by Desiree Holt
“Now, Taylor. Come now.”
He pushed hard one last time and as he began his release she felt herself coming around him. The orgasm took her with such force she didn’t think she’d survive. She throbbed and convulsed and impaled herself on him, demanding with her body that he not move away from her.
As the last shudder died away and he gently lowered her legs to the bed, she felt herself sink into a sleep deeper than anything she’d ever known.
* * * * *
He kept all the windows in the car open as he drove away from San Antonio. His intention had been to return to the ranch tonight but he was sure the man waiting for him would be able to read his sins written across his face.
Fuck!
He’d made a fine mess of everything.
Following her cab to the hotel had been easy. When he watched her go into the bar he saw an ideal opportunity to check her out, Get a reading on her for the old man. Truth be told, he’d figured to find a tramp. Or a conniver looking to score big. Or just a plain, ordinary scam artist who’d staked out the biggest mark of all.
But Taylor Scott was none of those things. What she turned out to be was someone he’d been completely unable to walk away from. It shocked him that he’d been so instantly hard just sitting next to her at the bar. Walking her to her room had been the biggest mistake, a chivalrous impulse that he’d regretted as soon as the words left his mouth. The second she touched him he was undone.
He certainly had plenty of women. Maybe more than his share. But they were nameless and faceless, a narcotic to blot out the pain that lived in his soul. They knew the score with him and willingly offered themselves up to the man whose sexual appetites were legendary.
Taylor was unlike any of them, with a quality to her that was both earthy and sweet and the moment she’d pressed her lips to his in that bold kiss something had slammed into him. A lightning strike would have had less effect on him. The sexual heat was only a part of it. He felt as if he’d been waiting forever for her and that was what scared him.
He hadn’t been able to get enough of touching her. Tasting her. Burying himself deep inside her. He couldn’t erase the memory of her soft lips on his mouth, on his hot erection, or the feel of her tight, hot sheath clenched around him. She was in his blood, infused in him like a drug. Even now his head was still back in that hotel room and his fully aroused cock wished that it was.
The touch of her hands on his skin was like to kiss of a butterfly, the feel of her cunt around his cock like a tight, wet fist drawing every drop of seed from him. He could still feel the slap of his testicles against the firmness of her ass as he drove into her. Taste the nectar of her cream on his lips. Her skin was like satin, her essence sweeter than the finest pastry, her plump nipples just the right size for his mouth. Her scent was embedded in his nostrils, the feeling of her hair and skin branded into his hands. If he closed his eyes the vision of her naked, hair tumbled around her like a hoyden, green eyes blazing, made him instantly hard.
But it wasn’t just her body that captured him. He looked into those vivid green eyes and felt himself drowning. He could feel her anguish churning inside her and wanted to take away her pain. Yet he sensed that playing the role of protector with her, newly emerged from invisible chains, would be the wrong thing to do. No, this was a woman filled with grit and determination. She may have held it back all her life but the tiger hiding inside her was about to roar into existence.
There were so many reasons why this whole night was a bad idea. Yet if he had the choice to make again, he knew he’d make the same one. He wanted to possess this woman almost more than anything in the world and that was the worst idea of all. Women like her had relationships and men like him didn’t. Certainly not with anyone like Taylor Scott. Why couldn’t he walk away from her the way he turned from every other woman in the past ten years? He knew as certainly as he breathed air that if he saw her again he’d be stripping her naked and fucking her at the first opportunity.
He was ruthless about keeping a tight rein on his sexual impulses. The women who shared his bed were awed at his ability to give them hours of pleasure before taking his own. He never told them his mental detachment allowed him to control his body and therefore the pace and variety of the evening’s activity.
No one had reached deep inside him where he kept the panther caged, like Taylor had in one night. Not even his famous ruthless personal discipline could purge her from his system. How in hell had he let one tiny female blow it all apart in the blink of an eye?
He didn’t know if the anger festering inside him was at her or himself. He’d thought to drive her away, make him hate her with the rawness of the sex, his crude behavior. Anything to kill the feeling growing within him. All he’d done was drive both of them to a greater pitch of arousal. And why did he tell her over and over to pleasure herself at home and think of him while she did it? Remember his touch and feel?
Jesus!
He was damn glad she was leaving town. If he saw her again every good intention, every admonition to himself would shatter like thin glass. Tomorrow he’d make his report, reel in the well-defined structure of his life and pray to the heavens the circumstances would change and he never had to see her again.
* * * * *
The first thing Taylor realized when she opened her eyes was that every muscle in her body ached. Inside and out. The second was that she had the mother of all headaches. The room was still dark, the heavy drapes pulled tightly across the windows. She slid her eyes to the right where the radio alarm sat and blinked.
Twelve o’clock?
Noon?
Not possible.
She sat up, then decided that wasn’t such a good idea. Her body felt as if a truck rolled over it, then backed up and did it again. And an entire percussion section was practicing in her head. The room reeked of sex, its aroma clinging to her skin and the sheets and hanging thick in the air. As she fell back onto the pillows last night came rolling back to her like a frightening dream.
God, Taylor. What have you done?
