Tristan's Temptation (11 page)

“Of course I’ve had boyfriends.” Again, she looked away. He was beginning to really dislike when she looked away. “Just not for a while.”

“How long?” He swallowed the sudden lump in his throat, dreading her answer.

“A while.”

“How long?”

Her response was a mulish frown.

“Do you want another spanking?” He was teasing, but not really. Even though his hand ached, he was up to the task should the need arise.

She grimaced and rubbed her ass. “No, I don’t want another spanking.” She shot him a saucy little grin. “At least not for a while.”

“Then tell me.”

“Six years.”

Six years. Hell.
Six years.
She hadn’t been with another man since she’d met him. That was… Wow. That was incredible.

“That makes me so horny,” he finally said and she laughed.

“Everything makes you horny.” She stood, reaching down to help him up as well. “Do you want some cake? I’m going to have some after I freshen up.”

“Did I make you hungry?”

“That was quite a workout. But then, you always make me hungry. But I’ve been fantasizing about this cake since I bought it at Donna’s this afternoon.”

“Ooh. You didn’t mention it was from Donna’s.”

“Chocolate Death.”

His stomach growled. “My favorite.”

She shot him a coquettish smile. “I know.” She sauntered into the kitchen, a saucy twitch to her behind.

Of course he followed.

By the time they finished eating, frosting was all over the sheets.

Chapter Nine

Their conversation roiled in his mind all night, keeping him from sleep. That Shannon hadn’t been with anyone but him for years was mind-blowing. And it made him a little crazy. Even after a full night of soul-satisfying sex, he still wanted her.

But he wanted more than that. He wanted her wanting him with an equal fervor. His imagination was afire with the possibilities. By the time he arrived in the office the next morning, he’d hatched a devious plan. He got in a little late because he’d had to make a stop at a boutique on Sherman Way. Once in his office, he shut the blinds and waited for her to appear.

As soon as he saw her emerging from the lunchroom where she’d been brewing coffee for their upcoming staff meeting, he called her into his office.

“Good morning, Tristan,” she said softly as she appeared at his door. Today she wore a crisp jacket with a flirty skirt.

“Good morning, Shannon. Please come in and close the door.”

She complied, sauntering to his desk, her ubiquitous steno pad in hand. “Did you…want something?” Her smile was mischievous and alluring.

“You know what I want.” He motioned her closer.

She stepped around the desk and stood before him, smiling down at him with an angelic mien. She was absolutely gorgeous this morning, practically glowing with feminine contentment. Though she wore a perfectly respectable business suit, on her it was unbelievably sexy. He wanted to bend her over the desk and take her right then and there but he had bigger plans.

He caressed her hip and let his palm slide down over her soft bottom. “Have you recovered?”

She laughed lightly. “Barely. Last night was amazing.”

“Tonight will be better.”

Her lips twitched. “Oh? Do we have plans tonight?”

He grinned. “I do.”

“Do tell…” She cupped the back of his neck, threading her fingers through the hair curling at his nape.

“I made reservations at a club I know. We’ll be having dinner there.”

“Which club?”

“It’s a private club. You’ve probably never heard of it.”

“Try me.”

He leaned in and whispered, “The Pleasure Palace.”

“Dear heavens.” He could tell from her expression she’d heard of it. The club was a carefully guarded secret of the rich and famous, a place where private dinners were served in secluded alcoves and themed suites. It was a place where any fantasy could be lived out to its fullest with utmost discretion. “Are you a member?”

“One of our clients is co-owner. He owed me a favor.”

“Oh my.”

He knew what she was thinking. She’d guessed what he had planned. But only part of it. He was much more devious than she could ever imagine.

“Does the notion of being at my complete command arouse you?”

She swallowed heavily. “Yes.”

“Are you going to think about it all day now?”

A small squeak emanated from her sweet, bow-shaped lips. “Yes.”

He let his hand slip down her thigh and around, up the front of her dress. He found her lacy panties and slipped a finger beneath the band.

“Tristan.”

His blood thickened as he stroked her damp lips. God. She was already ready. The urge to fuck her here and now rode him hard but he resisted. He wanted her mad with it. Crazed.

