One Passionate Night: His Bride for One Night / One Night at Parenga / His One-Night Mistress

Louise leant close to her right ear. ‘If I didn’t know better, I’d think he meant all that.’

Charlotte almost laughed. She wished.

He was a good actor, that was all. A polished performer. He’d be dynamite in the courtroom.

Dynamite in the bedroom, too, an insidious voice inserted.

‘I’ve been told I have to propose a toast to my bride. So raise your glasses, everyone. To my lovely Charlotte…’ And he looked down at her again.

Daniel was taken aback by the sarcastic light that glittered in Charlotte’s eyes as he drank to her.

What on earth was going on in that girl’s head?

He’d expected her to be a bit unhappy today. Maybe even bitter. But with Gary, not him. He was trying to be a good guy, as Brad had said.

She hadn’t liked him paying for the wedding. Pride, he supposed. Charlotte was proud.

Well, that was too bad because he’d liked giving the Gales that money. He could well afford it and it had made both of them very happy. If Charlotte chose not to see it in that light, then that was her problem.

Frankly, he was getting just a tad irritated with her. She should have been grateful for all he’d done, not looking daggers at him.

When he sat back down, Brad gave him a poke in the ribs. ‘You have to go cut the cake now.’

Daniel sighed. Would this ever end?

They stood up together with Daniel putting his hand on Charlotte’s elbow as they made their way round to the table that housed the three-tiered wedding cake. More smiles. More photographs.

‘And now,’ the MC boomed, ‘the bride and groom will take the floor for the bridal waltz.’

Daniel winced. He’d actually heard of the bridal waltz and always thought it sounded schmaltzy. Suddenly, it seemed hazardous as well. He would have to take Charlotte in his arms and hold her close, and God only knew what would happen after that.

Daniel hesitated, despite the music having started up.

‘Surely you know how to dance,’ his bride said, again with that caustic gleam in her eye.

Right. He’d had enough of this.

With no further ado, he swept her into his arms and onto the dance floor, twirling her round with elegant ease.

His fears over dancing with Charlotte, however, proved correct. No sooner had one hand been clamped to the small of her back and the other curled round her hot little hand than he felt the none too subtle stirrings of his flesh.

Thank goodness for the bridal gown, with its huge skirt and masses of petticoats. No way would Charlotte be able to feel a thing, he soon realised, smiling ruefully as he danced on, masochistically enjoying his arousal.

‘You’re looking very pleased with yourself,’ she tossed at him.

‘I’ll be a lot more pleased when this reception is over,’ he replied, and pulled her just a little closer.

That shut her up.

‘Did you give the porter your overnight bag like we arranged?’ he asked, his mind now solidly on the aftermath of this reception.

‘Yes,’ she replied a bit breathlessly.

‘Good.’ Daniel didn’t want anything going wrong tonight. He had everything planned, and arranged.

‘Er—which one of the bridal suites did you book?’ she asked.

There’d only been the one available. The most expensive one.

‘The Arabian Nights suite,’ he replied, and listened, with a surge of triumph, as she gasped.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHARLOTTE gasped, then gulped. The Arabian Nights suite!

Oh…my… God…

Somehow Charlotte got through the bridal waltz, and the rest of the reception. She smiled at all her relatives when they came up to congratulate her and thanked them for their gifts, which were piled up on a huge table at the back of the reception room.

Charlotte had known not to bother with that bridal-register idea at any of the department stores where guests could order presents from a list and have them delivered to the bride’s house beforehand. Country folk liked to bring their presents to the actual wedding.

Louise kept asking her if she was all right and she kept saying she was fine.

But she wasn’t fine. In her head, she was already in that decadent bridal suite, in that decadent bed, gazing up at the decadent, mirrored ceiling.

Charlotte had been shown all the themed bridal suites when she’d first made enquiries here at the hotel, so she knew exactly what the Arabian Nights suite entailed. Not only was it the most expensive, but it was also the most exotic—and erotic—in decor.

By the time her mother hugged her goodbye, brushing a tear from her eye, Charlotte’s already strung-out nerves were stretched tight as a drum.

‘Look after her for us, Gary,’ her father said as he pumped Daniel’s hand, then turned to hug his daughter.

