Sweet Seduction Surrender (22 page)

"Turn around and face the wall," he instructed, his voice deliciously smooth and deep. My heart leapt for joy at the demand, my body responded immediately; tingles trailing out from nerve endings, pooling seductively at my core.

I swung away and faced the wall expectantly. My breathing now matching his in speed and raggedness, my breasts straining against the material of my blouse. I longed to rip the blasted thing off and feel his hands against my flesh.

"Place your palms flat against the wall, shoulder width apart, either side of your head," he whispered into my ear, hot breath making my shiver uncontrollable.

I complied without hesitating.

"Good girl," he purred. "Spread your legs." I did as he asked, arching my back hungrily. "I'm going to leave you clothed, so you feel every scrape of material against your hot skin, every little ounce of friction as though its my fingers skimming your sensitive flesh."

I whimpered, my head hanging forward as my breaths began to saw in and out of my mouth. It still surprised me, how turned on I got when he directed events like this. When his sexy, deep voice told me what was going to happen. Laid it all out there, prepared me in a delicious way, that could only be bettered by his touch.

"Are you ready for me, Kate?"

I moaned at the wash of breath that sent tendrils of bliss down my neck.

"Answer me."

"Yes," I whispered.

"Are you wet, baby?"

Oh, Lord yes I was wet. "Yes."

"I want to hear you, Kate. I want you to scream when I remind you that you're mine."

I was right, this was a reminder as much for him to reconnect, as it was for me to never forget I was his.

"Did you put panties on?" he asked, his finger laying a lazy trail over my butt cheeks. The fact that the thin material of the skirt hindered his access made me squirm with wanton need.

I shook my head.

"Louder!" he barked, making me jump right along with my heartbeat.

"No!" I shouted back.

"Good girl," he purred.

His hands skated down the outside of my thighs until his fingers reached the hem of my skirt. He gripped each side and then slowly, torturously lifted the edges up, scrunching the material in his fists as he raised my skirt higher and higher.

"You will not change out of this," he instructed. "I want everyone who sees you to see the creases I'm making, to know I took you like this, in your clothes, against the wall."

"How...?"

"How will they know it's like this, against the wall?" he finished my query for me, having read the thought right out of my mind. "Because they're men, Kate. And they all think about doing this very thing to you when you wear your tight little skirts. But they can't. And I want them to know it."

He was marking me. For some strange reason it made me smile. He must have seen the grin on my lips, because his cheek came to rest against mine as he husked, "You like that, don't you, baby? You like me staking my claim."

"Yes," I whispered, not needing him to force an answer from me. I was so gone for this man.

"Louder!"

"Yes!"

"I want to hear you scream, baby. I want your neighbours to hear you scream. Understand?"

"Yes, I understand!"

"Fuck," he breathed, his head resting down on my shoulder. "You make me crazy."

Ditto.

His hands released my skirt, leaving it scrunched up at my waist, and began slow circles over my butt cheeks. I wondered if he was going to do anything to my rear, and I realised I was eagerly anticipating it, wanting it. I sucked in a breath at that erotic thought and pressed my butt back into him, encouraging him to do his worst. Or best.

"Baby," he groaned. "You want me there?"

I nodded, I couldn't voice my desire aloud. I half expected him to demand,
Louder
, but he just kept stroking my cheeks, and then suddenly smacked his palm against the right one, swiftly followed by the left.

I yelped at the unexpected sting and them moaned at the soothing rub of his hot palm.

"That's for even contemplating I would leave you again," he whispered huskily. "You and me, remember?"

I nodded. Then came the demand.

"Louder, Kate!" Smack, smack!

"Yes! I remember!"

"What do you remember, baby?" Smooth strokes of his palm. My skin felt feverish, stinging but tingling with delight. I was so wet now, my hips shifting in a futile effort to assuage the pressure pooling between my thighs. But I wouldn't dare move my legs. I couldn't, Jason was standing close enough to block my feet from moving. But we all know that's not the only reason why I wouldn't break his command to spread my legs.

Delayed gratification at his instruction. I thrived on this. I never knew it could be this way. I never imagined such rewards from such restrictions. Oh God, this was all I could ever desire in a man. Jason was all I could ever desire in a man.

