Six Weeks, page 6
She leaned forward, resting her hands against his white-shirted front. She approved of his outfit. He looked devastating in black tie.
“Don’t worry,” she whispered, “you will get to take it off me tonight.”
His eyes were cool as he stared down into her upturned face. “It looks as though someone already took half of that dress off you.”
She hid a smile. He sounded so prudish!
“It’s meant to give the illusion of being see-through,” she informed him.
He pulled back slightly, holding her by the upper arms and taking another look at her long, form-fitting lace dress, cunningly rigged with strategic nude panels throughout.
“It’s a damn convincing illusion,” he finally pronounced, his voice roughened.
“But you can’t see any bit of what I sent you earlier, can you?”
“No,” he had to admit. “I can’t.”
Jaya let herself fall against him, letting him feel just how thin the barrier between gorgeous formal wear and complete nudity could be.
“Because that was for your eyes only.” She smiled up at him. The acute angle made him look positively medieval, stern and all powerful. “It’s the sheerest lace imaginable. Barely there.”
“Like the dress,” Austen said grimly. “I’ll be fending off ardent admirers all night. But you’re coming home with me if I have to drag you off by your pretty locks.”
Did she say medieval? She meant pure Stone Age.
* * * *
They turned heads as they entered the black-and-gold bedecked ballroom. Jaya thought it must be the contrast they made. The tall blond man, and the smaller dark woman on his arm. His classic formalwear, and her risqué gown. She’d tried the dress out under the stage lights and knew how the dozens of chandeliers overhead must emphasise her appearance of semi-nudity.
Austen tilted his head towards her. “I knew I should have carried some sort of weapon.”
A few dark-suited men were making their way towards them. Austen greeted each man smoothly and introduced them to Jaya as partners in his law firm.
All of the men looked at her appreciatively, but one was staring harder than the rest. Ted Something-or-other.
“Where have you been hiding this beauty?” he asked.
Austen’s hand tightened on Jaya’s elbow, making her glance up at him in surprise. Was he actually jealous of the other man’s attention? Or was he genuinely worried?
As good-looking as Ted Whatshisname was, Austen put every other man to shame. The sparkling lights above them turned his head into a golden crown and his height was enough to make sure that crown shone in every corner of the vast room.
“In my tower,” Austen replied lightly. “She also weaves straw into gold.”
Ted raised his eyebrows. “Also? I wouldn’t have thought she needed any other talent.”
Other than looking pretty, Jaya supposed. What a jerk.
Austen must have come to the same conclusion judging by the way his mouth tightened. “Jaya works in a theatre where, I understand, she is invaluable.”
He sounded so proud of her! She was all aglow.
“You’re an actress?” Ted asked, his smile becoming a faint leer.
“I’m the manager there,” Jaya coolly informed him.
“Beautiful and talented.” Ted avoided looking at Austen when he asked, “Will you save me a dance later?”
Before she could reply, Austen cut in. “The lady’s dance card is full for the evening.”
With a curt goodbye, he manoeuvred Jaya away from the men and back into the flow of the mingling crowd.
“That was not exactly sociable,” Jaya murmured.
“I wasn’t feeling sociable,” Austen grumbled. “I didn’t know the weapon I needed would be a sword.”
Jaya glanced up at him. His set face was very much out of place in the festive room.
“For duelling, you mean?” She laughed softly. “You don’t have to fight for me, darling. You have me.”
He stared down at her. “Do I? For how much longer?”
She stopped the hand he was about to raise, as if to check his platinum watch.
“For as long as you want,” she said recklessly.
“Liar,” he accused without heat. But his expression lightened somewhat as they made their way to their table.
The speeches went on for a long time, with person after person being called up to ‘say a few words’ and each taking at least ten minutes.
Jaya amused herself by trying to direct the speakers. Too gushing. Mechanical, not enough emotion. Bordering on incoherence. She wished someone would at least mention the purpose of the charity they were supposedly all there to support.
After the speeches, the guests settled down to an interminable feast of course after course of very rich food. Fortunately, there were no more than two bites in every dish. The wine pairings, however, were exquisite. Crisp and sharp enough to cut through the lashings of butter and cream that seemed to be the basis for each plate. All credit to the unknown sommelier for actually making her enjoy wine, instead of simply drinking it because there was nothing else available.
The last of the three separate dessert courses was a heavenly passionfruit meringue. Jaya slowly spooned up every morsel.
When she looked up to find Austen staring, she flushed.
He pushed back his chair. “I need to work off some of that meal. Care to dance?”
The band was only just starting their first song.
Jaya hesitated. “No one else is dancing.”
“Then we’ll be the first.”
He stood up and extended his hand to her. After a second, Jaya took it. Her legs were quaking. She hoped she wouldn’t let him down.
Every set of eyes in the ballroom were riveted on them as they took the floor.
Remembering long-ago ballroom dancing lessons, Jaya initially tried to keep a bit of distance between them, but Austen wouldn’t allow it. He pulled her close to him and held her there, his hand splayed across her bare back.