‘And you look after your husband, Charlotte,’ he advised.

‘I will, Dad,’ she choked out.

‘Now, off you go, you two, and have a great honeymoon. And don’t worry about your wedding presents. Louise and Brad said they’d take them home for you and look after them. Mother and I will be taking off pretty early in the morning so this is goodbye from us for now. Give us a call after you get back from your honeymoon, OK?’

Daniel said they would.

Thankfully, there was a bank of lifts just outside the reception-room doors into which the ‘honeymooners’ raced to the cheers and claps of the happily intoxicated guests.

Fortunately, the lift they caught was empty. It whisked them up to the tenth floor, Charlotte only then realising she’d possibly drunk too much wine on her mostly empty stomach. She’d only managed a bite or two of the dessert, and none of the coffee and mints afterwards.

‘You all right?’ Daniel asked when the doors whooshed open and she stayed clasping the brass railing that ran around the lift wall at hand-height.

‘I think I had a bit too much to drink.’

‘I noticed you didn’t eat much. Are you feeling sick?’

He looked worried, Charlotte noticed.

‘I’ll be all right. Just a slight dizzy spell from the lift.’

‘Here. Take my arm.’

She smiled a wry smile as she did so. ‘Is this you looking after me?’

He grinned. ‘Absolutely. You can look after me later.’

Suddenly, Charlotte was overcome with panic. Because she knew what Daniel meant. Without a doubt, he was expecting her to be a woman of the world, experienced and confident.

‘Daniel, I… There’s something I have to tell you,’ she said. She had to warn him; had to explain that she was not the sexy piece she seemed.

‘There’s nothing you have to tell me, beautiful,’ he said softly, pulling her round into his arms. ‘Tonight is my responsibility, not yours. You don’t have to do a thing. Just lie back and enjoy.’

His words brought a rush of relief, Charlotte realising that if she’d told him she was bad—or boring—in bed, everything would have been spoilt in advance. This way, she had a chance to become the wanton woman she was in her fantasies.

‘But I don’t think I should kiss you just yet,’ he said ruefully. ‘Better we get behind closed doors first.’

A shudder rippled down her spine. ‘Closed doors sounds good,’ she agreed. ‘Have you—er—got the passkey to the suite?’

‘Right here.’ And he patted his pocket.

‘Did you come up to see this particular suite before you booked it?’

‘No. Should I have? Is there something wrong with it?’

‘Not at all,’ Charlotte denied.

But he was in for a surprise. She hoped he liked it. She certainly had, despite being initially startled.

Daniel saw the gleam in her eyes and wondered what was waiting for him. Whatever it was, he was sure he would approve. Anything that pleased Charlotte this much would please him.

The Arabian Nights suite was the first one along the carpeted corridor, its name outlined in gold on the door. Shoving the plastic card into the lock, Daniel waited for the green light, turned the brass handle then pushed the rather heavy door open. The darkness inside was soon dispelled when he slid the card into the slot by the door, the lights coming on automatically.

‘Good God!’ he couldn’t help exclaiming.

‘You think it’s over-the-top?’ she asked, sounding disappointed by his reaction.

‘No, no, it’s fabulous.’

Her face beamed with more happiness than it had all night.

‘Come and see the rest,’ she said excitedly, taking his hand and pulling him across the black, marble-floored foyer and under a very ornate Moroccan-style archway. There, the marble gave way to thick, velvety red carpet that sank underfoot further than any carpet he’d ever encountered.

‘This carpet is amazing,’ he said. Just made for making love on.

And so were the sofas!

There were three of them. Low and wide and colourful, they were slightly curved, arranged around a circular, black-lacquered coffee-table on which rested a huge platter of fresh fruit, and a gilt ice bucket holding a magnum of champagne.

Beyond the sofas, curtains the colour of the water around Tahiti framed a floor-to-ceiling window that showed a panoramic view of the city skyline. There was no overhead lighting. Only lamps and wall lights. All gold. All exotic-looking.

‘Look up at the ceiling,’ she said.

His eyes moved up the deep blue walls to the very high ceiling above, which was draped in black silk shot with gold.

Wow. He now understood why this place had cost so much.

‘Fit for a sheikh,’ he remarked.

‘That’s the idea. It’s supposed to tap into people’s fantasies.’

