Knight's Mistress Page 13

  ‘No, no, don’t!’ she gasped.

  ‘Hush,’ he whispered, dipping his head, kissing her cheek. ‘You’ll like it.’

  As if on cue, a second wave of raw ecstasy overwhelmed her, spread a lethal flood of agonizing pleasure through her body, bathed her senses in a glittering rapture so dazzling it brought tears to her eyes.

  ‘Good?’ He looked pleased. ‘Try this.’

  Still cushioned in a sumptuous cloud of sensual delight, she was only half aware of the low, husky whisper. And before she could register the full impact of the comment, Dominic moved delicately against her favourite sweet spot and with a sharp cry, she climaxed violently again.

  ‘More?’

  The voice seemed to come from another universe. Distant, unintelligible, shot through with cool, blue light.

  ‘Would you like to come again?’

  She heard him clearly that time, but still trembling from aftershocks, she could only shake her head.

  ‘Sure?’ Engulfed in her silken heat, he was colossally horny, the feel of her around his cock, against his body, under his hands, unbelievably fine. Maybe he could be sure for both of them. ‘How about just a little more?’ Sliding his hands under her bottom, he slowly raised her up his hard length, then down again, gently, gently in deference to her numerous orgasms.

  She softly groaned.

  The familiar heated sound brought a smile to his lips. ‘Again?’ He lifted her effortlessly; she was small, light, and dripping wet around his dick. Always a good sign. He lowered her with slightly less deference this time.

  And her small cry warmed his chest.

  He was even more gratified moments later when she slid her arms around his neck and began to match his rhythm, he up, she down, slowly, slowly, amplifying, heightening the frenzy. Very quickly, their breathing accelerated, feeling took precedence over reason, the world narrowed to a slow, undulatory slick flesh-to-flesh see-saw of exquisite sensation. When her high, panting scream exploded, he half smiled. It never took long.

  Deciding Miss Hart had been suitably gratified, he finally indulged himself. Plunging deeper, he shut his eyes against the sudden, intense, improbable shock of impact and wondered for a moment if he was going to come instantly like some sixteen-year-old kid fucking for the first time. Christ! Panting, he managed to restrain himself for a moment because he wouldn’t allow himself to be so undisciplined. But self-willed or not, he could no longer stop the orgasmic surge building inside him and his climax broke in a teeth-clenched, mind-blowing, seemingly endless seminal flood that filled the lovely Miss Hart to overflowing. And seriously shook his composure.

  He could always, always wait.

  And mind-blowing was not, and never had been, part of his vocabulary.

  Not even when it came to money.

  And never with sex.

  Fuck.

  Exactly the point.

  He forced his mind to go blank. There was time enough for introspection once he was done with the hotter-than-hot Miss Hart in six and a half days.

  Carrying her over to a sofa because his arms were finally beginning to cramp, he lowered himself to the bright red cushions without dislodging his still rampant cock from the sweetest pussy in Hong Kong – and that was saying a lot with the current supply of marketable sex in the territory. Her head was on his shoulder, her nude form collapsed against his chest. Such lurid vulnerability was a prime aphrodisiac. The clever, competent, smart alecky Miss Hart had given herself up to him with complete abandon.

  As she rested in his arms, he lightly stroked her tousled curls. ‘Do you need anything?’ he softly murmured, feeling strangely content. ‘Food, a drink, music – a band?’

  She slowly lifted her head from his shoulder, gradually sat up, shifted ever so slightly to fully absorb his indefatigable cock and smiled. ‘What if I said yes to a band?’

  ‘I’d get one up here.’ He gently flexed his hips. ‘Do you want one?’

  A short pause ensued before her eyes opened again. ‘You’re impossibly arrogant, you know,’ she pettishly said, because he’d probably moved like that in a woman a thousand times before.

  ‘And you’re impossibly sexy,’ he said, ignoring her petulance. He ran a fingertip over her lush bottom lip, then touched it to his mouth. ‘Just tell me what you want and it’s yours.’

  ‘Keep making me feel this good, and I might just stay. How about that?’ She immediately felt his body stiffen. ‘Or did you mean something else?’ she asked with teasing innocence.