“I got you a present,” he rasped, gesturing to the small box on the desk.

She shuddered, gulped. “What? What is it?”

“Open it.” His voice held a thread of command.

She trembled as she reached for the box and he noticed this with tremendous satisfaction. Poor thing. She had no idea what was in store for her. She opened the box and stared down at the two brass balls in silence. “What are these for?”

“For your pussy.” To illustrate the point, he slipped his fingers up into her weeping canal. She moaned. “Put them in.”

“What?”

“Put them in. You know what they are, don’t you?”

“I’ve seen Ben Wa balls before.”

“But you’ve never used them?”

She shook her head. Her pink tongue danced out to dampen her lips. He warmed at the sight.

“I want them in you all day, making you throb from the inside out.”

“I can’t wear these all day.”

“I think you can.”

“Tristan, we have a staff meeting in…” She checked her watch. “Ten minutes.”

His grin was slow and perhaps a little wicked. “I know. And all during the meeting, with each twitch of your muscles, those balls are going to remind you what’s coming. They are going to remind you about tonight.”

She shuddered and her cunt clenched around his fingers. He yanked them out. “No coming,” he warned her. “No sneaking off to the bathroom to play with your clit. Promise me.”

“You’re driving me crazy!”

“That would be the plan.”

She tipped her head to the side. “Tristan, we can’t do this in the office.”

He frowned. “Why not?”

“What about your rule?”

“To hell with the rule. Adam broke the rule. Why shouldn’t I get my fun as well?”

“But…”

“No buts, Shannon. Put them inside. Now. Or you’ll pay for your disobedience tonight. They have all sorts of rooms at the Palace, you know.”

Her throat worked as her gaze skipped from him to the balls and back. Her hesitation made him suspect she was going to chicken out, a thought that sent a shaft of disappointment through him. But in the end, she didn’t. In the end, she lifted her leg, placed it on his thigh and, holding onto his shoulder for balance, slipped first one and then the other orb into her pussy. She hissed as they eased, inexorably, in.

“They’re cold,” she whispered.

“Not for long.” His fingers joined hers inside her canal, pressing the balls deeper still. “Don’t let them fall out.” He pulled her panties up tight in her crack until the crotch rubbed against her clit. She moaned and he bit back an evil chuckle.

It was going to be a long day. For both of them.

And it was.

By close of business, Shannon was cross-eyed with lust. She’d thought of nothing but Tristan, his cock inside her, all day. The sensation of fullness, the slight movements of the balls inside her, the heat scorching her body from the inside out, had her going mad.

Conversations were difficult, to say the least. And more than once, her coworkers paused during an exchange to stare at her.

“Are you all right?” Kat asked when they met at the copier. “You look like you’re in pain.”

“Yes. I’m fine.”

Kat’s expression was dubious.

“Really. I’m just tired.”

“You should go home if you don’t feel well.”

It was all Shannon could do not to snort. Would that she could go home. Or better yet, march into Tristan’s office and demand he fuck her right then and there. But she wouldn’t. She couldn’t. This was his game and she was determined to prove to him she could play along.

But dear heavens, it was killing her.

She almost fainted with relief when she checked the clock on her laptop and discovered it was almost five. Almost time.

He made her wait until everyone had left the office, another agonizing hour. And then he came to her.

He stood at her desk, looming over her like a dark, delicious shadow. “Are you ready?”

“Am I.”

He chuckled. She was not amused. She was too horny to be amused.

She stroked his hard thigh, perilously close to something harder. “We could just stay here.”

He captured her hand with his own. “No, Shannon. We have reservations.”

“But Tristan…”

“Come on.” He grabbed her coat and purse. “No pouting. Let’s go.”

The short drive took forever. Shannon never fretted much over LA traffic but today she desperately wanted a bazooka to blow away every car in their path.

He glanced over at her and grinned. “Not long now.”

She glared at him. Her mild arousal had, through the day, morphed into a raging inferno. She was so wet the balls kept slipping out and each time she surreptitiously reached down to press them back in, she nearly exploded.

“You’re going to pay for this, Tristan Trillo.”

Though her threat was a roiling growl, he laughed. “I certainly hope so.”