‘Do you have a sheikh fantasy?’ he asked, reaching to pull her into his arms once more.

She gasped as their chests made contact. ‘Only if you’re the sheikh.’

He liked the sound of that.

‘So tell me,’ he murmured as he set about removing her tiara and veil, ‘how does that fantasy go?’

Charlotte shivered at the touch of his fingers in her hair.

‘You have your wicked way with me all night,’ she confessed breathlessly. ‘And I love every single moment.’

‘That’s not fantasy, my beautiful Charlotte. That’s going to be reality.’ He tossed her veil and tiara onto the nearest sofa, before suddenly quirking an eyebrow at her. ‘All night?’

‘See? I told you it was a fantasy.’

‘No, no. I’m sure I can rise to the challenge. But I have only limited protection with me. I will have to be inventive when they run out. Do you mind inventive, beautiful Charlotte?’

‘I don’t think I’d mind anything with you,’ she told him truthfully as her heart thundered behind her ribs.

Daniel suppressed a groan. There went his intentions to be a caring, considerate and conservative lover tonight.

Still, she clearly didn’t want a caring, considerate and conservative lover tonight. She wanted the sheikh fantasy, where the dark and dangerous desert prince carried her off by force, thereby wiping away any sense of shame or guilt if she just happened to enjoy herself. She wanted him to take total responsibility for what happened here tonight. She wanted him to play the sheikh.

Fine. He could do that. Especially here, in this incredibly erotic setting. He’d already glimpsed the bedroom through another archway and it made the exotic living room look almost sedate.

‘Come,’ he said in a masterful tone. ‘We shall retire to the boudoir.’

‘Wait till you see it!’

Daniel tried not to ooh and aah.

But talk about harem territory. This was full-on.

‘I’m sure honeymooners love it,’ Charlotte said with a nervous little laugh.

Not just honeymooners, Daniel thought as he looked from the raised, black-lacquered four-poster bed with its filmy white curtains up to the mirrored ceiling above. Once again, the carpet underfoot was lush and thick, though this time it was green. Emerald-green. Everything else in the room, however, was black, white or silver.

‘Lots of silver,’ he commented. The wallpaper was silver, and so were the edges of the mirrors, and the thread running through the white satin quilt. ‘I would have expected gold.’

‘The bathroom has gold fittings,’ she said. ‘To go with the black marble, I guess.’

‘They said it had a spa bath.’

‘Yes, a huge one.’ She flushed at the mention of the bath.

Surely not from shyness, Daniel reasoned. No woman who’d chosen the wedding dress she was wearing was shy about her body.

‘Good,’ he said.

Daniel decided any more delay would be counterproductive. ‘I think it’s time to check out that bathroom,’ he said, reaching for her. ‘But first, let’s get you out of that dress.’ And he turned her round.

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHARLOTTE sucked in sharply when his hands started work on the laces that anchored the bustier top to her body. Louise had tied them very tightly so that her waist was pulled in as far as it would go, the compression pushing her ribs in and her breasts upwards, giving her an extreme, hourglass shape.

She wore no bra. None had been needed, the top of her gown heavily boned and lined. Once Daniel got the laces undone, Charlotte knew that the top would fall from her body, leaving her naked from the waist up.

Just the thought turned her on.

She’d never been this eager to be naked before. Or to have a man’s hands on her body.

‘Aah, now I get it,’ Daniel said as the bodice went slack around her. ‘The top’s separate from the skirt.’

The freeing of her breasts from the skin-tight constriction brought with it a wave of melting heat. When he removed the top right away from her body, she swayed.

‘Hey!’ he said softly, his arms sliding around her just underneath her breasts. ‘Don’t go fainting on me.’

Her answer was a soft moan, her eyes fluttering shut as she leant back against him in blissful surrender.

When his hands moved upwards to cup her breasts she almost cried out, her nipples stabbing at the centre of his palms. As though he knew what they wanted, he spread his hands out flat and rotated his palms slowly over the taut peaks.

Charlotte gasped, then groaned.

He kept up the rotating motion till her breasts were swollen and her nipples so sensitive that the sensations he created were close to pain.

Just when she felt she could bear it no longer, he stopped. Perversely, she opened her mouth to protest. But before she could utter a word, he spun her in his arms and covered her mouth with his own.

