He Claims Me (6 page)

“Are you laughing at me?” I scowl, wiggling, trying to free myself.

“He's a foot and a half taller than you, nymph. Of course I'm laughing at you.” Blaine chuckles, holding me tightly. “You're crazy and fearless and absolutely perfect.”

I stop struggling, content to be in Blaine's arms, my rage evaporating, defused by his scent, and he rubs my back, stroking his palms up and down, up and down, his chin resting on top of my head.

 

Chapter Five

A
S MY ANGER
fades, I realize what I've done. This dinner is important to Blaine and I've insulted and fought with the guest of honor. “I'm sorry,” I mumble into Blaine's chest. “Have I ruined everything?”

“You've earned the undying loyalty of my team.” Blaine kisses the top of my head. “They'll talk about this dinner for decades.”

My crazy antics will be talked about for decades. That's not a good thing. I groan and Blaine's body shakes again. The situation can't be that serious if he's laughing at me.

“Are you ready to try this again?” he asks. I nod, the tip of my nose sliding along his silk tie. “Be a good girl, nymph.” He releases me and says to Volkov, “I'd like you to meet Anna, the woman I protect as fervently as she protects me.”

I count to five and reluctantly face the Volkovs. “I'm pleased to meet you, Mr. Volkov.” I extend my hand, concealing my emotions.

The older man hesitates, his expression stern and forbidding. Mrs. Volkov slaps his back and Mr. Volkov grasps my fingers, his grip as firm as Blaine's. “I haven't had anyone question my worthiness in decades.”

“Not to your face.” I meet his gaze.

Volkov's lips quirk upward. “Not to my face,” he concedes, dropping his hand. I force myself to stand still as he studies me for three heartbeats, his eyes as all knowing, all seeing, as Blaine's. He inclines his gray head slightly toward me.

“Your Anna may be your best acquisition yet, Blaine,” Volkov declares, the skin around his eyes crinkling. His wife beams and the buzz of conversation resumes around us.

Volkov moves closer to Blaine. As the two CEOs talk in hushed tones, Mrs. Volkov stands silently at her husband's side. I smile at her. She smiles back and some of the tension eases out of my shoulders. I can do this. I stand beside Blaine, listening to the conversation, learning more about his business, about his challenges.

A very large man approaches us, his shoulders wide and his tread surprisingly quiet for his size. He's dressed from head to toe in severe black, his hair as dark as his suit, his tanned face somber and his chin square. He gazes at me with unblinking midnight eyes.

He's judging me and I'll be found wanting, as I always am. I glance up at Blaine. As I almost always am. I tuck my body into Blaine's hard form, yearning to disappear, to become invisible once more.

“Volkov, you've met Henley, my chief of cyber security.” Blaine places his hand on my right hip, his grip gratifyingly secure. He's mentioned Henley, a man he trusts completely, advising me to contact him in case of an emergency.

“Of course we've met.” Volkov scowls. The two men shake hands.

Of course they've met. I shift my weight from my right foot to my left. Everyone knows each other, except for me. I only know Blaine.

“Henley, this is Anna.” Blaine draws me forward.

Volkov's bushy gray eyebrows rise. “You haven't introduced her to your team?”

“Anna.” Henley clasps my hand with both of his. Welts line his palms. I meet his gaze, shocked, and his dark eyes glint. “Mr. Blaine hasn't told you about me, has he?” Although his voice is flat and his expression blank, I sense his sadness.

“He told me he trusts you completely.” I squeeze his hand. “And that's enough for me.”

Henley's eyes soften for a heartbeat before hardening once more. He straightens to his full formidable height. “I see.” And I believe he does, Blaine's trust hard to earn.

“Ready to meet the rest of the team?” Blaine swirls his fingers into my hip, his massage sensuous and arousing. I nod and he steers me through the room, introducing me to his ­people, giving faces to the names he's previously mentioned.

Henley continues to watch me, his dark gaze tracking my movements. I glance over my shoulder, his perusal making me uneasy.

“I told him should anything happen to me, you're his responsibility,” Blaine murmurs in my ear. “Henley takes his responsibilities very seriously.” He plays with the fringes on my shawl. “He'll never touch you but he'll always be watching.”

I understand the meaning behind Blaine's words. Henley will be one of the men watching us in the future. Arousal unfurls, swirling low in my body. “As you always watch me?” My nipples tighten, pressing against the soft cotton of my bra.

