Текст книги "End of the Innocence"
Автор книги: Alessandra Torre
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Текущая страница: 8 (всего у книги 19 страниц)
Chapter 25
We stayed in that moment, his fingers inside of me, my body heavy on his for a minute. Then, his hands and arms moved, my body curling as they brought me into a fetal position sideways in his lap. I leaned my head back against his arm, my eyes closed and mouth curving into a smile, loving the strength and security in his grip.
I didn’t, couldn’t, begrudge any woman who wanted Brad. I wanted him for everything—his strength, his weakness, his sexuality, his humor, his ego, his temper, and his security. Maybe she didn’t want him. Maybe she gave two shits what Brad De Luca did with his life, maybe she just wanted the salary she got from Saffire, Inc. But I couldn’t imagine any woman having, enjoying, and spending any amount of time with Brad and not being head over heels. It was impossible.
I understood what Brad was asking of me. But he was a man. He didn’t realize. Everything he told me about her, her struggle, her life—he had intended the words to endear me to her. But they had only made me more wary. For as much as any woman wanted a man, they wanted a Prince Charming even more. For me, Brad was my soul mate. For her, he was a new life wrapped in that love. A way out of her current one.
He didn’t want to be cruel. But what is crueler? A slow, painful extinguishing of hope? Or truth—that bitch of life who smacks you into reality?
I knew what I’d want. A quick rip of the Band-Aid, Brad to look square in my face, and to explain reality. Right. Who the hell was I kidding? It would devastate me, knock all the life out of my heart in one painful burst. I was not the one. It would be a blow I might not recover from. The question was, how would Alexis recover? I worried she wasn’t the meek type, the one who’d wallow away on the couch in misery, scarfing down pizzas and rocky road ice cream. No, her recovery was probably of the plotting, sharpen-her-teeth-with-a-knife, stab-you-in-the-back-in-a-dark-alley type. And that scared the hell outta me.
It would do me no good to talk to her. Any news coming from me would be dismissed as skewed, delusional. It would have to come from him. And he seemed reluctant to rip off the damned Band-Aid.
♦♦♦
Alexis glanced up, her eyes on the curved wall of the upstairs VIP section. They were up there, the video feed off, enclosed in a bubble of privacy—their own little secret world. She knew what they were doing. Brad De Luca didn’t chit-chat, didn’t make polite conversation over martinis and cheese platters. Brad fucked: long, hard, and perfectly. Just the thought of it made her thighs clench tightly around the thirty year old toothpick she was straddling.
Memories flooded through her mind. Brad, whispering words of sex as he fucked her against the wall. Brad, bending her over an upstairs VIP table, his hands and mouth worshipping her from behind before he took her with slow, gentle strokes that increased in speed until she came. Brad, her soul submitting to his dark eyes as she danced for him, the club closed, the shock of his hands as he suddenly stood before her, skimming rough hands over smooth skin, his mouth following his hands. And then she was laid back, hard stage against her back, his mouth, hands, and cock making the night, her worries, her life, disappear in a blur of orgasms and sex.
Soft hands surprised her, taking her out of the memories and she glanced down, seeing pale fingers excitedly traveling up her tight stomach. She shook her head with a smile, pulling the client’s hands off her and holding them together above his head, the action causing her breasts to hover inches from his face. She ground softly against him, glancing down and trying to think about anything but Brad De Luca.
♦♦♦
I pushed all thoughts of Alexis out of my mind and focused on the unrelenting cock beneath my body. It lacked social graces, the couth to understand that it was interrupting an in-depth thought process. It wanted only one thing: attention.
I laughed, meeting Brad’s eyes, intense and mischievous all at one moment. “You got me all excited,” he murmured, pulling me to him and stealing a kiss. “Surely you won’t leave him hanging.”
