Tycoon Page 13

  I lick my lips and he is watching me, speculatively.

  I take a step, then a few quicker ones, and then I’m pressing my mouth to his nipple. I lick the drop.

  He groans.

  A low, pained sound as his hand comes to cup the back of my head.

  I bend and lick the other drop, close to his belly button, on his strong, ripped abs, and my tongue dips into his belly button even though there’s not a drop there. When I place my hands on his abs, they feel so hard. They constrict beneath my fingers, and I kiss him on each square. My heart pounds as he holds the back of my head, one hand on my skull, the other curving possessively around my neck—exerting the slightest pressure to keep my face where it is. With my lips on his warm, wet skin. I ease up and meet his gaze.

  He pulls me up higher with his hand, looking straight at me with devastatingly tender eyes. His jaw starts working, his lips pressing into a grim line. He fists my hair, starts pulling me up. I go willingly.

  Pressing my mouth between his pecs. Then as he pulls me up another inch, he dives down, and the wet raindrops are replaced by his wet mouth.

  Something overtakes us. My hands on his wet shoulders, twining first and then gripping the wet muscle, nails in his back as his arms go around me and my legs go around him as he devours my mouth.

  Christos grabs my ass and boosts me.

  Up higher, so I’m almost higher than he is. I’m canting down my head so he can ravage me and massage my butt. His beautiful erection is almost a table for me to sit on. I feel so tiny even when he has me lifted higher, as if I were a little girl and he wanted to show me the world.

  “Aaric,” I breathe. My own driving desire shocks me.

  He turns me up against the wall, our mouths fused as he jams a hand between our bodies and touches me there.

  I’m not wearing any panties—only his slacks separate us, and as he kisses me and strokes his fingers along my wetness, I groan.

  He groans too, more undone than I am.

  He tears free and hunches down, and he nuzzles my stomach over my dress.

  My breath snags in my throat when he rasps something unintelligible, nudging my dress upward with his nose—then his breath is on the skin beneath my belly button.

  His fingertips run up the back of my knee, his nose pressing into my abdomen. He smells my skin.

  I whimper, my whole body tightening in yearning.

  He flicks his tongue out to lick my abs, a wet circle around my belly button, and he groans, as if my taste is addictive.

  I’m melting.

  His hand continues trailing up the back of my thigh, leisurely shifting to my inner thigh, under my skirt.

  His eyes shine as he looks up at me. But that look changes when he touches my sex with the tip of his index finger.

  The damp spot is unmistakable.

  He clenches his jaw. His gaze? It’s not playful anymore; it’s raw and ridiculously primitive. He tugs the fabric aside.

  “You’ve thought of this. Me kissing you here.”

  “No.”

  “You want this.”

  “No…”

  He moves his finger over my sex. “This tells me yes.”

  He ducks his head and presses his warm tongue and slowly runs it over my sex, tasting me.

  I shudder from the shock of the warm flick of his tongue over my wet spot, this time a little slower, a little firmer.

  My knees try to snap closed, but he grabs me by the thighs and holds me in place as he kisses me more, angling his head to taste more of me. Lick more of me. Twirl his tongue and caress more of me. “You’re beautiful, Bryn. You taste so good, little bit.”

  He spreads me a little farther open, his big body hunched between my legs, his shoulders bunched up as he keeps his head between my legs. He’s toying with my sex lips. I feel his hand coming to cup my sex with so much tenderness that it hurts my heart. He inserts two fingers inside me as he cups one breast with his hand and raises his head to look up at me.

  My breasts are moving up and down with my harsh breaths. Almost begging for his attention, one of them covered by his palm. The other so lonely and puckered it hurts.

  I bite my lower lip discreetly, my eyes meeting his for a fraction of a second—and I’m able to see the total pleasure in his eyes of seeing me undone like this, completely helpless. I want to have the energy to pull him closer, to ravage this man, but I can’t move one whit, because I’m undone seeing him like this too. Along with the pleasure in his eyes, I see heat—heat that this is doing shit to him, that he’s thought of this too.