Blaine's lips curl upward. “Not now, nymph.”

“Not here?” I ask. He doesn't answer and I tremble, his silence implying he'll take me here. My skin instantly becomes more sensitive, my body more aware of Blaine's. Every brush of his fingers is accentuated, every casual bump of his hips against mine amplified.

We sit at a huge round table covered by a bright red tablecloth. Blaine pulls our chairs close together, his thigh pressing against mine, his body heat warming me through the layers of fabric.

Platters of foods are set on a rotating tray in the middle of the table, and as Blaine continues a heated discussion with the business-­focused Volkov, I transfer some beef teriyaki onto his plate. Mr. Lee, the hovering restaurant owner, nods his head, approving of my choice.

I eat quietly, content to listen to the conversations around me, remaining semi-­invisible tucked close to Blaine. He grazes his fingertips along my side, up and down, up and down, teasing me, tormenting me. I'm conscious of him, too conscious, my body yearning for his touch.

Blaine slips his hand under the tablecloth and slowly pulls my skirt upward, exposing my bare legs. I freeze, my fork raised in the air. Cool air wafts over my skin, exciting me.

He'll take me now, here. He prods his fingertips between my thighs and I open to him, spreading my legs, aware that anyone glancing under the table will see my wet pussy. They'll see my private curls, my pink folds, my tight, no-­longer-­virginal entrance.

Blaine caresses my skin, close but not close enough to my aching core, and I tremble, lowering my fork, passion's tremors radiating from his rough touch.

Henley, Blaine's serious friend, shifts, his chair creaking under his large form. He's seated across from us, watching me, his eyes as black as the night sky. Does he know Blaine has his fingers between my legs, that I'm being pleasured as we eat dinner?

I imagine he knows, that he watches as his boss finger-­fucks me, that he wants to touch me also, his cock hard. It is a safe fantasy, as I know Blaine will never allow another man to touch me. I'm his, completely.

Blaine dips his fingertips into my wet heat and I jerk, the contact exquisite and forbidden. He strokes along my pussy, playing me as only he knows how, seducing me with his fingers.

I bow my head over my plate, concealing my face behind my hair, unable to maintain my blank expression, wanting, needing, him too much. Blaine slides two of his fingers into my entrance, stretching my tender pussy open, and I bite my bottom lip, stifling my moan.

He maintains his conversation with Volkov as he pumps me, pressing the heel of his hand against my clit, the delectable pressure spiraling my need upward. I bring my cloth napkin to my mouth, muffling my pants. Perspiration drips down my spine.

I'm close, too close, my body coiling tight, my inner muscles gripping his fingers. Oh Lord. My thighs shake, the effort to remain still, to remain silent, tremendous. I'm going to come here, in a restaurant, while Blaine's business associates watch.

“Blaine,” I whisper.

He leans closer, the heat of his body driving me ruthlessly toward fulfillment. “Come for me, Anna. Here.” He plunges deep inside me. “Now.” He curls his fingers and smacks the heel of his hand against my clit.

I buck upward, a cry torn from my lips. As I lose control, breaking into a million pieces, uncaring who sees or who hears, Blaine flings his arm out, knocking a full glass of water across the table. Women shriek and men jump to their feet. Waiters rush to soak up the mess.

Amidst the chaos, Blaine pins me to my chair. I writhe, the room spinning around me, my juices gushing over his fingers. He strokes along my inner walls, caressing inside me. Gradually, my heartbeat slows, my rational thought returning, and Blaine withdraws his hand, resting his wet fingers on my upper thighs.

“You're so responsive,” he murmurs into my ear, pressing his cheek against mine. “And beautiful.” Blaine nibbles on my earlobe, teasing my sensitive flesh. “And mine.”

His employees return to their seats. Henley remains where he is, having never moved, his gaze fixed on us. He knows. I wipe Blaine's fingers with a cloth napkin, seeking to hide the truth from the others.

“Are we talking business?” Volkov grumbles. “I have an afternoon flight tomorrow.”

“We're talking business.” Blaine wraps his arm around my waist, tucking me close, and he turns back to the impatient businessman.

I glance across the table. Henley meets my gaze and tugs on the cuffs of his suit. I gaze down at Blaine's hands. One of his cuffs is pulled up, revealing his tanned wrist, his skin speckled with my pussy juices.

