by Lora Leigh
He didn’t bloody well think so, Ian snarled silently as he stalked up the main staircase, turning down the hall to Courtney’s bedroom. The little vixen was pushing him, and she knew it, she was doing it deliberately. He wasn’t a fool. He had watched the subtle signs she had put off for the past week, the heat in her dark, sexy eyes, the way her body seemed to soften, and arousal flushed her face.
He could feel that same heat growing in his body, a hard, steady simmer that he feared would boil out of control with the least provocation. She had no idea what she was tempting. She couldn’t understand the sexuality that drove him, the need he had to dominate—sexually—any female he bedded. It wasn’t just a need, it was a hunger, a driving, lascivious greed he had no intention of denying himself.
He clenched his teeth at the thought of her, so small and rounded, screaming in pleasure and pain as he spread the perfect curves of her ass and watched his cock invade that sweet, tiny hole. Or holding her thighs wide, her mouth filled with his dick as he watched another take her, fill her. Sharing her, seeing pleasure suffuse her body as she was driven past any limits she could have imagined.
Damn her. He wouldn’t take her. Not him.
He deliberately chose women who knew well the games they were facing. Women with experience, who knew the trick to taking two men at once, or accepting the more depraved hungers that drove the men who inhabited the club he ran. Courtney couldn’t know, she couldn’t understand. The sweet innocence that glowed from some inner core and lit every cell of her body couldn’t have survived such wicked knowledge.
As he reached her door, he curled his lip at the thought of knocking. The hunger rushing through him fueling the anger of self-denial had him opening the panel forcibly and stepping into the room.
“Your entrances leave something to be desired, Ian.” She faced him, as pretty as an angel, all that beautiful dark hair flowing around her back and shoulders as she turned 27
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from the closet, a soft white jacket trailing from her fingers as she faced him in that siren’s outfit she wore.
Dear God, could anything be more tempting than all the bare, perfect flesh she was displaying?
Ian crossed his arms over his chest, fighting for control as he frowned down at her, using his most intimidating scowl as he fought to regulate his breathing. His cock was already a lost cause. It was fully engorged and throbbing in demand.
Her gaze flickered down, heated, glowed with hunger.
Son of a bitch.
“Stop tempting me, Courtney,” he snapped furiously, surprised at the roughness of his voice as he fought to keep from shaking her. “You don’t want what you’ll get.” She propped a slender, graceful hand on her cocked hip, her eyes languorous, her cheeks flushed.
“And who decided that?” she asked him with an arched brow. “You know, Ian, I really prefer to make my own choices, rather than having them made for me. Perhaps you should remember that before you work yourself into a fury.” Patient, amused. Her voice stroked his senses as her accent seemed to give the tone an almost lilting quality. It was driving him mad. How would she sound screaming his name? Begging for his dick?
“Stay out of The Club.” He refused to argue with her, to tempt his self-control further. “It’s no place for you.”
“Shove your club, Ian.” The haughty tone and cool mocking expression had his blood boiling. “I don’t need it to entertain myself.”
“Your entertainment?” He felt like pulling at his own hair. What the hell was he supposed to do with this woman? “And exactly what kind of entertainment are you looking for, you little minx? Are you out to get fucked? Or just out to see how crazy you can make me?”
Her lashes drifted over her eyes, giving her a sleepy, lust-filled look that had his balls tightening as she strolled closer. Stopping within a breath of him, she stared up at him, her little pink tongue running slowly over lips, making his mouth water.
“How crazy could I make you, Ian?” she asked him then, her breathing escalating, her hard nipples nearly brushing his chest. Damn, he wanted to feel them—in his mouth, between his fingers, burning into his flesh.
Oh, she could make him crazy, he thought silently. Too crazy.
“Crazy enough to call your father and inform him it’s time you headed home,” he growled, nearly biting his own tongue.
She laughed. A low, devilish sound that sent flames licking over his body.
