By Private Invitation (13 page)

He collected paintings and etchings and he’d thought he had a damn good collection
of erotic art. Annabelle’s put his to shame.

He recognized pieces by Romano, Paul Emile Becat, Antoine Borel, and Agostino Carracci.
No Beardsleys, which made sense. He remembered she didn’t like him. There were a few
by artists he didn’t recognize, one or two he’d like to buy.

Especially the O’Malleys.

Not that he considered even broaching that subject now. He had designs on much more
than her artwork.

He wanted her. She’d become a craving, one he needed to work out of his system. Maybe
because she’d been the one to walk away first. That didn’t happen to him often. Usually
women wanted to keep him and used any and all weapons at their disposal.

But he wasn’t looking for a relationship. He only wanted her again. At least one more
time.

He turned to find her watching him, her mouth pursed but her eyes…

She could pretend all she wanted but she wanted him too. She couldn’t hide the heat
in her gaze. Not when she looked at him like that.

But first he had to make amends.

“Annabelle, I am sorry I hurt you that night. My only excuse…Well, my only two excuses
are that I love my grandmother and I wanted you. I still want you.”

When she didn’t say anything, he took a step closer. “I dream about you. I can’t go
into the Salon without replaying that night in my mind.” He bent close enough to nip
her earlobe if he wanted. “I go into that room a lot and it’s damned inconvenient
to walk around with a hard-on all day.”

Now he did catch her lobe between his teeth as he heard her breath catch. He let the
silky skin slide through his teeth then blew on it. She shivered and her lips parted
to allow a heavy sigh to escape.

Then she moved away again. “I don’t want anything you have to offer, Jared.”

“Yeah, I’m not buying that, sweetheart.” He traced a line from
her shoulder to her hand then back up, until he came to the first button on her jacket.
“I think you dream about me. I think you dream about that night and want more.”

When she didn’t knock his hand away, he flicked open the button.

“I think you burn for me like I do for you.” Another button gave up the fight. “I
think you want me to show you. Right here. Right now.”

She didn’t answer. She didn’t do anything, just stood there, still as a statue, those
green eyes glazed and staring straight ahead.

“I am so sorry I hurt you, Annabelle,” he breathed into her ear, meaning every word.
“I never meant to hurt you. Let me make it up to you.”

He touched his mouth to hers, brushing their lips together, trying to get a response
from her. When she only stood there, he turned his head to slant his lips over hers
and delve deeper.

He wanted her to respond, wanted her to feel as out of control as he did.

And when she moaned and threw her arms around his neck to draw him closer, harsh desire
broadsided him. He thrust his tongue between her lips and stroked her tongue, her
teeth, the roof of her mouth. She welcomed him, opening her mouth wider to accept
him, and it was his turn to groan.

Grabbing her hips to bring her against his raging erection, he felt a strange mixture
of relief and heightened desire twist his insides into knots.

He would gladly leave them that way, content for the moment to kiss her, to have her
cling to him and to feel her body against his. But he wanted so much more than a kiss,
especially if it only took her kiss to affect him like this.

He raised his hands to finish unbuttoning her suit coat and
bumped into hers, scrabbling at his shirt placket. His heart started to pound against
the wall of his chest.

It became a race. By the time she had his shirt unbuttoned to the waistband of his
jeans, he had her suit jacket on the floor and her shirt around her elbows. Breaking
off the kiss, he looked down. The plain white bra confining her breasts made him that
much more determined to get rid of it fast.

He lifted his hands to remove it, but stopped before he ripped it away. He heard his
breathing, hard and heavy, and lust pumped through his body.

Slow down. Take it easy. She’s not going anywhere. And you’re not a teenager.

Hell, even as a teenager, he’d never been this out of control.

And it was all her fault.

He stared down at Annabelle, his cock throbbing as she stared up at him. She wasn’t
smiling but the heat in her eyes seared him, made him burn.

She held on to his gaze as she bared his chest, pushing aside his shirt. He swore
she should be able to see his heart pounding through his ribs.

