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Authors: Pamela Ann

BOOK: Bartered
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Chapter 22

 

Hugo

 

“Does this feel like Damen to you?”
I barked it out arrogantly, knowing well enough that her delighted reaction to our delicious body friction was a resounding no, but I still went ahead and demanded the question because I wanted her to say it out loud. I
needed
her to say it, a confirmation uttered from her own lecherous lips.

Her moans were driving me wickedly mad. This hunger to drive her over the edge
, into a pleasurable abyss, made me bite her neck. The animalistic rawness of a bite on a woman’s delicate neck never failed to produce unparalleled pleasure, certainly making them much more pliable for our intentions.

Just as expected, Isobel produced a scream the second my teeth sunk into her sens
itized flesh. It was a sound that made men fall on their knees and indulge the goddess in whatever she desired. A scream that made my cock angry to the point of explosion because it wanted entry to her safe haven.

“Definitely”
—she panted incoherently—“not.” She sounded lost, suspended from reality while my body did its purpose in delivering her to a place that was the closest a person could be to nirvana. The urge was potent to keep her there, detached from her thoughts, only able to feel.
Feel
the euphoria I was granting her. Feel how amazing things could be between us if she decided to pursue this road of sensuality with me.

“Hugo…”

The mere sound of her voice calling out to me in such a carnal way made everything inside me constrict with excitement. My hands were on her breasts, but I made them trail over her back from her shoulder blades all the way down to the base of her spine before I palmed the curve of her buttocks, gripping them hard, letting her cunt slide harder against the back of my cock as it sat rigidly between us.

As I gazed
admiringly at her, Isobel was lost in the heady and magnified, beautiful sensation we were weaving together. Her reluctance of this magnetic attraction and her slight measure of giving in to me—even though she had been fighting tooth and nail about everything that was related to me—well, this felt mighty triumphant. Yet, even in this short-term triumph, the greater need of wanting
it all
superseded it all.

This was appetizing, of course it was. I
had never doubted my instincts when it came to women, but I wanted her utter and complete surrender without hesitation. I wanted her to want me the way I wanted her. The need had consumed me since she’d walked in to save her father from destitution.

Generally
, as a rule, patience where women were concerned wasn’t on my list at all. What man of wealth and power would waste time on such trivial situations when it could be invested in something beneficial? No decent businessman would even toy with the idea. Of course, there were exceptions—if the man in question had a wife and family, then the rules changed.

I could take her like this
, with my cock a mere breath away from her opening, and she wouldn’t even have a second to deny me because she’d be lost in the pleasure of what my cock would do to her. My dark thoughts prevailed, yet there was something much stronger inside me, insisting that I wait until she commanded me to fuck her because she couldn’t fathom another second without having me inside her.

My ego
was a double-edged sword. I couldn’t make myself thrust my hips into her tight hole. My decisive decision made me curse inwardly, knowing quite well that I would end up having a cold shower while I palmed my cock.
When was the last time I’ve done that?
I thought, mocking myself. I couldn’t even remember because I had always had women who’d done everything for me. The very thought itself was depressing. When had my life come to such a sad state?

Sex was the only thing I could indulge in…
since having a family was out of the equation. It was the only thing that made me sane.


Ma belle,
make me come with you…” I groaned out, needing her to hear the desperation in my voice.

I didn’t need her pussy to finish off
; she could use her hands, her swollen mouth, or her pussy lips, riding on top of me as she glided her juices against my hot length.

“Hugo…
I’m…”

“Touch my cock
,
mon amant
.” (My lover.) “Use your other hand to caress my balls…”

Her hands followed
direction, gentle yet eager to please. The feel of her hands pressing against my shaft while I thrust against her labia felt too glorious to describe. Her gentleness eventually became harsher as I upped my speed. The warmth of the water sluicing around our motions, the rapidness of our heartbeats as we synchronized together with one purpose, achieving the end, became a whirl of madness until we finally reached our peaks.

Isobel cried out against my lips while I came against her luscious cunt.

I was inhaling her scent behind her earlobe before I breathed out, “Mon Dieu,
c'était magnifique.” (My God, that was magnificent.)

She laughed huskily before kissing my cheek. “Yes, that sure was
.”

 

 

For the past week, I had shared her bed. It was a given that
, each night I came to her, we would succumb to our passions. It also became a habit that every morning I’d wake her up with my mouth attached in between her legs.