  He stands back over me, leans over, and brushes his lips over mine, and I groan and feel myself go lax beneath him as he slides two fingers between my legs, all while kissing me—slow and thorough—his other hand tweaking my nipple in a move that I’d assume should be a little painful but is actually so pleasurable I arch and gasp, my gasp only inviting his tongue to keep working me into a frenzy. He roams his tongue in my mouth as his fingers move, one inch, two inches, three, four…in and out, slowly, priming me.

  My hands grip his hard shoulders. My legs twine around his hips, even as he remains dressed from the waist down.

  I start to kiss him back with all the passion I kept hidden for so many years. This man kissing me is the only man who makes me nervous. Makes me babble. Makes me afraid. Makes me excited. Makes me want.

  There are the kinds of things that you don’t choose—they just happen, sometimes with people you don’t want to react to as fiercely as you do. Christos has always been mine. My what if, and also my why him.

  Right now he’s the center of my universe. His nearness all I know. And that gold sea of desire in his eyes as he tears free to look down at me questioningly, as if he can’t believe I’m so fucking hungry. It’s the fucking hottest thing I’ve ever seen in a man.

  He grabs my dress and pulls it over my head.

  Groaning, out of control, I duck my head and nuzzle my nose as he rains kisses on my stomach.

  They’re not sweet kisses, not really. They have so much tongue and teeth: nips, gentle bites, hungry licks.

  “Aaric, I want to see you too,” I groan.

  He shushes me by nudging my legs farther apart and looking straight at me. Looking at me there. At the tingly, aching spot he just kissed with wicked intimacy. His eyes cool and assessing and at the same time hot and reverent.

  He presses a simple kiss to my curls.

  I buck from the pleasure, and he leans forward again and flicks his warm, slow, lovely tongue out to taste me again.

  Colors begin dancing behind my eyelids.

  I tense up as an orgasm starts building, surprising me.

  He stands then, and takes my arms and lays them against the wall, rocking his clothed hips against my naked body, his hard cock, covered only by his slacks, against my bare sex.

  All while he lowers and gives my mouth the biggest fucking of its life.

  I go off the next instant with a soft cry, Christos rocking against me as I do, his mouth and hands and strength all I know as he growls and comes with me, the dampness seeping from his pants and against my wet sex.

  As the waves start dissipating, I become aware of how we stand—me naked, him just shirtless and tattooed, his slacks damp from the rain, my hair tangled, my whole body still shuddering in aftershocks.

  I laugh, and his laugh is rich and deep as he chuckles too, brushing my hair back with one hand.

  He drives me home and walks me to my door. Sara’s in the kitchen and obviously catches on quickly enough when she sees him.

  “You’re welcome to stay, Christos,” Sara tells him as we walk into the living area.

  “He was on his way out. My boss has a big dick. I mean, my boss is an absolute dick. I need my rest.”

  Sara’s eyes widen, Christos just laughs.

  He leans over. “I’m not your boss, but when you need someone to boss you in bed—call me.” He winks.

  “You’re right, you’re my business partner. You o
ffered up the dough.”

  “Maybe you should offer me a nightcap.”

  “Christos, come on, my roommate is here…”

  “To my disadvantage,” he agrees, his eyes darkening. “Goodnight, bit.”

  “Goodnight, Aaric.”

  The door shuts, and I raise my hand to Sara. “Don’t ask.”

  “I have to!” she complains as she follows me to my room. “Are you two…?”

  I throw myself down on my bed. “You dared me to go after what I wanted.”

  “So?”

  “So I am,” I say, giddy as I hug my pillow and laugh. “Sara, I can’t even deal with myself right now,” I groan, flipping to my back and staring up at the ceiling, seeing his face as I came for him, his face as he came in his pants with me. The sexiest expression imaginable on his sexy-as-fuck face.