His lips were hard, and hungry, his hands on her back just as demanding. He clamped her to him, kept her lips open and drove his tongue deep. Charlotte had thought he’d kissed her with passion in the lobby. But this…this was more than a kiss. This was total ravishment.

His reefing away both startled and dismayed her. Her eyes flew open to find him taking a backward step from her and running an agitated hand through his hair. His face was flushed and his breathing ragged.

‘What’s wrong?’ she asked.

He stared at her, before shaking his head, then smiling a rather wry smile.

‘I was going way too fast.’

‘But I liked you going fast.’

‘You wouldn’t in the end.’

‘How do you know?’

‘I know.’ He smiled another of those wry smiles. ‘Sheikhs know these things. Now I suggest you go get the rest of that dress off by yourself. Take a shower. And put on something more comfortable. Both our bags should be in the dressing room leading off from the bathroom. Or so I was told.’

Charlotte didn’t want to do any of those things. She wanted to stay with him and have him kiss her some more. And play with her some more, then just take her, without too much preamble. Her nipples were still hard but the rest of her body was in meltdown mode. She wanted him.

But she would not beg.

‘I won’t be long,’ she said, hurrying into the bathroom and shutting the door behind her.

The sight of herself in the huge vanity mirror was a shock. How decadent she looked standing there, half-naked. Spinning away, she hurried into the adjoining dressing room, where she stripped off the rest of her clothes, not returning to the bathroom till she was totally naked.

As she walked over to the vanity to get one of the complimentary shower caps, she glanced at herself in the mirror again.

Louise always said she had a fabulous body. Charlotte thought it was good, but not fabulous. Her hips were a bit wide. But she looked in proportion and she’d never felt ashamed of it.

But she’d been brought up in a modest household where you didn’t flaunt yourself. Being totally naked in front of anyone had always been a problem with her, but especially the opposite sex. Mostly, in the past, she would undress then dive into bed and keep under the sheets.

Charlotte had long ago realised her inhibitions were a contributing factor in the ultimate failure of all her relationships, especially the one with Dwayne.

Strangely, though, she did not feel any of her usual shyness with Daniel. She wanted him to see her naked. Wanted him to make love to her, to be inventive.

Her hands lifted to lightly touch her nipples, producing a delicious quiver. She did it again, then cupped her whole breasts as Daniel had.

Her responses rocked Charlotte. Daniel wasn’t even here and she was finding pleasure in her body.

Louise was right. This had to be lust, not love.

It was a liberating realisation, because she didn’t want to love Daniel. She did, however, want to make love with him.

The bathroom door suddenly opening behind her had her snatching her hands away from her still throbbing breasts and whirling round.

‘I didn’t hear the shower,’ Daniel said as he entered and walked towards her, seemingly unaware of being totally naked. Not so Charlotte. Her mouth went dry at the sight of him.

‘Why don’t we share?’ he asked, and with one smoothly sweeping action scooped her up into his arms.

Charlotte didn’t object. How could she? She was having enough trouble just breathing.

He held her with one hand whilst he turned on both taps in the made-for-two shower, adjusting the temperature and the shower heads till he was satisfied. Then he lowered her carefully to that spot where the two sprays met in the middle.

‘My hair,’ she did protest when the warm water started streaming down over her head.

‘Don’t worry about your hair,’ he commanded, and pulled her against him again, not quite so roughly as the last time. But there was still an intensity in his body language which Charlotte found incredibly exciting. She liked to think he wasn’t quite as cool as usual, that she had rattled him today.

She could feel his hardness pressed against her stomach, evoking wild images in her imagination.

‘Are we going to do it here?’ she asked him breathlessly.

He frowned down at her. ‘Do you want to?’

‘Yes.’

‘Hell, Charlotte.’

‘What?’

‘You have to stop doing this to me.’

‘Doing what?’

‘Making me lose the plot. I’m the sheikh here. You’re the captive bride. You do as I say.’

‘Do I have to? I mean… I don’t want to wait.’

‘You might not have noticed but I’m not wearing a condom. They’re back in the bedroom. Can’t you wait a few minutes?’

She really couldn’t.

