by Tina Donahue
Not that romance was on tonight’s agenda. This was simply about having a good time, then saying goodbye.
Her chest ached at the thought even as her nipples peaked and her pussy pulsed, wanting Hunt’s cock inside of her. A promise he had better keep, that no one except him was going to have her tonight.
“May I?” Wallace asked, gesturing to the car’s stereo.
He didn’t want to talk. Or rather, he wasn’t in the mood to dodge any more of her questions.
She sighed. “Of course.”
He slipped in one of his CDs. The first strains of Yesterday by the Beatles filled the vehicle.
Their melancholy music made Alex feel more alone than usual, not something she relished. She hated being so needy for Hunt before even seeing him again. Liking him as much as she did was freaking dangerous and something she’d never experienced with other men. Many of them had kissed her with passion and skill, leaving her sated, but not content. Some had teased, even giving her a mischievous wink, but it hadn’t been the same as when Hunt had done so.
And which one of the others had begged her not to speak Pig Latin?
She grinned at her memory of Hunt’s first words to her, the effortless way he’d breached her defenses. What would he do tonight when he was the only one allowed to speak, touch, pleasure her?
Oh God, she was so screwed.
Alexa covered her face with her hand and tried to calm down, reminding herself her heart wasn’t his to have. She wouldn’t give it to any man. Ronnie might have talked about her own regrets the other night, not having someone to love, not building a family, but that was only because she’d gotten ill again. If she’d been healthy, she’d be enjoying herself.
No different from a man. How many of them went through this kind of torture over a woman?
Was Hunt feeling anything even remotely similar about her?
“Give him a chance,” Ronnie had advised.
Sighing once more, Alexa dropped her hand and regarded the scenery. What the hell? Wallace was heading away from the District toward Virginia. She tried to recall a house Ronnie owned there and couldn’t. The woman’s country retreat was in Maryland.
The song ended. The new one wasn’t any better. A guy with a vague country accent kept repeating the same refrain to someone named Honey, telling her how much he missed her and that he was being good.
“How long before we get there?” Alexa cut in.
“Don’t worry. You’ll be on time. Mr. Prescott insisted upon it.”
Of course he had. He was clearly running this show, which disturbed and excited Alexa in equal measure. None of the men she’d enjoyed over the years had ever been so bold with her. They did what she wanted or she refused to see them again. Hunt hadn’t allowed that to stop him. He’d continued to pursue her. On his terms.
Just as well tonight was going to be the end.
Unwilling to dwell upon the inevitable, Alexa forced herself to concentrate on something else. Movies she’d seen or wanted to see occupied her thoughts. She deliberated whether to buy a new Coach purse she’d admired on her last shopping trip.
Business matters engaged her next, including her projection for the agency. Tomorrow, she’d work on her plans to expand it overseas. Several of her former schoolmates had already expressed an interest in working for Ronnie’s competitors. Might as well work for her. Europeans weren’t at all uptight about sex as Americans tended to be. Ronnie shouldn’t limit herself to the States. In the past few years, she’d been a bit more innovative, booking men as well as women for the clients. Time for Alexa to bring the business to the next level.
A flurry of ideas consumed her—all with Hunt in the starring role of alpha or Dom—until she realized Wallace had slowed the Town Car a bit. She leaned closer to her window, noting the absence of lights. If not for the heavy moon, she wouldn’t have been able to see the tree-lined entrance they traveled down. Evergreen branches hung precariously close to the car, their needles a silvery green, seeming to want to touch the vehicle…like something out of a fairytale. Cinderella hooking up with Prince Charming for an evening they’d never forget.
Unlike that story’s setting, this area was rural and quite secluded, the drive opening onto an equestrian estate. White fences crisscrossed the land, separating the pastures drenched in moonlight. Alexa took in the entire scene, expecting to see Hunt on a white or black stallion, riding toward her, his dark hair tousled by the breeze, his handsome features shadowed and slightly dangerous.
The pastures were empty. Even when Alexa peered through the rearview window, she didn’t see him chasing after them on horseback.
