When they returned to the bar, Scout had declared Patrice an excellent friend. She was in such good spirits she ordered drinks for the two men sitting next to them. The men were very appreciative. The one named Stephen stood beside them and told them about the convention he was attending while in town. Feeling loose and cheery, Scout leaned back in her chair and smiled. He didn’t have such nice teeth, but he was still a very nice gentleman.
A while later she thought she saw Dugan in the crowd, but at that point everything had begun to swirl and blur. Patrice and she sat facing each other. Patrice laughed and placed her hand on Scout’s thigh, little red nails rubbing gently. Stephen stood to her side, arm draped over the back of her chair. She was warm. It was a wonderful feeling, toasty and cozy in her skin.
The soft music that had been playing was turned up and people began to dance. She watched them longingly. Dancing looked fun.
Stephen followed her gaze and shouted over the crowd, “Wanna dance?”
Knowing she’d make a fool of herself if she tried, Scout said, “I—”
“She can’t.”
With a start, she turned and found Lucian and Dugan standing beside them. Patrice looked terrified.
“Hey! Dugan! What is up, my brotha?” The words just came spewing out of her mouth and then she burst out laughing.
Patrice giggled behind her hand, little red nails curling delicately. Lucian frowned and Dugan’s lips twitched, but his expression remained in its perpetual grimace.
“I thought you didn’t drink?” Lucian leaned in and shouted over the noise.
Scout held up her glass in a solute. “I didn’t, but I’m doing lots of things I never did before.”
Stephen smiled boldly and gestured toward Lucian. “Who’s this, Scout?”
Patrice shook her head nervously and Dugan’s deep voice carried over the drunken roar of patrons without having to shout. “This is Mr. Patras, the owner of the hotel. Ms. Keats is his guest.”
Stephen paled and slunk back into the crowd. Patrice laughed. “That wasn’t very nice, Mr. Dugan.”
The chauffer frowned at her. She ignored him and held out a hand to Lucian. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Patras. Patrice Devon. I work at your salon. Had the pleasure of waxing Evelyn the other day.”
Scout snorted and felt herself blush. “She did!” She laughed, finding the comment hilarious. “She beat the shit out of my hoo-hoo!”
Pink spread around Dugan’s bushy mustache and that only made her laugh harder.
Patrice pouted, “Hey, I did a good job. You know it’s nicer now. I bet Mr. Patras likes it, don’t you, sir?”
Lucian’s lips twitched. Scout realized she should have probably stopped drinking some time ago.
When no one said anything, Patrice leaned forward and stage whispered, “It’s a very nice vagina.”
Scout knew Lucian was pissed, but she lost it. Pressing her lips together, fighting a losing battle as laughter bubbled out of her nose and she put her head down on her arms. She leaned into the bar hiccupping with hysterics. Her finger shot up behind her head, telling anyone who was interested, that she needed a moment to compose herself.
Patrice fell into peals of laughter right beside her. Scout turned and hugged her. Their arms slid over each other as they continued to cackle. Lucian tapped on the bar and signed something.
He turned and said, “Thank you for keeping Evelyn company, Ms. Devon, but I’m afraid it’s time to call it a night. If you would allow, Dugan here will be more than happy to give you a ride home.”
Lips pouting dramatically, Scout promised Patrice that they’d do it all again soon. Lucian escorted her to the elevators and her feet stumbled quite a bit. She was intensely aware that for as drunk as she was, he was sober. Her lips firmed to school her expression, but everything was making her giggle.
When they stepped into the elevator, she tripped and Lucian caught her arm.
“I know you think it’s the alcohol,” she heard herself slur, “but I swear it’s these shoes. I can’t walk in them.” Her weight deposited itself awkwardly on one foot and she laughed.
“I’m sure it has nothing to do with the alcohol,” Lucian mumbled dryly.