As she watched, she leaned forward, pressing her lips to the center of his chest and
nuzzling her nose in the hair, then kissing a path to his left nipple.

Slow down. Slow down.

The words chanted through his head, even as his body urged him to lay her on the floor
and take her.

As slowly as he could, he reached for the front clasp on her bra. Feeling as unsteady
as a teenager, he snapped it open and watched the cups part to reveal a tantalizingly
small portion of creamy skin.

When he reached up to nudge them open even more, Annabelle’s
gaze lifted to snag his. She didn’t say a word, but he caught a hint of something
vulnerable, something cautious in her eyes. Something he’d put there by his actions
on New Year’s Eve.

He brushed his hand across her eyes, urging her to close them, then fastened his mouth
over hers again. Wrapping his arms around her, he lifted her into him, her breasts
crushing against his chest.

He heard the thump as her shoes hit the floor, felt her warm hand move to the zipper
of his jeans. She slipped her fingers into the opening and caressed him through his
boxers, shivers of pleasure making his flesh leap toward her.

If she kept that up, he’d come in her hand.

Holding her against him with one arm, he reached for her skirt zipper with his free
hand and pushed her skirt to the floor. The pantyhose would be tougher, he knew from
experience, but nothing he couldn’t handle. He reached for the waistband…and found
a garter belt instead.

Jesus
. His cock gave a hard pulse as he realized there was still a little bit of the woman
he’d met on New Year’s Eve under all these prissy clothes. Releasing her mouth, he
trailed kisses over her jawline and up to her ear. “Annabelle, I want you to leave
those on.”

She nodded. Or she shuddered. He wasn’t sure which. Either way, she didn’t argue.
He never looked to see what underwear she wore. He just hooked his thumb into one
side and pulled, letting them drop to the floor.

Setting her on her feet, his mouth took hers again as one hand wrapped around her
neck and the other landed on her mound, petting the pretty little patch of curls there
before sinking lower to her bare lips. Her bare, wet lips.

She moaned around his tongue as he breached her mouth. The
taste of her made his blood run thick, and the hand on her pussy stroked between her
folds, his fingertips slick from her moisture.

The scent of her arousal acted like a drug, making him oblivious to everything but
the smell of her, the feel of her.

He had to have her. He lifted his head, his eyes searching…

Christ, there’s so much stuff. Not as much as in the front room but still…Wait, there.
That would do just fine.

“Jared, wa—”

He kissed her again, cutting off what he was sure would’ve been “wait.”

He didn’t want to wait. Hell, he didn’t think he could. She’d infected him like a
virus. And he knew she wanted him. She arched against him, pushing her mound into
his hand, her body telling him she didn’t really want to wait.

Lifting her again, he strode toward the ornate velvet chaise in the corner by the
far wall. Luckily it had a cushion, but he wouldn’t have cared at this point if it
were covered in nails.

But instead of placing Annabelle on it, he set her on her feet as he sat. Drawing
her between his legs, he feasted on her breasts, now at the perfect height for his
mouth.

He felt her fingers dig into his shoulders, her deep moan incentive to suck harder.
His fingers kneaded flesh wherever they landed, sliding down the sensuous silk of
her stockings. He stroked her bare bottom, her hips, and up to her breasts, where
he suckled until her nipples stood out in tight peaks.

From his shoulders, her hands swept down his arms and up into his hair, her fingers
tugging him closer.

“Jared.”

Her husky voice stroked along his skin, pouring more gasoline on the fire.

He felt the rapid rise and fall of her chest, the restless movements
of her body. She wanted to press even closer but he held her steady, enjoying the
slight burn as she pulled harder on his hair.

Finally, with a not-so-gentle nip, which made her shudder, he released her breasts
and began to string kisses across her abdomen.

Her hands skated across his shoulders, then her fingernails dug into his skin as he
slid a hand between her legs again.

He brushed against her hard little clit, eliciting a cry from her that made his heart
thunder. Her hips thrust forward, the little patch of curls on her mound brushing
against his lower chest and making him crazy.

Faster. He had to go faster.

