Chapter Ten
“Lara,” Zaine said, “how have you been?”
The tall, slim woman with short blonde hair offered him her hand. “Zaine, I’m so glad you came all this way to help with our fundraiser,” she said. Lara had residences both in California and Hawaii, and often threw parties in both states to promote causes and raise money for them.
“Thank you. It was an honor to donate to such a good foundation,” he said, remembering the fat check he’d made to the AIDS group she sponsored. “Have you met my friend Monique Drummond? She’s very passionate about causes herself.” Friend. Why had he used that word? If he had said girlfriend, that’d put pressure on him once Monique left. Besides, he didn’t need to sound unprofessional. His heart squeezed and he reached for his collar, trying to discreetly loosen it.
Lara glanced in Monique’s direction, and if she was surprised by her presence, she didn’t show it. With a smile, she stretched out her hand. “Nice to meet you, Monique. What kind of charity work are you involved with?”
“Pleased to meet you.” Monique shook her hand, and he didn’t detect any nervousness in her voice or straight posture. Good. He’d hate for her to get worked up over nothing. Not every wealthy person was a jerk.
“I help in a different capacity. I’m arranging to work with children in impoverished African communities.”
“That’s delightful. What’s your company called?”
Monique waved her off. “Oh. I don’t have a company. I’ll be teaching them.”
Lara stared at her in silence for a beat or two, probably trying to get over her mini faux pas, then nodded. “Very nice. It’s good you’re so passionate about it. You’re so hands-on.” Lara then shifted her attention to Zaine. “Children are definitely a worthy cause. As you know, Zaine, I’m behind the project for a new children’s hospital just outside LA that should open in a few years. It’s still in the early stages.”
He cleared his throat. “Yes, of course. I’d actually love to talk to you more about it. It’s one of the causes that speaks to me as well, and I hear you haven’t hired an architect yet,” he said, making an effort to sound nonchalant.
“No, not yet. Listen, why don’t we meet for lunch tomorrow? I’ll have my assistant figure out the time and contact you. We can go over some of your ideas.”
YES. He fist-pumped internally. If he got a chance to have a one-on-one with her, he’d no doubt achieve his goal. After all, he was damn good at what he did—clients booked him years in advance. “I’d love that, thanks.”
“Looking forward to it.”
She sauntered to talk to the couple the next table over, and he mentally high-fived himself.
“Seems like you got what you wanted,” Monique said next to him.
“Lunch is a good start. Puts me in the mood for celebrating,” he said, kissing her ear. He felt her quiver under his touch, and his insides sizzled in response.
…
Monique flushed the toilet, then grabbed her bag. She was about to leave the stall when the main door opened and she heard a woman saying, “Have you seen the tramp Zaine brought?”
Her blood cooled, and she froze on the spot. Old fears clawed their way into her, paralyzing her for a moment.
“He actually had the audacity to bring her to my party,” the other woman said, and Monique willed herself to move, without making a sound, to see who spoke through the small opening between the latch and the lock.
Lara.
The woman who’d make the big decisions about Zaine’s proposal. Shit.
Red-hot anger flowed in her veins, but Monique didn’t make a peep. She remained rooted to the marble floor, overwhelmed by their voices and chuckles. Why were they so mean? She knew about Paula’s credit card debts that amounted to hundreds of thousands of dollars, but Monique had never told a soul. If she wanted to dig her way into bankruptcy, that was her problem. Monique doubted even her husband knew.
“I mean, I get it. He’s separated and wants to feel good about himself, then went for a younger woman. But why bring her to this event?” Lara said.
The other woman snickered. “She’s probably good in bed.”
“Really, Sophie, don’t you have any filter?” she asked, and produced a nude-colored lipstick from her small clutch and re-applied it, focused on the task, looking at her reflection in the mirror.
“I’m just saying… French women aren’t known for only their slim bodies. She obviously does things to hook him.”
“Zaine’s a smart guy. I like him. I heard from Paula Benton that his wife ended the marriage, and he was so heartbroken. This young woman is probably some rebound romance,” Lara said matter-of-factly. “Nice looking, but let’s face it, it’ll never work out.”
