Winner Takes All - Book 1 (An Erotic Romance)

by Gray, Sherilyn

  “You were wonderful out there today,” he said after a long moment. “It was truly a magnificent ride.”

  “Thank you,” she said, desperately grabbing at inane piece of conversation. “High Impact is a champion. He was born to win. It didn’t matter if it’s with me or someone else.”

  “I doubt that very much. That horse loves you. He’d fly to the moon for you. I understand now what he sees in those honey-colored eyes of yours.”

  Another blush claimed Sasha’s cheeks. She hadn’t turned red this much since her sunburn two summers ago. What was this man doing to her? She drew a quick breath of relief when the elevator bell sounded and the doors parted. Sounds of the party flooded into the small elevator—classical music, conversation, laughter, the clink of glasses. Her mouth literally dropped open as she saw the penthouse.

  The elevator door had opened into a gleaming palace. Signs of extravagant wealth surrounded the elegantly dressed people parading through the posh space. Gleaming hardwood floors. Marble busts arranged on pedestals and facing the guests with their scowling, aristocratic faces. Two glass walls made into an L-shape which allowed in the blazing sunset, a gorgeous spectacle that everyone at the party mostly ignored. And why should they care that nature was doing what she did every night when so much was happening in here?

  Waiters in black trousers and white, long-sleeved shirts walked between the guests with silver trays held aloft in their capable hands. The trays the waiters carried held champagne, mint juleps, tumblers of whiskey.

  Among the beauty and opulence, she felt suddenly out of place, a black-eyed susan in a field of orchids. She felt herself wanting to shrink up against Damien. But he belonged here too among these glorious beings. She did not. Just as she was contemplating making her excuses to Damien and running away like a coward from the big bad rich people, a woman sauntered toward them from a nearby entryway.

  She was flawless. Five-inch black heels, an orange dress that looked like it had been painted on her tall, fashion model’s body. Her black eyes were hawk-like under a swoop of frosted blond hair that looked shocking against her teak skin.

  “Damien! You made it.” She kissed his cheek a moment before she was looking down from her over six foot height at Sasha. “And who is this?”

  She opened her mouth to introduce herself, sure that he didn’t remember her first name.

  “This is Sasha. She is the one who handled High Impact so well this evening.”

  The woman’s glance grew even more interested. “Oh, a female jockey. How delicious.” She offered her hand. “I’m Amelia, my dear. You must let me take you around the room and introduce you.”

  Without waiting for Sasha to accept or decline her invitation, the tall woman—Amelia—curled her long fingers around Sasha’s arm and drew her deeper into the penthouse. The woman introduced her to what Sasha felt was nearly everyone in the cavernous and beautiful place. Surprisingly, Damien kept pace with them, offering tidbit about her that she did not think he knew—“Yes, she became a jockey at sixteen. Sasha was a very precocious young lady,” while continuously fetching her champagne, and making sure she never ran out.

  His presence soothed her. It pushed the nervousness to the back of her consciousness until she could almost fool herself into believing she wasn’t nervous anymore. She laughed when someone made a joke; she answered questions; smiled for the camera when someone asked for a photograph.

  “I didn’t know there were women jockeys,” one man exclaimed, cooing over her like some exotic pet. He fingered his mint julep, looking like he wanted to take her home.

  But he was the only one who treated her that way. Everyone asked her about the race or about High Impact or how it was working for such a task-master as Damien. Most of the questions were firmly on the business of horses despite the looks of speculation moving from her to Damien as he stood at her side. Thankfully, he showed no signs of being ready to leave her on her own.

  It wasn’t long before her head was spinning from all the champagne she’d consumed. Giggly and relaxed, she allowed Amelia to take her still from group to group, introduced her as Damien’s “brilliant young jockey” even though the woman had no idea how old she was. Everyone was friendly and inquisitive, complimentary. But crowds had never been Sasha’s favorite thing.

  Talking with a pair of elegant matrons who wanted to know if she planned on going for the Derby again next year, Sasha suddenly realized that Damien was no longer at her side. The thought of it unsettled her, being strewn among strangers like so much kibble to hungry dogs. She bit the inside of her cheek to stop herself from giggling.

  As soon as was polite, she excused herself from the women and fled to the balcony. She closed the sliding glass door behind her with a sigh of relief. Outside, the quiet was almost sensual in its perfection. No clattering voices. No one asking for a photograph. No eyes picking her outfit apart. Sasha’s eyes flutter closed for a moment as she enjoyed the breeze moving over her face and throat. She leaned back against the closed glass door, her head thrown back. Her hands resting lightly on the door handle behind her.

  “This is a sight I can get used to,” a masculine voice said.

  Without opening her eyes, she knew it was Damien. Slowly, she opened them to get the full effect of him, surprised to see him on the balcony away from the people inside who seemed to be alternately in awe and afraid of him. The wine bubbled in her veins as she looked at him. Had she known a more perfect man? She quietly sighed.