  Bryn

  We’re testing the software in the basement of the office warehouse. I pull my chair closer to the desk and keep my eyes on the computer screen as the developer clicks a few commands on the keyboard.

  We wait.

  And there it is, the House of Sass software loads and opens to the home screen.

  The logo looks gorgeous, in a sleek, simple font and a subtle gray color. The background is white and modern, with just a tiny bit of violet shade in both O’s of the name.

  The navigator looks easy to access, and they’ve already uploaded a sample “closet” outfit for me to see.

  As I take it all in, I’m not aware that I cover my mouth. I can’t breathe from the disbelief of seeing my plan—something that only existed in my mind—becoming alive right before my eyes.

  Aaric leans against a desk behind us and watches, then he steps forward and peers over my shoulder. His gaze ruthlessly scans the computer screen. “Do that again,” he tells the developer.

  The tech guy reloads the app.

  I want to cry from the excitement.

  “Too slow,” he says. “The second I click, I want it uploaded. No wait.”

  He takes me by the elbow and lifts me to my feet as we prepare to head back upstairs.

  “App version coming along?” he asks the developer.

  “We have an app?” I ask, surprised.

  Christos looks at me with a glint of amusement in his eye. “Yes, bit. We will have an app.”

  “Of course,” I say, “of course we will have an app,” covering my surprise and acting cool in front of the developer but smiling happily at Christos.

  As we exit the basement area, I try to keep up with his long strides as we head up the stairs. “Christos, I’m thinking. We can place sponsor ads discreetly on the free version. Or people can pay for the full version. Every sale sends underprivileged child clothes, food, and books.”

  He raises his brows.

  “Because people need it. Just like people need this software in their lives,” I add.

  We reach the second-floor landing, and he faces me with an approving smile. He studies my face for a moment. “Are you busy later?”

  “I hoped to work.”

  “Would you consider working while having dinner with me?”

  “That would totally not be work.”

  He takes my chin and turns my head around. “Have dinner with me.”

  I swallow, admitting, “I’d like that very much.”

  We take a black car and head from Brooklyn to Manhattan. It’s rush hour, but we make it in fifty minutes.

  I usually travel by subway, so seeing New York as the sun sets while I ride in the back of the car with him makes me breathless. Growing up, I always wanted to experience New York. And now I share an apartment here with Sara, and this big city feels like home—at last.

  And beside me is Aaric, the boy from my past who’s no longer just a boy, and no longer just in my past. He’s very much a man, very much in my present. My heart is thumping in excitement as a hot little tingle between my thighs grows at his nearness and because he’s got his hand on my thigh, lounging in his seat as if his hand belongs there.

  I like the way it feels too much to do that.

  It excites me, true, that he’s a little forward. He’s more brazen now, as a man, I think because he also knows that I’m no longer a girl. I’m a woman, and I can take more. He can push…just a little more.

  I swallow in anticipation.

  We reach his brownstone, and he leads me up to the top floor, then opens the doors that lead to the balcony. I’m speechless by the view of the park spreading out before us, the shadows of sunset streaking across the tops of the trees.

  “This is incredible,” I say, laughing in delight as I drink up the most vibrant city in the United States and possibly, the world.

  Christos is smiling when I turn. He’s got his hands inside his pockets, a look of thoughtful warmth on his face.

  “I really like the combination of traditional and contemporary of your brownstone. It’s kind of like you.”

  “I’m traditional?”

  “Part of you. Your desire for a family and stability. But another part of you is cutting edge. The business side.”

  “Glad you’ve discovered those two sides of me. There’s yet a third.” He begins prowling forward.

  “What third.”

  “An animalistic, crazy as hell, third side of me that you should run away from.”

  “Me or everyone?”

  “Just you. Because you’re the one who brings it about.” He winks, then brings me forward and laughs when I blush. He brushes my lips against his.

  “Are you hungry?” he asks.

  “Starved.”

  “Get changed for dinner then, and we’ll head off.”

