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"He, ah, left earlier to get some early morning shots," I lie. He left last night after our argument, when I accused him of not being completely there when we made love. I couldn’t really call it making love. More like, fucking? No, not even that. He penetrated. I faked an orgasm. The usual.
"Trouble in paradise?" JJ drawls.
"None of your business," I shoot back.
"You’re wrong. Everything about you is my business."
"I don’t know what you—"
"Open your mouth," he growls.
"Excuse me?"
"Open. Your. Mouth. Lena."
I do.
The next second, he takes a sip from the cup, then leans over and dribbles it into my mouth. My gaze widens. My stomach clenches. An insidious heat flares to life between my legs. I hold those dark, fathomless eyes of his as the liquid pools on my tongue. His gaze deepens further.
"Swallow." He lowers his voice to a hush, and my pulse rate rockets through the roof.
I close my mouth, do as he commands. The thick taste of him combined with the aromatic notes of the coffee is an aphrodisiac that leaves flashbulbs of desire popping in its wake. He lowers his gaze to my mouth, and I realize my lips are parted, waiting… Waiting for him to take another sip, swill the coffee in his mouth and dribble the now lukewarm liquid onto my waiting tongue. I close my mouth, swallow, then part my lips a third time. He inhales sharply and his chest planes swell until I’m sure he’s going to burst out of the seams of his jacket. He places the cup on the table, then lowers his mouth until his lips are poised over mine. His hot breath sears my cheek. Goosebumps pop on my skin.
"I heard you last night. Heard you as you moaned for him. Heard you as you opened your thighs for him."
I gasp. "Wha—"
He pinches my chin so I can’t speak. I try to pull away, and he grips my shoulders, holding me in place.
"It made me want to walk in there, turn you on your front, pull you up to your hands and knees, and fuck you until you screamedmyname. If it had been me, you wouldn’t have been able to walk this morning. You wouldn’t be able to speak, except to ask for my cock. You wouldn’t be able to sit down—I’d have reamed your arse and made you come on my dick so many times, you’d still be floating down from the endorphins saturating your bloodstream... Until you’ve forgotten everything except the shape of my face, the feel of my shaft inside you, the essence of me coursing through your veins as your heart opens to the only man who’ll ever be able to satisfy you again."
My entire body seems to detonate into a million little flames. Sweat beads my brow. I draw in a breath and my lungs burn. My toes curl. "JJ, what are you—"
"Iamgoing to have you, girl."
30
JJ
Going to have you. Going. To. Have. You. Goingtohave—
"Check!"
"Eh?" I glance down to find my queen exposed. "What the fuck?"
"Your mind’s many miles away. Maybe it’s with a certain young, dark-haired girl?" Liam drawls.
There’s only the two of us at this table on the main floor of the 7A club in Mayfair.
Turns out, Sinclair Sterling had seen enough potential in my venture to buy 49% of the club. He wanted 51%, but I refused. He settled for 49% with the stipulation that the club be named after the investment company he and his six partners ran. Who was I to argue with that? He’d paid enough to have the venture turn profitable from day one. He also wanted each of the Seven to have veto powers on who to approve to the club, but that was fine by me. The club was going to pay in dividends many times over if the interest levels among those who had been invited to join was anything to go by. So far one of the biggest rock legends, a leading paleontologist, and a Pulitzer Prize winning war journalist had already agreed to be part of the fraternity. If they came to the club’s premises even once in the next three hundred and sixty-five days, it would benefit every single one of the core board of members. So, this startup had matured straight out of the gate. Which couldn’t be said about my current chess game.
"Shut your trap," I say blandly. I move my knight into position, then smirk. "Checkmate, motherfucker."
It’s Liam’s turn to scowl. He glares at the chessboard. The seconds tick by then he tips his king over. He holds out his hand and I shake it.
"Well recovered," he says mildly.
So, I haven’t lost my balls completely. "It was close," I concede, then reach for my cigar and offer him one. "How’re the wedding plans coming along?"
