Vengeful Love (14 page)

My world spirals out of control as my orgasm takes over my body. As my head crashes back against the window, I scream his name and feel him release, pouring himself into me on a round of expletives.

“I didn’t know it could be like that,” I mumble into his shoulder.

I might have fought it but now I’ve had him. I’ve broken all my rules and there’ll be no going back from Gregory Ryans.

He lowers my leg to the ground and rests his chin against my temple. His hips rotate gently, taking every last drop of release out of us. I pull his body into mine and kiss his neck, tasting the salt of his sweat as our breathing calms. He turns his head and places his lips on mine, then runs his fingers down the side of my body, leaving goose pimples in their wake.

“That was worth the wait,” I tell him.

“I’m not even close to done with you yet, lady.”

He withdraws his length, stroking my sensitive skin as he exits. That small act keeping me high, making me want more. In one smooth move, he grips my arse cheeks, my legs hooking onto his svelte hips, and carries me through the lounge. I tug his hair and work my lips down his temple as he takes us upstairs and into his bedroom.

Dim blue floor lights illuminate the room. As he places me down, the leather sleigh-bed rests against my calves and he nudges my shoulder until I fall back onto the luxurious sheets. I writhe against the smooth satin until he bends my legs and slides me back up the bed, removing my heels one at a time, then taking his time to roll down my stockings. His fingers trail unhurriedly down to my navel.

I want to tell him to stop, to let me clean, but the sight of him crawling between my legs, his firm chest and biceps hovering over me, the continued excitement of his cock, drive my salacious thoughts. My body is ready for him again.

His tongue is caressing my clit before I can say stop. My breaths are sporadic and take me to a lightheaded state of sheer, indulgent gratification. My body stiffens. My chest rises. My hips move in time with his tongue. I throw my hands above my head and grip the frame of the bed as impending pleasure takes control of my body.

I want him inside me.

Like he’s tuned into me, his fingers slip through the evidence of our first round and stroke the most responsive part of my wall. I sweat under the pressure of his touch and the feel of his tongue; he keeps going until screams escape me.

“That’s right, baby. Show me how much you want it.”

Another orgasm attacks each of my senses, overpowering me.

I’m spent.

I open my eyes to see him kneeling over me, deliciously self-assured. I lock my legs around his waist and roll us until he’s lying on his back. I straddle him and watch him, captivated by the change in his face as I lean one hand back and run a finger from the bottom of his sack to the tip of his hard-on. I grab him in my hand and move my hips in time with the movement of my hand.

“I want to come inside you,” he groans.

His hands grip my hips tight and raise me so I can slide down on top of him. My head falls back as I delight in the feel of him against my tender insides. He growls when I start to move around him and his fingers dig further into my flesh.

Circling, rising and pushing back down on to him, I build us both, relishing in the power of giving this to him.

His body stiffens.

He reaches up, grabbing my breasts and flicking his thumbs over their hard ends. It’s

too much.

I fall forward and kiss his lips, tasting myself on him. He rolls me onto my back and thrusts harder, faster, until I think I might faint. Then he slams one hand onto the bedframe and with one last thrust deep inside me, we both come undone.

Chapter Eighteen

I’m alone, cocooned in white bed sheets. A hot streak of winter sun peeks from behind the bedroom blind, illuminating the white walls. I’m intensely aware of my body, my breasts and the moist sensation between my legs. My lips are soft to touch but feel plump and delicate. It’s like last night woke me for the first time in my life.

He makes me forget everything. Forget who I am. Forget my lines and my rules.

He makes me feel like I can be anyone I want to be.

What he did to me... I’ve never felt that way. Physically. Emotionally. It completely took over every part of me, touch, smell, sound, taste. He took it all and I willingly relented.

Smiling to myself, I search the room for my clothes, expecting them to be scattered across the floor. I find my dress folded, along with my jewelry, on a sleek black velour chaise longue in the corner of the room. The stiletto heels that bore witness to all last night’s events are neatly paired on the floor.

