The Lost Tycoon

by Melody Anne

  Misty was transfixed by the spectacles before her.

  “Champagne?”

  “Yes, please,” said Sierra. She took two glasses and handed one over to Misty, who accepted it without looking. Her eyes were too busy. The ceiling was lined with glittering balls, light shooting from the crystals circling them, and the waitstaff were wearing brightly colored tuxes. The women wore the same jacket and top as the men, but sported skirts instead of trousers, and they all wore glittering half masks in different colors.

  There was already a crowd, all dressed to the nines and exuberant.

  I can do this, Misty told herself. Yes, her teal dress was strapless, and it dipped dangerously, its front held on only by ingeniously placed tape and who knew what else, and it had a slit clear up to the top of her thigh. Still, what she wore was almost modest compared with some of the other gowns in the room.

  Since the costumes of the female acrobats were diminutive in the extreme, the men’s eyes would surely be glued to them. She had nothing to worry about, she told herself.

  After her second glass of champagne, Misty’s worries diminished further.

  “Ooh, I finally spotted Damien and Bryson,” Sierra bubbled, and she took hold of Misty’s arm and led her across the room.

  “Sorry we’re late, darling. We were talking with Lucas and couldn’t slip away,” Damien said as he leaned down and kissed his wife’s lips. “You look good enough to ravish.”

  Though he whispered it, Misty heard, and her cheeks instantly flamed.

  “Let’s dance,” said Bryson, gazing at Misty with pure heat.

  She accepted his hand and followed him to the dance floor, where he pulled her against him.

  “You are always beautiful, but right now…” he began and then cleared his throat. “Right now, it’s taking all my restraint not to haul you upstairs and peel that dress away to see what it’s barely hiding.”

  “We might get in trouble, Bryson, but I’m willing to risk it.” She’d seen as much as she needed to of the circus acts. And there were so many people in the room, no one would miss them if they snuck away.

  Bryson tensed as if thinking of an escape route. His eyes fixed on the door and he stopped dancing.

  “I wouldn’t try it. My dad will come looking for you,” Lucas said as he stopped dancing next to them. “Hi, Magnolia. I’m glad to finally meet you. I’m Lucas, and this is my beautiful wife, Amy. I won’t stand here and bother you all night, but we’ve tried to sneak out early during a number of dad’s events, and he has a radar for potential escapees.” He accompanied his warning with a laugh before he swirled his wife away, leaving Misty speechless.

  “I think Damien told them not to hold you captive with conversation,” Bryson said in explanation of Lucas and Amy’s hasty retreat. “Your brother is worried you’ll get overwhelmed by the throng of family members and you’ll run off.”

  “I have to admit that that’s how I’ve been feeling. There are just so many of them, and I don’t know what to say, and I hate saying the same thing over and over again. It might be easier to just stand in a room with all of them and answer questions from a podium like the president does,” she said with a champagne giggle.

  “I could arrange that,” he joked as they began dancing again.

  “I’d kill you if you dared.”

  “You’ve already tried with your stun gun, and that ended up with you lying beneath me, so go ahead and try. I like the outcomes of our matches.”

  “I will best you, Bryson Winchester. Just you wait.” She laughed as he spun her in a circle.

  “I could dance with you all night, beautiful, but I’m parched. Let’s get a drink, then come back for more.”

  After a couple of glasses of something blue — she had no clue what it was, but she loved the decorations on the large stick — boy, was she ready for the dance floor.

  The hours whooshed by with dancing, meeting new people, and laughter. So much laughter. Who said clouds wandered lonely? As the Cirque acts continued, she was walking on them. Each member of the Anderson family she met was as kind as the last, all of them were easy-going and humorous, and they all seemed to be glad she was there.

  She’d never be able to remember all the names. What she would remember was this fantasy world she’d been invited into. Joseph played a wonderful ringmaster, commanding his audience, and raising millions for his foundation.

