One Night for Love (2 page)

Air clutched in Tristan’s chest. The muscle in his jaw flinched. He couldn’t tear his eyes from the woman on the other side of the dance floor. Her gaze flicked from the mass of dancing bodies in front of her and locked with his. Her full red lips dropped open the tiniest bit. The room and every person within the club fell away. An immediate and pulsing energy arced between them, a blue-hot bolt of desire to touch her, to kiss her, to wrap his arms around this woman and weave his fingers through that wild mass of brilliant black hair.

A giant of a man wearing a biker vest and red horns walked off the dance floor and blocked Tristan’s view of the woman. The man passed by. The woman who had captivated Tristan was gone.

He pressed forward through the mass of bodies, toward the spot where she’d stood. Glimpses of brown skin teased him as he wove through the nearly bare bodies that inhabited the club. Desire clutched him. He’d never been this mesmerized by a woman. On the far side of the club, she stood in front of a server who bore a tray of fruity drinks. She settled an empty drink onto the tray and took a fresh one. Her lips closed around the straw. His gaze slid over her body and she turned to him.

Again, an all-consuming compulsion to wrap his arm around her waist, tilt her head back, and feast on those full lips. Her gaze slid across his body and left trails of heat along his skin. Tristan stepped forward, and no bodies between them, he stood close to her. The scents of vanilla and a something dark and rich like cinnamon filled him. He’d never expected to meet a woman at Mesquale. He was here for work, business, the two things that defined his life. And yet …

A gasp caught on her lips. Her gaze flashed up to his.

“Would you care to dance?” he asked.

The briefest pause. Her tongue flicked over her lips, her breath short, gaze intense. She held out her hand to him.

On the dance floor the rhythm grasped her. Heat flared through him with the shifting of her breasts and the shake of her hips. His hand clasped the leather on her waist and he turned her back to him. She pressed into him and skimmed her body down the front of him. She looked over her shoulder, a coy smile on her face.

“You’re a good dancer,” she whispered.

The intense beat stopped and smoothed into a slower tempo. He grasped her to him. Her curvy body melded to his, as though built to be held by him. He needed to peel away the tiny bit of black leather that she wore.

“Let’s get out of here,” he said.

Her fingertips wrapped around his and she followed him off the dance floor, through the mass of slow-dancing bodies.

*

Once they were inside Prim’s vacation beach house, she reached her hand toward his face, toward his mask. He gripped her wrist, his hand a firm vise against her skin. A thrill pulsed through her with his touch.

“Let’s not.” He turned her back toward him and wrapped his arm around her body.

The thrill deepened into a thick want. In so much of her life, she was the boss, she was in control. The responsibility for Metro Media had become more and more hers as Ryan was consumed by his grief. When was the last time she’d surrendered herself to anyone? Surrendered control to anyone? To give this stranger control over her and her body and her pleasure caused a jolt of adrenaline to flood through Prim.

His arm tightened around her, and through their clothes, his cock pressed against her backside. She shifted and slid her body against him. A growl escaped his throat. He lifted her hair from her neck and pressed his lips to her skin.

Heat seared through her. Her mouth dropped open. Layla was oh so correct—eighteen months was too long. Her hand reached back and clasped the side of his leg. His hand skimmed the front of her. Slowly he pressed down, down, down, to where the edge of her black bustier met the lace of her panties. His fingertips grazed the top edge.

A tiny moan escaped her lips. He clasped her wrist with one hand while his lips roamed her neck and the fingertips of his other hand pressed down along the front of her panties.

“Please,” Prim whispered, her breath short and ragged.

“Please what,” his rough voice whispered into her ear. The stubble on his chin roughened her earlobe. His fingertip slipped under the silk of her panties.

Her breath caught in her chest. The pleasure of his touch cascaded through her body.

“Please touch me.”

His finger slipped into her curls. Another fingertip slid past her folds. Again her hips jerked and rolled, this time forward into the pressure of his hand. God, she wanted his touch. Her teeth clamped onto her bottom lip. A high-pitched noise filled with want tore from her lips. His fingertip pressed against her swollen nub, rolling and pressing as her hips went up and back. She wanted more, she needed more.

