Authors: Mina Carter
He gave into temptation, reaching out to wind a dark strand around his finger. His hazel eyes were unguarded for once. Thoughtful. JJ was not a man who relaxed around others. He'd learned that lesson early on in life.
They'd made love three times in the night. He paused, stopping his train of thoughts in its tracks. Sex. It was just sex. Admittedly it was damn good sex but it was just sex all the same. JJ didn't do anything else. Talk about 'making love'
and women got the wrong idea. Hell, even thinking that way was dangerous. Before you knew it they were looking at bridal magazines and talking about seating plans.
But that was the point wasn't it? He needed to get married to circumvent the clause in his grandfather's will. And he wanted Zette, no one else would do. So what did it matter if he let her start thinking that way...
He shook himself. No, it still didn't mean they needed to be bandying the 'L' word around too much. It was a marriage of convenience, his convenience. Zette didn't need to know 42
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that though. A brief pang of guilt speared through his chest, his eyes following the soft curve of her cheek and the flutter of her eyelashes as she slept. Quickly he shrugged it off.
It was sex. Nothing more. But whatever it was, he hadn't been able to get enough. Whether fast and furious like the first time up against the door, or slow and sensual like the last time. He'd woken her in the early hours, hard and aching with need despite the fact he'd already taken her twice before. She'd been sleepy, protesting his advances a little.
But he'd had a lifetime of knowing how to get exactly what he wanted and he was nothing if not persuasive.
The result had been Zette moaning in pleasure, her curvy body under his as he pounded into her, rotating his hips so she got the maximum pleasure out of their joining. When she'd come, the rapture on her face and the tight grip of her body around his had tipped him over the edge. More than tipped, that was far too tame for the way she made him feel.
Hurtled him over the edge would be more accurate. Hurtling him over the edge and straight into the most intense orgasm he could remember.
He frowned, creases forming on his brow. In fact, last night they'd all been pretty damn good. His body tightened, his cock hard in an instant at the memory of her wrapped around him. All tight, wet heat. The kind of feeling that made a guy, made him, just want to sink into her willing body and stay there forever.
Her eyelashes fluttered again, the tiny movements of her body telling him she was waking up. About time too, he 43
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decided. He'd thought he was going to have to coax her awake again.
"Good morning sleeping beauty." He leaned in to claim a kiss as soon as her eyes opened, his large hand sliding up her side. He pulled her toward him, covering her with his larger body as he started to make lo—seduce her all over again.
* * * *
She trudged through into the living room, dumping her bag on an oversized leather armchair as she hopped from one foot to the other to pull her boots off. A small moan of relief escaped her full lips, her feet virtually crying in relief as they spread out, released from the narrow confines of the boots.
"Bloody Italian boots, do they all have anorexic feet or something?" she muttered as she kicked them out of sight under the sofa. They could stay there and rot for all she cared. Nothing would persuade her to put them on again ...
Well, until the next morning when she decided they were just too cute not to wear, forgetting all about the torture they'd put her through today. But tonight, tonight she hated the sight of them.
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She flopped back into the big cushions that littered the back of the sofa and closed her eyes with a sigh. The boots pinching hadn't been the worst of her problems today, would that they had been. No stranger to tight costumes thanks to the fads wardrobe went through, she could have coped with that. No, it had all started to go belly up this morning after an argument with JJ and just gone downhill from there.
The argument had been such a juvenile one. JJ wanted her to accompany him to some business shindig tonight and she hadn't wanted to. After a tough week writing and trying to organise everything for the concert all she'd wanted to do was curl up and be a hermit this weekend. Stay in bed and call out for pizza instead of cooking. He'd got stroppy and demanding, which had only meant she'd dug her heels in more. Which in turn had lead to heated words and Zette storming out, loudly stating he might have bought her body but she'd be damned if he owned her. To which he'd just yelled that until the concert was done he did, and she'd best be there.
Of course, that was the worst thing to say to Zette. In retaliation she hadn't left the studio until half seven. Half an hour after the function had started.
"Gah!" She grabbed the nearest cushion and buried her head under it. JJ was going to be pissed as hell. She knew that without asking, knew she was playing with fire by refusing to go tonight. But she was just too tired to even contemplate it. Hour after hour of being nice, smiling until her cheeks ached. It was her idea of hell. She shuddered and threw the pillow aside, watching it bounce off the sofa and onto the wooden floor.
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No, what she needed now was a nice long bath and an early night. The past three weeks had been a whirlwind. She felt as though her feet had barely touched the floor. Far from wanting a one night stand as she'd thought, JJ had treated her like a real ... girlfriend, if you could call her that. Wasn't she a bit old for that term now? She shrugged to herself.
Whatever the correct terminology was, JJ had infiltrated every part of her life: picking her up from the studio, dropping into her offices for impromptu lunches, taking her home each evening for nights of passion that left her wanting more. He was a forceful whirlwind of a man who always seemed to be on the move. It wore her out just looking at him at times.
So it was nice just to get away from that for a night, take stock and catch her breath. The concert was less than a week away and as well as being on the organisation team, Zette also had to perform. So she needed her sleep, she told herself firmly. No matter what Mister High and Mighty thought.
The phone rang behind her, the shrill sound making her jump a little. She wasn't expecting it. Out of necessity she was ex-directory. A freaky wanna-be stalker had seen to that a couple of years ago. So there weren't many people that had the number and most of the ones that did also had her cell so they usually rang that first.
She left it to ring, waiting for the answer-phone to cut in.
