by BETH KERY
The crowd returned to their conversation, but the energy level of the room had somehow amplified with Noble’s arrival. Odd that such a distinctive, sophisticated man would become an icon for a tech-savvy, T-shirt-wearing generation. He looked to be thirtyish. She’d read Noble had earned his first billion with his breakthrough social-media company years ago, before he’d put it up for a public offering, made thirteen billion more, then promptly started another hugely successful Internet retail business.
Everything he touched turned to gold, apparently. Why? Because he was Ian Noble. He could do anything he damn well pleased. Francesca’s mouth curved in amusement at the thought. It somehow helped to think he was arrogant and unlikeable. Yes, he was her benefactor, but like artists throughout history, Francesca had a healthy dose of distrust for the patron shelling out the money. Sadly, all starving artists needed their Ian Nobles.
“I’ll just go and tell him you’re here. As I’ve mentioned, he was quite taken with your painting. He chose it hands down over the two other finalists,” Lin said, referring to the competition Francesca had won. The winner would be granted the prestigious commission to create the centerpiece painting for the grand lobby of Noble’s new Chicago skyscraper, which they were in. The cocktail reception in Francesca’s honor was being held in a restaurant called Fusion, a trendy, pricey restaurant located inside Noble’s high-rise. Most importantly to Francesca, she would be awarded a hundred thousand dollars, something she could sorely use as a struggling master of fine arts graduate student.
Lin magically materialized a young African-American woman named Zoe Charon to converse with Francesca in her absence.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Zoe said, flashing an orthodontist’s dream smile as she shook Francesca’s hand. “And congratulations on your commission. Just think: I’ll be looking at your painting every time I walk into work.”
Francesca suffered an increasingly familiar pang of discomfort over her clothing in comparison to Zoe’s suit. Lin, Zoe, and just about every person at the reception in her honor were appareled in the height of sophisticated, sleek fashion. How was she to know that boho chic wouldn’t work at a Noble cocktail party? How was she to know that her brand of boho chic wasn’t really chic at all?
She learned Zoe was an assistant manager for Noble Enterprises, in a department called Imagetronics. What the hell was that? Francesca wondered distractedly as she nodded in polite interest, her gaze flickering again toward the front of the restaurant.
Noble’s mouth softened slightly when Lin reached him and spoke. A few seconds later, a detached, bored expression settled on his features. He shook his head once and glanced at his watch. Clearly Noble didn’t want to go through the ritual of meeting one of the many recipients of his philanthropic efforts any more than Francesca wanted to meet him. This cocktail party in her honor had been one of the onerous activities that accompanied the winning of the commission.
She turned to Zoe and grinned broadly, determined to enjoy herself now that she’d confirmed her anxiety about meeting Noble had been a waste of time.
“So what’s the deal with Ian Noble?”
Zoe started at her bald question and glanced toward the front of the bar where Noble stood.
“The deal? He’s a god, in a word.”
Francesca smirked. “Not much for understatement, are you?”
Zoe broke into laughter. Francesca joined her. For a moment they were just two young women giggling over the most handsome man at the party. Which Ian Noble was, Francesca conceded. Forget the party. He was the most arresting man she’d ever seen in her life.
Her laughter ceased when she noticed Zoe’s expression. She turned. Noble’s gaze was directly on her. A hot, heavy sensation expanded in her belly. She didn’t have time to draw breath before he was stalking across the room toward her, leaving a surprised-looking Lin in his wake.
Francesca experienced a ridiculous urge to run.
“Oh . . . he’s headed this way . . . Lin must have told him who you were,” Zoe said, sounding as bewildered and caught off guard as Francesca felt. Zoe was more practiced in the art of social elegance than Francesca, however. By the time Noble reached them, all traces of the giggling girl were gone and in its place stood a contained, beautiful woman.
“Mr. Noble, good evening.”
His eyes were a piercing cobalt blue. They flicked off Francesca for a split second. She managed to suck some air into her lungs during the reprieve.
“Zoe, isn’t it?” he asked.
Zoe couldn’t hide her pleasure at the fact that Noble had known her name. “Yes, sir. I work in Imagetronics. May I introduce Francesca Arno, the artist you chose as the winner in the Far Sight Competition.”
He took her hand. “It’s a pleasure, Ms. Arno.”
Francesca just nodded. She couldn’t speak. Her brain was temporarily overloaded by the image of him, the warmth of his encompassing hand, the sound of his low, British-accented voice. His skin was pale next to his dark, stylishly coiffed, short hair and gray suit. Dark Angel. The words flew into her brain, unbidden.
“I can’t tell you how impressed I am with your work,” he said. No smile. No softness in his tone, even if there was a sharp curiosity in his stare.
She swallowed uneasily. “Thank you.” He released her hand slowly, causing his skin to slide against hers. A horrible moment of silence passed as he just looked at her. She gathered herself and straightened her spine.
“I’m glad to have this opportunity to thank you in person for awarding me the commission. It means more to me than I can convey.” She said the rehearsed words in a pressured fashion.
He gave an almost imperceptible shrug and waved his hand negligently. “You earned it.” He held her stare. “Or at least you will.”
