Insatiable (Unrated! Book 6) Page 11

  “Soft or hard?” she whispered.

  “Both. Soft, at first. Then harder. Faster.”

  She was panting, he could hear her breaths. “And?”

  “And I couldn’t help myself. I came all over your panties, wishing with every bone in my body that it was you instead.”

  Viv didn’t wait to tell him he’d pleased her by admitting the down-and-dirty truth. She showed him. Without any further warning, she bent over him, nudging his pants farther open, and slid her tongue all the way up the long ridge of his cock.

  Damien groaned, threw his head back and gave himself over to her. Her tongue was the second closest thing to heaven, and as she kissed and sucked him, he was unable to stop himself from slowly thrusting up toward her greedy mouth.

  She took what he gave her, making love to him with lips, tongue, hands. The interior of the car got hot and steamy.

  More than anything, he wanted to pluck her off the floor, yank her onto his lap and impale her. But she wouldn’t let him. When he tried to pull her up, she shook off his hand, determined to bring him all the way home.

  It didn’t take long. When the waves of pulsing pleasure began to roar through him, signaling his release, he tried to push her mouth away. She wouldn’t, however, let go and sucked deeper, taking everything he had to give and swallowing it down. Damien could only sit there, sliding his fingers through her hair, trying to regain his breath, watching as she finally withdrew and looked up at him, a smile on her beautiful face.

  “That was...”

  “That was number one,” she told him, the words nearly purred. “And I believe the goal is twelve?”

  Twelve. Damn. Easier for her to say than for a guy.

  But he was game to try. As long as Viv wanted to play, he’d do his damndest to keep up with her.

  7

  ALTHOUGH THE UPSCALE restaurant in the lobby of the Arlington Black Star Hotel was famous for its Sunday brunch, Viv was quite content to savor another room service meal in the penthouse.

  Unlike last week, there was no rush. Damien didn’t have to hurry out for a day of meetings and Viv wasn’t wallowing in the misery of public humiliation. In fact, the two of them had completely forgotten about anyone and anything else the minute they’d gotten in his car outside the restaurant Friday night. Well, except for Jed. The driver had been remarkably discreet and friendly, accepting her thanks for working on her car, but refusing the compensation she’d offered.

  Other than him, though, they hadn’t exchanged more than a dozen words with anyone, which was fine with Viv. Because the past thirty-six hours had been remarkable. And not just because of the intense, utterly unbelievable sex. The truth was, she’d just enjoyed being with him.

  Washington, DC, was a great city to explore if you had the time and a willing victim...er, tourist. Damien had said he’d come to the area for business on multiple occasions, but he’d never been to a single one of the museums. He’d never walked up the steps of the Lincoln Memorial, or read the names on the beautiful onyx wall that memorialized those who’d fallen in Vietnam.

  Having a car and driver made things so much simpler, and they’d managed to shove a week’s worth of sightseeing into one day. They’d hit everything from the monuments, to the National Zoo, to the Smithsonian, finishing up at Viv’s favorite, the National Museum of Natural History, for a peek at the Hope Diamond.

  “I’ve seen nicer,” he’d mused, staring at the stone through a thick wall of security glass.

  “Maybe. But not bigger, I’ll bet.”

  He’d never taken his eyes off the rock. “I thought women didn’t care about size.”

  Viv had snickered. Of all the things Damien the billionaire might have to worry about, size was not one of them. “Of course we don’t...except when it comes to diamonds. Oh, and penises.”

  He’d reached around and pinched her butt to punish her, and she’d emitted a squeal that had echoed through the gallery. They hadn’t stayed long at the museum after that, taking a walk along the reflecting pool before Jed picked them up and took them across the river into Virginia.

  It was there they’d had the only unpleasant moment of the day. They’d been walking down a cobbled sidewalk, coming from an adorable French restaurant where they’d enjoyed dinner, and she’d spied a campaign sign with a familiar name on it. Damien had apparently felt her tense up, and asked what was wrong.

  “Just a goose walking over my grave.”

  He frowned. “Huh?”

  “Sorry, aren’t you from the South? Don’t they use that expression in Florida?”

  “We say it all the time when we travel back to the 1940s.”

  Giggling, aware he was trying to lighten her suddenly dark mood, she’d admitted, “I used to go out with that guy. The one running for delegate.”

  His turn to tense. “And?”

  “And nothing. It’s not fun seeing his name everywhere.”

  Even worse was seeing his face on the damn signs. Dale was nothing if not proud of his looks, and his dumb, smiling mug was used as a selling point in all his promotional materials.

  She couldn’t help comparing him to Damien, and her ex paled in every way. Damien was far hotter, smarter, more charming, more successful. But he was not at all in-your-face about it. He never had to make himself seem bigger or more important at anyone else’s—her—expense. And, funny, since the moment she’d met him, Viv had never worried she wasn’t good enough, like she had to be on her best behavior for fear of doing or saying the wrong thing. With Damien, she was free to be herself, and was never pressured to be any other way.

  What a wonderful, amazing thing. It was a gift Damien had given her that he didn’t even realize, was one she already cherished.

