I know how wet I am. I can feel the slick heat between my spread legs, feel his warm eyes drinking me in. I feel his hunger grow as he just looks at me. My heart is racing, excited at being on display, at being so bold. “You little minx,” he whispers, leaning quickly forward, anchoring my legs open with a strong push of his hands. He dips his head between my legs and draws a long breath, pulling ragged air over my wet lips. Arching my back, I rest my hands against the cool glass of his desk and surrender my body to his will. His fingers split me open while the tip of his tongue dances across my clit and a low moan escapes my throat. He reaches up and covers my mouth with his free hand, looking me dead in the eye, warning me to stay quiet. My pulse takes off like a rocket as he grips my face and sucks my throbbing clit between his teeth. I scream into his palm as he squeezes me that much harder while the relentless assault of his mouth has me shaking and ready to explode. He pushes his tongue inside as I come undone and he laps every last drop of his prize from my body, his hand remaining steadfast across my mouth to muffle my latent moans. His eyes are bright with mischief as he sucks my poor clit through his teeth again just to get one last squeal from me before he drops his hand from my mouth and grips my hips like a greedy, starving man.
“Oh, we’re not done, Little One.” He sneers like a wolf who has just dropped his fleece and I grin in surrender, completely willing to be devoured. He winds one hand into my hair and the other hovers over my pussy. The fluidity of his movement is enough to hypnotize me, as he pulls my hair, slowly forcing me to arch my back and reveal my neck, his fingers slide into me at the same painfully, slow pace. His velvet tongue glides up my neck as his fingers massage me slowly. Each pass he goes deeper, resting his palm against my clit, while he suckles at my neck. A slow searing heat spreads through me as his pace picks up. Lick up my neck, push into my flesh. Lick, suck, push. I start to rock on his desk as he pulls my hair tighter, my back arched so fiercely, when Nina’s disembodied voice breaks thru my lust addled purrs, ripping me from the moment.
“Rhys.” She clears her throat. “Mr. Slate, Mr. Darby has confirmed for the party tonight and your one o’clock appointment is early and on their way up.” Rhys’ black eyes narrow on my mouth, his lips twisted in frustration. Sliding his fingers from my sex, I feel suddenly empty and worse for wear. I whimper slightly as he rolls my skirt back down my thighs and straightens my hair. He pops his fingers in his mouth and hums before a wide grin breaks across his face.
“Sweet as ever,” he teases as I hop down from his desk and slide my shoes back on. He pulls my hips and kisses my belly. “I am sorry for the interruption, Beautiful. We will have to continue this tonight.” His thumbs press into my hips and it ripples through my lower body. “We will be attending a party tonight, black tie. You should go shopping.” He reaches into his pants and I scowl at him. He best not be reaching for his wallet, lest the hounds from hell be unleashed upon him. He pauses, pulling his empty hand from his trousers. “Right,” he murmurs to himself as I pat myself on the back for the tiny victory. He will not buy me clothes. I will not take money from him, and it seems he gets it. “You will need a cocktail dress.”
“I could use a bit of shopping I suppose. Maybe I can find you a birthday gift, too.”
“Don’t buy me anything, Beautiful. Just wrap yourself. It will surely be the most pleasurable unwrapping I will ever do.” He has given me an idea. With a fast, wet kiss and a swat on the ass, he hurries me through the door and down the hallway. He presses me into the elevator with a hard kiss. As he steps back, my door begins to slide shut as the adjoining elevator is arriving, most likely with his next appointment.
