Enraptured (2 page)

His dark head moved slowly, luxuriously up her nape. When he
took her nearest earlobe into his mouth and suckled, she arched into him on a
groan, a round of shivers rippling through her body.

She could only be glad his big body was behind her,
supporting her weakened knees. Right then she barely functioned beyond the most
basic level of awareness. Perhaps that was why she didn’t at first notice that
his hands had left her breasts to take hold of her front zipper?

Soft, cool air caressed her bared skin. The hot, hard throb
of his cock pressed against the small of her back. She dropped her arms and
Blaine stepped back for a beat, her dress sliding free from her shoulders and
landing on the floor in a whisper of sound. Leaving her in a barely there, lacy
crimson thong.

“Dance for me,” he rasped in her ear.

Taking her cue from the violins, she slithered down, against
his hardness, then back up again. Her eyes glinted back at her in the mirror as
she coiled her arms above her head, her hips sashaying to the magical notes
pulsing through the room. She reached back and clasped his nape, bringing him
nearer still.

On a heavily exhaled breath he reciprocated, trailing kisses
once again down her throat and suckling at her flesh while she gyrated against
him. Her lips parted and her eyelids fluttered half-shut as a furnace of heat
built inside.

Some kind of expletive that sounded much like a benediction
filled her ears. Then his legs kicked apart so that he was spread-eagle behind
her and eye-level to her in the mirror. His cock slid between her ass cheeks
and glanced over her aching clit. She gasped. With only her flimsy lace thong
as a barrier, nerve endings flared into life, pooling warmth between her
thighs. He pushed a hand down the front of her thong, using a finger to probe
between the slick folds of her flesh. “You’re so wet for me.”

That was a gross understatement. But then he’d always gotten
off on the fact she was wet for him on demand. What normal girl wouldn’t be for
him though?

Before she could voice some kind of acknowledgment, he tore
the fragile material from her and discarded it to the floor. He tilted her chin
up and commanded huskily, “Watch.”

Her pussy clenched at the fierce possessiveness shining in
his stare reflected back at her, his focus on her…all of her.

“See how perfect we look together?” he asked.

She nodded. She couldn’t argue with that. At least, not
until his hands cupped her breasts and he added, “We belong together, baby.
Always.”

Her breath hissed with denial even as somewhere deep within
a seed of want burst into life.

“Don’t say anything,” he said when she opened her mouth to
reject him outright, despite her inner yearnings, or perhaps because of them. “Not
yet,” he added gently, though there was steel in his gaze, “just…think about
it.”

Her heart lurched. And for a moment indecision nipped at all
her hard-won years of self-assurance and inner poise with sharp little teeth.

Would becoming his mistress really be so bad?

You know it would.

Being exclusive to one man wouldn’t make her any more
important. In fact, aside from losing her other trusted clients, she’d also
lose her independence. Her free will. And eventually his interest.

Leaving her with nothing but a broken heart and shattered
self-esteem. She was already an expert in the art of being abandoned by a loved
one. And she really didn’t know if she’d be strong enough the next time to pick
up the pieces.

“I want you,” he said, his expression intense, passionate. “You
know I do. And I’ll do anything to have you, if you’ll let me.”

She should have felt a little fear, a little trepidation.
She didn’t. Something thrilling took hold of her insides even before one of his
hands dropped to her waist, the other taking hold of his shaft and guiding it
forward.

With a harsh grunt, he thrust deep inside her slick cunt.
She cried out, needing this physical connection so bad it hurt. He stroked in
and out with a steadily building, relentless rhythm as he added hoarsely,
“We’re perfect together.”

She wasn’t about to argue, not while a torrent of sensation
was pulling her under and having its wicked way with her. She stared at the
reflection of their joined bodies, unable to drag her eyes away.

Her pulse stuttered and soared at the vision of Blaine
rocking behind her. She wanted only to drag out the moment, the undeniable
thrill of just being with this man. With her breasts swinging and wisps of her
hair tumbling free and causing her to look even more wanton than usual, it was
a visual turn-on that was as close to decadent as the act itself.

The familiar wonder of an orgasm pressed at her senses.
Overwhelming. And yet just out of reach.

Blaine’s brilliant eyes held hers in the mirror as he parted
the flesh of her lightly haired cunt with seeking, skillful hands, and deftly
massaged the nub of her clit. She sucked in a breath. Then his name spilled
from her lips and she shattered hard as pleasure ricocheted through her system
and then shot her to the heights and beyond.

Triumph flashed across Blaine’s face a nanosecond before his
head fell back, his jaw clenched tight as his seed pulsed deep.

She had no idea how long they stayed joined with her head
slumped back on his chest, his hands cupping her pussy as if he didn’t want to
lose their intimate connection. But at some stage Blaine disengaged from her
wet heat and turned her around to lift her into his arms.

