“Oh?” I asked weakly.
“Tell me to stop,” he said, “and I’ll stop.”
I should have, I supposed. But instead, I kept my lips sealed, unwilling or unable to utter the words. My willpower was gone. All I knew was desire, and it was destroying my ability to think rationally.
“I don’t want you to stop,” I said, my throat dry with arousal.
He slipped a hand under my skirt, onto the inside of my left thigh, his fingers moving slowly upwards until they found the sensitive place between my legs. “Would you be willing to let me taste your sweet pussy, Ariana? Would you be open to the experience of my tongue inside you?” With that, he tucked his fingertip between my panties and my opening, edging it along it until he found my clit. He stopped there, pressing so, so gently into me, as if he knew exactly how to make me crazy with lust.
I was dying. No, I was dead. This was the end of me. My body was all tightness and agony, unable or unwilling to relax. I felt like I would explode if I didn’t find some form of release.
“I’ve never even kissed you,” I told him, my voice strained.
“Kissing is intimate,” he replied softly.
“So is your tongue between my legs—not to mention that finger of yours.”
“True. But it’s less easy to fall in love with a man who eats you than a man who kisses you.” He pulled his hand away and sucked on the finger that had been caressing me, a move that only served to destroy me all over again.
“You’re worried that I’ll fall in love with you, are you?” I asked, crossing my arms in defiance. My voice was all but useless, driven mad with desire, but I still wasn’t willing to succumb entirely. “If that’s your main concern, it’s very arrogant of you, Mr. Wolfe.”
“I see. So you don’t want a casual fling, yet you’re not concerned about falling in love,” he said. “So what’s the issue? Why do you resist your desire? Don’t tell me you’re not attracted to me, because much as your lips might lie, your body has already told me the truth of the matter.”
My cheeks heated at his words. He was right, of course, but it infuriated me to hear him say it.
“Of course I’m attracted to you. But are you seriously telling me that you’re attracted to me, when you have women like that receptionist out there working for you? She looks like she just stepped off a catwalk in Paris or Milan. Why would you be interested in someone like me when you have women like that around?”
Tristan pulled back and leaned against his desk once again, an amused grin reminding me how sexy his mouth was. “Kara is an interesting woman indeed,” he said, “more interesting than most people will ever know. She’s my underling, however, and I have no time to entangle myself with underlings.”
“I’m your underling,” I told him, nodding to the contract on his desk. “Especially if I sign that.”
“You will never be my underling,” he said. He grabbed the paperwork and handed it to me.
As I stared at the front page, my eyes widened with shock.
“Deed of Ownership,” I read, “Venezia Theater.”
“That’s right.”
“This isn’t a contract of employment,” I told him, my eyes scanning the page. “It says you’re giving me the theater.”
“As long as you agree to let me cover the cost of renovations,” he said, “with the caveat that I will be in charge of its upkeep, advertising, and production costs. You will run the place from the inside. The thing is, I’ve decided that you’re quite right. It would be foolish of me to get involved with an employee. Therefore I’m making you the boss of this particular venture.”
I choked out a laugh. “I don’t know how to run a theater. I’m a designer.”
“Then we’ll do it together, or I’ll hire help for you.”
I tossed the papers back onto the desk. "What the hell kind of game is this?" I asked, rising to my feet in a flurry of rage mixed with humiliation. "Are you trying to buy me or something? Do you think I’m some kind of whore whose price tag is the theater?”
He shook his head. "Never," he said solemnly. "No man can buy that which is priceless. And you, Ariana, are worth more than all my wealth combined."
His words flattered me. But they weren't enough to quell my mounting anger. "So tell me what you want then," I growled, "so I can get out of here in one piece."
"I've told you. I want your body. I crave it, just as I have from the first." Those eyes, those strange, ethereal blue eyes, were destroying me with their stark honesty. The one thing I could say for Tristan was that he was incapable of lying to me, however erotically charged the truth was. "Stop pretending you don't know how much I want to fuck you, Ariana.”