I looked out at the club, only lighting and walls a spectator to our alcove. Then I looked down, over the railing, my eyes dancing over sex at every turn. Not actual intercourse, but it was sex all the same, a flowing river of it, invading every pore, molecule, and breath of the downstairs space. An arched body, offering itself, in full glory, on stage. Lips against ears, whispered fantasies dancing between bodies. Spinning flesh, confidence via shot glass, sequins over tans, hands sliding over thighs, gripping ass, grabbing ankles. The sex crept up the walls, invaded the air, moved like invisible smoke upward, slithering into a hypnotic cloud into our room, curling around six feet two inches of sexuality. And underneath my body, legs spread, eyes potent, hardness impressively pushing up from below, was what I craved.
I moved, untangling from his arms and straddled him, sliding my dress upward, over my hips. His hands stopped me. “Let me,” he said, taking over the action, his hands drawing out the process, firm fingers teasing as they pulled the dress over my body. The fabric came over my head, and I emerged to find his eyes on mine, intensity in them, his hands traveling slowly back down, a hand taking each breast and cupping them, his thumbs moving over my nipples lightly. “You know, I will never need anything more than you,” he said softly. He sat up, a strong hand sliding around my back and lifting me easily, my body now suspended over him, my breasts soft cushions around his mouth. I moaned, his lips finding their way over the soft mounds and peaks of my breasts, hard flicks of his tongue against sensitive places, gentle scrapes of teeth following his soft mouth. His fingers dove back into that wet apex, moving in and out, readying me, moving my body into place until I felt his head. There. And he thrust, softly, only the head inside of me. His hand, cupping my ass, carrying my weight, kept me in place as he moved slowly, with short strokes, just his thick head dipping in and out of my folds.
“Brad,” I murmured. “Please.” Even as I spoke the words, I didn’t mean them, didn’t want him to stop. It was too perfect, too precise. Enough to enslave, too good to release, but not enough to fully satisfy. I didn’t want satisfaction just yet. I wanted this, this incredible yearning met halfway, as a delicious crescendo of tongue and teeth danced across my breasts.
“I mean it, Julia,” he groaned, lifting his mouth off me, stubble brushing roughly over my nipples.
Slow. Teasing. Strokes. Not. Far. Enough.
“Please, Brad. I need more,” I gasped, gripping his hair, pulling his head back so I could look wildly into his eyes.
He lowered me marginally, his eyes locked in mine, his mouth forming words I didn’t understand. “I don’t need other woman, or to watch you with other men. What I need, all I need, is this.”
He thrust, taking me fully, three rock-my-world strokes before withdrawing, his hand lifting me slightly, resuming his slow, half-inside strokes that left me whimpering in his arms. I was so close, could feel the orgasm coming despite his short strokes, a mounting pleasure that I held on to with determination. And then it swelled, my muscles tightening as one, building intensity that was taking me closer ... closer ....
He stopped, his arms lifting me, my head snapping down, and my eyes flipping open. “What?” I gasped. “Why did you stop?”
“Not yet, Julia.” He smiled, his cock taking one quick dip inside of me before withdrawing.
“Not yet? I’ll come again, trust me.” I pushed against his hand, frantic to maintain the momentum that I could feel slipping away.
He ignored me, cupping a breast with his free hand, and taking it into his mouth, his eyes glancing up and meeting my furious ones.
As fucking hot as it looked, his gorgeous face below me, my body in his mouth, my orgasm was waving goodbye, cheerily content with hopping in a minivan and hitchhiking to Cleveland. I gritted my teeth and grabbed his chin, pushing his face up to mine.
“Fuck me,” I gritted out. “Now. Hard. Fast. De Luca-style.”
He grinned, that sexy, I-fucking-own-you grin and released my ass, dropping me full force on top of my full-time obsession. Gripping me with both hands, he kept me still, and started a full on barrage from underneath. Hard, fast fucks that rammed my body, my core clenched against him, the pleasure erupting with every thrust from below, every hard pelvis hit against my clit. I moaned, over and over, the orgasm pulling a one-eighty and barreling full force toward me with arms extended wide. Harder, faster than it had ever come, my body a time bomb about to explode.
Then I did. Throwing my head back, my feet searching and finding floor, my hands grasping widely for anything to hold on to, I came, a full-body explosion that expelled every emotion I had contained for the last twenty-two years of my life. It was intense, it was incredible, and the best part was looking down on him as I finished, down into that cocky, sexual face that owned me with his eyes.
