by Lora Leigh
She couldn’t imagine Stephen, Craig, or Beau being that confident of their ability to control her. Anything was possible where those three were concerned, she guessed, but she simply couldn’t imagine that one of them wouldn’t consider the fact that her father had been in the process of having her restrained and shipped off to an asylum in France before she’d finally agreed to the engagement.
That had been the reason she’d attempted to talk to Tehya the night they were kidnapped. She’d wanted help to escape, and she’d known Tehya had the connections to help her with that when it was revealed Jordan Malone was her lover.
“According to Beau,” Ivan’s voice intruded on the conversation then, “Stephen and Craig cut their own throats.” Satisfaction filled his voice. “Beau wasn’t named as CEO. Your husband, as in whoever you married, was named to take over control of the Taite holdings should Stephen and Craig meet their demises or become otherwise incapacitated. But only your first husband. Successive husbands need not apply.”
The pure satisfaction in Ivan’s voice was terrifying.
“Did you suspect this when you decided you were going to marry me?” she asked him, suspicion flaring at the knowing look in his gaze.
Damn him, she hated that look. Equal parts arrogance and certainty mixed with far too many secrets.
Jordan chuckled at her question and answered for Ivan. “We managed to pry the information out of Beau just before dinner and have spent the time since verifying it. It seems no name was included with the husband part. The moment you marry Ivan, he comes into full control of not just the companies but the family finances as well. Which means he can do what Beau can’t and cut off the funds to the Taites’ lawyers.”
Journey could feel herself pale as her dinner became a leaden weight in her stomach.
“He’ll kill you,” she whispered. “He won’t stop.”
“We may have an answer for that.” Jordan took the chair beside his wife as Ivan settled in beside her, his arm going over her shoulder.
“Really?” She highly doubted that. “And exactly what is your answer?”
Ivan’s low chuckle was far too confident.
“I have the date for the marriage announced in the papers tomorrow, setting it for next summer,” Ivan answered her. “That will forestall any hasty moves on their part. Meanwhile, I’ll have the priest slipped into the house in the morning, and with Jordan and Tehya as well as my family to witness, we’ll have a quiet ceremony. Once everything’s official, I’ll have notices sent that the marriage has already occurred, but the wedding next year will be for friends and associates, as well as to provide my lovely bride a chance to have the wedding all women dream of.”
She stared at him silently, uncertain if she should be shocked, surprised, or simply astounded by his nerve. He was going to enrage Stephen and Craig to the point that their heads would explode.
“You’re crazy,” she whispered.
The smile he gave her was approving, as though she’d finally figured out something momentous.
“My first act as head of the family will be to cut off the attorneys’ fees and payments to the guards and prisoners who make their lives so cushy.” Something cold and dangerous flashed in his gaze then. “With those funds cut off, striking against either of us will be impossible, love. And they’ll have no chance, period, of striking against our child.”
“And you think this will stop them?” she whispered. “Ivan, if they kill you, Beau will retain control of the company, the funds will be reinstated, and our child won’t have a chance to draw its first breath.”
“Journey, in the event something happens to Ivan, within moments you’ll disappear along with his child, I promise you that,” Jordan spoke up, defending the plan. “You want to be free of Stephen and Craig? This is the only way. That, or marry Beau.”
Ivan snorted at that. “It would be hard for her to marry a dead man, don’t you think? I’d kill him first.”
And Journey had a feeling he wasn’t joking in the least.
She stared at him, remembering what Sophia had said earlier, and comparing this man against the one she’d seen and heard tales of since she was barely more than a child.
Cold. Brutal. Without compassion or mercy, she’d always heard. But that was never the man she had seen. From that ball when she was sixteen to this moment, Ivan’s gaze had always held warmth and compassion. He could be teasing, somber, thoughtful, but he’d never been cold to her, or with her. And from that first night in Colorado when he and Ilya jerked her off the streets, he’d been nothing if not protective, sheltering.
She doubted he truly loved her, but she had a feeling he’d never, not in word or manner, act as though he didn’t. He cared for her perhaps, and she wondered if that could possibly be enough?
That still didn’t mean that this habit of his of playing games with the enemy wasn’t going to get him killed.
chapter sixteen
He was determined to push Stephen and Craig Taite into hysterical rage. Once this little plan of his was put into effect, things would explode.
“You’re crazy!” Journey turned to face the man determined to make her insane and get himself killed in the process. “Stephen and Craig still have friends, you admitted that yourself. Friends that would help them. You can’t play games like this, Ivan.”
He merely arched a brow at her and began unbuttoning his shirt, his gaze turning heated and hungry as lust filled his expression.
“Ivan, we need to discuss this.” She was on the verge of stomping her foot in sheer frustration.
He’d countered every argument since Jordan and Tehya had left and apparently he was tired of discussing it if his expression was anything to go by.
“No, we can discuss this later. When I’m able to concentrate on the conversation rather than the sheer pleasure of being buried inside that hot little pussy. Now get naked,” he growled.
The shirt fell carelessly to the floor and his hands dropped to his belt as she stared back at him in amazement.
