Kept by Him

  A week of this and she’d probably no longer cringe when another man put his hands on her. When Roland begged to get her back, she would be able to kiss him without seizing up inside.

  In fact, he was going to flip with the new and improved version of Monica Davenport when he saw her at the gala—where they were supposed to “talk” once more. He’d wanted her to decide whether she really wanted to be with him, and she had loathed to see him so hurt the last time they’d attempted to have sex. She had methodically decided that she did want him; he was perfect for her, and she was going to prove it to him with Daniel’s help.

  The phone trilled, and the doorman alerted her he was on his way up to her penthouse. Flutters spread through her system as she went to pour wine, dismayed to find that she had to take a quick drink for courage.

  Ding.

  Holding her breath, she turned as he stepped out of the elevator, and at her first sight of him, her body felt as charged as though she’d gotten a shot of adrenaline straight in her veins. Flutters exploded in her stomach.

  Clad in a dark black gabardine that made his hair look even blonder, the tousled sun-lightened streaks calling her fingers, he was a walking, talking sex bomb. “Wow. Did you fly here?” she said teasingly, feeling warm inside when he smiled.

  “I was actually down in the lobby all day, waiting for your summons.” He dropped his coat on the coat stand, and he was wearing no tie. His hair was in disarray, his face incredibly sexy with that slow smile that made her lungs burn, and she had forgotten how incredibly low and rich his voice was.

  She signaled to the wine she’d poured for him. “Wine?”

  “Don’t mind if I do,” he said, and he lifted the goblet and sipped, his eyes raking her form.

  She had never been more aware of how revealing her night dress was. White and whispery as a breath, it displayed her body underneath almost as if she were completely nude to him. Every inch of her hips, her curves, her belly button, could be seen. Her hair was loose, falling in perfect waves past her shoulders, but the tips did nothing to cover the tips of her breasts, and her nipples tightened visibly through the material.

  His expression tonight was not as playful as yesterday, she realized with a rapidly pumping heart. It was dead serious and somber, and his eyes shone with a new predatory gleam when they finished their foray of her body and returned to hers. Her chest tightened painfully hard. He’d seen her naked. He’d penetrated her with his fingers. He’d come in her hand. The blood thrummed through her veins, slowly and powerfully going to her sex, her breasts, tightening her skin.

  “I couldn’t sleep,” she said, for lack of anything else to say, for lack of the courage to tell him, Do me! Do me! Do me now!

  His green gaze literally ate her up as he took another drink, then he set it aside. “So the little princess needs to be tucked in.”

  “It was either you or valerian.”

  “He sounds old and definitely not straight, princess.”

  “It’s an herb,” she said, laughing.

  A full toe-curling smile flashed, and he reached out to rub his fingers along the bottom bow of her peignoir. He stared at her mouth with undisguised hunger, and she stared at his in return, her heart beating with wild tension. Her voice came out a croak. “I’m really nervous this time.”

  There was a lengthened silence, both of them standing utterly still, then Daniel cupped her neck in his big hand, the slow stroke of his thumb sending shivers down her skin. “It’s just me,” he murmured, and he slowly reeled her in, until her breasts were grazing sensually against his chest, his erection nestled between her legs, his eyes were so dilated they were almost black.

  His finger slid up and down her cleavage, where the fabric had parted. Then it slid higher to seize her chin and keep her gaze focused on his face, raw with desire. “I like you with your hair down. You look soft and inviting.” The raw male lust in his eyes caressed her like his words, and her body responded, her nipples visibly erect and poking into the flimsy material of her peignoir just as his eyes dropped to take them in again. “And I like what you’re wearing, too.”

  Trembling to her bones, she pulled his shirt free from the waistband of his dress slacks and began to slowly unbutton it. “Are you going to make me take it off, or will you do it?”

  His eyes glimmered, and her breaths became uneven as he bent his head. “Whatever the lady wants.” Her stomach clenched in needy anticipation as his lips grazed hers, just a whisper. Her breath tangled in her throat when they grazed hers again, then his hands slid into the mass of her hair as he spoke, his voice getting thicker and thicker. “Are you just mine to play with for now … or are you planning to be friendly with anyone else?”