The door opened and she was suddenly lifted off of her feet as her world turned upside down. She squealed with laughter. Lucian’s sweet ass was right in front of her face and her braid hung nearly to the floor. He walked them to the private elevators and she decided she should just hang in there. She laughed.
The door to the penthouse opened, and Lucian carried her to the bedroom and flipped her onto the bed. The world spun. She moaned as it righted itself.
“Shhh, stay still,” she mumbled to the wavy room.
He plucked off her shoes and they hit the floor with a plunk. Her shirt twisted beneath her breasts and the cool air chilled the skin at her belly.
Scout arched and cooed, “Are you planning on undressing me, Mr. Patras?”
Lucian gave her a sardonic glance and unbuttoned her jeans and slid them over her hips. She lifted and helped him pull them away. Glancing down, she admired the midnight blue lace boy shorts. They looked sexy against her flesh. Tossing her arms over her head, she fell into the pillows so Lucian could have a better view.
“Shirt next,” she purred with a giggle. How did Patrice do that?
The shirt was pulled over her head without finesse. Her torso lifted and she plopped back onto the soft mattress. More giggles.
Lucian went to the dresser and pulled out a nightgown. She saved him a step and undid her bra. Sliding it off she held it over the edge of the bed and said, “Don’t forget this . . .”
He stilled midstride. “Evelyn . . .”
“Lucian,” she said, lowering her chin and mimicking his disapproving tone.
He pursed his lips. “You’re drunk.”
She gasped and covered her mouth. “And naked!”
Rolling to her side, she crawled up onto her knees. When she lost her balance he quickly stepped forward and caught her by her upper arms. “Evelyn, you can barely hold yourself up.”
“Then you better not let go,” she whispered softly and pressed her lips to his.
To his credit, he didn’t kiss her back . . . at first. She pressed her tongue into his mouth and his arms surrounded her, pulling her tight to his front. This was what she had been trying to accomplish for days. Once she had him she wasn’t letting go.
Her fingers drove through his dark hair and she knotted her fists at the back of his head. He groaned and tightened his grip around her. The kiss deepened and he climbed onto the bed, kneeling with her. His hands slid down to her lace –bottom and squeezed. She moaned into his mouth.
Releasing her hold on his hair and shoulders, her hands slid down his chest. She yanked his suit jacket back over his shoulders and he quickly stripped it off. Her fingers went to his tie and yanked the knot loose. Once that was tossed away she hastily undid buttons. Her motor skills struggled.
Lucian’s hand slid under the midnight blue lace of her panties and grabbed a handful of flesh.
One button was being a real prick.
“Rip it,” he growled. Not needing to be told twice, her hands yanked at the silk shirt and buttons went pinging across the room.
He pushed her over and climbed on top of her. His shirt went flying and the moment his arms were free they pinned hers above her head. She arched over the soft, sensual sheets and his hot mouth latched onto her breast. Her raspy voice cried out as he sucked her nipple between his teeth.
Her panties were yanked over her hips. When she didn’t lift to help him, the sound of lace tearing filled the air.
“I’m going to eat that pretty pussy of yours,” he growled as his mouth kissed lower along her tummy and her thighs were roughly wedged apart.
The first lick of his flat tongue over her slit ha
d her springing off the bed, “Lucian!”
“Don’t move.”
She struggled to stay still. His warm mouth kissed and tickled her creases. Cool air hit her folds as his thick fingers spread her open. She waited for him to do something, but nothing came.
“Lucian?”
“She’s right,” he whispered reverently. “You have a beautiful pussy, Evelyn.”
Warmth spread from her cheeks to her breasts, and then he kissed an extremely sensitive spot and her fists knotted in the satin bedding as she cried out. It was a sensual assault. Wet strokes lashed at her folds as his fingers kept her spread wide. Her thighs opened as his shoulders drove harder between her knees. She slid up the bed and he gripped her hip, holding her in place as he continued to bring her the most intense pleasure she had ever imagined.
