by Claire Adams
“You read my mind,” Asher responded with a smile and took a business card from his coat pocket. “All my info is on there,” he said. “You can fill out whatever forms you need when you get back downstairs. For now, just get us to the room—oh, and send a bottle of champagne up, please.”
“Certainly, monsieur. I will take you there at once. Please, please, follow me.”
We followed him up the great, curved stairway hand in hand. He led us to a room with two ornate, gilded doors which he threw open with dramatic flair, revealing a room that looked as if it could have been that of the Sun King himself.
“The presidential suite!” he announced. “While it is decorated with old world charm, you will find that it has all of the 21st century amenities you would need. There is a hot tub in the bathroom, and a media center—”
“I’m sure it will do nicely,” Asher said cutting his speech short. “We'll buzz you if we need any help. Right now, though, we need to be alone.”
“Understood, monsieur,” the concierge replied with a hint of a knowing smile.
He handed us the keys and then hurried back downstairs.
We stepped inside, closed the ornate doors behind us, and immediately resumed kissing. Once more, the passion began to flow like water through a broken dam. We began to stumble toward the bed as we kissed—but then I had a different idea. I knew that Asher craved control, and I had to see what would happen if he was denied that control.
I pulled back and pushed him away from me.
“What . . . what's wrong?” he stammered, breathing heavily.
His arousal was easily seen through his pants—he was ready to go.
“I'm going to the bathroom to freshen up,” I said. “You wait outside.”
“Wait?! No!”
“Do you want this or not?” I asked, keeping my tone calm and even.
“I . . . Oh, God, I do. Yes.”
“Then you'll do what I say,” I replied matter-of-factly. “And, I'm telling you to wait here until I'm ready.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he agreed, although I could see that was unhappy about it.
That was good. I wasn't about to let him have complete control over me. I sashayed into the bathroom, shifting my hips as seductively as I could. I could feel his hungry eyes devouring every step I took—undressing me, violating me. It made my blood pump with a beautiful heat.
I stepped into the bathroom and closed the door.
Once inside, I nearly gasped at the opulence of the bathroom. It was huge—the size of a living room, and all the fittings were gold. The soaring ceiling was, like the main room, painted with classical figures by what appeared to be an old master in a past century. A gilded mirror made the place look even more spacious.
In the center, sunk to floor level, was the hot tub. I walked over the cool marble floor, kicking off my shoes and removing my dress and underwear. I turned on the hot tub, and smiled as the bubbles started to flow. I dipped my toes into the water. It was cool, but warming up quickly.
“Asher!” I called out.
“Can I come in now?”
“No. But make sure they bring the champagne up.”
“As you wish.”
He was disappointed, but he would soon discover that his wait would have been worth it.
Once the water had heated up to a suitable temperature, I slipped into it and had a seat, relishing in the simple joy of the bubbles, jets, and hot water.
Arousal was still coursing through me, and I couldn't wait any longer, no matter how much I wanted to tease him with anticipation.
“Asher!”
“Yes?”
“Is the champagne here?”
“It is.”
“Bring it in, then.”
He opened the door and sauntered in, carrying the bottle of champagne in a steel ice bucket. He saw me, nude, lounging in the frothy water of the hot tub and stopped dead in his tracks.
“My God,” he exclaimed, half under his breath.
“Come on in,” I said.
He didn't waste time. He practically ripped what remained of his suit off his body in his rush to get undressed. I watched, utterly captivated, as each item of clothing came off. I'd seen his body before, of course, but only once and not from a point of view that I could fully enjoy it.
Watching him, it was almost as if it was being revealed to me for the first time. I allowed my eyes to rove over his carved figure, with its rippling muscles and perfectly formed . . . everything. Every single muscle on his body had been worked on, refined, polished, as if by a master sculptor. All that obsessive dedication and discipline in the gym had certainly paid off.
Eventually, he stood nude before me, his broad chest rising up and down with the deep, almost harsh breaths he was drawing in, like a wild animal that had just run down its kill. Lust was fueling his gaze. He wanted me with an almost primitive hunger, a hunger that drove fiery blood through every one of his extremities—especially one incredibly hard, pulsating extremity—with every beat of his heart.
“What are you waiting for?” I asked.
He grabbed the champagne bottle and stepped into the water, doing his best to maintain his composure. But I could see how wildly his heart was pumping, how desperately he wanted me. There was no hiding the crazed beast within, writhing madly beneath that exterior of physical perfection.
He pushed through the water toward me, but I held up a hand to stop him.
“Whoa, cowboy. How about some bubbly first?”
He chuckled, although I could see the need in his eyes, ravenous as any wolf.
“Very well,” he said with a tilt of his head.
“Don't shoot the cork at the ceiling. It's a work of art.”
He looked up and smiled.
“True.”
He aimed the bottle at one of the towels hanging on the rack and popped the cork.
“Wonderful,” I said, and I stood up, revealing my entire body to him from the thighs up. I walked through the water, and he stood up, reaching for my breasts, but I pushed his hands away and took the bottle from him.
“Who said you could touch?” I giggled playfully as I drank a swig of champagne.