The smell of fresh coffee permeates the room and mumbling voices come from somewhere in the apartment. I hold my dress across my body in front of the floor-length mirror, so obviously the morning after the night before. Amanda would call this the walk of shame. No matter who’s down there, I can’t really walk out in my LBD and heels. Scanning the room, I realise how little I took in last night. There’s no wardrobe, no real practical furniture other than the enormous sleigh bed and the seductive chaise longue. A bachelor room. I throw away the thought of how many other women have probably had the pleasure.

Gregory’s shirt from last night hangs invitingly on the end of the chaise long. There’s no getting away from it, whoever’s out there is going to know exactly what we did last night. Mostly, I’m mortified, but there’s a part of me that wants to shout from the rooftops that Gregory Ryans,
the
Gregory Ryans, Mr. Sexy Bazillionaire CEO Ryans, made love to me. Twice.

I button up the shirt I was so keen to unbutton last night, hang my head upside down to shake the bedhead from my hair, tap my cheeks in the mirror and quietly open the bedroom door. Tip-toeing along the hallway and down the stairs, I hold the tail ends of the shirt closed to preserve what little dignity I have left.

Gregory and Jackson are deep in conversation at the breakfast bar. They both sip fresh orange in sweat pants and gym tops. It’s the first time I’ve seen Gregory look casual and he’s still truly captivating.

Jackson leans forward on the kitchen breakfast bar looking more serious than I care for anyone to be this morning.

“Are you certain it was foul play?” Gregory asks, receiving a shrug from Jackson.

“I can’t be certain. His body will be so battered it’ll be hard to tell.”

I stand upright, putting my hand on the wall to steady my legs.

“But like you said, the struggle could have been him trying to get out of the room.”

“It could’ve been but I want to bring in extra security in case this thing isn’t over.”

“Fine. Bring them in. Make sure my mother has twenty-four seven.”

“And what about you?” Jackson asks.

“I’ll be fine, just make sure Lara’s protected.”

“Greg, if he had anything to do with it, it’s not about the girl, it’s about you.”

“Jackson,” Gregory interjects, “go and enjoy your weekend. You live here. How much harm can I really come to?”

Jackson nods in agreement then stands at attention, feigning a cough when he notices me.

“Are you talking about my father?”

Gregory turns from his stool.

“Well?”

“No.”

“Bullshit! Tell me what you were talking about.”

“Scarlett, Jackson was concerned by your reaction the other night, that’s all. It just got him thinking about security.”

“You mean the state of my father’s room?”

Jackson steps from behind the breakfast bar. “You didn’t seem to think he could get to the stairs himself, Scarlett. If he couldn’t then someone—”

“Jackson!” Gregory barks. “Enough. It’s ridiculous. You’re scaring her for Christ’s sake. Unnecessarily. You’ve put two and two together as usual and come up with a fucking detective plot.”

Jackson shakes his head but backs down.

“So I shouldn’t worry?”

Gregory rests one elbow on the counter and drops his hand to his thigh. “No. You shouldn’t worry.” He pats his thigh, his eyes wild, salacious. “Get here,” he says in a way that makes me want to submit to his every demand.

My sore muscles react, bringing back memories of every luscious stroke and caress of last night. I force myself to remember that we’re not alone.

“Morning,” is all I can manage to say.

“Good morning, Miss Heath,” he returns with that enchanting part curl of his lips.

Jackson subtly exits, leaving the two of us alone in the kitchen.

“I like this on you,” he says, tugging each side of his shirt collar, pulling me between his legs.

He strokes his fingertips down my cheek. His touch is delectable. His smooth, orange-flavoured lips press against mine and my body intuitively presses into his.

“Mmm, I like your juice,” I say, tracing the inside of his top lip with the tip of my tongue until he groans.

He flashes a boyish grin and gives me one final peck on the lips. He holds me between his thighs by the small of my back, my hands resting on his shoulders.

“Gregory, is Jackson serious about my father?”