Pressure built and the width of his finger stretched her. He seemed to be reaching for something. He didn’t thrust inside of her. Rather, he pressed deep and applied pressure as his mouth latched onto that most sensitive spot and he sucked relentlessly.
Scout screamed as rapid pulses took over her body and had her bearing down. He suckled hard and pressed into her belly with his palm as moisture flooded over her folds. The climax peaked and waned.
“Again,” he growled and began driving his fingers into her. She couldn’t take it. She began to struggle, needing to break away from the onslaught of pleasure.
“Be still,” he commanded, holding her down.
Forcing herself to obey, another intense climax took hold of her. She was panting, mouth open like an animal in heat. Her body rocked and sweat glossed her skin. Her toes pointed as her knees drew up.
When he still didn’t stop, she begged. “Lucian, please, I can’t take any more.”
“You can and you will.”
His fingers swirled her arousal, gathering it and creating a slick path that ran down below her crease. His fingers pressed where his mouth had sucked her to climax and relentlessly rubbed over the extremely sensitized bundle of nerves.
His body rose above hers as both hands worked between her legs. “Look at me,” he commanded and her eyes opened. Her lashes fluttered as she fought to watch him. “Feel me, Evelyn. Feel the pleasure I bring you.”
Fingers pumped into her channel as his hand rapidly brushed over her flesh. He removed his fingers and brought them to his mouth. She watched as he licked at the evidence of her arousal and moaned. His eyes bored into her as he sucked one finger deep.
Her mind seemed to have sobered, the alcohol perhaps burned off by her orgasm. Although she was still a bit sluggish, she seemed trapped more in a sexual haze than a tipsy one.
He stared down at her, his dark, hooded eyes softening and a peculiar expression taking over his face.
“What?” she whispered.
His head shook slowly, fingers tracing whirls over her flat belly. “What am I going to do with you, sweet Evelyn? You have me in knots. Half the time I want to shake you and half the time I want . . .”
When he didn’t finish, she asked, “Want to what?”
He continued to shake his head. The urgent way he handled her when they first arrived had transcended into something new and unfamiliar. Intimate. Oddly, she didn’t shy from the quiet intimacy. The alcohol must have weakened her boundaries. They seemed cocooned in a whispered secret outsiders would never understand.
Her fingers touched his wrist and he stilled. Dragging the backs of her nails slowly over his arm, he watched her curiously. “You make me break my rules, Lucian,” she quietly confessed.
His hand caught hers, lacing their fingers together. He gazed down at her in a way no man ever had. It was as if he actually saw her. She felt exposed, but for some reason it wasn’t as frightening. He eased her fears of closeness and she had no idea how he managed it.
“You make me break my rules too, Evelyn. You tempt me more than any woman should.”
Her body sank into the plush mattress as he leaned over her and kissed her softly. Lips pulled at hers as his tongue slowly seduced her mouth into a gentle serenade. As she reached for his shoulders, he carefully extricated himself from her hold and pressed her hands over her head into the feather pillows.
“Let me,” was all he said as his mouth slid to her jaw and worked in tiny kisses to her pulse.
The moment was slow and sultry, languid molasses minutes dripping through time. Every caress had her twisting and moaning softly. When his mouth reached her breasts, his touch was nothing like it had been. His lips closed over her flesh tenderly, reverently, and all those tiny frayed edges of her being knit back together, tightening, blanketing her in a sense of security she only felt when with him.
Long fingers curved around her hips as he kissed her tummy. Dipping his head, his nose traced along her ribs, and soft hair tickled the underside of her breasts. She was trembling. He managed to unhinge some fundamental part of her control and introduce her to the exquisite liberation that came with surrender.
As his mouth journeyed from her breasts to her hips, down to her knees, and teased at her sex, she embraced the indescribable sensation of just letting go. He took her away from it all, the noise, the worry, the struggle. He presented an escape she never realized could exist in this manner of intimacy. This was definitely more than a business agreement.
