Pleasure Payback

by Zara Cox

  I was terrified of what he was doing to me and terrified that he would stop. Damian toyed with my clit for mindless minutes, then sucked the swollen nub into his mouth. Over and over, he rolled it between his teeth and tongue, tortured me until I was on the brink of insanity.

  Heat gathered in my pelvis. Tingles danced up and down my spine. I sucked in a deep breath, ready to let go. But then, he eased away.

  ‘Don’t stop,’ I cried urgently.

  ‘Just for a minute, darling.’

  God. ‘No,’ I insisted, my fingers tightening in his hair.

  Firm fingers pried mine free, and, with casual strength that robbed me of what little breath I had, he flipped our positions, draped me over him, and let loose a wicked smile.

  ‘Judging by the decor of this room you get off on decadence. Don’t you, my dirty little thing?’

  I couldn’t stop myself from blushing. ‘Damian...’

  His fingers brushed my mouth. ‘Tell me what will get you off harder than me kneeling between your thighs. We can do that if you want but I get the feeling that’s a little too conventional for you tonight.’

  As if his invitation had opened a door, searing hot fantasies exploded in my brain. Fantasies I’d craved while reading my favourite erotic romances but had never given in to crowded my mind and delivered sizzling anticipation to my pussy. I could set them free now.

  And why not?

  Two years ago he used me. It was my turn to use him.

  I ignored the guilty little catch in my chest as his hand tightened insistently on my waist. ‘Qu’est-ce que tu veux, mademoiselle?’ he demanded gruffly.

  I gasped, my pussy getting unbelievably wetter. ‘You speak French?’

  ‘Parfaitment,’ he replied, his accent flawless.

  I hadn’t imagined I could be more turned on a second ago but he’d just achieved the impossible.

  Thrilled with his avid, almost worshipful gaze, I braced one hand on the top of the seat and swung my leg over him to rest my knee beside his head.

  Exposed to him, I expected to feel a little vulnerable, a lot self-conscious. But Damian’s thick, ragged groan infused me with more feminine power, although I almost disgraced myself by climaxing at the image of my pussy hovering three inches above his succulent lips.

  ‘Is this what you want, Neve? To sit on my face?’ he asked gutturally.

  ‘Yes. Oui,’ I breathed.

  Rough hands clamped onto my thighs. ‘Hold on tight,’ he advised, then drew me down to meet his lips.

  In a flash I was back at breaking point, this time with my arousal sharpened by a secret fantasy brought to life and at the point of fulfilment.

  Wracked in pleasure, I threw my head back and flagrantly rode Damian’s lips. His groans grew thicker and more urgent as I soared towards my climax.

  ‘Look at me, Neve,’ he instructed gruffly.

  Heart hammering, I met his turbulent hazel gaze, and, amazingly, that searing connection tossed another layer of pleasure onto the already blazing fire, as I watched Damian eat my pussy with unfettered eagerness, his growls of pleasure shoving me over the edge.

  With a scream, I tumbled headlong into orgasm. White-hot stars exploded across my vision, my body gripped with uncontrollable shudders as I came with a force I’d never known before.

  I was vaguely aware that he was supporting my weight as I helplessly convulsed above him. At some point, my back reconnected with the chaise and gentle kisses drifted over my face even as a litany of French words drifted over me.

  Dear God, Damian Mortimer speaks French.

  I should’ve been disgusted by the man’s accomplishments but he’d just given me my best orgasm yet. Complaining felt petty.

  Still drifting on a sea of bliss, I sighed as he rolled my stockings down my legs. When he lifted me up, I opened heavy, sated eyelids to watch him walk purposely towards the bed.

  He set me down long enough to pull back the bedspread and toss away a few excess pillows before placing me in the centre of the king-sized bed.

  My languor evaporated and renewed hunger spiked as I watched him unbutton his shirt and shrug it off.

  His trousers quickly followed and the sight I’d yearned for while quietly hating myself for two long years, the sight of a naked, gorgeous Damian, was exposed to me. A thick sound left my throat. His gaze dropped to my hands and I realised I was clutching the bedspread in an unguarded reaction to the sight of his body.