Chapter 9
Charlie takes me to Fifth Avenue and drops me off for a few hours of shopping. When I exit the car, I am excited, who doesn’t dream of shopping in New York City, on Fifth Avenue, of all places. My pulse is racing as I walk into the first shop with confidence swirling about me and a secure grin on my face. The first tag I check shatters the confidence and drop kicks my grin into the filthy street. I look up, probably looking like a stunned deer in headlights, into the eyes of a most haughty shop employee with a very knowing look on her face. I fake a smile and head back out onto the sidewalk. Well, fuck. Now what? Maybe I can salvage the fun, all the shops cannot be overpriced boutiques with frigid witches for employees. Two doors down, I find a vintage shop, but as I duck into the shop I realize quickly that it will not be fun, and I will not be getting out of this shopping trip with most of my cash. Designers as far as the eye can see, McQueen, Bill Blass and Chanel, not to mention the mind blowing vintage price tags to go with them. As I stroll past designer shop after designer shop, I decide not to let myself get discouraged, there is no better time than now to treat myself. Lola would want me to, my mom would want me to. Why should I not just splurge? I am in New York, starting a new life, going to a cocktail party. I pop into a shop that has a series of sleek black dresses in the window.
The clerk greets me warmly and is quickly by my side asking what I’m shopping for. He is friendly and energetic and gay as the day is long. The long strand of pearls around his neck and classic Donna Karan shawl give him away. He sashays around the tiny store pulling dresses off racks all the while chattering about what a slow day it has been and how he has been dying to dress someone and then, “Bam honey! There you are, looking all…needy! Now what are we shopping for today?”
“There is a cocktail party.”
“Ooh, a cock..tail party, you say?” He grins and winks before digging through another rack.
“I have no idea what I am supposed to wear,” I offer shyly. “It’s black tie.”
“Girl! You aren’t from here, are you? You wear a cocktail dress…to a cocktail party. I will find something fierce for you. I’m thinking something like….this.” He swirls around with what I am sure is supposed to be a dress, but in fact appears to be a micro swath of black satin with red bondage straps crisscrossing the back. It must stretch, but how much?
“Maybe something a little more, I don’t know, classic,” he huffs, but turns and pulls another more substantial dress from the rack, just barely long enough to cover my butt, no thank you. Dress after dress, he pulls until he finally stops moving and asks me the question.
“Is there a special man that will be…removing said dress?” He winks, nudging me with his shoulder. “Well, in that case, sweetie, you are going to need something fabulous to go underneath! Mm, I have just the thing in mind. Classic.” He winks, and disappears behind a velvet curtain, before returning with the most beautiful piece of lingerie I have ever seen, and I am struck. Delicate black lace, vintage feel, it is special. One of a kind and although I am terrified to try it on, I want it. I have to have it. It has Rhys written all over it, for his birthday. And, if I’m right, I’ll have Rhys all over me, and just like that, I know exactly what I will do for him for his birthday. “I found you a dress!” he sings as he shuffles me into a dressing room and closes the door behind him.
Three hours later and I am standing on the curb outside of Rhys’ townhouse when his sleek black car glides to a stop in front of me. He emerges from the back and takes my breath away. Wrapped in a dark green dinner jacket and a shiny bow tie, he makes my knees weak.
“My God, you are breathtaking.” His eyes twinkle in the glow of the street lamp as he offers me his hand and spins me around. He gasps as I twirl and reveal the deep plunge that exposes my back to the waist. He runs his hands up my sides and they settle at the small of my back, his warmth spreading over me like the summer sun. The dress is perfect, and classic. The sales guy nailed it after two hours of trial and error. Sheer black lace, cap sleeve, plunging back and a long straight skirt, classic, chic. It was more than I like to spend, but to see that look on Rhys’ face I would gladly pay double. It is impossible to feel anything but beautiful when he looks at me like that.
“What has been keeping you so busy?” I ask as he spins me around the floor effortlessly, his hand holding me firm agai
nst him, his hips swaying against mine.
“We have owned this piece of land for quite a while now, but haven’t been able to develop it because it is next to a public school. There is red tape for days when it comes to building next to a school. Just this week the school has been put on a short list of potential closings. We want that school closed. We can have the land rezoned and it will free us up to develop as we like. That is why we are here tonight. The head of the school board will be here, I need to get him alone and convince him that closing that school is in everyone’s best interest.” He swings me out of his arms and guides me in a spin before pulling me back to his chest. “What is the matter?” I cannot wipe the scowl from my face fast enough and he catches me.
“It’s not in everyone’s best interest, is it?” He anchors me to his warm body with a press of his palm and sweeps me to the middle of the floor.