"Answer me, baby. You're thinking too hard."

"You and me," I said, my voice decidedly husky. "Us, Jason. Always."

"Always, baby. And don't you forget."

The last was said as he guided himself to my entrance, managing to stroke through my wet folds and tease my clit, before sinking himself deep inside. I was momentarily disappointed that he hadn't taken me to that next level. I'd been ready and willing, but Jason was in command. And when he chose to take me that way, it would be because he designed it.

His hands came up and rested over mine on the wall, entwining our fingers as he started a steady rhythm.

"Push back onto me on every stroke," he instructed, voice thick with desire. My body arched and I fell into the rhythm he had established easily. "That's it, baby. You're so fucking beautiful."

His lips started trailing light kisses across what was exposed of my shoulder and up my neck, until he found a soft, sensitive spot of skin and began to suck. I bucked against him, the sensation at my core mingling deliciously with the new tingling at my neck. He was going to leave a mark, his mouth firm and unyielding, his suction bordering on painful. It was entirely intentional. Something that couldn't be missed, in case the wrinkled skirt was overlooked.

He pulled back panting. "Who do you belong to, Kate?"

"You!" I answered loudly without hesitation.

"Oh, fuck!" he shouted, approval at my words, and the loud and swift reply, evident. His hands untangled from my fingers and found my hips, as his speed increased and his pounding became punishing. But not the type of thrust designed to send a painful message home, this was all about a loss of control, what I did to him, what he did to me, wrapped up in the delicious sensation of his invasion of my body.

I moaned, it wasn't loud enough for him, because he rolled his hips in a circle, then thrust at exactly the right angle to hit my G-spot. I screamed at the sudden spike of lust, the wetness between my legs increasing in a rush, the sounds of our love making becoming more obvious with every glide forward and slide out of my moistened depths.

"Fuck, you're wet. Hear that, baby? That's what I do to you. And this..." He thrust hard and ground against me; letting me feel his length, how firm he was, how engorged, how he stretched me to my limits. "This is what you do to me, Kate. I'm fucking crazy for you, baby. I can't get enough."

"Jason," I moaned loudly, letting him know I was close. So close.

"Not yet!" he commanded, thrusting harder and faster, taking me in a way that only he could. It was all encompassing. It consumed me. It ruled me. It blasted any other thoughts or feelings right out of my world. All that existed was Jason's fervent pounding, his tight grip on my hips as he pulled me back onto his advancing shaft, again and again and again.

He moaned and I felt his erection swell further, letting me know he was about to burst with his release. I kept expecting him to tell me to come, he was so close, he liked us to come together. But he didn't and I wondered if he was going to seek his orgasm and deny me mine.

I was finding it harder and harder to follow his directive, the pressure so great I was whimpering and moaning and writhing beneath his onslaught and touch.

I felt one of his hands leave my hip and wrap around the base of his shaft. I wondered what he was doing. Stroking himself? Finishing off what our frantic coupling had started?

But he suddenly stilled all movement. His hips stopped thrusting, he stopped pulling me back and just held me firm at the one grip on my waist. And his hand on his shaft squeezed tight; cutting off any release he was about to have. He stayed like that for several long drawn out, heart pounding, breath rasping seconds.

And groaned an almost painful, "Fuuuuck!"

"Move!" I demanded and received a shockingly hard sting on my butt from the hand that had been left on my hip.

"Not yet," he ground out. "When we come, we come together. And Kate? I want you to feel how much you own me when I fill you full to the brim with my release."

I let a shaking breath out on a whimpered moan.

"Ready, baby?" he asked, voice shaking. How he was denying himself, I don't know. But with Jason there was always a reason.

"Yes," I managed to croak, my desperate need to orgasm evident in my tone.

"Now!" he ordered, thundering forward, both hands back on my hips, pulling me back hard with each punishing thrust forward, and grinding into me with a swirl of his pelvis once seated to the hilt.

He repeated this three times before I lost it. Before I fell tumbling head first over the edge and down into bliss. I screamed his name, moaning and bucking and screaming again and again, as he powered on, his movements possessing me, his body devouring me, his entire being owning me.

