Aloha, page 2
Men and women alike looked up as I strode into the room in my sleek red dress and Louboutin heels. My dark hair was down in loose curls. Ever-present cherry-red lipstick perfectly applied on my lips. Despite the circumstances, not a single strand was out of place.
“Can I help you?” the bartender asked when I took the only unoccupied seat.
“Vodka martini, extra olives.”
“Coming right up.”
“Going to be a long night,” the man next to me said.
“Mmm,” I said noncommittally.
I pulled out my cell phone and jotted out texts to friends. My martini came, and I ordered a second after the first was finished. I still hadn’t heard from my travel agent. Just how I wanted to spend my evening.
A hush fell over the lounge as the doors opened again. I lifted my gaze, and my heart stuttered. The man at the front might as well have been a god descended from Olympus to grace us with his presence. He was as terrifying with his intensity as he was gorgeous. A strong jawline, cold eyes, and perfect lips on a solid frame encased in a several-thousand-dollar suit tailored to his incredible build.
Those dark eyes moved across the room, command in every gesture. Until they found me. A shiver ran down my spine. I lifted my martini to him. He arched an eyebrow and then turned his attention to the concierge who had approached him. After a few moments in deep conversation, he took a phone call and left the suite.
I sighed. Fine then.
I pulled my iPad back out, connected to the Wi-Fi, and navigated the list of airport hotels. I usually stayed in Percy Tower when I was in town, but did I want to brave the storm without car service? Probably not.
A dwindling number of hotels still had a few rooms available, but none seemed like much of an option. My daddy used to have property here before he lost everything. Luckily, he’d given me my apartment overlooking Central Park before the IRS could take it, too. My life would have been much easier if he wasn’t such a scumbag.
When I finished off the second martini, I felt a presence at my back.
“She’ll take another,” the man said behind me.
I shifted to make out the features of the gorgeous gentleman from earlier.
“And I’ll have a scotch. Do you have Blue Label?”
The bartender shook his head. “Sorry, sir. We have Black Label though.”
“Fine.” He slid a black credit card across the bar. “Put hers on mine, too.”
“Presumptuous,” I teased.
His dark eyes met mine. I saw unbridled power and control.
“We’re both stranded here until morning. We might as well have a good drink.”
I set the iPad down, ignoring the hotel information. I’d already found a better option. “Surely, you’re not staying in the lounge overnight.”
He scoffed. “Of course not.” His eyes caught the open website on my screen. “And you aren’t either.”
“No, I’m not. I’ll get a hotel room.”
He shifted closer to me. “Or you could take mine.”
I fluttered my eyelashes. “Then, where would you stay?”
He smirked, a small guffaw escaping him. “You’re cheeky.”
“I’ve been told that before.”
“I bet you have.”
“You’ll be staying with me,” he said.
There was no second-guessing the bold statement. I would be lying if I said I didn’t like his daring authority. He went after what he wanted, and tonight, that was me.
“Perhaps presumptuous is your middle name.”
He fingered a strand of my dark hair. “You don’t seem to mind.”
A shiver went up my spine. “I don’t.”
Another martini was placed before me. His scotch was set down in a crystal glass.
“Closed or open?” the bartender asked.
“Closed. I don’t think we’ll be here much longer.”
I swallowed. The tension bristling between us. He was only a hairbreadth away from me, and my insides felt like they were made of jelly. Perhaps it was foolish to feel anything for a man like this, stranded in the same place. When I went home, I’d return to a million responsibilities—work, my charity, the children. Right at this moment, I was just a woman, and all I wanted was this man. In fact, it felt like the thunderstorm had engineered this fortuitous meeting.
I stuffed my tablet back into the bag. “Where to?”
He tossed back his scotch, and with one wicked grin, I was lost. “Follow me.”
Chapter 2
I caught my first sight of the torrential downpour as we stalked toward the airport exit. The glass sliding doors opened, and a whoosh as loud as a hurricane catapulted into the lobby. For a moment, I second-guessed whether or not we should even leave the airport. There were reasons people were sleeping inside and not braving the treacherous conditions. Not all of them had to do with the fact that nearly every hotel in a five-mile radius was completely booked.
But he had my hand in his and was walking with all the purpose in the world toward two men holding large black umbrellas.
“This way,” the first man said.
He held an umbrella up, and we continued our stride as if nothing could stop us.
A black Escalade waited at the curb, and I was quickly helped into the backseat. My beau carefully unbuttoned the top of his suit coat before taking the seat beside me. The door slammed. A moment later, the two men got into the front, and the car pulled away.
Silence stretched between us, filled with momentous wonder. Who was going to break the quiet? He wasn’t the type of man to break for anyone or anything.
I let my gaze skip over his strong features a moment before pulling my phone out. A message was there from my travel agent.
“Finally,” I muttered.
She listed hotel accommodations, along with a rebooked flight for tomorrow afternoon at three, as long as planes were taking off.
“What’s that?” he asked, looking over my shoulder.
“New flight. Did yours get rebooked?”
He smirked. “The plane leaves when I’m on it.”
