I manage to convince Avery the best place for a cocktail is back at the hotel. Unlike St. Barths—which was a media shit-show thanks to James’s high profile and all his high-profile guests—nobody knows we’re here. Avery is scheduled to make an appearance at Rian’s club tomorrow night. Her phone is protected from hackers using my company’s innovative software. She hasn’t so much as opened a social media app in weeks, but still, I’d prefer to get her back to the suite. Partly to do with safety, but mostly because I’m dying to get her alone again. Especially after her earlier admissions.
They change everything.
If ELEGANCE don’t offer her an editorial tomorrow, I’ll make some calls. I’m not below using my family connections to help her. Now I know it’s what Avery wants, I’ll do everything in my power to make sure she gets it. Especially because it aligns with what I want—her—all to myself.
‘I get six questions,’ Avery announces gleefully, falling onto the sofa. I’ve already swept the suite for bugs, camera trackers, anything suspicious. Thomson and Sterling are in the bar downstairs. Room service have made the bed, turned the sheets down and spread rose petals all over the place. They also left a bottle of Dom Perignon in a chrome cooler with two crystal champagne flutes and chocolate dipped strawberries. I’d bet my life Thomson had something to do with this romantic bullshit. I’m not sure whether to punch him or give him a raise.
‘You do.’ I reach for the champagne, then twist the top until it pops. I’m going to need a drink, never mind Avery. And this shit might not be strong enough for what she is liable to ask.
She rubs her palms together expectantly. ‘Why did you ask where I want to end up?’
Trust her to go for the jugular. As ever, she’s as subtle as a brick.
‘Because I wanted to know.’ I pour the champagne into the flutes and hand her one.
‘That’s not an answer.’ She wrinkles her nose in disgust. ‘Why did you want to know?’
I smirk. ‘That’s question number two.’
‘Cheater!’ She points an accusatory finger my way, and it’s impossible to hold back the laugh in my chest.
‘It’s not cheating. It’s called being “tactical”.’ I take a mouthful of bubbles. Tastes like shit. I’m going to need a whiskey if I’m going to survive this interrogation. Though, truthfully, part of me has come to enjoy this game we play.
I grab the bottle of Macallan from the coffee table—what’s left of it anyway. I made a good dent in the contents last night.
‘Tactical is playing with my pussy before you penetrate it.’ She quirks a brow. What a fucking visual. ‘What you just did there is cheating.’
‘I’m a lot of things, sweetheart—none of which are particularly redeeming—but I’m not, and never will be a cheater. That’s one thing you’ll never have to worry about.’
‘Why would I worry?’ She raises her glass to her lips. I don’t miss the slight waver in her tone. ‘It’s not like we’re exclusive.’
‘That’s not what you said last night when I had my cock buried in you.’ I pour myself a double for good measure.
A tiny gasp hisses from her rosebud lips as her focus falls to my crotch. My tactical techniques have nothing on my distraction techniques—or so I thought.
She catches herself and tuts. ‘Nice try, big guy. You almost got me. Answer the questions and then we can get back to burying cocks.’
I sigh, and give in to the inevitable—something I tend to do a lot around this woman. I drop onto the couch beside her. ‘I asked what you would choose to do because if it involves anything other than glamour modelling, then that changes everything between us.’
Her gaze sharpens as her pupils roam across my features, no doubt trying to analyse me again.
‘If you want it to, that is.’
Avery isn’t the only one going for the jugular. I’ve never been particularly articulate, and tonight is no different.
‘You want to be exclusive?’ She purses her lips together like she’s biting back her shock or maybe even a squeal, knowing her. Her reaction this morning, the tears and the what ifs were enough to imply she’d like to give this thing a go between us. She might not be so keen if she knew how many bodies I’ve buried.
I take her small, manicured hand in my large rough one, and angle my face to hers so our eyes meet. ‘I’m not exactly boyfriend material, sweetheart, but I’m nowhere near ready to give you up.’
‘Thank god for that.’ She winks. ‘I hate giving you a big head but you’re the best shag I’ve ever had!’
My nostrils flare. ‘For the sake of preserving lives, we’re going to pretend I’m the only shag you’ve ever had.’
Her tinkling laughter pierces the air.
