Too Much: A Loveswept Contemporary Erotic Romance (All or Nothing) (17 page)

“Give it some time. An hour or so. Not right now. Everyone is watching, and some of these people know your history, J.C. Remember that,” she warned him.

Copeland took a deep breath and nodded. She was right. He hated it, but he had to give Daly time to circulate. He’d get her alone somehow tonight and then he’d …

“Why are you here, Copeland?” Judge Edwards’s voice was filled with loathing.

Copeland turned to the man who had destroyed his world and raised an eyebrow. “Not a very warm welcome, Heyward, for one of the city’s most generous benefactors.”

The man’s face turned red under his golden tan. “My daughter is here.”

Copeland allowed a lazy grin to cross his face. “I noticed.”

“You bastard! You’re trash. Leave my daughter alo—”

“Well now, Judge Edwards, don’t go getting all upset on my behalf. I’m a big girl now and we’re not here to argue. We’re here to raise money. Detective Cavanaugh,” Daly said, holding out her hand. “It’s a pleasure to see you again.”

Savvy shook her hand and then stepped closer to Copeland. Daly’s face did that tightening thing again before it smoothed out.

“Stay away from him, Dalia,” her father warned.

Daly turned her gaze to her father. Jeremiah felt the tension snake between them. His woman never once looked at him, just kept her attention focused on the judge.

“Judge Edwards, I think I saw Harlon Capshaw over at the bar. Perhaps you should go catch up. He’d be a wonderful addition to the Juvenile Justice board,” Daly encouraged in a low
tone.

Her father’s face relaxed and he straightened his tuxedo. “I’ll do that very thing,” he said as he leaned down to kiss his daughter on the cheek.

Daly subtly avoided the peck and patted him on the arm. “Thank you, Judge.”

They all watched the other man walk away and Daly took a deep breath. The action pressed her breasts upward, and Copeland’s dick went rock hard. Again. Her scent taunted him, something exotic but soft. He wondered if she still dabbed perfume behind her ears and knees.

“Nice of you to come out tonight,” Daly said softly as she glanced up at him.

He nodded. It was all he could do. Her gaze had stolen his mind.
Pain.
He wanted to drop to his knees and beg her to forgive him. Yet this was all for her. He’d protect her with his last breath. Even if it ripped his heart out to do so.

“Well, of course we’d be here,” Savvy said with a smile. “After all, the program is named after Jeremiah, isn’t it?”

Copeland glanced at Savvy and wanted to tape her mouth shut. What was her endgame?

Daly shook her head. “I actually named it after a friend I knew way back when. He was a strong man, willing to fight to overcome his past. He never gave up.” She gave him the full force of her gaze then and his chest went hot. “Until one day he did.”

“Ahhh, that’s right, you two have a history,” Savvy responded with a heavy sigh as she threaded her arm through Copeland’s. “Well, whatever the case, I hope you raise a lot of money for the kids of Atlanta.”

Daly inclined her head. Someone called her name and she turned away from them, not looking again at Copeland.

“What the fuck was that about?” Copeland asked.

“You should really leave that woman alone. The judge has a hard-on for you and you just keep breaking
her
heart. It’s kinda pathetic, J.C.”

A waiter stopped by them and Copeland grabbed a drink off the tray he was holding. “Sir, that’s not—”

Copeland downed it in one swallow. Whiskey neat. He relished the burn and set the glass back on the tray. “Thanks. Another, please?”

The waiter nodded and set off.

Copeland turned to Savvy. “Don’t you ever try to hurt or embarrass her again.”

Savvy pressed against him playfully. “Yeah? Whatcha gonna do to me if I do that to her?”

Copeland felt someone’s gaze and he unerringly found the source. Daly was staring at him across the ballroom. Her distress communicated easily—it was no less than what he was feeling.

“You don’t want to know, Detective Cavanaugh. Believe me,” he bit out and walked to the bar.

An hour passed as Copeland played with a beer from his perch at the bar. He’d watched Daly flirt, schmooze, and work the crowd, most especially every old man in the ballroom. No doubt her program had raised bucket loads of money tonight. The younger men attempted to get close to her but she always politely deferred their attention elsewhere.

