He turned back to her, leaning against the counter as he regarded her quizzically. “Do you have a lover?”
His voice was whisky rough and dark. It caused arousal to zip along her nerve endings, her skin to become sensitive, needy for his touch. She hated it.
“That’s really none of your business.” She fought to stay in control. He would leave soon; she knew Jase depended on him at the corporate offices. Not that she understood any of the legal talk she had ever heard in the past, but his job, she knew, was complicated and often required late nights and full days. She was hoping that would keep him out of her hair for the most part.
“Maybe I want to make it my business.” His voice hardened imperceptibly as he watched her, his gaze brooding.
Ella couldn’t stop the surprise that she knew was reflected on her face. She blinked over at him, her chest tightening in unwanted excitement, her vagina throbbing in unwanted preparation for his touch.
“Why would you want to?” She couldn’t understand his desire for her in any way. “I’m not in the market for complications, James. A lover is, by his very nature, a complication.”
He tilted his head, his lips quirking in amusement as she raised the coffee cup to her lips.
“Don’t you ever get horny, Ella?” She nearly dropped the cup. The coffee she had just taken into her mouth threatened to choke her as it went down the wrong way.
She wheezed, her eyes widening, tearing as she stared at him in shock.
“For God’s sake,” she bit out when she could breathe again. “Is that any of your business, in any way, James?”
“Actually, it is.” He shrugged his shoulders with deceptive laziness. “I want you, Ella. I want to lay you down and touch you in all the ways a man can. I want to f**k you until you’re screaming out in agony, because it feels so damned good it hurts. So yeah.” He nodded. “It’s my business.”
The breath lodged in her throat. She felt her cunt cream, her thighs tremble at the thought of him powering into her, f**king her as she screamed. She had never screamed, never wanted anything desperately enough to beg. But she couldn’t have James. Anger, directed at herself, at him, poured through her.
She felt her face flush, her body tremble, as she fought for control.
“Sorry, James.” She smiled tightly. “I’m really not in the market for a toy boy this year. I guess you just lucked out.”
She didn’t give him time to reply. Before he could cut her down, before he could tempt her further, she swept from the room, rushing to the safety of her bedroom where her control wasn’t as important. Where it wouldn’t matter if the tears that filled her eyes escaped. All that mattered was that James didn’t know.
Chapter Four
She wouldn’t survive this. Ella escaped to her bedroom, locked the door clumsily behind her and stood against it, breathing raggedly. She was flushed, heated, her body tingling. She hated it.
Her fists clenched as she felt her vagina spasm, growing wetter by the second as she remembered the sound of his dark, velvet voice. The deep baritone stroked over her senses then plunged heatedly into her womb. How was she supposed to maintain her control this way? She despised the person she had been while married to Jase. She had acted like a harpy, her fury and fears driving her to rages that had terrified her.
For years. Years she had fought him and what he wanted from her. Because she had known how much he wanted from her. The sexual excesses he enjoyed. She pressed her fists to her stomach, fighting the driving, insidious images that pounded at her brain. She could have tolerated it, she told herself. She could have allowed herself to let go if she hadn’t known the man who would eventually arrive.
Jase was nothing if not honest. He had never lied to her when his sexuality had begun emerging. They had been in their early twenties, and his need to dominate, to control her sexual responses had at first seemed merely harmless play. He hated her controlled sexuality. Her fear of letting go, of giving him the responsibility of pleasing her.
Ella had hated his need for it. She had married him because she was pregnant. She had cared for him, had felt a warmth and gentle desire for him, but what he needed she had never wanted. Until she met James. Until she saw in his wicked, knowing eyes, the truth about herself.
God, he had been twenty-six, and she was already in her thirties. She had felt like a cradle robber, looking at him, feeling her pu**y gush with moisture, her br**sts swelling in desire. And then, she had begun to fantasize. When Jase took her, his c**k burrowing into her as he held her to the bed, she imagined it was James.
When he tied her to the bed, her ni**les would bead instantly as she thought of James tying her down, thought of James tormenting her body, driving her ragged with need. And when Jase had suggested a ménage, she had thought of James, yet still pretended her husband wasn’t truly serious.
Until the day James had walked into the room Jase had set up for his play. Tied to the narrow bed, her legs gaped open, as Jase grew more and more frustrated over her lack of response. James had walked in, his brilliant eyes going to her smooth, bare pu**y and she had creamed instantly. She had fought Jase, vowing to never allow him to touch her again. The screaming match that ensued lasted for years. Until the divorce.
She couldn’t stand it. For years she had pushed her own needs back, fought to forget James and the terrible desires that raged through her system. Until she walked in and saw Tess with Jesse, James’ twin brother. Betrayal had sliced through her soul. And Jesse, damn his black heart, had known. She had seen it in his eyes, in the sardonic lift of his mouth.
Her hand raised to one throbbing breast as the ache in her ni**les seemed to only grow. Her fingers glanced over the hard point beneath the silk blouse and sheer bra she wore. Her breath caught on a gasp at the electrified pleasure that washed over her.
She felt her pu**y cream furiously, spilling the thick essence along her bare cunt lips. Jase had started her habit of shaving there. It was one of the few things he had taught her that she was thankful for. Until now. Now, the incredible sensitivity of her bare inner lips was a curse. She could feel her juices, hot and slick, coating her flesh as they eased from her vagina, and it only made her ache more.
How was she going to bear having him in her house? Her arms wrapped around her waist as her womb clenched. He hadn’t been here an hour yet and already she could think of nothing but his touch moving over her, his hands stroking her, spanking her… She whimpered. She didn’t want that, she cried silently, couldn’t bear it.
“Ella, you in there? I’m ordering lunch, how do you feel about pizza?” He knocked on her door, startling her into jumping away from it with a tight gasp.
God, wasn’t he ever going to leave for work? Surely he wouldn’t be here for lunch. She couldn’t handle it.