Dancing this way, every step brought their bodies into closer contact. She could feel his hard thighs brushing against hers, his muscled chest against her breasts. The touches were brief, fleeting…incessant.
Jaya couldn’t remember being more aware of a man’s body outside of actually having sex.
She could feel Austen’s arousal pressing against her belly.
“If you dance like this with anyone else tonight,” he said conversationally, “I’ll probably end up in jail.”
Looking past his shoulder, Jaya asked, “So I can’t dance with anyone else?”
“Not now.” His voice was suddenly harsh. “Not wearing this. Not looking like this.”
“Looking like what?” she demanded, ready to be offended.
He tilted her chin up so that she was forced to look at him. His eyes were dark and hot, so hot they burned into hers.
“Like every man’s erotic fantasy.”
Sighing, she snuggled closer to him. “I don’t want to be any man’s fantasy. I only want to be your reality.”
She wanted to tell him the truth she’d only recently discovered for herself.
She wanted to tell him she was his.
Austen’s mouth twisted cynically. “For as long as I want?”
Ignoring the mockery in his voice, she answered honestly. “Yes.”
“Forgive me if I reserve judgment on that declaration,” Austen told her. “I prefer to see the evidence first.”
Jaya shook her head, frustrated. “How can I prove it to you?”
His eyes glinted down at her. “I can think of a few ways.”
Was that what he needed? Physical proof? The proof of her body only?
Jaya’s lips clamped down on the foolish words she’d been about to utter. What was the point of more words? He wouldn’t believe them anyway.
She would have to prove her love to him.
* * * *
The silence during their trip back to his condo was a strained one.
As promised, Austen had claimed every dance with her and each time they’d danced together, her need for him had grown.
Right now, Jaya wanted to reach out and touch him. Run her hand down his thigh…then up again. Take his cock in her hand. Take him right over the edge.
Beside her, Austen swore as another red light stalled them.
Sensing the intensity of his frustration, she dared not even look at him. The silence was killing her, though.
“It was a lovely night,” she ventured.
“Yes.”
“Everyone there saw you,” she pointed out. Which was, of course, the real reason they had attended, to be seen by his clients and colleagues.
“Everyone there saw you too,” Austen said dryly.
She smiled at him. “But only you got to touch.”
His blue eyes move restlessly over her. “I’m afraid I’ll go up in smoke.”
So was she. “Then we’ll burn together.”
The light turned green. Austen laid down a good bit of rubber.
At his condo, they didn’t even turn on the light, just stepped inside and into each other’s arms as if drawn together by powerful, irresistible magnets.
Their bodies strained together in the darkness. Austen’s hands were everywhere, taking what he had denied himself on the dance floor. Taking what was his.
He kissed her savagely, his mouth bruising. His pure male dominance thrilled her. This ferocity was something she’d sensed before but never experienced. Finally, his long-fought self-control was shredding before her eyes.
Still kissing her, Austen lifted her off her feet and carried her into his bedroom.
He laid her down in the centre of his big bed, following her closely, his long body somehow managing to fit over hers without crushing her.
Jaya was quiescent beneath him, revelling in his obvious hunger. Her dress was too tight to allow her to wrap her legs around him and bring him closer. She was more or less bound by its clinging lace.
When she whimpered in frustration, Austen responded by thrusting his tongue deep into her mouth.
His technique was effective. She sucked on his tongue greedily, making him groan in the back of his throat.
Austen’s hips held her pinned to the bed, forcing her to feel the hot urgency of his arousal.
In response, Jaya moved sinuously against him. “I want you inside me.”
He moved his hands over her clad figure, seeking the hidden fastenings.
“This fucking dress,” he groaned, lifting his head to make a visual inspection.
By now, she was just as frustrated as he was, but she made herself laugh breathily. “I thought you liked it.”
His eyes were piercingly blue. “I love it. I love everything about you, kitten.”
Oh! Her heart might swell so big it exploded from sheer happiness. Those heated words were so close to the ones she desperately wanted to hear.
Austen’s expression turned rueful. “Now help me get this thing off you.”
In the end, she did it alone, stripping off the silky dress as if shedding an exquisite second layer of skin.
Sitting on the edge of the bed, Austen watched her from between narrowed eyes. When she got down to her underwear, he pulled her roughly to him, making her stand in the spread of his strong thighs.
He buried his face between her breasts with a groan but he remained there for only a moment before turning his head and taking one mound into his hand.
Impatiently, he pushed aside the covering lace and claimed the nipple with his fingers, then his lips.
Jaya leaned back against his encircling arm, testing his strength, though she knew already how considerable it was, how solid.
He drew on her breast until she was nearly ready to collapse, her panties soaked already. Then he took the other one with the same delicious thoroughness.
His control was magnificent.
She’d known he had wanted her on the dance floor two hours ago and it was clear he wanted her still. He’d vibrated with that terrible need during the car ride back here, yet he would not take her quickly. He seemed to need to make her as hot and hungry as he was. And he always succeeded.