* * *
Click here for more books by Beth Kery
Beth Kery lives in Chicago where she juggles the demands of her career, her love of the city and the arts, and a busy family life. Her writing today reflects her passion for all of the above. She is the New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of Because You Are Mine. Find out more about Beth and her books at BethKery.com or Facebook.com/Beth.Kery.
When I’m With You
PART I: WHEN WE TOUCH
Because You Are Mine
PART I: BECAUSE YOU TEMPT ME
PART II: BECAUSE I COULD NOT RESIST
PART III: BECAUSE YOU HAUNT ME
PART IV: BECAUSE YOU MUST LEARN
PART V: BECAUSE I SAID SO
PART VI: BECAUSE YOU TORMENT ME
PART VII: BECAUSE I NEED TO
PART VIII: BECAUSE I AM YOURS
Berkley Sensation titles by Beth Kery
WICKED BURN
DARING TIME
Berkley Heat titles by Beth Kery
SWEET RESTRAINT
PARADISE RULES
RELEASE
EXPLOSIVE
One Night of Passion series
ADDICTED TO YOU (WRITING AS BETHANY KANE)
EXPOSED TO YOU
One Night of Passion Specials
BOUND TO YOU
CAPTURED BY YOU
WHEN I’M WITH YOU
PART TWO
WHEN YOU DEFY ME
Beth Kery
When You Defy Me Copyright © 2013 by Beth Kery
The right of Beth Kery to be identified as the Author of the Work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
Published by arrangement with The Berkley Publishing Group, a member of Penguin Group (USA), Inc.
First published in this Ebook edition by Headline Publishing Group in 2013
Apart from any use permitted under UK copyright law, this publication may only be reproduced, stored, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means, with prior permission in writing of the publishers or, in the case of reprographic production, in accordance with the terms of licences issued by the Copyright Licensing Agency.
All characters in t
his publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Cataloguing in Publication Data is available from the British Library
eISBN 978 1 4722 0410 3
HEADLINE PUBLISHING GROUP
An Hachette UK Company
338 Euston Road
London NW1 3BH
www.headline.co.uk
www.hachette.co.uk
Contents
Title Page
Copyright
About the Author
Also by Beth Kery
About the Book
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
When You Tease Me
Because You Are Mine. . .
Wicked Burn
All it takes is. . . One Night of Passion. . .
Beth Kery lives in Chicago where she juggles the demands of her career, her love of the city and the arts, and a busy family life. Her writing today reflects her passion for all of the above.
By Beth Kery
Because You Are Mine
Wicked Burn
Daring Time
Sweet Restraint
Paradise Rules
Release
Explosive
One Night of Passion series
*Addicted To You
*Bound To You (e-novella)
Captured By You (e-novella)
Exposed By You
*previously published under the pseudonym Bethany Kane
New York Times bestselling author Beth Kery’s addictive new novel continues in this second part as Lucien and Elise are bound together by a dangerous desire – and the secret they share.
Elise’s teasing and impulsiveness have landed her back at the erotic mercy of Lucien, who is determined to teach her discipline – even if all he wants to do is to give in to the beast within and consume her completely. When he discovers her in a dangerous situation that could have been avoided, he punishes her – and once again tests the limits of his own control. By dominating her, he hopes to teach her the meaning of self-control through total submission. But even though he sets strict rules on himself, he still isn’t entirely prepared for feeling Elise shudder in surrender in his arms.
Lucien challenges her, excites her. . .bewilders her to the point of distraction. Does he want her, or doesn’t he? Elise is afraid to reveal to him just how vulnerable – just how naïve she is when it comes to sexual games. None of her typical wiles work on him. And what brought Lucien to Chicago with a new name and new identity? What does it have to do with his industrialist father’s disgraceful downfall? Who is Ian Noble, the provocative new stranger in Lucien’s shadow? And why has Lucien taken to following him in the night? For Elise the answers will come soon enough. She has other things to worry about now, such as Lucien’s observance of her foolish behavior. . .and the inevitable consequence to come.
More to come. Don’t miss When I’m With You, Part III, available 19th March
Chapter Three
His hand struck the lower curve of her ass cheeks, causing a burst of sensation.
“Ouch.”
“Je suis désolé,” she heard Lucien apologize huskily behind her. He touched her buttocks, his palm warmed from her spankings. Her breath hitched. “It will take me a time or two to learn what you can tolerate . . . what you need.”
Her clenched eyelids sprang open. “What I need is for you to stop torturing me this way.”
His hand disappeared. Smack.
“Wrong. You need a consequence for your actions.”
The nerves on the surface of her bottom stung and burned. There was an inexplicable link between those nerves and her sizzling clit. She bit her lip, experiencing an almost overwhelming desire to touch herself . . . to staunch the ache growing between her thighs.
“Brace yourself,” Lucien warned, his voice a low, sexual purr that washed over her exposed, flaming ass and tickled at her damp pussy. She firmed her hold, following his order instinctively, and clenched her teeth. His hand landed again and again, the brisk cracking sound of skin against skin creating a strangely erotic contrast to the rich yet highly controlled notes of the symphonic music filling her ears.
