His Permanent Mistress: Mistress Under Contract

He tossed the postmix away. She heard it clatter on the bar and then that sense shut down as his other arm closed around her. She became aware only of the feel of him. Close, so close. His gaze had fixed on her mouth and she lifted it as he brought his down slowly.

Their bodies touched, chest to chest, abdomen, hip, thighs and finally lips. Sealing them from top to toe. The kiss was slow. Soft. Simple. But it heralded complications of seismic proportions. From the second his mouth pressed on hers it was all over. There was no way she wasn’t taking this to completion—him to completion—and her.

He lifted his head a whisker and the pulse throbbing in her lips forced her to part them. Immediately he was back and the soft, slow kiss resumed.

He had patience, able to take time for careful consideration.

She didn’t.

She wanted it all. Right now.

So she slipped her hands up between her and him, wanting to unfasten the buttons of his wet shirt. But found she couldn’t. The wet made the material hard to manoeuvre. So she just pulled, heard the rip, then felt the warmth. Fingertips touching the smooth skin that sheathed hard muscle.

She felt her moan rather than heard it. Loved it when he yanked her that little bit closer in reply. Soft became stronger. His hands lifted and worked into her hair, holding it tight at the roots. He took a step forward, forcing her back against the bar.

She ran her hands across the top of his chest, loving the heated strength. His hands massaged in her hair, fingers working through its length. Then one came to cup her jaw, to hold her as his kisses grew in intensity and her response grew more fevered.

She’d never imagined he’d kiss like this. That Mr In Control could have her so out of control in just a few minutes. She felt the shift deep inside. Her body readying, ripening. Wanting it all.

He seemed to sense it. His hands moved from her hair and face to her waist where they gripped and he lifted her up to seat her on the bar. He lifted his head and looked at her while his hands went to her knees—pushing them apart so he could stand between them. Then he reached round her back again and slid her forward on the bar so she perched right on the edge of it—so her open body was pressed against his. Unhesitatingly she wound her legs around his waist. This was what she’d wanted from the first moment she’d clapped eyes on him. Lust at first sight. Suit be damned.

The kisses resumed—deep, his tongue searching, conquering. And she ran her hands over his shoulders, pulling at the remnants of the wet shirt, pulling it down his arms until he shook it free, flinging it over the bar. She took a second to study the bronzed torso before her. Still damp, super hot. Defined muscles bunched, taut nipples tempted her, but before she could do as she wanted and lean in to taste he was pushing her skirt up to bare her thighs. His fingers trailed fire, teasing, striking at her need. His smile grew wicked at her sharp inhalation of breath. He undid the button at the back. This guy might seem to be square but he was by no means inexperienced in the art of undressing a woman. Maybe he was more of a player than she’d realised. Maybe it wasn’t all work. Right now she couldn’t care less. In fact it was cause for celebration; the sooner they were both free of fabric, the happier she’d be. He unzipped the skirt and, bunching it in his hands, slipped it up, scooping her top at the same time and taking both off over her head. She raised her arms to help. Then she was in panties, bra and cowgirl boots. His hands smoothed over her thighs, rubbing ever upwards while his head bent to kiss soft, hot kisses from her collar-bones to her peaking breasts. She gasped, things were happening fast now—her body melting, desperate for him, but her brain couldn’t keep up. She needed to keep some semblance of control—of protection.

‘You know you’re still not my type.’ It sounded so schoolgirl but it was the best she could come up with under pressing circumstances.

‘And you’re not mine, but we’re doing this regardless.’

Oh, yes.

Her panties were wetter than his shirt had been and she didn’t have the postmix to blame. The sense of urgency increased.

His hands slipped the bra straps from her shoulders and unclasped the back of it. He stared at her bared breasts. She could see the flush in his face.

‘Condom?’ One word. Primitive male.

‘Bathroom.’ She panted. ‘Dispenser.’

He scooped her off the bar and she tightened her legs round his waist, kissing him. He headed in the direction of the toilets.

She pulled back. ‘Coin-operated.’

He swore and then swiftly headed to the back of the bar. His skill at walking while carrying and kissing her was impressive.

He punched at the cash register and took coins from the compartments.

