Fyre & Revenge (5 page)

It was sex.
Nothing more. But whatever it was, he hadn’t been able to get
enough. Whether fast and furious like the first time up against the
door, or slow and sensual like the last time. He’d woken her in the
early hours, hard and aching with need despite the fact he’d
already taken her twice before. She’d been sleepy, protesting his
advances a little. But he’d had a lifetime of knowing how to get
exactly what he wanted and he was nothing if not persuasive.

The result had
been Zette moaning in pleasure, her curvy body under his as he
pounded into her, rotating his hips so she got the maximum pleasure
out of their joining. When she’d come, the rapture on her face and
the tight grip of her body around his had tipped him over the edge.
More than tipped, that was far too tame for the way she made him
feel. Hurtled him over the edge would be more accurate. Hurtling
him over the edge and straight into the most intense orgasm he
could remember.

He frowned,
creases forming on his brow. In fact, last night they’d all been
pretty damn good. His body tightened, his cock hard in an instant
at the memory of her wrapped around him. All tight, wet heat. The
kind of feeling that made a guy, made him, just want to sink into
her willing body and stay there forever.

Her eyelashes
fluttered again, the tiny movements of her body telling him she was
waking up. About time too, he decided. He’d thought he was going to
have to coax her awake again.

“Good morning
sleeping beauty.” He leaned in to claim a kiss as soon as her eyes
opened, his large hand sliding up her side. He pulled her toward
him, covering her with his larger body as he started to make lo—
seduce her all over again.

* * *

It had been a
long day at the end of a longer week. Zette sighed in relief as she
pushed the front door to her apartment closed behind her, shutting
the world out. The top floor of what once had been a factory of
some sort, it was her sanctuary from the world. It had the light
and space she needed when she was working. Great acoustics and a
killer view didn’t hurt either.

She trudged
through into the living room, dumping her bag on an oversized
leather armchair as she hopped from one foot to the other to pull
her boots off. A small moan of relief escaped her full lips, her
feet virtually crying in relief as they spread out, released from
the narrow confines of the boots.

“Bloody Italian
boots, do they all have anorexic feet or something?” she muttered
as she kicked them out of sight under the sofa. They could stay
there and rot for all she cared. Nothing would persuade her to put
them on again… Well, until the next morning when she decided they
were just too cute not to wear, forgetting all about the torture
they’d put her through today. But tonight, tonight she hated the
sight of them.

She flopped
back into the big cushions that littered the back of the sofa and
closed her eyes with a sigh. The boots pinching hadn’t been the
worst of her problems today, would that they had been. No stranger
to tight costumes thanks to the fads wardrobe went through, she
could have coped with that. No, it had all started to go belly up
this morning after an argument with JJ and just gone downhill from
there.

The argument
had been such a juvenile one. JJ wanted her to accompany him to
some business shindig tonight and she hadn’t wanted to. After a
tough week writing and trying to organise everything for the
concert all she’d wanted to do was curl up and be a hermit this
weekend. Stay in bed and call out for pizza instead of cooking.
He’d got stroppy and demanding, which had only meant she’d dug her
heels in more. Which in turn had led to heated words and Zette
storming out, loudly stating he might have bought her body but
she’d be damned if he owned her. To which he’d just yelled that
until the concert was done he did, and she’d best be there.

Of course, that
was the worst thing to say to Zette. In retaliation she hadn’t left
the studio until half seven. Half an hour after the function had
started.

“Gah!” She
grabbed the nearest cushion and buried her head under it. JJ was
going to be pissed as hell. She knew that without asking, knew she
was playing with fire by refusing to go tonight. But she was just
too tired to even contemplate it. Hour after hour of being nice,
smiling until her cheeks ached. It was her idea of hell. She
shuddered and threw the pillow aside, watching it bounce off the
sofa and onto the wooden floor.

