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Suffering his touch? Rage began to percolate and boil. Suffering? In a move that shocked her, Boston shoved her up against the wall and pushed hard into her face, coming so close his breath lifted the tendrils of hair framing her jaw. “Suffering my touch? Is that so? I don’t recall you complaining when I was fucking you. But then maybe it was hard to tell from all the moaning you were doing.”
“What can I say? I’m a great actress,” she hissed and Boston’s hand flew up but he pulled back seconds before connecting with her lying face. He pushed away from her, disgusted and heart-broken. “Get the fuck out of here before I do something I regret.”
“I dare you to hit me. I’ll own you.”
“Get out.” She was just to the door when he turned and added with a sneer, “And honey, you overestimate your appeal. The Buchanans would’ve fucked you raw and then sent you on your way without even remembering your name. I’ve seen it happen a million times. It was my bad luck that you landed in my world instead.”
“That makes two of us,” she countered with an angry glitter. “Thanks for nothing, asshole.”
And when Gigi left — which later he learned wasn’t even her real name — she drop kicked his heart through the open door.
Painful as it’d been, he learned a powerful lesson — women couldn’t be trusted.
And always do a background check.
#
Julianna exited the bathroom and found the room empty. A small frown followed as she realized she’d expected Boston to be there waiting for her. Good, she told herself. She needed some alone time. She quickly dressed and decided to take a stroll around this monstronsity of a house. It was like living in an European castle, or at the very least a hotel. All of this for one man? Seemed excessive. Why did wealthy people have to live in such big houses? A modest three-bedroom wasn’t enough? She descended the marble staircase to the first level and her steps echoed off the gleaming floors. She shivered and realized maybe she ought to have grabbed a blanket to tuck around herself because this place was cold. Pretty flowers, she noted as she passed a huge fresh spray of mind-bogglingly beautiful flowers. Probably had them delivered every day and never even noticed them. She actually preferred plants to flowers because plants didn’t die within three days. Well, most plants. She had a bit of a black thumb but not from lack of trying. Finally, her brother Tom made her promise to do the plants a favor and stop buying them because the minute she placed them in her cart, she was dooming them to certain death.
She heard a subtle, muffled noise and she followed it to another cavernous hall that branched into another room. A very manly room. Stag heads and other dead animal heads hung from the wall and she grimaced at the macabre custom.
“Are you lost?” Boston’s voice asked from behind a huge chair. He swiveled around and his mouth turned up in a cool smile at her entrance. “What are you doing wandering about? Haven’t you been warned that you could get lost in this big house?”
“I was bored. You can’t keep me caged in a room. That wasn’t part of the deal.”
“Wasn’t it?”
She glared. “No.”
Boston shrugged. “Damn, I should’ve been more specific in the agreement you signed.”
She ignored his odd mood and wandered the room, taking in the dark paneling and the thick bearskin rug sprawled out in front of the massive fireplace. “This place is unreal. Very old world. Was your dad a medieval lord?” At that he laughed and poured himself a drink, which by the looks of it, wasn’t his first. She gestured to the alcohol. “What’s wrong with you? I took a shower and came out and you were gone and now I find your drowning your sorrows in booze. What’d I miss?”
He waved away her question and pointed at the elk staring with glass eyes straight at her. “You see that? My dad shot it with one shot. He was quite the marksman. He never took shortcuts and he always got what he was after. Gotta admire a man like that.”
“I have different views of killing defenseless animals.”
“Of course you do,” he said with a sigh as if weary of her constant chattering about her ideals and morals. “Well, if it assuages your conscience, we always ate what he killed. Elk steaks are quite delicious.”
“I’ll take your word for it.” She walked to the fine, mahogany desk and ran her fingers along the shiny grain. “Your dad liked to spend a lot of time in here?”
“When he could. It was his haven. I spent many happy moments in here in my childhood.”
“So if this place is filled with happy memories, why the sour face?” Did she want to know? Maybe it wasn’t wise to poke at his personal problems but yeah, she did want to know. There was a sadness to him that tugged at her in a way that defied explanation. Hell, maybe she was just bored and needed something to distract her. Yeah, that was it. “I mean, what could possibly be going so wrong in your life? You have everything you ever could want.”
“So it would seem.”
“Oh c’mon…don’t pull the poor little rich boy routine because I’m not buying it.”
“Fine.” He swallowed the last of his drink and motioned for her to come to him. A slow sensual smile fitted to his lips and for a moment she felt as if she were the one tipping back the booze. “Come here and take my mind off my troubles.”
