“If I knew then, standing in front of you for the first time, that I was captured, caught, royally f**ked, then don’t tell me now that I’m not. Don’t stand there with a guard around your heart and your memories and tell me that I’m not still caught up in the person who stole my heart and ran f**king marathons with it.”
“Fuck you and your memories.”
“And f**k you and your defiance, Dayton. Just for five goddamn minutes, surrender control. Let me in.”
I draw in a deep breath. No, no. My job is the epitome of control. Every detail of my life—controlled My orgasms—controlled Every. Fucking. Thing.
“No.” I push back into the glass harder.
Aaron’s hand slides to my side and undoes my zipper. He tugs the dress down roughly until it’s pooled at my feet and my bare skin is against the cold glass.
“You can surrender by choice or I can make you,” he whispers in my ear. “Either way, you’re coming tonight.”
“People could see me. Probably can,” I breathe unnecessarily. We’re so f**king high up that the only thing that would have a chance at seeing me is the International Space Station.
“Yet the only person who will see your face as you come is me.” Aaron kisses down my jaw, and I tilt my head back. Fucking wine. Fucking job. Fucking—
His lips take mine in a deliciously rough way. I grab his collar and hold him against me, kissing him with the same fervor he’s kissing me with. Fuck. I’m kissing him so desperately that I’m practically begging for him to make me come right now.
His fingers trail down my body, curving over my br**sts and sliding down my stomach to the top of my underwear. He runs his finger beneath the material and around to my ass. He cups it tightly, pulling me forward so I can feel how turned on he is. So I can feel the hard length of him against me.
My clit throbs and my pu**y aches at the feel of him against me, and his fingers trailing around the top of my thigh sure as shit aren’t helping.
Sense says that I need to push him off of me and lock myself in the bedroom, but my body has taken over. It’s telling me that I need him and the release he can give me.
“Fucking hell. Dayton.” My name is a harsh hiss when his fingers creep beneath the material of my panties. I gasp at the touch of him against me and push my hips into him. Gently, slowly, he pushes two fingers inside me and small cry leaves me.
I’ve forgotten what it’s like to be touched by someone who cares about more than their own pleasure. What it’s like to have lips against your neck, a hand flat against your back, fingers stroking and slipping into your aching pu**y. What it’s like to have someone touch you for you.
Aaron pushes his lips against mine as he curls his fingers inside me. His thumb flicks across my clit with each movement of his wrist, sending pleasure ricocheting through me.
“You’re so wet,” he murmurs against my lips. “And it’s for me. Isn’t it?”
I gasp and claw at his back as a wave flows through me.
“Dayton.” He nips my neck. “Answer the question?”
“The…what? Oh god.”
He pushes his thumb down hard on my clit. “This. How wet you are. It’s all for me, isn’t it?”
I want to grit my teeth even as I moan loudly. “Yes.”
“Say it.”
“Can’t.” Oh f**k. Wave after wave floods my body, pushing me to the edge, and he stops. Takes his hand. Fucking bastard. I’m teetering on the edge of a runaway oblivion.
“Say it.” He rubs my clit to make his point.
I thread my fingers into his hair. “Yes. It’s for you. I’m wet for you, Mr. Stone.”
“Fuck.” He plunges his fingers back into me and I ride his hand until I’m over the edge, blinded by heat and pleasure. Thrashing against him and crying out into his shoulder. Holding him to me and squeezing his fingers inside me with everything I have.
And he never lets go. He stands there, his fingers curved inside, his thumb pressing my clit, and waits until I calm.
I open my eyes to his. He takes his comecovered fingers and slides his hand over my hip to my ass.
“I forgot how devastatingly beautiful you look when you’re coming apart in my arms.”
I hold his gaze, mine never wavering, never flitting away, never doing anything but returning the intensity coming from the brilliant blue of his eyes. “That was your reminder.”
“Oh no, Dayton. That wasn’t a reminder. That was only the beginning.”
Chapter Eight
I flinch at the sharp tear across my skin and mutter a few choice words. Fuckshitcrapouch! The young esthetician looks at me apprehensively, and I cover my eyes with my hand.
“I’m a wimp. Ignore me.”
That earns a small smile. She spreads some more wax onto my skin, and I grit my teeth because I know this one is gonna hurt. The sides always do. Tear. Wax. Tear. Each strip gets another hiss of breath, a curse, a punch to the bed.
“Do this quickly. I mean it. Whip it off,” I beg as she applies the wax to the very back of my core, right by my ass.
“Absolutely, Miss Black.” She’s as good as her word. The wax barely dries before she rips it off with the vigor of a mother pulling a Band-Aid from a screaming child.
“Sonofa…” I bite my tongue and kick my heels against the bed.
Brazilians. Fucking hate them.
“Thank you.” I smile at the girl, albeit a tight one, and wrap a fluffy robe around me. Sweet god. My legs bend into a half-squat position and I do an odd half twerk. The tender, itchy feeling I always experience after… I let out a long breath. I really need to invest in laser hair removal.
I walk through the spa barefoot to the private elevator that will take me to the presidential suite. The Cheshire Hotel is easily the most exclusive and expensive I’ve ever stayed in. It’s obvious in everything. The décor, the furniture, the way the staff treats their well-dressed, well-mannered, good-looking clients.
Aaron and I certainly got star treatment.
Australia is hotter than I imagined it would be in March, and although I’m not short of clothes to wear, nothing seems light enough. And what is light enough is courtesy of Agent Provocateur. Not suitable for public viewing.
I shrug off the robe and step into my underwear. Nothing in my suitcase is even remotely appealing to wear in this unexpected heat wave. The temperatures are hovering around one hundred thanks to a late-summer heat wave, and if I make it through this without melting, I’ll be amazed.