Of course it did. And normally, I’d be on that private plane. It was really a travesty that I was flying commercial. I’d forgotten how much I disliked it.
“Perhaps you can just fly me back to the city then,” I teased.
He arched an eyebrow. “We’ll see.”
Then he returned to his own phone. I responded to my travel agent that I had a place to stay for the night, but to be on top of things in case more flights were canceled in the morning. I did not want to be stuck in this storm forever.
The traffic into Waikiki was a disaster, taking twice as long as it had any other time I’d been on the island of Oahu. Finally, the Escalade pulled into a covered interior, the deafening storm deadened by the building. He got out first and offered me his hand to help me out. Then he pulled my hand into the crook of his arm and directed me into the hotel with the name Percy in big gold letters on the exterior.
Inside, the lobby was immaculate with white marble everything and black and gold accents. It was sleek and modern and expensive, all rolled into one perfect package. We entered the elevator and he used a key card to get to the penthouse, and we shot straight upward. Instead of opening to a hallway, the elevator revealed a white marble foyer. Orchids were on display in vases, and beautiful artwork hung from the walls. He slid the card on the door, and we entered paradise.
The penthouse must have taken up the entire floor. It was enormous with multiple suites, a dining area, living room, and full kitchen. The far wall exposed an impressive display of the thunderstorm cascading into an infinity pool. The water slashed across the windows like an intruder attempting to infiltrate the place. Lightning broke the skyline, momentarily revealing the sandy beach below and the Pacific Ocean beyond.
“Drink?” he asked.
“Absolutely.”
He strode to a fully stocked bar and poured himself the Blue Label scotch he’d requested at the airport lounge. Then he grabbed a bottle of champagne and held it up for my inspection. “Yes?”
“Well, it’s not a dirty martini.”
He ripped the foil off the cork. “You’ve had enough of those.”
I scoffed. “That so?”
“Yes. Now, we’re celebrating.”
He poured the champagne into a flute and passed it to me. The bubbles tickled my nose when I inhaled the dry scent of the alcohol.
“What exactly are we celebrating?”
“The storm, of course.”
“You want to celebrate getting stranded in Hawaii for a night?”
His dark eyes gleamed. “With you.”
I bit my lip and then lifted my glass. “To fate then.”
“A little on the nose,” he said, moving his head side to side, as if debating whether to agree. “But I accept it.”
Our glasses came together, and he took a long swallow. He set his glass aside and watched me sip on my champagne. It was my favorite vintage. I’d visited the winery years ago, and I kept bottles of it chilled at home for every occasion.
Yet I could barely concentrate on the stuff with his intense gaze on me. I wanted to ask him what he was thinking, but there was no point. He’d never tell me. He was an enigma. It was written across his broad shoulders and strong jaw and mysterious eyes. Scrawled over every inch of that toned body, hidden in that fancy suit.
“What?” I finally asked, twirling the flute in my hand.
“Come here.”
My body heated at the command in those two words. The desire laced in every syllable.
I set my glass down and stepped into his orbit. The rest of the world was spinning, but here he was, the center of the universe.
“Yes?” I asked breathily.
His hand came to my chin, tipping it up so he could look directly into my eyes instead of the hooded look I’d given him through my lashes. He roved my face, memorizing every inch of it. I swallowed at the assessment, unable to keep myself from squirming just a little at his attention.
He rubbed his thumb across the red of my bottom lip. My lips parted slightly as my body thrummed to life. I darted my tongue out, catching the tip of his thumb. He didn’t flinch or move an inch, but I watched the desire ratchet up in his gaze.
“Tonight, you’re mine.”
He tugged me forward until our lips were a breath away. My eyes still lingered on his. A puff of need escaped me at those words.
I was his. I was all his tonight.
“Yes,” I breathed.
That was all the permission he required before his mouth descended, fitting to mine like the piece I’d always been missing.
Chapter 3
He tasted like pure sin.
His lips were sweet torture.
His hands fisted in my hair, a brutal tenderness.
None of it made sense. How much it hurt and how perfect it was, all at the same time. The complete control in his every movement. The precision of his mouth moving against mine. The dominance as his tongue swept inward.
It was like my first kiss all over again. It sundered me. I was in the midst of it and already knew it was the end of everything else. The kiss that told me I’d never want anything else but this. His hands in my hair, his body pressed against mine, and his lips devouring me whole.
My heart was in my throat as I tried to drag him closer, but I was held in place. There was no escape from his embrace. And I didn’t want to escape either. I wanted to drown in this kiss. Drown and drown and drown.
I was so far underwater that I could barely breathe as he broke away from my mouth and stared down at me with his mercurial eyes. The fascination in them evident. My red lipstick a slight smudge against his mouth.
I reached forward to brush it off, and he caught my wrist tightly in his grip.
“Don’t.”
“My lipstick,” I said by way of explanation.
He rubbed his knuckles across his lips. The movement harsh and deliberate. My pulse quickened at the smear of red that came back across his hand. And then the slow, wicked smirk that crossed those pouty lips at the sight of the red.
