Seducing the Enemy Read online

  “You’re a bast—Oh!”

  Whitney stops berating me when I suck one of her sweet berry nipples past my lips and take it deep. I slide my tongue over the crest, swirl around it, nip gently, then draw it to the roof of my mouth and pull without mercy.

  The sounds she makes are both desperate and animal. When I release the tip into the waiting vise of my fingers, I capture the other orally, alternately soothing and torturing it, too.

  She squirms and twists, gasping and fisting the sheets. Unconsciously, she parts her knees wider like she burns for me alone. That sends my desire rocketing.

  Fuck, she’s going to my head.

  “Princess…” I murmur against her glistening nipple before switching back to the first and giving it another suckle and jerk. “More?”

  “Yes.”

  “Am I still a bastard?” I scrape the edge of her nipple with my teeth.

  Her gasp sharpens. “Yes.”

  “Do you want me to give you an orgasm?”

  Whitney’s eyes slide shut as she thrashes under me, her voice and neck straining. “Yes. Please.”

  “Sir?”

  “Yes, Sir.” Even through clenched teeth, she sounds breathy. “Please give me an orgasm.”

  “Better,” I praise, but I don’t make any move to grant her wish, just keep at her nipples.

  I’m enjoying my power over her, I confess. Not simply because I’m tormenting her—though that’s part of it—but because she’s so close to admitting she wants me, too.

  I’ve fucking fantasized about this more times than I can count.

  “Will you?” she pants.

  “Probably. Eventually.” I shrug. “We’ll see.”

  Her keening cry of demand is music to my ears. As I curl my tongue around her nipples again, one after the other, I let the agonized sound crawl into my brain and fill the space between my ears so I can replay it over and over.

  “Jett…” she whines. “Don’t do this.”

  “Do what?”

  “Deny me.” She lifts herself enough to stare at me, eyes soft and pleading. “Deny us.”

  Her reply makes my heart stop. I feel my resolve wavering.

  I’m so close to stripping her bare. Not physically. Getting her naked was easy. But emotionally, in the way I need her most? Yes.

  God knows I’m ridiculously hard for her. But it’s more—far more. I’m fast coming to a fork in the road. What I choose next may dictate my entire future.

  Revenge or Whitney?

  She reaches for me, pressing her palm between my legs. I have to bite back a groan. But it gets ten times worse when she curls her fingers over my aching ridge.

  Why the hell didn’t I take my pants off?

  “Don’t play games,” she implores.

  “We’re already playing, princess.” Brow raised, I grab her wrist and tug it away. “Right now, I have the power. The more you insist, the less likely I am to give in to you.”

  “Because you’re vindictive?”

  If I’m being honest? Because I’m susceptible. Because the minute I hear her scream for me, I’ll probably rush to get inside her—heedless of the consequences—and meld myself with her. Because when she’s near me, I have to fight for every ounce of my control.

  Because I know if I don’t have my head screwed on straight, my brain won’t be the organ making my decisions.

  “Think what you want. I only care what you do. Put your hands on the mattress, palms flat. Now.”

  She scowls. “Who are you? Not the Jett I used to know.”

  It’s a valid question I’d rather avoid answering. “Ah, guilt. Sadly for you, it’s a trite, ineffective response. Surrender, Whitney.”

  “No.”

  “Then we’re both wasting our time. I’ll call Valentin. He’ll drive you home. Our deal will be null and void.” It takes Herculean effort to back off the bed and stare at her, naked, restrained, and aroused, knowing our lust—and probably more—is mutual.

  I can’t force her to give herself to me; I know that. Just like I know I’m probably wasting my time. But Whitney is the single biggest regret of my life. Giving up now is the last thing I want. She’s leaving me little choice.

  Because she’s moved on.

  Biting back a sigh of defeat, I turn away.

  “Wait.” She grapples to her knees and grabs my arms. “Don’t go.”

  As much as I’d like to sprawl her across the bed once more, urge her flat on her back, and tunnel inside her, I can’t—at least not yet. “Your pride has no place in our bed.”

