His Permanent Mistress: Mistress Under Contract

His lips were so close and he tilted her chin with a finger to bring hers nearer. Her lids fluttered lower so she wouldn’t have to look into his eyes and openly admit defeat.

The finger under her chin pulled her another inch closer and with a small sigh she melted. There was no hesitation—she was unable to resist a second longer. She opened for him, reached for him, curling her fingers into the hair at the back of his head. Sweet relief flooded through her as his arms went around her and hauled her close—he wanted her. He held back from the kiss. She could feel him studying her. She refused to open her eyes but leaned against him, wordlessly wanting him to understand she was so very willing.

She heard him half laugh under his breath, then felt him slip his arm under her knees to scoop her up. He made her feel weightless, wanted. He strode quickly, surely. She kept her eyes shut and let her body simply feel. The strength of his arms as they held her—as close as they’d been in the water, but this was better because she knew she was about to get it all from him. She could hardly wait.

She felt the mattress beneath her and was sorry when his arms slipped from under her. But satisfaction soon followed as she felt the bed depress with his weight, heard the foil rip and knew he was ready. Then his hands were on her, stroking the skin her top exposed. He pulled up the hem so her stomach was bared. His fingers traced the path, his lips followed. She shook as they touched her, her muscles spasmed involuntarily. He responded immediately, his hands sliding to where her breasts were bursting from her bra. Hard, overly sensitive nipples that ached for his hot mouth. She moaned as he read her mind and closed over her, sucking her nipple in—material and all. Her legs parted immediately as he pressed his weight onto her lower body. He unbuttoned her top with quick fingers and simply pushed the cups of her bra down so her breasts spilled over. He took them in his hands and tasted. Teased. She arched back, baring her neck, straining her pelvis up.

There were too many clothes—despite his near nudity. Again he read her mind. He rolled, quickly removing her skirt. No slow unwrapping this time. Her panties flew through the air. Then her bra. Then his boxers. He leant over her again and they were almost together in one mad moment. He held back—just—and instead teased her, his hand in place between her legs as his mouth devoured hers. He lifted his head a little as his fingers played harder. With amusement in his eye he watched her reaction.

She sucked in a gasp of air and for a second the fog of lust cleared. This was not a good idea. She’d get emotional. He wouldn’t. But she closed her eyes, closing her brain down—refusing to let it ruin such a good time.

He wasn’t having it. ‘Open your eyes, Lucy,’ he muttered as he nibbled on her neck.

She screwed them tighter.

‘Open them or I stop.’

She opened them.

‘Got anything to say?’

‘Like what?’

‘Please.’

She clamped her mouth shut.

He grinned. ‘I’m really going to enjoy making you say it.’

Oh, she hoped so. Naughty Lucy.

‘Because that’s what you really want, isn’t it? Me to do my best to make you.’ He laughed.

Damn. He could read her like a book.

So she flipped it open. ‘Oh, Daniel. Make love to me.’ It was her best Marilyn Monroe impersonation ever—laced with a slurp of irony.

‘You’re going to have to do better than that, Trouble. I want genuine. Desperate. Need.’

He bent to attend to her breasts again and she gave his ceiling a rueful smile. She was seconds away from admitting all that and more. He began to work his way down her body—kissing, caressing, turning up the heat. It was magic how he became so hot and made her feel as if he were worshipping her body. He made her feel so wanted—every cell in her was on fire. He’d gone straight to the furnace and was stoking it, fuelling her until she was hotter than she’d ever been. Driving her relentlessly close, so close, to climax.

He touched her again, deep into her core. ‘The other night you said you didn’t want this again.’

‘I…’ can’t speak—not when he was toying with her like that.

His thumb rubbed her. ‘You weren’t that attracted.’

She lifted her hips up, pushing against him. Wanting this but more than this. Wanting the whole lot of him.

He rubbed that little bit harder and faster. His fingers delved deeper. ‘Will you admit that was wrong?’

He kissed her belly. Heat—desire-fuelled and that of pure irritation—flooded her. ‘Is this how you cross-examine your witnesses?’ She moaned. ‘No wonder you always win.’

