Scarlet’s insides blazed brighter. She was already incinerating from the hotter than hell man staring so deeply into her eyes and the sensational orgasms he’d given her. Michael’s hunky body between her legs made every inch of her sizzle even more.
She released the strands of his hair that she’d probably yanked on too firmly when she’d come, but he didn’t seem to mind. She fisted the material at his nape and pulled, dragging his shirt over his head, breaking their eye contact for only a brief second. Tossing aside the garment, she ran both hands along his sinewy forearms and up to his bulging biceps. He was magnificently built, all sculpted muscles and smooth, tanned skin.
Her hands continued to roam, up to his broad shoulders, then down the front of him. He had a solid, well-defined pectoral ledge that her fingers grazed, her nails gently rasping his small, pebbled nipples.
His teeth ground. She was testing his restraint. She could see it in his smoldering gaze. Could feel it in the intensity that radiated from him.
She kept up her exploration, loving the way his body tensed as her fingertips skimmed his cut abs, heading south. When she reached the buckle on his belt, he let out a harsh grunt that was additional confirmation she was pushing him right to the edge.
Exhilaration trilled down her spine. Her pussy ached in anticipation of being filled and stretched by him. She felt the moisture ooze from her opening along her cleft. No one had ever made her so wet.
She deftly unfastened him and shoved his briefs and jeans over his hips. She tore her gaze from Michael’s and it landed on his cock. Thick and wide and mouthwatering.
The sudden desire to suck him to completion gripped her. She wanted his shaft against her tongue, his tip stroking the back of her throat before he lost it and came in her mouth.
But the desperate need to have him deep inside her overrode the fantasy. Her fingers encircled his base and she pumped slowly. Hunger flashed in his smoky eyes.
She told him, “Photos in the Wall Street Journal don’t capture your animal magnetism. That can only fully be experienced in person.”
His lips brushed over hers and he murmured, “Then let me give you the full, in-person experience.”
Her stomach flipped. “Thank you for not making me beg.”
He pried her fingers from his dick. “You almost have me begging.”
Michael’s blatant, engaging look sent liquid fire through her. He pressed her legs wider apart with his palms on her inner thighs and his thick shaft glided along her folds, back and forth. Taunting her. He eased slightly back and his tip rubbed against her clit. He leaned into her and his cock slid along her slick flesh, his balls grazing her cleft and anus.
The man was a master at building the sexual tension and intensifying the dark cravings he’d sparked from the onset.
“Okay, now I’m begging,” she said in a strained tone. “You want to be inside me, don’t you?”
“Ah, fuck, yes.”
He curved his arm under one of her bent legs and lifted it off the desk, slinging her boot-clad calf over his shoulder as he leaned close to her again and his cockhead penetrated her, sending high-voltage bolts through her body.
“Oh, God!” Her head flew back on her shoulders.
“Don’t squeeze,” Michael hissed out. “I already know how tight you are. And I’m two seconds away from ending this party if you’re any tighter.”
She tried to relax her inner muscles. But they involuntarily sought something that had been elusive for so very, very long. Too damn long.
As much as she wanted to plead with Michael to stop playing and get down to business, she could see he was hanging on by a thin thread. She’d gotten him all worked up at the club, had felt his erection the entire time. So she had no doubt the scorching sensations were about to burst wide open for him as much as for her.
Scarlet laid back against the desk, sprawling across it. Raising her arms over her head, she clasped the far edge.
“Now that’s a hell of a sight,” he said. And thrust into her, pushing all the air from her lungs on a wild scream.
He didn’t give her even a moment to assimilate to his girth, stretching her taut. His hips bucked and he fucked her assertively. Exactly what she wanted. But good Lord … He was huge inside her and plunging deep, fast. Jarring her body, making her grip the ledge more firmly.
He slid his free arm under her at her lower back and her spine bowed so that her head and shoulders were the only part of her touching the glass top as her ass lifted off the surface and her other leg wrapped around his waist.
“Yes,” she sobbed. “Oh, God, yes. Michael!” He pounded into her and it was everything she needed. Everything she’d longed for as her best friends were hooking up with amazingly satisfying men and all Scarlet had was her work.
She’d ached for this sort of fulfillment—the dirtier the better at this point, because her hormones were raging. More than ever since she’d met Michael.
He seemed to innately know how to please her, how to rock her to the core of her being.
The way he angled her hips into his thrusts allowed him to push farther into her. So incredibly deep. His pelvis both ground and pumped, so he was stimulating every bit of her pussy, inside and out. His heat surrounded her. His muscles brushed against her flushed skin, keeping her fully connected to him. Scarlet was about to crash head-on into another earth-shattering orgasm.
“Christ, you’re exciting to watch as I fuck you,” he told her.
She might be sore for a week, but it’d be that kind of sinfully delicious soreness that reminded her she’d had a fantastically built man between her thighs who’d made her burn from head to toe and inspired the naughtiest words to tumble from her slightly parted lips.