She tucked her head close to all his damp, male heat,
inhaling the musky scent of his skin infused with the even muskier scent of
sex.

With the music an accompanying throb to her still thundering
pulse, he carried her up a flight of stairs and threw open a door. A side lamp
cast a dull glow over the huge bedroom. Floor-to-ceiling windows revealed
faraway views of the Sydney Harbor Bridge and Opera House illuminated by
sparkling lights.

The new crimson comforter on his huge four-poster bed had
her smile a little. She understood now his desire for her to wear red. Though
he wielded plenty of power in the boardroom and beyond, real passion appeared
to be something he relished in his private time.

He laid her on the soft-as-a-cloud bed, his expression
tender. “Brandy, I wanted to tell you—”

The insistent chime of his cell phone claimed his attention.
His face tightened, lips pressed into a line. Releasing a breath, he pressed a
kiss to her brow and murmured, “I better answer, it must be important.” He
smiled. “Don’t go anywhere, hmm?”

Before she could reply he’d already swung away from her. She
blinked. He’d been about to say something important, she was damn well certain
of it. Whether it was something she actually wanted to hear, she mightn’t ever
find out now.

Switching the music off with a remote, he retrieved the cell
from his bedside table. “Blaine Waymann,” he said tersely.

Heading toward his bedroom balcony, he pushed open the
sliding glass door and stepped outside. A cool breeze caressed her body and
filtered his voice her way. “Sam, this’d better be goddamned important. When I
said I didn’t want any interruptions…”

Brandy frowned as his voice trailed off. She could only
assume Sam was his PA or someone who handled his day-to-day business dealings.
But why didn’t Blaine want to be disturbed? He was a renowned business shark,
an entrepreneur and prolific money maker. Surely one night with her wasn’t more
important than the thrill of wheeling and dealing?

She wasn’t sure how long she laid on his bed, mulling over
the implications of her thoughts, before Blaine returned, his expression tense.
He rubbed the back of his neck, then looked her way. His hand dropped and a
smile curved his lips. “How did I ever believe I’d get you out of my system?”
he murmured abstractedly. He leaned over the bed, his mouth capturing hers in a
gentle kiss. Her breath caught in her throat and yearning stirred once again in
her belly before he pulled back and informed her, “That was my secretary,
calling to remind me about a charity fundraiser I’m attending tomorrow night. I
know it’s short notice, but I’d love you to come with me.”

She frowned. He looked so serious, his eyes searching hers
as though he wanted to decipher her every thought. She swallowed past a
suddenly dry throat, aware something between them tonight had taken a major
leap and there wasn’t a damn thing she could do to stop it. “Tomorrow night?”
She shook her head. “Sorry, I can’t.”

Something glinted in his eyes, something dark, dangerous. “Whatever
your client is paying, I’ll triple it.”

She pushed herself up onto her elbows. She’d learned long
ago not to back down on the important stuff, and this was monumentally
important. This was her future. “It’s not about the money.”

He straightened, his face unreadable, though a flash of
skepticism lit tellingly in his stare. Then he nodded, striding toward a
walk-in closet before returning with a pile of his clothes in hand. He shrugged
into a white business shirt. “Stay the night,” he suggested softly. Yet his
every word screamed a seriousness that underlined their mutual sexual relationship
really had gone beyond the point of a business transaction. “Sleep here. I need
to sort out some business merger issues. When I get back we’ll talk.”

And finish what he’d been about to tell her before his cell
conversation? She didn’t argue, didn’t agree either. In his mind it was all
settled. As a high-powered businessman he was used to being obeyed. But
something shriveled inside her even as a great, aching sadness filled her while
she watched him dress. He slung a tie around his throat and she stood, with
practiced hands slipping it behind his collar before knotting it just how he
liked it. She should know. She’d had plenty of practice unknotting his ties.

He lifted a hand, the back of his knuckles brushing across
her jaw. A lingering touch. “Thanks, Brandy…Kate.”

He didn’t seem to notice her shocked intake of breath. Didn’t
seem to realize his obvious investigating into her past was the final straw.

He retrieved his cell phone before he turned to her and gathered
her stiff body to him for a brief, tender kiss. “Sweet dreams, baby, I’ll be
back as soon as I can.”

And you won’t find me here.

Hot tears spilled down her face as she listened to the
muffled thud of his footsteps retreating downstairs and through the ground
floor of his home. The front door slammed, followed soon after by the faint
clunk of his driver’s door. Then the Porsche’s engine thrummed to life on the
driveway.

Only when the sound of its motor had long dissolved into the
distance did she swipe away her tears. She’d never spent the whole night in a
client’s bed—because that was all he was, a client—and she wasn’t about to
start now.

