by Faye Avalon
“It’s the reason I bought the place.
“Investment banking. It’s a pretty conservative world, right?”
“Is that code for stuffy?”
“No. Just asking. I’d imagine you’re an upright sort of bunch. You know, free of scandal and all that.”
He laughed. “You don’t read the papers much, do you?”
“No.” She stuck her chin in the air, affronted by the kind of remark she’d heard all her life. “Stupid Gina doesn’t have the smarts to understand what’s happening on the world stage.”
“That’s not what I meant.” He tilted his head, considering her. “What’s with the chip?”
“No chip, at least not much of one. It’s just that people, men, seem to think I don’t have the capacity to think about things like politics, religion, or the economy.”
“Maybe because that’s the persona you project. Always trying to be the bad girl, especially back in college. Skipping classes, missing assignments.”
“I was seventeen. I’ve got my own business now. Priorities change.”
“Yet you still act like you’re just out for a good time.”
“What’s wrong with that?”
He shrugged. “Maybe it stops you from focusing on the stuff that really matters.”
She paused with the glass halfway to her lips. There was something desperately unsettling about the way he seemed to keep tuning into her deepest thoughts and feelings. She folded one arm around her chest, as if she could prevent him from seeing further into her psyche. “What?” she demanded. “You met me again last night for the first time in twelve years and you’re an expert on me and my life?”
“It doesn’t take much to work out that you don’t want to get too close to anyone.”
“And you’ve based that on what? That I want to expand my business, focus on being a successful businesswoman?”
“That every time I try and talk, you get defensive. That you’re getting edgy and irritable now because we’re talking instead of having sex.”
“I’m not edgy and irritable. I’m a healthy woman with healthy needs. What’s wrong with that?”
“Nothing at all. Why don’t we sit down?”
Damn the man. Why couldn’t he get her in the sack without all this damn need to converse? What was the point of conversation anyway? It was only words. They didn’t mean diddly squat.
She wanted to tell him to stick his drink, stick his conversation, and that she was going home. But then she wouldn’t get the job done, would she? She would still be at Costas’s mercy. As would her mother.
“Can I use your bathroom?”
“Out the hall. First on the left.”
She took a fortifying swig of wine, then placed the glass on the table next to the sofa where he sat watching her, and hurried out into the hall.
In the bathroom, she dumped her bag on the marble counter and dug out her phone. She blew out a breath noting it was still on camera standby. Looking up at her reflection, she noted her flushed cheeks. She could do this. She had to do this. All she needed was to get Mitch naked, satiated from some energetic sex, then—when his eyes were closed—she could take the photo.
She hated the squeeze in her chest at the thought of doing such an awful thing to Mitch. This whole thing was a nightmare. How the hell had she gotten herself into this mess in the first place?
Because she’d been stupid enough to go against her instincts. It wasn’t as if she and Costas hadn’t indulged in some light BDSM before. Truth be known, she’d quite liked being tied up and at a man’s mercy. But, while she hadn’t minded being blindfolded, she’d only ever wanted her hands tied.
Costas had pleaded with her to let him go further and tie her ankles. Her gut had screamed no, but because the sex was so dynamite between them, she’d gone against those instincts and let him do it.
He’d played with her for a while, told her how amazing she was and how he loved looking at her. Then he’d laughed. When he’d taken off her blindfold, the full realization of what he’d done became apparent when he’d taken a partially obscured camcorder from the shelf. He’d told her that he loved watching her as he played with her, and that now other men would get to enjoy the spectacle too.
She’d begged him to untie her, suddenly feeling desperately vulnerable as she lay spread open before him, her wrists and ankles bound, while he held the machine.
Fully clothed, he’d strolled around the bed. “I’ve got some excellent footage, baby doll. You put on a good show.”
She’d struggled against the restraints. “Untie me, you bastard.”
“I have a little proposition for you,” he’d said as if she hadn’t spoken. “All you need to do is use your excellent persuasive skills to get a certain gentleman into bed. Once there, you’ll get me a photograph of said gentleman in, shall we say, a compromising position.”
“This is ridiculous. Untie me.”
Still, he’d strolled the perimeter of the bed, shaking the camcorder. “If you refuse to do this little thing for me? Well, I’ll have no alternative but to release your little show for public consumption. It should go viral in minutes. No. Make that seconds.”
“You wouldn’t.” But her chilled body had turned to ice, her heart pounding in her chest, because she’d known he would. “You have your own reputation to consider.” Her voice had trembled as she tried to reason with him. “You’re a businessman. What will people say when they recognize you?”
“You think I’m stupid enough to be on camera?” He had grinned and tapped the machine. “I positioned this at just the right angle to ensure my identity is protected while capturing you in delicious detail. Plus, should it prove necessary, I have an excellent photo editing program.”
Costas had leaned over her, his eyes gleaming with malicious intent. “Now, let’s think about this for a moment, shall we? Who, I wonder, would be most affected by the sight of Gina McKenzie spread out naked on a bed, tied up and being subjected to delicious sexual delicacies by an unknown administrator?”