She really did beg for it. For more.
He incited primal reactions and carnal demands. As sensational as it felt to have him take her with such abandon, she needed to come again. It was too fiery, too intense, to hold on to.
“Fuck me,” she insisted. “Harder. Oh, God, Michael. Fuck my pussy. Make me come.”
Her fingers uncoiled from the ledge. One of her palms flattened on the desk at her hip. The other gripped his forearm as it was locked around her leg that was draped over his shoulder. She used the leverage to pull him closer to her, rolled her hips with his enticing erratic movements, and felt all the insanity and electricity arcing between them and humming through her coalesce and erupt.
She cried his name as the orgasm slammed into her. Little white and gold orbs burst behind her closed lids. Every fiber of her being ignited. And just when she thought she couldn’t lose herself any further in the moment, he thrust into her once more, his body convulsed, and then she felt his hot seed flood her pussy.
“Yes!” she shrieked. “That is so good!”
“Scarlet!” He pushed as far as he could, his cock buried to the hilt. “Oh, fuck!” Violent shudders rocked him. His breath came in heavy pulls, every exhale caressing the inner swells of her breasts.
Scarlet kept her eyes closed, knowing they’d just dance crazily in their sockets if she opened them anyway. She fought for more than just razor-thin slices of air. She’d never been so winded before. Nor had her body ever tingled so vibrantly. From her nose to her toes and every erogenous zone in between.
She was still buzzing from the release when Michael straightened and took her by the hand. He gently hauled her up. He withdrew from her and, with a little shifting, had her legs and arms coiled around him. She was limp and boneless, but he held her tightly and carried her across the vast penthouse to his master suite. Balancing her with one hand, he yanked back the covers in the large bed and set her there. Then he worked the zipper of one boot and removed it, rolled down her black stocking, and repeated the process with the other.
“Damn sexy,” he said. “You in the boots. You out of the boots.”
His gaze roved her naked body and she didn’t miss that his cock twitched.
“Get comfortable,” he told her.
Not in a million years would she have expected Michael Vandenberg to assume she’d stay over or invite her to do so. She didn’t take him for the type to embrace afterglow cuddling. And maybe he wasn’t, so she scooted to the opposite side of the mattress while he ducked into the bathroom to tidy up.
When he joined her, he said, “We like the same side.” He climbed in behind her and she moved to accommodate him. “Don’t go too far.” His arms wound around her as he spooned her.
Scarlet’s heart skipped a beat. She wasn’t used to the wild and wicked sex; that was a given. But this soft and tender affection from the Wolf of Wall Street?
What the fuck? flashed in her head.
He held her tightly, possessively. His body curled around hers, another perfect fit.
He said, “I hadn’t realized I needed a jump start until I laid eyes on you earlier this evening. I am forever a fan of your persistence.”
Something twisted inside of Scarlet. Not necessarily in a bad way. She wiggled slightly so that he gave way to her and she turned to face him.
“Michael.” She gazed at him with little more than the flicker of the lights from the unadorned windows to faintly illuminate his steely features. “If you tell me again that you’re innocent, I’ll believe you.”
She worked off intuition, after all. And it was speaking loud and clear to her.
But she had to hear him say the words at this moment, at this point in time. Following the highly charged evening they’d had and the way he was so in tune to her needs, to her desires … She felt a connection she’d never experienced before—and trusted it heart and soul.
She just needed to hear the conviction in his tone.
He swept away strands of hair from her temple and told her, “I assure you I was exactly where I said I was when the collection was stolen. And I wouldn’t have benefited from plotting or participating in the robbery. The paintings were bought by my father, yes. But they were gifted to my stepmother. A belated wedding present, because he waited until he had all the pieces before he gave them to her. So that insurance check was handed directly to her.”
Scarlet’s brow knitted. “It was made out to him.”
“Yes, because he was the one to purchase the collection and pay the premium on it. The money was transferred into her account. Hers to do with what she pleased.”
Scarlet’s mind whirled. “Did she buy new artwork?”
“No. She claimed the paintings my father had selected for her originally meant too much for her to randomly go out and replace them.”
“She started taking art history classes at NYU after she married your father, Michael. There’d be nothing random about her selections—”
“It’s sentimentality that holds her back. How do you substitute a gift that was so thoughtfully assembled for you?”
Scarlet considered this. He had a point, of course. Yet … “I looked into her finances, too. Her net worth didn’t improve, individually. Of course, she’s linked to your father’s fortune, but where’d the insurance money go?”
Michael placed a finger over her lips. “Scarlet. You can talk about this until the sun comes up. I can’t help you. I’m sorry. I don’t know what happened to that collection. And to be damn honest with you, I don’t give a rip. Do you understand?”
“Were you jealous he’d given her such an expensive gift?” she asked around his finger. “Or that the family fortune paid for it—at about the same time your father had refused to subsidize your first business venture?”