“No, baby. He has an overactive imagination. Years in the forces will do that to a man apparently.”

He drops his head to the bare flesh of my chest and his hands roam to my arse cheeks.

“I like when you call me baby.”

He pulls the lapel of his shirt to one side and digs his teeth into the plump flesh at the top of my breast. “And I like calling you baby.”

This is weird. Yesterday he was my client. Ex-client. Now, I’m happily pushing my female bits against his male bits and he’s sucking on my breast.

He slaps a palm against the bare globe of my arse and I squeal at the oddly erotic sting. “Now, what would you like for breakfast?”

I look around the worktops but only see coffee and a fruit bowl.

Shrugging, I say, “Coffee will be fine.”

He chuckles and shuffles me so I replace him on the stool. Opening his large American-style fridge, he asks “Pancakes? Bacon? Eggs? I’ll call my chef.”

“Oh. Please don’t.”

“I’m joking, Scarlett, I can cook...well a little. Amy does most of my cooking but she doesn’t work a weekend unless I ask.

“Amy?”

“Cleaner. Cook. All round domestic angel. How do smoked salmon bagels sound? I can use a toaster,” he grins.

Smiling, I pour a filter coffee and sit back on his warm stool to get a front row view of him moving around the kitchen. “Have you been working out?”

“Running, then sparring with Jackson.”

“I wondered where that body came from. Where do you spar?”

“In the gym.”

“Yes, thank you, I guessed that much. Where’s the gym?”

He points to a white door at the back of the lounge.

“Naturally, you have a gym in your apartment.”

He pops the two halves of a bagel from the toaster and turns them onto a plate. “Cream cheese?”

“Please.”

“This is good,” I say after chomping through my first bite of bagel in seconds.

“I can see that.”

“So, erm, Jackson lives here?”

“He does.”

“Hmm, okay.”

Gregory laughs. An unexpected sound from the usually serious CEO. “There’re five bedrooms and Jackson’s is furthest away from mine.”

“Oh. I didn’t realise it was so big.”

He glances to his crotch. “Why thank you.”

“The apartment, fiend.” Images of his toned body lowering down onto me fill my mind. “I just don’t know where my head was last night.”

He stalks toward me and I pause midway through taking a bite of bagel. He pushes my legs apart and stands between them, then rubs his thumb across the side of my mouth and sucks cream cheese from the tip. A sight that parts my lips, upstairs and down.

“Are you free today?” he asks.

I swallow, giving myself a second to recover, and make him wait for my response, rotating my hand in the air.

“Am I free? Yes and no.”

“Ah, we’re back to cryptic Scarlett.”

I scowl lightheartedly. “I was planning on seeing my dad.”

“Of course, I’m sorry, I didn’t think.”

“No, please, there’s no need to be sorry. I’ll go this morning and maybe we could do something this afternoon? You see, I had this big deal on at work which was taking up my weekends but that ended yesterday so I guess I have some time on my hands.”

“Hmm, I wonder if your client could find you any more work to do.”

“He’d better not.”
Certainly not of the same fucked up kind as the last deal.

“What if I came to the hospital with you?” he asks sheepishly.

“Oh, Gregory, it’s not that I wouldn’t like you to meet my dad but I, well, I don’t think he would want you to meet him like this. He’s not, well, he’s not—” Suddenly the image of my weak, dying father is in my mind and I can feel the black feeling of guilt creeping from my fingertips and toes, riding up my limbs. Gregory’s warm hand on my leg stops the black poison and when I look up at his face, it starts to retract.

“Actually, I was planning on going to the hospital sometime soon anyway. I visit the children’s ward every now and then, a few times a year. Don’t look at me like that, it’s not saintly or anything, it’s a self-satisfying deed, it actually makes me feel good to play computer games and Mr. Potato Head. Anyway, I haven’t been for a while, so maybe I could go there whilst you visit your dad and then we can do something together?”