  He sounded possessive. Extremely possessive. Ecstasy trembled through her and she didn’t know why, but she slid her hands up his hard abdomen and eased his shirt off his powerful shoulders. “Just you. All my other special friends were busy.”

  “Ahhh. Then I’m so glad I passed on all those other offers, too.”

  She didn’t laugh. She couldn’t. Instead she felt a wave of jealousy rise within her, followed by a harsh wave of longing so intense that she couldn’t wait a single second more wondering what his lips felt like. She’d wondered at nineteen … at twenty … at twenty-one.… She wondered now what would have happened if she hadn’t been so afraid of what she felt.…

  It felt right to wrap her arms around his neck and set her mouth on his lips, like she’d spent years waiting for it, as right as breathing. He was motionless as though afraid she would reject him again, so she dared to lick his lips as soon as she could, and he shuddered, a tremor rushing along his muscled body. Suddenly he parted open and the kiss became his, and he took control of it so fiercely her senses spun.

  Her head fell back under the onslaught, sustained only by his fists on her hair, his lips firm and pressing hers apart so his tongue could probe her, taste her. She hadn’t expected the taste of his kiss to release such a deep need inside her, but her entire body was shaken with tremors when he grabbed her closer to his hard body and pushed her lips apart even wider.

  Her brain shut down as he roughly suckled the flesh of her lower lip into his mouth, and she couldn’t help but go inside his mouth, greedy and thirsty. He groaned; she loved it. Felt it in her core, her womb.

  She’d never kissed anyone so primitively, so instinctively. He tasted indescribably male. Dark, somehow, like espresso. He dragged his mouth to her ear, his voice like she had never heard it before.

  “Come here and let me enjoy my new toy, Monica.”

  He gripped her waist in his big hands and lifted her in the air until her breasts were on his mouth. He nipped one nipple with his lips, the flimsy peignoir proving no barrier against his sudden kiss, the dampness of his mouth. A moan rose unbidden within her as he turned to nip the other one.

  His mouth engulfed it with the fabric and everything, and her senses honed in on his heat, his tongue … all of her mind became engaged at once. A tremor rushed through her, her body aloft in the air, her only contact to this earth were his hands on her waist and the burning heat of his mouth, going from one nipple, to the other, dampening her through the fabric. Her pussy was on fire.

  She felt, almost in slow motion, as he started lowering her, her partly naked body sliding down the length of his to feel the forceful strength of his chest, the iron bulge of his erection.

  Unwilling to let go, her legs curled and tightened around his hips before she hit the floor, her arms tight around his neck as she pressed her face into his. “You know, I have a bed,” she whispered, and he filled his hands with the firm flesh of her bottom, anchoring her to him as he carried her across the hall in the most rousingly sexy thing any man had ever done for her. “The last room,” she murmured breathlessly.

  He smelled good, so good she wanted to bury her nose in his neck, his hair. He set her at the edge of the mattress and spread open her peignoir with almost brusque, eager hands, and her blood surg
ed at his touch, from her fingertips to her toes.

  His blond head was bent as he unfastened one more string tied around her middle, his eyelashes two half moons against his cheekbones, his lips perfection. Full and fleshy, perfectly formed. She creamed as he inched back and tossed the flimsy nightgown aside, Monica naked for his perusal.

  Quietly engrossed with his expression of pure, unabashed lust, she watched him stroke an open hand up her stomach, then he circled his thumb around her belly button before he bent to lick.

  Her breasts became heavy and swollen, the nipples straining pink and forward, and then Daniel set one slow, dry kiss on each wanton nipple tip. She was so aroused by the time he lifted his head, he could’ve set off a thousand fireworks inside her the very instant he penetrated her.

  With heavy-lidded eyes, he gazed down at the apex between her legs, parting them nimbly with his hands, surveying the pink petals already glistening with arousal. “No problems making mental lists now, do we…?” he murmured.