  ‘Christ, you’re so fucking sexy. You’re not even touching me and I’m ready to explode.’

  Intoxicated by his rabid stare, I drew my hands up my body, cupped my breasts and teased my nipples.

  ‘Fucking hell, Neve. What the hell are you doing?’

  What was I doing?

  Supposedly driving him to the brink. And yet here I was riding the edge with him. Wasn’t there a saying about revenge and digging two graves? Was I in danger of falling into the same pit I was creating for him?

  I pushed the thoughts away. This afternoon, when he’d spoken about his parents, I’d made the mistake of feeling sorry for him. Until he’d harshly turned on me.

  Whatever lurked in his past had moulded him into a hardened, cynical man who felt no qualms about the cruelty he spread around. Worse, he’d happily closed himself off from any sort of emotion, preferring to exist as an entity unto himself.

  I would be foolish to give into empathetic emotions.

  This was about sex. Nothing else.

  ‘If you want the torture to stop then come here and stop it.’

  He toed off his shoes and socks, grabbed a stack of condoms from his trousers before shucking them off.

  About to rip one condom open, I reached for it and set it to one side. I wasn’t ready to have him inside me. Not until I’d tasted him as thoroughly as he’d tasted me.

  Hunger building, I crawled to the edge of the bed and crooked my finger. Two long strides brought him within touching distance.

  My gaze rested on his gorgeous face, his square jaw, the sensual lips reddened by his sublime oral dexterity. The hard six-pack beautifully delineating his stomach made my mouth water as I took in the V grooves bracketing his hips, dovetailing to his thick, beautiful erection.

  ‘I want to suck your cock,’ I blurted. ‘Damn, I wish I could say that in French.’

  With a groan, he muttered something beneath his breath.

  He’d probably just translated but my need to have him in my mouth surpassed the need to hear him repeat it.

  Braced on my hands, I dropped an open-mouthed kiss in the groove between his pecs. With tiny flicks of my tongue, I trailed kisses to his navel before reversing direction. A nip of one hard, flat nipple earned me a pained hiss that delivered fresh wetness between my thighs.

  He jerked harder into my caress as I lavished equal attention on the twin nipple. By the time I made my way down his body to my mouth-watering destination, he was panting.

  My mouth closed over the head of his cock and his stomach muscles rippled in reaction. ‘Fuck, that’s incredible,’ he groaned.

  I sucked him deeper, swirling my tongue over his swollen crown. Urgent fingers gripped my hair, bore me down until he hit the back of my throat.

  Clad in just the corset, with my bare bottom high in the air, I felt shamelessly sexy and erotic. Damian confirmed it a moment later by boldly gliding his hand over my rump to my soaking wet pussy. ‘Do you have any idea how fucking magnificent you look right now?’

  Moaning, I sucked him enthusiastically, gliding my tongue down the underside of his shaft.

  It wasn’t enough. I wanted more. So much more. But my intentions scattered to the wind as Damian slid two fingers inside me.

  ‘I licked you dry moments ago but you’re soaking wet again. I want it, Neve. I want that hot pussy around my cock.’

  Since it wa
s exactly what I wanted, I released him and sat back onto my knees.

  His eyes were fevered, devouring pools. ‘Top or bottom, I don’t care. I just need to be inside you.’

  Barely able to think straight, I glided on the condom, stealing a moment to revel in his length.

  ‘Now,’ he snapped impatiently.

  Smiling, I reversed positions, and, with my back to him, met his gaze over my shoulder. ‘Fuck me, Damian.’

  He exhaled harshly and stepped between my legs. ‘Like this?’

  ‘Yes. Just like this. Hard and fast.’

  His hands glided over my bottom, gripped my waist hard before he leaned forward to growl in my ear. ‘Then that’s exactly how you’re going to get it.’

  ‘One more thing,’ I said in a voice I barely recognised as mine. ‘In French. You fuck me in French until I come.’

  His low laugh dissolved into a heated groan when I widened my stance. ‘Comme tu veux, ma chérie.’

