the driver my address, feeling suddenly exhausted. I kept my head down and wished I could disappear as he pulled quickly out into traffic.

  “What’s all that then?” he asked.

  “The fire alarm just went off and they told everyone to get out. I don’t know, but I heard the words ‘bomb threat’ as I passed by a security guard talking into his earpiece.”

  My driver snorted in disgust, and mumbled something about the country going to “bloody hell,” and went back to navigating the streets.

  I allowed myself to silently fall apart in the back of his cab, still in shock at what I’d done with a man I didn’t even know. What was wrong with me? How could I have permitted him to—touch me like that? To kiss me like that?

  If the situation I found myself in wasn’t so horrifying I’d be far more concerned about the reason for the evacuation and the safety of the art in the first place. The sad truth was I didn’t give the alarm much thought at all beyond the fact it had interrupted something I shouldn’t have ever been doing. My head was so screwed up right now with thoughts of what’d just happened in a side room with Mr. Ivanhoe I couldn’t spare any more of my emotions on worry about the paintings, or otherwise. An orgasm happened, you freak.

  What in the bloody hell was he about anyway? Who does that? Goes up to a random woman and seduces her in a closet?

  The better question was what woman allows such a thing to happen with zero protest? That would be me. Slut. You’re such a slutty whore, and you have zero self-control, that’s why!

  I tried to sort out the sequence of events but none of it made any sense. He’d walked up behind me and said, “I found you,” as if he knew I’d be there waiting for him. Mr. Ivanhoe hadn’t seemed confused at all, but acted as if our meeting had been planned in advance. He’d even mentioned my green dress. I wondered if Paul Langley had arranged for the VIP tour and forgotten to tell me. But that didn’t make any sense either because Mr. Ivanhoe was not about getting a tour of the museum. He’d been all about getting a blow job from me. And you had his cock in your mouth, and were giving him one when the alarm went off!

  I slashed at the tears leaking from my eyes and stared out at the busy city traffic, wishing for the millionth time my life was different. That I was somehow different. But we are creatures of habit, and are who we’re born to be. This was me—the real Gabrielle Hargreave. And as disgraceful and abhorrent it felt to accept the idea, it didn’t make the situation any less true.

  You reap what you sow, Gabrielle.

  Yeah, I’d learned my lesson the hard way.

  BEN called to check on me as soon as he saw the news on TV about the National Gallery being evacuated. I wasn’t surprised about the call, or the fact he knew something was up with me the minute he heard my voice. Whe
n he asked me if I was okay, I lied to my dear and caring friend. I lied and told him I was just upset about the possibility of a trove of priceless art being destroyed in a bomb blast, and further justified my “mood” about how fucked up the world was today with lunatics terrorizing in so many parts of the globe.

  I was pretty sure he bought my story because he let it drop, but I couldn’t be certain. Benny was very perceptive, and he knows me well. He forced an agreement out of me to have dinner with him the following week. Ben was, quite simply, digging for information and figured if he couldn’t get anything out of me over the phone, he’d have more success in person. I loved him for it, though. Benny Clarkson was a rare gem of a person. We’d met at university photography class, gotten to know each other when we’d partnered together. As soon as I’d figured he wasn’t trying to put the moves on me, my walls went down and I made a dear, dear friend. I don’t know if he was more in tune with women because he was a gay man, or if it was just a connection we’d formed, but he sure understood me. Ben was very close to Brynne, too. He was like our older, protective brother who loved us unconditionally, always keeping an eye out.

  As soon as we hung up, I shot a text to Brynne to let her know I was home. She hit me right back saying they were on the road to Somerset. Ethan was taking them to the countryside for a weekend away at his sister’s historic mansion, which she runs as an exclusive bed and breakfast. The bomb threat had convinced him to leave tonight instead of tomorrow.

  Made sense. Ethan Blackstone was as serious about protecting Brynne as he was in love with her. Pity the fool who ever tried to get close enough to hurt her.

  My dad was next to check in, which was as predictable as Ben’s call. The men in my life loved me, making their behavior easy to forecast. Can’t say I minded that though.

  “You’re home already then?”

  “Oh yeah, they kicked us out and I saw no point in sticking around. I caught a cab and decided to call it an early night,” I said smoothly.