by Leslie Kelly
She licked her lips. Nodded. “I do.”
It was true. Damien had taken control many times since they’d met, and he’d never hurt her, never done a thing she hadn’t desperately wanted him to do. Now, well, she wasn’t entirely sure what she desperately wanted him to do.
Other than...everything.
Maybe that was why, when they’d stopped at a store yesterday, she’d grabbed condoms and lube, which right now rested inside the pocket of the robe on the floor.
Everything.
No more words passed between them. Damien began to focus solely on exploring her body. She wasn’t embarrassed to stand completely naked directly in front of a floor-to-ceiling window. The penthouse faced the river; anybody on the other side of it would have to have binoculars to see her.
Even if they didn’t have complete privacy, though, she wouldn’t care. Not when his mouth was so warm and wet, when his hands were so strong yet subtle—his fingertips brushing against her collarbone, his other hand gliding down her spine. She didn’t know where he would touch her next, or what he would do, and could only stand there, staring at all that clear blue sky, as storms—thunder, lightning, a volcanic eruption—built within her.
He reached around to cup her breast, his thumb teasing the tip into a hot point of sensation. She arched into his hand, wanting intensity, not tenderness. More pressure, more ache, more need, more satisfaction. All of it. They’d made love in almost every conceivable way, but still his touch excited her as nothing in her life ever had, and now, with that sexily worded threat/promise, she wanted to experience everything it was possible to experience as a lover. Even pain.
“More?” he asked, reading her body’s response.
“More,” she whimpered as his fingers encircled her nipple in a gentle but firm grasp. His gentle stroke became the tiniest pinch, and she gasped at the swift combination of a hint of discomfort and a gush of pleasure.
“You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen,” he murmured as he kissed his way down her body. “I want to memorize you.”
“I think you already have.”
“No. It’s going to take more effort to really know you the way I want to. A whole lot more.”
He seemed ready to put in that effort. Viv let out a gasp when he slowly dropped to his knees, his tongue gliding down the small of her back. He continued to move his mouth—low, hot, wicked—over her most secret places.
She didn’t protest. In fact, when he gently nudged his tongue between her cheeks, she leaned forward, understanding what he wanted. And then his tongue was there, rimming her, testing her resolve, seeing just how far she really wanted to go.
“Yes,” she hissed, sensation surging through her.
It was bold, wicked, dangerous. But oh, how she loved it.
Damien groaned when she urged him on, reaching up to grip her ass in both hands. He squeezed, kneaded, and she suddenly wondered what it would be like to feel the sting of a slap there. They were treading onto new, bold paths, going places she’d never been—had never wanted to go with anyone else. She suddenly understood why pleasure and pain could so easily coexist: it wasn’t just the physical sensations, but the mental ones. The wild imaginings in her brain were turning her on almost as much as his seductive hands and tongue. She wanted the new, the shocking, the forbidden. Wanted it all. With him.
When he moved his mouth farther down, so he could dip his tongue into the wetness of her vagina, she cried out. She craved him, needed him so much. She wasn’t sure she could stand much more pleasure until he showed her she could.
When he gently slid a wet finger against her puckered rear, she didn’t resist at all, inviting him to explore, to invade.
He did, dipping into her, charting new, previously unclaimed territory.
“Oh, Damien,” she moaned, arching into his hand, telling him yes, yes.
Saying nothing, Damien turned around to sit underneath her, moving between her parted legs. The angle gave him access to her clit, which he covered with his warm tongue while his finger played wicked magic in her bottom.
Her climax didn’t rise slowly or come on in waves. It crashed into her hard, violently, shattering her so she had to clench one fist and shove it in her mouth to stop herself from screaming. Her muscles didn’t so much tremble as tremor, an earthquake pounding every inch of her, inside and out.
Damien didn’t stop. He kept loving her with his mouth and his hands, and she realized the orgasm hadn’t taken the pressure off entirely. No. It quickly began to build again, making her greedy, mindless.
“More,” she cried, suddenly wanting to scratch and claw and claim. “Take me now, Damien, please.”
“My pleasure.”
He began to move up, but she stopped him, making a quick, heart-stopping decision. “Wait. My robe. In the pocket.”
He didn’t ask questions, merely did what she suggested, checking the robe. With two items in his hand, he rose in front of her, between her and the glass. He kissed his way up her body, sucking one nipple, pinching the other, biting her throat, his mood as edgy and dangerous as hers. Then he was kissing her, his tongue plunging deep in her mouth, as it had into her core.
“You’re so wet and hot. This won’t be required,” he mumbled against her lips, lifting the lube. Then he waved the condom. “And we’ve done okay without these.”
“You’re wrong. We do need them,” she said, gripping two fistfuls of his hair. She ground against him, telling him this wasn’t normal desire, this was raging lust. She wanted more wickedness, more naughty pleasure than anyone had ever given her. And she wanted it from him. Now.
“Wait.” He looked down into her face, his eyes questioning.
Staring unflinchingly into his eyes, Viv smiled in challenge, silently explaining to him exactly what she wanted him to do to her.
“You want...”
“Yes.”