“Poor Ian, you must truly be desperate to threaten me with Daddy.” Knowledge, as ancient as sin itself, echoed in her voice. “I haven’t been under Daddy’s thumb for 28
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many years. Your only chance is throwing me out, period. Perhaps finding a patron wouldn’t be so hard under such circumstances.”
“Are you so desperate for a sugar daddy, Courtney?” he snarled. “Doesn’t Dane provide you with enough?”
A smile curved her lips. “Daddy can’t get me into your bed, Ian, otherwise I would have tried that route already. I refuse to lie about the reason I’m here any longer.” She laid her hand against his chest. He watched her breath catch, the way she swallowed tightly as pleasure tore through him. From such a small touch. How would he survive feeling her, bare flesh to bare flesh, burning beneath him?
“I won’t take you to my bed, Courtney.” He hated the words that slipped past his lips, hated the fact that he couldn’t allow himself to possess her.
She lifted her shoulder in an elegant shrug. “Then another will. Perhaps the nice Middle Eastern gentleman. He seemed to have promise…” Khalid. Ian fought back his instinctive response, and it wasn’t anger.
He gripped her arm when she would have slipped past him.
“Don’t make decisions you’ll regret, little girl,” he warned her harshly. “You’re too young to know or to understand what he’ll ask of you. And it’s nothing compared to what I would demand.”
“Or perhaps, nothing compared to what I would demand,” she said then, causing his blood pressure to escalate, his cock to harden to impossible degrees. He felt as though the thickening shaft would rupture from the hunger filling it. “But—” She shrugged again as she moved away from him. “As you have decided to deny yourself as well as me, I will leave you in peace, Ian. But I refuse to lay here and masturbate to sate the needs. I will see what other entertainment your fair city has to offer me.” She swept from the room as he turned slowly, watching the little skirt swish around her upper thighs, nearly baring her ass as she left the room. His eyes narrowed as he clenched his fists, leashing the almost violent response rising inside him.
She was pushing him. Pushing him too far, straining what little control he had left.
What the hell was it about her? Why did she tempt a part of him that no other woman had ever touched, even Kimberly? Why did she make him hunger for things that he couldn’t even put a name to? And why the fuck was he letting her do it?
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Chapter Three
She was shaking inside. She was nearly shaking on the outside.
Courtney could feel the nervous energy racing through her body, pulsing nearly as furiously as the arousal flaming across her nerve endings. Her pussy felt swollen, intensely sensitive, her clit rasping against the silk of her thong as she walked sedately down the stairs and headed for the front door.
Not that she had any true plans for the night. She would allow Ian’s chauffeur to drive her to a few clubs, perhaps dance a few hours as she drowned her sorrows and her arousal in a few stiff drinks, since Ian wasn’t volunteering his stiff cock.
And how stiff it looked beneath his slacks. Thick and long, mouthwateringly tempting. She wanted nothing more than to go to her knees and release the engorged flesh to her hungry mouth. She could almost feel it, so hard and thick her lips would feel bruised, so hot she would feel blistered. And she wanted it. Longed for it.
As she reached the foyer, she was aware of Ian moving down the steps b
ehind her, almost stalking her as though she were his prey. A shiver worked up her spine, part trepidation, part satisfaction. Finally, his reserve was faltering. If she had known that visiting The Club would bring such a reaction, she would have done so the first week.
The ringing of the doorbell had her pausing as she shrugged on the short, thin leather jacket that matched the outfit she wore. She watched, curious, as the house butler, Jason, moved from the sitting room, casting her a cool look as he gripped the doorknob and opened the double doors.
Courtney felt the immediate tension that filled the room as Ian stepped from the stairs. She was between them, the man she longed for, and the mysterious, devilishly handsome Saudi.
“Well, my luck knows no bounds this night.” The stranger stepped into the foyer, tall, nearly as tall as Ian’s six feet three inches, his black eyes blazing with lust.
