Fingers of light tickled her face, tugging her from dreamless sleep. Her eyes fluttered open to strange surroundings, it took maybe half a second for her to remember – Mt Olympus. She sat up, alone in the large bed. The velvet drapes had been lowered, cocooning her in gloom, but the sun had found its way in through the corners. Pushing aside the drapes, she slid off the bed to the floor. It was cool and smooth under her bare feet, looking down she saw it was glossy solid black stone, shining like polished obsidian in the light streaming in through the wall of windows. Air kissed her skin and she remembered that her feet weren’t the only naked body part.
“Well, Good Morning.”
“Oh..” she grabbed the velvet curtain and wrapped it around her as far as it would go, jumping around to face the owner of that sinful good morning.
Adonis was in the doorway in a white shirt and dark gray slacks, her roving eyes moved up his body to his face. A small smile hovered around his beautiful mouth, his eyes glimmering with secret laughter, watching her struggle with the curtain, “Still shy kitten?”
“Um…well, it’s..uh..breezy.” Oh, that didn’t make her sound like a silly deflowered virgin at all. She gave herself a good mental kick in the pants. Well, not pants as she wasn’t wearing any, but….
The two words in that husky, do-me-now whisper were like a key turning in a lock, swinging a door open, and behind it, were her memories.
Trying to take off her sweater….Oh, shit…
Tony the Tiger impression….Oh, holy shit…
Straddling Adonis’ lap… Oh, holy shitty shit…
Licking his ear…Oh, holly shitty shitty shit.
Then later in the bed…Oh, Holy shitty fucking shitty shit!!!
“Kitten?” The man she’d violated straightened from the doorway with the look of someone waiting for the inevitable explosion he was powerless to prevent. He took one cautious step forward.
“NO!” Her screech stopped him short. While he was still shell-shocked, she dropped the curtain and streaked into the bathroom, slamming the double doors. Turning the lock, she leaned back against them and slid in an embarrassed heap to the floor. The images kept flashing in her mind.
Tie me up, tie you up, lick you all over, giant salami. Oh dear God, Salomi! She didn’t even like salami. Opening her eyes she looked around the bathroom, plenty of space, heated marble floors, and a tub the size of an Olympic pool. Room service to deliver her food so she wouldn’t starve. Yep, she would spend the rest of her life in here.
Damien stood at the door and willed the laughter out of his voice. Somehow he didn’t think it would go over to well, “Andie, baby?”
“Go Away.” Her voice was muffled, like she was covering her face with her hands.
“Everything…Oh God, Everything.” Her words ended on a wail.
Oh, he bet she was beet red and cute as fuck, and damn he was missing it. He had to get her out of that bathroom, “There’s no reason to be embarrassed, kitten.”
“No reason!” Her laugh was a strange combination of a snort, a shout, and a wail, “I practically molested you. You could have me arrested.”
Leaning one shoulder against the door, he crossed his arms over his chest and bit his cheek to keep from laughing, “Yes, I did have to work very hard to protect my virtue.” he couldn’t help it, she was just too damn cute, “You were determined to have your wicked way with me.”
“Oh, God.” The words were muffled, then a sharp gasp, “Stan and Maurice, oh, I’ll never be able to look them in the face again.”
That suited him just fine, but he didn’t want her to feel uncomfortable, “You were drugged sweetheart, and Maurice himself said you were cute as hell.”
“Yes, believe me, I remember.”
“There’s no one here but me,” Deciding to pick his battles, he focused on the present situation, softening his voice to a gentle coax, “Come on out, sweet girl.”
“No. It’s nice in here. I’m thinking of changing my zip code.”
Hmm, stubborn. Time to see if the information he’d gotten from Jose´ this morning was worth the torturous, invasive, downright nosy, fifteen minute phone call.
He threw out his hook, “There’s coffee and fresh croissant.”
This was greeted with a minute of silence followed by a very tiny, reluctant “What kind?”
Ah, a nibble, “Chocolate.”
More silence, then, “Can you leave it in front of the door.”
He didn’t bother to hide his chuckle this time, “No.”
His chuckle turned to a laugh, “No.”
“Fine,” A little huff, and oh he’d bet that came with the sexiest pout, “But just so you know, dangling a girl’s favorite food in front of her is dirty pool.”
“Dirty Pool?” Damn, he was grinning like an idiot, and didn’t give a fuck.
“Dirty.” Haughty sniff. “Pool.” Haughty Sniff. Sniff.
“Hmm, you and I have different applications for that particular term. Perhaps after breakfast, I can show you mine.”
Things on the other side of the door got very, very quiet. He gave it a tap, “You still there, kitten?”
He heard delicate throat clearing, “Yes,” she said, trying for prim, but that was hard to pull off when you were breathless, “I’ll be out shortly.”