He thought I owned him. He thought he loved me, that I was enough. But this animal, this sex god who could drive me crazy and steal my heart in the same breath, he would never be fully mine. It was impossible. No one ever owned a god.
I took over control, pushing him back against the chair, digging my heels into the floor and riding his cock, my voice coming out in short bursts, guttural and raw as I took him closer to orgasm. “You say that now, but wait. Wait until you see me on top of another man. Wait ‘til his arms are wrapped around my body, his mouth on my tits.” I stared into his eyes, watched the dark flash of excitement as his hands traveled over my skin, possessively squeezing. “I’m going to come so hard on his cock, I’m going to fuck him until he explodes all over my sweet little face, and you’re going to wonder, baby. You’re going to wonder who made me come harder, whose cock I am thinking about next time you fuck me.” He groaned and leaned forward, wrapping his arms around me, my breasts tight against his shirt, and came, thrusting into me, over and over, our juices mixing as he fucked me through the orgasm, his breath hot on my neck, his mouth taking mine until we both collapsed, spent and euphoric, on the leather chair.
No, no one ever owned a god. But I was working on taming, fooling him into submission.
Chapter 26
“Are you hungry?”
I considered the question, nodding even as my stomach growled, a sound that triggered a grin on Brad’s face. He leaned forward, calling to the front seat. “Leonard, can you call in an order and then swing by Woll’s?”
“No.” I shoved his shoulder. “Fast food. We’re not getting a ‘to go’ order from Woll’s. Besides, it’s two a.m., the kitchen is probably closed.”
“Fast food?” Brad said dubiously, slinging an arm around my shoulder. With his physique, the man probably hadn’t eaten a cheeseburger in years.
“Yes. Fast food. It’s called McDonald’s. The king of late night.” I leaned forward. “Leonard, you know where there’s a McDonald’s on the way home?”
“Yes ma’am,” he said, his eyes smiling at me in the mirror.
“Great.” I leaned back and snuggled against Brad.
“So ... I get no input.”
“Nope,” I said cheerfully. “I’m putting my foot down with this one. Besides, you need to learn how to release a little control.”
“You know ...” he growled in my ear, nipping my ear lobe gently. “I give you one little company and you get all authoritative on me.”
“It’s McDonald’s, Brad. You’re overdue.”
The line for the drive-through ended up stretching two blocks back—my meal choice being in line with about a hundred other Vegas tourists. We settled in, content on waiting, and I rested my head on Brad’s shoulder, watching scores of people walk by at a pace that quadrupled ours. “So, what is your plan for Alexis?”
“I thought we settled this back at Saffire.”
“Oh, you mean when you fucked me in the VIP area, and I lost all rational thought processes? No. That didn’t settle anything.”
“It felt settled.”
I tilted my head. “Nope. Not settled. What’s the plan?”
He sighed. “I guess I can head over there early afternoon. What time does our plane leave?”
I twisted my mouth, trying to think. “Around six-thirty.”
“Then I’ll head over to Saffire around three. Talk to her, then swing by and pick you up, and we can head to the airport. Are you sure you don’t want to come?”
“As awkward as that’d be, no. Plus, I don’t want her to think I’m forcing you to do this.”
He frowned down at me as the car rolled forward. “But you are forcing me to do this.”
“Moot point, Brad. Moot point.” I grinned cheerfully and rolled down the window, watching the metal intercom as we swung to a stop before it.
I ordered for both of us, feeling Brad’s irritation as I rattled off an order of mild complexity. I paused, looking up to Leonard, and he passed on his request, the grand total of the order coming to a whopping $21.24. Brad passed me cash, grumbling all the while, and I silenced him with a kiss.
We ate while the car moved, gorging on Big Macs and fries, a strawberry milkshake making mild interruptions into the feast. With tomato juice running down my chin, I closed my eyes in pure bliss, Brad’s voice saying something in the background. “What?” I managed through a mouthful of yum, opening my eyes to find him watching me in amusement.