He pulled her around, and she faced him now. His eyes burned through her and then his lips were on hers, a hard greedy kiss that she returned. She matched his want, his desire, with her own. His hand skimmed over her bustier and pulled her breast from the top, and then he pulled his lips from hers. His gaze remained tied to hers as his thumb stroked over her tight bud of a nipple and then squeezed and pulled.

His lips neared her ear. “You like that?”

“Yes.”

He pulled his lips from her ear and bent forward and pulled her nipple into his mouth. His tongue rolled around her nipple and suckled her.

Heat shot through her. He pressed his other hand to her panties, which were held to her body by the tiniest of strings. With one swift jerk, he pulled them from her. His hand clasped her curls. He pulled his mouth from her nipple. A tiny moan of ache escaped Prim’s mouth.

“This is mine for tonight.”

“Yes,” she whispered out. “Oh God, yes.” Being his for tonight was exactly what she needed, what she wanted. She needed a man to take her, grab her, be in control, to fuck her.

In one swift movement, he pulled the bustier from her. She stood before him, naked except for her heels. He walked her back to the bed and pressed her onto her back.

“Stay,” he said. The word held no anger, no meanness, just a direct command.

She stayed. He stood before her.

“Open your legs.”

Prim’s heart beat fast, so fast. She’d never been ordered to do anything in her life, and yet … and yet, his words filled some sort of unknown need.

She opened her legs. He stood and his eyes roamed over her pussy. Her sex clutched under his gaze. He wasn’t even touching her and yet it felt as if his fingers were pushing against her clit.

Again the wicked half smile danced across his face and he quirked his eyebrow high above his mask. “You like that. Being told what to do.”

She did. God, she did. She could never admit it, not to anyone, barely to herself, but she did like giving in to him and surrendering control. She would surrender to this man for tonight.

“Put your finger on your pussy.”

Prim’s breath hitched, and yet her hand moved to her sex. She pressed her finger to her clit. Slippery and so full of want.

“Feel how wet you are. Do you feel it?”

“Oh, yes,” Prim breathed out.

“Who made you that wet?”

“Oh my God,” Prim said, “you did. You made me this wet.” Her sex clutched and clutched again. Her fingers moved back and forth and slid across her swollen nub. Two more strokes from her fingertips and she would fly apart at the seams.

“Stop,” he said.

Her hand stopped moving. She opened her eyes and he knelt before her, his face close to her sex, his hot breath against her thigh. He clasped her hand and sucked her fingers, her two fingers that had stroked across her wetness. He set them aside. And then his finger stroked up the side of her cleft and teased across her swollen clit.

Prim clutched the comforter with her hand and her hips jerked up toward his tongue, toward his mouth. He grasped her hips with his hands and steadied her. His mouth slowly circled her clit and then closed around her and sucked, and his lips rolled her most sensitive spot.

Heat throbbed through her. Two fingers slid into her. Two very large fingers. God, if his fingers were that big, how would his cock feel in her body? He pulled his mouth from her sex.

“No, no, no, no,” she cried.

He leaned back and stood. She missed his touch. She needed his mouth on her.

“Undo my pants,” he said.

Her gaze locked with his. She sat up and reached for his zipper. She would do anything, anything he asked, to feel that sweet pleasure provided by him. She was desperate to strip him of his clothes. She unbuttoned his jeans.

Her mouth dropped open. She looked up at him.

His cock was huge.

She pulled his jeans down and he stepped out of them. All the while, her eyes were on the giant cock that waited for her. Waited for her to suck it and to spear herself onto it. God, she wanted him to fuck her now, to jam that lovely length of hard male cock into her.

He removed his shirt and stood before her with no clothes. Nothing. Only a mask on his face.

The girl at the disco was right. Prim was wilder when she wore a mask.

“Do you like what you see?” That deep rough voice.

She did like what she saw. She wanted to make him come, to have this huge man make her come.

“Stroke me.”

Prim reached out her hands and grasped his cock at the base and pulled upward in one fine stroke. His belly muscles twitched and she heard a hiss of breath over his teeth.

“Now kiss me.”