I was mad for her
, and I couldn’t, no matter how much I kissed her lips and her body, get enough of it. But even if our passion was unimaginable, she hadn’t begged me to go all the way yet. Though I must admit my control was slipping away, I still managed to harness it each time our sexes touched.

Isobel was slowly blooming before my eyes
, giving me glimpses of the real woman within her cattiness and pleasant smiles. The woman behind the façade was this bright woman who had a great spirit and laughed madly until she snorted, which of course made her blush with embarrassment, but I found it truly cute and heart-warming. She was different; I had been aware of that from the very beginning. However, her uniqueness had particularly drawn me in to look beyond her appearance. Deep inside, she was as gullible as they come at twenty-three with the perception that life could be all about love and happiness. She rarely mentioned it, but when she did, I knew she was talking about Damen—the man she’d had to forcibly put aside until her obligations were finalized.

I wasn’t a
man who looked into the future, and I certainly wasn’t one who dwelled on past lovers and what might’ve been, but picturing Isobel’s freeing, full-of-life smiles with the man that she longed for made me feel uneasy. Therefore, as much as I could, I tried not to show that I was bothered each time she mentioned his name. She randomly did this while we were having discussions over dinner, aimlessly walking about The Riviera, or even when we were in bed. She’d spout something off about being in school and how life had gotten better since Damen.

I was all for freedom of speech
, but sometimes, it would’ve been perfect if the woman had a filter. There were rules in bed for lovers. One being the fact that no one should discuss current other lovers, or past ones for that matter. Each time she made a comment, it was on the very tip of my tongue to tell her that sometimes it was better off not to even say anything; however, her face would light up, and I, the mad man that I was, simply couldn’t resist gazing at her when she looked the very epitome of why God had created the earth and all its entirety. I was almost convinced that, when God had finished his creation, he’d sat back and admired her beauty, feeling most accomplished since a face like hers truly was unrivalled.

“Isobel,” I whispered her name as I gazed upon the glimmering sea. I stood in my o
ffice, admiring the view before me, thinking about how difficult it was to not fully fuck her body, when a knock came on the door.

“Oui?” I
called out as I spun around to see who it was.

“Mr. Julien Geroux is here to see you.” My secretary raised her perfectly shaped brow, wondering if
she should let my best friend in.

I was about to say something when a sound from the door came through. “He’ll see me. Why wouldn’t he? I’m not his mortal enemy
, now am I? Come off it, Sophie. I’m your favorite.” Julien’s familiar voice cajoled my newly divorced forty-year-old secretary.

Sophie rolled her eyes
as she chastised him for polluting the air inside the building with every breath he took before finally walking away, giving way to let Julien inside my office.

“Ah
, how are we today, sir lover boy?” the arrogant fool greeted me with a smirk as he strode across the office and went straight to the bar to pour himself a whiskey.

“What are you doing here, Geroux?” I
hadn’t been aware that we were meeting today.

He shrugged
, taking ahold of his glass, before spinning around to face me with a look I was familiar with. “You should know better…” he started, shaking his head in disapproval. “The pattern that you’re on right now.” He took a sip of his drink. “Louise…”

Mentioning her name made me feel violent. “Don’t you dare start with me, Julien—”

“I dare because I’m a concerned friend. You don’t want anything like that attached to your name. Most especially that. You’ve done so well for a decade. Don’t fuck it up now.”

He was overstepping himself. “Careful, Geroux
.” I warned him, but he remained nonchalantly casual.

“Careful.” He nodded. “That’s the word. You should learn it because
, if your twisted luck strikes again, you’d wish that you’d sought the word itself.”

My jaws locked, hating every single word that he was jabbing at me. “I would never let anything like that happen again
. Never!” I threw at him harshly.

“This is out of our hands, Xavier
. We know that,” he finished somberly before gulping the rest of his drink, giving me another harsh look. “I like Isobel. She’s very nice and quite stunning to look at. But my only concern here is
you
, Hugo. Do you want to be picking up the puzzle to figure it out just before it’s too late again? The aftermath—you barely made it out sane.” With that, he left me watching his retreat, racking my brain and wondering if I was in denial or did Julien really have grounds.

I was attracted to Isobel. I wanted her like I had never wanted a woman before
, but that was all it was—an animalistic desire to possess a beauty, nothing more.

Julien’s concern didn’t have any merit. There simply wasn’t. It was the bare truth.