Oh God. No.
“Ah yes. I can see from your expression that you’ve made the connection. It wouldn’t make good press for a potential borough mayor of our fine city to have her only daughter caught in flagrante delicto.”
As Gina continued to stare at her reflection in Mitch’s mirror, she felt the same nausea settle in her stomach, the same icy despair flow through her veins.
Aside from her own embarrassment, her mother might never recover from the shame of having her daughter’s transgressions plastered across the internet. She’d worked for years in the political arena and her good name was hard won and untainted by scandal. The focus had saved her after Gina’s father had walked out. There was no way Gina would jeopardize her mother’s future and all the good work she had strived so hard to achieve.
Popping her phone back in her bag, she left the bathroom.
In the living room, Mitch sat balancing his glass on his knee. He’d been wondering if pushing through to the ultimate outcome of what he’d started back in her studio was the best course of action. Which probably meant he needed his head examined. What man in his right mind would pass up the opportunity to bed a willing woman—and one with whom he had a personal vendetta? Okay, maybe that was a bit dramatic, but he’d spoken the truth when he’d told her he’d dreamt about fucking her since they were in college. Yet since that humiliation in the shower room, maybe his motive hadn’t exactly been altruistic. He had wanted a kind of revenge, he realized now. Wanted to fuck her so hard that she’d regret not going through with it all those years ago and mourn what she’d missed.
Now he’d been considering a new game plan. She’d liked what he’d done to her back in the studio, so much that she was practically begging for him to go all the way.
But what then? Would she dump him after she’d gotten what she wanted?
Move on to the next thrill, the next challenge?
Perhaps his best course of action was to play her along for a while. Keep her wanting more. He wanted her to know what she’d missed when she’d dumped him back in college, and he also wanted her to stop seeing him as the good guy.
If he fucked her now, she might just move on. She’d bolt and leave him with a taste of her that one fuck would never satiate. Not that he had any doubt about his ability to keep her satisfied and coming back for more—at least he had no doubt with any other woman. But Gina was a totally different female. He never could figure her out. He wasn’t entirely certain she wouldn’t dump him just for the hell of it, and to prove some bizarre point known only to her.
She came back into the room. Without saying anything, she grabbed her wine and took a long swallow. He could feel her tension from here and had no doubt she was experiencing a jolt of sexual frustration that equaled his own. The only difference between them was he had a plan, while she was looking only for that quick release. He bit back a grin, wondering how she’d react when he slowed things down.
There was no way it was going to be quick. And there was no way it was going to be over. He had something different in mind. He only hoped his own nerves, and cock, could stand it.
“Want another of those?” he asked as she downed the remainder of her wine.
She shook her head, then pursed her lips and looked down into her empty glass as if it held the secrets of the universe. Then her shoulders jerked in a quick shrug. “Why not?”
Without waiting for him, she went over to his bar and helped herself. “Do you want a top up?” she asked without looking at him.
“I’ll pass.” He wanted to keep his head clear for what he had in mind.
“So how come you haven’t jumped me yet?” she asked as she met his gaze. He noted she hugged the wall of his living room beside the bar as if she were scared to leave the safety of her corner. It intrigued him some more. One minute, she was desperate for him to be inside her, the next she was sending out nervous vibes he’d expect from a virgin on the brink of losing her virtue. She was a fucking enigma.
He took a sip of his wine and watched her over the rim of his glass. “What’s your hurry? Do you need to be someplace else?”
“No.” She started walking toward him, but when she hesitated he noted something in her eyes. Damn sure it wasn’t uncertainty, although that was what he’d have put his money on.
Was she playing him the way he was playing her?
As she stood there, he sat back in his chair as if getting comfortable. “Take off your dress.”
He noticed that she clutched her glass in front of her chest as if it were a shield.
“Why don’t you do it? Better still, why don’t we hit your bedroom and get naked at the same time?”
He grinned. “The last time we tried that, you ran off with my clothes and left me in a slight predicament.”
“I thought you weren’t going to hold that against me.” Absently, she ran her finger around the rim of her glass. “Besides which, this is your place. If I steal your pants, you’ve probably got a wardrobe full of others.”
He raised his drink in salute. “Good point.”
She placed her unfinished wine on an occasional table, then brought her gaze back to his. Reaching around to the back of her dress, she unbuttoned it, and ran her tongue slowly along her bottom lip. Blood steamed through his veins and his cock jumped in anticipation.
“How’s that?” she asked as the dress pooled at her feet and his gaze ran down the length of her, hovering for delicious long moments at her breasts and the strip of silk covering her cunt.
“Pretty good for starters.” His tongue felt thick in his mouth, his throat dry. She started to walk toward him, but he held up his hand and stopped her in her tracks. “Now the bra.”
Again, she reached around and unhooked the lacy bra. She covered the cups of the bra with her arm, so that the sides fell away but he couldn’t yet see her tits. Watching him, she slipped the straps from her shoulders, then slowly dropped her arm. The bra fell away to reveal plump, ripe breasts and dusky nipples standing proud. She threw the bra onto the floor.