‘Unless there’s some other reason why you have to use protection,’ she blurted out, ‘I—er—I’m on the Pill.’

‘On the Pill,’ he repeated, and a shudder ran through him. ‘You shouldn’t have told me that, Charlotte.’

‘Why not?’

‘Because men will often say anything not to use condoms. Men can be very selfish. And stupid. I’ve always used protection myself. I’m somewhat paranoid about getting a girl pregnant. But you only have my word for that.’

‘Your word is fine by me,’ she said. ‘I know you wouldn’t lie about something as serious as that.’

‘God, woman.’

‘What?’

‘Nothing.’ He shook his head, splashing water all over the place. ‘This is going to be a new experience for me.’

‘What is?’

‘Being with someone like you.’

‘What does that mean? What’s different about me?’

‘Everything. Now shut up and let me kiss you.’

She shut up and let him kiss her and kiss her till she was squirming against him. Once again, his mouth burst away, his eyes flashing her a warning.

‘Enough of that,’ he growled, and spun her in his arms so that her back was to him. The water splashed down over her head and body, forming rivulets that streamed down.

‘Wind your arms back around my waist,’ he told her.

It was an incredibly exciting position, leaving her entire front totally accessible to his hands whilst hers were linked behind him as if she was, indeed, a captive bride. She could feel her heart thudding behind her ribs, her chest rising and falling.

Her heart raced even more when he dribbled shower gel over her breasts then started to caress them. The slipperiness of the liquid soap made everything more sensual and sensitive. Soft little sounds of pleasure escaped her lips every time he grazed one of her nipples.

When he abandoned her breasts and moved southward, Charlotte sucked in her stomach. When he passed beyond her navel, her whole belly started quivering. He was going to touch her down there. Her breath caught in anticipation and then his hand was sliding into the slickened folds of her sex. Every internal muscle she owned tensed, and waited. Waited and craved. His fingers slowly slid inside, moving as deep as they could before withdrawing a little then pushing deep again.

And again. And again.

Her breath began coming in short, sharp pants. Something was happening inside her. He kept touching something with each inward push, then sweeping over another highly sensitive part as he withdrew. Blinding pleasure mingled with an escalating frustration, a need for something that remained just outside her reach. Her muscles tightened further. Her mouth fell open. She wanted to scream. Or sob.

‘Oh,’ she cried out when the first spasm hit. ‘Oh…’

Charlotte had always tried to imagine what an orgasm felt like. Nothing in her mind, however, matched the reality of the experience.

But how could you describe such feelings? Or the sensations? They were beyond words.

‘Good?’ he whispered in her ear when it was over.

‘Mmm,’ was all she could reply. Suddenly she went all limp, her arms flopping back down to her sides.

‘Too tired to continue?’

‘Not at all,’ she shot back, snapping out of her momentary exhaustion in a hurry. No way was she going to waste any of tonight. Not if she could help it.

‘In that case, I think we should adjourn to the bed.’

She swung round to face him. ‘But I don’t want to go to bed.’ As much as the bed out there looked incredibly romantic and erotic, bed had never been a place where sex for her had been all that successful. She liked being in this shower with him. It excited her. ‘I’d much prefer to stay here for a while.’

‘Actual sex in the shower is not always a good idea, Charlotte,’ he said. ‘Not unless…’ His black eyes glittered momentarily. But then he shook his head. ‘No. No, I don’t think so.’

‘But I want to,’ she insisted, her hands lifting to rest on his chest. ‘Tell me what to do. Show me.’

Show her.

Daniel groaned. Didn’t she know he was already close to the point of no return?

His male ego had been pleased with having made her come. But it demanded more. He wanted her to climax whilst he was making love to her. But that was unlikely if he proceeded at this stage. He’d come himself in no time and she’d be left in no man’s land.

But he was tempted. Cruelly tempted.

‘It’s too soon,’ he told her. ‘For you.’

‘But not for you,’ she returned, her eyes dropping to where he was still erect.

‘No,’ he said ruefully. ‘Not for me.’

He almost jumped out of his skin when she reached down and curled both her hands around him.

‘No, don’t,’ he warned her. But she was already caressing him, moving her soft hands up and down his aching shaft. When she moved a thumbpad over the velvety tip, he groaned.