“Yeah, well, I want you, too,” I snapped angrily. “Is that what you want to hear? It’s true. I want you, but I can't do this. You're insane if you think..." I began, spinning around to face the door that would lead to my freedom. But before I could finish the thought, he reached out and grabbed my arm, pulling himself close just as he'd done on the night we'd met. When his breath caressed my neck, my body went hot, all of my resolve shattered immediately and irreparably.
With every second that passed this man was proving that he had the capacity to control me, and the thought of it chilled me to the bone.
"I'm far from insane," he whispered. "But if you knew me for what I truly am, you might learn to fear me in spite of that fact."
I pulled away just enough to turn and look into his eyes. “You might make me nervous, but I would never fear you," I said, tearing my arm free. "I refuse to fear any man ever again.”
I knew in that moment that the majority of my rage wasn’t directed at Tristan, but at someone else. At a man I’d once been foolish enough to trust. A man who should have been a protector—who should have been looking out for me and for those I loved. Instead, that man had destroyed me. He’d shattered my innocence, but more importantly, he’d shattered the innocence of someone I’d cared about more than anyone else in the world.
In that moment, I tried to tell myself that Tristan wasn’t that man. That I wasn’t a young girl anymore. I was a grown-ass woman, and a strong one, at that. I’d been to Hell and back, and I knew how to survive. Surely to God I could find a way to survive Tristan Wolfe.
Still, I stormed towards the door, hurrying towards my escape. But it didn't slide open as it had when I'd come in. So I stood there, breathing hard, waiting for something—anything—to happen. All I knew was that I didn't want to turn back and face him. That would mean he'd won. It would mean we were playing by his rules.
"Are you trying to imprison me, Tristan?" I asked, my chest heaving with every emotion imaginable.
"No," he said. "Never. If you're certain you want to leave, I'll open the door for you. It's as simple as the flick of a switch. Just say the words, Ariana."
I didn't answer. I wasn't certain, not anymore. All I wanted, in fact, was to be near him. To release all the frustration that had built up in me, to use him as I'd accused him of using me. I wanted to dominate him and to be dominated by him, all at once.
Reading my mind, he slipped up behind me again, pressing himself into my body. All of a sudden I could feel an exquisite erection digging hard into my lower back. His hands were on my waist, pulling me backwards, an impossible surge of heat surrounding me as I reveled in the fog of pure arousal.
I leaned my head back, my breath catching in my throat as he slipped his hands around to my front. In the darkened glass door I watched our reflection, his bright eyes wicked with desire as they caught sight of mine. His fingers played with one of the buttons on my shirt, boldly popping it open.
"Cruel man," I murmured. "You should have opened the door. You should have sent me away when you had the chance."
“I will never want to send you away from me,” he said, threatening to undo another button, “Now tell me—yes? Or no?"
I nodded. "Yes,” I breathed.
"Good."
We were no longer talking about my departu
re, and we both knew it.
I watched as he slipped my shirt open, his hands sliding expertly inside, his face tucking itself into my neck. He kissed me there once, twice, his tongue tasting the salt on my flesh, fingers finding their way under the lace of my bra, rolling my nipple between their tips. His touch was a torment, a blessing, searing heat and bitter cold, all at once.
My body writhed against his, my need growing by the second.
I let out a slow breath, my eyes locked on the scene playing out in our reflection. In that moment, I felt suddenly beautiful, like Tristan had erased the years of self-doubt and pain that had eroded my insides. For the first time that I could remember, I felt desirable. Sexy, even. Vulnerable as I was under his fingers, wrapped up as I was in the web of erotic need that he'd inflicted on my body and mind.
When he'd unbuttoned my shirt down to the bottom of my ribcage, he slid around in front of me, his lips finding their way to my exposed nipple. He drew it into his mouth, splitting my shirt wide open with his hands, threatening to tear the remaining buttons clean off.
