by Mel Teshco
She should have felt a little fear, a little trepidation. She didn’t. Something thrilling took hold of her insides even before one of his hands dropped to her waist, the other taking hold of his shaft and guiding it forward.
With a harsh grunt, he thrust deep inside her slick cunt. She cried out, needing this physical connection so bad it hurt. He stroked in and out with a steadily building, relentless rhythm as he added hoarsely, “We’re perfect together.”
She wasn’t about to argue, not while a torrent of sensation was pulling her under and having its wicked way with her. She stared at the reflection of their joined bodies, unable to drag her eyes away.
Her pulse stuttered and soared at the vision of Blaine rocking behind her. She wanted only to drag out the moment, the undeniable thrill of just being with this man. With her breasts swinging and wisps of her hair tumbling free and causing her to look even more wanton than usual, it was a visual turn-on that was as close to decadent as the act itself.
The familiar wonder of an orgasm pressed at her senses. Overwhelming. And yet just out of reach.
Blaine’s brilliant eyes held hers in the mirror as he parted the flesh of her lightly haired cunt with seeking, skillful hands, and deftly massaged the nub of her clit. She sucked in a breath. Then his name spilled from her lips and she shattered hard as pleasure ricocheted through her system and then shot her to the heights and beyond.
Triumph flashed across Blaine’s face a nanosecond before his head fell back, his jaw clenched tight as his seed pulsed deep.
She had no idea how long they stayed joined with her head slumped back on his chest, his hands cupping her pussy as if he didn’t want to lose their intimate connection. But at some stage Blaine disengaged from her wet heat and turned her around to lift her into his arms.
She tucked her head close to all his damp, male heat, inhaling the musky scent of his skin infused with the even muskier scent of sex.
With the music an accompanying throb to her still thundering pulse, he carried her up a flight of stairs and threw open a door. A side lamp cast a dull glow over the huge bedroom. Floor-to-ceiling windows revealed faraway views of the Sydney Harbor Bridge and Opera House illuminated by sparkling lights.
The new crimson comforter on his huge four-poster bed had her smile a little. She understood now his desire for her to wear red. Though he wielded plenty of power in the boardroom and beyond, real passion appeared to be something he relished in his private time.
He laid her on the soft-as-a-cloud bed, his expression tender. “Brandy, I wanted to tell you—”
The insistent chime of his cell phone claimed his attention. His face tightened, lips pressed into a line. Releasing a breath, he pressed a kiss to her brow and murmured, “I better answer, it must be important.” He smiled. “Don’t go anywhere, hmm?”
Before she could reply he’d already swung away from her. She blinked. He’d been about to say something important, she was damn well certain of it. Whether it was something she actually wanted to hear, she mightn’t ever find out now.
Switching the music off with a remote, he retrieved the cell from his bedside table. “Blaine Waymann,” he said tersely.
Heading toward his bedroom balcony, he pushed open the sliding glass door and stepped outside. A cool breeze caressed her body and filtered his voice her way. “Sam, this’d better be goddamned important. When I said I didn’t want any interruptions…”
Brandy frowned as his voice trailed off. She could only assume Sam was his PA or someone who handled his day-to-day business dealings. But why didn’t Blaine want to be disturbed? He was a renowned business shark, an entrepreneur and prolific money maker. Surely one night with her wasn’t more important than the thrill of wheeling and dealing?
She wasn’t sure how long she laid on his bed, mulling over the implications of her thoughts, before Blaine returned, his expression tense. He rubbed the back of his neck, then looked her way. His hand dropped and a smile curved his lips. “How did I ever believe I’d get you out of my system?” he murmured abstractedly. He leaned over the bed, his mouth capturing hers in a gentle kiss. Her breath caught in her throat and yearning stirred once again in her belly before he pulled back and informed her, “That was my secretary, calling to remind me about a charity fundraiser I’m attending tomorrow night. I know it’s short notice, but I’d love you to come with me.”