Disappointment gripped her. Crud.
She slumped in her seat and lost her frown. Ahead was a two-story mansion of Georgian Colonial design. Sprawling, with a portico that boasted four columns, the home’s black shutters provided quite a contrast to its white façade. Alexa’s imagination worked overtime again. Images flooded her mind of Rhett Butler carrying Scarlett up the staircase for some wicked R and R.
However, tonight wasn’t going to be a replay of that scene from Gone with the Wind. None of the lights were on inside. Nor were they going there. Wallace took a road to the left that led to a grassy area away from the house.
This was getting really interesting.
Alexa craned her neck to see more, her fingers resting on the window’s glass. The unusual spring weather had continued, the night warmer than normal, the mild air scented with grass, flowers, pine. A combination of scents that reminded her of Easter and Christmas, days to look forward to and celebrate.
What in the world had Hunt planned?
Making another turn, Wallace directed the sedan up a slight incline. Countless stars dusted the sky, lovelier than any holiday lights. The car reached the top. Wallace continued to drive. Several yards ahead, Alexa saw a massive tent, the kind used for outdoor weddings. This one was black, not white, and lit from the inside. Its front flaps were down, not allowing her to see what was within.
Gravel crunched beneath the Lincoln’s tires. Wallace brought the vehicle to a gentle halt near the tent’s entrance and turned off the CD player. “Have a good evening.”
Alexa didn’t have the strength to thank him or to speak at all. What was this place? Who owned it? Not Ronnie. Alexa knew about each of the woman’s holdings. It couldn’t be Hunt’s. He made a great living as a lobbyist, but he wasn’t rich enough to afford a spread like this, especially with him still supporting his mom, along with her many lovers.
Could it be Tim’s? Maybe.
“Ms. Marsh?”
Wallace had turned in his seat to look at her, his brows lifted, which deepened the lines in his forehead. His expression appeared to question why she wasn’t exiting his vehicle. Clearly, he wasn’t going to get the door for her as he always had.
Had Hunt told him not to? Did Hunt want to make certain she came to him on her own?
Alexa wondered what Wallace would do if she ordered him to turn the car around and take her home? Would he refuse?
He inhaled deeply, sighing out his words. “Is there a problem?”
“Have you spoken to Hunt?”
“Mr. Prescott? No.”
Liar. She saw him struggling not to smile.
Before the suspense killed her or Wallace removed her bodily from his car, Alexa got out. Her gait was unsteady due to her spike heels on the gravel and a whole lot of “what now?” zipping through her mind. She expected Hunt to emerge from the tent to greet her, dressed in a tux perhaps or possibly nude. His cock thick and hard, his balls plump.
She rested her hand on the sedan for support, waiting for her dizziness to pass. The cape fluttered around her legs with the caressing breeze. Warmth lingered in the air’s sweet scent.
The whirr of Wallace’s window going down broke her inertia. “I’m going, all right?” she said quietly and stepped away.
Without comment, he raised his window and made a tight U-turn, then headed back down the rise, the ca
r’s red taillights becoming smaller and smaller, mere pinpoints in the gauzy moonlight.
Alone, Alexa regarded the tent, hearing music playing from inside. A jazz tune she particularly liked. Lots of bass and sax. Steamy. Seductive.
Taking a deep, calming breath that did nothing to relax her, Alexa slipped through the flaps and stared.
Black roses and jasmine were everywhere, scenting the air with their sweet fragrance, the black-and-gold lacquered vases that held them as tall as most men. Numerous candles in ornate brass holders illuminated the space, giving it a dated, romantic quality. Secluded and intimate. The perfect place for two people to indulge in each other away from anyone’s gaze.
The platform in the center dispelled that notion quickly. It was a kind of stage with a large canopy bed made of wrought iron, dressed in black silk. Gossamer panels, as dark as the bed linens, dangled over the posts.
In front of the bed, Hunt stood.
Alexa’s lips parted in awe. She couldn’t look at him enough.