My face heats. I smooth Blaine's sleeve back down and Henley nods his approval, his face stern and his chin square.

He continues to watch me. I look around the table. Other ­people watch me, watch Blaine. They don't see all of me and they never will but I'm no longer invisible. I'm vulnerable, exposed, and until I develop another strategy to cope, I'll have to trust Blaine to protect me. I fit into his body, meshing my curves with his muscle, and his grip on me tightens.

As the night progresses, the conversations around us wane, and the waiters clean the table. One smiling waitress assures me no food is wasted, the leftovers are sent home with staff members. Men and women say their good-­nights, returning to their homes, to their families.

Blaine and Volkov continue to talk, their heads bent and their tones serious. Mrs. Volkov sips coffee, her expression resigned, as though she's spent decades waiting for business talk to wind down. Every once in a while Volkov reaches over, squeezes her hand, and her face lights up.

They're a team, an aging patriarch and the woman who loves him. Mrs. Volkov isn't flashy. Her breasts are natural and her figure is soft. She also doesn't talk a lot. She's quiet like me. Talking isn't necessary. Volkov knows she's there, supporting him as he supports her.

I close my eyes, listening to the rumble of Blaine's voice, engulfed in his warmth. This is where I'm supposed to be also, by Blaine's side, supporting him, loving him.

I
WAKE TO
sunlight streaming through a window, the glass splitting the rays into a rainbow of colors. I frown, confused. My bedroom in the Leighs' bungalow doesn't have a window. As I try to sit up, a heavy band over my stomach prevents me from moving.

I look down at the tanned male arm strewn across my near naked body. Blaine lies with his face buried in a white fluffy pillow, his back bare, his ass clad in his boxer shorts. I'm wearing my white panties.

I stare upward, trying to remember how I got here. A gold framed mirror hangs on the ceiling, the contrast of my pale skin and Blaine's golden tan visually stimulating. There's another mirror positioned at the foot of the bed, the wall behind it painted a warm brown. The furniture is rich dark wood, the four-­poster bed intricately carved with vines and plants.

This is Blaine's bedroom, the space comfortable and right, designed for watching inhabitants at every angle. I breathe deeply, the room smelling of his cologne, of him.

It smells of me also. My suit is folded neatly on a chair beside the bed and my faux leather flat shoes are lined up underneath the seat, the matching tote leaning against a clawed foot.

Blaine turns his head and his gaze meets mine, his green eyes soft. “I didn't want to wake you.” He strokes under my breasts and my nipples tighten, my body responding to his touch.

“I don't normally fall asleep in public places.” I place his hand over my left breast. “And I don't normally wake up in strange beds.”

“This isn't a strange bed. It's our bed.” Blaine circles my nipple, teasing me, and I squirm, wanting more. “I'm meeting with Volkov at ten. How long do I have you?”

“I'm supposed to start work at nine o'clock.” I need this job to maintain my independence and I should care about it. I can't summon up that concern, not right now, not while he's touching me.

Blaine shifts over me, his body heavy, solid, warm, pressing me into the mattress. “I'll give you a ride.” He bends his head and swipes his rough tongue over my right nipple. I bow my spine, pushing my breasts into his mouth, his hand. He works me with his lips and his fingers, squeezing and releasing me.

“Will you give me a ride?” I lower my voice suggestively and run my hands over his flat pectoral muscles, across his cascading abdominal muscles. His stomach ripples. “Did you look at me last night? Did you touch me when you undressed me?” I explore his shoulders, the dip along his spine, the scars on his back.

“I wanted to do more than touch you.” Blaine sucks on my nipple and I arch, crying out, the intensity sublime. “I wanted to fuck you while you slept.” He swirls his tongue around the abused flesh, soothing me. “You were so still, so soft.”

I was defenseless and vulnerable, and Blaine wanted me but he didn't take advantage of me. He kept me safe even from himself, respecting my boundaries and my fears.

“You can fuck me now.” I slide my fingers under the waistband of his boxer shorts, his ass firm against my palms. “Taking me the way you wanted to take me last night.” I push the soft cotton down and curl my fingers around his hard shaft. “Filling me.” I run my hands up and down him.

“I
will
fill you.” Blaine yanks on my panties and spreads my legs almost painfully wide, opening me completely to him. “You're wet for me, nymph.” He rubs along me. “Hot.”

“Always.” I undulate, savoring the feel of his naked body against mine. “I'm always hot for you.”