Chapter 23

Isobel

 

“How are the preparations going?”
someone asked me the question from behind. I knew without having to see who it was that it was Hugo wanting to charm the life out of me. I could hear it from his voice. It dripped with it, reminding me of how we had been spending our nights together, always finishing locked in an embrace with our naked bodies.

Yes…
Naked Hugo. He was beautiful naked. Most especially when he was on top of me, gazing down with such fierce passion it never failed to trap me as his captive.

“It’s…
going.” I smiled, still not ready to see him yet because my heart was beating so rapidly I somehow felt faint. He did this to me. I was a hot mess where he was concerned. “What are you doing here? Aren’t you supposed to be sitting at the helm, barking orders to some chap?”

“Oh
, I bark orders…” There was laughter in his voice before his hands touched the sides of my hips and pulled me towards him, whispering into my ear, “Why don’t you come here and kiss me?”

Hell. I couldn’t believe he’d turn on his seductive voice in public. “There are people around.”

We were organizing the decorations and other preparations for Julee’s event in one of the vast ballrooms of his hotel. As a result, one could imagine how many people milled about and ran to get this or that done. Furthermore, with the boss hanging around, flirting with yours truly, I was flattered and at the same time could do without the wide-eyed curiosity.

“Come on
, a little PDA can’t harm anyone.”

I was always at
risk of harm by becoming one of those idiotic women who saw stars in their eyes.

“I usually don’t do that sort of thing,” I murmured before I spun around
to face him. The moment our eyes clashed, my stomach dropped and my heart did a somersault. The intense combination made me lose my breath a little.

His eyes sought mine, as if he too was feeling the connection
, before he pulled me closer, crushing my breasts against his chest. “Well, you do now,” he said when his lips were a tad away from kissing me fully. “You definitely do now, Isobel.” The second he captured me for a kiss, I was lost in him. His scent, his touch, and the feeling that we were spiraling out of control, washed over me.

I wasn’t sure how long it lasted
, but the second he parted from the kiss, I regretted that it had to even end.

Gazing up
at him, I had a shy smile on my face. “Just had to display it out there… couldn’t help yourself, could you?”

He matched my smile before his thumb brushed against the shape of my bottom lip. “I just had to see you before I go into a meeting. How about you come up for lunch?”

“You sure? I know you’re a busy man.” I wanted to spend time with him, too, but I didn’t want him to sacrifice work hours when we could make out more the second he got home.


Oui,
but I can always make time for you.”

Le sigh. “If you say so
. I’ll meet you there at noon.” Gazing at my watch, I looked at him to double check. “Is that good enough?”

“You’re always good enough, Isobel.” He winked at me before leaving me gazing at his pe
rfect behind. Though I was distracted by his perfect form, it didn’t leave my notice that there were a hefty amount of men and women checking the very man himself, admiring from afar.

Yet, of
all the people here, he had chosen me. I shook my head, bubbling with silliness as I longed to see him in sixty minutes.

Time, I realized, went by
at a snail’s pace when you were counting each minute.

 

 

Our lunch date was nothing
like I had expected. The second I was ushered in to meet Hugo, I was surprised that he was waiting for me in the elevator.

“Are you ready?” he asked with a smile that made my pussy contract.

I looked at him with a sheepish expression. “For what?”

“Lunch.”

Oh, that. Lunch… Why had I forgotten about that for a second?
It’s his smile
, my pussy reminded me for the second time. “Right. So, where are we lunching?”

“It’s a surprise.” He took my hand
to securely stick me to his side before he pressed one of the buttons on the top panel.

“I love surprises,” I breathed out like a giddy teenager on her first date. Keeping m
yself in check, I glanced at my shiny reflection against the gold-plated elevator doors, wondering when giggling had become a bad habit of mine.

Putting my worries aside, I refocused my attention
on the man next to me. There were times to worry about these things, and surely this moment wasn’t one of those.

Just as he
’d promised, he surprised me by taking me for a helicopter ride, having no clue where our destination was. Maybe it was the lack of affection from my father growing up that made me feel like, if a man went out of his way to make a woman special, one should always be grateful that they’d even thought of the kind gesture.

Hugo and my father were similar
, but it was blatantly obvious that the man next to me, caressing the back of my neck as he pointed out the window, showing me a yacht in the middle of the sea, had a heart, that he’d cherish you once you were under his care. I respected that about him. I truly did.

Not only that
, but he was a man of his word. I mean, how often had we had instances where he could have simply taken me and I might not have even cared because I was so out of it? And yet, he’d remained true to his word, holding out hope that, one night, I’d tell him to go all the way.