Michael’s hand fell away. “My father insisted that whatever I did with my future from the time I turned sixteen was completely up to me. There was no access to a trust fund—not until I’m forty. Forty, Scarlet. So, yes, I had to figure out how to pay for Princeton. I had to figure out how to fund my enterprises. With no one’s help. No, I wasn’t jealous. I was too busy being resourceful.”
“But the five mil—”
“A saving grace, without doubt. It came after I’d graduated, with a student loan hanging over my head. That sugar plantation I inherited helped me to invest in my future. I’m grateful for it and that I was able to sell off a small portion. But make no mistake, Scarlet. That money did not come from criminal activity.”
He stared at her.
Scarlet could clearly see there was more to his story. A difficult push and pull between him and his father. Including a gauntlet thrown down by the senior Vandenberg indicating Michael had to work his way up the food chain in order to prove himself worthy of a chunk of the family pie?
She said, “I certainly don’t discount everything you’ve done to become the successful entrepreneur you are today. You’re a self-made man—”
“Let’s not take that notion too far,” he contended. “I was born with a silver spoon in my mouth. No hiding or disguising it. I just wasn’t handed everything on the proverbial platter that’s anticipated to follow. I did have to work for the things I wanted. Yet I obviously had advantages as well.”
With a soft smile, she said, “Big of you to admit all that. And I’m not trying to accuse you of anything. I’m trying to understand who you are. I already admire what I’ve learned to date. It’s just that I have a job to do, you know?”
“Yeah, I know.” He kissed her, then added, “My advice, however, is that you look outside the mansion walls for your culprit, not within them.”
Scarlet gave a slow nod. “There are theories.”
“I’ve heard them.”
“Not mine.”
“Whatever happened that night isn’t my responsibility or concern. Do I feel bad Karina’s paintings were stolen?” He gave a noncommittal shrug of his shoulder. “I don’t know. She came into my life at a difficult time, when I was still dealing with my mother’s death and the terms of my trust fund. We didn’t hit it off. Worse, she insinuated a son my age into the household. I wasn’t ready for that. Not at first. So I was emotionally detached.”
“Just one more question,” Scarlet ventured, sensing she was losing him to an angst that related to family matters, not art theft. “Do you still feel that way about her?”
Michael let out a long breath. Rolled onto his back. Though he brought Scarlet with him so she was tucked under his arm, against his hard body.
As his fingers absently twirled her long strands, he said, “I have a complicated relationship with my family. The turmoil dates back to childhood, so it’s not exactly Karina’s fault. I didn’t agree with how quickly my father could get over one wife in favor of a new one.”
Scarlet knew that Lindsay Vandenberg, Michael’s mother, was a cancer patient who’d died of pneumonia. She also knew that Mitcham had married Karina the same year he’d buried Lindsay. Naturally, that made Scarlet wonder if Karina had been waiting in the wings, and for how long. Had she and Mitcham secretly been involved prior to Lindsay’s illnesses? Or maybe not so secretly—had Michael known about it?
Did any of this matter?
Scarlet wasn’t sure.
So for the moment, she dropped the topic. She needed to process the entire interaction with him this evening and everything she’d discerned thus far.
Her hand splayed over his chest and her fingertips lightly stroked his warm, smooth skin. She said, “Thank you for tolerating my inquiry. I’m not trying to be invasive. I have a mind that doesn’t really shut down. Hard as I try. It can be a bit of a curse sometimes. I require constant mental stimulation. Puzzles provide that.”
“Scarlet…” He sighed. “I haven’t been avoiding you because I have something to hide. I have a hectic schedule. I travel every week. I have meeting after meeting. Every day. Well into the night. I created this world, this reality, for myself, but it can also be a double-edged sword. I have to pick and choose who I give my time to.” He was quiet for a few moments, then told her, “I’ll confess that you being so damn striking and wearing that skintight red dress this evening nabbed my attention. Yet it was so much more beyond your appearance that held it. You get me hot, yes. Especially in that black mini and the boots you changed into. But you also intrigue me. Fascinate me. Whatever. It’s impossible to deny.”
Her lips pressed to that tempting indentation at the base of his throat. Then she gazed at him. “It’s no longer a criminal case, Michael. I still have to follow every lead, though. Help the insurance company recoup any monies if that’s appropriate.”
His body stiffened. Scarlet continued to stare into his eyes.
In a tight voice, Michael explained, “The thing about Vandenbergs is that they don’t like people digging into their business. It’s sort of a centuries-old entitlement thing. We tend to think we’re above reproach. So of course we find anyone who’s purposely searching for the chinks in our armor to be … offensive.”
“I get what you’re saying.” It was a veiled warning. But one she could live with. So much so, she slipped a leg over his hunky body and straddled him. She placed her palms on his chest, and as her sex slowly glided against his rapidly thickening erection she said, “But despite my poking and prodding, I don’t think you find me the least bit offensive.”
Michael’s large hands clasped her hips. He shifted just so. Sank into her, blissfully filling her. And said, “Not in the least.”