  “And yours does?”

  “No.” If I want to keep her, I not only have to meet her halfway, I have to give her the kind of reassurance she needs. “If you haven’t figured it out, you’re here because I want you more than forty million dollars. You’re here because you haunt me. Because there hasn’t been a day gone by that I haven’t ached for you. Did you need to hear that?”

  She blinks as if my blunt honesty startles her. “Oh.”

  “And unless you’ve completely changed, I know you too well to believe you came here simply for the money.”

  “I didn’t.” Her whisper is so soft I can barely hear it.

  “Did you come to fight me?”

  She shakes her head. “I fight you because you terrify me.”

  That deflates what’s left of my righteous anger. “I said I’d never hurt you and I meant it.”

  “That’s not what I’m afraid of.” She lets out a trembling breath.

  Now I understand. Whether she likes it or not, she never purged me from her heart. “Be honest. Why did you come?”

  Whitney softly blushes. “I think you know.”

  I finally do. And I’m so fucking relieved.

  Fighting a smile, I climb on the bed again, forcing her to her back and hovering over her as she lies bare and vulnerable. “I won’t lie to you. I plan to exploit your feelings.”

  “I know.”

  And that’s why she’s terrified. But it’s a two-way street. Maybe she hasn’t figured that out yet, but I doubt it will take her long to realize that no matter how many years have passed, how far I’ve traveled, or how many hookups I’ve used to forget her—it was all futile.

  “I understand.”

  “And?”

  “Let’s try this again. Do you want me to kiss you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you want me to touch you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you want me to give you an orgasm?”

  An emphatic nod accompanies her response. “Yes.”

  “Are you going to surrender your body and will to me?” When she hesitates, I press. “Lie to me if you want. But don’t lie to yourself. If you don’t give in now, won’t you spend the rest of your life wondering what if?”

  Her eyes slide shut, as if she can’t quite face the answer. She looks like she’s fighting tears. “Yes.”

  Finally, she’s being really, truly honest.

  “Then offer me your mouth.”

  She closes her eyes, curls her arms around my neck, and lifts her face to me.

  I’ve waited nearly three thousand empty days—and nights—for this. If my life depended on resisting her invitation, I’d be utterly doomed.

  With a rush of breath, I bend and slant my mouth over hers, losing myself in the sweet spice of her kiss, in the whispered promise of what might be between us.

  When I finally back away long moments later, my heart pounds. My breaths are unsteady. “Good. Offer me your nipples.”

  It takes her a minute to puzzle out my meaning. Impatience nearly rubs me raw before she finally cups her breasts and lifts them to me.

  “That’s it. Who do those belong to?”

  “You.”

  “Yes.” I fall to my elbows like a man kneeling at the altar of her nipples and take a stiff one in my mouth again, sucking, laving, tasting, tonguing, and tugging until Whitney claws at me, urgent for more.

  With a final lingering lick, I
back away from the hard, glossy crests. “Now offer me your pussy.”

  Her breath catches. She bites her lip as she meets my desperate stare—then flares her knees wider and raises her hips to me.

  Oh, thank god, yes.

  I can’t even pretend to be removed or restrained. I drag my lips down her body without any teasing or finesse, with one imperative in mind.

  To get her on my tongue.

  Quickly, I wriggle down until I wedge my shoulders between her spread legs and lie on my belly, inches away from the succulent nirvana. She’s swollen and rosy and pouting. When I part her with my thumbs and my gaze devours her most secret flesh, it’s as if I’ve opened a whole new world. Yes, I’ve seen a woman’s pussy before—lots of them. But this is the one I’ve craved for too many years.

  My nostrils flare. I bite back a groan of need at her hard red clit silently begging me.

  “Jett?”

  “Do you tingle?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you ache?”

  “Yes. I want you so much I’m cramping and throbbing. Please…”

  If she’s switched tactics and decided to use my own weakness against me, she couldn’t have played her hand any better.