He brought her to climax more times than she could count. The tides had changed and there was something to be said for the gentle way he handled her. He was still intense and dominant, but reverent as well. Every touch solidified their bond, a bond she’d normally fear, but her mind was too lost to the pleasure to protest.
They fell asleep holding each other, waking here and there within the dark hours of the night when Lucian soothed her back to sleep with more tender caresses.
Chapter 25
Pride
Darkness and heat surrounded her. Scout’s head ached and she needed to pee. Lucian’s arm weighed heavily over her waist. She lifted it and slid out of bed. Her body was incredibly weak. She was starving.
Stupefied, she sat in the bathroom longer than necessary. Her muzzy head felt filled with cotton and her eyes were gritty. She was gross.
Her hands quietly shut the bathroom door and adjusted the dimmer. She winced when she accidentally made the lights too bright. Grabbing her toothbrush, she began brushing her teeth and stepped into the shower. The water washed over her and slowly memories of the night before returned.
Wow, she had been really drunk. Lots of memories of laughing, but she couldn’t recall what had been so funny. Patrice was funny, but she wasn’t sure why. Scout had the sense that Dugan was unhappy with her.
Lucian. Lucian had been . . . disappointed? No, that wasn’t it. He wasn’t mad. He hadn’t yelled at her. Yet he didn’t seem too pleased either. Visions of his fingers undressing her swam at the hazy edges of her mind. Somehow she had seduced him to join her, but how?
Images of Lucian touching her flashed through her head, his mouth on her breasts, her neck, between her thighs. The more she thought about the night before the more she remembered. He had made her scream in pleasure.
She stilled, pulling her toothbrush from her mouth and she frowned. She’d enjoyed drinking, but the aftermath was annoying. She was sore and confused about events from the evening. Scout rinsed her toothbrush and finished showering quickly.
Did we have sex?
She hated how muzzy her memories were. Wrapping Lucian’s robe around her, she then combed the knots from her hair. The bedroom clock proclaimed it was just after five in the morning. She didn’t want to wake Lucian, so she went to the common area of the suite.
Scout picked up the phone and dialed nine. When someone at the front desk answered, she quietly whispered, “Hi, this is Evelyn Keats. I’m staying with Mr. Patras. Could you please have someone send up some pastries and a pot of coffee. Mr. Patras is still sleeping, so plea
se have them just leave it outside the door.”
Curling into the overstuffed chair she stared out the window. With it still being dark she could see her reflection quite clear. Sometimes her reflection was like a stranger to her. There was certainly no recognition of the woman staring back at Scout now.
The soft clatter of the tray being placed outside the door and the sound of the elevator descending caused her to rise. She carried the heavy tray over to the table and poured herself some coffee.
As she watched the sun slowly rise behind the buildings dominating the view, she sipped from her mug and nibbled a cheese Danish, contemplating the night before. Lucian and she had definitely not had sex.
This was a problem.
It was Saturday. Had she really only met him one week ago? As morning arrived the sound of movement began creeping through the building. Elevators dinged and vehicles played a quiet beat over the streets below. Growing tired again, Scout decided to just shut her eyes for a moment. Next thing she knew, Lucian was showered and dressed and pouring himself a cup of coffee in front of her.
“You’re up,” she rasped.
He nodded. “How do you feel? Hungover, I imagine.”
The heel of her palm rubbed the side of her head.
“I was. I woke up at five and showered. I feel a little better now. Sorry about breakfast. I didn’t want to order anything that would be cold by the time you woke up.”
“It’s fine.”
“Are you going out?” It was Saturday. The sight of him in a suit made her fear he was leaving.
“I don’t know.”
“Lucian, can we talk about what’s happening here? Honestly?”
He didn’t answer.
“We didn’t have sex last night.”
“I’m aware.”
She huffed. “Can you stop with the arrogant one-liners and talk to me? Why won’t you fuck me?”
Her words had shocked him. Good. He sipped his coffee and put it down with a sharp click on the table.
“You are not meant to be fucked, Evelyn.”
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