“Please, elaborate.”
“Wouldn’t it be better to help and revitalize the school, wouldn’t that be in everyone’s best interest? Schools are integral to a community. If you close that school those kids will have to leave their neighborhood and be bussed to schools outside of their communities.”
“What would you propose I do?”
“Why not donate your land and make an endowment to the school?”
“And how does that make me any money”
“Do you need more money?”
“No, but I do have partners, and it is basic business principal to expect a return on your investment. I do a lot of charity throughout the city, Sophie, but this is business.” I feel chastised and deflated. “The climate of public schools is changing. These old neighborhood schools aren’t large enough or modern enough to handle the number of children that they need to support. But I am not in politics or policy. I am in the business of development.” He winks and lures me away from my doubts with a sly, crooked grin.
“Now, let’s talk about that dress. You look positively stunning this evening. I feel there may be something developing here.” He smiles and presses into me, his growing cock pressed between us. His hand glides down my back and he cups my ass. Swaying forward, he dips and runs his tongue along my neck and nips at my shoulder before dipping me back and placing a feather light kiss on my collar bone. Passion surges through my veins as he pulls me back to him and cradles my head in his hands. His soft lips are full and waiting as he looks at me with such a force that I struggle to catch my breath. Just as his lips cover mine the electric charge pulses and flows across my skin and my knees are weak. When I finally come back up for air all eyes are on us as Rhys’ cocky grin ignites every pair of panties in the room.
“Everybody’s watching,” I whisper as he kisses my shoulder, his arm tight around my back. His feet glide across the floor without hesitation while he lights me up in front of every soul in the room.
“Let them watch,” he murmurs against my throat. His hand travels up over my hips and across my breasts, brushing against my nipples that reach for him through the lace of my dress. Resting his palm against my chest, he looks at me with the heat of a raging inferno. Down to my toes, I shiver and melt from his touch, from the force of his gaze. “Touch me,” he seethes, pushing himself against me. His breathing is quick, his pulse racing. I slide my hand down his chest between us and cup him. He fills my hand and grows with every breath as he presses against me, pushing more of the pulsing proof into my hand.
“I want to rip that dress from your body, like a fucking animal.”
“You will do no such thing! This dress cost me three hundred dollars.” He smirks and brings his lips to my ear.
“I will buy you a hundred more, just so I can rip them off as well.” A shudder runs over my skin as his warm breath teases my ear and I am lost in a violent momentary explosion. Everything stops as his words solidify and my body is electrified. I close my eyes to absorb the quick wave that crashes in my belly and pull my lips between my teeth to stop from gasping out loud. With no warning, he takes my hand and swings me away from him, rolling me back into his arms, pressing himself to my back and then twirls me around again, pressing his hips to mine. The fire in his eyes is dancing along with us, I can see the lust in his eyes as he pulls me closer. The rest of the party has been forgotten as we sway, locked in each other’s embrace. He squeezes my hand and brings it to rest between us, his forehead pressed to mine. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath and I mirror him, trying to catch my own. A subtle cough and a quick glance over my shoulder pulls him from our moment. I realize Nina is standing behind me, trying to get his attention.
His eyes leave mine and he very easily slides into work mode and out of the trance we so easily fell into. He is all business. He straightens up and smoothes his suit before running his hands down my arms, placing a prudish kiss to my cheek.
“And there is the man of the hour. Sophie, please excuse me while I speak to Mr. Housen. Why don’t you go get a drink and I will be right with you.” He dismisses me with a pat to my ass and a gentle shove towards the bar. Just like that, the spell is broken. Another moment and I would have laid across the dance floor and let him take me, and yet in a fraction of a second the spell is broken and he walks away, leaving me sodden and more than a little irritated.
