Damien: A Stark Novel (Stark Saga Book 6) Page 8

  A fool’s errand, because how could they ever be more connected than they were every minute of every day?

  He was still stroking her now-bare ass, and he slid his hand lower, teasing his way between her thighs. “Wider,” he demanded, and she complied eagerly, not just spreading her legs, but bending over the back of the sexy little car so that she was wide open to him and just waiting to be fucked.

  She still wore the silk blouse, and the image of the black top against the polished red car was so ridiculously sensual that he realized he’d stopped teasing her ass and was stroking his cock through the pants of his eight thousand dollar Kiton suit.

  He bit the inside of his cheek, fighting the growing explosion inside him. Not yet. Definitely not yet. Instead, he set his hand to a more satisfying task, slowly stroking his wife from clit to ass and back again.

  And oh, Christ, how he loved the way she responded. Her arms were splayed out, her head to the side so that her cheek was on the polished Bugatti. Her eyes were closed, and except for the hard-on-inducing way that she bit her lower lip, she wasn’t moving above the waist at all, not even when she made the soft, sexy mewling sounds that never failed to drive him completely over the edge.

  Below the waist was different. With each stroke, she rocked her ass in time with the movement of his hand. She wiggled her hips, too, as if silently begging him for more. And dear God she was wet.

  He hadn’t penetrated her yet, but his hand was wonderfully slick with the feel and scent of her. He lifted his fingers, unable to fight the urge to taste her, but he couldn’t savor her sweetness because as soon as he lifted his hand away, she whimpered.

  He was teasing her, no doubt about it, and God help him, he loved it. The way she moved. The way she responded. The sweet, desperate noises she made. He could stand there for eternity, his hands on her body, the scent of her arousal making him hard.

  Slowly, he leaned over her, his middle finger sliding deep into her cunt as his thumb pressed against the flower of her ass. He brushed his lips over the curve of her ear. “Tell me you like that, baby.”

  “Yes,” she murmured. “Oh, God, yes.”

  “Tell me you want more.” He kissed his way down her neck to her collar, then pushed her hair aside with his mouth and kissed the back of her neck. The kisses were soft. Romantic, even. But the play of his fingers was not.

  On the contrary, where his mouth teased her with gentle lips and soft kisses, his fingers tormented her with hard thrusts and naughty pleasures. “Touch yourself,” he ordered as he thrust another finger into her sweet cunt. “Put your hand between your legs and play with your clit.”

  She complied eagerly, and when she moaned, he tugged his fingers free. “Take your hand away, too, baby.”

  “Damien, please.” Her voice was low. Desperate. And the way she was writhing against her own fingers made him hard as steel.

  He smacked her ass, relishing that sweet sting on his palm as she arched up, crying out with such wild abandon he thought he might come right then. “Disobeying?” Another spank, and then he cupped his hand on her hot bottom, rubbing gently as she finally pulled her hand free.

  “What did you forget to say?”

  For a moment she only breathed. “Yes, Sir.” Her voice was strained, and he smiled as he slid his fingers back inside her, relishing the way she moved, fucking his hand and knowing she was pushing right up against the edge.

  “That’s my girl.” He continued to rub her ass. “But someone forgot the rules.”

  “No, Sir. Please. Don’t stop. I’ll be good.”

  Christ, he loved this. Loved her. The way they played. The way she melted for him. Submitted to him. And her responses were all the more arousing because he knew damn well that one word from her could bring him to his knees.

  He had the control? That was bullshit. She controlled his heart, his body, his soul. He was just along for the ride.

  And it really was one hell of a ride.

  “I know you will. Which is why I’ll let you choose.” He bent close, his palm resting gently on her rear. “Which do you want? My fingers in your cunt or my palm on your ass? Punishment or pleasure, baby? You tell me.”

  “No fair,” she said. “It’s a trick question.”

  “Is it?”

  She turned her head, her eyes glazed with sensual heat. “With you, punishment is pleasure.”

  Her words filled his heart. “Baby,” he said. “I think we’ll have to go with both.”

  “Yes, please.”