“Are you sure?”
She yanked him close and pressed a hot, openmouthed kiss on him, plunging her tongue into his mouth as he had hers. Then she whispered, “Yes, I’m sure. Take me. Do it. I want it now, right here.”
He didn’t protest further, his jaw tightening, the cords of muscle on his shoulders and neck flexing. After one more wet kiss, he moved behind her. He gently pushed her so she was half-bent at the waist, and then gripped her hips.
He was big, so big. A tremor of nervousness attacked her.
He noticed immediately. “Are you all right?”
“Just...slowly.”
She heard a crunch of foil, then felt his fingers, slick with lube, readying her. All those wild sensations she’d experienced a few minutes ago rushed back, and she knew she was, indeed, ready. Ready to be wild, wicked, bad to the bone. But only because she trusted him completely and because she was sure he would never judge her for that wickedness.
Because he was just as wicked as her.
“God, Viv,” he groaned as he gently eased his way between her cheeks, his hands tight on her hips, his cock nudging into her the tiniest bit.
She breathed slowly, deeply, trying to relax, torn between embarrassment, nervousness and utter mindless want.
The want won. The tension was driving her mad, his patience just making her impatient. She pushed toward him, inviting him to take more. And so he did, moving into her ever so slowly, creating all kinds of sensations, not one of which made her inclined to change her mind.
“Tell me when to stop,” he demanded, the words coming out between harsh, choppy breaths.
“Don’t stop,” she demanded, battered by emotions and physical sensations. He was being so careful, so tender, but he felt so good inside her.
This moment was one she would never forget. She’d finally broken out of the shell into which she’d confined herself, taken her identity back, become the fully r
ealized, sexual being she’d always been meant to be.
And he’d brought her here. With his kiss and his touch, his charm and his patience, his mouth, his hands, his cock, his lips, his amazing laugh, his dark, dreamy eyes.
Everything about him had seduced her to this point of utter freedom. She’d given up all her reservations, every inhibition...and she didn’t regret one damn moment of it.
* * *
ALTHOUGH DAMIEN WANTED her to stay with him, to sleep in his arms every night while he was in town, Viv had insisted on going home Sunday evening. And while she’d met him for dinner—and more amazing sex—just about every day after work, she never spent the night. She seemed determined to keep their personal relationship separate from their work one. In fact, she wouldn’t even let him mention the team, beyond informing him at dinner every night that she’d had a fine day at the office. She would then change the subject.
Although they never discussed it, he was aware there was another reason she wouldn’t let him see her at the office. They were walking a fine line, that whole fraternization thing looming large in his mind. He could handle Sam if the attorney made an issue of it. But as a subordinate, Viv couldn’t. Nor did he want her to have to explain that she was dating the team’s owner to anyone else.
“Dating,” he muttered, laughing under his breath at the word. He hadn’t dated in forever. And yet that’s what it felt like they were doing. He would pick her up at her place, they’d go out for dinner or, even one night, a sappy movie that he hated and she adored. There would sometimes be a long drive in the limo afterward, where they made slow, seductive love. Other nights it was right back to his suite, or her place, for hotter, louder sex.
They’d done things he’d only ever fantasized about. He’d made good on his threat to tie her up...and then had let her repay the favor.
Christ, what a night that had been.
What a week, really. The best one of his life. Worth every long phone call or video conference he’d had to make to keep up with work, and every snarky email he’d ignored from his family about why he was staying away for so long.
“What did you say?” she asked, eyeing him from the other side of the elevator. He was riding with her up to her apartment, but, as if not trusting him not to seduce her during the trip—as he usually did when they were in the elevators at the Black Star—she’d edged to the far corner and put up a hand to stop him when he’d tried to join her there.
“Just thinking.”
“About?”
“About the fact that we’re dating.”
She sucked in a tiny gasp, her eyes widening, as if she hadn’t really considered that, either. “Are we?”
“I think so. I’m picking up you at your door, and escorting you back to it.”
She snickered. “Uh, well, until today, you haven’t been stopping at the door, buddy. In fact, you haven’t been stopping until you’re through my bedroom door and naked in my bed.”
“Are you complaining?”
“If I ever do, you’d better stick a thermometer in me and run a CAT scan, because I’m obviously sick in the head.”
He slid an arm around her waist. “It’s all right with you? I mean, I know you didn’t want to have to deal with me after that first night.”
She gazed up at him, her blue eyes bright, her lips soft and moist, and slowly smiled. “It’s fine with me, Damien,” she whispered. “In fact, I’ve come to enjoy having you around.”
He brushed a kiss across her lips, murmuring, “Ditto.”
They reached her floor and stepped off the elevator. Viv lived in a newer Arlington high-rise that catered to young city professionals. Impersonal enough that he’d never seen the same neighbor, but still warmer and cozier than the rather cold hotel room he’d been living in for weeks.