“We can head back through if you need seconds.”
I shook my head, setting the burger down and leaning back, my stomach stretched beyond comprehension. “No, I’m good.” I cradled my milkshake, taking a long, perfect sip of strawberry ice, the cooling sensation running down my throat in pure bliss. “I didn’t see you complaining while you demolished your meal.”
He grabbed a napkin and wiped his mouth, grinning at me. “No. No complaints.”
I yawned, glancing at my watch. “How far are we from Bellagio?”
“Five minutes. You feel like hitting the casino?”
I arched my brow at him. “Do I look like I feel like gambling? I’m three steps away from a cheeseburger coma.”
He laughed, scooping an arm around my waist and planting a soft kiss on my cheek. “Fine. I’ll forgo a chance to bleed MGM dry and get you into bed.”
“Poor you.”
He grinned down at me. “You have no idea.”
Chapter 27
Sometimes you could see disaster coming, like an erratic wave that kept drawing, drawing, drawing attention to the beach until whoosh a swimmer becomes victim to its grasp.
Alexis was that wave, Brad was that swimmer, and I sat on the beach and watched the whole thing happen.
♦♦♦
I awoke to an empty room, the pillow top absent one impressively large body. Rolling over, I stretched, my arms reaching empty space instead of hard muscle. I frowned, propping up on one elbow and glanced at the clock. 11:13 a.m.
“Good morning, sleeping beauty.” Brad strode in the room, rolling up the sleeves on a button-down shirt, looking ridiculously hot with a five-o-clock shadow and dress pants.
“What’s all ... this?” I gestured sleepily, my hand waving about in an attempt to include his head-to-toe hotness.
“What?” He frowned at me.
“You know what. You. All sexual.”
“I was going to hit the tables before heading to Saffire.”
“In that?” I sat fully upright.
He tilted his head at me, leaning back against the dresser and crossing his arms. “Yes. What’s the problem?”
“You are, in a sense, breaking up with her. Looking hot isn’t going to help matters.”
“You’re being unreasonable. I didn’t pack a lot of things, Julia. We came for one night.”
I sputtered, moving off of the bed and walking over to him, my new vantage point making the effect only more potent. “Then buy something at the gift shop. A furry sweater, pleated jeans.”
“What are you worried about?”
Gee, that gorgeous blonde who’s fucked you countless times, the one who probably has an ‘I love Brad’ poster above her bed? Yeah, I have nothing to be worried about. “Nothing,” I mumbled, waving my arms and sighing dramatically. “Go on. I’ll be fine here.”
He bent, both hands gripping my waist and lifting me easily, my feet and arms flaying out as I struggled. Tossing me onto the bed he leaned over me, his face inches from mine. “Phillipe was going to set up some spa services. I assumed you’d want a massage.”
I rolled my eyes, turning my face to the side. “Among other things.”
“Want me to take care of you before I go downstairs?”
“No. I’ll have Phillipe get me a masseuse that can pull double duty.” I rolled over, burying my face in the pillow and trying to blot out the image of Brad’s deliciousness in front of a sultry Alexis.
There was a pause, and I felt his presence moving closer. Then his hand brushed my hair aside, and his mouth was in my ear. “Be careful what you wish for, sweetheart. You should know that would only excite me.”
I ignored him, ignoring the sweep of his fingertips along the nape of my neck. The trail of his finger down my back in one slow drag. I grinned against the sheet, desire curling in my belly as he dragged the sheet lower, exposing my back to the cool room. I felt his lips, soft broken up with the scruff of his stubble, on my back as he gave me a gentle kiss. Then he was gone, the suite door opening and closing with quiet finality.
Chapter 28
I was in trouble the moment my name was spoken. I was half-asleep, cold cucumber on my eyes, a robe wrapped around my naked body, reclining in one of the suite’s soft leather chairs. My hand was held by a spa attendant, the final adjustments being made to my manicure. Two women had transformed my hotel room into a spa, putting soothing tones on the Bose radio, closing the curtains, and dimming the lights to an appropriate level. While I normally would have gotten services in the spa downstairs, this time—given our short timeframe—Brad had arranged the services to be done in our suite. Through the muted sounds of wind and rain, I heard my name and opened my eyes.