Monique covered her mouth, wrestling to remain calm and collected. Their words stung, and a hot sensation that had nothing do with sex or attraction moved through her, like she was about to part with the delicious canapés she’d just eaten.
Rebound romance.
Could she even deny it? He’d been honest from the start, and she’d agreed to it, receiving the money he so generously offered. Now… She rested her head against the metal door, closing her eyes and hoping to find her ground. Why did it matter now?
“She won’t last long,” Sophie said.
“Do they ever?”
They chuckled and left together.
Only when the door closed did Monique leave her stall, slamming the door behind her. She turned on the tap, running cold water on her hands and blinking back the tears burning in the corners of her eyes.
No. If she cried, that’d ruin her makeup, and Zaine would suspect something when he saw her with puffy red eyes. I can’t tell him about this. Just a little while ago, he’d been over the moon about nailing a lunch meeting with Lara. In a matter of time, Monique would be out of his life, but his career, the memory of his brother, would last forever.
She took a couple of deep breaths, sucking air then letting it out, working on relaxing. Right now, she had to forget about her pride and pretend she hadn’t heard anything. If she caused a rift between Zaine and Lara, she wouldn’t forgive herself.
She walked out of the restroom, determined to not let what she’d overheard ruin her evening. She’d sob after the affair ended, but until then, she’d enjoy every remaining part of it.
“Alone at last,” he said, closing the door behind them.
She removed her shoes and put them by the sofa. The suite was ginormous, with a nice living area and tall French doors that led to the small but quaint terrace overlooking the ocean. The full moon cast shadows over the carpet.
He shortened the gap between them with a few steps and pulled her into his arms. She tugged at his tie, creasing his suit, not caring for a second about anything other than keeping him close.
“Everyone was impressed tonight,” he whispered in her ear.
She wanted to shout she doubted that a whole lot based on what had happened in the bathroom, not that she cared as far as her life was concerned. She jerked back to look at him and saw pride flickering in his eyes, and decided to stay quiet. Man, he believed his words—and he cared about what people thought of her, obviously.
“The only thing I care about is how you feel about me,” she said.
“You impress me in every possible way,” he said, removing his jacket and tossing it on a chair behind them. “You’re one of the most genuine women I’ve ever met, and certainly the hottest.”
A jolt of arousal bolted through her. She dove back into his embrace, fumbling to open the buttons of his shirt. Mon Dieu. He lowered his lips to hers, and she opened her mouth to welcome his tongue. The contact brought a sizzling need down her body, arrowing all the way down to her clit, making it swell and throb.
She made quick work of removing his shirt and squeezed his shoulders, feeling them tighten under her touch. Oh, how she loved his amazingly strong, undeniable maleness, the hard ridges of his body, the way his taut muscles shifted as he moved. As a child, she’d visited museums, many of them during their highly discounted or free days. She’d seen statues of powerful men made immortal by world-renowned sculptors, and shit, none of them held a candle to Zaine Cavanaugh.
“I saw the lube in your makeup bag,” he said, an edge in his voice. “Do you want to continue our exploration?”
She chuckled. “I didn’t know you searched my bag.”
“Didn’t mean to. It was half open, and I couldn’t find the toothpaste this morning.”
She kissed his thick neck. “Suuuuure.”
He swatted her ass, and even through the fabric, the warmth of his hand seeped through her skin. Her nipples hardened instantly, as if they’d been pinched. A moan flew from her lips and she leaned into him for support.
“Bringing the lube was supposed to be a surprise and I won’t be talked into using it until I’m ready.”
“Fair enough,” he said, kneading her ass, driving her insane with desire. “I’ll look forward to it. Does the surprise include using this?” he asked, squeezing her ass cheek then pulling her close, his hard-on rubbing her belly.
She gasped, air dissipating from her lungs. She inhaled a shallow breath, the idea of his cock penetrating her ass turning her on, making her pussy hot and wet. “It might. If you’re up for it, of course,” she said, sliding her hand down to his chest, caressing the hair dusting it, then tugging on it until his groan sliced the air. “You need to earn ass fucking.”