  “Fuck.” I grip her thighs and lift her to my hungry mouth, needing to worship her.

  It seems like I’ve waited millions of barren minutes, but I’m finally pressing my greedy mouth against her pussy and dragging my tongue through her folds. Then I suck in her clit, drawing on her, pulling and working her stiff bud until she moans.

  The second her spicy-sweet flavor coats my relentless tongue and registers in my brain, all my grand plans to toy with her half the night, then make her pant and scratch her way through a savage blow job before I ramp her up again—only to refuse her relief until she begs me to fuck her however I like—all fall away.

  Now I only want her to surrender to the pleasure I give her…and the possibilities of our future.

  “Come for me, princess.” I swipe my way through her furrow again, drowning in her taste, desperate for her. “Come.”

  Under me, she grips my hair until my scalp tingles, gyrating and mewling, thighs parting more, cunt turning sweeter. “Jett…”

  “Do it.” I suck on her clit, tongue working the stone-hard tip. “Give in.”

  “Jett,” she gasps, the sound rising another octave as her spine twists and her head falls back.

  I glance up at the mirror above. The beautiful agony on her face undoes me. “Goddamn it, you’re mine.”

  Relentlessly, methodically, I dismantle her with my touch. I’m never going to get enough of her. Ever. Hell, I’m still half-dressed, and I feel dangerously close to coming undone.

  Digging my fingers into her, I press her even more tightly against my mouth and work a pair of fingers into her fist-tight sheath, already tightening and clamping around my digits.

  “Jett!”

  I barely have a moment to relish the heady broken cry of her surrender before her entire body jolts and shudders. Then she’s clutching, clasping, and breaking around me. Her nipples peak. Hips to cheeks, her body flushes a splashing rosy red. Her lips part, and her eyes flash open.

  Our gazes meet in the overhead mirror.

  I’ve got her. We both know it.

  I ride her to the end of her orgasm, until she’s struggling to recover her breath and her body turns limp, until she sighs sweetly and reaches for me.

  I can’t wait another second to claim her.

  Goddamn it, I hope she’s the last woman I have sex with for the rest of my life.

  I crawl up her sated body, taking advantage of her spread legs to fit my hips between them. With one hand, I cup her nape and fit our mouths together, reveling in the fact that her kiss no longer holds fight, just sweet, open acceptance. I work my free hand between us, make quick work of my zipper, then get my cock free just enough to align my crest to her still-pulsing opening.

  Her eyes flutter open. Worry crosses her face. “Jett.”

  I grit my teeth. I’ve waited eight years to be inside her, but I can tell she needs to say something. “What, princess?”

  “Gently.” She swallows. “Please.”

  Everything—both the anger and the passion—is so hot between us. And all this time, she’s fought back. Now she’s asking me for mercy. Why? If I wasn’t so rabid to be inside her, I might be able to apply two brain cells toward finding the answer. But I can’t.

  “All right, I will. For you.”

  “Thank you.” She smooths her hands up my arms, then cups my shoulders as she spreads her legs wider in silent invitation.

  Jesus, how am I supposed to maintain any self-control?

  I’m still trying to figure that out when I sink the head of my cock inside her.

  And I run into resistance.

  Whitney isn’t merely tight, she’s… I freeze. No. That’s not possible. There’s no way.

  “Jett?”

  “You’re not…” But she seemingly is. “Still a…virgin?”

  Slowly, she bites her lips. Then she nods.

  Holy shit.

  And yet, she came here to spend a week with me, knowing full well I intended to fuck her?

  That small, problem-solving corner of my brain is working overtime to figure out if that means what I desperately want it to. The rest of me has shoved off all mental protective gear.

  I’m dying to be her first.

  If I play this right, will I be her only?

  At that notion, my heart thuds and thumps. Waiting doesn’t feel like an option. Sure, we could talk, but I don’t want to give her any reason—or opportunity—to get away.