The tail of her smock flipped down over a buttock. She inhaled shakily when he paused and took a moment to carefully replace the edge of her smock at her waist, once again revealing her ass. She could just imagine how pink it must look to him. The breath burned in her lungs when he spread his hand over the crack between her buttocks, his fingers spread, his fingertips below his palm.
“So beautiful,” he murmured.
She whimpered softly at the hint of awe in his tone. He was so large that he encompassed her. He rubbed, and her vagina clenched tight. She moaned feverishly, wanting . . . needing his touch on her sex. He was only inches away from her pussy. She gyrated her hips slightly, rubbing him back in an open invitation.
Smack. She gasped at the unexpected, sharp pain of his hand cracking against her ass.
“Damn it,” she seethed.
“You’re doing it again,” he said, a thread of amusement in his hard voice.
“What?”
“Trying to grab for the reins.”
“Ouch . . . ooh . . . merde,” she mumbled incoherently when he spanked her.
“Every time you attempt to seduce me, I’ll spank you an extra time. Submit, ma chère. Let go. I’m taking control for the time being.”
A tear leaked down her cheek, but she remained determinedly still. For a few seconds, she and Lucien were as one. She feared the flex of Lucien’s muscle, the swing of his arm, but she also anticipated it, sensed it perfectly . . . wanted and needed it. There, for a few seconds, she understood precisely what Lucien had meant.
Discipline. Need.
“Two more,” she heard him growl.
She twisted her chin and saw his arm stretched back. He looked awesome in that moment, his long legs spread slightly, nostrils flared, eyes blazing, muscles coiled and tense. He paused with his hand back and met her stare. It happened so quickly that later she wondered if she’d imagined it. He cupped her hip with his free hand and pressed her burning ass to his crotch, grinding her against rock-hard thighs and cock.
Her eyes sprang wide when she fully absorbed his dimensions . . . his heat. Liquid surged at her core, an answer to his primal call. Abruptly, he was gone.
“Damn those eyes,” he muttered thickly. “Look at that desk or I swear you won’t sit comfortably for a week.”
She turned, staring sightlessly at the leather blotter on his desk, panting shallowly as he cracked off the last two strokes.
Through the swelling sounds of the symphony and her own pounding heart, she heard the rough, soughing sound of Lucien’s breath behind her. She didn’t move.
What would he do now? Her pussy was hot and wet between her thighs. She experienced his arousal behind her like a distant but powerful fire, his heat seeming to emanate against her naked ass, teasing her sex. Surely he wouldn’t walk away? Perhaps he’d take her from behind? The thought panicked and excited her. She hadn’t prepared for this. She started to raise herself in order to touch him . . . in order to pleasure him . . . to satisfy him . . .
. . . in order to take control of this volatile situation.
That she could handle. He’d said they wouldn’t have sex, but that was before they’d generated all this heat. She stood and turned, gratified to see the fixed, rigid expression on his face as he stared at her ass. He grabbed her wrist lightning quick when she reached for his pants. Suddenly, she was spinning and her back was pressed tightly to his front, her bottom pressed against his hard thighs, her lower back against the flagrant fullness of his sex. She gasped when he gathered her other wrist and restrained both of her arms in his hand. He leaned down, cupping her body to his long, hard length.
“It aroused you. Didn’t it?”
A shudder of excitement went through her at the sound of his delicious voice in her ear.
“I . . . I ha
ted it,” she lied, fighting for the upper hand even though she knew she was losing . . . even though she increasingly didn’t know what losing or winning meant when it came to Lucien. Her gasp turned into a moan of disbelieving arousal when he abruptly plunged a long finger between her labia and rubbed.
“Very warm. Very wet,” he groaned near her ear, increasing her shudders of pleasure. “I’m going to cure you of this tendency for lying. I felt you submit there at the end, even if you are denying it now, and you were very brave in accepting your spanking. Here is your reward.”
Her head fell back against his breastbone. It felt divine, the friction from his rubbing finger optimal. Her clit began to sizzle beneath his touch. Her hips ground against the pressure. He pressed her tighter against him, so that she could feel his cock throbbing against her lower back and hip. He’d been right about how wet she was—she could tell by the easy slide of his finger. She could even hear him moving in the lubricated flesh. How humiliating.
How exciting.
She subtly gyrated against him, growing wild with mounting arousal, her teeth clenched tight. She couldn’t seem to stop it. He pleasured her more knowledgeably than she pleasured herself, something about his restrained strength and obvious skill creating a riot of bliss in her flesh. Her entire body grew rigid, and her nipples tightened almost painfully, making her wish he’d touch them, pinch them to ease the sharp pressure.
“Damn you,” she muttered brokenly.
“Come,” he demanded. The music swelled in her ears, cresting.
She clamped her eyelids shut and shook in delicious release.
“That’s right,” she heard him say, his voice seemingly both far away and so close it was like he was inside her head. “One day you’re going to come like that while I’m buried in you, and it’s going to feel so incredibly good.”
His hand continued to work between her thighs, stimulating her until she sagged against him, panting. Her eyelids opened sluggishly a moment later when she felt his hand slow and stop.