She felt his smile on her stomach. He continued his tortuous path downwards. ‘Part of my job involves assessing whether people are telling the truth or not.’ His mouth reached the point where his thumb still worked. ‘I’m pretty good at my job.’

His mouth replaced the thumb—his tongue flicking, while his fingers, still deep, moved faster.

She cried out, raking his shoulders with her hands.

‘What?’ he asked, his hot breath nearly destroying her.

‘Please, please, please.’

He moved quickly, his fingers gone, his humour vanished. In a split second he was on top of her, his body holding hers down. She could feel his erection right against her. So, so close—she nearly cried with the need of it.

He took her hands in his and lifted them so they were pinned by her ears. Right at the point of entry he stopped, fixing her with his gaze, cold gold sparks penetrating. She stared up at him. Stilled by the intensity and ferocity in his face.

His grip tightened on her almost to the point of pain. He spoke, passion audible. ‘Never lie to me again.’

She gasped. She wanted him so much, but was terrified of how far he saw—right through her. Every last inch. She blinked rapidly. ‘OK.’

He surged forward—knowing her inside and out. She gasped again, a silent scream as she got the one thing she’d been wanting all week. It was better than she remembered. Better than she’d dreamed.

His grip on her hands loosened and she adjusted hers—lacing her fingers through his. Locking them in that position—just as their bodies were now locked: eye to eye, palm to palm, thigh to thigh. One.

Their gaze remained unbroken. She saw his anger and lust. She’d never been so close to anyone, never seen naked desire like this. Never felt such frustration and basic emotion on show. She knew her face reflected the same.

Their bodies embraced, closer, ever closer. So intense was her consciousness that she came close to circuiting out, but she couldn’t bear to close her eyes. Impossible—she couldn’t break away from him. Lines had been opened between them, like a channel to the soul. She found it as fascinating as she did terrifying.

She’d never had sex like this.

She’d never made love like this.

As his hips pressed to meet her rising ones, as he worked deeper and deeper in, the intensity grew. The more she wanted to look away, the more she couldn’t. And then her body shorted and took the decision away from her. As the ecstasy hit her eyelids fluttered and his face was lost to her for moments as her body shook and his name passed unthinkingly, unwillingly from her lips again and again.

When she opened her eyes again it was to find his still bearing down on her, watching her surrender to the joy he’d given her with pure satisfaction. She wanted the same for him. She wanted him to have the same pleasure in her arms that she got from his. Her fingers flexed. He must have seen the desire in her eyes because his mouth twisted into a smile. He bent his head and kissed her, his mouth possessing as deeply and fully as the rest of his body already was—and she kissed him back with all the honesty she could. Uncaring of the degree to which she was revealing her need for him. He knew it anyway and he didn’t like her hiding it. So she gave it free rein. Caressing him, whispering what she wanted, what she liked, asking the same from him, wanting to please him, wanting to make his studious control evaporate. It didn’t take that long. His body went rigid and she tasted his groan as it was forced from him. She slipped her fingers from his and wrapped her arms around him, holding him as he came. Embracing all he had—all he was. And, in doing so, came all over again herself.

For long moments after she lay, still trembling, still in shock. She was too scared to look at him so she burrowed under his hot body. She didn’t know what to say. She’d just had the most intimate moment of her life and she was terrified.

Eventually he spoke. ‘I don’t know about you, but I’m still not tired.’

‘No.’ Right now she didn’t think she’d ever sleep again. Adrenalin raced through her. How had this guy suddenly become everything?

‘Still got more energy to burn?’ How could he sound so casual after the intensity of that sex? Probably because that was all it was for him—sex.

‘Let’s burn.’ Well, that was all it would be for her too. Sex—she needed it hard, fast and mindless. She needed pure body—not the merging of everything, the total sharing of minutes before. She needed to think of him purely as a source of pleasure—but as she cried out in his arms again, as she felt his body buckle in bliss, she knew she couldn’t ever think of him as such an object.

She was in big, big trouble. But as she lay cocooned in his arms his deep, regular breathing soothed her. The cotton sheet cooled her hot, over-sensitive skin and she slept at peace.

She woke in panic. She’d just slept with him. For hours, not minutes. And it felt fantastic. She’d entered a sweet dreamless state. That it had happened freaked her out almost as much as the nightmare that had haunted her for years. How was it she felt so safe with Daniel? When he challenged her every which way? When he was so remote and reserved?