Where it had done little to affect her earlier, that look, when paired with the flames she could feel licking over her flesh from Ian’s gaze…she nearly lost the strength in her knees. Dear heaven, they had yet to even touch her, but she could feel the need to, the lust racing around them.
“Prince Khalid el Hamid Mustafa,” the butler announced his presence, his voice an irritating buzz to her side.
Courtney turned, surrounded by testosterone, until her gaze met Ian’s. What she saw there was nearly more than she could bear without begging for his touch. She turned back quickly, her lips curving into a smile as she met the Saudi’s wicked look.
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“Khalid, you weren’t invited up here,” Ian sniped rudely as the butler closed the doors behind the other man.
“I need an invitation?” Khalid lifted a brow curiously, his gaze trained on her. “I wasn’t aware of that. And you haven’t introduced me to your lovely guest, Ian.” Oh, she could just imagine the anger rising inside Ian now. She flicked a glance his way, seeing the stiff set of his shoulders, the flat line of his mouth. But his eyes were burning, not with anger, but with arousal.
“Courtney Marguerita Mattlaw. Prince Khalid el Hamid Mustafa,” he introduced them, with no pretense to civility.
“A most beautiful name, for a most beautiful young woman,” the Prince murmured as he accepted her hand, bending his head gracefully to place a dark kiss on the sensitive flesh of her wrist. “And a most bold young woman as well.” She allowed her expression to smooth to one of amused patience as she saw the laughter in his gaze, the quick, hidden glance behind her before those dark eyes seemed to flash a hidden message her way. A co-conspirator? It appeared she might well need the help.
Besides, causing trouble was so much more fun when one had help.
“Bold?” she questioned him flirtatiously. “And what would lead you to such a conclusion?”
“It is not every young woman who would dare breach the walls of a club such as the one Ian heads. I would definitely describe such a woman as bold.”
“I believe I would use the word…adventurous rather than bold,” she amended his description. “Bold implies a less permanent trait. Adventurous is more genetic.” She glanced at Ian once again, wondering if he caught the suggestive implication.
Sweet mercy, blue eyes could burn, they could glow with lust, and he was proof of it.
“Adventurous it is,” Khalid agreed. “I wondered, as our less than charming host has thrown you from The Club, if you would perhaps grace me with your presence for dinner tonight? My chauffeur is waiting outside, the limo cozy and warm. I believe I could perhaps help relieve the incredible boredom that must be filling your day, trapped as you are with our less than adventurous Mr. Sinclair.” Laughter trembled on her lips, though she held it back valiantly. She was certain the description of less than adventurous was a grave insult to the man she knew Ian was. But it tempted her sense of humor, her sense of daring to push him further. He had all but ignored her this week pretending there was no attraction, no need flaring between them. She wasn’t about to allow this advantage to slip through her fingers.
“What a lovely offer.” She smiled slowly, flirtatiously. “And one I’ll gratefully accept, Prince Mustafa.”
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“Khalid, please.” He grimaced at the title. “Ian and his butler persist in tacking the title to the name. An illegitimate prince is not much of a prince at all. Especially one who prefers the wicked temptations of the West, rather than his father’s beliefs.”
“And some men are a prince, whether born to it, or deserving it,” she praised his offer of escape in glowing words. “I’m ready to leave whenever you are.” His hand moved to her back, riding dangerously low on her hips, his fingers nearly cupping the curve of her ass as he steered her to the door. She allowed the muscles there to clench, the tingling arousal electrifying her as she felt Ian’s gaze on her rear.
“Courtney.” Ian’s voice stopped them as they neared the door.
Turning slowly, she met the brilliant heat emanating from his gaze.
“Yes, Ian?” Maintaining the cool façade, the appearance of control was the hardest endeavor she had met in her life. Ian’s gaze melted her, sent flames searing her pussy and electrifying her clitoris. She could orgasm from that look alone, she believed.
“There are some paths that once taken, you can never turn back,” he warned her, his voice dark, filled with intent as his eyes raked over the obvious arousal that tightened her nipples and flushed her face.