  “I thought for sure you’d be still in there somewhere,” Sasha said.

  He shook faintly shook his head. “I just needed to get away from the crowd for a moment.”

  She nodded. “I know what you mean. Everyone is so nice, but I just don’t feel like being in there with them right now.”

  Sasha pushed herself away from the door and walked to stand by his side. Inside, she smiled, enjoying his eyes on her every movement.

  He likes me! she thought, a bubble of joy floating inside her.

  She looked away from him with an effort. Beyond him, the city was awash in glittering lights. The evening sun had fallen completely away. Night and her cape of lights now blanketed the city. At her side, Damien watched the city too. His breaths came easy and deeply, hands resting near hers on the railing. Such beautiful hands he has, she thought through the pleasant fuzz blanketing her brain.

  “Are you ready to go?” he asked.

  His eyes were as bright as the city lights, glimmering with an intensity that made her shudder. A slow, melting fire started in the pit of her as she stared up into Damien’s face. His look pulled her close then closer to him until her hands rested lightly on his chest. She tilted her head up to his, swimming in the intoxication of his presence, and the champagne.

  “Only if we’re going back to your place,” she whispered.

  Inside, Sasha gasped in shock at her own boldness. She flushed. Did she just really say that? She started to pull back but he gently grasped her arms, tugging her even closer him.

  “Your wish is my command, my lady.” A faint smile, almost cruel in its anticipation, touched his full lips.

  The lights became fierce in his eyes then. She melted even more thoroughly, feeling the arousal move through her body, stiffening her nipples, her clitoris. She reveled in this feeling of desire. It had been so long since she’d touched and been touched with the intension to pleasure. Sasha licked her lips. Her heart pounded. After a heated moment, their bodies pressed chest to chest, hip to hip, Damien released her. He brushed the backs of his knuckles along her jaw line. She quivered.

  He smiled again, obviously pleased. With the lightest of touches, he tucked her arm in the crook of his elbow, led her from the party, and down to his car.

  Chapter Four

  All too quickly, they were at Damien's sprawling estate. With one hand comfortably on the steering wheel, he drove the luxurious black sedan through the high, iron gates and past the stables. The car pulled into a massive garage housing doz
ens of other expensive cars. Sasha had only a few moments to gape at the gleaming assortment of vehicles before he was leading her into the darkened house.

  Damien’s hand clasped gently yet firmly around hers. His strides were unhurried, but purposeful, taking them quickly through the house. Though there were no words spoken between them of sex, or purpose, or surrender, it was all there in the air between them. The way he took control of her was an aphrodisiac. Her body trembled with anticipation of what else he would take charge of. With all those possibilities trembling between them, he led her up the stairs, down a long hallway. Then, to his bedroom.

  Damien closed the door behind them, briefly closed his eyes as he leaned back against the door. His breathing was unhurried and soft. But Sasha felt it cost him a great deal to keep it that way. Excitement and urgency crackled around him.

  "Take off your clothes," he said.

  He voice was all icy control but she could already see the erection straining at the front of his pants. Sasha licked her lips. Wanting to kiss him, wanting so much but afraid to ask. She unzipped the dress and stepped out of it, reaching down to pluck off her shoes.

  "Leave on the shoes."

  In her bra and panties, her high heels, she stood watching him, watching her.

  "Now, the bra. And panties. Take them off slowly."

  He pushed himself away from the door and toward her, his walk even more feline that what she'd noticed before. He stopped with only two feet between them, watched her with eyes that missed nothing as she reached back to unsnap her bra then took it off. She heard him take a rough breath as her breasts tumbled free. They weren't large, only C cups, but on someone so short and so thin, she knew their size looked almost melon-like. At least that’s what one of her foster mother’s had said to her years ago. She roughly pushed the thought from her mind, refusing to let any of those past years ruin her present joy.

  "God!" Damien stared at her breasts, his lips slightly parted, as if he imagined himself already suckling from her.

  He hissed as if to take a move toward her, but stopped himself. "Now, the panties."

  She hooked her thumbs in the edges of the plain black cotton and pulled them down her thighs. Sasha bit her lip as the underwear pulled away from her wet sex, exposing the lush dark bush, the clitoris already poking its head out and begging for attention. The heated want slithered through her body as he devoured her with his glittering eyes. She stood before him, her breasts trembling with each breath she took, not sure what to expect.

  It had been a long time since she’d allowed a man to touch her. Almost two years. In that time, her body had wracked her with its needs; but she’d ignored those needs in favor of her career. Suddenly with Damien’s eyes on her breasts and on her damp sex, she felt the emptiness of every one of those seven hundred and thirty days of celibacy. She wanted him. She wanted him so badly she could almost feel him pushing at the back of her throat. Sasha whimpered softly in her need.

  Touch me, she almost begged him. Touch me, please.

  Then, he touched her.