He needn’t tell her twice. She took the head of his cock and gave him a long, wet, openmouthed kiss. Hot dribbles of come pulsed from the head of his cock, and she licked it with her tongue, greedy to take the drops into her mouth.

Again the wicked half smile. “You are very bad. I didn’t tell you that you could have those drops, did I?”

Prim looked up at him. No, he hadn’t. He hadn’t given her permission.

“Turn over,” he said. “Get on your hands and knees.”

She did as he told her. A thrill of fear combined with desire trickled through her. She was completely exposed to this man. A man she didn’t know. A man she’d picked up in a club. And yet Prim now waited on the mattress, on her hands and knees. He stood behind her with his cock out. He could do anything to her.

His hand caressed the soft, sensitive skin of her ass.

“A beautiful ass.” He leaned forward and his lips pressed against the soft flesh. His finger slid down the center of her. “So wet.” He paused just at her clit and pressed, and her body jerked backward, toward him, toward his cock, toward the fulfillment that she desperately craved. “But you are a naughty girl.”

His hand slapped against her ass.

A gasp jerked her body. A tingle burst through her sex. The deep, thick heat of an orgasm formed in her body.

He leaned over her, his cock bouncing against the back of her leg. His lips tickled her ear. “You’ve not been spanked before.” His hand soothed over the spot that, after the slap of his palm, had burned with a pleasure Prim had not ever before experienced.

She swallowed and shook her head no. She’d not ever been spanked, and yet she deeply desired for him to spank her again.

“But you do so deserve it.” His hand smacked her ass once, twice, and a third time.

A moan came out of Prim’s body with the third spank. He bent forward and kissed her tingling ass, and then his lips were upon her from behind. His hand reached forward to the front of her sex as he pulsed against her clit, and his tongue roamed into her sex.

Her body clenched. Desire throbbed through her. She wanted the release of orgasm. He reached his arm around her waist and flipped her onto her back, then spread her legs open.

His lips descended to her sex and he pulled her clit and sucked. He devoured her with a greedy want, as though he needed to consume her. He pulled his lips from her slowly.

His gaze locked with hers. “Come now,” he said, still positioned between her legs. His mouth returned to her clit and sucked.

Prim flew apart. Her hips hitched upward as he continued to pull on her nub. His fingers pulsed deep in her sex. A loud shriek tore from her and she bucked upward once more. Her body convulsed as the orgasm shuddered through her body.

He pulled his lips from her sex and moved up onto her and kissed her. The earthy taste of her lingered on his lips. She was sated with her orgasm, but not nearly satisfied.

Hadn’t Layla said she needed to have sex? Needed the sex to reduce her tension? Already the never-ending pain in her shoulder had faded away to nothing.

“Now I’m going to make you come again.” His voice was softer with less command, though his eyes still held lust. He stood from the bed and went to his pants. The sounds of foil being ripped came from the other side of the bed and he returned to her sheathed.

He knelt between her legs. She was wet and aroused. His fingertips found her clit. The head of his cock gently pulsed forward and she felt him, the very end of him, at her entrance. Her hips tilted toward him.

“A girl like you could end a man like me.”

A smile formed on Prim’s lips. He’d had so much control since they’d returned, and she enjoyed knowing the strength it had taken him to withstand her. He pushed farther into her. Heat seared her entrance, and his fingertips circled her clit. He leaned forward, his gaze on hers. They both still wore masks. She reached up and placed her hand on the back of his head as he pressed forward into her.

“You are so tight,” he said through gritted teeth.

“And I want you to fuck me,” Prim said.

And with one blindingly hard thrust he was inside her.

*

Prim woke to the sound of her phone beeping. She jerked up from her bed. Her head throbbed and she pressed her fingertips to her temple.

What the hell?

Her mask was skewed but still on her head. She glanced at the clock on the side table. Shit! Twenty minutes late! Why had she flown commercial? Prim jumped from the bed and rushed toward her already-packed suitcase. She jerked on her yoga pants and long cotton tunic and boots. Casual comfort was best for the plane ride home. Shit. Shit. Shit. She couldn’t miss this plane! If she did, she wouldn’t get to L.A. in time for the torturous Monday-morning meeting with the new owner of Metro Media.