She covered her face with her hands as images flooded her brain. The drinks in the bar, the sharp bite of the alcohol and its opiate qualities dulling her pain. The man—the predator—drawing responses from her she didn’t even know she had. And the words she’d cried out. Was that woman really her? She could still hear her voice screaming, “Fuck me,” and she wondered now that the entire security forces in the hotel hadn’t descended on them.
Remembering the things she’d done, let him do to her and with her, a flush crept over from her toes to the tip of her head. Surely that hadn’t been her. Someone else had taken over her mind. Her body. God! She’d let…she’d done… Spotting the mirror on the nightstand she remembered how he’d used her, remembered watching his fingers slide in and out of her and her cunt convulsing around them. Well, if that didn’t kill the last vestiges of “proper upbringing”, nothing would.
It was the culmination of everything, that was her only excuse. The shock of the letter, then yesterday’s insulting episode. All of it. Her life had been turned upside down and she needed to lash out in some way. But lordy, lordy, not that way.
Oh, no? Admit it. You wanted it more than you wanted to breathe.
She could still feel his body against hers, his mouth on her everywhere. Inside her. Squeezing her breasts. Reaching inside her vagina to the spot that made rockets go off. His teeth nipping at her nipples, her clit. His hands bringing her to one shattering climax after another. And his fingers in her ass, creating a dark hunger she never knew existed within her.
If they could see me now.
All those people who knew the uptight buttoned-down Taylor Scott. The one who never, ever colored outside the lines, who walked around as if she had a stick up her ass. She’d managed to take the stick out of her ass, all right and replace it with something else. Every muscle in her body clenched at the memory of what The Man had made her feel when he penetrated her anus with his finger. G
od, she’d wanted more. How insane was that?
Was this who she really was? Was this the person who’d been inside the tightly constrained outer shell all these years, released only with the knowledge of betrayal?
Strangely enough the wild, uninhibited sex had been a tranquilizer, soothing the edges of her life that had been ripped open and left raw and bleeding. He hadn’t been a gentle lover, this stranger with the bottomless black eyes, the body and air of a warrior and the sure knowledge to take her to places she’d never thought to go. He’d been rough with her, deliberately crude, unwilling to give anything resembling tenderness of affection.
But that was good. Last night she hadn’t wanted gentle, she’d wanted hard and crude and that’s what she’d gotten. A one-night stand with a stranger she’d never see again where all the boundaries were cast aside.
She was puzzled by his anger underlying everything, too strong to be missed. She’d sensed it everywhere—toward her, toward himself, maybe toward his inability or unwillingness to turn and walk away from her room. Away from her. As if he was punishing her. Lust rolled from him in waves even as rage clawed beneath that granite mask. But why? What was really going on with him? What was he really so furious about?
It didn’t make sense. They were total strangers. What difference could the one night possibly make to him? She was sure he did this all the time, a man with his appetites.
Not that it mattered. She’d never see him again. And thank God for that. A man like him would dominate her life and she’d already had more than her fill of that. To learn that all that domination had been to perpetuate a lie viciously contrived left her questioning the blind obedience with which she’d accepted it. For thirty years rebellion hadn’t even tempted her but now it came welling up out of her like a newly tapped spring. She wasn’t about to hand over control to someone else. Especially a stranger.
Get it together, Taylor.
She forced her eyes open again and took in the rest of the room. Her clothes were lying neatly on one of the chairs, a pile of tiny buttons carefully stacked on the table next to it. Oh, yes, now she remembered. She’d been so hot for him she’d ripped off her own clothes too anxious to let him take the time to do it himself. Well, wasn’t she just the seductress.
Except for that neat pile of buttons there was no sign he’d even been there. No note. Nothing left behind. Only the overpowering scent of their physical activity.
Her purse was where she’d left it. Had he robbed her? She wasn’t even sure she wanted to know. Her briefcase sat on an other chair and looked untouched. Everything else looked as she’d left it. Gritting her teeth she pulled herself out of bed to check everything. Nothing had been touched.
Thank God. As drunk as she’d been he could have taken everything in the room much as he’d taken her body and she’d never have known the difference.
She managed to stagger to the bathroom and pry the cap off the bottle of aspirin on the sink. She tossed four in her mouth and ran a glass of water to wash them down. When she was sure her stomach wouldn’t betray her, she lifted her eyes to her reflection in the mirror and thought she might pass out.
Her cheeks and jawline were reddened from what she was sure was whisker burn. Her lips were swollen and her eyes had a slumberous look to them. What was that word he made her say? Oh, yes. Fuck. She looked and felt like a woman who’d been well and truly fucked.
With her headache down to a dull roar, she stood in the shower and let the hot water beat down on her until she was sure her body was fairly ready to function. Closing her eyes as she showered was a mistake, because immediately visions of The Man—what else could she call him? She hadn’t even asked his name—danced before her eyes, the lamplight gleaming on his powerful naked body, his dark hair loose around his face giving him the look of a wild warrior, his thick erection punishing her nearly virgin cunt. Yes, cunt. Another forbidden word.
