by Celia Aaron
The string quartet played beautifully, alternating between classical and more contemporary tunes to keep the room lively. Conversations swelled and ebbed, and I talked my way into several deals on the condos. Jack flitted around my periphery, asking guests if they wanted more drinks or food, giving out my cards, and distributing other sales materials. He seemed to intuitively pick up on what I needed. When Gray got too boisterous at the bar with an old friend, causing several heads to turn and my sales pitch to falter, Jack clapped Gray congenially on the back and coaxed him and his friend out onto the balcony.
By the time the party was halfway over, I was parched and starved. I took a champagne from the nearest tray, downed it, and grabbed another when no one was watching. The hors d'oeuvres looked maddeningly delicious, but I wasn’t able to snag one from a server before another potential buyer walked up. I made do with the champagne while I extolled the virtues of the higher floor condos, which, not coincidentally, also had a higher price tag.
I smiled, flirted, and endured more than a few roving hands, and by the end of the evening, I’d sold a quarter of the condos in handshake deals. I would have Jack send out the contracts in the morning.
After I escorted the last broker from the room, I plopped down at the bar and downed yet another glass of the bubbly. My feet were aching, and I realized it was close to 2 a.m. The pre-sale event had been a roaring success, by my count. With a quarter sold and soft deals on a few more, I was on track to beat Gray’s deadline. The only condo that hadn’t gotten any bites so far was the penthouse. I would just have to work harder.
The servers worked to load all the glasses up on trays for the kitchen, while others cleaned the tables and began setting the room back to rights. I didn’t see Jack anywhere, but Gray stumbled in from the balcony, a drink sloshing in his hand. I was feeling a bit woozy myself, but a few more drinks would ease the pain in my feet.
“Hey.” I motioned to the nearest server. “No more for him, got it?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“But one more for me.”
He filled my flute as Gray sank down on the stool beside me. He draped his arm across my aching shoulders.
“Well, well, little Rochester heiress. You get it done? Sold out?”
“Not quite. But a quarter of the condos are handshake deals. Contracts out in the morning.”
“A quarter?” Gray shook me. “That’s not so bad. Maybe if you’d worn a shorter dress, you would have done half.” He leered at my breasts, the top swells revealed from the low neckline.
“There aren’t many shorter than this that would be acceptable in public.”
He licked his lips. “I’ve seen you in a few that might have worked well.”
I took a deep breath to calm myself. Not tonight. Not tonight. Please.
“What do you say we go up to my room?” His fingers dug into my shoulder, anticipation making him rougher.
“I—”
“It wasn’t really a question. You know that.” He smiled, predatory and smug.
My stomach roiled, matching the chaos in my head. I couldn’t say no. He’d take this project away from me. I couldn’t let that happen. I couldn’t bear to live with the consequences. I had too much to lose, more than even Gray knew.
“I—”
“Ms. Rochester.” Jack appeared behind us.
I wondered how long he’d been watching, listening.
He continued unfazed. “I need to go over some of the deals with you. The list you gave me is incomplete in a couple of areas, but they should be easy fixes. If I could just have a moment or two?”
Gray gave Jack a hard stare and strengthened his grip painfully, making me wince, before releasing me. “Don’t let me interrupt sales. By all means.” He stood and wove his way toward the elevator.
I didn’t hide my sigh of relief as he disappeared from view. I rested my head on my forearm, suddenly exhausted. “How many are messed up?”
“None.” He was closer now, right behind me.
“Thanks.”
I lifted my head just enough so I could see his reflection in the bar mirror. He was doing it again, piercing me with those eyes, seeing right through my bullshit. I was certain of it. After a moment of meeting his gaze, my head started swimming.
“You’re welcome. Come on.” He lightly pulled my shoulders back and helped me from the barstool. “You need some rest.”