  ‘Don’t forget,’ he threatened, ‘I know how to use a whip.’

  ‘But I get to say no. That’s part of the push back.’

  ‘We’ll see about that.’

  ‘Hey, you agreed.’

  He smiled faintly. ‘Maybe you’ll ask for it. You never know.’

  ‘I won’t!’

  ‘Fine. Don’t move.’

  ‘What will you do if I move?’

  ‘Nothing, but if you do what you’re told, I’ll make you feel good.’

  ‘I feel good already.’

  ‘I’ll make you feel better.’ He tumbled her back on the couch, followed her down, spread her legs, dipped his head and offered her another version of vanilla sex.

  His mouth was just as good as his dick at getting her off. He was masterful, his tongue capable of reaching her G-spot and keeping her hovering just short of orgasm for an indefinite period of time. When her body was literally strumming and humming with bliss and she was so jacked up, she could come in under two seconds if he’d let her, she began to seriously think about staying longer than six days. But talk of staying was apparently taboo. He’d gone completely rigid when she mentioned it.

  So she was polite and didn’t bring up the subject again and he was polite about vanilla sex and it turned out to be a night of really incredible sex and multiple orgasms all around.

  Long before morning, Dominic had begun adjusting his schedule.

  He briefly questioned his sanity, but then she whispered, ‘Are you awake?’ and glancing down at the wide-eyed, pink-cheeked woman in his arms, he smiled. ‘You’re going to wear me out.’

  ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘No, you’re not.’

  ‘Well, maybe just a little.’

  He rolled over her and settled between her legs in one smooth motion. ‘You’re lucky I like you,’ he said with a grin.

  ‘Do you really?’

  He hesitated a fraction of a second.

  But her eyes were huge with entreaty.

  He knew what she wanted to hear.

  ‘Yes, really,’ he whispered.

  He might have even meant it.

  CHAPTER 11

  Shortly before seven, when they were both lying sprawled on their backs breathing hard after another explosive climax, Dominic turned his head, and said quickly before he changed his mind. ‘I have a home here.’

  Kate shot him a sideways glance and winked. ‘I already know that. You’re not the only one who has sources of information. I even know all your bank account numbers.’

  As if. But he smiled. ‘And I know yours.’

  She catapulted up into a seated position and scowled faintly. ‘You can’t.’

  ‘There’s no privacy in the world, babe.’

  ‘There better be.’

  ‘I’m not going to take any of your money, if that’s what you’re worried about.’

  ‘No, that’s not what I’m worried about,’ she grumbled. ‘You’re just too damned invasive.’

  ‘Sometimes you don’t care,’ he drawled. ‘Actually, you certainly didn’t last night.’

  ‘Very funny. Now I’m going to have to change my bank account.’

  ‘Don’t bother. Max can find anything.’

  ‘Do you mind? I have a life of my own.’

  He found the thought distasteful and that bothered him. Since when did he care about the particulars of any woman’s life? ‘Consider it forgotten,’ he smoothly said. ‘It was just on Max’s brief. I’ll toss
it,’ he lied. ‘Are we good now?’

  ‘I suppose,’ she muttered. ‘It’s mostly your money in there anyway. I had three hundred dollars in my account before Max paid me.’

  ‘If we’re done arguing, I mentioned my house for a reason. I was wondering if you’d care to spend our play date there instead of here?’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘It’s nicer than a hotel.’

  ‘You hadn’t thought of that before?’

  ‘No.’

  She smiled. ‘I’ll bet you did.’

  ‘You’d lose. I didn’t.’ He never took women to his house. Correction: women he screwed.

  ‘So something changed?’ A question only a woman would ask.

  ‘It must have.’ An answer only a man would give. A therapist might know what had changed and why but he didn’t. He just knew he didn’t want this to stop. ‘So, do you want to go? The house has great views.’

  ‘Better than these?’ She waved at the windows.

  Not better than his view with that little bouncy wave that sent an eye-catching quiver across the swell of her breasts. He smiled. ‘Definitely.’

  ‘Wow! Better? I can’t believe it!’

  ‘Word of God.’ Her artlessness always amazed him. He had never met someone like her before.