‘Are we going to do this again?’

She looked at him. ‘Um.’

He stared straight at her, speaking as matter-of-fact as usual. Cut and dried. He could have been discussing a purchase of bread and milk, he sounded so everyday. ‘Because frankly I’m keen, but I can’t be bothered with the “Oh, no, I don’t want to” rubbish I had from you last week.’

Her jaw fell open. He shut it for her with a push of his finger against her chin and gave her a grin that only just let him get away with it.

‘I want you. We’re good in bed together, Lucy. We might not have much else in common, but we can do satisfaction. And then we both sleep. Noticed that?’

Of course. It was crazy. She felt more rested than she had in years—even though they’d slept only a few hours. But a perfect, deep sleep—the sort she usually dreamed of as she lay awake hour after hour through the dark night. No nightmares. She’d felt secure, safe.

‘You’re the best cure for insomnia I’ve ever had.’

‘I’m not quite sure that’s a compliment.’

He laughed. ‘Touché.’ He sat up in the bed, resting his elbows on his raised knees. ‘You physically and mentally exhaust me.’

‘And that’s a good thing?’

‘It is, because then I can sleep and that feels fantastic.’He turned and caught her gaze full on again. ‘Tell me it isn’t the same for you.’

She’d promised him she wouldn’t lie. It was the same. Sparring with him, wondering what angle he was coming from. Trying to figure out what the hell was going on in that overly complex brain of his—and trying to hide what was going on in hers—wore her out. And then there was the sex—consuming every ounce of physical energy she had. Leaving her drained yet replete. Exhausted but invigorated. And able to sleep—in his arms.

‘I sleep OK with you.’ She’d said she wouldn’t lie; as far as she was concerned understating things was still allowed.

‘So it’s a deal, then? We sleep together—all senses of the word.’

She supposed she should say no. Most other women would. Ha—that was a lie: most women would leap at the chance to be with Daniel night after night. His lover credentials were unbeatable. Physique plus technique equals magnifique.

She just had to remember there was nothing else on offer here. Merely a deal to sleep with someone—two insomniacs having regular sex in the quest for a decent night’s rest after.

Anyway, she shouldn’t want anything else, should she? Not from a shining example of modern conservative establishment like Daniel.

‘OK.’ She nodded. ‘Someone to sleep with.’ That was all he would be. Her bedmate.

He kissed her. ‘I have to go to work. Be here tonight.’

Who was she kidding? When he kissed her like that fantasies of night after night leading to for ever skipped through her head. She frowned. ‘After the club?’

He nodded. ‘My bed.’

She looked down. She was afraid that, now he’d seen into her once, he’d see all there was to see all the time. That she was turning all female and falling for him. What had happened to her bluffing skills?

He took her chin again and tilted her face back to him. ‘No regrets.’

Once more he kissed her—thoroughly, deeply, teasingly. And it was so unfair because now she was left in bed warm and wet and wanting all over once more and he was gone for the day. She should be gone for good. Instead she rolled over and snuggled in the scent of him, in his sheets. So she couldn’t say no, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t come up with a strategy. She’d challenge him right back.

CHAPTER TEN

You find it difficult to switch off from your job

WHEN Lucy got home in the early hours Daniel was lying on the sofa reading, waiting.

‘Have you eaten?’

She shook her head and glanced at the spotless kitchen. ‘Nor have you.’

‘Let’s get pizza.’ Instead of reaching for the phone, he reached for her instead. He tipped her head back and she opened her mouth and welcomed him with her tongue, her arms, the press of her pelvis against his.

He lifted away fractionally. ‘What do you want? Really want. And I don’t mean on your pizza.’

‘I want to come. I want you to make me come. I want you to come with me.’ She’d turned into a nymphomaniac just like that. She’d always craved freedom—rebelled against her family, her school, any form of authority. It was why she loved dancing. But that freedom was nothing on the freedom she’d found in his arms. The way she could be held but made to feel as if she were flying. It was a freedom that kept her chained to him. She needed to combat it—by seeing how far she could push him. ‘You phone the pizza. I’ll be back in a minute.’