I let him lead me out of the bar and into the elevator. I was almost hobbling, my feet screaming for release from their stiletto prisons. I sagged against him, tired and dizzy. He held me at his side, just as he did when we first met. His arm was strong and steady. His hand wrapped around my ribs, his fingertips skirting the side of my breast. I wondered if he could feel the heat radiating off me from his touch. I hadn’t had a welcome touch in so long that my skin seemed to overreact, like it was starved for it.
He hit the button for the top floor, and we rode in heavy silence. Blood and alcohol rushed to my head, and I closed my eyes. When the doors opened, he dispensed with pretense and scooped me up in his arms.
“You don’t have to—”
“Key?”
I dug in my clutch and found the thin slip of plastic. My room was at the end of the hall, corner suite. He’d chosen well. Was his room up here with mine? Next door? I dropped my head against his chest and gazed up at him as he trudged down the hallway. His five o’clock shadow was showing. I wondered what it would feel like against my hand, my face, my thighs. It was the first time I’d seen him any less than perfectly groomed, though he still looked sexy as hell. He usually kept his appearance meticulously neat, everything in order. It was like a suit of armor, or perhaps a cage, for the man within. I wanted to know that man, the one I’d only seen glimpses of, the one I’d seen on the plane. But I couldn’t.
What we’d shared earlier today scared me. On the plane, I’d wanted to curl up in his lap, to comfort him. His fear was more than just flying. There was real fear inside him, the kind that only comes from having been through the fire and coming out the other side burned. I knew all too well what that was like.
He took the key from me and slid it into the lock. The door opened with a slight whoosh. It was cold and dark inside. He carried me to the bed and lay me down. He stood. I could barely see him illuminated in the glow of the alarm clock.
My head was fuzzy, but my focus never wavered. I wanted to know what he would do next, needed it to be something, to mean something, even though I knew I shouldn’t want it from him. My dress was pushed up almost to my hips, my legs exposed to his view. I couldn’t see his eyes, but I felt him studying me. I wanted him to. I could feel myself getting wet, warming even in the cold of the room.
He let out a breath, as if he’d come to some decision, and bent over me. His hands slid down my calves, his touch light, barely there. He left goose bumps in his wake. Then his fingertips were on my ankles, working to undo the buckles holding on the torture implements that passed for shoes. He took one off, and I heard it hit the floor in the far corner. My foot throbbed as I stretched my toes. He worked the next shoe off a bit more easily, and it joined its mate in the corner of shame.
“Thank you.” Was that my voice? It was so low, phone-sex husky.
He scrubbed a hand down his face. I could hear his palm hitting each of the stubbly hairs. I wanted to feel them against me.
He reached down tentatively and ran a hand over my outer thigh, stroking me from my hip to my knee in one smooth movement.
“Shit.” His voice was tense, like a wire drawn tight.
He ran his hand back up and scooted it under my ass, palming it. I whimpered and reached out to him. My fingers grazed his belt buckle and went lower, feeling the long, hard length of him. I went up in flames at the thought of him inside me.
He hissed and stood up again, encircling my wrist with his hand.
“Ms. Rochester—”
“Eden.”
“Eden, you’ve had a long day. You need to get som
e rest.”
“Won’t you stay?”
He stood silent for so long that I thought maybe I was imagining him in the first place.
“If I stay, I don’t know if I’ll be able to stop myself from fucking you.” His voice was a low growl.
I’d already waved the white flag in the face of what I wanted, needed, from him. I decided to bring in the cavalry. I took his hand and guided it to my panties, letting him feel how wet he’d made me.
“Jesus.”
He prowled on top of me, spreading my legs with his knees and pressing down into me. His lips were at my throat as he took my hands and pinned them above my head. He held them there with one hand and used his other to cup my breast, teasing the hard tip through the thin fabric of my dress.
“I watched you all night,” he said between licks and bites.
I arched up to him, wishing we were both naked so I could feel the hardness of his body against me.
“In those fuck-me heels, that dress. I wanted to bend you over the fucking bar.”