This time she didn’t move, obviously tuned in to his desire for a full striptease. When she started to draw down the sides of her thong, he stopped her.
“I didn’t tell you to take those off.”
Her eyes went wide, before narrowing into sexy slits as she sashayed toward him.
He swallowed. “I didn’t tell you to move either.”
That stopped her in her tracks. “Do you want me to just stand here?”
“No. I want to watch you play with those delicious breasts.”
Shit, he didn’t quite know what the hell he was doing. Watching her play with herself would not exactly help his raging hard-on or settle the tension in his chest that made it more and more difficult to breathe. But he had a need to control her. Bend her to his will. That need grew each moment he spent with her, and every time she tried to speed things up, he had the overwhelming desire to slow them down. Torture her. Torture them both.
When she cupped her breasts and began slowly kneading them, he swallowed hard past a painfully parched throat. Her thumbs brushed over her hardened nipples and he had to suck in a breath to stop from shuffling in the chair and alerting her to his discomfort.
But the witch knew anyway. He could see it in her darkening eyes, her slow smile, the way she deepened the gyrations she made with her hips. Fuck and damn. He had to stop her.
“That’s enough,” he said in a tone that was low and ominous. He inclined his head to her crotch. “Now take them off.”
She hooked one thumb into the side of her thong, slipping the fingers of her free hand beneath the silky panel covering her pussy. She was going to play with herself. Shit. His cock couldn’t stand that. He was already in danger of shooting his load right there. He remembered how she’d felt beneath his mouth. Hot and slick. If she slipped her finger inside that beautiful cunt, he was definitely going to explode.
“You don’t take orders too well,” he growled.
She froze for a second, and he wondered if his warning had scared her. But then she smiled. “That all depends what you have in mind. And what’s in it for me.”
He waited for long moments. Then he took a swig from his glass. “My bedroom’s out the hall and the last room on the right.” He fixed her with a steady gaze. “Go there. Lie on the bed and wait for me. I expect you to be totally naked when I arrive.”
For some reason, he’d thought she’d argue, but she picked up her glass. “May I pay another visit to the bathroom on my way, oh Masterful One?” She waited for him to nod, then turned and walked out on those fuck-me shoes and with her gorgeous ass wiggling as she went.
He downed the rest of his wine in one go, then dropped his head back against the chair. His plan was disintegrating before his eyes, because no way was he going to be able to hold off fucking her at this rate. But he was still uncertain if their liaison would be a one of a kind thing—whether she intended to scratch an itch, then be on her way. If he had any sense, he’d be happy with that arrangement himself. He’d get to do her, scratch his own twelve year itch, and then put her out of his mind for good. What was the problem with that?
Because he didn’t know, he pushed it from his mind and renewed his determination not to take things to their logical conclusion right then. He wasn’t at all sure why, but he wanted there to be other nights. Something told him he wouldn’t get his fill of Gina McKenzie with one measly romp between the sheets. Besides, if he was going to be mercenary about it, he deserved more than a solitary fuck for the humiliation she’d put him through. Maybe he did deserve some payback. And he was going to get it.
If that meant holding off on fucking her tonight, he’d damn well have to do it.
With his resolve fixed
anew, he headed for the bathroom.
Chapter Six
Gina couldn’t shake the feeling of unease that had settled in her since remembering that night with Costas.
The way Mitch had ordered her around, and now lying here naked on his bed, was too damn close to how it had started that night with Costas. He’d told her to do much the same thing. Get naked, lie on his bed and wait for him. When he’d come in, he’d blindfolded her and proceeded to tie her hands and then—hell, it still brought her out in a cold sweat—her ankles.
If Mitch came into the room carrying a scarf and ties, she was going to hightail it out of there and think about the consequences later.
Except she had to get that bloody photograph.
Having sex with Mitch wasn’t exactly abhorrent to her. She’d dreamed of it often enough. She’d fought the attraction all through college, but had warned herself off him. He’d been too regular for her. Too easy to fall for. And she wasn’t ever going to fall hard for any man.
The intervening years hadn’t made the attraction lessen. If anything, it was more potent now, more intense and urgent.
She wanted him. Wanted his hands all over her. Wanted him inside her.
If things had been different, she could have enjoyed this for what it was; a quick fling with a hot guy. But she was doing this for a reason and one reason only. It couldn’t be anything more. She wouldn’t let it be.
As soon as she got the photo of Mitch, Costas would hand over the video and it would all be over. Until then, she’d simply have to suck it up and do whatever Mitch wanted.
As she lay on the bed, her thong and heels discarded, she looked up at the ceiling. What was taking him so long? He’d stayed in the bathroom long enough for her to notice, and still hadn’t joined her on the bed.
She reached down for her bag. For the umpteenth time, she checked to make sure her phone was on camera standby, then reached into the back zipper pocket and pulled out a condom. She knew that Mitch would take care of it, but it didn’t hurt to be doubly prepared.