Good thing for the men and her. Every single dominant instinct in Copeland clamored for him to grasp his woman, take her home, and fuck her until all she saw, all she knew, was him. The only thing that kept him sane during that hour was the fact that someone was willing to use her to hurt him.

That was unacceptable. But he had to get his hands on her. He had to remind her that he owned her and she had all of him. And he knew exactly how he was going to do it.

* * *

Her chest hurt. More specifically, her heart. How she’d managed to keep from flying into tiny little pieces when she’d seen Jeremiah with Detective Cavanaugh she’d never know. But she had, and now she needed a break from the press of the crowd in the ballroom.

He’d looked so damn good standing there, eyebrow raised, hand around another woman’s waist. His pinstriped suit, crisp white shirt, and pink tie had been a great big “fuck you” to the older gentlemen in tuxes. Jeremiah made everything he wore look better than any other man’s finest. Her eyes watered and she sniffed, determined not to cry. Not here.

She headed up the main staircase that overlooked the ballroom, intent on finding a secluded alcove in the library, when a door to her right opened and she was pulled into a tiny room.

“What the—”

Her words were cut off by
his
mouth. A split second before his lips landed over hers she’d smelled the quintessential scent that was Jeremiah’s alone. Then his tongue dove deep into her mouth and all thought fled in place of heat and need.

He left no part of her mouth untouched. He sipped at her lips and dueled with her tongue. His hands curled in her hair, holding her still and turning her head the exact way he needed it to take her over the edge. Jeremiah pushed her against the wall at her back, and it was smooth and cold on her flesh.

A window? A mirror?

The kiss of icy glass in contrast to his heat startled her, dissipating the warmth and
ushering in reality. She pushed at his shoulders. “What are you doing, Jeremiah?”

There was no light save the bleak glow of the room beyond them. She turned her head and stared out over the assembled guests in the ballroom below. Desire curled in her gut.

“We aren’t doing this here,” she bit out.

“We’ll do it wherever the fuck I say we’ll do it,” he growled in her ear before he bit delicately on her lobe and turned her to face the glass. “Do you understand?”

“I’m not fucking you in a closet,” she whispered. Excitement joined the desire and her nipples beaded around her piercings as she went wet between her thighs.

He raised her skirt, big hands kneading her ass before he slapped first one cheek and then the other. Hard.

The sting was immediate, the burn afterward so fucking hot her eyes crossed.

“You’ll fuck me wherever I say you will.”

Every word had intent and excited her.

“No, Jeremiah. Three days, no call, and you’re here with another woman?” she asked through clenched teeth.

“No, Day. I’m here with you,” he responded in a lust-roughened voice.

“You have to explain this, Jere—”

His hand dipped and a single finger dove beneath the lace of her thong, taking her mind. He stroked over her clit and then delved between her nether lips, slowly circling her flesh. He pulled his hand away and she heard him lick his finger. “It’s only ever you, Day. My beginning and my end, my everything.”

Her knees weakened and she almost fell, but he used his lower body to press her against the glass at her front.

He grunted. “Goddamn, you taste good. I think your disobedience makes you even sweeter.”

She moaned then, wishing she could hold it in but simply unable to do so. He took her mind when he controlled her body. Everything else faded but the need to please him and have him return the favor.

He quite simply owned her.

She felt him unzip the back of the dress. “Put your hands on the glass,” he ordered.

When she hesitated, he reached around, pushed the top of her dress lower, and pinched one of her nipples. She hissed in a breath. “Fuck you.”

“That’s the idea, Day. Now put your hands on the glass.”

She did, and he rewarded her with another short, swift spank on her ass. She burned again where his hand left its imprint. She’d kill to see the marks. But it was dark save the meager light streaming in from the room outside. Daly wished she could watch their coupling.

Her breathing ratcheted up at the thought that maybe the people below could see
them.

“You just realized they might be able to see us, didn’t you, baby?”

She nodded.

“Speak your answers,” he commanded.

“Yes.”

Two thudding taps on her ass. “Yes, who?”

She hated the thudding spanks. She craved the biting ones. Those sank deep and left a blazing heat that always took her so high. “Yes, Sir.”

“There’s my little sub,” he said gutturally at her neck. “I had to watch you fawn over other men tonight. Do you know what that did to me, Daly?”

