Demon's Plaything (14 page)
“I will, too. I’m a professional now.”
“I cook, but I don’t cook
and
do dishes,” she said sternly.
“I know my way around a dishwasher.”
“I have a bad habit of sticking my nose in where it doesn’t belong.”
He chuckled at that statement. “It’s true, but I think you’ve learned your lesson on that one. And besides, you’ll have me to protect you now.”
She laughed, and he looked offended.
“Don’t laugh,” he said, turning serious. “I mean it, Shayla. I will protect you. From anyone and anything, no matter what.”
“I know you will. I knew that from the start,” she said, reaching for his hand.
“Good. Don’t ever doubt it.”
“I won’t. So, it looks like you’re going to shoot down every objection I can muster, correct?”
He smiled, some of the tension leaving his face and posture. “Correct.”
“Well, what should be our first activity as ‘us’?”
In an instant, his gaze turned molten, and he reached out to pull her close, the insistent nudge of an erection that she was sure hadn’t been there moments ago pressing into her belly.
“I think we should have some of that raunchy sex you’re so fond of. But this time, in a bed,” he said as he cupped her ass, one hand on each cheek, and urged her closer.
“People do that?” she said on a breathy whisper.
“Indeed. I think you’ll like it, but there’s no way to know for sure until we try.”
With that, he lifted her up, and she wrapped her arms around his shoulders and her legs around his waist, basking in his strength, their closeness as he walked up the stairs and to her bedroom, where he deposited her on the unmade bed.
“Uh-uh,” she said as he reached for his tie. “I’ve imagined this moment too many times. I’m doing that.”
She scooted to the edge of the bed and ran her hands up the hard plane of his abdomen and chest before she stood. She trailed her fingers down his arms, the fabric smooth to her touch.
“Did I tell you this is a nice suit?”
He chuckled. “You did.”
“It’s going to look so much better off.”
“So why don’t you stop teasing and take it off?” he said, his voice thick with arousal.
“As you command,” she said, her own arousal just as clear in her voice.
Then she reached under his jacket and ran her hands up his back, feeling the bunch and pull of his strong muscles as he lifted his arms. She let her hands rest there a moment, closing her eyes and almost moaning audibly at the play of his flesh beneath her fingers, so strong, so warm, even when covered by the fine silk of his shirt.
Demon’s lips, warm and gentle as they touched hers, made her open her eyes again, and the passion, desire she saw reflected in his eyes took her breath away. Refocused, she pushed the jacket off his shoulders and down his arms. It landed on the floor with a soft
swish
. The jacket out of her way, she make quick work of his tie, shivering at the sound of silk sliding against silk. Then she pulled his shirt from his pants, Demon’s breath hitching when her hands brushed against the prominent bulge.
Anticipation raced through her, but she maintained her unhurried motions, opening the shirt one button at a time and then spreading it to reveal his broad chest. Even covered by the thin undershirt, his well-defined abs and chiseled pecs were visible, and Shayla squeezed her thighs in an attempt to relieve the now-insistent throb that pulsed at her core, that ached to be filled by him.
Up, up, she pulled the T-shirt, both of them breathing out at the touch of skin against skin. His skin was warm, scorching really, and the pinpricks of sensation at the contact, the ridges and valleys of his muscled chest and the thin layer of hair that covered it, felt a thousand times more intense, such was her state of desire. When she reached his flat nipple, she couldn’t resist, first stroking it with her thumb and then leaning down to repeat the action with her tongue. He stiffened and grabbed her shoulders, and when she would have repeated the motion yet again, he stopped her by leaning down and taking her lips with his.
The kiss was breath-stealing, and when she opened her mouth to breathe deep, trying to get air, he took advantage, slipping his tongue into the warm cavern of her mouth, leaving no inch of it unexplored. Her knees weakened, and she squirmed again, the throb ratcheting up higher still until she wanted to beg him to fuck her. He pulled away, and she couldn’t stop the irritated sigh that escaped her.
He chuckled as she pulled him back to her and maneuvered the T-shirt over his head and off, leaving his bare chest fully exposed to her gaze for the very first time. She was torn; she wanted to drink him in, see every inch of him, but she also wanted
more
, wanted to touch him, expose the rest of him.
As always, impatience won, and she moved her hands to his belt buckle, rested her palm against his iron-hard erection, before moving down, tracing the hard muscles of his long thighs, down his sculpted calves, kneeling as she went until she reached his shoes. She removed one, then the other, and then one sock and then the other before she looked up at him, her gaze snagging on his cock before she met his eyes.
Her breath was again taken by the emotion in his gaze. No one had ever looked at her like that, like she was the most desired, most precious, most treasured woman in the world, like she was loved. Blood rushed to her head, and she was almost high on the rush of emotion that hit her. She felt, for the very first time, like someone saw her, and instead of running, pulling back from it, she stayed, basked in the raw feeling that passed between them, and hoped that he knew every ounce of the emotion she saw in his gaze was returned.
Without breaking his gaze, she reached for his belt buckle, and he quirked a brow, making her giggle. The emotion of the moment had passed, but she was free again to return to her work. She opened his belt with the same deliberate slowness, though at this point, she wondered who was more tortured, and did the same with his pants, letting them fall at his feet. She could see the outline of his cock through his underwear, the thick shaft topped by his prominent crown, his heavy sac hanging underneath. Drawn by his heady, masculine scent, the need to have at least some contact, she snaked her tongue out and traced his shaft through the fabric, swiping once, twice, over the veins that threaded the column before focusing on his tip, making broad stripes over his wide head, paying special attention to his slit.