“It’s supposed to be kiss-proof.”
“You smeared it all over my lips. Where else will you smear it?”
I opened my mouth to object, but that was the wrong thing to do. His thumb pressed inward, invading my mouth in the best way. I closed around the digit. My eyes were intent on his heated expression as I flicked my tongue against him and then dragged it out of my mouth.
But he wasn’t looking at me when I was through. His eyes were on his own hand. A red rim was around the end of his thumb. An example of what my lips had done to him.
“Perfect.” His eyes finally lifted to me. “Now, on your knees.”
“I—” I began.
But he interrupted me, “Now.”
I swallowed, clenching my hands into fists. I hated him for the words as much as they heated me through. If I’d thought he was being condescending or degrading rather than turned the fuck on, I might have left. But I saw the way his pupils dilated and the thump of his heartbeat in his throat at the sight of my lipstick.
So, despite everything in my blood telling me not to, I slowly sank down on the hard tiled floor. The cold ground already biting into my knees.
He stared down at me with mischievous delight. As if he knew exactly what kind of torture it had taken for me to obey like that. Then he just left me to kneel next to the wet bar. A submissive stance that he clearly enjoyed as he removed a handkerchief from his pocket. An honest-to-god handkerchief with the letter P in tiny golden font across the silken material. He cleaned the lipstick off of his thumb and knuckles, then he tossed it carelessly onto the counter.
I knew what was coming next, and yet I couldn’t make the move. I just knelt and waited.
He cupped my chin in his large hand. “And here I thought, you’d fight me.”
“Would you like me to?”
“Always,” he teased.
“I don’t believe you,” I told him. My gaze slipped to the front of his pants, where his cock strained against the expensive wool trousers. “Your cock is hard from me following orders.”
“Ah, there’s my little brat.”
I shivered at the words. So humiliating, and somehow, they made everything in my body shudder with need. “I’m not—”
“Shh,” he commanded.
He slipped his suit jacket off of his broad shoulders and tossed it on top of the handkerchief. He undid the buckle on his belt, and the snick of it leaving the loops made me tremble with desire. He pulled the two ends together and gave an experimental snap with it. I jolted at the sound, and he grinned wider. The belt followed his jacket, and then he was undoing his pants, letting them hang low on his narrow waist. His cock jutted forward against the black of his boxer briefs. Then he reached within and removed the thick length of him.
My mouth watered at the sight of him, long and veiny. He pumped it in his hand a few times as he watched me watch him. My body clenched all over as I imagined him pumping that inside of me. The feel of his cock taking everything that I would give.
“Open your mouth and take this like a good little brat,” he said, gripping the back of my head and pulling me onto his cock.
I opened wide, wide, wider, coughing around the immense length of him. I swallowed him down to try to make more room, and he grunted in appreciation. The sound alone warmed something deep in my core.
“So good,” he praised. “So very good.”
He pulled back, giving me room to breathe. I took the opportunity to seize some control of the situation. My hand found the shaft, and I worked him while I bobbed on his cock.
“No,” he said, taking my hand away. “I want that red lipstick like a rim around my cock.”
I had no words. I couldn’t speak even if I wanted to. His hands were back in my hair as he thrust into my mouth. The red lipstick leaving an imprint all over him. And I couldn’t even complain. Everything was on fire as he used my mouth.
I felt him swell inside of me.
I prepared myself, knowing what was coming as he pushed to the back of my throat and grunted out, “Swallow.”
There was no other option as hot spurts splashed into my mouth. I swallowed hard as he jerked a few more times and then finished. He pulled out of my mouth, and I rocked back on my heels, delirious. He gripped the counter with one hand as his eyes raked over the red ring on his cock.
His look was one of triumph. “Perfection.”
Chapter 4
He didn’t wait for me to come back to coherence. He just tucked his still-wet cock back into his pants, bent forward, and lifted me over his shoulder. I gasped in shock as my head dipped toward his muscular ass. My Louboutin heels dangling precariously on my feet.
“What are you doing?” I gasped.
But he tightened his grip around my thighs and carried me out of the living space and into a bedroom. From the glimpse I got of the room while upside down, it looked massive with a king bed, dressers, and elegant artwork. An open door led into an all-white bathroom while the opposite wall sported more floor-to-ceiling windows, revealing a covered hot tub that still couldn’t escape the tropical storm thundering outside.
He tossed me unceremoniously onto the bed. The layers of bedding and the thick mattress pad cushioned my fall.
All I got was a look at the back of his head as he headed toward the bathroom, yelling, “Don’t move,” over his shoulder.
And so, I didn’t. Not a muscle.
Even though every inch of my body was warring with me to do anything but what he’d said. I wanted to want to take orders. The commands themselves made me hot all over, yet I chafed at every single inflection out of his mouth.
The look on his face when he returned to find me still lying on my back in the bed made it worth it. He’d stripped out of his button-up shirt, revealing the muscled torso beneath. His trousers had disappeared as well, and his powerful thighs were on display as he strode back across the room to where I lay.