I buried my fingers in his thick brown hair, guiding him, encouraging him to feast on me in any way that he wanted. Sate yourself, I wanted to say. Take everything from me. Then take more, until there's nothing left.
In this moment I am yours, Tristan Wolfe.
He slid onto his knees and raised the hem of my long skirt all the way up to my waist. Kissed me gently through my panties, teasing my sex through all-too-thin lace. Then, in a moment of aggression, he ripped the fabric to the side, pushed my legs apart and buried his tongue inside me. Aggressive, greedy, demanding that I show him how tight I was, how swollen, how in need of his length deep inside me.
"I want to take you hard, Ariana, and someday soon, maybe I will. But first, I'm going to make you come like you've never come for any man.” He murmured against my flesh, the vibrations of his words almost enough to drive me over the edge.
"Yes," I said. "You will."
He swirled his tongue over my bud, his hunger filling the air around us like steam. I delighted in his touch, letting myself go. Determined to give myself to him for a few precious minutes, as though every inhibition I’d ever felt had abandoned me.
He pulled back for a moment, slipping two fingers inside me as he looked up, hunting for my eyes.
“Touch your nipples for me,” he said.
Without a word, I obeyed, pulling my shirt open and drawing my bra’s fabric away from my breasts. I pinched my nipples for him, pulling gently, stroking my fingers over the tips.
“Fuck, Ariana, you don’t know what that does to me,” he said, before drawing his tongue over me again. “You don’t know how much I want to bend you over and drive my cock deep inside you.” Another lick.
“I have some idea what it is to want someone that badly,” I said. “Now keep doing that, Tristan. It’s so good.”
He obeyed, his lips sucking gently on my clit as I let out a long moan. I was so near the edge now, so ready to fall.
I pulled my hands away from my breasts and rammed my fingers into his hair, controlling him, guiding him, rolling my hips under his touch. He moaned with pleasure, all but purring against my sensitive flesh.
“I’m going to come,” I gasped, and then it crashed over me like a tsunami. Pleasure, ecstasy, perfection all hitting me at once. Overwhelmed by the intensity of my orgasm, I let my spent body slip down to the floor, and Tristan moved with me, following me down, his tongue refusing to leave me. He licked my sex until the waves of pleasure subsided, my body settling in a state of quiet euphoria.
“I don’t know how you did that,” I said. “Every part of me is tingling. I think you made my teeth numb.”
“We did it together,” he replied, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand as he pulled away and shot me a knowing smile. “A collaborative effort.”
“We make a damn fine team, then.”
“Yes, we do. But that was only the beginning, Ariana.”
Chapter 9
We never did eat lunch. By the time my ill-advised moment of weakness had passed, I told myself that I needed to head back to the theater. If I didn’t pull myself away now, I might never leave.
“I can’t slack off,” I told Tristan, sipping a glass of ice water in a desperate attempt to rehydrate myself. My heavy breathing had dried my throat out. Yet, like a masochistic addict, I wanted more. “Even if you do own the place now.”
“Correction: You own it,” he said. “Either way, go finish your work and then come out with me tonight.” He was still dressed head to toe, still so sophisticated. But the hunger was still there, in those eyes, those lips. I hadn’t satisfied him. Still, somehow I didn’t feel bad about it. It simply gave me the upper hand. It meant that I would see him again if I so chose.
I had the power now.
So why did I still feel so powerless?
“I can’t see you tonight,” I lied. “I’ve got plans.”
He slipped towards me and put his hands on my waist. It was an intimate gesture that felt good—comforting, like he was my boyfriend, and not some incredible, unobtainable man who intimidated the hell out of me. “There’s something I want to show you, and I don’t want to take no for an answer, not for this. Are you working over the weekend?”
I could have said yes. There was no such thing as weekends, not in theater-land. But the truth was that I didn’t have to.