I moaned at his words. This was the man inside, the one who stalked around in his cage of self-control. Now he was free. I didn’t know if I was frightened, but I was definitely turned on. My panties were already wet, and my pussy grew tighter. He moved down my body and pulled the fabric away from my breasts.
“Perfect.” He fastened his mouth around my nipple, and I cried out at the sensation of his tongue lashing the stiff peak.
I wanted to feel him, to run my hands through his hair. I tried to pull my hands free, but his grip was too strong. He bit down on my nipple as I struggled, and I gasped from the sheer pleasure. He moved to my other breast with his mouth as his hand trailed lower still. He sucked my nipple to the point I thought I might come just from the sensation of his tongue. Every lick, every suck, streaked right to my clit.
He hooked his fingers in the side of my thong and yanked. He released my hands and breast and rose over me before pulling down my panties and tossing them aside. He slid his hands up my outer thighs to my hips, taking the material of the dress with him. When he moved the fabric high enough to see my pussy, he groaned and gripped my hips.
“Do you know how hard I want to fuck you right now?”
I shivered at his words. “Tell me.”
“I want to make you scream my name. I want to bruise you, to leave my mark. I want you to think about it with every step. Do you understand?”
My mind short-circuited at his words. His voice was sex, the kind I’d dreamed about but never really had.
“Yes.” God, yes.
“I want you to touch yourself and think about me fucking you.”
“I already do.”
“You do?”
“Yes.” I writhed beneath him as he massaged my hips, my ass.
“Show me.”
“Show you?”
“Show me what you do to yourself when you think about me fucking you. I want to see it.” The low rumble of his voice sent goosebumps rushing down my already flushed skin.
His face was still in shadow, but I knew mine was illuminated by the alarm clock light. I stared up at him, imagining his blue eyes on me, watching me. I slipped a hand down my neck, past my breasts, stomach, and down to my pussy. I palmed my breast with my other hand, kneading it as he had only moments before.
“That’s it, Eden. Show me.”
I dipped my fingers down to my clit, rubbing slow circles around the aching nub. I teased my clit, feeling the jolts of pleasure radiate from my pussy with each stroke. I moaned his name as I imagined him sliding inside me.
“Tell me what I do to you.”
The pressure built between my hips as I kept stroking my clit and pinching my nipple.
He gripped me even harder. “Tell me, Eden.”
“You slide your fingers in here.” I dipped down and pressed my fingers inside, feeling my tightness clamp down. “And then you lick them.”
He bent his head down. “Give them to me.”
I held out my hand and he licked my wet fingers. He groaned as he lapped each drop from me, his tongue like hot velvet.
“Then what?”
I dropped my hand back down to my pussy and separated my folds. He growled low in his throat as I rubbed up and down, squeezing my clit between my fingers. My hips rocked, and he dug his fingers even harder into my sides, likely leaving bruises.
“You sink your cock into me.” I was panting, my fingers stroking faster and faster as I imagined him inside me.
“And then what?”
“You fuck me like you can’t live without me. But also like you hate me. Hard. So hard.” I was getting close already. “You suck my tits as you pound into me.”
“Like this?” He bent over me and took my nipple in his mouth. He sucked and twirled his tongue around it, sending tremors through my body.
I moaned his name at the sensation. “I’m going to come.”
“Come for me, Eden. Only for me.” He bit down on my hard tip.
I couldn’t stop if I’d tried. I arched off the bed as I came, my legs spread wide as I stroked myself and imagined him coming inside me. I wanted him to coat my pussy, my throat. I wanted every drop he had to offer. I moaned his name as I rode the wave back down, relaxing back into the bed as he relinquished my breast.
I wasn’t the only one panting. He’d controlled himself the whole time I’d pleasured myself, but he seemed to be on the brink. I wanted him. I rolled my hips up to him, grazing his hard cock through his pants.
“Eden.” He gripped my hips and pushed me back down. “I can’t.”
I cooled a bit at that. I had just come in front of him, and he didn’t want to fuck me?