‘Discrepancies in the till,’ she muttered as she lifted her head from nuzzling his warm, rough jaw.

‘I’ll replace it later.’

‘That’s what they all say.’ She felt his chuckle and giggled aloud herself.

He hoisted her higher so he could suck her nipples as he walked through the bar to the restrooms. Lucy was thankful she’d cleared the chairs from the floor space—ample room to weave over the floor in abandon.

They made it to the bathroom. He barged through the door and pulled up next to the vending machine.

She looked at him. He was unable to operate the machine while holding her.

‘I’m not letting you go.’ He grinned. ‘I can feel that wet heat through your panties on my stomach and it’s a sensation I’m not willing to give up yet.’

She twisted round to get the coins from him and dropped them in the slot. ‘Preference?’

‘You choose.’

He was making any kind of decision impossible, the way he was nipping at her breast. Teasing. She pressed the first button and with satisfaction pulled the package from the hold, waving it in victory above her head. He rewarded her with a kiss even hotter than before.

She had to break it, tipping her head, letting her hair tumble down her back, winding her arms tighter round his neck, enjoying the movement of his hard abs against her as he walked.

He strode back through to the bar and with single-minded purpose went to the far end of the room and laid her on the pool table. He kicked off his shoes and his trousers slipped from his waist. He stretched forward onto the table. His shoulders broad, his arms long and muscular as they braced over her. She lay back, propped on her elbows, delighting in the hunger she saw in his face as he skimmed down her body, stopping at her centre.

He pressed his open mouth to the crotch of her panties. Her hips jerked. Her hands fisted. Her squeal instant. Involuntary. Ecstatic.

He looked up to her and spoke, the old challenge back in his eyes. ‘I hope I’m not going too fast for you?’

She looked down at him, his handsome face between her spread thighs, his near-naked body primed and poised. She licked her lips and drawled right back at him. ‘I think I can keep up.’

Fact was he wasn’t going fast enough. Would he just get her panties off! He bent to her again but she couldn’t stand it. The sensation of his mouth on her, his tongue tasting, but that scrap of silk in the way. She went to rectify it herself, her hands going to the elastic waistband, tugging it down, but his hands covered hers, stopping her actions.

He looked up at her. ‘I like to unwrap my presents slowly, savour each part as it’s revealed.’

‘I like to rip the paper off and play with the toy right away.’

‘This isn’t going to be over in thirty seconds, Lucy. This isn’t one toy that you’re going to play with, break and forget about in five minutes.’

Their eyes met in deadlock.

‘You think?’ She’d better forget about him in five minutes. This was so not a good idea but, hell, too late now.

‘I know.’

His confidence simultaneously annoyed and excited her. ‘Prove it.’

He threw his head back and laughed. ‘I don’t need to prove it, Trouble. I only have to touch you like this and I know.’ He slid a finger under the leg of her panties and stroked—just the once. She clamped her jaw to stop the moan escaping.

‘See?’ His finger left her panties again. ‘Now where was I?’ He looked down again. ‘Unwrapping.’

He ran his tongue along the edge of her panties. Her stomach muscles contracted. His hands slid up her torso to toy with her breasts again. It was then she realised Daniel might not play as fair as he ought. He was deliberately setting out to torment her.

That thought gave her the licence to abandon herself completely. Give over to his way of doing things. Let him have this moment. She’d have her turn shortly. Fine. That wasn’t so difficult. So she let go, her hips moving as she wanted, rising to meet his kisses, enabling him to remove her panties inch by painfully slow inch. She let her arms float in the air as he buried his face into her—learning her.

When his tongue flicked against her, her whole body tensed. His rhythm increased. Oh, yes. She’d take it now. Moments from climax, she called to him. ‘Oh, yes. Yes!’

Then suddenly he slowed, right when she wanted it fast to take her that last inch to ecstasy.

And while it was wildly frustrating it was also incredibly intense, ratcheting up her excitement to a level she hadn’t known was possible. Then he began to speed up again.

She smiled as she sighed. This time.

But just as she neared he slowed again—right down. Torturous.

‘Daniel.’

He lifted his head and gave her a wicked look. ‘I’m not boring you now, am I?’