  “More champagne?” he asked, lifting an icy bottle from a bucket, bringing her thoughts forward from last night into the bright light of Sunday morning.

  Viv looked up from her plate, which she’d just cleaned of not only a delicious serving of eggs Benedict but also half a Belgian waffle, and nodded happily. She watched as Damien splashed the sparkling liquid into her glass of orange juice, then she accepted the glass and stretched in her chair. “I could get used to this,” she murmured, staring out over the river through the bank of floor-to-ceiling windows that spanned the penthouse dining room. From up here, she had an unobstructed view of the Capitol dome, the Washington Monument, all the beautiful structures people around the world only ever saw in books.

  The breakfast, the view, the champagne, the softness of the robe, the closetful of clothes he’d insisted he couldn’t return...all of it suddenly became a bit much for Viv. Because she could get used to this, all too easily. And that was not a good thing. At the end of the day—or the week, the month, whatever—Damien would be heading for Miami. To his real life. She’d be staying here and going on with hers.

  High-rises, penthouses, limo rides, designer clothes and two-hundred-dollar bottles of champagne had no place in her life. While she, with her sassy mouth, her bad reputation, her snarky attitude, her blue-collar family and her entry-level job, had no real place in his. Despite how wonderful he made her feel about just being herself, she knew that was true. He might like her as she was, might make her feel comfortable enough to be totally herself around him, but to the rest of the world, she would never be good enough.

  A feeling of melancholy suddenly washed over her. She’d managed to keep all those worries at bay for the past day and a half. Now, knowing he’d meant to leave yesterday, and could probably only postpone his trip home for a few more days, she began to realize her tactical error. In taking all the wicked, spoiled, exotic moments she could with him, had she simply opened a window in her mind to miss him all the more when she returned to the real world? Her world?

  “Finished?”

  Nodding, she rose from the table and w
alked over to the couch. She sat down, continuing to stare outside, suddenly unsure of what to say, how to behave. She was aware she was being was ridiculous, considering the amazing intimacies they’d shared throughout the weekend. It might have taken her longer than just Friday night, but Damien had definitely hit twelve and kept right on going. As for Viv? Well, she’d stopped keeping count.

  So why was this suddenly so awkward?

  “What’s on your mind?”

  “Nothing.”

  He walked over to stand behind her, dropping his hands onto her shoulders, gently kneading them. Viv sighed with pleasure, tilting her head to the side to give him better access. If there was a man on the planet who was more skilled with his hands, she’d like to meet him. Or, no, she wouldn’t. She was quite happy with this one...at least, for as long as she had him.

  “Tell me what you’re thinking.”

  “Nothing, really.”

  “Is it that guy?”

  “What guy?”

  “The one with the big chin—on the campaign sign.”

  She barked a harsh laugh. “No, Dale was definitely not on my mind. I can’t imagine why he’d be on yours.”

  “Because of the way you tensed up last night. The hint of hurt in your voice when you talked about him.”

  “I’m not hurt anymore. Maybe just my pride.”

  Damien sat down, pulling her close and draping an arm over her shoulders. “How long ago did you break up?”

  “I said he wasn’t on my mind.”

  He shrugged. “But I admitted he’s on mine. So humor me.”

  “It’s no big deal. We dated for four months last spring.”

  “That doesn’t sound like ‘no big deal.’”

  She kept her tone light, not wanting him to realize how badly she’d been hurt by the affair.

  “What can I say? Lulu and Chaz had just gotten engaged, Amelia was head over heels for Lex. I guess I saw my two best friends with great guys, and suddenly wanted that for myself. So I made myself believe I felt something I didn’t really feel.”

  “So you weren’t in love with him.”

  “No,” she said, meaning it. Even if she hadn’t realized it at the time. Looking back, though, she understood she hadn’t been.

  “But you were in love with the idea of being in love?”

  “I suppose. I made myself believe it, anyway.”

  “And him? Did he love the idea of being in love with you?”

  She couldn’t contain a snort. “Definitely not. He loved the idea of me using my marketing skills to help his campaign.”

  “God, please tell me you weren’t responsible for putting that chin on those signs.”

  That brought a giggle from her lips. He was already making her feel better. Laughing about what had happened with Dale had been something she envisioned in the distant future. As in years from now. She’d been too raw and humiliated to laugh before now. Before Damien.

  “No, but I did organize a lot of the early stuff. Enough to get him the nomination.”

  Damien had taken a strand of her hair between his fingers and was toying with it. The brush of his skin on her neck was a gentle connection, one that silently urged her to continue.

  “Once he had the nomination, though, he decided having someone like me on his arm wouldn’t win him votes in the general election. The Virginia state government isn’t the extent of his ambitions—he intends to cross the river and sit inside that national dome someday.”

  She wouldn’t have even known Damien had reacted to her words if not for the tiniest pull on her hair. She turned to see his hand had clenched. “What do you mean, someone like you?”

  She didn’t want to rehash the ugly conversation, so she simply replied, “I’m not politician’s-wife material.”

  “Are you kidding? Men would vote for him just to shake your hand.”