No, what she
needed now was a nice long bath and an early night. The past three
weeks had been a whirlwind. She felt as though her feet had barely
touched the floor. Far from wanting a one night stand as she’d
thought, JJ had treated her like a real…girlfriend, if you could
call her that. Wasn’t she a bit old for that term now? She shrugged
to herself. Whatever the correct terminology was, JJ had
infiltrated every part of her life: picking her up from the studio,
dropping into her offices for impromptu lunches, taking her home
each evening for nights of passion that left her wanting more. He
was a forceful whirlwind of a man who always seemed to be on the
move. It wore her out just looking at him at times.

So it was nice
just to get away from that for a night, take stock and catch her
breath. The concert was less than a week away and as well as being
on the organisation team, Zette also had to perform. So she needed
her sleep, she told herself firmly. No matter what Mister High and
Mighty thought.

The phone rang
behind her, the shrill sound making her jump a little. She wasn’t
expecting it. Out of necessity she was ex-directory. A freaky
wanna-be stalker had seen to that a couple of years ago. So there
weren’t many people that had the number and most of the ones that
did also had her cell so they usually rang that first.

She left it to
ring, waiting for the answer-phone to cut in. As soon as it did
JJ’s voice demanded, “Zette, where the
hell
are you? I
told you I wanted you with me tonight… Oh fuck it, I hate these
things. Call me.” Then he cut the call. No goodbye, no nothing.

Head rested
back against the plush cushions Zette wrinkled her nose at the
ceiling. Let him wait, she was having tonight off from being a paid
mistress. Three weeks without a break, surely she could ask for one
night off? Even if the work wasn’t that hard. Not hard at all. JJ
was a skilled lover, the best she’d had. Not that she’d had that
many but even she could tell he was good. Better than good. A
master of seduction. She hadn’t really stood a chance that first
night she realised now, nor any night since. He’d played her from
that first kiss, and he was still doing it.

She levered
herself off the sofa with a groan and headed toward the bathroom to
run a bath. Time for some heavy duty pampering.

* * *

Water tumbled
into the deep corner bath, splashing against the white porcelain as
steam rose to fill the room. She dropped a generous amount of her
favourite bath oil in, breathing deeply as the smell of rose and
jasmine filled the room. She rolled her shoulders, feeling her
tension start to melt away at just the scent.

Reaching up,
she wound the heavy fall of her hair up and secured it in a clip so
it wouldn’t trail in the water as she bathed. Then, slowly, she
stripped off her clothes. The fitted shirt gave way to reveal a
slender torso, her breasts encased in a lace and silk bra. She
turned slightly, studying herself in the mirror. Her hands skimmed
up her sides to cup the full breasts, pushing them together to make
her cleavage deeper. What was it about these that fascinated men?
JJ was nuts over them, and half the photographers she worked with
were all ‘More cleavage darling! Let’s have more of those tits on
display.’

She shook her
head and dropped her hands, unfastening her jeans to push them down
over her hips. The fabric, weighted by the heavy belt, slid down
the regrettably short length of her legs. That was one thing Zette
had always wished she could change about herself. She was short and
on the pretty side of plump for the music industry. Which meant she
was a normal size. She knew that, didn’t have a problem with it.
But once, just once it would be nice to sweep into a place
gracefully. One couldn’t do ‘sweeping gracefully’ at a little over
five foot, it just wasn’t possible.

She bent down
to retrieve the belt, coiling it in one hand as she dropped the
jeans into the laundry basket. She’d already managed to wash three
and didn’t want to repeat the mistake. Coiling the soft leather she
left it on the vanity and shucked off her underwear.

Her toe had
barely dipped in the water when a hammering at the door,
accompanied by the shrill sound of the bell being rung repeatedly,
jerked her head up. Irritation surged through her. Who the hell
could that be?

She hovered for
a second, one foot over the tempting water. She could ignore it,
just sink into the scented water and close her eyes… The hammering
got louder, as though the unseen caller could tell what direction
her thoughts were taking. She sighed and stepped back. Grabbing a
robe from behind the door, she pulled it on, stalking through the
open-plan apartment to the front door.