  He touched her slick lips with his fingertip, the touch sending new spirals of bliss surging through her.

  She was aware of the fabric of his shirt caressing his skin as he moved, the way his cock pressed a bulge into his pants and almost touched her at the knee. She noticed the pair of candles she’d lit on her nightstands and suddenly felt like she flickered on the inside, deep inside, like them, slowly burning for him.

  She watched him stand back and work on his belt. Him. Prince of the Windy City. She remembered him coming apart for her. Climaxing all raw and undone. In his clothes. Under her hand.

  It hurt to remember, and she squirmed, her breathing suddenly going fast and needy as he pushed off his dark dress slacks, designer belt and all.

  Her eyes blurred at the sight of his erection. Every square of his abdomen was perfect, his navel smooth and flat as it led to a blond thatch of curls, a shade darker than his hair, from where he rose magnificently upward. Her nipples became hard as diamonds, the flesh of her sex swelling as she watched him reach to the nightstand and pull out an ice cube shaped like a half moon from a glass of water she’d brought to her bedroom just after texting him.

  Anticipation made her heart thunder as she watched him slide it into his mouth. Weak, she fell back on the bed as he bent over her, one of his knees wedged between both her thighs, his arms folded at the sides of her head. She shuddered when their lips locked and he passed the ice to her, hot and cold and liquid, into her mouth. Sensations rushed through her as their tongues worked around the ice to taste each other.

  He drew it back from her with a gentle suckle, then took it in his fingers and set it down on one hard nipple, circling. She gasped, a chilling pleasure lancing through her. “Ohh.”

  He did the same with the other nipple, watching with tenderly violent green eyes that ate her up like he could survive on the vision of her getting all worked up with arousal.

  She bucked as the cold clashed with the heat inside her, creating a powerful combo that caused all the cells in her body to burst awake to the sensations. Her hands fisted on the bed sheets at her sides as a shiver raced, hot and cold, down her spine. “Ohhhhh.”

  Following the ice, he bent his head and gently suckled, warming her cooled nipple with his mouth for one long, heady minute, before the ice returned. She clamped her teeth and tossed her head back, her pussy creaming in relentless need as the ice made contact with the heated flesh of her nipples again. “Are you thinking of anything … but the way the ice melts into your skin?” His voice was so rough, she hardly understood him.

  The ice left a wet path down her stomach, and she was so fevered, she could see it melt as he guided it lower, lower, until he caressed the slit of her pussy with it.

  She gasped when it circled her clit, the cool moisture contrasting with the burning heat of her body, shocking her system so she felt breathless and desperate, tunneling her fingers through his silken hair.

  Daniel brought the melting ice cube back to his mouth. It was coated with her juices, and he suckled on it as he came back to kiss her, where it finally melted into water in their mouths.

  He reached for her hands and stretched her arms out over her head, stroking his thumbs deeply into her open palms, almost in a fucking motion that drove her deeper and deeper into mindless lust.

  “Are you thinking of anything right now? Except wanting to be filled with this…?” He teased his cock along her slit, rubbing in sinuous temptation against her soaked entrance.

  His hands slid down her arms fast and urgently, cupping the mounds of her breasts, then clenching her thighs wider apart with his fingers.

  There was urgency thrumming inside her, desperate urgency, desperate need. She could feel it in the chatter of her teeth, the tremors lacing to her extremities. She could feel it in him, too, as the head of his erection roughly slid back and forth across her folds, his face tight as he watched her face melt with what he did to her.

  Monica didn’t want him to see how badly she was drowning in this … but she had no strength to pretend.… She didn’t know who this woman was, but this woman whimpered and curled her legs around Daniel’s hips like she thought he belonged to her. This woman was digging her ankles into his backside as she bit his neck and sucked a mouthful of tight, salty tasting skin into her mouth, urging him with a deep moan that sent a tremor through his big body.

