“I’ll join them there. Please let me know when Ms. Mattlaw returns.”
“I’m certain the sound of the commotion will reach your ears before I can scurry to your location,” Jason harrumphed.
“I’m certain you’re right.” An unwilling smile tugged at his lips at the thought. “But make the attempt in any case.”
“Yes, sir.” Jason inclined his head before turning smartly and leaving the room, returning it once again to the oppressive silence which had filled it before his arrival.
You’re so depraved, Ian. I sold my soul into hell to be your woman. To what end? This is my end.
Once again, written words seared his memory.
He couldn’t control the need, the hunger. It was eating him alive, as it never had before.
He could see it, he could almost feel it.
Courtney’s sexual appetite was strong, blistering in its heat. He could see her, her eyes dazed, pleasure consuming her as her lips opened in a scream, sandwiched between him and Khalid.
The half-Saudi would complement her passions, his patience. His control would match Ian’s as they drove her past any boundary of pleasure she could have known.
He wanted to play with her. He wanted to watch her writhe on the bed, retrained, pleading, gasping for release as he and Khalid drove her past any restraint, any conscious control. He wanted, f**k, he needed—hungered—to see her reach that point where she cl**axed from not more than a breath against her clit, a lick to her nipple. Where her body was so sensitized, so aroused, so perfectly attuned to the pleasure they could bring, that when they pierced her snug channels, the orgasms would roll through her, a continual progression of release that would stroke, milk, convulse around their burrowing cocks.
The need was overshadowed only by the memory of the last woman who had loved him. It was a pleasure he had wanted her to know as well.
He hung his head, breathing in roughly as his shoulders bunched with tension.
He had taken many women to his bed, experienced women, women who sought nothing more than that peak and went eagerly, too eagerly, toward it. He had thought that would be enough. It wasn’t.
Courtney would fight it. She would beg, scream, curse his control and attempt to break it, whether she knew the end result or not. It was a part of her nature. She would never give him that part of herself without a fight, without a challenge to his dominance.
“Are you finished moping yet?”
Ian turned slowly to meet Cole’s mocking gaze.
Of all those who surrounded Ian in his day-to-day life, Cole alone knew the truth of what held Ian back. He had been there, in those horrifying days after Melissa’s death.
“You’re out of line, Cole.” His jaw clenched with anger as he read the mocking condescension in the other man’s gaze.
“Am I, Ian?” He shook his head, entering the office as he closed the door behind him. “She’s a wild woman. Maybe even more than you, with all your experience, could ever hope to tame. She’s your match. Everyone sees it but you.”
“She’s an innocent,” he breathed out roughly.
“She’s not Melissa, Ian. Melissa was broken, inside. You couldn’t have anticipated that. You couldn’t see through her lies and her games because you hadn’t known her through the bad times. You had no idea that she was less than the person she showed you. You know Courtney.”
And he knew she was as wild as the wind. That she had always been impossible to peg, or to constrain. Even as a child she had been like a whirlwind, rushing around the estate, creating havoc, drawing smiles and unrestrained laughter. From the moment she turned sixteen she had tried to tempt him. God, according to her, she had watched him.
“Maybe I don’t need to share Courtney.” He pushed back his own attempts to justify what he wanted.
Cole snorted as he threw himself into one of the leather chairs in front of the desk Ian was striding to.
“Yeah, and maybe the sun doesn’t need to rise tomorrow.” He scratched at his jaw thoughtfully. “You might not need it, but I bet she does.”
Ian’s eyes narrowed. “You’re out of the running.”
“Thank God,” Cole grunted. “Tessa’s the only wild woman I can handle. If she doesn’t f**k me into an early grave it will be a miracle.”
Ian dropped into his chair, slouching into the thickly padded back as he propped his feet on the desk and leaned his head back to stare at the ceiling morosely.
Such inaction was against his nature. He had kept his involvements at a certain level for a reason, to allow himself the full immersion of his senses into his sexuality when the opportunity arose.