I’m not joking.
Her expression morphs into something more serious. ‘What is it about the glamour modelling that you don’t like? Are you worried what your parents would think?’ She worries at her lower lips. ‘Your brothers?’
I huff out a breath. ‘No. They’ll be fucking delighted when they hear about this.’ I motion between us. ‘Your career wouldn’t even come into it.’ I throw back the rest of the whiskey, slam my glass on to the coffee table, then lift Avery onto my lap until she’s straddling me. This is where she belongs. With me. On me. Wrapped around me.
‘What then?’ She reaches for the top button on her white blouse with a devious look in her eyes. It pops open and I get a flash of flawless creamy cleavage, which renders my dick solid in seconds.
‘I don’t share, sweetheart.’ I rip open her blouse with one sharp tug. ‘And these’—I grab her tits in both hands—‘are mine now. No one gets to ogle them but me. You’re going to smash the meeting tomorrow. They’re going to offer you multiple exposures. You’re going to get a phone call from every bridal range you’ve ever dreamed of working with, and the only person taking photos of these… will be me.’
She smirks and grinds against me in response. ‘You know you’re a walking red flag, right?’
‘I told you already, you don’t know the half of it, baby.’
‘That turns me on way more than it should.’ She reaches for my buckle, yanks it open, along with my suit trousers. My erection springs free. She eyes it with wonder, wraps two hands around it, then pumps. ‘I need you to come on my tits. Mark them as yours.’
Fuck.
I hiss.
Avery was my dream woman before I discovered her filthy mouth and ability to read my fucking mind. I tug her bra down until her full, round breasts spill over the top of the luxurious lace fabric. It’s almost too pretty to tear. Almost. I rip it from her chest and she pumps me harder. ‘I’ll buy you more,’ I promise. I’ll buy her anything her heart desires, because she’s the only thing that my heart desires. And my dick. And every other damn part of me.
I brush my thumbs over her furled pink nipples. They’re mine now. Mine, and mine alone.
She inches her face down, lips hovering millimetres away from mine. ‘I’m yours,’ she whispers, pumping me harder. Yep—the woman is a mind reader.
‘Damn fucking right you are.’ I claim her lips, sucking her tongue into my mouth as my hands roam over her chest. She flicks a thumb over my tip, coating my cock in my own arousal. I’m embarrassingly close, but this is too good. She’s too good. She’s everything I never knew I needed, and now she’s giving herself to me. I tear my lips from hers as the first hot burst of cum hits her right breast. White-hot pleasure hijacks my entire body as I experience the most intense orgasm of my life.
‘So fucking hot.’ She grinds her pussy against my thigh as my cum drips over her skin. Her fingers swipe through the sticky mess and she smears it over both breasts before bringing her finger to her mouth and sucking.
Fuck. She loves it. Loves being marked, claimed, covered in my cum. I was half in love with her before, but fuck me, after that—I’m all in.
‘On the coffee table, now.’ I hoist her up from my lap.
‘Yes sir,’ she purrs.
‘Lose the skirt. In fact, lose everything.’ This is one sight I need to commit to memory. I watch as she rushes to wiggle out of her clothes and clambers onto the cool mirrored surface, head down, ass up.
‘Spread your legs.’
She parts them. ‘Wider,’ I demand, and she obeys.
Her pink cunt is glistening—just the way I like it. I drop to my knees by the edge of the glass. Our eyes lock in the mirrored table top just below her stomach. She’ll be able to watch as I eat her out from behind. The thought is enough to send blood racing to my dick again.
I smooth my palms over the curve of her ass, then dip my face between her legs. The first touch with my tongue is long and slow. She moans, but nowhere near loud enough for my taste. By the time I’ve finished with her, she’s going to be screaming my name so loud her stalker will hear her wherever he is in the world.
The thought makes me feral.
I thrust my tongue into her hot tight channel and she bucks against my face. Sliding my hand around the front, I tease her clit and she screams.
Better.
But still not loud enough.
I increase the pressure, and my pace, until her legs tremble like a newborn fawn.
‘Killian,’ she screams, arching her back and bucking against my face as she comes harder than a train.
I smile against her sex as I lick up every single drop.
