Everything You Want: Everything For You Trilogy 2 (25 page)

He’s given Advance a temporary contract but he’s also given Amanda total access to him, no doubt to appease her for the awful indignity he’s subjecting her to, announcing to the world that it’s me he loves and wishes to marry.

I picture a moment in the future when he does this all over again. With her. She’s wearing the pink diamond token of his love and they’re both explaining to reporters how he discovered I’m not the woman he truly loves after all, but that the loyal, devoted Amanda is the one.

Right now I have it in my possession and will do all in my power to keep it. I hold my fingers aloft and wave it at her. I can be so childish sometimes. I pretend a look of triumph on my face and am pacified to see her scowl as I lean my head on Jack’s shoulder. As I tilt my chin up towards his, he can do nothing but return my invited kiss with all the photographers poised to catch the money shot.

I make sure they get it.

With bells on.

Chapter Eleven

Lanuta bursts through the kitchen door backwards carrying a laden tray. The perfect gentleman, Jack kisses the back of my hand and goes to help her carry it to the large dining table.

“Please help yourselves to refreshments,” he invites everyone.

I imagine this is a pre-arranged signal so Jack can bring the session to a close. It’s been exactly two hours since we began. The reporters and technicians murmur their thanks and help themselves to hot coffee and delicious finger food.

“I bring also the cake.” Lenuta returns to the kitchen. When I see her toss a look of disgust in Amanda’s direction I want to whoop with glee. There’s a whole other person on the planet that agrees Amanda is not the perfect creature she purports to be. Like now, she’s chatting animatedly with one of the reporters as if she’s some consummate professional.

“I’ll go help Lenuta,” I announce.

Jack grabs me by the hand and stops me from leaving. It would appear he still doesn’t want me alone with her and I’m beginning to see why, although if I’m living here he can’t prevent it forever. I plan a woman-to-woman talk with Lenuta just as soon as I get the chance.

“I need to change for the office. I thought my wife-to-be might like to come and help me choose a tie.”

They all laugh at his domestic joke.

He nods his acceptance of the reporters’ thanks, tells everyone his housekeeper will see them out when they’re ready to depart and drags me off with him. I shrug and smile and they grin back as if presuming we want a few loving moments alone together before he leaves. He and I both know he’s inviting me to say my piece about what’s really bothering me: Amanda’s twenty-four hour, Access all Areas, VIP pass.

He understands me well enough by now.

Jack closes the bedroom door behind us, turns and regards me for a moment with a
let’s have it
expression on his face. It must be the look of suppressed rage simmering to a full-blown boil on mine, that makes him state, “Every room is well sound-proofed. Sturdy Victorian architecture tempered with modern technology. You can say exactly what’s on your mind just as loud as you want.”

The fact he expects me to let rip says everything.

I glare instead, not trusting myself to speak straight off the bat. I probably have no right to be so aggrieved. He’s never pretended this engagement was anything but fake, after all. I’m the interloper here but I still can’t believe he would hand her such an unfair advantage. I’m obviously too naïve for my own good. Advance now holds all the cards over CaidCo and Amanda holds all the cards over me because of his actions. But what really gets to me the most is the fact that he kept it a secret all weekend. Like all those covert embraces I’ve inadvertently witnessed between them, it tells me he wants her more than he wants me. Despite all the sex, nothing has changed.

And but for Amanda wishing to rub my nose in it, I would probably have absolutely no idea. Jack is a real class player.

“I suppose I should have told you about that before now,” he admits breaking the terse silence between us.

So he does know where the fault lies.

“Yes. I suppose you should.” My voice is cold. I wait for an explanation with my arms folded defensively across my body, my lips pursed and one eyebrow quirked. This explanation should be good.

It isn’t.

“Get used to it, Tabitha. When I appointed Advance, they suggested placing someone at my disposal and Amanda is it. It makes sense. She knows my needs better than anyone.”