She threw him a look of utter venom and he threw back his head and laughed. Then the smile turned sinful again and he bent to tease her some more.

She felt even more excited by the way he’d suddenly become so playful, provocative, passionate. But it was time for her to take charge. Heat flooded through her, as did a surge of female strength. She sat up, slipping her hips back from him. He looked up.

‘Come here.’

He pulled up onto the pool table, stretching out beside her.

She ran a forceful arm from his shoulder to belly. ‘Don’t think you can mess with me, Daniel.’

‘Why? What are you going to do about it?’

Make him pay. He’d said she was a tease, although it seemed to her that the boot was on the other foot—his. Well, she could give as good as she got.

She pushed his chest so he lay down and moved to straddle him. Then she slid up onto his belly so his erection didn’t press against her—she knew her own limitations and getting too close to that would be game over. She leant over him, watching as his pupils widened the nearer her breasts got. She knew he liked them, had seen him sneaking quick peeks at them from the moment they’d first met. The way he’d been burying his face in them when she’d been getting the condom had been a bit of a give-away too. She brushed her nipples against his open mouth. Shivered as he expertly caught one in his mouth. She let him tease a little before pulling back. He was going to be the one in trouble.

She bent, trailing kisses down his chest, wanting to get to know him—all of him. But he grabbed her hair, pulling her away from him. Took her by the shoulders and lifted her to lie beside him. Then he rolled onto her, trapped her. She was happy to be caught. He held her gaze. ‘What do you want from me?’

‘Everything you have to offer.’ Flippant but at the same time, for once in her life, totally honest.

‘And what do I get in return?’

‘The same.’ She ran her hand across his shoulders, the heady passion making her reveal more than she intended. ‘You have such a beautiful body.’

‘So it’s my body you want. Not my mind?’

She frowned. ‘I think we should leave our minds out of it.’ She reached up to touch him again, breathe in his scent. ‘No thoughts. No analysis…’

‘No regrets.’ He kissed her. ‘Just tonight. Just once.’

He’d told her in the temp agency he didn’t do commitment. Nor did she—not with him. Neither of them would ever commit to their polar opposite.

She kissed her acquiescence. Once was just fine—so long as it was right now.

He lifted his head and muttered, ‘Where’s the condom?’

She found it near the top right-hand pocket of the pool table. She grabbed it, pausing as she saw he lay in the rectangle of light from the streetlights outside. Stretched out like some superb sex god—relaxed but ready for action.

He’d slipped his boxers off while she’d retrieved the packet so she saw him utterly naked for the first time.

She drew in another sharp breath. Thank God he’d had the towel around him at the pool the other day—if he’d been in swimwear designed to show off that bulge she’d have been hard pressed not to have pounced sooner. As it was she was about to do something stupid but it was far, far too late. Her brain was rendered inoperable. All she wanted was him. Her hands shook.

‘Everything OK?’

‘Oh, yes.’ She glanced down again. ‘Fine.’

‘Sure?’

‘Uh-huh.’ She couldn’t get the packet open, her fingers were so clumsy.

All she wanted was for him to be inside her. Now, now, now. She wanted to explore him.

He chuckled. ‘Let me do that.’

He had it open in a second and rolled it on—she drank in every detail as he did so. Oh. Yes.

He looked up at her. Reached a hand out to caress the side of her cheek and draw her close for another blistering kiss. How could he affect her like this? How could she have lost all defences just like that?

He gently pushed her back, taking control, setting up their position. A good thing seeing how she’d seemed to have lost all capability. He kissed down the length of her again, his hands teased as her body trembled. She was at the point of losing it. She wound her arms around him, pulled at him to come back up her, to lie on her, to push that magnificent penis in where it belonged. Her breathing was audible—half moans, almost entreaties. Uncaring of how desperate she sounded, she called to him. There was no room for a cool, sarcastic veneer here. The only thing in her mind and body was want. He moved to answer her.

She parted her legs, wriggled her hips, positioning them to cradle his. She nipped at his lips. ‘Don’t even think about stopping now.’

‘No,’ he agreed, his mouth plundering hers once more. She stilled, waiting for the moment. He looked to her face, expression hot, as he read her soul in the moment they met.

