In the Dark--A Sexy Billionaire Romance Read online

  I imagined it was Eli’s hand. Eli going down on his knees in front of my chair, watching as he touched me, the focus of his complete and utter attention.

  He was silent. I couldn’t even hear his breathing. But I knew he was looking. I could feel him watching. Were his eyes golden with heat? Was he desperate to touch me? Was he still hard and aching? Or was this little show I was putting on for him leaving him cold?

  A sliver of doubt wound through me, cutting through the heat. Perhaps this wasn’t sexy for him after all. Perhaps this was like reading and maths and I wasn’t doing it right. Perhaps I was making a fool of myself after all.

  My hand faltered, the wonderful, warm pleasure beginning to slide away.

  ‘Did I say you could stop?’ His voice sounded vaguely shocking, rasping and rough. ‘You can answer me.’

  ‘No,’ I said huskily.

  ‘Then why did you?’

  ‘I...’ I didn’t want to tell him the truth. I didn’t want to reveal myself so completely. Then again, I was naked. How much more revealing could I get? Plus, there was something freeing about him thinking I didn’t know who he was. Anonymity without actually being anonymous.

  This night wouldn’t come again and when it was over we’d leave with him believing I thought he was a stranger and me getting to have him as my ultimate fantasy. He’d go back to his company, doing whatever it was he did, and I’d get on with expanding my tattoo business. And, if there was a time when we met again, we’d never speak of this. We’d both pretend it had never happened.

  Really, what would I lose if I told him the truth? Nothing.

  ‘Well?’ The word was a whip-crack, making my breath catch.

  ‘I couldn’t hear you,’ I said hesitantly. ‘And I didn’t know if you liked what I was doing. I thought you might not find it sexy or I might be...doing it wrong or...’ I trailed off, cringing inside at how pathetic it sounded.

  He didn’t speak, the silence gathering thick and hot.

  Then he said, ‘It isn’t possible for a woman stroking herself to orgasm to not be either erotic or sexy, understand me? And I know—I’ve had a lot of women. And how can you do it wrong? The only way for it to be wrong is if you don’t get any pleasure out of it.’

  A tight sensation I hadn’t realised was there eased in my chest somehow. Stupid to care so much, but there was nothing I could do about it. I’d always cared about what Eli thought of me. Always.

  ‘I... I know,’ I said huskily. ‘But I...’

  ‘Did you enjoy what you were doing? It certainly seemed as if you were.’

  ‘Yes,’ I admitted.

  ‘Then what does it matter if I find you sexy? The important thing is whether or not you got pleasure out of it.’

  How could I tell him that it mattered because he mattered? I couldn’t, of course, not without revealing that I knew who he was.

  ‘I just...want to be beautiful. I want to be sexy. I want...’ I stopped, breathing fast, staring into the darkness of the blindfold. ‘I want you to be turned on by me. I want you to be desperate for me.’

  ‘Why? You really value the opinion of a complete and utter fucking stranger?’

  ‘You’re the only man who’s ever made me feel this way.’ In this I was able to tell him the complete truth. ‘Of course your opinion matters.’

  ‘Me?’ His voice had deepened, impossibly so. ‘There must have been other—’

  ‘No.’ My turn to interrupt now. ‘There hasn’t.’

  ‘What the fuck makes me so special?’ He sounded almost...angry. ‘You don’t even know me.’

  The tension that had been there before, the cold sliver of doubt, was sliding away, though I wasn’t sure why. Maybe because of his anger. People were only ever angry about stuff that was important to them, and if he was angry about being special to me then it meant that he cared about it. That, for whatever reason, it mattered to him.

  For the first time I wanted to push up my blindfold and see his face, look into his eyes. Try to understand what was going on here, because something was. I was sure of it.

  But I didn’t.

  ‘I don’t know why you’re special,’ I lied. But I didn’t lie about the next part. The next part was absolute truth. ‘I just know I haven’t felt this way about any other man before. Not once.’