“No, Sir.”

“Yes you do,” he said, and used the fingers on both hands to scissor at her nipples, squeezing and then releasing, tugging and then rubbing. “You know it drove me insane to see another man’s hands on what’s mine alone.”

Anger pierced her then. How dare he? She’d had to watch him with Detective Cavanaugh. Even though her mind was foggy with lust, his words penetrated. “Maybe it isn’t yours.”

He stilled behind her and she wanted to curse her mouth. She was soaking wet, had the man who held her dreams behind her, and her big damn mouth just had to go there. Her body was pissed while her heart was yelling “Hell yeah!”

“Then whose is it, Daly?”

A single tear fell and her voice thickened. Nothing to be done for it, she supposed. He’d hurt her again. No contact in three days and she had to walk into this tonight? She’d been ripped wide open seeing him with another woman—a woman he’d fucked before. Damn him!

“It’s mine. To give to whom I find fit,” she said around her tears.

He hadn’t moved a muscle behind her and her body wanted to curl into his, alleviate his tension while finding succor inside him. Crazy that the one who’d hurt her was the one she wanted to turn to.

“You’re telling me again I have to earn it?” His voice was deep and full of something she didn’t want to consider. Not with his actions the last few days.

No way did Jeremiah love her. Love didn’t hurt the way he’d hurt her.

She had to reach down into the well of her strength. “That’s exactly what I’m saying,” she responded, and her voice was stronger now.

“Keep your hands on the glass, sub,” he ground out.

Just that quickly, the lust was back in force.

“You see them, below us? I know you like to be watched, or you at least like the thought
of being watched. What would it be like to have all of those people knowing I’m fucking this pussy—
my
pussy? Will it make you hotter? Wetter? Will it make you come harder on my cock if they hear you screaming?”

She gave him silence because he’d taken her breath with his words.

Jeremiah spanked her, hard taps that stung and then cooled off to smolder so sweetly.

“Answer me, goddamn it.”

“Yes.”

It was still dark, but her eyes had adjusted and she knew his had too. Desire wracked her, stretching her skin tight. His words always scattered her wits but forced her desire to unmanageable levels.

Her ass was bared to his gaze, skirt lifted high, and she was now bent slightly at the waist because her hands were on the glass in front of her. He had pushed her top down, freeing her breasts.

Her breathing was shallow and loud in the enclosed space. She inhaled him with every breath she took and tried to taste him on her lips.

He was quiet, making her wonder when his next command would come. Her Dom loved to play her this way.

“Not mine,” she whispered on a sigh. He wasn’t
hers.

“Always yours,” he said in a gruff tone.

She hadn’t meant for him to hear. His refutation of her words had her heart kicking into a staggering beat. Heat blossomed in her abdomen and her pussy clenched. She needed him.

“Pick a person below and concentrate on them. Describe them to me,” he ordered.

“Yes, Sir.”

Her gaze found Detective Cavanaugh and she wanted to curse.

He swatted her ass just once and she arched back, silently demanding more.

“Describe them to me.” His voice was so raspy she had to strain to understand him. It was sexy as hell.

“Long brown hair. She’s taller than me but skinnier. Small breasts and hips, nice ass for all that. She’s wearing a dark blue dress,” she intoned.

He laughed, and even that was hot. He’d known she’d pick the woman he’d come here with tonight.

He cleared his throat and settled his hands on her hips. They clenched and released on her flesh, as if he waged a war with himself to prevent grabbing her and pulling her to him. His hands began to rove up her body, skimming along her side until he came to her hair and sank them in deep.

“Her hair is brown and long, but it doesn’t shine in the light and smell like roses. I’ve
never felt her hair, never had it wrapped around my fists as I pumped into her body, so I don’t know if it’s as soft as yours.” He let his hands filter through her strands, and then he inhaled deeply.

He smoothed her hair where he’d mussed it. And then once again his hands began to move, this time lingering on her shoulders and sides, stroking over her flesh and her dress, marking her with his touch.

“I prefer my woman shorter and with curves that linger in my mind long after they’re covered and out of my sight. I like the way my woman fits like a puzzle piece against my body, settling her softness gently into my hardness and making me complete.”