Second Chances: A Romance Writers of America Collection (Stark World 2.50)

"I was. I just excel at hiding my feelings. It's a useful skill in my business. Gives me the advantage in negotiations."

"Oh. Are we negotiating?"

He chuckles. "We already did. That's why you agreed to my terms."

"Because of your amazing business skills?"

"That," he says. "And because you want me as much as I want you."

"Blake--"

He shakes his head, silencing me. "I wanted tonight to color in the black and white lines of my memory. I wanted to have it so I could hold onto it and know--even if you would never admit it out loud--that whether or not you're with me, you still belong to me."

I swallow, his words touching my soul.

He smiles thinly, then lifts his hand to wipe away the words as he visibly gathers himself. "At any rate, that's what I was thinking." He sighs. "I'm sorry I came off as an ass." He starts to slide out of the booth. "Come on. I'll take you to your apartment."

"No," I blurt, the word forced out by that pressure in my chest. "I want to stay."

He tilts his head to one side, studying me. "Do you?" I hear the interest--and the hope--in his voice. "Why?"

"Because I hear the food is excellent." I lick my lips, then look hard at him. "But I understand the service is even better."

HE'S DRIVING ME ABSOLUTELY crazy.

His fingers have slipped under those expensive, delicate panties and are stroking and teasing me. His other hand is on the tabletop holding mine, as I squeeze tight, trying desperately not to react as I contemplate the martini glasses and smile at passing waiters and pretend as though Blake and I doing nothing more interesting than chatting.

In reality, I'm wet and lost and completely turned on. It's all I can do not to gyrate my hips in an effort to guide his movements. To get a little more pressure, a little more friction.

I'm more aroused than I can ever remember being, and the fact that I'm doing this in public only adds to the excitement. But that's only because of Blake. Because I know he won't push too far. Won't let either one of us turn an intimate moment into a spectacle by crying out or otherwise calling attention to ourselves.

And just when I think I'm going to finally explode, he pulls his hand free, leaving me to groan and whisper, "Dammit, Blake, please."

He chuckles. "Not here, baby. My hotel. And when we get there, I'm going to fuck you so hard. I'm going to claim every inch of you, fully and completely. You think you want to come now? That's nothing. I'm going to make you come over and over until you beg me to stop. And then I'm going to take you there all over again."

I'm practically panting from his words, my sex throbbing, my nipples tight and hard. I take a sip of water, because my mouth is too dry to speak.

And then I do the only thing that makes sense. I raise my hand and signal the waiter to bring us our check.

I'M NAKED; MY WRISTS bound above my head with a luggage strap and Blake's hands on my hips holding me firmly in place as he performs a symphony on my body with his lips and tongue.

First, he teases my breasts, the tip of his tongue flicking over my nipples, one after the other before trailing kisses all the way to my belly button. He's leaving a column of fire, and though I try to squirm, he holds me fast.

With excruciating slowness, he maneuvers even lower, tracing the rim of my pubic bone with his tongue and then kissing along the soft skin at the juncture of each thigh. I tremble with each tiny sensation, longing for more, and at the same time not wanting this sweet torture to end.

Finally, slowly, his tongue laves my clit, and shockwaves rip thr

ough me, the precursors to what I know will be a blinding orgasm.

Not soon, though. Blake is taking his time. And only when I am balancing on the knife-edge for what must be the hundredth time does he finally push, releasing me to explode into a million pieces.

All the while he's holding me firm, unable to escape the onslaught of his attention. I can't shift. Can't lessen the sensation. And when I explode from the force of orgasm after orgasm, I have no choice but to be battered by a pleasure so profound it crosses the line to pain.

"Please," I beg as soon as my mind returns to my body. I'm limp and sated, but still I want more. I want him. "Please fuck me."

He doesn't disappoint, and when he thrusts inside me, every part of me is already so primed that when he climaxes, he takes me with him and I shatter once more, this time with his eyes on mine, and we get lost in the storm together.

After, he pulls me close, and I sigh, contented. I shut my eyes, just for a moment, only to find the sun streaming in when I open them again.