  He was silent, but this time I could feel frustration and anger seething in the air around me. And something else too: hunger.

  The silence lengthened, deepened. And once again I became aware of the way I was sitting with my thighs spread, the dragging ache between my legs becoming acute.

  ‘Keep going,’ he said at last, roughly. ‘And think only of what I told you to do, nothing else. I want that hand on your pussy. I want to see you getting hot and wet. I want to see you desperate to come. And I do not, under any circumstances, want to see you stop. Tell me that you understand.’

  It was obvious to me, now I was paying attention to his voice, that there was a thickened heat in it, melted honey coating all that gravel. And that, even more than what he’d said, made the doubt slip away entirely.

  He was turned on. He really was.

  I moved my hands, gently easing one finger inside me, then another. I was so wet there wasn’t any resistance, and I gasped softly at the wave of pleasure that swamped me at the feeling. My hips shifted on the seat, rocking gently as I slid my fingers in and out slowly, before getting a little faster.

  ‘Good girl,’ he murmured. ‘That’s what I like to see.’

  God, it felt so good, knowing he was watching. That he was staring at me. It made everything feel amazing.

  My eyes squeezed closed even tighter and I increased the pressure, pleasure sweeping through me and moving out, an unstoppable wave. I was slick and hot now and the cool air on my skin only intensified the sensation.

  Eli, I whispered in my head. Oh, my God, Eli...

  My toes were curling in my sandals, the orgasm bearing down on me. I bucked my hips, my fingers pressing harder.

  And then suddenly a hot, strong grip clamped around my wrists and my hands were pulled away. ‘No,’ I gasped, my body trembling, unsatisfied and aching almost to the point of pain.

  But he was too strong.

  He transferred both of my wrists into one powerful hand, holding them down on the arm of the chair next to my thigh. And I felt the brush of his fingers on my inner thigh.

  Oh, my God. He was going to touch me. Eli was going to touch me, and I knew if he did I was going to come apart.

  ‘Oh, yes,’ I groaned aloud, unable to help myself. ‘Please...’

  He didn’t speak, his touch light as it stroked down my inner thigh, tracing my slick flesh. There was pressure on my clit, and I thought I would come straight away, but I didn’t. He knew how to touch me without sending me over the edge, damn him.

  I lifted my hips, pressing against that pressure.

  ‘More,’ I murmured. ‘More. I need...more.’

  ‘You’re thinking of someone, aren’t you?’ His rough voice was close, his breath on my throat. He must have been leaning over me, watching my face even as one of his hands played between my legs, the other holding my wrists fast. ‘Tell me who.’

  CHAPTER TEN

  Elias

  THERE WAS PERSPIRATION on her forehead above the blindfold, tiny strands of black hair plastered to her skin and perspiration on her upper lip and throat too. The most beautiful flush extended from her face, down her throat and ran over her chest, heating up all those stars scattered across her.

  The scent of her arousal was heavy in the air, a sweet musk that had my heart pounding and the blood in my veins rushing. I desperately wanted to bury my face between those pretty thighs and taste her, make her jerk and writhe, make her beg in that gorgeous, husky voice.

  I’d had no conception of just how sexy I would find her when
she’d walked in. Of just how badly I would end up wanting her.

  Of how much difference it would make to be with a woman I knew, rather than the blindfolded strangers I preferred to use.

  Oh, she didn’t know me, but I knew her. And when she said she wanted me I knew it wasn’t an act. She hadn’t said it because that was what I wanted to hear or because she was hoping for a tip. That was the problem with profiles and the women I hired. They provided a service and they wanted tips. They could see my profile, they knew what I liked, and they acted accordingly. They never faked their orgasms, of course, and I could tell by their physical reactions that they genuinely enjoyed what I did to them.

  But I knew that behind their blindfolds they were thinking of someone else. Fantasising about someone else. It wasn’t me that that they wanted, not really. I’d always thought that didn’t matter. That as long as they said the words I didn’t care. I didn’t particularly want them, either, so why would they want me? We were both getting something out of it, but not together, which was the way I wanted it.