“You just…” She waved a hand, flushing at the erotic words.
“Fucked you?” His grin was pure wicked delight. “I know, and it was incredible. I think I’m addicted though. I need my fix.”
She couldn’t help but blink back at him, aware that he was making quick work of shedding his slacks.
“Come on, baby; you’re not undressed enough. I’ll end up tearing your clothes off you again.” He didn’t appear bothered by the thought.
“We have to discuss this first.” She was on the verge of whimpering as her body sensitized, her breasts swelling, the flesh between her thighs heating in need. “You’ll end up exhausting me. I’ll fall asleep, and the next thing I know we’ll be married before ever discussing it.”
He shrugged, then stole her breath as the slacks were pushed from his long legs, revealing the heavy proof of his erection. The engorged crest and heavily veined shaft drew her attention, scrambling her senses and causing the heated, slick moisture to spill from her vagina. Oh God, she was so weak because she wanted nothing more than to give in and forget about his machinations. At least for a while.
She had to fight for breath, to think, because she wanted nothing more than to tear her clothes off and spread herself out for him. But he did this every time she tried to convince him that Stephen and Craig could not be anticipated. They had friends and resources they kept carefully hidden, and would pull out if backed in a corner.
“Stop trying to manipulate me,” she moaned, knowing she couldn’t deny him.
She was the one addicted, she thought. Addicted to his touch, the sound of his voice, his very presence. Otherwise, she’d be able to enforce the fact that they really needed to discuss this. They seriously needed to discuss this.
“Take those clothes off, Syn, or I’ll tear them off you,” he demanded. “I won’t be able to wait long, and I wanted to fuck those pretty lips a minute before things begin to get serious.”
Having him fuck her m
outh wasn’t serious? She disagreed, and so did the sudden hunger for the taste of him.
“I hate you,” she muttered as she hurriedly began pulling off her clothes.
“Sweet Jesus,” he rasped as she stripped to reveal the lacy black bra, the high-cut panties, and the garter belt that held the silky, smokey stockings on her legs. “Fuck, Journey, if I’d known what you were wearing downstairs then there’s no way I could have waited. Leave it,” he demanded when her hands lifted to the front closure of her bra. “Just leave the fucking thing on.”
He was staring at her like a man starved for sex now. Drugged on the need for it.
“Ivan…” She let her hands fall to her sides, staring back at him, still so uncertain when it came to his need for her.
She couldn’t think when he did this to her. She couldn’t get past her own anticipation and need to find a single, logical thought.
“God, that expression on your face,” he whispered. “So innocent, still uncertain of the pleasure I give you or your need for it.”
“Uncertain”? “Dazed” was more like it.
She licked her lips slowly, watching as his eyes followed the movement and the lust in his expression increased.
“Innocent?” she asked him softly, wondering just how far she could push him. “Is it innocence that has me aching to have you fuck my mouth? Or your tongue driving inside my pussy?”
Sweet Jesus. Ivan felt his head explode and he swore he nearly came with nothing but air surrounding his dick. Hell, she needed to talk dirty to him some more. The sound of her voice, so filled with feminine hunger, with a sensual wickedness that couldn’t be practiced, shredded his control.
Then she moved.
Still wearing heels, the lacy bra, the panties, and the garter belt holding that silky hose on her legs.
He was going to fuck her with those shoes on.
He gripped the base of his dick as she came to him, her movements slow, sensual, her expression both mysterious and innocent.
“Do you want to lay down?” she asked him. “Or stand there while I take you in my mouth?”
He had to tighten his fingers around his cock to keep from coming.
“Why don’t I just lay down,” he suggested, “and you put that pretty pussy on my mouth while I fuck yours?”
Her green eyes darkened, a flush mounted her cheeks, and he swore her nipples got harder beneath the black lace, teasing and tempting his mouth.
Anticipation burned through him as he lay back on the bed and crooked his finger at her, urging her to him.
“Leave the heels on, baby,” he warned her as she paused as though to slide them off.
Her eyes dazed for a moment, her gaze moving along his body to the straining length of his cock.
“Come here, my Syn, let me suck your nipples first,” he urged her. “You can take that bra off now.”
She was going to cause him to have a stroke. Good Lord above but the woman had an effect on him that he had no defenses against.
She released the clip and drew it slowly from her as she shook her head. “I want you to fuck my mouth first, Ivan.” Oh hell, he was going to come if she said that again. “And do like you promised.” A slender knee braced her on the bed. “Fuck me with your tongue.”
He didn’t give her time to come to him and straddle his face. He reached for her, gripped her hips, and pulled her to him, guiding one leg over his head until he pulled the slick, glistening folds of her pussy to his mouth.
He didn’t even care if her lips made it to his dick. All he cared about was fucking her pussy however he could. And he did just that. As he jerked her hips down, his tongue found her clit, the swollen little bud sweet and hot against his tongue, in his mouth. He slid his hands to the curve of her ass, gripped the rounded flesh, and pulled her closer as he felt her upper body lowering.
Hell, he’d never survive this. It wasn’t possible. There was no way he had the strength to keep from releasing to her mouth too soon. He felt like a fucking teenager ready to blow his first nut.