And then he found his own release and I swear the glass in the windows rattled at the roar he let out. Hot spurt after hot spurt filled me up, as he bucked and lost his rhythm, and simply ended up jerking and rocking into me on uncontrolled thrusts of his hips. It went on for what felt like a full minute, his release obvious in the heat and wetness that coated my walls, making them quiver and contract, squeezing even more and more out of the man. Milking every last drop.

"Fuck," he whispered, as his movements finally slowed, and his head came to rest in a sweaty weight on my shoulder. "Crazy for you," he added, his voice hoarse from crying out through his entire orgasm.

I shuddered beneath his frame, pressed flat against the wall now, and let an astounded laugh out on a breath of hot air.

"Do you understand now, Kate?" he asked, pulling back and brushing hair of my face tenderly. "
That's
how much you own me, baby. I am yours."

I sighed, feeling sated and sexy and wanted and... complete.

"And Kate?" Jason murmured, laying a soft kiss against my cheek. "Wear me all day, baby."

What? What did that mean?

He pulled back, slipping out of me in a smooth and wet glide, chuckling when I felt his release trickle down my leg.

Oh. That was him. On me. Overflowing and trailing down my leg unhindered by panties.

I groaned, and it wasn't all mortification at having him dry on my naked thighs. No, there was definitely a huge element of arousal in the thought that I would be at work, surrounded by colleagues, wearing Jason Cain.

Willingly. And with pride.

I was late. The carpark out the front of Tremayne Arts was full. Not a spare space for me to park my car. I had to park further down the street in a neighbouring business' carpark, hoping I wouldn't get towed or wheel clamped. As I walked back through those cars before the studio, I noted not only those of Eric's and my foreman's, but also several I didn't know and the sleek, dark Lexus of Tremayne's. Not to mention a rather large truck blocking the exit.

I sucked in a fortifying breath. It was not going to look good the designer turning up an hour late for the arrival of the showroom's pieces. And I was crumpled, my skirt creased, my hair a little ruffled, Jason still wantonly caking my upper thighs, making me moan at the erotic images that flooded my mind on that thought.

Lifting my head and straightening my shoulders I pushed through the front doors and into organised chaos. Jerry, my head builder was helping a half dozen men I didn't know unload the truck and unwrap artwork, under the careful direction of Tremayne. Eric was in the office, probably testing the alarm system, making sure it was ready for when we locked the doors tonight.

I walked directly towards Richard, meeting his curious eyes with a steady gaze of my own.
I would not blush. I would not blush.

"Good morning," I chirped. Tremayne looked at his watch, but when his face came up to meet mine there was only a small smile, no outward sign of disappointment or anger at my tardiness.

"Good morning, Catherine. I thought it best we get started."

"My apologies. Car trouble." I don't think he believed my lie for a moment, but thankfully he didn't challenge me on it.

Eric, on the other hand, having no doubt overheard my excuse, didn't have any trouble voicing an opinion. A wolf whistle emanated from the door to the office.

"Looking good, Katie. Must be the morning air."

The blush was not to be denied. Tremayne cleared his throat at Eric's blatant disregard of professionalism. "If you could carry on here, Catherine, I'll get a briefing from your security man, so he can leave."

Yes, I was quite sure Tremayne wanted Eric off his premises after that little statement. I smiled sweetly and took the floor plan Richard had been using from his offered hand.

I didn't pay attention to what Tremayne and Eric were discussing. I thought it best to leave them to their male posturing. Eric had been clearly riling Tremayne up for some reason. Perhaps something had happened before I arrived to evoke that sort of response from ASI's tech guru. Eric was usually more circumspect than that.

By the time the pieces had been off loaded and only a few remained to be placed, Tremayne was alone in the office, peering at screens and tweaking buttons on the security panel. Clearly deep in concentration trying to come to terms with the highly technical system Eric had installed.

I glanced around for Nick's man, but couldn't see him. A quick flick of my eyes out of the front window showed his car had disappeared. I frowned at him not having said good-bye, but maybe Tremayne had ordered him to leave without disturbing me. I think he was capable of behaving in that fashion.