“Okay, okay,
I’m coming. Keep your bloody hair on!” she hissed and forgot
everything she knew about personal safety to throw the door open.
Sure this was a secure block, but someone determined could always
scale the fence or shimmy down a drainpipe or whatever the
terminally obsessed did these days.

“Are you bloody
mad?
Do you always open the door without checking who it
is first?”

Zette’s eyes
widened at the tall male figure filling the doorway, snapping a
demand at her in lieu of a greeting. JJ. She’d have preferred the
deranged stalker.

“Oh yes, all
the time!” she threw back and shot him a withering look, one he
completely ignored as his gaze raked over her, noting the fluffy,
overlarge bathrobe and her bare feet.

“Do you have
anything on under there? You haven’t, have you? So you answered the
door without knowing who it was or even bothering to check and
practically naked as well!” His voice was low, tight with anger as
he glared down at her, stepping through the door and forcing her to
back up. It was that or be trampled.

She cast a
glance down at the towelling robe. It covered her from neck to
mid-calf. Sexy and revealing it was not. “Not exactly naked,” she
argued, “not that it’s any of your damn business what I answer the
bloody door in!”

His reply was a
look so hot it could have stripped paint, making it bubble and melt
off any surface his hazel eyes rested upon. Zette sucked in a
breath as he advanced on her, slamming the door behind him with a
savage twist of his torso. She shivered as her nipples pebbled
under the robe, the sensitive peaks rubbing against the towelling.
Towelling which had felt so soft when she’d pulled the robe on but
now seemed designed to abrade her sensitive flesh, sending shooting
sparks of arousal through her body directly to her clit. Colour
blazed in her cheeks. She was sick, twisted in the head if she
could get turned on by this sort of behaviour. By his anger, he
looked as though he either wanted to throttle her or devour
her.

She backed up,
JJ stalking her, until the back of her hips bumped the console
table to one side of the large hall. In an instant he was on her,
hard hand sliding around the back of her neck as his other wrapped
around her waist, boosting her up onto the table. She heard the
ornaments hit the carpet but it was as though the sound was a long
way off, all her attention on the man pushing against her, crowding
her with his large, hard body.

“Well, I’m
making it my business.” His voice was a low growl of anger and
warning as he ripped open the front of her robe. She gasped as cool
air washed across her exposed skin; skin that burned as he swept a
hot look over her body, lingering on the nipples that were already
peaking toward him in invitation before heading down to the neat
strip of hair above her mound. Roughly he shoved her legs apart,
jamming his hips between them as he leaned closer. “You know what
happens when you open the door to
me
dressed like
this?”

Zette shook her
head as he leaned closer, pausing just before his lips touched
hers. Arousal hummed through her body, all her senses teetering on
the knife edge of anticipation.

“You get
fucked. Fucked long and hard,” he promised, taking her lips in a
hard kiss. At the same time his fingers parted the lips of her sex,
brushed her clit once in preparation before he thrust two fingers
inside her.

She moaned,
almost coming apart there and then. Liquid heat filled every cell
of her body, her pussy clenching around his fingers. The kiss was
hot and hard, a brand of ownership and warning, allowing her no
chance to regain her composure as he fucked her with his fingers.
His thumb circled her aching clit at the same time, driving her
need higher.

“Oh God.” Her
breathing was ragged when he lifted his head, moving on to kiss
along her neck. Cruel, almost bite-like kisses that left her in no
doubt this was going to go exactly when and where he wanted it to.
A shudder went through her body. She wanted it and badly. Even like
this, rough and angry.
Especially
like this. She reached
out to stroke him through his pants, needing to feel that familiar
hardness. He moved subtly, blocking her move.

“Not yet.” He
sucked her nipple into the warm cavern of his mouth and suckled
hard. Zette’s head fell back, his hand supporting her, urging her
to arch her back for him as he feasted on her generous breasts. Her
eyes rolled back in her head as he curled his fingers inside her,
searching for the sensitive spot buried behind her pelvis. “I want
to taste you, want you to come for me first.”