Tycoon's Valentine Vendetta

by Yvonne Lindsay

  “Ah, it’s still there,” he said, satisfaction ringing in his voice.

  “What?” she asked, her voice heavy with desire.

  “Your birthmark.”

  He leaned forward and his tongue traced around the heart-shaped birthmark she’d all but forgotten about. Jack teased her with tiny licks across the surface of her breast until she all but begged him to take her nipple into the hot, wet cavern of his mouth.

  Despite her pleas he appeared in no hurry and Lily felt as if her skin would split with the tight demanding need that rose within her, the pressure building and building, seeking release yet not finding it.

  His fingers continued their feather-fine tracery of the underside of her breasts as he paid due homage to her birthmark. Finally his tongue traced a track from the underside of her breast and up toward her engorged nipple. Again he teased, swirling his tongue around but not over the tight bead of flesh. Lily rocked her hips harder, physically begging him to take her nipple in his mouth.

  When his lips closed over the tightly ruched skin, Lily nearly jolted off his lap. A spear of sharp building sensation arrowed down through her belly to her inner core. She felt the contractions begin in her womb as his tongue played across her nipple, drawing it into his mouth, releasing it and then starting all over again. His other hand slid down her body, seeking, questing beneath the gathered fabric of her skirt. His fingers traced a new feather-soft line from behind her knee and up to her buttocks where he cupped the warm globe of flesh, exposed by her G-string, in his hand. He squeezed slightly, pulling her ever more firmly against him. A shudder started from deep inside her, her nerve endings screamed for release.

  His hand slid across her hip, to the hollow at the top of her thigh, his fingers slipping inside the tiny triangle of fabric now soaked with the juices from her body. Lily angled her hips slightly upward, allowing him better access to the aching nubbin, the centre of all her pent-up need. He barely touched her, once, twice, a gentle sweep of his finger, and she came apart in his arms, his name a savage cry from her throat as paroxysms of pleasure rode through her body in wave after wave.

  Eventually she sagged against him, her head nestled against the curve of his neck and his shoulder. Her heart beat so fast, so loud, it almost felt as though it would leap from her chest. Slowly her breathing returned to normal, but the aftershocks of her orgasm continued to send little shocks of pleasure through her body, leaving her feeling boneless, helpless in his arms.

  “You cheated,” she murmured against his throat, nipping lightly at his skin. “You made me come but took no pleasure for yourself. This time is for you.”

  “Don’t kid yourself, Lily.” His voice was rough like gravel, as if each word was being ripped from his throat. “I take the utmost pleasure in watching you lose control, in feeling you fracture apart in my arms, knowing I brought you that pleasure.”

  “Then you’ll understand my need to reciprocate.”

  Lily pushed against his shoulders, using his solid strength for balance as she regained her somewhat shaky composure and slowly stood over him. She pushed at the dress, bunched around her waist, letting it slid down over her hips before it fell to her feet. One by one, she lifted her feet, stepping out of the pool of fabric, then she flicked it away with a gentle kick. Still standing over Jack’s prone body, she arched her back and stretched, like a cat in the sunshine. Sleek and proud and incredibly female.

  “Lie down on the pillows,” she commanded from her vantage point. “It’s your turn.”

  Eleven

  Jack silently did as she bade, all the while not taking his eyes from her body. Lily’s breasts felt full and tight, her skin ultrasensitive, as if with his gaze he physically touched her.

  When he was positioned against the pillows she knelt beside him, her fingers flying over the black studs of his shirt, inch by inch exposing the broad expanse of his chest to her touch. She pushed the fabric aside with impatient movements, her palms skimming over his skin, leaving a trail of goose bumps in their wake. She ran her hands across the tops of his shoulders and down across his pectoral muscles, which twitched beneath her touch. The hard disks of his nipples abraded her hands as she swept them across his skin.