His gaze hit on her cowboy hat the minute she came back into the room twirling it. His smile grew. ‘You want me to dress up as a cowboy?’

‘Oh, no. You’ve got it all wrong.’ She donned the hat at a rakish angle and pouted. ‘I’m the one who does the riding.’

He put on an appalling western accent. ‘Well, jump on, darlin’. This stallion is more than a little frisky—care to break him in?’

‘Actually, no, I was hoping for a wild ride.’

His brows shot up.

She walked towards him, letting her hips sway. ‘Ever done that, Daniel? Ever totally given up control? Ever just done what you wanted regardless of how crazy just because it felt too good not to?’

‘I thought I did that last night.’

‘I think you can do better.’

‘Do you now?’

‘Maybe. Can you, Daniel? Forget everything but how you feel? Can you not think? That enough of a challenge for you?’

‘Not think? Trouble, if I was thinking, I wouldn’t be here right now.’

Her mouth softened in appreciation. If she were thinking she’d be out of here too. Instead the feeling was too good to ignore. ‘Dance with me.’

He took her in waltz hold and expertly span her around the room. She pushed him away, waggling her finger at him as if he were a naughty schoolboy. ‘You’re still in control, Daniel. I want you to lose it.’

He pulled her closer. ‘You know, you’re not that great at letting go either, Lucy. You’re too busy coming up with cutting comments and being all prickly.’

She stared up at him. There were reasons for the prickles. Good ones. Protective ones.

His eyes accused her. ‘You don’t want anyone to get too close.’

Well, he was as guilty of that as she was. And, yeah, she found it hard to trust people. Now the person she trusted least was herself. She wanted Daniel beyond belief but he couldn’t give her anything more than his body—and even that was only on short-term loan, so she had to do the protective thing more than ever.

‘Ever let go, Lucy? Ever not think?’ This wasn’t right—he wasn’t supposed to turn the tables.

‘On the dance floor.’

‘OK.’ Wicked light flared in his eyes. ‘Dance for me.’

She stepped back from him, her smile of delight wide as she figured the way to rule him again. ‘You want me to strip too?’

‘I…um…’

The key to success—she’d just rendered him speechless. Out of control was fast approaching, for both of them. She shimmied towards him. ‘I’m dancing to country, you know, in my head.’

‘As I can’t hear it, that’s just fine.’

She spent the night in his arms. Sleeping with him. All night. Relaxed. Secure. Everything she’d wanted, from the wrong man—the emotional vacuum that was Daniel Graydon. Fate was nasty.

He rose early. From his bed she watched through the open door as he shaved and showered. He walked back through. Silent. She could see he was miles away, no doubt already mentally slugging it out in the courtroom. He dressed. Dark suit, white shirt, dark tie. Her passionate, playful lover disappeared under the guise, turned into a frowning figure. Austere. She hated it.

Then he surprised her by turning to her with a smile that made her forget his clothing. ‘Walk with me. Come and see where I work.’

She didn’t want to. She really didn’t want to. ‘Why?’

He shrugged. ‘Why not? A walk in the early-morning sun will do you some good.’

She slipped from the bed and pretended to ignore the growing glitter in his eyes as she stepped into her jeans.

‘Do you always go commando?’

She grinned and shook her head.

‘I’m not sure I believe you. Every time I tell you to get dressed you don’t bother with underwear.’

‘It’s the rebel in me. I’m doing as asked but not all the way. My little act of defiance.’

He chuckled. ‘Yeah. That figures.’

Daniel had left all the files at the office to be brought over by his team so, other than his briefcase, he was unburdened on the walk. They called into the café and got coffee to go.

‘You don’t want food?’ Lucy asked.

‘Maybe later,’ he answered distractedly.

She swiped a banana from the bowl on the counter and added it to her purchase.

As they headed into lawyerville Lucy’s feeling of intimidation grew. Insecure, threatened, she thought she saw everyone looking her way. Conscious of her ancient jeans and less-than-fresh top, she had a needy moment. ‘They probably think I’m one of your clients.’

‘Probably,’ Daniel answered carelessly.