“Shayla…”
The word was a curse and a prayer and her control snapped. She stood, pulled her pants down and her shirt over her head, and then gently, but as quickly she could, slid his pants down. They stood face-to-face, finally able to be together without any intrusion, any worry, nothing but the two of them together.
He stepped out of his clothes, stopping briefly to retrieve a foil packet from his pocket, and moved closer to her, leading her back until she hit the edge of her bed. They went down in a tumble, and it was as if something had been unleashed. They touched each other greedily, hands against flesh, simultaneously lingering and exploring, each trying to touch every inch of the other all at once.
His cock, which furiously leaked precum, bumped against her, and she opened her legs and lifted her hips. He quickly sheathed himself, and they both moaned as his cock notched against her slick opening. She rocked against him, feeling more moisture pool and coat the inside of her thighs as the contact sent spirals of pleasure from her clit through her body.
Then he stilled, and desperate for more, she looked up at him. When her gaze met his, he began his ascent, feeding his thick manhood into her inch by inch, the stretch and burn of his invasion making the pleasure that much more intense. Finally, fully seated inside her, his pelvis flush against hers, her thighs cradling his hips, he looked into her eyes, entwined his fingers with hers, and in that moment, joined as intimately as they could be, she knew that she’d found her future, knew that he’d found his.
And then he moved.
Pleasure crashed through her like a tsunami, and after one thrust, she exploded, the air forced from her lungs as she came apart. Through it all, he was there, holding her, kissing her, whispering sweet words of love.
••••
Later, they lay in each other’s arms, fingers entwined, not speaking, content to just be together after everything. In that quiet, a question sprang to mind.
“So,” she said.
“Hmm,” he responded drowsily.
“Why do they call you Demon?”
“It’s just a nickname, Shayla,” he said as he leaned over to kiss her collarbone.
“But it doesn’t fit. I mean, you’re so
nice
. Not demonic in the least.”
He nipped her collarbone, then kissed it to soothe the sting. “I’m tough, woman. Not nice.”
“Yes, you are tough, but that doesn’t mean that you aren’t also nice. Which you are.”
She giggled at his exasperated glare. Then he leaned over and nuzzled her neck.
“…gave it to myself…”
Caught in the fire he was beginning to stoke with his caresses, she almost missed what he’d said.
Almost.
“Wait,” she pulled back and looked at him, “did you say you gave it to yourself?”
He grinned sheepishly.
“Yeah. I mean, really, I
am
tough. I just thought I should have a name that reflected as much.”
He was laughing by the time he finished his sentence.
“That totally doesn’t count. You can’t give yourself a nickname.”
“Well I did, and it stuck. So there.”
He traced a finger down her chest, detouring to circle one nipple and then the other, and she squirmed and moaned at his ministrations.
“Satisfied? Because I can think of much more interesting topics of conversation.”
He punctuated the statement with a gentle tweak of her nipple.
“Well, umm,” she said around a moan. “If we’re going to give this thing a go, be an ‘us,’ I think I should know your real name.”
He was quiet for several long moments, and when she looked at him, he smiled again, shyly this time, which was a surprisingly pleasing look for him. He took a deep breath.
“It’s Edwin. Edwin Holtz.”
She looked into his eyes without responding, but her shoulders began to shake, and she couldn’t suppress the peals of laughter that broke through. After a moment, his rich laughter joined hers.
“I’ll stick with Demon,” she said as she leaned over to kiss him.
Thank you for reading. I hope you enjoyed Shayla and Demon’s story. Look for
Elah’s Plaything,
Lottie and Elah’s story, coming in December 2014.
•If you’d like to know when my next book is available, sign up for my new release e-mail list by clicking
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•Read on for an excerpt of
Two Weeks in Geneva: Book One
,
available now.
Dinner was winding down; she and Alexander were among the last of the remaining patrons and he’d already paid the bill, but she found herself reluctant to leave. The deal was closed, and the reality of the end of this whirlwind was setting in. She’d done it, or at least helped and now, the company had its much-needed infusion of cash, a raft of interesting projects, and she’d proven her worth. And to top it off, she still had a little less than a week to explore. Originally, the idea had excited her, and while she looked forward to the downtime, she was honest enough to admit that it didn’t appeal as much as it had before.
Alexander was the reason, and she couldn’t imagine what she’d find in the city that would compare to him. In a few short days, she’d come to appreciate his intelligence, wit, and unrelenting drive. His intensity had brought out the very best in her, pushed her mind in ways she hadn’t experienced before. And if she was being honest, the close proximity and long hours had only amplified the physical attraction she’d felt since the first day at the airport. The stir of arousal churned low in her belly, and she felt the evidence of it gather between her folds and spill over into her panties.
She sighed, trying to ignore the low thrum in her womb and accept the truth of the matter: her time with him was over, and she needed to be professional about it. He was, without a doubt, the most vital, attractive man she’d ever met but he was a colleague, technically a superior now. She probably wouldn’t see him again; it was best to leave the fantasies in her head and enjoy the rest of her trip.
Alone.