  “This is all I have to wear.”

  “No, bit.” He shakes his head. “It’s not.”

  He lets his eyes drift past my shoulders to one of the doors. Confused, I walk into a small bedroom and am surprised to see a silver box waiting on the bed.

  There’s a card that reads, bit on it. I open the box and pull out a dress.

  Oh my God!

  It’s not just a dress. It’s a dress from MY LINE. The first dress made for House of Sass.

  I’m trembling from the excitement as I slip it on, zip it up, and hurry to the full-length mirror.

  The shock of seeing myself wearing my own high-end-made design freezes me on the spot.

  My eyes run down my curves, taking in how slinky the material is, how sexy and elegant the cut is. He had it done in the most decadent violet shade ever. I blink several times and walk slowly toward my reflection, putting my fingers on the mirror just to be sure I’m awake.

  Is this really my life? I feel like a royal princess. I’ve never been pampered by a guy. I’ve never been seriously wined and dined either. To go out with Aaric tonight feels surreal.

  I step outside, and the feeling only intensifies when I spot him. He’s wearing slacks and a white shirt, with the top buttons unbuttoned. Freshly showered and gorgeous. His eyes leisurely tracking my frame.

  “I love this,” I say, glancing sheepishly down at my dress. “Do you?”

  His eyes twinkle. “That’s putting it mildly. You look stunning in it.” He eyes me appreciatively.

  “Thank you. I’m feeling high on emotions, so forgive me if I tear up.”

  I wave my face with my hand and he approaches. “You’re welcome. You deserve it after what I put you through.”

  “Your awful vetting, you mean?”

  He nods, sliding a hand down my waist, then brushing my hair back as he drinks in my every feature with lazy interest.

  We smile at each other. He then grabs his keys and cell phone from a foyer table, leaning over me to do it. My breath catches when his hot whisper trickles along my ear. “You have no clue how much I look forward to taking that off you tonight,” he whispers and sets a kiss on my cheek.

  “I just put it on!” At his answering chuckle, I try to suppress a giggle, but he leans over and takes it with his lips, kissing me softly, pressing me into him with his
hands splayed on my back.

  I can feel his erection against my abdomen, and the memory of what it feels like inside of me makes me whimper as his tongue moves over mine. I sink into him, time and space evaporating to nothing as I kiss him back.

  He tears free with effort.

  “Let’s go,” he says, his fingers touching the small of my back as he leads me out of his place and to the elevators.

  Christos is watching me over the fancy red menu. We smile.

  My feelings toward him are becoming more and more intense.

  I know he’s had rosters of women; why he’d want to involve himself with me is a mystery. But he doesn’t even try to hide the desire in his eyes. And even more confusing is why I’d want to get myself involved with him, of all the guys? He’s the one that is the most difficult to understand, and impossible to control, plus why ruin a possibly good business relationship? Why ruin what could be a very healthy friendship-slash-business relationship?

  Because he’s adorable when he smiles and his eyes shine a little brighter—a little more green than gold.

  And when he looks at me, sometimes, as if he’s still the boy that had a crush on me, I melt. I’ve missed this guy.

  At the end of the evening, accused of eating most of his dessert and mine, I laugh and snuggle close as he helps me out of my chair, and there’s nowhere else I’d rather be.

  After dinner, we walk down 5th Avenue—it’s one of those rare walks where you’re just walking for pleasure, without any rush of having to be anywhere or wanting to be any other place than where you are.

  “I’ve never really opened up to a guy before—about my parents. It’s so easy with you. I’ve been scared that you could hurt me. But lately I’ve been thinking that I don’t want to be scared anymore. That if anything, you’re the one guy I’d trust not to hurt me.”

  I reach out and slip my hand into his—then realize what I’m doing.

  “I can’t believe I did that.” I’m so shocked by how naturally I grabbed his hand that I try to withdraw my hand.

  “Why.” He gives me a gentle squeeze, keeping my grip in his.