That stings. Of course she does. They’re together and more than simply in a professional capacity. I wonder, not for the first time, how I fit into their little game. “I bet it was her idea too. But you aren’t going to find it so easy to dispose of me, now you’ve announced me to the world as your intended.”

He rolls his eyes as if he’s listening to some melodrama. “I’m not used to having to run my decisions past anyone.”

“I’m not anyone. I’m your future wife,” I assign the term all the mockery I can, in an exaggerated musical tone. I make sure the diamond is obvious by waggling my fingers in his face.

We’ve just convinced the world we’re getting married and the woman he really wants comes along for the ride because she has carte blanche to turn up anywhere at any time. Amanda Devereaux will be stuck to Jack like a blood-sucking leech if I know anything at all which makes my plans to change his mind a whole hell of a lot more difficult.

But this knowledge brings out the warrior in me. “I might just claim 24/7 marital privileges and turn up when you least expect me.”

If I expect him to be concerned about that potential for disaster in his workplace, I’m mistaken. He looks thoroughly amused by the idea and calls my bluff. “I might enjoy that. As long as you plan on acting like my wife when you get there.” He grabs hold of me roughly, his covetous stare making the heat rise beneath my skin. “You look amazing in that skimpy little dress by the way.” His eyes and hands run all over me. “It took all my restraint to keep my hands off you during the interview. Did I buy that for you? I’ve got very good taste.”

He’s so arrogant. As he speaks, he passes his hands firmly over the fabric knowing exactly what he’s doing to the body beneath it. I think he’s already worked out the easiest way to subdue me is to caress and kiss me; to make love to me. I’m such a push-over where Jack’s concerned. I have no free-will when he works my body like this.

“They’re still outside,” I mumble between kisses.

“I don’t care.” One hand gropes for the zipper tab which he slides down slowly.

“I’m angry with you,” I remind him dissolving more with each touch.

“Take it out on me in bed.” He lifts his mouth from my neck for moment and looks at me. The lights in his eyes spark with arousal. He peels the dress from my shoulders and drags it down over my hips. “It has been way too long.” He pauses only to swiftly lock the door again.

“What happened to not touching me again?” I wonder out loud.

“I just can’t do that when you’re around me. It’s asking the impossible.” His eyes travel slowly over my pretty underwear and back again. “You’re beautiful and sexy and I’m turned on simply being near you. I’d go crazy if I couldn’t have you.”

I understand the feeling. What I don’t understand is how he can act so jealous when he sees me with someone like Luc, but thinks it’s okay to have both me and Amanda at the same time. Why can’t I use that same argument to tell him to leave me alone?

He unclasps my bra, letting it drop and bends to tease and suckle a nipple in his hot mouth. My head falls back as I keen under the thrilling sensation. His desire for me is my strongest weapon. Mine, for him, is my Achilles heel. I’d go crazy if I couldn’t have him despite his two-timing conceit.

I’ve unbuttoned his shirt without realising it and he pauses briefly to tear it from his body. He wants his skin against my skin as much as I do. His hands fondle and caress, squeezing and moulding while I whimper in pleasure between his parted lips. It seems to drive him insane with lust.

He lifts me, carrying me backwards to his bed, toppling me over and plummeting on top of me. He rears back only to unbutton his trousers and work his erection free of his boxers. He draws my panties down my legs and nudges my knees apart to cradle himself between.

“I don’t just want you ready,” he tells me, sliding his fingers over my hot, wet silkiness. “I want you to beg.”

I writhe and buck beneath his slow, sensuous torment. The pads of his fingers swirl around and over the tight knot of nervous delight until I’m panting and arching convulsively. He soothingly slips heavy fingers inside me. But the relief is only temporary. His thrusting and stroking builds my need to breaking point.

I feel no shame at all. “Please, Jack. Fuck me hard. Let me come.”

“Good girl.”

Drawing my secretions down, he rubs my fluids over one tightly erect nipple and slowly sucks it off.