I shook my head. “I’m not necessarily working until our opening on Tuesday. This plan of yours—is it something that will take long?” It was true. The cast was in dress rehearsals, starting tonight. The only reason I could possibly have needed to be around was to make sure that the set didn’t fall on someone and crush them to death—which was really more the crew’s responsibility than mine.
“It’s something that will take forty-eight hours, give or take,” he said. “I want to spend them with you. Say yes.”
I tightened. The stubborn ass in me wanted to say no, if only just to retain the small modicum of power I’d managed to gain.
“What if I turn you down?” I asked.
“I’ll ask you again,” Tristan said, his fingers tightening, eyes narrowing. “I’m not going to let you go, Ariana. Whether you know it or not, you’re mine, you see.”
I felt myself trembling, as though a chill had set itself deep in my bones. Good and bad at once, like the warmth of a fire heating me just short of a burn. I was so close to bliss. But if I got any closer, if I tumbled over the edge, it might kill me.
“I’m not so sure I’m yours,” I said, though my tone lacked conviction. I knew the words to be yet another lie. If I hadn’t been his two hours ago, then I was now. Now that he’d claimed me with his mouth. Now that he’d shown me pure pleasure.
I was seriously hooked on Tristan Wolfe.
“Oh, I think you’re sure,” he said, a sly smile curling up the corners of his all-too-sexy mouth.
“Are you mine, then?” I asked, jutting out a hip, teasing him with my curves.
“Body and soul,” he replied. “At least I will be soon.”
“Yeah, about that—I haven’t had your body yet,” I scolded softly. “Haven’t seen what’s under those clothes of yours.”
“If I tell you that you will see all of me this weekend, will that change things?” he asked.
“Possibly,” I said, reaching forward with my right hand. I played with his collar, pulling it away from his skin just enough to see a hint of chest hair. “Probably,” I breathed. “I don’t feel satisfied yet. I want more.”
“You want me inside you,” he said. “You want me to fuck you.”
I nodded. More than you know, I wanted to reply. But I remained silent. Always keeping my cards close to my chest.
“You’ll have everything you desire and more,” he told me. “But first, I need to show you who I am, and that will take some time and some doing. It’s a complicated matter, you see.”
He pulled away and slipped over to the other side
of his desk. The detachment was a shock, as though he’d unplugged my source of energy. It all but hurt, and the potential of pain frightened me. It was the same feeling I’d had at Carlotta’s a couple of nights earlier, when my body had responded viscerally to our separation. Once again I felt the power that he had over me. Once again, I felt frightened by my own weakness.
“Normally,” he continued, “if you were just any woman I was dating, I might suggest that we go out somewhere in this city. But you aren’t just any woman, which is why I want you to come with me to my retreat.”
I tried to ignore the jealousy that was eating away at my soul, now that he’d reminded me of the other women he’d been with. I didn’t want to think about the models I’d seen in photos with him. Didn’t want to think about the smiles that must have been plastered on their faces as he drove his cock inside them.
I didn’t want to think he’d ever been with anyone else.
“Retreat?” I asked, masking my envy with a look of curiosity. “Now, that sounds mysterious.”
“Good. I like mystery. I’ll pick you up at your place tomorrow morning. Let’s say ten.”
I was about to ask him if he needed my address when I remembered that of course he didn’t; he’d come to my building that first night and stood outside like a horny stalker.
“Okay then,” I said. I wanted to ask him so many questions. To find out who he was, really. I didn’t want to wait until tomorrow. I wanted it all. Now. “Tristan…”
“Yes?”
“Nothing,” I replied, offering him a withering smile. In the end, I lacked the courage I’d always tried so hard to project. It terrified me how attracted I was to him. How much I still wanted to be near him. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
“I’m looking forward to it more than you know.” He reached over and grabbed the paperwork off the desk, holding it out towards me. “Take this with you,” he said. “I want you to at least think about it.”
“Fine,” I replied, rolling the deed up and cramming it into my purse. “I’ll think about it.”
Alpha’s Hunger Box Set: Books 1-3 Page 6