He wore an ebony shirt and pants, the clothing draping his powerful form, accentuating its incredible beauty. A pleased smile touched his lips. Unmistakable desire flared in his eyes. He said nothing, nor did he leave the platform to greet her. He waited, no doubt wanting her to come to him.
She might have run if she’d had the strength. As it was, her body felt leaden, too heavy for movement. Breathing was impossible, her need and wonder was so great. For once in her life, anticipation hadn’t let her down. Hunt had truly outdone himself.
He’d claimed they wouldn’t be alone, and they weren’t.
Alexa regarded the men on either side of the wooden walkway leading to the platform and bed. There were ten in all, dressed exactly as Hunt, though he looked the best. She gave each of the guys a glance, acknowledging their presence. It was only right, since she knew and had worked with all of them at Ronnie’s agency, particularly Brad, Ethan, Kyle and Chris.
Those four were exceptionally attractive. Kyle had the dark good looks advertisers coveted for male models hawking men’s cologne. Ethan’s boy-next-door features would have easily given a younger Matt Damon a run for his money. Brad and Chris were exotic in appearance that didn’t quite jibe with their names. Both might have come from Middle Eastern ancestry.
When clients demanded both a male and a female, Kyle or one of the others had joined Alexa on the engagements. She considered them her friends, the extended family she’d never had. They wouldn’t hurt her. She had no reason to be afraid.
Hunt had made certain of it, giving Alexa what she claimed to need…what she thought she wanted. A buffer between him and herself so she wouldn’t risk her heart. He’d even made certain the area was scented with flowers that matched her perfume. Foolish man. What she wanted to smell was him.
Grateful tears stung her eyes. His presence made her pussy ache for his touch, the thrill of him filling her, driving back solitude and unhappiness she’d endured for too long.
Not willing to bear a moment more of separation, Alexa opened the silver clasp at the front of her cape. The garment slipped off her shoulders, spilling to the ground, leaving her naked except for her heels and diamond earrings. Although they were essentially outside, she didn’t feel a bit of cold. Thanks to the numerous space heaters, the temperature in here was warm, nearly balmy.
While the passion in Hunt’s gaze…
At her nudity, he’d stepped forward, then stopped at the edge of the platform, taking in her length. His smile said he approved, but it didn’t make him come to her. Again, he waited.
Alexa submitted, moving past Ethan and Kyle.
“Have fun,” Ethan murmured, always encouraging.
“Quiet,” Kyle growled beneath his breath. “Don’t break her concentration.”
As if they could. She continued past Brad, Chris and the rest who’d watch her and Hunt in the coming hours, adding to the carnal excitement, though they wouldn’t have her. Not as he did. Tonight she was his alone.
She climbed the platform’s three steps and advanced until she and Hunt were face-to-face. Her first thought was to tear off his clothes and push him onto the mattress. However, she resisted, not wanting their last time together to go too quickly. “Hi.”
“Hey you.” He trailed his fingers down her arms.
Few orgasms had been as gratifying as that simple touch. She trembled.
Smiling, Hunt eased Alexa’s arms behind her back, holding her wrists in one hand. With the other, he cradled her face, lifting it to his. “You like my surprise?”
Oh yeah. “It’s amazing. Can you afford it?”
“Don’t you worry.” He kissed her forehead, cheek, throat.
Each brush of his lips was more arousing than the last. She whimpered. “Okay…but it’s so much.”
“I’m barely touching you.”
“Not that.” She inhaled deeply as he suckled her shoulder. “This place, the guys.”
Hunt whispered in her ear, “Ronnie promised me a discount on them if I teach her Pig Latin.”
Alexa’s shoulders shook with her laughter. “It may come in handy if she’s ever audited by the IRS.”
“The Pig Latin?”
“The discount.”
Hunt drew her into him, so close his erection pressed against her mound. She moaned in appreciation.
He murmured, “As the winner of the Miller-Stein award, you’re not going to allow the tax man to get anywhere near her.”
Alexa’s cheeks got hot. “You know about my award?”
“One of many,” he said, rubbing the tip of his nose against hers. “Beginning with the spelling bee you won in fourth grade.”