The last sculpture was pushed into place with a resounding round of applause from Tremayne's removal men. They all said a short farewell to Richard, who just nodded his head distractedly, and then traipsed out of the door. I spun in a slow circle and took in the final - well near final, I still had some more minor tweaking to make over the weekend - effect.

"It looks stunning, Katie," Jerry said at my back.

I turned to look at my foreman. Jerry, obviously, contracted to many people to keep his business afloat, but we'd had a long time close working relationship. His craftsmanship and ability to realise my designs was faultless.

"Thank you, Jerry. You've outdone yourself again and at such short notice."

He smiled, a full beaming smile that cracked his slightly wrinkled, whisker covered face.

"You know we love working for you," he said. "Our side's all done, but if you spot anything I've missed, just give me a bell. I'll send your final invoice out on Monday."

"Excellent. I'll do what I can today, but by Monday my work, too, will be done."

We shook hands and he left the store, the bell on the doorway tinkling.

"We should celebrate," Tremayne said from over my shoulder. I hadn't realised he'd exited the office at last. "It looks brilliant."

I flicked my gaze over the room again, trying to see it from his eyes. I was pleased with what I saw.

"I have a few more small things to complete before it's done. I should really get on with them," I said.

"No, leave it for today, Catherine," Tremayne instructed. Following it up with, "I insist you accompany me to a late lunch. There'll be time enough over the weekend to polish things off, and unfortunately I have to fly away on business this evening, so I shan't see you again until Monday morning, when the store opens its doors."

Business out of town again. For a man hell bent on getting this project completed in such a short time-frame, he was determined not to be present for its execution. As a designer, I would normally be thrilled to be left to my own devices, but this contract had been high pressured, and his presence in the city would have alleviated some of that strain. I couldn't help feeling he liked to shirk his responsibilities. But then again, maybe he was just good at delegation.

I didn't particularly want to have a late lunch with him, considering our awkwardness of before. But had any other client suggested a celebratory meal so close to completion, I would have caved. Wining and dining is very much part of a self-employed interior designer's role.

I swallowed my discomfort and offered a small smile.

"Of course, a late lunch would be fine." I wasn't going to gush over it.

"Superb. We'll take my car."

"Thank you, but I'd rather meet you there. Where do you suggest?" I spoke with certainty, determined to cut all arguments off at the pass.

He hesitated, appearing a little flustered at my staunch refusal to share a vehicle. Maybe surprised I was making such a fuss. I couldn't tell with this man, but something still had me on edge. It could have just been his reaction to my turning down future work with him. Which made me realise I hadn't discussed my up-selling offer with him yet.

"How about Octave's on Parnell Road?" he suggested, naming an exclusive French cuisine eatery that was usually booked out well in advance.

"Splendid," I said, not doubting this man's ability to dine wherever he damn well liked, whenever he damn well pleased. "I have a proposal for you," I added, receiving the exact response I'd been hoping for.

"Oh, really?" he inquired. "How exciting." Well, maybe not the exact same response I had been hoping for, but at least he was no longer put out by my not sharing his car.

Octave's was typically busy when we arrived, but we were ushered to a private table upon arrival, the maître-d' almost appearing apologetic that the only available table was near the kitchen and not in the more favourable spots near the front of the restaurant instead. I half expected Tremayne to insist the poor man move other diners to accommodate us, by the way the maître-d' kept flicking concerned glances his way.

Thankfully, Richard didn't make an issue of it, just nodded his head and followed the little man to our table, pulling out my chair for me to sit down. To my utter surprise he placed both our orders before the man had a chance to escape.

"I hope you don't mind," he said flippantly, once the waiter had left, "but the Cassoulet is not to be missed."

I bit back my retort, thinking I didn't much like this version of Tremayne; bossy, entitled, overly privileged. He wasn't at all fazed by the maître-d's efforts to appease. He was completely at ease having someone bend over backwards to accommodate him. Where Jason could be demanding and dominant privately, Richard Tremayne seemed to publicly mimic, rather poorly I might add, Jason's behaviour. Failing to capture the masculine and extremely sexy mannerisms Jason portrayed, but instead coming across as more of a righteous bully.

He was the epitome of new money.

I wasn't comfortable with that realisation. But then, the only relationship I would be having with this man would be professional.