“Good, don’t be too long. We don’t want the croissant to cool.”
After a record breaking three minute shower, she towel dried her hair and worked some of that miracle in a tube stuff through it. Exiting the bath, she found jeans and a lovely teal sweater, fuzzy, luxurious wool. There was fresh bra and panties in minty green lace and ankle boots in a soft brown suede. All of it brand new and all of it her size even the panties and bra. A miraculous achievement as she was a petite and finding clothes in her size was always a challenge. Her dress was nowhere in sight so it was the new clothes or bare naked lady. She chose the clothes.
She left the room and followed the smell. That wonderful luscious buttery chocolate smell. Yes, she had a little addiction problem, but everyone was entitled to one vice, and creamy chocolate wrapped in buttery rich pastry was hers.
She entered the kitchen to find a giant plate of Croissant and “Barker?”
“Good morning Miss,” Barker the Butler greeted her and with perfectly proper Butler aplomb,
Presenting her with a silver tray complete with silver coffee pot and another dainty cup already filled with dark fragrant ambrosia and a lovely matching delicate plate with a pile of buttery piping hot croissant.
“Um, when did you get here?”
“This morning. I brought the pastries.” He explained with a courteous smile, lifting the smaller silver pitcher, “Say when.”
She was halfway through her croissant, pulling off a chocolaty chunk from the center and popped it in her mouth.
Ooohsooooogoooood. Closing her eyes in chocolate bliss, she savored sinful, decadent, food perfection.
“I think I’d like to see you do that naked, in my bed, possibly tied up.”
What, what, and what? Her eyes flew open. Barker was nowhere to be seen and Damien was leaning against the counter, his head tilted to the side, watching. His expression thoughtful, he strolled over till he was standing across from her, took the pastry from her hand and pulled off a piece, lifting it to her mouth, “Open up.” Her lips parted and he pushed the pastry between them, his thumb stroking over her bottom lip. “Yes, definitely tied up.”
Holy shit! Her entire body heated, zinging with awareness. Damien walked around the counter, and kept walking until he stood behind her. Leaning over her his scent blended with the chocolate. Her eyes slid closed as his hands slid around her waist and moved up, cupping her breasts, his thumbs flicking her nipples through her top. Still sensitive from his treatment last night, they hardened, fighting the urge to moan and arch into his hands, she couldn’t keep her head from falling back to rest on his chest.
“Arms and legs tied I think,” A heated whisper next to her ear, “Spread out with the morning light streaming across your sweet body…. you eating from my hand..me eating you…Yes, yes, we’ll have to do that soon.”
Oh, Dear Holy Lord. Everything in her turned to liquid heat, she fell into the web he wove with such ease..
“But, unfortunately, not today.” He pulled back and sat next to her, “No time I’m afraid. I’ll have to settle for playing that little fantasy out in my head for now.”
Her deflowered, virgin self had no response. Zero.
“Eat, Andie.” He planted a chaste kiss on the top of her head.
Yes, eat. Eat your pastry and do not think about being helpless in his bead while he… No do not think about that.
“So how are you feeling?” In mesmerized fascination, she watched him pull a croissant apart and and pop a piece in his mouth, chewing slowly. Her mouth went dry. Gods were sexy eaters.
“Andie?” His lips formed a word then twisted up in that half smile. She felt pressure under her chin, “Eyes up, Kitten.”
Blinking herself out of her tie-me-up and-do-me daze, she gave herself another mental kick in the pants. Honestly, she was turning into some raging nympho, “Um..what?”
“How are you feeling?”
Oh, right, “I’m good.”
She could feel her blush creeping up her neck, “A little.”
“And how was last night?”
He leaned forward with a quick nuzzle and a hot whisper in her ear, “Did you like what I did to you?”
What? He couldn’t tell? All the moaning and the screaming and the please, please, pleases didn’t give her away? She cleared her throat, cursed what she knew had to be a flaming blush, and managed a simple, “Yes,” While doing an intense study of the coffee cooling in her cup.
“So did I, very much.” He stood behind her then, pulling her out of her seat, and once again she was lifted. One hand going round his neck the other picking up the little plate holding her coffee and croissant
“I was an early walker.”
“Yes, I walked at Nine months.”
“I’ve been walking for over twenty-two years now.”
“That sounds about right.”
“So I’m pretty good at it.”
“I’m sure.” But if she walked he wouldn’t get to feel her fingers tickling the back of his neck and it felt just so damn good. He was reluctant to set her down, but he needed to see honest reactions, so he placed her back in that corner of the couch and covered her with the throw. Immediately her hands began to fiddle with the fringe.
“Would you like more coffee?”
