Lap of Luxury (Love Don't Cost a Thing)

“I think she’s very beautiful, too. Excuse us, Navarro. A lovely evening.” Damir steers me to the door.

“Damir, what are we doing?”

“We’re leaving.”

I have dozens of questions, but I doubt Damir is going to answer any of them. Whatever he’s planning, I’m starting to doubt the wisdom of it if Navarro can trigger Damir’s anger with just a few words.

As we sit in the back of the boat as Boris speeds us back to the yacht, I turn our conversation over in our mind. Damir’s figured out what makes me tick, and he’ll use it against me to get exactly what he wants. But he’s shown me his hand, too. What Damir craves the most in the world is loyalty. So all I have to do to make him hate me, is betray him.

Chapter Eighteen

Damir

Bethany seems pensive as I help her out of the speedboat and back onto the yacht. The night breeze is ruffling her hair, and the diamonds around her throat sparkle in the moonlight. As I catch her gaze and stroke a forefinger down her breastbone, her lower lip softens with the need to be kissed.

She looks exactly as my woman should. Spoiled and horny.

I lean close and murmur, “You were such a good girl tonight.”

Suddenly she’s as needy as an alley cat, and all she can do is bite her lip and nod, desperation filling her gaze. I want her again so badly that my balls are aching. As soon as we’re alone in my cabin she fastens her arms around my neck and tries to pull me toward the bed.

I resist her. “Beds are for girls who know how to behave at parties.”

“But you said I was a good girl.”

“In front of Navarro. But are you forgetting that you nearly let someone lead you off by the hand? Because I haven’t. Go and lean over that desk and pull your dress up.” She does as she’s told. “Pull down your underwear and spread your legs. I want to see what’s mine.”

She slides her thong down her thighs and steps out of it, leaving her heels on. What a fucking picture she makes. Her sex is the prettiest shade of pink.

I palm her bare flesh appreciatively, and dip down to slide my fingers between her pussy lips. Her burning hot flesh is dripping for me. “Goddamn, princesa. You’re soaking wet.”

She moans and pushes back against my hand, her eyes almost closed as she turns around to look at me. I unzip, and take my length in my hand, hot and heavy with need for her. As I penetrate her tight little core, she runs her tongue over her top lip, and I know she’s been craving me all evening

.

“Is this what you want?” I ask, thrusting hard and deep. She grabs hold of the sides of the desk as I force her forward. “Is this what you were hoping for when you let that kretin nearly lead you away? You’re playing a dangerous game, Bethany.”

I pound her mercilessly, and I can feel her pussy tightening around me. She clamps down on me so hard that I have to lean my whole weight on her to go on fucking her as she comes. I grab a fistful of her hair, because she’s not going to relax until I’ve had my fill of her.

“I do love to play,” she gasps, pressing her hands against the wall and leaning back against me. I fucking lose it at that, coming deep inside her, my thighs pressed tight against her peachy ass.

Woozily, still breathing hard, we strip off our clothes and fall into bed. Bethany’s fingers run all over my torso, as if she can’t get enough of touching me. I kiss her fiercely, unable to get enough of her, either.

“What are we doing with Navarro? You have some plan in mind. Tell me what it is.”

I look at her through lazily narrowed eyes. She wants to know, but that doesn’t mean I owe an explanation. “Go to sleep.”

“Tell me about Nataša.”

“She was my sister.”

“Yes, you said.” I feel Bethany sit up on her elbow. “What happened to her?”

I stroke Bethany’s beautiful dark hair back from her face. Her green eyes gleam in the dim light. Perhaps I’ll tell her part of the truth. A little bedtime story for my princesa. “She was older than me, younger than Mikhail. We were close.”

The day our mother died, she held out her hand for Mikhail, calling him to her side. Her Misha. Nataša was lying on the bed beside the wreck of the woman that had been our mother. It was just me left standing at the bottom of the bed, alone. Nataša was the one who got up and came to me. It was Nataša who held me. Mikhail didn’t even notice.

“She was promised by my father to Georgios Navarro when she was fifteen years old. They decided between them that it was good for our families. Navarro promised her the Navarro family jewels as a wedding gift. Gold, rubies and diamonds. A necklace. A tiara. Bracelets. Earrings and rings. Very old, and very beautiful. My poor little sister only got to wear them once, at the engagement dinner.”