  “Look forward, head down, and close your eyes.”

  She did as he ordered, and he slowly rubbed her ass cheek. “So beautiful. Do you have any idea how much I love marking you. Claiming you?”

  “You don’t have to claim me. I’m already yours.”

  “I know, baby. But I’m going to enjoy the privilege.” He spanked her once, twice, then stroked her rear, soothing the sting before sliding his fingers between her cheeks and thrusting deep inside her core. She gasped, making small noises in her throat as she rocked against him, her body seeking to draw his fingers in deeper.

  Again and again, until with the last spank, he teased her by sliding his sex-slick finger into her ass, desperate to take her completely over.

  “Damien.”

  Need glazed her voice, slicing through his swirling, rapturous thoughts.

  “Please,” she begged. “Please fuck me. Now. Like that.”

  Hell, yes, he would. He didn’t bother stripping. Just yanked down his fly and tugged his cock free. He was so fucking hard that the feel of his own hand almost made him explode, but he fought back, holding tight to the control he was famous for.

  He slid his hands over her bare hip, then tugged her toward him, relishing her gasp as she slid along the back of the Bugatti until his cock was right at her center. He held her still, then entered her slowly until her demands that he go harder and deeper overwhelmed him and he pounded into her, his cock deep inside as he held her hip with one hand and teased her ass with the other, her cries of, “Yes, yes, oh, God, Damien, yes,” echoing through the garage.

  “Touch yourself, baby. I want you to come with me.”

  She didn’t hesitate, and her fingers brushed his cock as she teased herself. Her body quivering and tightening around him as her release stormed down on her. He wanted to take her over, even as he wanted to keep her right there on the knife edge of a pleasure so intense it was almost like pain. An almost unendurable ecstasy of a kind he’d only ever felt with her, his wife, this woman who owned him completely.

  “Damien.” His name was ripped from her as her body shuddered, passion filling her with such intensity it sent him spiraling over as well. He emptied himself into her, and felt his entire body go limp, completely sated, utterly satisfied.

  He bent over, covering her body with his, and for a moment, they simply breathed. “Have I mentioned I love you?” he murmured when he’d recovered the power of speech.

  “Once or twice. Here and there.”

  “I love you,” he said again, because it really couldn’t be said too many times.

  “I love you, too. You’re everything to me, Damien. You gave me the world when you gave me you.”

  He closed his eyes, reveling in those words, then gently kissed the back of her neck. “Don’t move,” he ordered, then eased off of her and went to the passenger side of the car. He found some tissues in the glove box, returned, and gently cleaned her up.

  “Considering we both need to get to work, you should probably put your skirt back on.”

  “So conservative.” She shot him a sexy smirk as she bent over for the skirt, then stepped into it, deftly buttoning it and sliding up the zipper. She adjusted her blouse, left her panties on the garage floor with a wink to him, then slipped on her shoes.

  “I think we missed morning traffic,” she said as she walked to the driver’s side door, opened it, then slid into the car. She tossed him a look that was pure, sensual satisfaction.

  “Get
in, Mr. Stark. It’s my turn to drive.”

  Chapter Eleven

  “You sure you wouldn’t rather I drive?” Damien asked as she slid to a stop in front of the drive-through window at Upper Crust.

  “Nervous, Mr. Stark?”

  “Terrified,” he said dryly.

  She just laughed and put her hand on his knee. “Until we get to my office, looks like I’m the one in charge.”

  “Be careful, Ms. Fairchild.”

  “Or else what?” Her voice was all innocence. “You’ll punish me?” She leaned over so that her mouth was right at his ear, and she used her right hand on his upper thigh to balance. “Please, Mr. Stark,” she whispered, her finger brushing his cock, which was rapidly getting into the spirit. “Please punish me.”

  He was tempted to pull her over to him, yank up her skirt, and spank her right there in the drive through. Instead, he said, “Hey, Kari,” when the familiar manager appeared at the window with the order he’d texted in right as they’d left the garage.

  “Oh, wow. It’s great to see you guys. I’m so sorry about what happened, and I’m beyond glad Anne and Bree are okay. I saw the video, obviously. You got the muffins?”