  No complications. No messy emotions.

  Yet it was different with Vee. When she’d stopped touching herself and told me that she wanted me to find her sexy, that my opinion of her mattered and that she wanted me, I hadn’t been able to shake the feeling that this time it was actually me that she wanted.

  No other man had made her feel this way, she’d said, which I’d thought was impossible. She was so sexy and interesting that surely there had to have been at least one? What about the one she’d come here to forget? But she hadn’t mentioned him. No, it was me that made her feel that way. Me that had made her take her clothes off and touch herself in front of a stranger.

  I couldn’t think what I’d done to make her feel that way about me, but the fact remained that I’d done something. And that her little confession had made me even harder than I already was.

  She wasn’t lying, either, or at least not about getting aroused—not when her pussy was so slick and wet and so hot she just about burned my fingers.

  Was it me, though? Or was she thinking of someone else? Was she fantasising about some other guy touching her the way all the rest of the women I bought did?

  It shouldn’t have mattered. I didn’t want to be fucking special. But I couldn’t shake the hungry, possessive feeling in my gut. The one that liked being the only man who’d made her feel like this.

  I’d never thought of myself as a possessive kind of guy—I didn’t let myself feel strongly enough about anything to be possessive—but I was feeling pretty fucking possessive now.

  She’s always been yours, though. Hasn’t she?

  I ignored that thought. She was no one’s but her own, still less mine.

  All the same, she was fantasising about someone, and I wanted to know who it was for reasons I couldn’t have explained.

  Her lower lip was red and slick from her teeth worrying it, her breath rushing in and out. And her body moved restlessly on the chair, her hips lifting insistently against my hand. But I kept my thumb pressed to her clit, providing her with just enough sensation to keep her on the brink yet without friction to push her over.

  I could keep a woman on that fine line for as long as I chose, making sure it remained pleasure and not pain—or at least, not unless she wanted it to become pain—drawing out that pleasure for as long as possible.

  ‘You,’ she panted. ‘I’m thinking about you.’

  No, that couldn’t be right. They never thought about me. I was sure of it. Not that I cared. They could think of anyone they fucking wanted as long as they were enjoying it.

  Yet the way she’d said it...

  ‘You’re lying.’ I kept my grip tight around her wrists, holding them down on the arm of the chair as I feathered the fingertips of my free hand down one thigh. Her skin was smooth, very warm and silky. Christ, I’d always loved touching a woman.

  She writhed on the chair and it was the sexiest thing I’d ever seen in my entire life. How could she think that she wasn’t beautiful? That she would somehow touch herself wrongly? I couldn’t understand it.

  Then again, Vee hadn’t had many people in her life who’d seen what a talented person she was. How gifted she was when it came to art, and how perceptive when it came to other people. She’d only ever had people tell her what she was doing wrong, that she’d never measure up. Either that or they’d ignored her completely.

  It made the sympathy that sometimes stirred inside me stir again, creaky and rusty with disuse like an old gate that nobody opened.

  ‘I’m not lying.’ Her hips twisted, following my hand. ‘I’m thinking of you watching me. Touching me.’

  ‘You can think about any guy doing that.’ I had no idea why I was pushing this. What did it matter what guy she thought of? ‘It doesn’t have to be me.’

  ‘I know that.’ Her back arched as I varied the pressure on her clit just the tiniest bit. ‘But...it just...is you.’

  ‘You don’t even know what I look like.’

  ‘That doesn’t matter, though. Isn’t that what you said?’ She let out a shaken breath, her cheeks bright red now. ‘Please, ace... I want...’

  ‘I know what you want, but a “please” isn’t going to cut it.’ I leaned down, closer now, inhaling her scent, warm and musky and so fucking erotic.

  The blindfold was inches away and I could imagine those deep, midnight-blue eyes staring at me from behind it. Christ, if she only knew who had their finger on her clit, who was leaning over her like this, torturing her...