She frowned. He looked so serious, his eyes searching hers as though he wanted to decipher her every thought. She swallowed past a suddenly dry throat, aware something between them tonight had taken a major leap and there wasn’t a damn thing she could do to stop it. “Tomorrow night?” She shook her head. “Sorry, I can’t.”
Something glinted in his eyes, something dark, dangerous. “Whatever your client is paying, I’ll triple it.”
She pushed herself up onto her elbows. She’d learned long ago not to back down on the important stuff, and this was monumentally important. This was her future. “It’s not about the money.”
He straightened, his face unreadable, though a flash of skepticism lit tellingly in his stare. Then he nodded, striding toward a walk-in closet before returning with a pile of his clothes in hand. He shrugged into a white business shirt. “Stay the night,” he suggested softly. Yet his every word screamed a seriousness that underlined their mutual sexual relationship really had gone beyond the point of a business transaction. “Sleep here. I need to sort out some business merger issues. When I get back we’ll talk.”
And finish what he’d been about to tell her before his cell conversation? She didn’t argue, didn’t agree either. In his mind it was all settled. As a high-powered businessman he was used to being obeyed. But something shriveled inside her even as a great, aching sadness filled her while she watched him dress. He slung a tie around his throat and she stood, with practiced hands slipping it behind his collar before knotting it just how he liked it. She should know. She’d had plenty of practice unknotting his ties.
He lifted a hand, the back of his knuckles brushing across her jaw. A lingering touch. “Thanks, Brandy…Kate.”
He didn’t seem to notice her shocked intake of breath. Didn’t seem to realize his obvious investigating into her past was the final straw.
He retrieved his cell phone before he turned to her and gathered her stiff body to him for a brief, tender kiss. “Sweet dreams, baby, I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
And you won’t find me here.
Hot tears spilled down her face as she listened to the muffled thud of his footsteps retreating downstairs and through the ground floor of his home. The front door slammed, followed soon after by the faint clunk of his driver’s door. Then the Porsche’s engine thrummed to life on the driveway.
Only when the sound of its motor had long dissolved into the distance did she swipe away her tears. She’d never spent the whole night in a client’s bed—because that was all he was, a client—and she wasn’t about to start now.
She was too professional to let business mix with her personal life.
Resolve steeled her spine as she made her way down the staircase and into the entertainment room. Blaine expected her to throw away her whole future on the off chance he’d want her as his mistress for longer than a few months—because that was all it would take for their semi-permanent living arrangement to start to pall, surely?
Better to cut all ties now rather than later, when things could only get more complicated and messy.
The flames in the glass-domed fireplace had died down to little more than glowing embers when she retrieved her dress and slipped it back on, her fingers unsteady as she drew the zipper up.
She glanced at her ripped-beyond-repair thong. She’d have to do without it, no great feat for someone of her profession.
Retrieving her clutch purse and fishing inside it for her cell phone, she pressed speed dial to put a call through to her agency, requesting immediate pickup. Disconnecting, she took one last look around the room, trying to not think too ha
rd about the glorious sex that had occurred here such a short time ago.
Trying hard to not think about the man she couldn’t see anymore.
Breath shuddered from her lungs. Damn. How quickly things could change.
She dropped the cell back into her purse about the same time she saw the square foils peeking out at her. She put a hand to her mouth. For the first time since she’d become a call girl, she hadn’t given a thought to using a condom.
Her mouth pulled tight. Of course, being on the Pill meant pregnancy was no cause for concern. But disease was always a risk, always a factor, no matter that she now only kept a handful of select clients.
Fool!
Her heart twisted, leaving a sick feeling in her belly. It was yet another reason she had to put a stop to seeing Blaine. No amount of money and amazing sex was worth sacrificing everything she’d worked so damn hard for.
It really was time to leave. Permanently.