With his jeans still clinging to his hips, he grabbed for his wallet in his back pocket.
Setting it next to him, he used his free hand to shuck out of his jeans then released
her altogether to lay back on the chaise.

Standing beside him, Annabelle watched him with the sharp eyes of a cat. Her gaze
traveled the length of his body. Like hot candle wax, heat dripped all over his body,
sharp and stinging, but erotic as all hell.

She stared at the condom in his hand for several agonizing seconds before reaching
for it, her expression almost fatalistic. But the heat in her eyes scalded him.

“You know,” she said as she ripped open the packet, so slowly Jared wanted to grab
it and do it himself, “I would have been perfectly happy if I’d never seen you again.”

He spoke through gritted teeth as she reached for his cock, held it away from his
body and rolled the condom into place. “I had to see you again. You’ve haunted me.”

Okay, maybe that was a little too honest. He froze for a brief second, but the sweet
smile that barely curved her lips made him forget he’d said anything.

“Good answer, Jared. Very good answer.” In one sleek movement, she straddled the chaise,
her knees on either side of his hips, and positioned herself over him. Gripping him
in one hand, she guided him to her and sank onto him in a moment of perfect bliss.

His hips thrust up to meet hers and he sank as far into her as he could get. Her tight
sheath gripped him like a fist, pulsing around him, egging on his climax.

He felt it building in his balls but forced it back as he reached for her hips to
hold her steady, to keep her from going too fast.

“Slow down, baby. I don’t want this to be over before we really get going.”

Her expression glazed with passion, she stared down into his eyes as she continued
to lift and lower her body over his. “And I don’t have the time to let you play. I
shouldn’t have let you start this but I couldn’t…I couldn’t
not…
”

She never finished. Instead, she covered his hands with her own and drew them up her
body to her breasts. She molded them to those plump curves, her eyes closing as he
squeezed them, his thumbs caressing the hard tips.

Her deep moan made his balls tighten even more.

Then, as if she couldn’t stand it anymore, she moaned and her eyes drifted closed.
Her back arched, thrusting her breasts into his hands. He let his gaze drop to watch
his fingers pinch those pointed rosy nipples.

Goddamn, she had beautiful breasts, the kind a man should worship. He thought about
sitting up so he could get his mouth on them again but didn’t want to disturb her.

She rode him so deliberately, so achingly slowly, as if she were testing him. Testing
his control. And this was a test he would pass.

Even though, as he watched her curls bounce on her bare shoulders and the slight curve
on her lips, his caveman instinct began to rear its head.

He wanted to make her beg.

Releasing her breasts, he let his hands drift down her sides to her hips. Her skin
slid against his like silk on steel. Without warning, he braced her with his hands
on her hips and thrust upward. She gasped, her eyes widening and locking with his.

“Jared.”

“Did I hurt you, Belle?”

“Oh, God, no.” She sighed. “Do it again.”

He did, several times, until her lips curved into an outright smile.

Flat on his back, Jared watched her, his hands caressing her breasts, making her arch
into his hands.

She maintained eye contact as she worked him in and out of her body, her green gaze
slumberous and hypnotizing. Every movement pushed him closer to the edge of his control.

But he wanted her to break first; he needed her to.

Releasing one breast, he stroked down her body until he had his hand poised just above
her mound.

Her breath caught in her throat and she froze in mid-thrust, waiting.

Holding on by a thread, his heart beating like a racehorse, he finally pressed his
thumb over her clit and started to work it.

Her sheath clenched around him as her eyes closed, her head fell back, and she sank
down onto him. The wet lips of her pussy met the root of his cock, her moisture seeping
onto to his balls.

“Now, baby,” he said. “I want to feel you come on my cock. Right now.”

It seemed she’d only needed his permission. Her body shuddered around him, her orgasm
a flurry of contractions that built in intensity.

Without warning, he sat up. The motion brought her clitoris hard against the base
of his penis, and she cried out, her fingernails stinging his shoulders.

Jared rode out the need to come, counting backward from one hundred by sevens until
he felt her internal spasms fading.