  The guests left with much lighter pockets, and they told Joseph it was by far the best such event they’d ever attended. At the end of the evening, hand in hand with Bryson, Misty found herself in front of Joseph and Katherine. Joseph’s wife looked radiant in her golden gown.

  “Thank you for inviting me to join you this weekend,” Bryson said as he took Katherine’s hand and kissed it, making her cheeks glow.

  “It was a pleasure to have you, Bryson, and of course, to spend time with you,” she said as she kissed Misty’s cheek.

  “I hope to have you back real soon,” Joseph said with a wink and a lift of his eyebrows as he looked to Misty.

  “You are quite subtle, aren’t you, Joseph?” Bryson said with a laugh.

  “I’m too old for subtlety.” He slapped Bryson on the back hard enough to jolt him a step forward.

  Joseph kissed Misty’s cheek, and she practically floated away to the sleeping quarters of the mansion, Bryson’s hand clutched in hers.

  “This night has been magical, Bryson. I don’t want it to end. You have been the perfect companion,” she said, leaning heavily on him as they neared the stairs.

  “We all need magic in our lives. It keeps us young,” he replied.

  “I feel safe with you. Nothing bothers me, not the crowds, the noise, the cameras, the fear of Jesse finding me. It all goes away when we’re together,” she said, stopping to look at him.

  “I hope you always feel that way. Sometimes,” he paused and took a breath. “Sometimes, things aren’t always black and white. Not everything can be placed in a box and neatly tied together with a pretty bow. Just know that, no matter what, I have your best interests in mind,” he said. He hated to have secrets between them, and he was working up the courage to tell her about the DNA testing.

  “I can’t imagine feeling anything different. You are a hero in my eyes, and I have never trusted someone as much as I trust you,” she said as they resumed walking and neared her door.

  “I just hope that I’m worthy of your trust,” Bryson said, stopping and pulling her into his arms.

  “Let’s only worry about tonight for now.” Misty looked meaningfully toward her door.

  “I should kiss you goodnight. You’ve had too much to drink, and a gentleman would let you sleep it off,” he said, his voice low and full of need.

  “I’m not looking for a gentleman,” she said, rising on her tiptoes and kissing the corner of his mouth. “I’m looking for a lover.”

  She was too tipsy to be shocked at her own behavior. And when he pulled her against him with a low growl issuing from his throat, and lifted her easily into his arms, she was glad to have pushed him to take her.

  When the door swung open, she sighed in anticipation.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  He was nearly losing control. And he was still on his feet, walking. Yes, Misty was high in his arms. Her breathing was deep, and her dress was so low, he could almost — damn! not quite! — see her perfect nipples. How he wanted to taste them again, watch as they turned hard and wet.

  But he wanted a lot more. He wanted to make her feel special. Because she was. She wasn’t just another woman he would be enjoying beneath him. She was flinging open doors to emotions for him, doors that he hadn’t known could be unlocked.

  He was thinking of forever with this woman, and to lose that was unthinkable. He should hold off making love to her again and proclaim how he felt about her, but as he set her on her feet and she took a step back and reached behind her, he could do nothing but hold his breath.

  This new, bold Misty was driving hi
m almost to distraction. Tonight, she’d been transformed from the shy caterpillar to a beautiful butterfly. Not in looks — she’d always been beautiful, from the moment he’d first laid eyes on her with a Taser in her hand, no less. No, the transformation was in her confidence, in her self-esteem.

  Bringing her back to Washington, making it possible for her to meet her family, to see the possibilities of where her life could go — that’s what had made her blossom. She was no longer alone in the world. She’d no longer have to be afraid.

  Bryson knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that with or without the Andersons, Misty was meant to shine. She had found her own way so far in life, and even with all the obstacles in her way, as he’d told her before by way of high praise, she’d managed to rise above the streets, with their attendant drugs, prostitution, and violence.