He pulled through a pair of bronze gates and into a small parking lot next to a rather fanciful, though understated, mansion. The sign at the gate said simply,
Privat
.

A flutter arose in the region of her heart. “Is this it?”

How he heard her whisper, she didn’t know. “Yes, Shannon. This is it.” He turned to her, his expression tight. “Are you ready? Because God knows I am.”

She swallowed. Nodded. Her body was molten, her limbs like rubber. She prayed she could walk the short distance to the door.

He came around the car, opened her door and helped her out. He kept hold of her hand as they walked toward the Palace. His palm was slightly damp. She could only hope he was suffering as much as she.

They were greeted by a butler in formal attire. “Name?”

Tristan cleared his throat. “Trillo.”

“Ah yes.” The butler’s gaze flicked from Tristan to Shannon. It took some effort but she forced herself not to wonder what the ever-so-proper gentleman was thinking of her. “Mr. Trillo. This way please.” The butler opened the door and led them up a wide, sweeping staircase and down several corridors to an intricately carved door. They saw no one else in that short time. Not a soul. “You are in the Pasha Room.”

A jolt of excitement sizzled through her body. She glanced at Tristan but his demeanor gave nothing away. How on earth had he known about her fantasy? She flushed as she realized how, exactly, he’d known. She’d left a trail of breadcrumbs in her Virtual Life account.

“Please ring when you are ready for dinner.” The butler nodded and left them there in the hallway.

And they were alone.

Anticipation, desperation, mind-numbing hunger swamped her soul.

“Tristan.” Shannon gripped the arm of his coat. “I don’t think I can move.”

His Adam’s apple bobbed. “It’s okay, Shannon,” he said. “Let me take care of everything.” He swung her up in his arms and pushed open the door with his shoulder.

How it thrilled her. Tristan’s arms around her, the feel of his masterful embrace, being held close against his hard, hot chest. And he was hot. Heat rolled off him in waves. She couldn’t resist the opportunity of her position to suckle the sweet flesh of his neck.

He stumbled but caught himself. His chuckle reverberated through her body. “You will pay for that, my minx.”

She laughed and repeated his earlier words. “I hope so.”

On the threshold of the room, he paused. “Close your eyes.”

She pouted. “Do I have to?”

“Yes, silly. That’s how it works. Close your eyes and imagine your deepest, darkest fantasy.”

Shannon stilled. Dear heavens. She’d never told anyone her deepest, darkest fantasy. It had always seemed far too intimate. Far too raw. That he knew of it frightened her to death. She shivered.

“Trust me,” he whispered. “Close your eyes.” She did and he kissed each lid in turn. “You’re safe with me.”

And somehow, she knew she was.

He stepped into the room and stopped cold. His muscles clenched around her. Instinctively, she opened her eyes.

Her breath snagged in her lungs.

The room was everything she had imagined. An illicit thrill shot through her as she took in the scene. It was lush and luxurious and decadent, swathed in silks and satins. Velvet pillows adorned a wide divan and were scattered around a low-lying table. An elaborate high-backed chair held court in the center of the room. Its purpose was obvious in the well-positioned straps. Nearby, a small table was decorated with all manner of toys—feathers and whips and…

She shuddered. “I don’t think…”

He chuckled. “Then don’t. Don’t think.” Slowly, he lowered her to the ground. “Simply enjoy.”

She buried her face in his shirt, quivering. Cowardly. Suddenly afraid. Not of him. Of herself. “Tristan…”

He silenced her with a kiss then turned her and pulled her back against his chest. “Shannon. This is your fantasy. Embrace it. I’m here to bring you pleasure.”

She frowned. “There’s a real difference between fantasizing something and actually doing it.”

“I know.” His grin was wicked. He gestured to the chair. “Shall we, my captive?”

She trembled at his words, at the vision, the illicit imagery they evoked. But he was there behind her. His palms skated down her arms and warmth flooded her. She allowed a tiny nod. Yes. This was her fantasy. It always had been. To be tied and forced to passion.

To see it laid out before her was overwhelming.

He leaned closer and whispered in her ear, “You are mine, Shannon. Mine to torment. Mine to please. But first…remove your clothes.”