She’d forgotten about that. Her nanny at the time had hung the certificate on the refrigerator door, no doubt hoping Alexa’s parents would notice. They didn’t. Her father and mother never went into the kitchen, preferring that the staff bring them whatever they might need.
“I like the glasses you wore then,” Hunt hushed. “They made you look so much more together than your classmates.”
Alexa groaned and blushed again, unable to help herself. “You saw those pictures too? God, I looked like a dork. I was a dork.”
“Quiet.” He ran his thumb over her cheek. “You turned out amazingly well.”
Before Alexa could argue the point or thank him for caring enough to snoop into her past, Hunt lowered his mouth to hers, slipping his tongue inside.
Oh…oh… It was a surprisingly sweet kiss, filled with affection and acceptance she’d never known from a man. Only Ronnie had approved of everything she was or had been.
Until Hunt came along.
Alexa inhaled deeply, filling herself with his scent, clean and masculine. It weakened her further. She sagged into him, suckling his tongue. The musical piece wound down, replaced by another just as erotic. The guys spoke in low murmurs. They might have been talking about sports or what they planned to do once they were finished with this evening’s activities. Alexa didn’t know, nor did she care. Her world became Hunt.
His lips were wonderfully soft, his freshly shaved cheeks smooth and hot against hers. She twisted her wrists, wanting to be free so she could touch him. He released only one of her hands, proving he was in charge tonight.
Alexa allowed him to believe it, for a second.
She cupped the side of his face, driving her fingers through his hair. Hunt pulled her closer, deepening their kiss.
They necked as young kids do when they know they can’t go any further, this was all they had. For the moment, it seemed enough. Special. Caring. Hunt’s tenderness aroused Alexa more than if he’d thrown her on the bed and plowed inside. Her tongue played with his, a sensual dance. She stroked his cheek with her thumb.
He angled his mouth for better penetration, delighting her even more. Pushing his tongue from her mouth, Alexa filled him with hers instead, showing him she’d also have a say in what happened this evening. Hunt followed her lead, but no longer held back, his passion growing unciv
ilized, savage. She welcomed it, pressing her body against his. If she could have slipped inside him, becoming a part of his heart, soul and mind, she still wouldn’t have been content. Every part of her begged for more. Now. This very second.
She pulled her mouth from his and gulped air. Before Hunt could stop her, Alexa squirmed out of his hold and sank to her knees.
“No,” he said.
“Please,” she whispered, lifting her face.
Hunt’s complexion was dark with desire, his expression wild with lust and longing so great he appeared dazed.
Alexa seized the opportunity, unbuckling his belt, pulling down his fly, pushing his boxers and pants to his knees.
His erection sprang out, hard and thick, smelling of sex.
A lusty growl poured from her. Grabbing the tails of his shirt, Alexa shoved them out of the way and cupped his ass in her hands. God. His buttocks were so tight and firm Alexa couldn’t stop squeezing the cheeks. Not that her wanton fondling of him was the full show. She rubbed her face against his dark curls, scented with musk. Was it conceivable for anything to smell better than this? She doubted it. If not for her high heels stopping her, she would have curled her toes.
Hunt made a series of noises that proved how delighted he was.
They hadn’t even begun.
She ran her tongue down his rigid cock, from root to head, licking the tiny opening in the crown. His pre-cum was as silky as the finest bath oil and tasted way better. She lapped up every bit of its salty flavor. Hunt rocked back on his heels, then leaned forward to get even closer.
One of the guys applauded, a slow tap-tap-tap of his fingers striking his palm. The others followed suit. Their tempo matched the music’s, the sound encouraging Alexa to drive Hunt wild.
With her cheek, she eased his shaft aside, exposing his left ball, hot to the touch, lightly furred. So male and feral, she whimpered in delight. He groaned. She cut it off with her first lick, reducing him to a startled pant. Her second lick had Hunt pushing to his toes. Alexa waited until he came back down, his shoes slapping the platform, and then she drew his testicle into her mouth, sucking gently, drawing her tongue across its rough contours.