  She bit her bottom lip. ‘Are there going to be people around?’

  ‘No one you know. Don’t worry.’

  ‘That’s not what I meant.’

  ‘I only have staff there. They’re loyal and discreet. Better?’

  ‘I suppose in a way it’s better. There are tons of people in the hotel who might see us.’

  ‘Only if we venture off this floor. But I’d prefer my house.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘I don’t stay in hotels much.’

  ‘Still, I don’t know. It seems well – too …’ She was going to say ‘personal’ but that was a joke after what they had shared last night. ‘A hotel might be better,’ she equivocated. ‘You know – like neutral ground.’ She couldn’t say she didn’t want to get to know him too well because he was Mr Gorgeous with a world-class dick who could be really, really nice. And she wasn’t made of stone.

  Dominic was trying to figure out what the hell she meant. Not that he was going to ask her to bare her soul because he always avoided those kinds of conversations with women – actually with anyone. ‘I don’t know why we need neutral ground,’ he finally said, choosing his words as carefully as she had.

  ‘I didn’t mean that so much as … oh hell – I don’t know what I meant.’ She wrinkled her nose and looked like she was five.

  God, she was cute and he’d never even considered the word part of his vocabulary before. Which just went to show how crazy she made him. On the other hand, he rarely denied himself anything and he wanted her at his house.

  She looked up as the silence lengthened. ‘Are you mad at me?’

  ‘No. Thinking.’

  ‘I don’t like to be this – unstrung.’ She exhaled with a grimace. ‘I’m kinda freaking out here.’

  ‘Same here, but look, I don’t want to overanalyse this. I want you with me. I want you at my house.’

  She wrinkled her nose in another little bunny twitch. ‘After last night I probably should just say thank you and not argue about where or when,’ she said in a very small voice. ‘Because – you made me feel … well – I never knew I could feel that way. Like I was going to die if I didn’t have—’

  ‘What you want. I know.’ He smiled. ‘I can give you that.’

  ‘That’s the good part,’ she said, with a twitch of a smile. ‘About those rules, though.’ She looked at him from under her lashes. ‘There are things I won’t do.’

  ‘Then we won’t do them,’ he said with painstaking calm, surprised at how much he wanted this, not sure what he’d do if she refused. ‘You’ll like my house.’ His tone was deliberately casual. ‘It’s a Victorian monstrosity, but as they say, charming. It even has a turret.’

  ‘A turret?’ Her eyes lit up with delight. ‘Why didn’t you say so?’

  A lift of his brows. ‘Because?’

  ‘Every little girl wants a room in a turret.’

  He smiled. ‘Interesting.’

  ‘You’re a man,’ she said, her smile full of sass now. ‘What would you know about turrets?’

  ‘Why don’t we have drinks up there, watch the ships go by.’

  His voice was sweet temptation, his gaze brazenly provocative. She could feel the flush rising on her cheeks.

  ‘We could sleep up there if you like. I’ll have a bed brought up.’ Or whatever it takes.

  A short silence.

  Then a boat horn trumpeted far below, the sound muted by 117 storeys.

  ‘Compromise?’

  ‘Certainly.’ A superb negotiator, he knew better than to refuse.

  ‘If I’m uncomfortable, we’ll leave.’

  He liked how she said ‘We’. He liked even more that her compromise didn’t involve reneging on the six days. ‘Agreed,’ he affably said.

  ‘Very well.’ She took a small breath. ‘I’m good.’

  He didn’t say, ‘I would have taken you there no matter what.’ He said instead with exquisite courtesy and a winning smile, ‘Thank you.’

  As if she actually could have said no, she silently admitted, when Dominic Knight dispensed pleasure beyond the limits of any measure known to man. And not just sexual pleasure – the full gamut of creature comforts and joy.

  ‘They’re bringing up coffee at eight, along with some other food I ordered. Do you want anything?’ He had what he wanted; he was willing to indulge her every whim. He smiled. ‘Bacon sandwiches, perhaps?’

  ‘Bacon sandwiches sound wonderful. I’m starved. You worked me like a field hand last night.’ With all the vexing issues of wanting someone too much dismissed, she stretched lazily like a cat in the sun, satisfied and content.