  He notched the head of his cock against my core and rammed in deep. My scream drowned his groan as he gripped my hips and seated himself fully inside me.

  We both froze, frantically catching our breaths. ‘Mon Dieu, tu te sens incroyable.’ As the words tumbled from his lips, he ground his hips into my ass, the head of his cock nudging almost painfully at my end.

  My fingers convulsed in the sheets. ‘God, yes!’

  Triggered by my pleasure, Damian began to thrust, deep, hard strokes that tapped into hedonistic bliss.

  He fucked me like the ravenous beast I’d turned him into and I welcomed every single inch of him, turned inside out by the thrill of living out this fantasy.

  Decadent words tumbled from his lips and I fleetingly regretted the command for him to speak in French because I wanted to understand what he was saying. Nevertheless it added another dimension to the pleasure, and before I knew it the sizzling fire building inside exploded into an inferno. ‘I’m coming. Oh, God, I’m coming.’

  He grunted words I took to be encouragement, his speech slurring as he pistoned harder inside me.

  Bliss tore through me. I tumbled over the edge. A moment later, Damian followed, his harsh pants filling the room as he emptied himself inside me.

  When I collapsed onto the bed, he followed. I welcomed his weight, a small part of my brain craving that contact, that need not to feel so alone. And when he rolled us and caught me in his arms, I gladly went.

  Even though I knew that moment was fleeting, this intimacy only imagined.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Neve

  GENTLE HANDS BRUSHED the hair off my face, tucking strands behind my ear.

  ‘So now you’ve fully experienced it, do you love it?’ The low, growly voice whispered.

  For a moment my mind blanked.

  He was asking about the suite. Talking business. Whereas I was firmly back in bliss-land.

  ‘Water. I need water,’ I croaked through a throat sore from having screamed so many orgasms I could barely count. Thirst aside, an urgent need to avoid the eyes probing mine, sinking beneath my skin, powered through me. I attempted to dislodge him under the pretext of reaching for the crystal carafe of fresh water placed on the bedside table.

  ‘Wait. I’ve got it.’ Damian curled his fingers around my wrist, and even that gesture felt too intimate. Which was ridiculous after every debauched thing we’d done to each other since he walked into the suite.

  I tugged myself free, avoiding his slight frown as he moved away, poured a glass of water and handed it over.

  I drank deeply, aware of his eyes on me.

  ‘You want some? Or something stronger? You look thirsty.’ I’d meant to tease, but the abrupt shake of his head told me the joke had missed its mark.

  ‘I’m fine, thanks.’

  I frowned. ‘You’re set on giving me that complex, aren’t you?’

  His lips flattened. ‘It’s not you. It’s me.’

  My fingers tightened around the glass. ‘Seriously?’

  He grimaced. ‘I can’t... I don’t want to talk about it.’

  The thinnest blade of anguish sliced through the terse reply, making my insides tremble and threatening to disintegrate that stone of retribution I was so desperate to hang onto.

  It scared me. But it didn’t shake the need to understand him.

  ‘There’s nothing wrong in admitting a drinking problem, Damian.’

  His bark of laughter was pure bitterness. ‘I’m not an alcoholic, darling. Not even a recovering one. In fact I have zero problems with booze.’

  ‘Then what is it? Did something happen?’

  ‘Jesus, you’re like a dog with a fucking bone, aren’t you?’

  I flinched. He saw it and sighed. ‘Neve—’

  ‘It’s late.’ I set the glass down with a loud click. ‘It’s time we call it a night.’

  ‘You’re not staying here till morning? Or are you kicking just me out, again?’ Grim amusement twisted around his bitterness.

  But I was done laughing. Somehow Damian kept hurling me back to a default setting of compassion and caring I couldn’t control.

  Despite all my reservations.

  Despite all the hard, harrowing rejections I’d been subjected to from my mother.

  I slid towards the side of the bed opposite to where he now stood, gloriously naked and infinitely jumpable. ‘I have an early start in the morning,’ I stressed, probably more for myself. Because my heart was doing that lurching, clenching thing again. The one that resembled loss and missing even though this man wasn’t mine in any way. Even though this was meant to be a clinical exercise.