“And how am I supposed to do that?” she asked, sliding her tongue along the seam of her lips. He unzipped his pants and let them fall open. The tip of his cock peeped up and she gasped involuntarily as hunger ripped through her. Goddamn! Why did he have this kind of hold on her? She envisioned herself turning on her heel and leaving him alone but her feet had other plans. He was the devil; lounging with such lazy grace that he epitomized rich, sexy and smug with the knowledge that he was hung like a beast.
He watched her approach, something glinting in his eyes that called to her like a siren drawing her to her doom. “Is that all that will ever be between us?” she asked in a husky whisper as she knelt before him, questioning him even as she tenderly grasped that hard, straining length. Who was she kidding? She wanted to feel him as desperately as ten-dollar hooker needing to fund her next fix. It was pathetic and primal at the same time. He scooted further down in the chair and there was something grim in his stare as he answered with a dim sadness.
“It’s not in me to offer more.”
She closed her eyes and slipped the soft spongy head into her mouth, hating that soul-deep need for something more than the physical.
What a fucked up situation.
-9-
“Pack a bag, we’re going on a trip.”
“A trip? Where?” she asked, startling at his brusque instruction and nearly dropping her book in the process when he entered the room. It’d been a little past a month and oddly, they’d fallen into a routine that was beginning to feel natural — and if that wasn’t the most screwed up statement of her life, she didn’t know what was. “Hot or cold weather?” She followed him into the walk-in closet, grudgingly admiring how handsome he was in his dark suit and tie. Power suit, that’s what it was called. And the term was appropriate. Boston always looked ready to destroy someone with the flick of a finger. She’d never known that power was such a turn-on, but it was.
He paused as he pulled his tie free and graced her with a short, enticing smile. “Hot. Pack light. You won’t be wearing much clothing.”
Ohh…Her cheeks flamed but she nodded as she hurried to throw together her stuff. After she’d managed to find a few appropriate items, she had just zipped up her bag when she felt Boston at her backside, pre
ssing against her as he nibbled her neck. “You are in my blood, you know that?” he murmured, his voice sending delightful shivers cascading through her body. “Hard to concentrate on meetings and mergers when you’ve got this poking through your pants,” he said, pushing his hard length against her. She gasped and pushed back, secretly loving how easily she distracted him. She shoved her bag away and leaned forward, swiveling her hips in a slow, sexy motion that no doubt caused his eyes to cross, and before she knew it, he was ripping her yoga pants down to expose her ass for his view. She closed her eyes and braced herself on the bed, inhaling sharply when she felt the insistent press of his cock against her folds. Boston was insatiable but as she’d discovered, so was she. They’d had sex this morning but it was never enough. They were two fiery balls of need that threatened to engulf them both in a red-hot pit of sexual excitement. The minute he slid into her, she shuddered and her nipples pebbled as the wondrous sensation of being utterly filled rocked her world. She reveled in the feeling that she was being stretched to the point of pain, knowing that he was impaling her on his cock like a piece of meat on a spit. The things they did together were altogether dirty and fabulous and for every time he pissed her off, there was an equal moment when he left her shaking, gasping, and buffeted by intense pleasure. There were moments when he held her so in thrall that she would’ve agreed to anything and everything as long as he kept pleasuring her. Lord, at her heart she was a voracious slut.
And he seemed to love that about her.
“So sweet, so good,” he moaned as he buried himself inside her. His grip nearly bruised her tender skin but she was too fevered to notice. She arched, giving him deeper access and sucked in a tight breath as the head of his cock rubbed against her G spot. “God, Julianna…I can’t get enough of you,” he said, pounding into her with a ferocity that rocked her body but she loved the strength and the damn near viciousness of his thrusts. Suddenly, he grabbed a handful of her hair and wrenched her head back as he continued to fuck her hard. She cried out but the quick spark of pain ratcheted her pleasure to a new level and she moaned deep in her throat. “That’s it, baby, take that cock like a good slut,” he said and she shuddered as the first wave of tingling sensation began to build. She loved when he talked dirty to her. She’d never admit it when they weren’t having sex but good heavens, she loved hearing him call her all sorts of names that would make her see red any other time. Slut, whore, bitch…they all worked. Because when she had a cock in her pussy, it was all good. If he dared to call her those things when their clothes were on, she’d hit him in a tender spot. And just like that, her legs began to tremble and an orgasm roared through her body, clenching every muscle in delicious concert with the waves of pleasure cascading through her loins. Seconds later, Boston followed, filling her channel with his cream until she was dripping with his fluid. He gave her a few final pumps as the head of his cock pulsed inside her and then stumbled away with a rattled sigh, saying breathlessly, “Holy shit…I think you’re going to kill me,” as he sank into a large chair by the window. His spent cock lay limply against his thigh, glistening, as it slowly returned to its flaccid state. “Want to know where we’re going?” he asked when he’d caught his breath.