Pressing a kiss to her forehead, “Coming right up,” He grabbed her cup and went to the kitchen, having sent Barker on his way. Refilling her cup from the pot Barker had left behind he remembered their conversation that first morning through his closet door, and then while pouring in the cream he recalled their conversation this a.m. through the bathroom door. He’d enjoyed both of them immensely. Hell, he enjoyed her. Every quirky, funny, sexy, sweet, stubborn inch of her. She’d had him floundering and off balance since he’d met her, but damn, grabbing another croissant, he had to admit, floundering or not he liked it. He liked it a hell of a lot.
“Here you go,” her handed her the cup she cupped it in her hands.
“About that night. Before, you said the interviews got mixed up.”
“Uh, what kind of interview takes place at a sex club?”
Aaaaaawwwww shit. He’d been hoping she’d forgotten about that. “It’s complicated.”
“I don’t date.”
Her cup stopped halfway to her mouth, she blinked at him, “Huh?”
“I don’t date.”
“But you’re seen with all those women.”
“They attend the functions with me and we go our separate ways.”
“I’ve had relationships in the past. I was even engaged once. It didn’t work out. I broke it off and the woman sold her story to every tabloid she could find.”
The cup landed in the saucer with a clatter, “She didn’t!”
“What a skank.”
“I learned a valuable lesson. After that, I decided to have a more straight forward relationship.”
“Basically, I find someone who enjoys the same things I do sexually.”
“Sexually?” The cup landed in the suacer again, ” Holy Crap! That’s what you were doing at the sex club. That’s what the interview was for….Oh…oh my God, it’s just like the book. You were interviewing for a submissive.”
“That Fifty Shades book.”
“I’m not familiar with…”
“Oh it’s all about a kinky billionaire and a lovely literary student. He’s a Dom and she’s innocent, but very wise. They have lots of kinky sex, fall in love, and live happily ever after.”
“Ah. Right.” That didn’t sound too bad. “I’m not a Dom, not technically. I don’t practice the Dom/Sub lifestyle….” He found the role too restrictive, but telling her that would sure as shit send her running, “The people involved with that world are accustomed to contractual arrangements.” And the safe word formula had come in handy more than once.
“Contractual agreements?” Her voice cracked, her lovely face faded to ashen.
Ashen wasn’t good, “In a manner of speaking…. yes.”
“So you sign contracts…” She said it slowly as if the words pained her.
Not a good sign. “Yes…”
“Instead of having relationships.” In that Same slow whisper, then “It really is like the book.”
That last part wasn’t so much said as muttered under her breath, but he heard it and damn it all to hell and back, that book was kicking his ass. He needed to read the thing and figure out how to get to the happy ending because this sure as shit wasn’t it.
She was silent, not meeting his eyes, her white knuckled fingers twisting the fringe on that throw.
This was bad. He had to fix it, but he couldn’t for the life of him see how. Panic rising in his throat, he watched her set her coffee cup down and toss the throw aside. Rising, she walked to his end of the sofa and stood in front of him, her eyes searching his face. So huge, so blue, so….sad.
Sad. Oh Christ! That was sadness in her eyes. She was going to leave. He was going to lose her. A fist gripped his chest. His heart was racing.
Fix it fix it fix it you idiot.
Nothing. He had nothing. He couldn’t think. Hell, he couldn’t breathe.
And then all of a sudden, without uttering a word, she climbed into his lap.
No response. She just warpped her arms around his neck, lay her head on his shoulder. her side to his front, her legs stretched out on the sofa and and…. just sat there.
What the hell?
Whatever she was doing, she wasn’t leaving him. Damien wrapped his arms around her and held on. Her hair tickled his nose. Her fidgeting fingers tickled his neck. She felt soft and warm, and so fucking right. The fist in his chest loosened. He closed his eyes and breathed her in, reveling in the sweet torture of having her in his arms.
Finally, a tiny whisper floated up to him, “Mt. Olympus must be an awfully lonely place.”
The gently spoken words relieved, soothed, disturbed, and confused him. Damn, she’d done it again, “Are you saying you think I’m lonely, kitten?”
She tightened her arms around his neck, “I know you are.”
“Do you now?” Was he? He’d never thought about it.
“So,” One hand came up under her chin lifting her face to his, “What are you planning to do about it.” His eyes searched hers.
“I don’t have a plan,” She pulled back slightly, her eyes skittering away, “Honeslty, Damien, I’m completely at sea.”
A harsh bark of laughter escaped him, “You’re not alone. I’ve been treading water since the moment we met.”
“Well, just so you know, that whole Contract/Mistress thing is out. I’d feel like a floozy from a bad Victorian Romance.”
“Kitten, you’ll have to explain that one.” And damn, he couldn’t wait to hear this.
“Romance novels. There are all kinds, you know, not just kinky billionaires. Some are set in Victorian England. There’s always a floozy.”