  With the added benefit of her family — and not to brag, but him — there was nothing she wouldn’t be able to achieve. He was grateful that he would be there to watch her break away from the shell she’d been in for so long.

  But those thoughts inevitably gave way to other, more pressing matters, like the unzipping of the back of her dress. When her hands came back around, and she opened the sides…the dress still stayed in place. Bryson held his breath in anticipation.

  “Tape,” she said with a giggle, and she looked down at the fabric in front, which was hanging on just to torment him.

  Unable to be out of her arms for a second more, he approached, commanding himself to take this slowly, to savor every taste, every gasp, every ripple of pleasure, and to make her fly so high that she wouldn’t ever land again. Except, perhaps, on his bed, again and again and again.

  “I will have to thank the designer of this dress personally,” he murmured, then leaned down and kissed her…softly…slowly…with a tenderness that had her sighing in his mouth. He was determinedly taking from her all she was willing to give.

  “Bryson,” she moaned, before capturing his bottom lip with her teeth and sucking on it, sending jolts of electricity straight to his groin.

  He could take her now and die a happy man.

  When she ran her hands across his shoulders, slipped inside his jacket and tugged, he released his grip on her and let her send the garment to the floor. Better and better.

  He felt her fingers flutter against his neck and loosen his tie before it floated to the ground. Then, one by one, she was undoing the buttons on his shirt, the sensation of her hands against his skin scorchingly sweet.

  In his turn, he ran his hands along her exposed back, the silk of her skin hot to his touch — so satiny, so perfect in its imperfection. He reached the top of her buttocks, and his control almost abandoned him when he felt the minuscule piece of fabric covering that lush behind.

  “You are so flawless, Misty, so unbelievably perfect,” he groaned as she kissed his jaw, then sucked the skin of his neck before her mouth followed the course of her fingers and she kissed along the smooth planes of his chest, and the rigid muscles of his shaking abdomen.

  She pulled his shirt free, then bit the skin of his stomach, nearly making him jump right out of his pants — and he certainly wouldn’t have minded such a time-saver.

  With calculated movements, she licked the skin of his stomach as her slim fingers began undoing first his belt, then the top button of his slacks. The sound of his zipper descending was oddly loud in the room, where the only other thing to be heard was their breathing, deep and desperate.

  Reaching down, he gripped her head, holding himself steady as she slipped her hands under the waistband of his slacks and tugged. The material slipped easily from his hips and fell to the ground.

  His erection stood out under the black underwear he wore, reaching for her touch. She shifted and kissed him through the silky material, making him groan as his legs fought to keep him upright.

  No other woman had ever had this kind of control over him. And he loved it, loved feeling as if he were going to explode, loved knowing this was the last woman he would ever desire to touch…to sink inside…to pleasure.

  When she rose back up his body, his stomach shook, his muscles tensed. He told himself to go slowly, to restrain his animal impulses. He was barely able to contain himself, but when she was standing and he found himself looking into her eyes, a calm fell over him.

  Yes, his body was hard, yes, he was more than ready to complete their coupling, but, also yes, he could be happy just to hold her close the entire night — the rest of his life.

  “You make me…feel. I’m falling in love with you, Misty,” he whispered. He bent forward and kissed her, keeping his eyes open to look into her mystified gaze.

  “We don’t know each other well enough,” she said, confusion and hope fighting for supremacy within her fragile psyche.

  “I know all I need to know, Misty. I know you love with all your heart, though you’re afraid others won’t love you the same way. I know you like to make little doodles on paper when you are sitting somewhere and bored. I know you can’t keep still, that you have to move. I know you like sappy movies and sappier books, though you try to hide your obsession. Yes, I’ve looked at your shelves. I know that you are the most beautiful, caring, strong woman I’ve ever met. And I also know that I can’t go a single hour without thinking of you, and when I tried to stay away from you, I could barely function. I want to be with you — not just tonight, but forever.”