I sip on a glass of white wine and watch him. He is cool and tenacious, immersed in shop talk with Mr. Housen, the man who so easily stole his attention. He looks up and I catch his eye for a brief moment. He tips his chin to me then turns his back, leading his companions onto the terrace and out of sight. Irritation rises in my belly and I am suddenly overcome. He dismissed me for the first time and it stings. Pushed aside and abandoned at the bar, I know he is doing business, but I am still bothered. No, fuck that. I am pissed. I don’t know a soul here. I am in a new city around a bunch of strangers and he just leaves me? Pissed feels good.
I surrender my wine and ask for a whiskey before making my way through the crowd. I wind between suits and dresses and head down a hallway. Rowdy voices cheer and I hear a familiar, panty melting accent float from a back room. It is set up like an old fashioned card room, tables manned by professional dealers line the walls and a large, ornate bar sits against the back wall. A large group of men surrounds one booming voice that is so familiar it crawls up my back and sends a shiver down my spine. It couldn’t be.
“Well, fuck me! If it isn’t the one woman I could never forget.” His accent rolls through the air and takes me back in time. Flashes of sweaty skin and tangled limbs dance behind my eyes. A marathon of epic proportions, two straight days of base craziness. Andrew. He was the manager of a rugby club visiting for a Sevens tournament. I was completing my internship in sports medicine and assigned to the rugby tournament first-aid tent. Nothing about it made sense.
At the after party, surrounded by rugby groupies and party girls, he picked me. He made his way across the party like he was on a mission. I watched him stalk towards me, knowing what was coming. I was tipsy, but it only made me feel bold and I was more than willing. Something about him just made me feel like I could throw out the rule book and ride him till the dawn. And that is exactly what I did. Two days later, we emerged from his hotel room like two, sun-starved hermits. We never saw each other again and I was totally ok with that. And now, as he stands in front of me, I still cannot believe that it was me that night he chose.
He towers above the other men, lean and cut. Even under his perfectly tailored suit, the definition of his muscles is unmistakable. His long blonde hair is pulled back and a two day shadow covers his jaw. He has pulled his tie loose and unbuttoned the top two buttons of his shirt revealing the smooth golden skin of his neck, making him look even more scorching. His warm brown eyes twinkle and dimples flash in his cheeks as he smiles ear to ear before closing the gap between us in two easy strides. He folds me into his arms, pulling me from the ground so easily. His warm breath slides across my ear and makes me cringe. His breath smells heavily of liquor and his words are slow and measured.
“
You are a sight for sore eyes, Sophie.” I always loved the way his tongue rolled around my name. “This night just took a turn for the better,” he mutters into my hair, before setting me down. With his hand wrapped around my waist, he leads me to the bar and introduces me to the men who surround him. “This, gentlemen, is the kind of girl that could steal a man’s heart. You never see her coming and then all of a sudden you cannot think of anyone else.”
“Andrew!” I press against his chest and it is hard like stone. “Really, don’t embarrass me, please,” I plead.
“Alright,” he relents, tossing back his drink. “You just caught me by surprise. The last time we saw each other we had just worn each other out. Remember?” He winks and I know I am losing control of this situation.
“I do,” I say quietly, “but I am here with someone Andrew, so please.” I find myself almost begging. “Keep it friendly.” How could anyone be mad at those dimples? He smiles at me and pulls me close to his side
“Anything for you, Ms. Lovely.”
“Sophie.” His purr is dangerously low and wild with anger. I turn to see Rhys’ cold, black eyes assessing me and then Andrew, and then feel Andrew’s hand around my waist.
“Rhys, this is Andrew. Andrew, this is Rhys.” A cool tension flows between them as I take a step away from Andrew’s side.
“We know each other.” Rhys’ tone is cold, but the look he gives Andrew is wild with fire. Andrew wraps his arm around me and pulls me into his chest with a squeeze and a devious glimmer in his chocolate brown eyes.
“Mr. Slate, how do you know my Sophie?” I always loved the way his Australian tongue rolled around my name, but now it just sounds slimy and rage inducing.
Rhys slowly winds his fingers around my arm and pulls me from Andrew’s grip. The ridges of his fingerprints fresh on my arm, he wraps me swiftly to his side. I am the rope in a private tug of war.
Speak (The Voice trilogy Book 2) Page 9