* * * * *
Kate left the gym with sweat still hovering on her brow and every muscle screaming abuse. She’d never been one to do things by halves, but she’d pushed herself hard today, harder than ever before.
She had to be in tip-top shape. Stamina and an amazing body were prerequisites if she wanted to continue in her line of work. And then when the time came for her to leave, she’d retire a wealthy, fit and still-young woman with money invested in various nest eggs. She’d be self-sufficient for the rest of her years.
She released a sigh. Shame the workout hadn’t stopped thoughts of Blaine from filling her head. Shame the future looked bleak knowing Blaine wouldn’t be in it.
She’d half expected him to show up at her apartment that morning—not that she’d ever told him the address—but since he’d learned her name, it stood to reason he would also know where she lived. She frowned. As a call girl her privacy was nonnegotiable, to be guarded at all costs.
All her clients knew and respected it.
Until now.
So why had something inside her shriveled a little when Blaine hadn’t shown? When he hadn’t even rung the agency to leave her a message?
Hell, he probably had her cell phone number anyway. He would have rung her direct.
She started when her cell abruptly chimed. Fishing through her gym bag, she dug it out. Keen disappointment bit deep at seeing the ID on her cell. Maisey, the woman who ran the agency with an iron fist.
“Brandy,” she answered, deliberately cycling her real name to the back of her mind.
Maisey’s voice cut straight to the chase. “You’ve had a cancellation.”
Her shock was less at Maisey’s faintly accusatory tone and a whole lot more by the fact someone had cancelled. She was booked solid for at least three months in advance and had never once had someone rescind on their “date”.
“Who?” she asked carefully, sounding normal in every way, if only she wasn’t shrinking inside until she was again that little girl whom no one loved.
“Smitherson.”
Mackenzie Smitherson. Her mind ticked over, fighting off the feelings of inadequacy that belonged right back in her past. She cleared her throat. “He’s booked for tonight. Is he sick?”
Maisey huffed out a breath. “Sounded pissed as hell, but healthy as a horse.”
What the hell?
Aside from Blaine, Mackenzie was her best customer, a regular client who treated her well and paid even better.
She nodded absently, surprised to find a certain kind of relief followed on the heels of rejection knowing she’d be alone tonight to lick her wounds. And quietly yearn for Blaine.
“Never mind though,” Maisey added into the silence, her voice slightly appeased, “I’ve managed to rebook you with another regular.”
Her heart sank. “Actually I’d prefer not to—”
Maisey’s voice turned cajoling. “It’s triple the going rate.”
Blaine. It had to be. Odd the quickening of her pulse, the pull of her belly and the shortness of her breath that had zilch to do with her exercise regime and all to do with her pathetic needs. She cleared her throat, needing verification. “Who?”
“Waymann.” Maisey said his name meaningfully and Brandy heard something in the other woman’s tone that hinted she could do far worse.
Well, duh. If she wasn’t in the escort business she would have slept with Blaine for free—not that she’d have met him anyway unless she’d somehow managed to claw her way up into the high social echelons he kept.
Silence breached the conversation for a moment as Brandy sifted through her thoughts and temptation suckered her in. Tonight could be her final hurrah, the grand finale before she said goodbye to him one last time.
She took a deep breath. “Okay.”
“He’ll be expecting you. Six p.m. sharp,” Maisey said, voice brisk and businesslike again. “I’ll send you the car. Oh and one more thing. He said to dress elegantly.”
As the connection abruptly cut, Kate clutched the cell as if it was a lifeline. It wasn’t. An odd sense of knowing came over her. Blaine had orchestrated the whole thing, had paid Mackenzie off to have her all to himself.
A surge of irrational pleasure was thrust aside to make way for an unhealthy dose of resentment.
Fuck.
Her whole career could be at stake, thanks to Blaine’s obsessive nature.
It appeared he’d really meant it when he’d told her she’d pay.