  Hope was the winning emotion in her eyes.

  “I think about you all the time, too, Bryson,” she admitted. She kissed his jaw, her body trembling in his arms. It wasn’t quite an undying confession of love, but from her, it was a lot, and he appreciated her words.

  “Then why should we fight this?”

  “I can’t think when you touch me,” she said, sighing when he kissed her neck, then trailed his tongue along her shoulder.

  “Then don’t think. Just feel.” His hands slipped inside her dress and he pulled it slowly away from her breasts, letting the fabric float to the floor, leaving her standing before him in nothing but a scrap of lacy black fabric covering her core.

  “Oh…” he said in a long rush of breath.

  She smiled at the passion in his gaze, confidence now shining in her eyes as she spun in a circle in front of him, letting him get a good view of her rounded derrière, then facing him and showing him the perfection of her breasts, her nipples peaked with desire.

  Unable to keep himself from touching her, he brought his hands to her hips, slid them over the curve of her behind, slipping his fingers under the soft material at her hip, moving higher, covering her stomach, and then caressing her breasts, his palms rubbing across her hard nipples, making her gasp, making her entire body shake.

  He walked her backward until her legs made contact with the bed, and she fell; she lay sprawled out before him, her hair gloriously mussed, her eyes shining, and her chest heaving, her body begging for his mouth to claim every inch of her skin.

  He ran his mouth along the smoothness of her legs, spending extra time on the delicate skin of her toned thighs, and then he skimmed across her womanhood, encouraged by the moans escaping her throat, loving the way her body arched to reach for his mouth.

  His hands roamed where his tongue wasn’t, and he touched and kissed every inch of her, leaving his mark on her thighs, stomach, chest, and neck, and making her mouth swollen from his kisses.

  She writhed beneath him, begging for him to complete their union, begging for release — and he gave it to her. He returned his complete attention to her heat and helped her fly over and over again, leaving them both exhausted as he continued stroking her flesh, tasting her, loving her.

  When he moved up her body, he took her breasts fully in his hands, weighed them, squeezed them, then sucked her nipples deep into his mouth, nearly giving her another orgasm.

  “Please, I want you inside me,” she begged, her head twisting back and forth on the mattress, her skin covered in a light sheen of sweat, her eyes half open, a re
markable light shining from them.

  Removing the last barrier between them, he quickly took care of protection, and then spread her legs wide as he pressed against her core. Inhaling deeply, he took a moment just to appreciate the beauty of her beneath him.

  “Now, Bryson,” she commanded, in her need for him, now sure both of herself and confident he would comply.

  “Like this?” he teased, slipping an inch inside her. This game was killing him, but having her struggle beneath him made his misery worth it.

  “No!” she shouted, her short nails digging into the skin of his hips as she tugged on his body.

  “Mmm, like this?” he asked, pushing another couple of inches inside her, before pulling back out.

  “I swear…” As she began to threaten, he thrust fully inside and buried himself deep, taking their breath away at the perfect fit.

  “You were made just for me,” he groaned. He pulled back again before quickly sheathing himself in her heat once more.

  “Yes…yes…yes,” she moaned, gripping his skin so tightly that he was sure to be black and blue.

  He didn’t care.

  Minutes or hours passed. He didn’t know. All he knew was that each time he pulled from her, he was empty, and each time he sank back into her folds, he was complete. A glorious pressure built, limbs and mouths entwined, and somewhere along the way, they became one, one breath, one heart beating, one body, reaching for paradise.

  When they peaked together, both moaning out their pleasure, she opened her eyes, and he gazed into them, knowing this was it — this was their moment. Their fates were sealed, and he would never let her go. With a guttural cry, he exploded, his body shaking from the intensity of his release, while her body clung to him tightly as it pulsed around him.

  With barely enough energy left to move, Bryson still managed to pull her into his arms and stroke the slick skin of her back as the two of them floated back down to earth, reveling in what had just occurred.