She cried out, her head tipping back, closing her eyes from his intensity—only able to cope with the feel of him, not the vision as well…not yet. That was too much, too overwhelming. Once, twice, he stroked and then it hit. The tornado of excitement he’d been brewing in her all evening—all week. Her legs and arms tautened, tensing hard enough to cause muscle-burn, and her fingers caught in his hair, pulling, twisting as unbearable pleasure wrenched through her.

The screams were pure instinct, an animal response to the experience of utter joy.

He paused while her body shook out the sensations. Twisting. Trembling.

Finally she opened her eyes and took in his look of arrogant satisfaction. She felt the confidence in the way his arms encircled her. The sight of such masculine control brought her feminine fighter to the fore.

He was enjoying himself, oh, yes. But that wasn’t enough for her. She wanted him to lose it. As she just had. And she wanted to be the one to make him. She gulped in a hit of oxygen and smiled. Then she worked her muscles. She saw his eyes widen. Worked them harder—her smile growing as she felt the hiss of air forced from his lungs. Lifting her head to twirl her tongue around his nipple, she took a tight butt cheek in each hand and pressed him closer. He wasn’t the only one who could satisfy.

She felt his power surge as the game went up another level. Felt him rally to challenge right back and she blindly laughed—a low, husky laugh that he echoed. And then she kissed him, her mouth caressing every available inch of skin within her reach as she trailed her hands over him, gently at first, then not so gentle, and then with authority, sweeping down his back, demanding he keep time with the rhythm of her body.

His hands cupped her bottom, holding her to him, tighter as he took charge again. She clasped him close. All thought gone. All reason vanished. Only indescribable feelings that finally focused into rapture when she heard his cry and felt his control break.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Objective feedback is always helpful

SHE woke with a start. The chill of pre-dawn hit her together with confusion. For a split second she couldn’t think, couldn’t remember where she was, who she was with. All she sensed was the smell of stale beer and the stifling weight of someone on her. Terror-struck, she flinched and pushed in panic. Memories—old and new—rushed back.

In the bar. Daniel. She was with Daniel. Real. Not the fuzzy stranger who invaded her sleep and gave her nightmares. She sucked in a deep breath and relaxed, safe. But then she realised she must have fallen asleep.

At her movement he jerked his head up. ‘What?’ He blinked, looking into her eyes. For a moment the same confusion flashed across his face. Then he closed it down, shuttering his expression, and their eyes locked, neither giving anything away.

For once she won the duel. He looked away, a small frown pleating his brow.

She wriggled, wanting to escape the intimacy. He moved so she could sit up. She was amazed at her lapse. She never slept with a lover. Had sex, sure, but never allowed herself to lose consciousness—that was too intimate, too vulnerable. Lucy didn’t do vulnerability. She refused to put herself in the position of giving someone else control over her heart, mind or body.

The scary thing was, she’d almost given Daniel exactly that. How much had she given away just now? Not just her body. Her heart was putting itself on a plate this very minute. She took it straight back to the fridge.

‘You’re getting cold?’ He clipped out the words as he moved away from her. ‘I’m sorry, I fell asleep.’

She flinched. She wasn’t the only one going cold; he was as icy as the moment she’d first met him—remote, detached, disapproving. Her whole body hit sub-zero temperatures. She didn’t know why his emotional detachment bothered her. He’d said once only. She already knew he didn’t do commitment. Hell, she didn’t do commitment—not at this point in her life. So much for no regrets. He looked as if he was itching to get out of here. Definitely not wanting to talk about it. Well, she wasn’t going to do a cringesome cling-on act. She needed to save face and reestablish a protective layer. She’d never expected him to be so potent, so passionate. Time to back-pedal—fast. She hid behind the curtain of her hair. ‘Well, I guess we got that out of the way.’

‘Out of the way?’

She flicked her hair back and bluffed indifference. ‘Yeah, scratched the itch. Quenched the curiosity.’

‘Curiosity?’

‘Mmm hmm.’ She swung her legs off the pool table. Oh, man, she was still wearing her boots.

His hand caught her arm and he turned her to face him. ‘What exactly are you saying, Ms Delaney?’