“Want some?”
“There's only one thing I want right now,” he said hoarsely, his eyes devouring my body.
“Show me how much you want it,” I purred as I set the bottle down.
He stood, stepped over to me, and cupped one of my breasts in his hand as he gazed into my eyes. He kissed me suddenly, madly, and passionately. While one hand massaged my breast, the other slipped down my lower back to both grab my ass and pull me in closer to him.
As we kissed wildly, I grew more and more aroused. Heat was building between my legs, and a slick wetness was growing. I felt his hand move down from my breast, slowly, deliberately moving further and further down, caressing my body as he continued to kiss me.
A gentle brush of the inner thigh—just enough to cause me to jump with pleasure, but only for a split second as he moved it away to the outside of my leg. His other hand, meanwhile, was softly caressing my back. He was much gentler and slower than he had been the last time.
I, meanwhile, was running my fingertips over his gloriously hard, sculpted muscles, listening to him gasp with pleasure at each touch of my fingertips as he kissed me.
Again, he brushed my inner thigh ever so quickly, and a shiver of pleasure rushed through my body. He was teasing me, and it was working. A furious, unquenchable hunger was taking over.
His fingers were digging into my flesh, and his manhood, hard as steel, pressed with an almost explosive force against me.
Still, I refused to relinquish control.
I detached myself from our passionate kissing and grabbed a fistful of his hair. He reached up to grab my arm, but quickly, I shot out a hand and caught his wrist, preventing him from grabbing me.
“No,” I said. “You're going to do something for me first.”
And then, I sat on the edge of the tu
b and pulled his face down, still gripping his hair as I did. I spread my legs open for him, and felt the tightly-clenched muscles of his arm grow loose in my hand as his head moved towards the opening between my thighs.
With a sudden surge of strength, however, he yanked his arm out of my grasp, and then put both of his hands around my waist, almost forcefully.
It appeared that he wasn't willing to relinquish all aspects of control, after all.
Then, with a boost of primal strength, he lifted me up in the air, holding me aloft as if I were nothing but a child. The raw power in those heavy, muscular arms made my pulse race even faster. This was a true beast of a man, a wild savage beneath that cultured exterior.
Then he opened my legs and pulled them over his broad, muscle-knotted shoulders, so that his face was right up against my hot, wet, waiting opening. He kept me balanced there as he started to use his tongue, finding the exact center of sensation in but an instant.
With his powerful arms cradling me and stabilizing me, he began to lick rhythmically and steadily, building up wave after wave of sheer pleasure. I moaned and gasped as the rushes of pleasure became bursts of ecstasy, and then sheer, body-shuddering elation as an orgasm started to build with the patient yet vigorous action of his tongue.
As I stared up at the magnificent artwork splayed across the high ceiling above, it started: the first orgasm of the night.
The painting began to swirl, the figures coming alive with the intensity of the orgasm. I cried out in utter ecstasy, my whole body shuddering with a beautiful violence. And below me, still supporting me, he looked up, panting, gasping, and smiling with smug pleasure.
“That's just the first of the evening,” he said. “But the rest are going to be on my terms, Lilah—my terms.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Asher
I woke up to the sound of my phone vibrating somewhere in the room. Lilah was still fast asleep next to me. Groggily, I leaned over the edge of the huge canopy bed trying to reach my pants lying on the floor with the phone buzzing incessantly in one pocket. I half crawled, half fell out of the bed. Luckily, the rug in the floor was thick and plush, so there wasn't much of an impact or noise to wake the sleeping beauty beside me. I fumbled around with the pants and eventually managed to extricate the phone. Just before I answered, I glanced at the time. It was just after 4:00 in the morning.
“Hello?” I mumbled, still half-asleep but also trying to be quiet.
“Mr. Sinclair? It's Alan Weiss, head of security.”
I sat up straight, immediately feeling more awake. I quickly scrambled to my feet and headed for the bathroom so I could talk without being too loud.
“Alan, hi. Sorry, it's really early in the morning on this side of the world. I didn't recognize your voice. What’s going on?”
“I completely understand, sir. Listen, I'm gonna cut straight to the chase: there's been a break-in at your building.”
“What?! When?”
“We're here now, sir. The silent alarms went off 15 minutes ago. By the time we arrived, the perp had already fled the scene.”
If I hadn’t been awake before, I was on full alert now.
“What did they do? Did they steal anything? Any idea what they were after?”
“We're not sure yet. Whoever it was, they knew what they were doing. We've discovered tailor-cut photos taped over the security camera lenses to match the areas being surveyed. Whoever did this had done their homework—they knew where all the security cameras were and the exact view each security camera had.
“On a quick review of the footage, our best guess so far is that the intruder snuck in about an hour ago, slipped the photos in front of the cameras, and then calmly went about their business. They eventually triggered the silent alarm—the one that only you and I know of, sir—but like I said, by the time the onsite guards made it to the top floor, there was no one around.”
I sighed. This could be bad—stock plunging bad. There was a lot of sensitive information in those top floor offices. I didn't care about anything material being stolen, aside from a few fairly priceless historical relics in my office, but the theft of that data could bring my company to its knees.