She tossed her cell phone back into her bag before she lifted her chin and walked the ten minutes to her chic, inner-city apartment. If Blaine wanted her that badly tonight, then so be it.
But this would definitely be their last time together.
Chapter Three
It felt strange stepping out of the car to a blaze of outer lights, as though Blaine wanted to proclaim to the world of her arrival.
So much for discretion.
Nerves knotted in her belly at the coming confrontation.
At the night ahead.
At its ending…
Her hand tightened on her fire-red clutch purse, the same color as her filmy halter-neck dress that flared out from her waist. She shivered. She couldn’t help but recognize that tonight would be memorable…life changing. And not in a good way.
Her heels clacked on the granite path as she approached the same red door as the night before. Except this time her smile was forced and her belly churned with trepidation, not excitement. Aside from physical release, tonight there was little to look forward to.
Amazing the difference twenty-four hours could make.
Blaine swung open the door before she’d reached it. She swallowed, her heart fluttering. He looked divine, his fitted tux showcasing his height, his lean but muscled breadth.
“Hi,” she said huskily, self-conscious somehow at his lingering appraisal.
“Stunning,” he murmured in return.
For one dizzying moment she wondered if perhaps he’d looked beyond her outer layer to the beauty within. But then he claimed her mouth with his own in a slow, leisurely exploration of lips and tongue and the idea melted away.
No. Successful men like Blaine didn’t care so much for inner beauty, did they? Her own father had been proof of that.
She stiffened and pulled away first. Damn it. Some memories should never be taken out of the closet. And she had to stop judging every man by her father’s behavior. Blaine was nothing like him. She took a step back, her top teeth worrying into her bottom lip. “Someone might see us.”
Blaine’s eyes blazed, passionate and possessive. “Let them.”
When he pulled her back the next time, his mouth as it claimed hers once again alternated between soft and coaxing, then hard and demanding. She sighed into his mouth, drowning in a sea of sensation. Thoughts no longer entered her consciousness. Nothing penetrated the world he took her to except just how badly she wanted him.
All of him.
Minutes later they broke apart, his face as he looked down at her stamped with a fierce inte
nsity that bordered on alarming. He appeared every inch the big bad wolf who wanted to eat her. Then he smiled and stepped away. She sucked in an unsteady breath, her heartbeat stabilizing and her renewed anxiety lifting.
His hard-edged exterior too often hid the adoring, romantic man she’d seen more and more often of late. Yet despite her professional side screaming that things were becoming way too personal and way too intense, she’d been glad of the change and had basked in his attention.
Had. Past tense.
“We have a few minutes,” he said smoothly. “Would you care for a drink?”
She nodded, forcing a smile. “I’d love one.”
Two snifters of brandy were already poured and waiting on the bar in his entertainment room. He handed one to her and she cupped it in the palm of her hand, swirling the liquid around and around and watching the firelight refracted in its depths.
Blaine raised his drink in a toast, a slightly crooked smile curling his lips. “To us.”
She raised hers too, a little more awkwardly and feeling ill-at-ease, knowing this would be their last night together with no more “us” in the equation. Despite herself, the thought left her sick at heart.
Blaine’s eyes captured hers as he added, “May there be many more nights the same as this one.”
That’s one wish that won’t be coming true.
She tossed back her drink, needing its fortification. The brandy burned all the way down her throat, creating a pleasant warmth in her belly and a surge of affirmation in her breast. She returned her empty glass onto the bar. “So it’s party before pleasure tonight?”
Placing his glass beside hers, he clasped her hips and tugged her close. “Pleasure first,” he corrected softly, holding her stare.
Her breath came out in a surprised hiss when he spun her around to face the mirror, her spine pressed flush against his chest, his flat belly and the thick wedge of his arousal.
Her face was already flushed with passion, the tight upsweep of her strawberry-blonde hair appearing about ready to tumble past her shoulders in utter abandonment and disarray. Not unlike her emotions.