  Slowly she worked her way down his body, pulling the tails of his shirt from his trousers and loosening the belt at his waist. Ever so carefully she eased down the zipper, mindful of the tender swollen flesh that pressed against it. He lifted his hips as she pushed his pants down, a raw groan pulled from his throat as her fingers traced the outline of his erection through his boxers. She felt his penis jump against her hand as she rubbed against him more firmly before she eased his boxers down, exposing the hard length of him to her gaze, her touch, her taste.

  She bent and swirled her tongue around his tip, the tangy, salty taste of him exploding on her tongue as she swept away the bead of moisture that glistened there. Again and again she circled the engorged head, her fingers wrapped around his shaft and pulling slowly, rhythmically, along is length. She bent lower, her hair tickling against the paler skin at the top of his thighs, his groin, and took his tip into her mouth, her lips slickly closing around him, sliding over the silken hot flesh with a new hunger.

  Her own body began to throb anew with the beat of heated blood as it pulsed through her. With her free hand she cupped his swollen sac, squeezing gently, and sucking with increasing pressure on his sensitive skin at the same time.

  Jack’s hands, which had remained still at his sides while she ministered to him, suddenly whipped up and clenched in her hair, holding her to him as she continued to swirl and suckle and squeeze. She felt the tremor build within him, felt the muscles of his stomach, his thighs, clench—half lifting off the bed of pillows—as his climax exploded through him.

  With a satisfied smile she lifted her head from him, stroking his length one more time as she stretched out alongside his body, trailing her fingers up across his belly and higher to rest flat across his heart—over the tattoo of a lily he’d never had removed.

  They lay in silence for some time, the golden light from the setting sun gilding their bodies. Lily had never felt more powerful or complete at the same time. They hadn’t even fully made love yet and still the sense of satisfaction, of completion, that coursed through her veins knew no par. She had brought him the utmost pleasure, and it pleasured her to know she’d done so. Pleasured, empowered and aroused.

  She wanted him again. All the way this time. More than just a touch, a mouth at her wildly sensitive breasts. She wanted—no, she needed to feel his heavy weight over her body, his total possession of her.

  Jack stroked a lazy hand up and down Lily’s spine. He wanted to feel her skin against his and he was wearing far too many clothes. He pulled away from her, and levered himself to his feet and rearranged his boxers and trousers before reaching down to pull Lily to a standing position.

  “Now that’s got the edge off, you’d better be ready for round two,” he growled as he scooped up their wine bottle and their glasses from the table. “Here, take these.”

  Lily took them and laughed in surprise as he scooped her up into his arms as if she weighed no more than a child. He bent and nuzzled her breast, catching her nipple in his teeth and pulling gently.

  “You seem to have an obsession with my breasts, Mr. Dolan,” Lily teased with a soft chuckle that ended on a moan as he did it again.

  “Your breasts and every other part of you, Miss Fontaine.”

  He ascended the stairs with her in his arms, stopping on the landing to kiss her deeply. “All night long, Lily. I’m going to drive you wild, all night long.”

  “You’d better deliver on that. I’m counting on it.”

  He covered the rest of the stairs at a jog, wheeling to the left at the top and through another sitting room before entering the master bedroom. There, he lowered Lily to her feet, deliberately sliding her down over his body. He was already hard for her again. He took the wine and glasses from her and placed them on the beds
ide cabinet before shedding his clothes and reaching for her again.

  A shudder ran through his body as the tips of her nipples brushed against his chest and he ran his hands down her back before sliding his fingers under the thin strip of her G-string and pushing it down off her. His erection pressed against her entrance, demanding entry as if it had a life of its own. But he pulled back, summoning on all of his control, and led Lily over to the bed. He ripped away the covers and gently pushed her down onto the cool, crisp, cotton sheets, his eyes drinking in her grace as she lay there, a secret smile tilting her lips.

  He hoped she had enough stamina for what he had in mind because now he had her here, in his house, in his bed, he wasn’t letting her go for a very long time. Before he joined her on the bed he yanked open the bedside drawer and scooped up a handful of condoms, scattering them on the polished surface of the wood.

  “So many?” Lily said with a smile.

  “I have more,” he grunted as he ripped one of the packets open and sheathed himself with an economy of movement before positioning himself over her. “This one is going to be wild, I hope you’re ready for me.”