Maybe I’ll just walk around reciting my new vocabulary, she thought to herself as she dried with the thick towel. Fuck. Cunt. Cock.
But she knew it was defiance. Rebellion. Just as last night had been. Wrapping the towel around herself, she padded into the bedroom and fished the sheet of stationary from her jacket pocket. Reading the damning words again only made the anger rise stronger than ever.
She thought about trying once more to call the man she’d flown from Florida to see but as her hand reached for the telephone she hastily drew it back.
No. He’s humiliated me enough.
Well, her day had started and ended with two very different men. The one didn’t want to see her and the other she hoped never to lay eyes on again. Or did she? Yes, she did. She was once and done where he was concerned. That’s the way it had to be. Besides, she didn’t even know who he was or how to get in touch with him.
And what would she say to him if she did? Please fuck me again? In a heartbeat.
No, today she’d get on the plane and fly back to Tampa, finally claim her inheritance from the people who’d cheated her of her life and decide what to do with herself. At first she’d thought to reject everything that had been left to her but then decided she’d earned it. She and her mother. And while her mother wasn’t around to benefit from it, Taylor could enjoy it for both of them.
What did you do when you were suddenly rich, sporting an MBA degree and had no clue how to live the rest of your life? Did you suddenly go wild, like she had last night? Pick up strange men in bars?
She shivered as thoughts of last night again played like a video tape in her mind. No, she wouldn’t go back to the same life. She’d make some drastic changes. She just didn’t know what.
Chapter Three
Taylor slapped the folder on her desk closed. She’d read the clippings inside so many times the print had begun to blur. The letter from someone named Noah Cantrell, telling her it was urgent she contact him at once regarding Josiah Gaines, sat at the bottom of the pile, out of sight and out of mind. She’d had no trouble deciding not to answer it but now he’d taken to bombarding her with phone calls, insisting he had to speak to her. She refused all of them.
Perversely she opened the folder once more and the headline on the first clipping jumped out at her. International billionaire Josiah Gaines killed in ambush. Someone had waited for the man as he was driven from his offices in San Antonio to his ranch outside the city and blasted his car, killing both him and the driver. Every alphabet agency in the country—maybe the world—was scrambling to find clues but in a month nothing had turned up.
Too bad I didn’t do it myself, Josiah. I’m sure you deserved it.
Even with all that had happened in the past few weeks, the shock of learning that her father was not dead as she’d always been told was still fresh in her mind. She’d had some childish vision of walking in on this man who was now the founder and major stockholder of a multinational conglomerate and creating a family situation. What a fairytale that had been. She’d never even gotten past the reception desk, escorted out of the building like a criminal of some kind by two unsmiling security guards.
Of course, she’d realized that just as she’d never known about him, he hadn’t known of her existence. Her grandmother’s letter described in what could only be called venomous language how she and Taylor’s grandfather tracked down their runaway daughter and the malicious manner in which they’d manipulated the end of her marriage to a man they considered both unsuitable and unacceptable. They’d brought her back to Tampa determined to file for an annulment and wipe the only incident out of family history, only to discover Laura had the last laugh. She was pregnant and no amount of threats or pleas could convince her to abort the child. It was her last act of rebellion.
The myth of her father has been contrived at once—the son of wealthy Europeans killed in a plane crash shortly after the wedding. Then Laura had been bundled off to relatives in Maine until the baby was born, while her grandparents continued with their diabolical plans to keep the lovers apart and prevent any further co
ntact. No wonder her mother had been so sad and defeated all her life. Taylor seemed to be all she lived for. The day after seeing her daughter graduate from college, Laura Scott swallowed an overdose of sleeping pills and took herself out of the misery in which she lived.
Josiah Gaines’ refusal to see her was the final swing of the wrecking ball against the structure of Taylor’s life, igniting the tinderbox of rage and resentment that had been accumulating since she received the letter. How else to explain her out-of-character behavior—getting drunk, picking up a strange man in the bar and spending the night indulging in a night of the most erotic sex she’d ever had. Memories of it still made her blush and squirm.
Memories that, if she were truthful, swept over her on a regular basis.
Far too often for her comfort zone.
Her dreams were constantly invaded by images of Him. The Man. That’s who he was to her—The Man—who had taken her body and taught her the pleasure of uninhibited sex. The images flashed through her mind over and over like a slide show stuck on repeat. Her naked body. His. His hands on her and in her. His mouth on her. Feeling the huge thickness of him inside her. The words he’d used. She awoke each morning flushed, heated, more tired than when she’d gone to bed.
Well, she was done with that, with the man who haunted her dreams, with Josiah Gaines and with this Noah Cantrell, whoever he was. He could go to hell, which was where she hoped Josiah Gaines was right now. They could all go to hell as far as she was concerned.
The past month had been exhausting as she went through the business of settling her grandparents’ estate. But it also marked what she’d begun to call “the emergence of Taylor”. No longer did she go along to get along. She owed nothing to anyone but herself. Her carefully constructed little world had fallen apart and she had no desire to put it back together the way it had been. She had the money now to do whatever she wished. If only she could figure out what that was.