“Wouldn’t do it otherwise.” He nipped on her earlobe, causing a million nerve endings to sizzle with an awareness that flowed from the top of her head all the way to her toes. She squirmed, rubbing herself on him, so eager for more. Eager for him.
When he withdrew, she moaned in protest, physical pain replacing the warmth and hotness he evoked. He grinned, probably knowing what he did to her, and she was too turned on to save face. She needed him to fuck her, to feel his big dick filling her until he could no longer breathe.
She reached for the back of her gown to undo the zipper, and he watched her, fire burning in his eyes. He had never looked so focused—the muscle in his jaw pulsed, his lips thinned into a closed smile. She could feel the tension radiating from him, like a wild beast who’d found its next meal.
And she wanted to be his meal. Now and forever.
Forever? Her heart hammered in her chest. The word rang in her ear, but she shook it off. Sex did crazy things, and this was one of them—maddening confusion.
When the gown pooled at her feet, he led her to the balcony. Tall brushes covered each side, giving them some privacy as the enormous moon and the endless ocean greeted them. Besides the hotel lights twinkling below, the night was dark, seductive, and filled with promise.
“Hold on to the edge,” he demanded, pointing at the half wall.
Naked except for her red lace underwear, she nodded. The air whispered on her like a kiss, causing goose bumps to rise on her arms and legs. She contracted her stomach. This is crazy. And good. So, so good.
She splayed her hands on the surface, and he thrust his fingers into her hair, tugging at it until she exposed her neck. He licked her earlobe, the tip of his tongue tracing along her sensitive flesh. She felt wetness coating her folds, her thighs getting sticky.
She tried to move away, but he pulled her hair a bit, causing another wave of excitement to zip through her. “What are you doing?” she asked, knowing full well he used their strong pull toward each other in all sorts of naughty ways.
“I’m earning that ass fucking.”
“It won’t happen tonight.”
“That’s what makes it so much fun.”
He nipped at her ear, and she moaned, not giving a fuck if anyone heard her. Besides sounds from far away, she didn’t hear anything from the adjoining rooms. His upgraded suite must allow them some kind of extra privacy other guests didn’t have.
With his other hand, he touched the side of her body, moving into her panties fast. She bucked into him, and just then realized how long she’d been waiting for his intimate touch. He thrust three fingers into her pussy without any foreplay, and she bit hard on her lip, loving how well he knew her.
“Damn, you’re soaking wet.”
She took her hands off the wall and reached behind her, desperate to touch his cock, already feeling it pulsating against her underwear. Somewhere along the way, he must have lost his pants and boxer briefs.
He pinched her clit, and a shot of pleasure claimed her. “Hands on the wall, otherwise I’ll stop.”
“That’s not fair,” she said.
“You want to come, don’t you?”
Like her life depended on it. “Yes.”
“So be a good girl and put your hands where I told you.”
“What if I’m a bad girl?” she asked, rolling her hips so they teased his cock.
He smacked her ass, harder than the first time, and she almost jumped in surprise. “You’re already a bad girl. But I’m showing you how to be good.”
Good is overrated.
He placed her hands on the half wall again. “Be good for me, baby. Trust me, you’ll love the outcome.”
“Fine,” she said, and placed both hands on their original spot. Her body trembled, and he began to thrust his fingers deeper into her, curling them on her G-spot as his mouth sank in the curve of her neck and nipped it.
Not being able to touch him added to the frustration, but also… She closed her eyes, the liberation from letting him do all the work dawning on her. He teased her clit with his thumb, while his fingers explored her folds, played with them, then plunged into her cunt so deep she could no longer hold it.
She let out a small growl, a sound so raw and primitive it could belong to a wild animal. She rocked her sex into his fingers, riding his hand, as currents of pleasure rode her, claimed her, possessed her.
When she stopped trembling, her hands still on the rough surface, he kissed the top of her head.
“You may take them off now.”
She exhaled loudly, flexing and un-flexing her fingers. Her wrists cramped a bit, but she’d do it all over again. She’d trusted him and he’d been right. What else could he be right about?
“Wanna know the best part? This is only the beginning.”