  “We did,” Nikki said. “It was very thoughtful of you to send a basket. Thank you.”

  Kari passed the boxes into the car as Nikki handed her a credit card. “I still can’t believe it was Rory. I mean, I introduced him to Bree. I’m the reason she started dating that nutcase. And nobody knew. Everyone said he was so normal. It’s like this betrayal. All the regulars here—they all feel like family. But he was a wake-up call, I guess, because they’re not.” She shook her head and sighed. “Guess you can’t be too careful.”

  “Do you remember how you met him?” Damien asked.

  “Not really. He started coming once, twice a day. He’d sit and work. After a while, we talked. He was nice. Cute. Bree was single.” She shrugged. “Honestly, I think I’m giving up matchmaking.”

  Behind them, someone in a silver Toyota honked.

  “Really great to see you,” Kari said, handing back the credit card along with their two coffees. “Be safe.”

  “She said to be safe,” Damien said five minutes later as Nikki took the curves with a speed that defied physics. “I’m pretty sure you’re walking on the wild side.”

  “With you? Always.” But she slowed down, more because of the traffic congestion than because he’d complained. “What were the questions about? Does it matter how she met him? It’s over, right? He confessed. He’s being sentenced soon. It’s done.”

  “Just curiosity,” Damien said, because he heard the panic in her voice. And because he really was just curious. But that curiosity was fueled by a need to know everything about the man who snatched their daughter.

  He leaned forward and pressed a button on the sound system. Immediately, the car filled with Dominion Gate, a Finnish heavy metal band that Jackson loved and that had performed live at Westerfield’s, a Stark club in West Hollywood, on more than one occasion.

  He sat back, enjoying both the music and the power of the car. And appreciating the way his wife handled the curves.

  She glanced over at him, then turned down the volume. “You’re far too comfortable. Shall I see if I can shave five minutes off the trip? Or heat up the morning even more?” she added, stroking his thigh.

  “Eyes on the road, baby.”

  She squeezed his leg as they reached a red light. “You’re not the only one who can multi-task.”

  “You are begging—begging—to be punished.”

  “Figured that out, did you?”

  He laughed. A real, deep, full-on laugh. And damned if it didn’t feel good.

  She turned her head just long enough to smile at him. He saw the joy on her face, too, and they both knew what it meant. Healing. Thank God, they really were healing.

  “So why do you think Sofia called us both?” she asked as she turned left. “What’s her agenda?”

  “Maybe she doesn’t have one,” he said. “Maybe she just wants to ease into our lives now that she’s well and life’s settling back into a normal routine.”

  He glanced toward her, expecting a reply. Or at least a dubious snort. Instead, she just said, “This is my stop” as she pulled into a thirty-minute space in front of her building and killed the engine. “Are you coming up?”

  “Absolutely. I need to see my wife’s power center.”

  “Now you’re just being kinky.”

  He glanced around. “On the sidewalk? I can be persuaded…”

  Her lips twitched. “Stop it.”

  They were still laughing when they exited the elevator and entered the office. Nikki called a greeting to Marge, who currently doubled as both the receptionist and the office manager, but Damien stopped short, because he’d noticed the pixie-faced girl with deep brown eyes and strawberry blond curls.

  “Hi,” Sofia said, standing up from the chair.

  Beside him, Nikki tightened her grip on his hand. “Sofia,” she said. “You’re here.”

  “I’m here. I—I wanted to talk. I didn’t expect you, too,” she said to him. “But I’m glad you’re here.”

  “Oh.” Nikki looked up at him, then back to Sofia. “Oh, I’m sorry. I’m being rude. I just didn’t expect to see you. Marge, this is Sofia. She and Damien have known each other forever.”

  “Well, then it’s a pleasure to meet you,” the older lady said.

  “Back at you.”

  “Come on,” Nikki said. “We can go back to my office. Everyone else is probably in the conference room for the morning meeting.” She shot Damien a sideways glance. “Unfortunately, I got here a little late.”