Words have escaped me. If I was the type of woman to have a checklist, I think I could by now have mentally ticked each and every box and handed Gregory a piece of paper marked with an A+ and a smiley face.

I move my plate to the sink. “I’m going to need some clothes.”

“I quite like what you’re wearing.”

“Hmm, that’s a shame. I was just about to take it off.” I bite my lower lip as I make my way to the stairs.

Gregory runs toward me before I can blink. I scream as he throws me into a fireman’s lift over his shoulder and runs me back upstairs to the bedroom.

He crawls onto the bed and lays me down on my back then spreads my legs with his knees. He lifts his shirt in a hurry and casts it aside. Then a magic finger trails from my breastbone, over my stomach and down to my clit before sliding through my wetness.
Oh God!

“You’re ready.” It’s not a question, which is a good thing because my answer would be
I’m not ready, I’m desperate, to feel you again
. The sight of his perfect body descending on me spurs my desire.

He moves his wet finger to my bottom lip, my tongue rounding the tip under his scrutinising eye. His pupils dilate and darken as he unhooks each of the buttons on his shirt one...by...one. He tweaks my exposed nipples, causing me to squirm beneath him. My body writhes as he cups my breast then takes a tight end in his teeth, stretching the raging skin.

I don’t think I’ll ever get enough of this.

My legs fall further apart as heat blazes between them. I move to push down his bottoms but am quickly stopped. “All in good time, Scarlett. First, I want to discover every inch of this amazing body.”

I can’t wait.

He kisses my breastbone, my lungs filling on a gasp. “Each.” He plants another kiss an inch lower. “And.” Then another on my stomach. “Every.” Then my navel. “Inch.” My hips buck when his kiss lands at the top of my cleft. My hands fly to his hair, my fingers pulling his dark strands, my thirst for him unquenchable.

He takes my hands from his hair and pins them above my head, holding them in place with one hand as he moves his face to mine. “I. Am. Savouring. You. Keep your hands here. Okay?”

“Yes.” I manage to croak.

He drops his mouth to mine and sweeps his tongue along my top lip then pulls my bottom lip in his teeth. “Good girl.”

Holy crap! He’s no stranger to this game.

He shuffles back and stands at the bottom of the bed, smoldering as he watches me wriggle with the loss of his warmth. He unties his bottoms, anticipation killing me. I bite my bottom lip and move my arms to my sides, gripping the duvet with balled fists.

“Hands!” he snaps. I instantly return my arms to where he placed them, fully aware of the exposure of my chest in this position.

“Good girl.” He pushes down his bottoms painfully slowly. He knows exactly what he’s doing to me and my raging hormones. My insides are in turmoil. I need him to relieve the thunderous pressure that’s building between my legs.

Finally, he releases his erection, so big and hard it almost rests against his stomach. I gasp, knowing that soon I’ll have him again. His gaze lingers on my breasts as he crawls between my legs then shocks me by thrusting his fingers straight into me. I cry out in total unadulterated pleasure, my eyes closing, absorbing the sensation.

“Let me see you,” he demands. I peel back my eyelids and see his lust staring at me as he moves his fingers in and out, working my clit with tantalising rolls of his thumb.

“Tell me how it feels, Scarlett.”

“Good. God, so good.”

He growls, rotating his hips against his hand, adding pressure to my labia.

“Kiss me.” My words are low, unrecognisable.

His mouth meets mine, capturing my frantic breaths. Our tongues work together, swirling greedily.

The pressure is building. I know I’m close. I need more. “Gregory, please.”

As if understanding my cry he replaces his two fingers with three and speeds up his movements. My hips move with his fingers, desperate to reach the peak.

“Oh, God! Gregory!”

His fingers work harder. He replaces his thumb with his tongue, the warm slick pervasion sending me exploding over the edge.

“Give in, baby.”

“Gregory!” I scream.

He slows his fingers and brings his lips to my neck as I let my head loll blissfully content to one side.

“‘I could watch you come for me all day,” he mumbles through nibbles of my skin.