I wasn’t going to lie, each time we came together
, kissing and touching, the thought always played out in my head. However, there was something always holding me back from uttering the words out loud. Though, in my head, yes, I did beg of it once or twice.

The yacht came closer
into view. The size was just about as massive as Luca’s from that party, which I hadn’t realized on our previous trip to it. Once we landed on his yacht, Hugo was all smiles as he helped me out of the helicopter before directing us towards the back end of the vessel, towards an awaiting, smaller boat, which I was assuming was what we’d be riding in next.

Hugo hadn’t let go of my hand since he
’d helped me out of the helicopter, and I found myself feeling at ease when he’d plant a kiss on my forehead or anywhere around my face, which he always managed to do. The back of my neck, my cheek, shoulder blade, my nose, you name it. Wherever skin was exposed, he’d bless it with his amorous lips.

It was a
short boat ride towards the shore where our lunch waited, prepared with thorough detail and embellishments inside a white linen tent. His staff greeted us with a warm smile and a heavy dose of romance everywhere.

“Welcome to Corsica.”

“This is quite grand,” I breathed out, overwhelmed by the splendid gesture.

He shrugged before leading me towards the white
linen-covered table where he pulled out a chair for me to sit on. After I was seated, he then took the opposing seat from mine.

“I
only
do grand when I happen to really like someone,” he flirted back with ease.

“I hope you’re not thinking tonight’s the night…” I hid my smile away. “I don’t put out on first dates. Just a thought
.”

“Really
, now?” He chuckled with pure amusement before he gestured for someone to pour us champagne then focused on me again. “I appreciate a woman who knows her value…” he trailed off in a sexy, husky tone. “It makes it all the more sweet once I have captured her, trapped in between my arms, trapped by my lips, impaled underneath me…”

“You really need to learn not to make a woman blush from head to foot in broad da
ylight.” I tried to scold him, but his deep, throaty laugh merely made me gaze at him in such awe and tenderness. He truly was beautiful. It became lethal when he smiled or when he laughed, eyes dancing as he gazed at me as if I was the most enchanting thing he’d ever set his eyes upon.

“But I adore you more when you blush
.”

Damn.
With that, I went from soft pink to crimson.

“Now you’re just doing that on purpose to see how beet red I’d get.” I gave him an accusing look before he reached out for my hand that was resting on the table, gently ta
king it against his own before brushing a kiss against the skin on the back of my hand.

“When a woman blushes
or seems flushed, it sends out a message to the rest of the male species that the man she’s with pleases her—that she finds him attractive.” He paused, giving me a breathtaking look. “I love knowing that they know you’re taken just by looking at you.”

Where was he going with this? Why did his words feel more intimate compared to how he used to say
those things weeks back?

“Your possessiveness will get you in trouble one day. Besides, it’s so unnecessary
, especially with me. It’s not like men would dare take you on.”

“True
,” he agreed without hesitation. “But they still have eyes that wander around, appreciating what’s mine.”

I considered him a moment
, uncertain if I found this trait of his baffling and disturbing, unimaginably beyond sexy, or all of the above. Okay, I conceded that it was the latter option. However, as much as I wanted to admit it to him by saying it out loud, I’d rather appear less interested than seeming to be overeager.

“Maybe it would benefit you
not to act like you’re an alpha male all the time.”

“I
am
the alpha male.”

That statement was true. To that
, I had no smart rebuttal. Instead, I chose to inflate his ego some more. “
Alpha
… you sure are
very male
—virile, potent, dominating to a point of madness.”

“Ah
, ma belle.”
He grinned whole-heartedly. “Are you beginning to compliment me?” His teasing tone made me roll my eyes.

“Almost…”
I retorted back, enraptured at being in his company.

 

 

Later that night…

“Hello?” I took the call absentmindedly, as I was about to jump into the shower.

“Hello
, Iso. How are you,
koritsáki mou
?” my paternal grandmother’s voice flittered through the phone, making me tense a little.

My grandparents spoiled my father rotten, nurturing a monster in the making
, a man who knew nothing about being a husband, nor being a father.

“Grandmother,” I said
, feeling cold. She was Greek, and I was supposed to call her
nana,
but saying that meant she was a woman who meant something dear to me, which wasn’t the case. Calling her
grandmother
was far more appropriate. It was much more formal,
cold,
and detached, just like the very woman herself.

“Your mother has fallen ill. Come home at once
,” she demanded chillingly before ending the call without bidding me goodbye.

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