"So, tell me about your proposal, my dear," Tremayne encouraged.

I took a sip of the wine the waiter had poured before departing with our orders and offered my Katie Anscombe all-business smile. Then launched into my idea. By the time I finished, the meal had been served and Tremayne was resting his head, almost dreamily on his palm, elbow to table top, watching me intently.

"Well," I finished, "Would you be interested in an on going business arrangement such as that?"

"I would be interested in absolutely anything
on-going
with you, Catherine. I thought I made that perfectly clear."

"This would be purely business," I felt obliged to point out.

"Then I accept your proposal," he returned, making me relax into my seat with his lack of argument. I had expected more of a fight, especially when he'd mentioned, 'anything on-going with me'.

"Brilliant," I exclaimed, taking another sip of my drink. "I'll draft up a contract, then."

"I have another contract in mind," he murmured.

I blinked back at him as he leaned across the table towards me, making the whole exchange more intimate than it needed to be.

"You come and work for me exclusively." I sucked in an uncomfortable breath of air. "I have great plans, Catherine. I could offer you steady employment with vast rewards." The 'vast rewards' was said slowly, as though the words were rolling off his tongue. I leaned back in my chair, creating a modicum of distance between us. "It need only be for a limited time, but your reach, post our arrangement, would be immense. My studios will be across Australasia and with my name backing your designs, well, the sky is the limit, as they say."

He was cock sure of himself, I'd give him that. I hadn't even heard of the man before the Montgomery-Smith’s soiree. I could hardly see
his name
having that much of an effect on my business reach. No, his intentions were to lock me into an agreement, which gave him exclusive rights to my time. I was thinking in an effort to persuade me of possible further
arrangements
we could make.

I cleared my throat before I replied. "I like variety, Mr Tremayne," I said, purposely using his surname to further distance myself from this conversation. "I appreciate the offer," I lied. "But my life is here in Auckland and I have no desire to reach beyond my current client base." All truth in that one.

He regarded me for a long moment, then reached forward and took a sip of his wine.

"And I cannot change your mind?" he asked, voice devoid of any emotion at all. It was a little creepy.

"No. I'm sorry," I added, feeling like I shouldn't be apologising, but unable to stop myself under his careful scrutiny.

"That is a shame, my dear," he announced, pulling his wallet from his breast pocket and throwing several large bills onto the table's surface. "I have a plane to catch," he suddenly announced, the previous conversation effectively dismissed.

I wasn't going to complain.

"I hope you have a successful business trip," I offered, standing from my chair, as he had already risen from his.

"Oh, I'm sure it will be more successful than today's," he said on a laboured sigh. This man was so dramatic. And changeable. Now he was cool, calm and remote, a far cry from the intimate and seductive he'd been going for before.

I wondered if he was mentally unstable. And not in the sexy, crazy way Jason was either.

"I'll see you on Monday for the opening?" he asked, placing a hand on the small of my back to guide me from the restaurant. I forced myself not to act on my fervent wish to shrug his unwanted touch off. I'd done enough damage today. I was just enormously relieved to have my car waiting for me out by the kerb.

"Yes, everything will be completed over the weekend, ready for your grand opening," I said, turning to face him on the footpath beside my car. His eyes lifted to my face.

"Take the rest of the afternoon off, Catherine," he instructed. "I've set the alarm on the studio and I'd like to leave it be until tomorrow. A test of the system, if you will."

The system didn't need testing, so his explanation seemed out of place.

"Very well, if that's what you'd like," I said, instead of questioning him on it. He was eccentric, his reasons were his own and wouldn't always make any sense.

"I do insist," he replied coolly. "You deserve an afternoon off." Changeable. My head was spinning keeping up with this man's mood swings.

He bid me farewell and wandered down the street to his own car, getting plenty of appreciative glances from the admiring females he passed. Why he was hung up on me, when he could clearly have any of the women on this street, was a mystery. But one I didn't really care to unravel.

I slipped into my car seat and pulled my cellphone eagerly from my satchel, thoughts of Richard Tremayne's unusual behaviour fleeing my mind in the wake of excitement that stole over me at my impending call. Jason answered on the first ring.