He was beautiful in all of the ways that Brad wasn’t. Thin where Brad was thick, blond hair where his was black. A tight polo that showed muscular arms, blue eyes that stared confidently out at me from a rugged face. Yum. I glanced down, tightening my robe and stood, sliding bare feet into slippers, padding gently across the stone floor ‘til I stood in front of him.
“I’ve set up the table in the bedroom. Are you ready?” the man asked, a hint of California surfer in his tone.
I nodded, and he gestured for the door, holding it open as I moved through into a dim room, lit candles littering the space.
“I’ll give you privacy,” he spoke from behind me. “Please lie face up on the table. If you need me, just call out. My name is Tyler.” I glanced over to him, nodding, my eyes catching the movement of the other attendants, their quiet and respectful departure as they left the suite. Then, the bedroom door closed, and I was alone.
I shed the robe, suddenly too aware of my nakedness, of his presence on the other side of the door. Candles filled the room with lavender and vanilla scents and danced flickering shadows over my skin. I laid on the table, pulling the sheet up to my chest, and then lowered myself until I was flat, my breasts tickled by the soft fabric, my head encased in a soft pillow. I closed my eyes and waited nervously for him to return.
Why was I nervous? Massages, once a foreign treat, had become commonplace in my new life of luxury. My body had been accustomed to strange hands, to men and women alike oiling up my body, to nudity a hairbreadth from gentle touches. I should be calm, relaxed, and ready for a treatment I have had fifty times before. But I wasn’t. I was tense. Jittery. Wet. Why the hell am I wet? The panicked question flitted through my mind at the same time as I heard him enter.
The sound of the door first. It opened, then soft steps, the pad of feet against carpet, a sound I had to strain to hear. When he spoke, I flinched, my nerves a bundle of live wires. “Do you have any sensitive areas? Or places you’d like me to focus on?” He spoke softly, the husky tone sending a shiver through my body.
Sensitive areas? A few. Places I’d like him to focus on? Yes, please. “No. Just a normal Swedish massage, please.” My voice behaved, coming out casually and unaffected, the right amount of offhand decorating its syllables.
“I understand. Mr. De Luca left very particular instructions,” he said the words with a hint of seduction, his sentence causing my eyes to open.
Particular instructions from Brad? That could be worrisome. His earlier threat echoed in my mind. Be careful what you wish for ... I had wished, hopefully he hadn’t granted.
♥♥♥
Brad drove, borrowing Phillipe’s sedan, wanting the control of driving and the solitude of an empty car. He had brushed off Julia’s concerns over Alexis, but Julia had every reason to be worried. Alexis was not going to take this well. He called her from the road, taking a deep breath in mental preparation as the phone rang.
“I was beginning to think you’d forgotten all about me.”
“I’m headed to Saffire now. We need to talk.”
“As exciting as that sounds, I’m not working tonight. And there’s no way I’m going into Fire on my night off.”
He could see this conversation, the direction it was taking, a red blinking sign indicating that his demise was ahead in one decision. He sighed. “Where are you? Can we meet for coffee somewhere?”
She huffed into the phone. “I don’t drink coffee, Brad. I’m home. Come here. I trust you’ll remember the address.” The phone beeped, and he looked at the screen, the END CALL message mocking him in its finality.
This was bullshit. Since when did he follow orders from women? Julia was one thing; she managed to boss him around with ease, but Alexis had no hold on his heart. He could turn around and head right back to Julia. To her soft skin and feisty eyes. Skin that was probably being touched eight ways to Sunday right now. He had set her up with Tyler, a masseuse who moonlighted as an escort, his clientele mostly older women married to casino whales. He tried to push the thought of Julia out of his mind, tried to not think of her, naked on a table before Tyler, the man’s hands sliding over her oiled body. He moved to the right lane, preparing for the exit that would take him to Alexis’s townhome.