  He slid a hand around her back and drew her to him, her nakedness against his suited body, even more erotic than if he'd been naked too. Although she longed to see him, longed to touch him, she wanted him like this too. Needed it. Her hands pressed against his chest just as they had done on the balcony at the party. But this time, she was nervous. Almost frightened by the urgent possession in his gaze, by the way he stared hungrily at her mouth, her body. He groaned her name, brought his mouth down to hers.

  Sasha sighed. At last. His lips were firm and warm, the masculine curves of them fitting hers perfectly. Pressing into her, then it was his tongue lapping at her mouth then sliding inside to possess her with its strength and heat. He tasted the entire inside of her. Licked her, made her gasp.

  His touch was the spark she needed. Ever since propositioning him on the balcony, she had been nervous about what she had done. Worried that she could not take it back. Now with his mouth on hers, his hot tongue delving into her, her breasts crushed against his chest, she didn't want to take anything back. She just wanted him to drink her up like fine champagne, swirl her over his tongue, and make her feel like magic.

  Through the thoughts swirling in her head, champagne induced, Damien-fueled, she felt everything as urgent, as hot, as right now. She wanted everything. His tongue. His strength. His body.

  Damien’s hands caressed her back then fell down to her bottom, cupping her curves, stroking her before sliding down between the plump globes of flesh to fondle her wetness.

  "Oh!"

  It had been so long since she'd had a lover. So long that she'd almost forgotten what it was like to be out of her mind with pleasure, wanting someone else to take control of her body and bring her the release she so desperately craved.

  "You're so fucking wet!" Damien gasped against her mouth as his fingers explored between the damp and plump folds of her sex.

  His fingers slid inside her, stroking her until she was moving her body against his, agitated. Out of her skin with want. The fabric of his suit rubbed against her breasts with each motion, jerking her arousal even higher. He pulled his hands back from her dripping sex, still kissing her, sucking on her tongue in a wicked rhythm that had her eyes rolling back in her head, her core getting hotter and wetter. She clung to him, as they kissed, her fingernails curling into his shoulders. A moan vibrated at the back of her throat.

  He lifted his head, eyes bright. Without warning, he swept her into his arms, carried her to massive the bed, a black four poster with soft sheets and the key to her night's fulfillment. Sasha trembled as Damien yanked off her high heel shoes and dropped them on the floor. He knelt in the bed between her splayed thighs.

  "I want to do so much to you," he said, voice rough, seeming on the very edge of control.

  He touched her again, swirling his fingers in her wet heat, thumbing her clitoris, circling the fat button of her pleasure until she moaned his name.

  "Damien!"

  Her fingers curled in the sheets as he rubbed her clitoris with his thumb, two fingers deep inside her. Fucking her, stretching her as he widened his fingers until she ached from the fullness, but distracted from any discomfort by his careful attention to her clit.

  "Put your hands on your breasts," he hissed.

  At first, she hesitated, unsure of what he meant or how to do what he demanded; but the moment she touched her breasts she knew what he wanted. With his fingers fucking her slowly, deeply, his thumb diving around her clitoris and making her wild with pleasure, she stroked her breasts and squeezed the nipples. Her hips moved against her bed, winding and moving around his fingers as he fed her pleasure. Sasha felt as tight as a spring. A flush of heat rushed through her body. As he fucked her, she squeezed her nipples more frantically, pulled them, the gasps tumbling from her lips like curses.

  "You're enjoying that too much," he murmured.

  He stopped his caresses, pulling his thumb from her clit.

  "No! Don't stop. Please."

  She panted as the hot sensation receded. Sasha put her hand on her clitoris, frantic to feel it again.

  “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” His voice was arctic.

  “Please. I need it….” She hooked her middle finger under the hood of her clitoris, stroking it the way she liked while her breath came quickly.

  “If you don’t move that finger, I’ll make you regret it.”

  Sasha whimpered, but took her hand away from her own aching flesh. How had she gotten to this point, of begging, of wanting more than anything for him to make her come? It didn't matter. She wanted him. She needed him.

  But Damien wasn't easy to be had. With his fingers off her clitoris, his fingers moved leisurely inside her body. The spring inside her loosened until the precipice wasn't quite so close anymore.

  "Do you want something from me?" he asked, his fingers still moving inside her.

  Sasha looked between her legs. His fingers were wet with her cl
ear, viscous arousal. He shoved his fingers inside her, pulled them back out while she watched, mesmerized. Warmth and desire undulated through her body, her hips moving to the rhythm he set.

  "Answer me."

  Sasha blinked and looked up into his face. His brutally handsome features were hard with passion, mouth taut, cheekbones jutting under his skin. He looked on the verge of something. Sasha licked her lips.

  "I want to come," she said softly, her voice trembling.

  "Ah." Satisfaction glinted in his eyes. "Will you let me do anything to get you there?" His thumb flicked her clitoris and Sasha gasped from the sudden delight.

  "Yes!” she groaned. “You can do anything!"

  "Oh good." Then he pulled his hands completely away from her, abandoning her wanting center.