The look burned her, had the blood singing through her veins, desire pulsing in a drumbeat of desperate arousal in the depths of her pussy and the sensitive, swollen knot of her clit.
“And some paths are sought after, Ian,” she answered him, her voice just as low, throbbing in answer to the unvoiced desire. “Just as others are destined.” She turned from him, a superhuman effort, thankful for the support of Khalid’s hand at her back as he led her outside. Cold winter air slapped her in the face, but did little to ease the heat burning through her body as he led her quickly to the limo that waited just below the steps to the house.
The chauffeur opened the door quickly, allowing her to slide into the warmth of the interior as Khalid followed at a more leisurely pace. Courtney was aware of him watching her, amusement lingering in his gaze as she breathed in roughly. Leaving the house was the hardest thing she had ever done. She wanted nothing more than to stay, to rub against Ian like a spoiled cat and feel his hands stroking over her body.
“He’ll be waiting when you return.” Khalid’s voice was low, suggestive.
Courtney glanced over him, noticing the casual grace and inborn arrogance that surrounded him like a shield. His thick black hair fell to his shoulders, framing his dark, aristocratic features. High cheekbones, a straight, hawkish nose, sensual, full lips. Those lips were almost candy, she thought. They would tempt most women to unknown daring in an attempt to taste them. Most women. But not her, not without Ian.
“Then perhaps we should let him wait a while,” she suggested with a smile, though careful to keep the width of the seat between them. “I believe he could use the time to consider his options.”
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His brow arched mockingly. “You’re playing with fire, sweetheart. I’ve never seen Ian deny himself before. It’s obvious the strain is wearing on him. Should his control snap, you could be the one paying the price.”
“Or reaping the benefits,” she retorted confidently. “Ian would never hurt me, Prince Mustafa. No matter how tempted he may be.” And she had no doubt he was tempted by now.
He settled more comfortably in his seat, his black eyes filled with laughter as his lips curved into a smile.
“Do you know the beast you are tempting then?” he asked her carefully. “Ian won’t necessarily be a gentle lover. None of us who inhabit The Club truly are. Our tastes run to the extreme, Ms. Mattlaw, are you prepared for that?”
“The Trojans.” She restrained her smile
as she turned in her seat, crossing her legs as she watched him carefully. “I’ve very well aware of the sort of lover Ian will be, Khalid.”
His eyes roved over her upper body slowly.
“You’re unaroused now that he is no longer in your presence. It is Ian you hunger for. But if you tempt him to your bed, you will find he will not come alone.” It was a warning, a statement of intent. He intended to be there with them.
“And I look forward to it,” she assured him. “Never doubt that I’m not aware of what Ian will ask of me, or the fact that I don’t desire it myself. But only with Ian, Prince Mustafa. Never without him.”
She had no desire to be touched, held, caressed, without him. It was one of the clues that helped her to unravel the frightening feelings she had known as she entered adulthood. Each time he had visited she had watched him, found ways to learn what she could of him. He made her feel things that for years she had been unable to understand. Brought desires and hungers that had been difficult to make sense of. And the fantasies. Even now, the thought of them made her shift in uncomfortable desire.
Such fantasies she had of him.
“He will share you.” He had no intention of covering a truth he evidently believed she was unaware of.
She smiled, a slow curve of her lips meant to assure him that she knew well what was coming.
“When I was twenty-two, I happened to have need of my maid for some reason,” she recounted with a shrug, not clearly remembering now why she needed the young woman. “There were several maids who traveled with me, each resembled me strongly.
That night, when I went searching for her, I happened to oversee and hear as Ian instructed her lover in taking her.” She licked her suddenly dry lips. He had mistakenly called the maid by the name Courtney as she listened. Unconsciously revealing his own hunger. “I knew then that only Ian could fulfill what I needed as well. This is my chance, Prince Mustafa. A chance to convince Ian of this as well.” Even now the memory of that night tormented her.