“You taste so good. Salty. Sweet. I can’t get enough of your juices either, woman.” He kisses me deeply transferring the taste of my own erotic need directly onto my tongue.

I reach between us and find him, covering his hardness with both hands. He groans and curses as I squeeze and pull in both directions. My empty muscles contract and pulse, seeking their own relief. Thighs, calves and toes tense and I hold myself rigid as he toys endlessly with me for pleasure.

“Jack?”

“What is it, kitten?”

He knows what I need but he likes to torment me. He likes to withhold himself until the very last moment.

When I’m in this place, begging comes easy. The alternative is much harder to contemplate. “Please give me what I need. Let me show you how much I want you.”

He emits a tight laugh. “Kitten wants an orgasm from Jack, does she?”

I nod beyond speaking. I arch my pelvis up towards him guiding his erection closer to me. I stimulate the smooth firmness and hear the breath catch in his throat. I bite him on the shoulder, sucking hard enough to leave a bruise.

He hisses through his teeth. “Rough?”

I nod. It’s too late to be reserved. I must have him inside me. Friction and completion are the only things on my mind.

He flips me over like I weigh nothing, hands dragging my hips back until I’m kneeling on all fours. He wraps the length of my hair around his fist and pulls my head backwards bracing me against his impending assault.

He nudges at me; knocks my knees further apart to lower my centre of gravity and thrusts deeply upwards until his thighs slap against the backs of mine. I gasp at the sudden mounting, the intense pressure. He withdraws.

His hand reaches forward and pinches my nipple hard. As I buck he drives into me again propelling me forward and yanking on my hair to hold me back. I feel the serpent coil tighter in my belly as again he withdraws.

“Move your hips like you did when you played your dirty little song on the violin,” he orders. He enters me fully.

“Ohhh.” I grind to the right and then to the left and he growls out with the pleasurable sensation it affords him. He impels me back to centre with a firm thrust.

“Keep going.”

I do as I’m commanded and he gratifies me with a series of jerky, shallow little shoves in and out, moving our bodies in delicious conflict against one other, attacking every nerve ending until I’m quivering and on the edge.

He slaps my buttock and I cry out. As heat lifts in my flesh he tenses and thrusts and I suddenly orgasm, wailing my top note, feeling myself spasm around him as he releases inside me.

He attempts one long slow withdrawal in the middle of my crisis as I whine but offers a re-entry sighing audibly to the thrill and shiver of my muscles. I lose all sense of time until he releases my hair and I collapse beneath him on the bed, his dead weight crushing the breath from me but I don’t care.

Jack strokes my hair back from my temple and kisses my jaw and throat over and over as our breathing slows and both his heart rate and mine steady towards a natural rhythm.

“It’s been way too long.” He repeats his words almost like an accusation of my negligence.

“Not even twenty-four hours,” I point out in one exhausted gasp.

He taps my rump again. “Too long.” His is the final decision on the matter.

I squirm to turn in his arms until he gets the message and helps me. He gathers me to him. With my face pressed against the warm, rough skin of his neck I nuzzle him there, feeling the rasp of minute hairs against my wet tongue as I play.

“Quit tickling.” The teasing sensation obviously irritates him now he’s sated and I smile at his rapid ability to change temperament. He’s only mine, it seems, for as long as I hold him in thrall.

I lurch up and catch hold of his bottom lip between my teeth. He tries to look down at me, almost cross-eyed because of the close point of focus. But I’ve captured him and hold on tight to my possession. He can’t escape without pain. Every time he tries to retreat I bite down harder until he gets the message. I intend to have him and keep him and I will use any weapon at my disposal.

Sometimes non-verbal communication is more effective with Jack. He places a large open palm over my backside and pats in slow, rhythmical warning until I release his lip. His message is loud and unequivocal. He studies me like a rare butterfly captured in a jar whilst I lie there and allow it. I wish every moment could be as precious as this one. If I could only make him love me, I know it could be.