  She led the way, and Damien fell in step beside Sofia, grateful that Nikki had pulled herself together. They weren’t BFFs by any means, but they’d made progress recently, and Damien had hope that his wife and his lifelong friend would ultimately reach a point where they would at least feel comfortable together.

  “This is a really great space,” Sofia said as they stepped into Nikki’s corner office.

  “It is,” Nikki said. “And it’s a lot better than it was the last time I saw it. Abby did a great job supervising the cleanup,” she said to Damien. “And I know she had help. So thank you, too.”

  Sofia looked between the two of them. “What are you talking about?”

  “Someone vandalized Nikki’s office a few days before they were supposed to move in.”

  “Oh.” Her nose wrinkled. “That’s awful. What did they do?”

  “Spray paint. Bullshit. I don’t even want to think about it,” Nikki said.

  “I’m going to find out who did it,” Damien told her. “That much I promise you.”

  “I believe you,” Nikki said.

  “You should,” Sofia added. “When Damien says he’ll do something, he does it. You can count on it.”

  “True enough,” Nikki said, and when she smiled at Sofia, Damien thought he heard another chunk of ice melting away.

  “So what’s up, Sof?” Damien asked. “You called us both this morning but left no message.”

  Sofia lifted a shoulder, looking more like a little girl than a woman in her thirties. “I got these for the girls,” she said, pulling two gift bags out of the giant tote she was carrying. “Just little stuffed animals, but since I didn’t bring them before…”

  She trailed off, and Damien took the bags with a simple “Thank you.”

  Sofia cleared her throat. “And, well, I wanted to say to Nikki that I saw the video. The one you did with Jamie. Talking about the kidnapping and how you cut.”

  “Oh.” Nikki stiffened, which didn’t surprise Damien. The blade she used that horrible day was one that Sofia had given to her years ago in a perverted attempt to force her to cut. Damien shuddered, imagining Nikki in her office that day, the antique scalpel in her trembling hand. And remembering only too well the way everything spun out of control in the days that followed.

  “I just w
ant to say that you should talk to someone. I mean, I did. And it really helped me. Maybe it’ll help you, too.”

  Nikki’s lips were pressed tight, and Damien reached over and took her hand. She held on—tight—but she nodded and said, “Thanks. I did talk to someone, and it did help. I really appreciate the concern. Truly.”

  “Good. I’m glad. You’ll give the kids the presents?”

  “Of course.”

  Damien squeezed Nikki’s hand before releasing it, then moved to Sofia. “Come on. I’ll walk you to the elevator.”

  “Right. Sure.”

  “Be right back,” he said to Nikki, who nodded, looking only a little shell-shocked.

  “Why are you really here?” he asked once they’d stepped out of the office and were standing in the elevator alcove.

  “I—I don’t know what you mean. I wanted to give Nikki the presents. And, um, tell her that talking to a counselor helps. That’s all. Really. Was it bad for me to come?”

  He considered the question. “Bad? No. But it wasn’t good either.”

  She licked her lips. “I just want—Damien, I just want things to be right between us again. And that means I have to be okay with your wife. And, well, she has to be okay with me.”

  “And you thought that showing up unannounced was the way to do that? Coming to her office?” He kept his voice level. Gentle. “Sofia, honey, think about the last time you came to her office.”

  Her eyes widened so much she looked like a small animal caught in the headlights. “The last time?” Then she seemed to shake it off, leaving only sadness and understanding. “Oh,” she said. “I wasn’t thinking.” She glanced back at the office doors. “Should I go apologize?”

  He shook his head. “No. It’ll be okay. But you need to give her space and time. We all want the same thing, truly. But it’s going to take time and care. And that means no surprise visits. Okay? I need you to be patient. Can you do that?”

  She nodded. “I can do whatever you need me to. If that’s what it takes to make it right.”

  “Good. Thank you.” He gave her a hug, hoping she truly understood, then put her on the elevator with a promise to call soon. Then he headed back into the office in time to run into Abby and Travis coming out of the conference room. The three of them made the hall crowded, and he watched Abby stiffen as Travis casually put a hand on her back to guide her out of the way.