  “He needed more than just the male vote,” she said, her tone dry. “Although you might not have noticed, since we were with my two best friends the other night, a lot of women don’t approve of me.”

  “They’re jealous.”

  “Maybe, but Dale feared the older, more proper voters wouldn’t, either.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with you. Being sexy isn’t a crime.”

  “Being in-your-face about it is, according to Dale. Apparently, I’m the kind of woman men want to fuck, but definitely not the one they take home to Mama.”

  He muttered a curse, and then drew her close, holding her tightly in his arms. “I officially hate that son of a bitch.”

  “He’s a politician. I was aware of what I was getting into. But I didn’t know how to not be the blunt, slightly outrageous person I’ve always been.” Frowning, she added, “I sure gave it my best shot at work, though. I played the good-girl role as if I’d invented it.”

  “To prove him wrong after the breakup?”

  “You already have me figured out, don’t you?”

  “Getting there.” He traced the tips of his fingers across her jaw. “Can I admit, I’ve never been a fan of good girls?”

  “Lucky for me.”

  “No,” he whispered, “lucky for me. I like you just the way you are. Good and bad. Sweet and oh, so spicy.”

  He leaned over and kissed her, his lips soft, warm. Sitting here in the sunshine, in his arms, sharing a kiss, she could almost forget there’d ever been any darkness in her life.

  When they drew apart, he said, “I’m going to need an hour at my desk this afternoon. Do I have to tie you up to make sure you don’t leave?”

  Her eyes glittered. “If you tie me up, you’d better stay with me to make it worth my while.”

  He swallowed hard. Viv had never tried bondage, being far too strong to submit to anyone. But with him, well, she suspected Damien could make her love it. She was already putty in his hands—being forced to stay still and take whatever pleasure he chose to give her sounded like a perfect way to spend the day.

  “Is that an invitation?”

  “I thought you had work to do.”

  “It won’t take long,” he said. “I just have to quickly set up a Super PAC and donate a shit-ton of money to you-know-who’s opponent.”

  A merry peal of laughter escaped her mouth.

  “You think I’m kidding?”

  “Of course.”

  “Baby, I’d buy an election to screw over the guy who hurt you in a heartbeat.”

  “That’s one of the sweetest things anyone’s ever said to me,” she said, still amused. “But it’s not necessary. I’ve become a believer in karma—sometimes things work out the way they’re supposed to, and people get what they deserve.”

  She, herself, was a prime example. She’d reacted pretty maturely to last week’s work fiasco, and everything had worked out all right. She had to believe that somewhere down the road, Dale would get what was coming to him, too.

  “If you really want to stop me, you’re going to have to focus my mind on something else,” he said, nuzzling her neck.

  “Such as?”

  “Maybe how gorgeous you’d look wearing nothing but the sunshine spilling in that window?”

  She pointed. “That sunshine?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  Rising, she walked across the plush carpet and tapped a nail on the glass. “This window?”

  “Yep.”

  “I could do that.”

  Moving slowly, she turned her back to him, focusing on the blue sky right outside. She breathed deeply as she untied the sash at her waist. Dipping her shoulder, she let the thick, plush robe glide down one arm, and then the other. She didn’t need to see or hear Damien to know he was watching her every move.

  She felt powerful, a completely sexual being. Bringing up all that old darkn
ess of her last relationship had actually made her realize something. She’d been playing good for so long—trying to please her ex, and then her employer. But there was something freeing in being bad, in giving in to her deepest, darkest urges. Damien aroused feelings in her she’d never experienced before, and while she had him in her life, she wanted to act on every single one of them. Even if they were wicked. Even if they made her the bad girl, the temptress, the vixen.

  He liked the vixen. And screw it, so did she.

  The robe fell with a whoosh to puddle at her feet, and she lifted both hands, pressing them flat against the glass window. Closing her eyes, she tilted her head back, letting the warmth of the morning bathe her skin. In the space of two breaths, she felt the heat of his body behind her.

  “Are you distracted?”

  “From what? I can’t remember a thing except how much I want you,” he mumbled, lifting her hair so he could place his mouth on the nape of her neck.

  He moved closer, pressing against her. He’d dropped his robe, too, and all that hot, naked strength around her made her go weak in the knees. He seemed to realize it, because he reached around to hold her, his hand low on her belly. Gripping her even more roughly against him, he let her feel his body’s reaction.

  “God, are you ever not hard?” she groaned.

  “Are you ever not wet for me?” he countered.

  “Hasn’t happened so far.”

  “Ditto.” Another brush of his mouth on her neck. “Stay still, Vivienne. Keep your hands on the glass.”

  She heard the command in his voice, but verified it anyway. “Is that an order?”

  He didn’t even hesitate. “Yes.”

  Ooh. He’d caught her mood, the craziness, the frenzy.

  “Will you punish me if I disobey?”

  No hesitation this time, either. “Yes.” He licked her earlobe, breathing into her ear. “But I promise I’ll hurt you in ways you enjoy.”

  The strength seeped from her legs. She was glad for the support of the window, and for his arm around her waist.

  “Trust me,” he urged.