As soon as it did JJ's voice demanded, "Zette, where the
hell
are you? I told you I wanted you with me tonight ... Oh fuck it, I hate these things. Call me." Then he cut the call. No goodbye, no nothing.
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Head rested back against the plush cushions Zette wrinkled her nose at the ceiling. Let him wait, she was having tonight off from being a paid mistress. Three weeks without a break, surely she could ask for one night off? Even if the work wasn't that hard. Not hard at all. JJ was a skilled lover, the best she'd had. Not that she'd had that many but even she could tell he was good. Better than good. A master of seduction. She hadn't really stood a chance that first night she realised now, nor any night since. He'd played her from that first kiss, and he was still doing it.
She levered herself off the sofa with a groan and headed toward the bathroom to run a bath. Time for some heavy duty pampering.
* * * *
Reaching up, she wound the heavy fall of her hair up and secured it in a clip so it wouldn't trail in the water as she bathed. Then, slowly, she stripped off her clothes. The fitted shirt gave way to reveal a slender torso, her breasts encased in a lace and silk bra. She turned slightly, studying herself in the mirror. Her hands skimmed up her sides to cup the full breasts, pushing them together to make her cleavage deeper.
What was it about these that fascinated men? JJ was nuts 47
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over them, and half the photographers she worked with were all 'More cleavage darling! Let's have more of those tits on display.'
She shook her head and dropped her hands, unfastening her jeans to push them down over her hips. The fabric, weighted by the heavy belt, slid down the regrettably short length of her legs. That was one thing Zette had always wished she could change about herself. She was short and on the pretty side of plump for the music industry. Which meant she was a normal size. She knew that, didn't have a problem with it. But once, just once it would be nice to sweep into a place gracefully. One couldn't do 'sweeping gracefully' at a little over five foot, it just wasn't possible.
She bent down to retrieve the belt, coiling it in one hand as she dropped the jeans into the laundry basket. She'd already managed to wash three and didn't want to repeat the mistake. Coiling the soft leather she left it on the vanity and shucked off her underwear.
Her toe had barely dipped in the water when a hammering at the door, accompanied by the shrill sound of the bell being rung repeatedly, jerked her head up. Irritation surged through her. Who the hell could that be?
She hovered for a second, one foot over the tempting water. She could ignore it, just sink into the scented water and close her eyes ... The hammering got louder, as though the unseen caller could tell what direction her thoughts were taking. She sighed and stepped back. Grabbing a robe from behind the door, she pulled it on, stalking through the open-plan apartment to the front door.
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"Okay, okay, I'm coming. Keep your bloody hair on!" she hissed and forgot everything she knew about personal safety to throw the door open. Sure this was a secure block, but someone determined could always scale the fence or shimmy down a drainpipe or whatever the terminally obsessed did these days.
"Are you bloody
mad
? Do you always open the door without checking who it is first?"
Zette's eyes widened at the tall male figure filling the doorway, snapping a demand at her in lieu of a greeting. JJ.
She'd have preferred the deranged stalker.
"Oh yes, all the time!" she threw back and shot him a withering look, one he completely ignored as his gaze raked over her, noting the fluffy, overlarge bathrobe and her bare feet.
"Do you have anything on under there? You haven't, have you? So you answered the door without knowing who it was or even bothering to check and practically naked as well!" His voice was low, tight with anger as he glared down at her, stepping through the door and forcing her to back up. It was that or be trampled.
She cast a glance down at the towelling robe. It covered her from neck to mid-calf. Sexy and revealing it was not. "Not exactly naked," she argued, "not that it's any of your damn business what I answer the bloody door in!"
His reply was a look so hot it could have stripped paint, making it bubble and melt off any surface his hazel eyes rested upon. Zette sucked in a breath as he advanced on her, slamming the door behind him with a savage twist of his 49
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torso. She shivered as her nipples pebbled under the robe, the sensitive peaks rubbing against the towelling. Towelling which had felt so soft when she'd pulled the robe on but now seemed designed to abrade her sensitive flesh, sending shooting sparks of arousal through her body directly to her clit. Colour blazed in her cheeks. She was sick, twisted in the head if she could get turned on by this sort of behaviour. By his anger, he looked as though he either wanted to throttle her or devour her.
She backed up, JJ stalking her, until the back of her hips bumped the console table to one side of the large hall. In an instant he was on her, hard hand sliding around the back of her neck as his other wrapped around her waist, boosting her up onto the table. She heard the ornaments hit the carpet but it was as though the sound was a long way off, all her attention on the man pushing against her, crowding her with his large, hard body.
"Well, I'm making it my business." His voice was a low growl of anger and warning as he ripped open the front of her robe. She gasped as cool air washed across her exposed skin; skin that burned as he swept a hot look over her body, lingering on the nipples that were already peaking toward him in invitation before heading down to the neat strip of hair above her mound. Roughly he shoved her legs apart, jamming his hips between them as he leaned closer. "You know what happens when you open the door to
me
dressed like this?"
Zette shook her head as he leaned closer, pausing just before his lips touched hers. Arousal hummed through her 50
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body, all her senses teetering on the knife edge of anticipation.
"You get fucked. Fucked long and hard," he promised, taking her lips in a hard kiss. At the same time his fingers parted the lips of her sex, brushed her clit once in preparation before he thrust two fingers inside her.
She moaned, almost coming apart there and then. Liquid heat filled every cell of her body, her pussy clenching around his fingers. The kiss was hot and hard, a brand of ownership and warning, allowing her no chance to regain her composure as he fucked her with his fingers. His thumb circled her aching clit at the same time, driving her need higher.