  Don’t touch, he warned himself, as she sensuously arched her back and her large, luxurious breasts rose in flagrant display. Not yet. ‘We could argue about who worked whom harder,’ he said with a smile. ‘But I enjoyed myself, Miss Hart. I just want you to know.’

  ‘Thank you, Mr Knight,’ she said, lowering her lashes coyly in play. ‘I thoroughly enjoyed myself as well.’

  He chuckled. ‘Very tempting, Miss Hart. Virtuous maids are in short supply.’

  She gave him a seductive little glance. ‘Please be gentle, sir.’

  He dragged in a breath, slowly blew it out, reined in his libido. ‘We’ll have to wait on this game. Unfortunately, I have too many calls to make, too many messages to retrieve. And,’ he added with a grin, ‘if you don’t mind my mentioning it, you could use a shower.’

  ‘It’s not my fault,’ she said with an answering grin. ‘You were the one who came in me all night.’

  ‘With great delight, I’ll have you know.’ Giving in to temptation, he rolled on his side, slid his hand between her legs, slipped two fingers up her sleek cleft. ‘Ummm … nice and wet.’ He shut his eyes, called on every shred of will-power he possessed, then rolled away with a grudging sigh. ‘You have an incredibly tempting pussy, Miss Hart. But I’ve probably forty emails by now that need answering. So duty calls.’ Throwing his legs over the side of the bed, he grabbed his phone from the bedside table and came to his feet. ‘Let’s say breakfast in my suite at eight.’ He started to walk away. ‘It’s the corner one down the hall.’

  ‘Would you care to join me in the shower?’ She wanted him every minute, every second. It was awesome and terrifying.

  He turned and glanced up from scrolling down his messages. ‘Next time.’ His voice was distracted, his gaze returning to his phone. ‘Dammit. I thought I dealt with that yesterday. If you’ll excuse me.’ And he strode away, indifferent to his nudity, the phone to his ear.

  *

  He called his driver next and made plans to have them driven to the launch. ‘I’ll call you back when I know the exact time.’

  A
fter that, he spent fifteen minutes dealing with the most pressing of his messages.

  Then he called the concierge for a number and at seven-twenty he made one of the calls he needed to make before they left the hotel.

  ‘I apologize, Mrs Hawthorne, for ringing you at home so early in the morning, but I have a rather urgent request. I’m Dominic Knight. If you could accommodate me, I’d be most grateful.’

  It came as no surprise when he heard a warm, cultivated English accent say, ‘How may I help you?’ Money always talked.

  ‘I understand your shop is the best in the territory,’ he pleasantly said. ‘And I need your help. I have a guest staying at my house and I’d like to supplement her wardrobe. Let’s see.’ He glanced down at the open folder on the dining room table. ‘She’s five foot five, 110 pounds – that’s about … what, fifty kilos – and – ah – here it is … she’s an American size eight or nine. Does that help? She has very large breasts, by the way, so bring whatever you have in those sizes.’

  ‘I’m not quite sure what you want. Could you be more precise?’ Her male clients were generally unaware of anything other than they wanted something black and risqué.

  ‘Whatever women wear under their clothes, Mrs Hawthorne. You’d know that better than I.’

  ‘A full selection of lingerie, then?’ That was unusual.

  ‘Yes, and some nightwear too. Robes, pyjamas with buttons. Bring whatever you have in your shop. I’ll buy it all. And come alone. I don’t want any gossip.’

  He didn’t ask about price, but price probably wasn’t an issue to someone who said, ‘I’ll buy it all.’ ‘When would you like me there?’ Mrs Hawthorne inquired. No one in Hong Kong had to ask where Dominic Knight lived. He owned the original governor’s mansion on The Peak.

  ‘Say ten thirty? Is that time enough for you to collect the things we need?’

  We. If her livelihood didn’t depend on complete discretion, that word would have been broadcast around Hong Kong within the hour. Dominic Knight was notorious not only for his wealth and the latitude of his vice, but for his lack of interest in normal female relationships since his wife’s death. ‘I’ll be there at ten thirty’ Anxious to meet this paragon of womanhood who had wrought such a major upheaval.