  “Damn, you’re hot,” he said gutturally, and smoothly fitted his mouth to hers, his kiss so deep and thorough her lips tingled when he went lower to torture her neck and collarbone. She raked her fingers along his back as a painful ache throbbed within her, squeezing and clenching, making her twist to him to get closer.

  He’d awakened something inside her, and she didn’t have the mind for anything else now. All day, every second, she’d been having sex with this man in her head.…

  “Please, I want to know what it feels like to come with a man inside me…,” she begged, tugging at the flesh of his earlobe with her teeth.

  He growled and took her lips in a sexually arresting kiss that left her breathless and panting. When he tore free, his eyes were dark green flames, looking down on her as he tore open a condom packet. “Any man, or your new fuck buddy?”

  She felt him prod her with the tip of his erection as soon as it was fully sheathed, and her pussy clenched in desperate anticipation. “You, Daniel. You…,” she moaned.

  He edged an inch into her and withdrew as she gasped in welcome. “You like that?”

  She was breathless, drowning in his eyes, in his strong body, undulating so he would please push himself inside her. “Daniel…,” she began, not knowing what to say, her brain foggy with desire.

  He swiped his tongue around the peak of one breast, then blew air across the moistened crest. “Tell me how much you like that,” he said.

  Her skin prickled pleasurably when he repeated this delicious torture with her other nipple, and she mewed faintly and rolled her head. “Daniel…”

  “So you want to come like this?” His hands clenched on hers as he braced up on his muscled arms, entered her briefly with the head of his cock and withdrew.

  A pulsing knot of need tightened in her core, his merciless teasing shooting ripples of need across her system. “Yes. Yes, please.”

  “Do you want this?”

  He thrust his cock fully inside her, making her whimper at the complete penetration, stretching her taut so that she twisted beneath him. “Yes!”

  He withdrew, his chest heaving, a wild pulse fluttering at his thick throat. “Tell me you want it.”

  “I want it.”

  He thrust back inside her the instant she said that, and her moan was drowned out by his growl of pleasure.

  Nothing in her life had prepared her for the way she would feel when he penetrated her. He was big. Bigger than anyone before him. Almost too big. He moved with expert precision, his hips rocking into her, every inch of her insides stretched around him, gripping him greedily, almost screaming in agony every time
he pulled out.

  She’d never thought she’d be the kind of woman to whimper like he made her whimper, breathless, gripping him to her so that he wouldn’t stop.

  Her lashes felt heavy, but she fought the urge to close her eyes out of a sheer, soul-consuming need to watch his face contort in ecstasy as he came again. He was taking her there, higher and higher with every gut-wrenchingly delicious stroke, and she frantically urged him with her hands, with the fast movements of her hips. She wanted not to miss it when he climaxed … this time he would climax inside her … how would his face break when he climaxed inside her?

  Suddenly he increased the tempo and drew back to watch her, their only union his long shaft, sliding into her heat, in and out, in and out, until he plunged to the hilt and stayed, and she felt the powerful jerks of his ejaculation within her sheath.… As soon as she saw that look on his face, harsh and completely undone, a crazy explosion of colors and convulsions rushed through her, until she was limp beneath him and thoroughly boneless.

  Minutes after, he made a deep, rumbling sound of protest as though he didn’t want to move but had to, and he grabbed a tissue from the nightstand to pull off the condom and wad it inside, then he set it aside and slumped facedown beside her.

  Sprawled on the bed on her back, Monica was still panting, still burning and in pain. It had been torture, sweet, but torture all the same, to think of this all day. She’d worried he’d be busy tonight, that she’d made a mistake, that she should do it just one more time, that she should never do it again, all her emotions had come to the forefront, all her insecurities from years of trying not to wonder what it felt like to really let go with a man.

  She’d known she’d never be able to let go with anyone if she didn’t trust them … and she only trusted Daniel. Daniel. Maybe this arrangement couldn’t last long term, but Monica couldn’t think about that, when his skin glistened with sweat beside her, when her heart still thundered, when she felt both feverish and vulnerable and aching for his touch and his desire.