  For some reason that made it even more intense, even more arousing. Which was wrong, but right now I didn’t care.

  ‘Why me, little girl?’ I asked softly. ‘What about me has got you so fucking hot?’

  She was shivering, her whole body trembling as I held her on the edge. ‘Your...your voice is so s-sexy. It’s all rough and deep and it’s like I can...feel it in my chest.’ She took a panting breath. ‘And you smell so good. Your aftershave makes me want to press my face against your neck and breathe you in. But it’s not just your a-aftershave. There’s something more... You smell like someone reassuring and I l-like it.’

  My voice? She like my fucking ruined voice? And my aftershave? I’d had that comment before and, yeah, it was expensive, which was why it smelled good. But reassuring? No one else had said that to me. No one.

  A strange feeling settled inside me, one I didn’t recognise.

  ‘And you’re p-protective,’ she went on. ‘You got angry when I wanted to stay and you tried to send me away. You didn’t want me putting myself at risk.’

  It was true. But I’d also done it to protect myself.

  I didn’t know what to say to that. I hadn’t had a clear vision of myself since losing everything I’d had. My health, my looks, my family, my entire fucking future. Every second since then I’d been taking it a moment at a time, building each minute on each minute until it become an hour. And the hours became days, the days months, and so on. Until I’d built a new future for myself. A future that was all about me and what I wanted, not one based on other people’s expectations.

  These days I was no one’s meal ticket but my own.

  But, in spite of the blindfold, Vee had seen me anyway. The ghost of the man I’d once been. Perceptive woman.

  Sadly for her, I wasn’t that man any longer.

  My cock ached and she was so fucking beautiful. So fucking sexy.

  I didn’t want to talk about this any more. I’d lost my taste for it. Instead all I wanted was to immerse myself in her scent and her taste and her heat. To be blind to everything else but sensation, the way she was.

  So I let her go and pushed myself away from her.

  She was still for a second, breathing fast and hard. ‘Ace? You’re...not going to leave me like this are you?’

  I dropped to my knees in front of the chair
, the desperate note in her voice like the most pure aphrodisiac. ‘No,’ I said roughly.

  She sat in front of me, legs hooked over the arms of the chair, her thighs spread wide. Her pussy was pink and slick and glistening in the spotlight overhead.

  Little Vee was not so little any more. She was all woman and I wanted a taste.

  I slid my hands beneath the luscious curves of her ass, lifting her slightly, loving how she shuddered. Then I leaned in, inhaling her scent before breathing out, and making sure she felt it.

  Her whole body was trembling, as if she was standing on the edge of a cliff, caught on that fine balance between falling over it and stumbling back.

  The most exquisite place to be.

  ‘Put your hands on the arms of the chair,’ I ordered, not taking my gaze from that sweet little tangle of black curls. ‘And hold on. Do not, under any circumstances, touch me.’

  ‘O-okay,’ she stuttered, her voice raw. Her hands reached for the arms and held on, her knuckles white. I didn’t move for a second, enjoying the agonising moments of anticipation, her quickened breathing, the fine tremble in her thighs.

  I loved this part, where a woman waited for me, not knowing when I would touch her, taste her. Her awareness on nothing but me and what I would do. Because this gave them the most powerful orgasms. The ones they’d remember for months to come, after the night was over. They’d remember the stranger in a hotel room who had made them come harder than any man ever had or ever would.

  The stranger who wasn’t Elias Hart, scarred and broken but a hugely successful billionaire.

  A faceless man. Nameless. A man who could be anyone and no one. A man with no past and no future. With no expectations but the ones he determined for himself.

  In this moment, I could be whoever I wanted to be.

  And this time, I chose to be the man who made her come. I lowered my head and covered that pretty little pussy with my mouth.

  She arched in the chair as if I’d electrocuted her, her whole body going stiff, a cry of agonised pleasure escaping her. The taste of her orgasm flooded my mouth, honey and salt mixed with a tartness that I hadn’t expected.