“Austen!”
He lifted his head from her engorged nipple. “What, baby?” Before she could reply, he slid his free hand into her panties. “Is that better?”
Jaya shook her head violently. “No. I want you.”
His teasing tone abruptly disappeared. “I want you too. All of you.”
He made short work of his clothes and what remained of hers, stripping her down to no more than her jewellery and the remnants of her party makeup.
Austen put one knee on the bed, his cock thick and rampant, yet he paused to admire her. “You are so beautiful.”
Jaya smiled up at him. “I was going to say the same thing about you.” She lifted her arms. “Come to me.”
He moved between her legs but not to cover her as she’d expected or wanted—simple and swift. Instead, he took his time pulling on a condom.
“Austen,” she moaned, his name both a complaint and a demand.
As he positioned his cock at the entrance of her wet pussy, lifting her ass onto the shelf of his hands, he gritted out, “You’ve teased me all night, nearly driving me out of my mind. I owe you a little of that madness in return.”
She reached out to stroke his thigh. It was rock hard. “But you don’t want to pay me back. You want to give me everything I want, don’t you?”
Years of assurance went into her statement. She knew him. He might not love her but he was in the long habit of making her happy.
“Witch,” he said, making it curse, just before he drove into her.
That single powerful thrust left her gasping. “Beast!” She wriggled, savouring the sensation of his total and complete possession. “My God, I think I can feel you in my throat.”
Austen made a sputtering sound, halfway between a laugh and a groan. “That is very descriptive…if a little dramatic.”
Jaya could tell from his tone how much he liked what she was saying.
She bit her lip. As incredible as it was having his cock fully embedded in her, she wanted more.
“Don’t rest on your laurels,” she moaned. “Fuck me.”
He moved, one stroke only, slow and thorough. “Like that?”
“Oh, yes! More.”
“Help me,” he said, in far cooler of a voice than she would have liked. She was on the edge of madness, just as he’d wanted. “Tell me how you want me to fuck you, kitten.”
A dozen sexy, silly phrases floated through her head. She knew any one of them would have done the job, letting him unleash that tight control he kept on himself and really give it to her.
For some stupid reason, she said, “Oh, Austen, fuck me like you really love me.”
He froze, the stunned look on his face no doubt mirroring her own shock at her recklessness.
Jaya lifted herself up on her elbows, her face on fire with embarrassment. “Austen, I didn’t—”
The frozen look faded, to be replaced by one she couldn’t identify. “Shut up,” he said.
His fingers bit into her ass as he began to thrust, his hips tough and unyielding, driving into her without restraint or remorse.
He fucked her, not like he loved her, but like he despised the very sight of her. Yet Jaya had never been taken so thoroughly, with such fine relentless purpose. She loved it. She hated it. It was driving her wild.
The more he pushed inside her, the more she wanted. She fell back against the pillow, letting him do all the work, letting him earn it.
He angled himself so his cock rubbed against every secret spot inside her, making exquisite friction. It was so intense that she didn’t think of her clit—it was grinding in between their bodies every few strokes and the erratic rhythm of his movements were better than any machine built to make her come could have been.
Better than a vibrator…she wondered if he would be flattered if she told him that. It was fortunate she had no breath to speak. She dared not risk it anyway.
Austen came first, his entire body quaking with the force of his orgasm. A long time passed before the shudders subsided, and he continued to move, far more slowly now, inside her.
“You didn’t come,” he said, pointing out the obvious.
“I…can’t.”
How could she come when he looked at her like he hated her?
It turned out she didn’t have a choice. Austen moved his fingers to her clit and with a few practiced rubs, he had her climaxing beneath him with the force of a runaway locomotive.
Her orgasm was all the more breath-taking for how unexpected it was. Dark and wild and a little lost with him still kneeling between her thighs, without him close to her.
Austen stared down at her, his features scored with grim satisfaction.
“Better?”
She nodded dumbly.
Her body felt wonderful as it always did with him. But her heart hurt more than it ever had before.
Jaya fell asleep with tears locked behind her eyes and woke up a short time later with Austen still awake beside her.
He lay without touching her, his eyes staring blankly up at the ceiling. “I hate the way you make me feel.”
The words fell across her naked body like a hailstorm.
“You seemed to like it at the time,” Jaya said, her throat tight.
He didn’t move. “I’m not talking about the sex. I’m talking about the jealousy, the possessiveness. The obsession I have with you. It makes me hate myself.”
And her too, apparently—but he was too restrained to say it. Even now.
“This was supposed to make it better,” she pointed out. It was impossible to keep the accusation out of her words.
He was the one who had taken them down this path. Him. Now she would have to suffer his loathing.
“It hasn’t,” he said in a dull monotone which disturbed and frightened her. “I thought it was only our future relationship that hung in the balance—”
“Only?” Jaya demanded.
He went on talking as if she hadn’t spoken.
“But there was always more at stake. My ability to commit to another woman. Your ability to put up with one man for more than six weeks at a time.”