She was too professional to let business mix with her
personal life.

Resolve steeled her spine as she made her way down the
staircase and into the entertainment room. Blaine expected her to throw away
her whole future on the off chance he’d want her as his mistress for longer
than a few months—because that was all it would take for their semi-permanent
living arrangement to start to pall, surely?

Better to cut all ties now rather than later, when things could
only get more complicated and messy.

The flames in the glass-domed fireplace had died down to
little more than glowing embers when she retrieved her dress and slipped it
back on, her fingers unsteady as she drew the zipper up.

She glanced at her ripped-beyond-repair thong. She’d have to
do without it, no great feat for someone of her profession.

Retrieving her clutch purse and fishing inside it for her
cell phone, she pressed speed dial to put a call through to her agency,
requesting immediate pickup. Disconnecting, she took one last look around the
room, trying to not think too hard about the glorious sex that had occurred
here such a short time ago.

Trying hard to not think about the man she couldn’t see
anymore.

Breath shuddered from her lungs. Damn. How quickly things
could change.

She dropped the cell back into her purse about the same time
she saw the square foils peeking out at her. She put a hand to her mouth. For
the first time since she’d become a call girl, she hadn’t given a thought to
using a condom.

Her mouth pulled tight. Of course, being on the Pill meant
pregnancy was no cause for concern. But disease was always a risk, always a
factor, no matter that she now only kept a handful of select clients.

Fool!

Her heart twisted, leaving a sick feeling in her belly. It
was yet another reason she had to put a stop to seeing Blaine. No amount of
money and amazing sex was worth sacrificing everything she’d worked so damn
hard for.

It really was time to leave. Permanently.

* * * * *

Kate left the gym with sweat still hovering on her brow and
every muscle screaming abuse. She’d never been one to do things by halves, but
she’d pushed herself hard today, harder than ever before.

She had to be in tip-top shape. Stamina and an amazing body
were prerequisites if she wanted to continue in her line of work. And then when
the time came for her to leave, she’d retire a wealthy, fit and still-young
woman with money invested in various nest eggs. She’d be self-sufficient for
the rest of her years.

She released a sigh. Shame the workout hadn’t stopped
thoughts of Blaine from filling her head. Shame the future looked bleak knowing
Blaine wouldn’t be in it.

She’d half expected him to show up at her apartment that
morning—not that she’d ever told him the address—but since he’d learned her
name, it stood to reason he would also know where she lived. She frowned. As a
call girl her privacy was nonnegotiable, to be guarded at all costs.

All her clients knew and respected it.

Until now.

So why had something inside her shriveled a little when
Blaine hadn’t shown? When he hadn’t even rung the agency to leave her a
message?

Hell, he probably had her cell phone number anyway. He would
have rung her direct.

She started when her cell abruptly chimed. Fishing through
her gym bag, she dug it out. Keen disappointment bit deep at seeing the ID on
her cell. Maisey, the woman who ran the agency with an iron fist.

“Brandy,” she answered, deliberately cycling her real name
to the back of her mind.

Maisey’s voice cut straight to the chase. “You’ve had a
cancellation.”

Her shock was less at Maisey’s faintly accusatory tone and a
whole lot more by the fact someone had cancelled. She was booked solid for at
least three months in advance and had never once had someone rescind on their
“date”.

“Who?” she asked carefully, sounding normal in every way, if
only she wasn’t shrinking inside until she was again that little girl whom no
one loved.

“Smitherson.”

Mackenzie Smitherson. Her mind ticked over, fighting off the
feelings of inadequacy that belonged right back in her past. She cleared her
throat. “He’s booked for tonight. Is he sick?”

Maisey huffed out a breath. “Sounded pissed as hell, but
healthy as a horse.”

What the hell?

Aside from Blaine, Mackenzie was her best customer, a
regular client who treated her well and paid even better.

She nodded absently, surprised to find a certain kind of
relief followed on the heels of rejection knowing she’d be alone tonight to
lick her wounds. And quietly yearn for Blaine.

“Never mind though,” Maisey added into the silence, her
voice slightly appeased, “I’ve managed to rebook you with another regular.”

Her heart sank. “Actually I’d prefer not to—”

Maisey’s voice turned cajoling. “It’s triple the going rate.”

Blaine. It had to be. Odd the quickening of her pulse, the
pull of her belly and the shortness of her breath that had zilch to do with her
exercise regime and all to do with her pathetic needs. She cleared her throat,
needing verification. “Who?”

“Waymann.” Maisey said his name meaningfully and Brandy heard
something in the other woman’s tone that hinted she could do far worse.

Well, duh.
If she wasn’t in the escort business she
would have slept with Blaine for free—not that she’d have met him anyway unless
she’d somehow managed to claw her way up into the high social echelons he kept.