  He reached between her legs; a swell of pride coursed through him when he found she was slick with desire for him already. She lifted her hips to him in silent entreaty as he positioned himself at her entrance. Jack reached for her hands, pinning them back against the pillows, opening her body to him fully.

  Her small breasts jutted forward, her back slightly arched, and he watched the flush of arousal creep across her throat and bloom over her chest as he slowly inched himself inside her. Her muscles clenched around him and he waited until they eased off before surging into her, burying himself to the hilt, his sac brushing against her skin. He pulled back and surged forward again, this time, impossibly, even deeper than before. Her eyes glazed with passion, her breath gasped from her swollen lips. Again and again he plunged, riding her thrusting hips with a hunger that built and built within him until he poised on the pinnacle of his pleasure.

  Lily writhed against him as he hesitated. A couple more strokes and he’d be over the edge, and he wanted her over that edge with him, screaming with gratification.

  “Are you with me, Lily?” He ground out the words.

  “Oh God, yes. Please. Don’t stop now.”

  Her inner muscles clenched around him again, pulling him deeper into her body and he sank into her, once, twice, three times, losing himself in the starburst of bliss that exploded through him and in the cries of completion that fractured from Lily’s throat.

  It was a while before coherent thought returned to him. He withdrew from Lily, her small moan of protest making him smile.

  “I’ll be back,” he promised with a swift kiss on her naked shoulder.

  In the en suite bathroom he dispensed with the condom. It went against his plan to be using any form of contraception, but for some reason he couldn’t bring himself to deliberately tamper with the things. One way or another, he would impregnate Lily Fontaine. She’d bear for him the child she owed him, and he’d have the ultimate satisfaction of letting Charles Fontaine know it.

  He wondered if Fontaine was waiting up for Lily’s return home tonight. Well, the old man would have a long wait on his hands. Jack wasn’t anywhere near finished with her yet. Not by a long shot.

  It was almost dawn when Lily woke. Her body felt used and tender, but deliciously so. A satisfied smile crept across her face. Jack had been insatiable, and she’d loved every second of it. Eventually they’d had their dessert—here in bed, the white-chocolate mousse a form of foreplay in itself—and they’d shared the last of the wine from one glass. The sense of togetherness had felt so right.

  She stretched against the fine cotton of the bedsheets with a sigh of deep contentment and looked across to where Jack lay sprawled on the other side of the bed. The pale sheets showed up his dark tan, even in the half light.

  Carefully, so as not to disturb him, she slid from the bed, grabbing up the feather-light duvet that had slipped to the floor during the night and wrapping it sarong-style around her. A set of bifold wood-and-glass doors led off the master suite to a private balcony. Lily eased the door open and slipped through, grateful that the door hadn’t made any noise. She curled up on one of the sun loungers, positioned to face the ocean, and watched the sun as it slowly began its traverse into the sky. The myriad colours reflected on the bank of clouds at the horizon—pink through to peach and varying tones of lilac and red—bespoke imminent rain. She hoped it would be a squally summer storm that lashed the beach and threw driftwood high up onto the sand. There was nothing quite as exhilarating as a summer storm.

  “Can’t sleep?”

  Jack’s deep voice made her start. Lily turned to face him, her breath catching in her throat at the magnificent picture he made standing there, powerful and naked, and bathed in the glory of the sunrise.

  “Hmm,” she agreed. “Besides, it’s a long time since I’ve seen an Onemata sunrise.”

  “Is there room under that duvet for the both of us?” he asked.

  “Sure.” Lily rose from the lounger and spread the duvet out over the cushions. “Here, you sit down first, I’ll climb on your lap.”

  Jack did as she suggested, and once she was settled he scooped up the edges of the duvet and wrapped them around them both. Lily sighed in contentment. There was something very special about being wrapped in the arms of the man she loved and quietly watching the beauty of the day unfold before them. Although she could feel he was semi-hard, he seemed content to simply hold her. This was how she’d always imagined they’d be. Together. A couple. They’d missed out on so much. And why? Her father’s interference aside, Jack wasn’t the kind of guy who’d just give up. She had to know what had made him give up on them.