  I stood. And wobbled like damn Bambi on ice. Damian was on me before I could take a step.

  ‘You okay?’ His hands drifted down my arms to cup my elbows.

  That compulsion I couldn’t fight made me glance into his too-handsome face. To the concern etched in his eyes. Dear God, he was a master at playing hot and cold.

  ‘I’m fine,’ I snapped.

  Concern only deepened. ‘We don’t have to leave, Neve.’

  I hesitated, seduced by the idea of sliding back into the warm bed, with an even warmer promise of having Damian slide in with me, holding me close into the night, falling asleep in a boneless heap with him.

  Waking up with him.

  A deep yearning for all the above shook through me further, unseating my goals. ‘The hotel is at ninety per cent capacity. This suite needs to be converted back to its original state, ready for new guests on Monday. I need to vacate so that can happen.’

  Despite us both knowing that wasn’t the main reason, he didn’t argue. After a short stretch he nodded and stepped back.

  My limbs felt shaky and drained as I headed to the closet, conscious of his gaze sliding over me. Despite my many orgasms, my body started to heat up again, my clit swelling at the thought of sex.

  With more than a little desperation I pulled on my clothes and slipped my feet into heeled sandals. A quick glide of my fingers through my hair to mitigate the mess, I turned around.

  Damian was dressed, although his shirt was only half buttoned. In his hands he held my French bustier, robe, stockings and shoes. The blaze in his eyes as his gaze met mine nearly flayed me. Slowly he advanced towards me. ‘You’ll need these back, I think, unless you want to scandalise Housekeeping?’

  I rescued the tote bag containing the toys I never got around to using from the closet and snatched the clothes from him. About to shove them away, I noticed one vital missing piece. ‘Where are my panties?’

  ‘No idea.’

  For some absurd reason, his shameless pilfering made me want to smile. ‘Seriously?’

  He held his arms aloft. ‘Feel free to frisk me,’ he invited.

  The temptation to do just that, in the most thorough way possible, made me grip the tote harde
r.

  God, what was wrong with me? I was grappling with answers I didn’t want to when he tugged the bag out of my hands.

  ‘Shall we?’ He nodded at the door.

  Protests rose and died on my lips as warmth suffused me. The feminist inside me wanted to vehemently deny that I needed him to do something as mundane as walking me out of a hotel room.

  But for once, I wanted to experience the art of walking out with Damian, rather than watching him exit.

  In silence we walked out of the east wing, down the winding stone paths that led to the main building separating the three parts of the hotel. My feet slowed as we reached the diverging paths. We’d never parted on cordial terms. I wasn’t even sure this counted as cordial but I cleared my throat nonetheless to dispel the awkwardness assailing me.

  ‘Umm... I’m headed this way.’

  Expecting him to walk away, I froze when he nodded and adjusted his course.

  ‘Your suite is that way, Damian.’

  He placed his hand on my back and nudged me forward. ‘I’m aware. I don’t care what your safety record is around here. It’s after midnight. I’m walking you home.’

  Again I opened my mouth to protest. Again I closed it.

  Because I liked Damian’s hand on my waist.

  Because I liked the warm body so close to mine that smelled of aftershave and sweaty sex.

  Because I am a raving sex maniac who needs her head examined?

  ‘So how come you inherited this place from your grandparents?’

  I jumped, startled by the direction of the conversation. ‘What?’

  He shrugged. ‘I had a little time on my hands after you kicked me out last night. I did some research. There were a couple of paragraphs about your grandparents on the history of this place. It mentioned one child, a daughter, so I’m guessing they were your maternal grandparents?’

  I frowned. ‘Yes.’

  ‘It’s not a secret, is it?’

  A little dazed by his interest, I shook my head. ‘No.’

  He nodded and we walked in silence until, ‘So why not your mother?’

  Maybe it was the warm hand in the small of my back. Maybe it was the smooth, deep interest in his voice. Whatever it was, I found myself replying.