He stopped walking and turned to her, briefcase in one hand while the other lifted to her face. Then he combed his fingers through her hair, cupping the back of her head and pulling her close. The kiss was sweltering. Hot, hungry, open. No restraint. His briefcase hit the ground as his other hand slipped beneath the waistband of her jeans and curved around her bare buttock, squeezing gently. Just as suddenly it was over.

She snaked in a breath and wished they were miles away from here. Together, alone and naked.

Daniel grinned at her. ‘Now they don’t.’

She glanced around the group of lawyers. Saw them swapping stunned looks.

‘You’re a bad influence on me, Lucy.’

‘Why’s that?’

‘You have me liking to shock people.’

She handed him the banana. ‘To keep your energy up.’

He took it with a smile and went to join his team.

Not liking the way he fitted in so perfectly with them she turned and walked—fast, almost smacking straight into Sarah.

‘Hello, Lucy.’ She had a frozen smile pinned to her face and icicles in her eyes. Lucy knew she wasn’t cutting the mustard as far as Sarah was concerned. She knew Sarah had seen that shattering kiss. She’d looked shocked, though not half as shocked as Lucy.

The day passed in a haze. Lucy went to work in the early afternoon and did some more on her proposal—the one she’d give to Lara on her return. She had some ideas about taking the club to the next level and ached to be given the chance to do it. She liked nothing more than hanging out there. It was second only to the time in Daniel’s bed. She was filled with desires she’d never expected to experience. Wanting to work. Wanting to love.

Late afternoon and punters arrived. Isabel clocked on to help with the post-work rush. Lucy smiled at the regulars she was getting to know well. She was actually content.

Daniel appeared late in the evening. She’d been wondering how he’d got on, and worrying about the hours he worked. Hell. She was turning into his mother. He sat at the end of the bar—his usual seat—and ordered a whiskey. She felt his eyes on her, watching her every move as she poured the drink. She set it in front of him but said nothing, sensing his need for space. So she moved about the bar, serving patrons, chatting with Isabel, clearing glasses and all the while intensely aware of him as he sat and sipped and stared after her.

He looked wired. He should be home asleep. She wondered what was going on in that brain of his. She knew the trouble he had in shutting it down. Eventually she could take it no longer. Telling Isabel she was taking a break, she went to the end of the bar, took hold of his hand and pulled. He stood and let her lead him behind the bar to the back office. She closed and locked the door.

He went ahead and sat on the sofa, watching as she moved towards him, purpose explicit. His lips curled in anticipation. She slipped her panties off, leaving her skirt on, and unbuttoned her black satin blouse so her bra was revealed. She said nothing. Didn’t need to.

She straddled him, stroked his face with her fingertips, easing the hard planes of his jaw. He sat rapt. She leant forward to tease his lips with the tips of her nipples. Her breathing and pulse accelerated as his tongue darted.

His hand slid beneath her skirt. ‘I love it when you’re like this.’ His fingers teased her. ‘Can I…?’

‘You can do anything you want.’

Licence to thrill—her. And he soon had her spiralling out of control. She shook her head, breathless, close to climax. ‘I wasn’t meaning for this…’

His grin was lazy. ‘I like making you come. Watching you. Tasting you. Hearing you.’

But she wasn’t going to let it all be her. She pulled at his clothing—enough to get to him. Grasping, her hand rubbed in time to her own rhythm. Faster and harder as her body contracted.

‘Let me in.’ He groaned. ‘I need to be in now.’

His jaw was stubbled; his troubled eyes burnt into her. She slipped on the protection and slid him home, then set the pace. Slow to start, she watched him, waiting for the moment when his eyes went glassy and sensation took over, switching off his mind, making his body his master—only interested in and able to feel. Then she began to stoke the heat, pumping him harder, faster. Knew she was succeeding when every single one of those hundred or so muscles beneath her tautened and his breath came harsh. His arms came about her tighter. One hand twisting in her hair, the other at her waist, pulling her closer.

‘Lucy…’ He groaned her name as his hips jerked up towards her, faster and faster, and her head fell back as he pulled on her hair. He kissed her neck, nipping at it as he worked the pressure out in a frantic rhythm. And she delighted in it—satisfaction pouring through as they broke free of the tension together.

Finally she felt him relax. She whispered, ‘You should go home and sleep.’