  “Jack, can I ask you a question?” she asked.

  “Uh-huh.” He nuzzled at the back of her neck, sending a shiver of goose bumps down her spine and making her squirm slightly against his lap.

  “I’m serious. I need to know something.”

  “What is it?”

  “What went so wrong with us ten years ago? We had so many dreams, so many plans. But we didn’t do any of it, did we? I never finished uni, you stayed here in Onemata. How did we get so off track?”

  “Your father made sure we did.” Jack’s answer was short and laced with bitterness.

  “Dad?”

  “You think you know what he’s capable of, but seriously, Lily, you have no idea. You know how we’d waited until you received your course acceptance for Auckland University and how we’d planned to move up there together?”

  “How could I forget.”

  He pressed a kiss into the curve of her neck. “Yeah, well a couple of weeks before we were due to leave, your father called me into FonCom. He told me to leave you alone, that I was holding you back and that you’d never amount to anything with me in your life.”

  Lily held her breath. Waiting, wondering. Would he tell the truth about the money her father had paid him to stay away from her?

  “He threatened me, Lily. But I didn’t believe him. Didn’t believe he’d go through with it.” Jack’s voice shook slightly, as if the memory still had the capacity to shock him.

  “What did he do? Tell me, Jack. What was it?”

  At the time she couldn’t believe her father had discovered their plan to leave Onemata together. They’d been so careful to ensure that no one knew, not even their friends. Jack had been working and saving for months so they could find a small flat or apartment of their own. Where they could set up house together while they both pursued their degrees—his in business administration, hers in the arts.

  “He told me that if I didn’t back off, he’d fire my dad from his job. He was prepared to sack the person who’d been his right-hand man and his senior design engineer since he set FonCom up.

  “Dad was expecting to be offered a partnership, Lily. It would have set him up for life and it was something he’d worke
d toward—something your father had promised him—for years. He gave everything he had to FonCom because he believed in your father’s vision for the firm and his ability to push the company onto the global stage. But the company only reached that level of success because of Dad’s software design skills.

  “I didn’t believe that your father would do such a thing. That he’d cut off his nose to spite his face by firing Dad. I told him I wouldn’t leave you for anything or anyone. I told him we were in love and that I wanted to marry you, but he just laughed in my face. He said a Dolan would never be good enough for his daughter. He made it clear that whatever happened next would be on my head, and mine alone.”

  There was an element in Jack’s voice that rang painfully true. She’d heard similar words often enough from her father. A finger of doubt traced the back of her mind. Had her father lied to her all along about paying Jack to stay away? She’d been so distraught, so displaced, she’d believed him. Especially when Jack hadn’t returned her frantic call when she’d arrived in Auckland.

  Lily turned in Jack’s arms. “You never said anything of this to me! Why didn’t you tell me. I could’ve—”

  “You couldn’t have done anything. No one could. I still didn’t believe him. I tried to talk to my father about it, but he was so busy ironing out the bugs in that programme they sold to the International Banking Commission that we never got the chance.”

  Jack sighed deeply. “The day we were supposed to leave, your father delivered on his threat to me. He fired my dad from the job he loved.”

  “That’s awful, Jack, but your father was highly skilled. Surely he could’ve got another job somewhere else?”

  “There’s more,” Jack said in a voice filled with acrimony. “I was so angry I went up to FonCom and demanded to see your father, insisted that he give my dad his job back. I can still see the smug look on his face now. He told me that Dad could have his job, but only if I stayed away from you—if I didn’t, he would invoke a restraint clause in Dad’s employment contract preventing him from working within the software industry for three years.” Jack paused and took a deep breath before continuing. “You have to understand, Lily, Dad’s work was his life. He truly loved what he did. To be told he wouldn’t work in the industry again for three years, well, it was like being told he’d never work in the industry again. It’s fast-moving, subject to change and innovation on a regular basis. He couldn’t afford to be out of it for so long, but he couldn’t afford not to work, either.”