he asked, wanting to fill the awkward silence. “I could order something up from room service if you’d like.”
“I’ve never done this sort of thing before.” The words seemed to burst out of her mouth, and for the first time since meeting her she seemed shy, scared. “I’ve dated some over the years, but I’ve never had … a one-night stand.”
Amused, he pressed the button for the twentieth floor. If he had a dime for every time a woman had fed him that line he could buy the car of his dreams—a black Rolls Royce Phantom.
“I don’t want to give you the wrong impression of me. I’m not the kind of girl who …”
Why did women always do this? he wondered, concealing a grin. Did they think pretending they were actually good girls gone bad for the night would improve his opinion of them? The muscles in his jaw tightened. Right, like that was ever going to happen. If there was one thing he’d learned through traveling the globe, it was that women enjoyed sex. As much, if not more, than men did. And those with sexual hang-ups had been programmed by their parents and wellmeaning Sunday school teachers into believing only whores liked doing the nasty. But Damien was here to tell Niveah that it was okay to embrace her sexuality. She was a freak, a woman who loved casual sex, and there was nothing wrong with that. “Tonight’s about being in the moment, about being free without restrictions.”
“I think I made a mistake.” Niveah rubbed a hand along her forehead, then dragged it through her hair. “My friends were ganging up on me, and I let what they said get to me. I approached you at the bar to prove to them that I can be fun and spontaneous, but the truth is I’m not. I’m really sorry about all this, but I have to go back downstairs to the …”
Damien blinked, sure the cognac he’d downed earlier was blurring his vision. The sexy, flirtatious woman he’d met at the bar less than an hour ago was crumbling right before his eyes. And if he didn’t do something quick, their night of passionate lovemaking would be ruined. Realizing their evening was in jeopardy, Damien sprang to action. He stepped forward, pulled her to his chest and planted one on her. A kiss so fierce their bodies slammed together.
Niveah fought against him, trying to escape, but gave up the fight when he inclined his head toward her, deepening the kiss. Bolts of electricity shot between them. He’d initiated contact, but feeling her lips against his sent Damien stumbling back into the mirrored wall. Had he ever tasted a mouth so soft? So wickedly sweet and enticing?
Unsteady on his feet, he clutched her waist. They grunted and groaned, caressed and squeezed until it became unbearable. Damien stuck a hand up her dress, and cursed fashion designers for ever inventing such a tight, restrictive material. A little piece of fabric wasn’t going to prevent him from copping a feel, he decided, using his hands to yank down the sheer barrier.
Palming her butt cheeks, he ground his erection into her, loving how soft she felt against his body. Damien slid a hand inside her panties, and Niveah purred in his ear. He played in her hair, twirling curls around his index finger. Then he probed her core with his thumb. A thick, creamy moisture oozed onto his hand. Her clit was wet, slick—just the way he liked it. He hadn’t tasted her yet, hadn’t dipped his mouth inside the treasure between her legs, but he could already feel the righteous makings of a killer orgasm. “I can’t wait to be inside you,” he whispered. “That’s what you want, isn’t it? For me to sex you all night long?”
Her tortured moans filled the air.
Damien withdrew his hand from in between Niveah’s legs and frantically searched his pockets. They weren’t going to make it to his suite. Not when she was bucking against him like a wild woman on a runaway bull. He retrieved the condom just as the elevator doors slid open.
Niveah surfaced from her haze. It was a miracle she was still standing. Voices carried down the hall, reminding her that she was still at the Ritz-Carlton, and not back in her bedroom playing out a hot, torrid fantasy. Since she didn’t want to kick off the year flashing perfect strangers in a hotel she frequented for business, she straightened her dress, and yanked up her stockings. How the hell did my stilettos come off? she wondered, stuffing her feet back into her red Fendi shoes. Probably somewhere between Damien palming my breasts, and fingering my clit, she surmised, still feeling the after affects of her mini-orgasm.
Niveah almost lost her balance when Damien seized her hand. “This way,” he said, making a sharp left turn. “My suite is at the end of the hall.”
A green light flashed when Damien slid his key card into the slot above the door. Opening it with one hand, he gently urged her inside with the other. Niveah almost stumbled over her feet. This was actually going to happen; she was about to have her first one-night stand. Doubts attacked her like invisible assailants hiding in the dark. Her mind was screaming, No, don’t do it!, but her body was screaming, Yes! Yes! Yes! What the hell was she supposed to do?
Warmed by Damien’s good-natured smile, she shoved her fears aside and stepped farther into the suite. The air smelled like men’s aftershave, and the light from the moon spilling in through the balcony created a peaceful, tranquil mood.
Damien came up behind her, so close that she could feel his erection through her dress. Goose bumps broke out across her arm. He—Niveah gulped—couldn’t be that long, could he? He gripped her shoulders, then buried his face into her hair. Damien placed kisses along the slope of her neck, and her head fell flat against his chest. Using his hands, he tweaked her nipples and massaged her clit simultaneously.
A fire brewed in Niveah’s stomach, causing her to moan. The ache between her legs grew to a full-blown throb. Then her heart got into the mix, skipping, thumping, rattling. Niveah never knew it could be like this. Never knew that she could want someone this much.
It started with a surge in her chest, then uncontrollable shaking and shortness of breath. Before she could ward against the onslaught, several fast, hard climaxes gripped her. Pleasure exploded behind Niveah’s eyes. Damien was going to kill her. Right here in the middle of his luxurious executive suite. Her desire for him couldn’t be contained, and she was quickly losing control. Screaming, grunting, begging Damien for more.
Time slipped away. Stretched into passion-filled seconds and minutes.
Niveah didn’t know how much more of this she could take. It was just a matter of time before she was gasping for air and her legs gave way. Moaning in sweet agony, she arched her back, fully prepared to ride out another looming orgasm. Damien cupped her chin, and kissed her so fully, so passionately, Niveah felt as if she was spinning on a carousel. Her shoes fell off, her dress sailed down her hips, and her fifty-dollar nylons lay in pieces on the floor.
Still kissing, they stumbled farther into the suite, knocking into end tables, couch legs and other furniture. Down to just her panties, her body throbbing with heat and desire, she dragged her fingernails up his chest, across his neck, and over his head. Moving to an inaudible beat, Niveah rocked her hips against his shaft. Grinding her backside into his crotch caused Damien to release a savage groan. Wanting to give as much as she’d received, Niveah reached around, unzipped his pants and massaged his erection. Touching him confirmed it. The brother was hung. Like Mandingo. Long, thick and righteously built.
Damien swiveled his tongue around her nipples, licked between her breasts and trailed his mouth down her spine. Niveah sucked in a breath, sure she was about to black out. The more aggressive Damien was, the more turned-on she was. Everything about him was erotically charged and exciting. He had great hands, hands a masseur would kill for, and he knew how she liked to be touched. Damien kissed like he was making love to her mouth, thrilled her every time he nuzzled his face against the curve of her ear, and whispered dirty commands in