  “Oh, princess.” I nudge inside her, incrementally working my way through her slick clasp until I lunge deep into her with one softly insistent thrust. Then I rock my hips forward, pressing as far into her as I can. “Now you’re mine.”

  Finally.

  If she has any objection, I don’t want to hear it in this moment. At least this once, I want the fuck of my fantasies, where I’m deep inside her, bareback, for the first time, and she’s with me, thrust for thrust, cry for cry, all the way to the scratching, hoarse-throated, cataclysmic end.

  She lets out a soft, shuddering breath, her eyes sliding half shut.

  “Right?” I prompt as I withdraw from her so slowly I groan the question.

  “Yes,” she breathes.

  “Tell me who you belong to.”

  She doesn’t hesitate. “You, Jett.”

  “That’s right.” I glide back in and set up a rhythm I suspect will unravel her restraint. “How long have you belonged to me?”

  Her lashes flutter open. I see tears swimming there. “Always.”

  That’s it. With one trembling admission, there’s no denying she still owns my heart, too.

  I dreamed up this scheme to indulge my every desperate desire, to show her what she was missing, to purge her from my system once and for all.

  She’s felled me instead. Now, my only hope is to fight to keep her.

  “And I’m yours.” I press inside her again, deeper, deeper, where she’s so fucking sweet. Where I want to live. Where no man has been.

  “Jett…”

  I hear the pleading in her voice. My thrusts pick up speed, and she rewards me with a gasp. Her fingers curl around my shoulders. Her thighs do the same to my hips, as if she can hold me against her and keep me here forever.

  I sink deeper into Whitney. Not literally, since I’m already as deep into her as I can be. But figuratively, viscerally, emotionally. And I drown. If she’s how I’m going to die, I’ll go gratefully and willingly, ending my time on earth a happy man.

  I grip her hip with one hand and grab a fistful of her hair with the other, forcing her to look right into my eyes. “I never stopped loving you.”

  The tears spill over. “I never stopped, either.”

  Oh, fuck. That sends my heart careening.

  I bang into her again, each stroke faster and more in
sistent than the last. “You really love me?”

  Whitney hesitates, then she nods and lets out a low moan full of need and pain.

  “Answer me,” I bark. “Say it.”

  “I love you,” she cries out, holding me tighter, pressing kisses across my shoulder and into my neck.

  That’s all I needed to hear. “I love you, too.”

  And I’m never letting her go. I don’t give two fucks who she’s engaged to, she’s marrying me. And I hope like hell she’s not on birth control because I’m going to do my level best to get a ring on her finger and a baby in her belly this week.

  She’s never getting away again.

  “Oh, princess.” I shuttle into her faster, faster. My lungs work like a bellows.

  “Jett!” she screams seconds before her pussy grips me like a vise, her body jerks, and a low groan tears from her throat.

  I keep pace, doing my best to prolong her pleasure, but I can’t hold out anymore, not physically. Orgasm is going to run me over, ruin me, and it will be the most delicious end ever.

  But I can’t resist emotionally, either. Whitney has my heart; she always has. I’ve been lying to myself about that for far too long.

  As she grips me tighter, the wave crests over me, too. I’m suspended in a pleasure unlike anything I’ve ever felt. Lights flash behind my eyes. There’s a buzzing in my brain. Every part of me from top to toe pings electric. I clutch Whitney and let go, pouring every bit of myself into her.

  There’s no denying it now; I’m hers forever.

  And there’s no going back.

  Clinging and kissing, we come down together, hearts racing, breaths harsh. As if by some unspoken understanding, our gazes connect.

  We both know everything has changed.

  “Did that really just happen?” she whispers. “Did you tell me you love me?”

  A little grin flits at my mouth. Honestly, I haven’t smiled much in years, and it feels good. “Yeah. As we were having sex.”

  “And it’s true?”

  “One-hundred percent.”

  Her lips curl up, brightening her expression. “Wow.”

  “Wow.”

  “So that’s what all the fuss is about?”

  “You could say that.” Honestly, what we shared was so extra, it was news to me, too. “You waited for me?”