‘I’m saying, Mr Graydon, that that was fun.’

‘Fun?’ He stared at her, but she couldn’t figure a thing from the lights reflected in his eyes.

‘Sure. It was OK. But we won’t be doing it again.’

‘We won’t.’

She shook her head. ‘Too messy.’

He glanced at the felt of the pool table. She followed suit and felt her cheeks fill with blood. Her wet and his sweat marked it. Hell. She’d have to hand in her notice immediately. Frustration flooded through her. She’d just done this job so well. For the first time she’d actually aced something. Now she’d stuffed it by sleeping with her Type A boss who’d just been waiting for her to trip up. Any other gig and she’d be on the road, not willing to put up with that kind of pressure.

The frustration turned into fight. She was tired of starting over. She’d had her first taste of success and she wanted another. She wanted to show him three times over. Besides, she needed the cash.

Even more reason to blow the whistle on this little interlude. She’d do it as coolly as she could and ignore the way she was quaking inside. Block out that secretly she wanted more. No vulnerability allowed—not around Mr Ice.

‘Look, Daniel. I’m working for you. I was curious. It was nice but we’re done. Let’s go back to our business relationship, shall we? I’m sorry. Blame it on the heat of the night—the success of the relaunch went to my head.’

His eyes didn’t leave her face the entire time she spoke. She curled her fingers into fists and tried to ignore his superb nudity.

‘And caused you to ravish me.’

‘Ravish you?’ He’d done the ravishing. She sure felt like she’d been ravished. He’d broken down defences she’d been sure were insurmountable. But he didn’t know that and, even if he did, if his current expression was anything to go by, he didn’t care.

‘I wasn’t the one who ripped the buttons off this shirt.’ His muscles flexed across his back as he bent to retrieve it.

OK, so she’d been eager to get it started.

‘I wasn’t the one who couldn’t open the condom packet because of having the shakes so bad.’

There was nothing she could say to that so she went for the silent, avoid-eye-contact approach.

He stepped back towards her as she sat on the edge of the table. ‘I wasn’t the one screaming the house down.’

Now that was below the belt. She looked away from the rippling muscles on show and swallowed back the desire. Let icy anger trickle in.

‘Come on. You were all over me.’

Well, of course she was. He was a god. He had the body of an Olympian and the technique of a master. She’d been weak just by looking and conquered with the first kiss. She had to pull back now because he was never going to be reciprocating her kind of stupidity. Once only. No analysis.

He took her silence in the way she intended. ‘Never again?’

She shook her head.

‘We’ve satisfied your curiosity and once was enough?’

She nodded.

He took another step forward and ran his finger from her neck to her breast—and she couldn’t control the tremor. ‘How long has it been?’

Oh, so he thought that was relevant? She refused to look at him. Maybe it was. Maybe that was why she felt so in danger of emotional investment. Honestly, she’d been without for so long even she could hardly remember.

‘That long, huh?’ A little laugh escaped him—whisker of humanity. That it was amusement at her expense made her mad. He ran his finger over her tightly shut lips, teasing them. ‘You know, you’re not so good with manners, Lucy. Didn’t anyone ever teach you to mind your “p”s and “q”s?’

She threw him a vile look. His smile faded and the mask of indifference that took its place was much better than hers had been—probably because it was genuine.

‘So we haven’t broken through your male-bravado layer. Maybe we never will. Whatever.’

He strolled from the pool table with casual ease. ‘Come on, let’s go.’ He collected his scattered clothing along the way.

She stood up and stared after him. Deflated. Well, she’d done it. Had she been hoping for more of an argument from him? Or wanting him to say, ‘No, babe, that was fantastic, we’ve got to do it again’? At least offer some clue to his thoughts? He was shut up tighter than a twenty-year-old jar of pickled peppers. She watched as he pulled on his boxers, then felt irritated as a feeling of loss hit her when his body was hidden from her again.

He pulled on the trousers but held his sodden shirt in his hand. ‘We’ll share a cab.’

Panic surged as a new threat occurred to her. ‘No, that’s OK. I can walk.’

‘No. It’s late. You’re tired.’

‘It’s almost light out. I’ll be fine.’