That wasn’t really a huge change for him. He was used to living in hotel rooms, since he tried to stay on the road as much as possible. Running a hotel chain did have its perks. But those perks did not include homey touches like family photos on the wall—there were tons of Viv’s family on her walls, especially all those big, athletic brothers. There was a worn rocking chair that she said her parents had given her, one used to rock her and her siblings as babies. On it was draped a tenderly crafted afghan, made for Viv by her late grandmother, and which he suspected was one of her favorite possessions.
Her furniture was inexpensive, but comfortable, the TV an old console with a grainy picture, the dishes colorful but mismatched. Everything about the place screamed home and, truthfully, he’d come to prefer being here with her, rather than at the penthouse. And it was definitely better than the ice castle that had replaced his father’s once warm home on a hot, sunny, Florida beach.
Inside, just to prove her wrong about what she’d said in the elevator, he purposely did not head for the bedroom. Instead, he watched as Viv went into the kitchen and put the foam container full of her leftover dinner in the fridge. She always got to-go boxes from the restaurants they frequented, taking the leftovers for lunch the next day. He’d laughed when she’d admitted it was because she didn’t trust him enough to leave the building to go out and get food, for fear he’d be lying in wait to seduce her to the hotel.
“I’m going to go change,” she said, when she returned, heading past him toward her room.
“Okay.” He noted that she didn’t invite him to come along, and wondered at her mood. She’d been quiet throughout dinner, not her usual vivacious self. He hoped nothing had happened at work today, but considering they weren’t allowed to talk about it, he hadn’t asked.
Tossing his jacket aside, he went into the bathroom to splash cold water on his face—something to cool himself down, since he’d gotten the unvoiced message that she didn’t want to be jumped on right this minute. When he came out of the bathroom, he heard a popping sound and smelled an unmistakable scent wafting from the kitchen, and his impressions were confirmed.
Viv made it even more obvious when she walked into the room, carrying the large, steaming bowl of popcorn. She’d changed out of her work clothes and was now wearing a baggy pair of sweatpants and a long T-shirt. She had pulled her hair from its secure bun, leaving it to hang in a long ponytail down her back. While any other woman might merely have looked cute, Viv couldn’t help but be as sexy as hell no matter what she wore. The sweatpants clung to that pert butt, and the long hair bounced with each move.
Down, boy, he reminded himself. He only hoped she would be in the mood later, because, just eyeing her had him ready to cover her with that popcorn and eat it off her.
“Do you like popcorn?”
“I could be persuaded to sample some,” he murmured.
“Cool,” she said, popping a handful into her mouth. As she munched, she said, “I thought we’d have a movie night.”
He lifted a brow. “Movie, huh? Please say it’s going to be a winner like the one we watched on Tuesday. I just can’t get enough of cancer-stricken women married to scumbags.”
Viv threw a piece of popcorn at his chest, and then sat down beside him on the couch. “I have a lot of DVDs. You pick.”
“Then I’ll pick something we can watch in bed,” he said, leaning over to nibble her ear. Having witnessed what the woman could do for a pair of sweatpants, he couldn’t not try. Hell, the very fact that he was a man made it impossible. “Have anything X-rated in that collection of yours?”
She quirked a half smile. “Maybe. But not tonight.”
“Okay. We don’t have to watch a movie, I’m happy to just lie in your bed and eat...popcorn.”
Sighing heavily, she shook her head. “No can do.”
“You have a rule against eating in bed? You haven’t mentioned that one before.”
“It’s a new rule. Starting now,” she admitted, not sounding happy about it.
“Why?”
/>
“I’m not feeling so well.”
He reached up and put a hand on her forehead. “No temperature. Should I go get the CAT scan machine?”
“It’s not that kind of unwell.”
Beginning to worry, he asked, “You’re serious?”
“Yeah.”
“What’s wrong? Was it something you ate at dinner?”
She shot him a glare. “No. I’m just...not doing great. It’s no big deal.”
“Viv, if you’re sick, we should get you to the doctor.”
Sinking into the far corner of the couch, she tossed a pillow at his head. “God, you’re clueless. My brothers would have recognized where this was going the minute I came out here with the popcorn.”
He still didn’t understand what she was driving at.
“I thought you had sisters,” she said.
“I do.”
“Did none of them ever occasionally get cranky, wear baggy clothes and eat junk food? At certain times of the month?”
It sank in at last. Regretting his own stupidity, he mumbled, “Oh.”
“Yeah. Oh.” She wrapped her arms around herself, her spine stiffening. “So, as you can imagine, the playground is closed for a few nights. Sorry about that.”
“It’s okay.” Moving closer on the couch, he put an arm around her and tugged her close. “Need a foot rub or anything?”
She gaped at him. “Seriously?”
Her astonishment amused him. Had she expected him to whine, to throw a fit because biology said he couldn’t have what he wanted for a change? Not that he wouldn’t mind telling biology to go screw itself, but Viv didn’t seem comfortable with the idea, at least not on day one. “Seriously.”
“I—I waas afraid...”
“That I’d be an asshole about it?”
“Well, no, not that. Just figured maybe you’d be asking for some alternate compensation.”
“Tit for tat? Jeez, you think I can’t go a night without sex? That I’d demand a blow job or something?”
“Well, we’ve established that we’re both pretty adept at the or something.”