“I'll call my pilot right now and be there as soon as possible, Alan.”
“All right, boss. We'll keep searching for the intruder. Maybe we can find something.”
“Get the best private investigators you can hire. We're going to need more than just the cops' help to solve this one.”
“I'm on it. Have a safe flight back, Mr. Sinclair.”
“Thanks, Alan. I’ll see you as soon as I get there.”
I cut off the call and shoved my hand through my hair, frustration setting in. This wasn’t good. I slowly opened the bathroom door and glanced across the room at Lilah as she slept peacefully and I wondered if she was dreaming of me. I hoped so.
I sighed. I hated that I had to leave. I'd been looking forward to spending the next two days with her, sightseeing, wining and dining her all across Paris, following through on what Colonel Tanaka had told me: show her your heart and leave the rest up to her. But this was an emergency, and I had to get back immediately.
I dialed my pilot's number, and he answered with a sleepy mumble.
“G-g-good morning, sir,” he managed to get out.
“Sorry to wake you, Zach, but I’m going to need you to get out of bed, get to the airport, and get the plane ready ASAP,” I said.
“N-now?”
“Yeah, now. We have no time to lose. It's an emergency.”
There was urgency in my voice, and I could hear that it was waking him up.
“Yes, sir,” he responded, with far more readiness this time. “We'll be ready to fly as soon as possible. See you there.”
My next call was to my driver, instructing him to stop by my hotel and pick up my clothes and belongings from my room. Then, I gave him the address of my current location and told him to pick me up from this hotel after he was done.
I then googled and called up a local chauffeur company for tourists.
“BD Chauffeurs, how can I help you?”
“Hi. I'd like a private chauffeur for the next two days. Luxury vehicle, on-call 24/7.”
“Certainly, sir. We currently have a senior driver with a Mercedes S-class available if that suits you?”
“Perfect.”
I gave them Lilah's details and told them to pick her up from the hotel when she called them.
I padded into the room and sat down on the edge of the bed, looking down at Lilah. I couldn't stop myself from leaning over and planting a gentle kiss on her forehead as she slept. She smiled in her sleep and then rolled onto her side. She was lost in the land of dreams. As much as I wanted to wake her, kiss her, and explain what was going on, I thought it would be best to let her sleep. I tiptoed back to the bathroom where I showered and freshened up before heading back into the bedroom where I got dressed in the previous night's clothes. I'd get into a fresh suit in the limo. It was spacious enough to get changed in.
I wrote a note for Lilah explaining the situation and giving her the details of the chauffeur company. I also told her I would have loved to have personally shown her around Paris but, because of the circumstances, she'd have to see it on her own.
I left her a company credit card and instructed her to use it to purchase a first-class ticket back home when the time came and for any incidentals and meals she might need. I also asked if she’d let me know when her flight would be set to arrive in the States so I could arrange for my driver to pick her up from the airport.
As if on cue, my phone buzzed as I was finishing up the note—my driver alerting me that he was waiting downstairs.
I gave Lilah one last kiss on her forehead, then quietly left the room.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Lilah
I woke up with a smile on my face and feeling . . . well . . . amazing. There was no other way to put it. The night of passion I'd shared with Asher had b
een mind-blowing. It had been physically exhausting and each time had been an experience but, despite this, it had recharged me and left me feeling invigorated. I was positively giddy, in fact.
I opened my eyes to the sunlight streaming in through the half-open drapes, expecting to see the glorious, sculpted form of Asher lying next to me. Anticipating yet another bout of intense lovemaking, I was left disappointed.
The other side of the vast canopy bed was empty, with only ruffled sheets and a strewn pillow to indicate that anyone had actually been there. On the floor, where our clothes had ended up in a pile, only my clothes remained.
For a few panicked moments, I had extremely urgent doubts about the reality of the whole situation. I rubbed my eyes. Had the whole thing been a dream?
I stretched, and climbed out of bed. That’s when I saw, positioned neatly on the ornate antique bedside table, a note written in Asher's untidy scrawl.
My heart sank as I read it. Asher had also left a credit card for me to use and had organized a chauffeur for me. He'd instructed me to buy a plane ticket back: first class. He'd said that all of this would be covered by him.
There I sat on the edge of the bed, alone again. Just like the morning after the last time we’d been together. Why hadn't he simply woken me up to tell me in person about this? And, why hadn't he been specific about what this supposed “emergency” was? After all, he knew I cared about the company, as well, even if I was a new member to the team, rather than the CEO.
Don’t get me wrong, I was grateful he'd left me a car and the credit card, but the whole night, between bouts of lovemaking, he'd said how much he was looking forward to seeing Paris with me. How he couldn't wait to see the museums, the galleries, the cafés, and the Eiffel Tower with me.
And yet, he had just left without a word, like a phantom in the night. Without even telling me clearly what the “emergency” was.
I fell back onto the bed. Despite the lingering ecstasy of the previous evening, I was beginning to wonder if Asher was someone I could completely trust. While a part of me wanted to give in to him and give all of me over to him, another part of me was hearing warning bells and seeing red flags waving all around.