At the first stroke of her tongue over the engorged head his entire body tightened. His cock strained to be closer and it took everything he had not to thrust past her lips to fuck her mouth immediately. But then there was the sweet, heated moisture spilling from her pussy, meeting his tongue. Ah God, she was so good.
This was going to kill him. She was going to lay him to waste and leave him scrambling to survive the aftermath. Because that tongue of hers was hungry too. It was a lash of sweet, feminine need that all but destroyed his control.
He wouldn’t last long. Even as he savored the slick, sweet taste of her, grew drunk on her, he knew once she covered the sensitive crest with her mouth, he could start the countdown. He might make it a few seconds. If he was lucky. God, he’d have to be damned lucky.
* * *
She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t think.
As she licked over the engorged crest of Ivan’s cock, the clean male scent of him infused her senses and amplified her need for him. His lips and tongue were on her clit, circling it, sucking it, and pushing her to an edge she could barely hold on to. And she saw it as entirely unfair. He needed to be just as crazy, just as damned senseless with pleasure, as she was.
Parting her lips, she surrounded the tip and slowly slid her lips down, taking it into her mouth, sucking him as deep as she could take him as her tongue caressed and licked. The engorged crest that was thick, throbbing as her lips stretched around it. It filled her mouth, silk over iron, pure male heat and lust, and she was so hungry for him.
His hips jerked, burying the throbbing flesh deeper and shredding her control. At the same time, his tongue drove deep inside her pussy, filling her, nearly triggering her orgasm.
Journey fought to just stay sane just for a few moments, a few seconds. But the second she felt the first hungry thrust of Ivan’s tongue inside her, she knew she was going to lose her grip on her sanity in no time at all.
Crying out around the wide crest, she tightened her lips on him as her fingers curved around his balls, learned the shape of them, caressed them. Tried to maintain just enough of her senses to give him pleasure as he jerked her into a careening storm of sensation that threatened from second to second to throw her over the edge into orgasm.
Just when she was certain she couldn’t hold on much longer, she gasped breathlessly as he lifted her, pulling her from him and tossing her on her back on the bed. Her panties were torn from her, somewhere she lost a shoe, and before she could draw a breath she was penetrated, her inner flesh stretching, pleasure-pain tearing a breathless cry from her as her hips arched to him as he guided her legs until they encased his hips.
As he came over her, his lips covered hers, sharing her taste with her, and shredded that last fragile hold she had on reality. It took three hard thrusts to bury his full length inside her, and on that final thrust she shattered. Her inner muscles clamped down on him as shudders began tearing through her body.
A second later, he groaned against her lips, his hips jerked, his cock throbbing inside her as she felt his release spilling inside her.
It was so good. Oh God, it was so good. What he did to her, where the pleasure he gave her took her, was something she knew she’d grieve the loss of, should he ever grow tired of her.
With Ivan, once he got her in a bed there were always seconds though. Her orgasm hadn’t eased when he began thrusting inside her again, each impalement slower now, caressing, stroking nerve endings still sensitive from her release.
His lips moved over her neck, kissing, stroking, then to her breasts, where he sucked first one nipple, then the other even as his cock thrust hard and heavy inside her.
She swore she’d never survive it, but she was always certain she’d never survive it. What he did to her should be illegal. It was probably illegal somewhere.
Her nails dug into his shoulders; she might have raked them down his shoulders at one point. With each draw of his mouth on her nipples, each har
d thrust of his hips, he made her beg with ever-increasing desperation.
He held her orgasm back, refused to let her slip from that edge as she reached for the violent, ecstatic explosions she knew would overtake her. Perspiration sheened both their bodies, her breaths were gasping cries, and pleasure became the edge of rapture. Just the edge. Always building, growing hotter, more desperate.
His teeth nipped at a nipple, his lips kissed their way to her neck, and God, finally, his thrusts increased.
Harder, faster.
She strained toward him. Her hips arched to him, the muscles of her pussy clenched around his shuttling cock, and when the explosion came it was catastrophic. It blazed through her like wildfire, overtook her, and shattered her into so many fragments of ecstasy that she was certain she’d never find all the pieces of her soul again.
He held them.
He owned them, just as he owned her.
And God help her, because she had a feeling not only would she never be free, but also she’d never want to be free again. And should he ever release her, she might not survive it.
* * *
When he could breathe again, Ivan forced himself from the grip Journey had on him, gritting back a groan of pleasure as her pussy stroked over the highly sensitive head of his cock.
Collapsing next to her, he drew her to him, and listened with a deep core of satisfaction as she too struggled to catch her breath.
He stroked his hand down her back to the rounded curve of her rear, marveling at the softness of her skin, at what she did to him.
He’d bedded some of the most experienced women in his social sphere and at any time during the act he could have risen from the bed and walked away. But with this woman, he wasn’t certain anything could tear him from the pleasure she gave him.
“I wish I had come to you sooner,” she said, her voice soft as she lay against his chest. “Those first weeks when they forced my engagement to Beau, you were in town. I wanted to. It was all I could do to stay away from you then.”