He bit back his smile, “A Victorian floozy seems incongruous.”
“There is always a sexually experienced femme fatale. She wears sexy satin gowns in screaming red, cut so low her boobs practically fall out….”
“Really?” He bit his cheek. He couldn’t laugh now.
“Yes, and she tries to hold on to the handsome Earl or Baron or whatever with a bunch of sleazy sex tricks.”
Sleazy sex…. he needed to read some of these books. “What kind?”
“Oh, I don’t know, swinging from chandeliers and stuff.”
“Right.” He didn’t laugh, but tucked under his chin like she was, she couldn’t see his mouth so he allowed himself the smile.
“But the Baron/Earl falls in love with the poor, beautiful heroine who lives one estate over. They meet when she steals his peaches.”
“From his prize winning orchard. She bakes him a pie. He falls in love.”
“I will not be the red satin-wearing, Booby-Floozy in my own romance scenario.”
He couldn’t resist. “Are you sure? I think I’d like to see some of those sex tricks.”
He got an eye roll and a snort for his cheek, “I’m sure.”
“So you read a lot of romances?”
“No, after Sleeping Beauty, they’re all disappointing.”
“You like that story?”
“I loved the Disney Movie. I always wanted a bed like that, a four poster with vines and thorns and…”
“The vines were thorny.”
And he was lost again, but it was a hell of a fun trip, “What vines?”
“Oh” She blew out one of those huffing puffs, her face blooming cherry red, “You don’t care.”
He was speaking the absolute truth when he said, “Kitten, I’m fascinated.”
“Okay.” Her sideways glare was loaded with suspicion but she relented, “When the evil fairy queen cast her spell she surrounded the castle with vines. I always liked the vines. They were beautiful and terrible and majestic. In the end the curse is broken and the vines die. It made me sad. I don’t think love is like that. Anything that beautiful has to have thorns.” She let go a huge sigh, “I’m not making sense.”
She was making a great deal of sense.
Andie jumped at Simon’s voice coming from… somewhere.
“Yes,” Drake pulled his phone from his shirt pocket.
“Mr. Perez is here.”
“Fine, yes, send him up.”
“Oh, dear lord.” Andie groaned, pulling herself out of Damien’ arms, “He’s going to be relentless.”
“Hmm..yes,” Damien’s hands still around her waist yanked her back down, somehow managed to position her so she was straddling his lap, facing him.
“Damien,” She tried to pull back but his arms held her tight.
“You’re leaving me.” He growled the words into her neck, one hand moving to grasp her hip.
“Uh… well I have to pack. We’re leaving for…oh…” Her words died when he moved her just slightly so that the hard length of him met her in just the right place. Her head dropped forward, her arms going around his neck, she buried her fingers in his hair.
He rolled his hips up into her, “I’m going to call you tonight.”
“Alright,” Her hips rolled over him.
“We’ll talk more about this.” His lips and teeth raked down her neck.
“Yes,” She breathed the word on a pant, the pleasure built, “Damien, Jose´’…”
“It will take him three minutes. You’ll come in under two.”
Had she said that out loud?
“I want you with me, Andie.” He surged up.
“I won’t be acquired, Damien.” She pushed down. Her body winning the war easily. Fine. Two minutes. Okay.
“So what do you want?”
“What do you mean?”
“When you see yourself with someone what do you see?”
“Oh, I don’t know, dinner, movies, popcorn…”
“All right, then. I’ll pick you up tonight we’ll go to the movies.” The surges became quick thrusts.
Both hands on her hips now, controlling her movements, rocking her over him.
Her hands tightened in his hair, “I can’t..tonight…I have to pack.
Strong hands held her above him when she would have ground down. She strained against his hold, wet heat sliding from her. I leave early tomorrow for my Grandmother’s.”
Ah, God, how could he do this to her so quickly? She was panting, her breasts swollen.
She was wet and aching and wanted him inside her
“I’ll call you.” He whispered the words against her neck, his breathing harsh.
“Oh,…ah God…” The fluttering started deep inside.
One hand left her hip and grabbed her hair at the base of her neck, forcing her face to his, “Look at me Andie,”
She opened her eyes and looked into his, the spasms started, the pleasure broke, “You’re coming..”
“Yes…” The word ended on a groan, as wave after wave of sensation rolled lazily through her.
“This is what I do to you…”
“Yes…” rich and heavy over and over, making her weak.
“You’ll think of this every day, every night. What I do to you” His hands still guiding her, he lowered her allowing her to grind down on him like she’d been aching to do, keeping his eyes locked with hers. It was lush, sinful and so very good.
“Yes..yes…..” The gasping words became a chant.
“Your mine, Andie, your body knows me,” His eyes fierce on hers, his hands gripping her, holding her down on him, drawing out the spasms pulsing through her, “You’ll remember.”