As if reading my thoughts, he quickly said, “I want to. Trust me, I want to be buried in you right now more than anything I’ve ever wanted in my whole life.”
“Then why not?”
“I don’t think I’m ready.”
“What do you mean?” I stilled. “Oh my God, are you a virgin?”
He laughed. I wished I could see his dimples. I knew they were there whenever he laughed like that.
“No. I just want to do this the right way. You’re more than just a fuck to me. I want to prove it to you.”
Complicated. This was becoming complicated. Maybe he was right. I mean, of course he was right. I was his boss. This was a lot more than a one-night stand. My cheeks reddened at the thought of having to see him the next day after what I’d just done.
“Don’t do that,” he said.
“Do what?”
“Regret this.” He leaned over and pressed his lips to mine. It was our first kiss, I realized. He was gentle, his tongue licking my lips until I said what the hell and opened my mouth for him. He slanted over me, our tongues caressing each other as my body heated for him again. I ran my hands through his hair, my fingertips exploring the tight little curls.
He pushed away from me, sitting back on his haunches as he surveyed me laid out before him.
“Have to go. Have to. Can’t stay.” He shook his head.
“Who are you trying to convince?”
“Me. All me. Jesus, I’m an idiot to leave this, leave you.” He stroked a knuckle across my pussy. “Fuck. Just one taste. Just one.”
“Please.” Was that me begging?
He leaned down, his face hovering right above my pussy. I needed him, needed anything he would give me.
“Jack, please.”
“Just a kiss, that’s all.” His voice, still a deep growl, had me digging my fingers into his scalp.
When his lips met my wet flesh, I cried out, and when his tongue circled my clit, my hips bucked toward him. He groaned into my skin while licking along my folds. Sparks of heat burst wherever he made contact, and I was on fire for him.
He gave my pussy another lick and stopped on my clit, tonguing it as I writhed beneath him. Pulling away, he hopped up from the bed.
“Jack, please.” I made a keening sound I didn’t know I was capable
of.
“Fuck, Eden.” His voice shook, his stoic façade gone by the wayside. “If I stay, I can’t stop. I know I won’t be able to. It’s all I can do not to bury my cock in your pussy right now.”
I smiled in the dark just knowing I’d caused him to lose control. My pussy demanded to be filled by him. I wanted the heat of his mouth on me, I wanted everything he had.
“We can’t.” He took a step back.
I let out a breath, trying to calm the heat he’d kindled inside me. I knew if I reached out for him and stroked his cock, he’d be off the cliff. But I didn’t. Maybe it was for the best that we didn’t have sex. Maybe we should just put this one crazy night behind us.
Even I knew I was kidding myself. I would never forget this.
He bent and grazed my lips with his once more before backing away into the darkness. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
The door clicked shut when he left.
I buried my face in the pillow next to me and yelled. Half with unfulfilled desire, half with embarrassment that I’d just masturbated in front of my assistant while screaming his name.
CHAPTER SEVEN
JACK
I RECALLED HER TASTE and licking it from her fingers. I lay on my bed, stroking myself as I remembered how she looked spread out before me, her pussy glistening and ready. The way she’d said my name. God, she was sexy. Did I tell her she wasn’t a ten? That was because she was off the fucking charts.
She’d come into the party wearing her short dress and stilettos, looking like sex personified. Every man in that room was ready to make a deal with her if it meant getting close to her, or maybe having a chance to bed her. She was like a siren, luring hapless men to their doom. I’d watched her all night, imagining what she’d look like spread out on my bed.
And then she was, my fantasy come to life, screaming my name and pleasuring herself right in front of me. I had never seen anything more beautiful, more sexy, in all my life.
I stroked my shaft faster, the image of her perfect tits flashing across my mind—the way her lips felt, the softness of her skin. The heat of her pussy. I don’t know how I kept myself from sinking my cock into her. If the light had been on, and I could have seen her more clearly, it would have been over. I wanted her still, wanted to rush back to her room and fuck her until the sun came up, have her screaming my name until her voice went hoarse.