Living in Secret: Living In..., Book 3 (11 page)

“Enough.” He held something in his other hand. A silver packet. “Put this on me.”

A condom. Oh yes, oh God, yes. She took it from him and ripped it open, her hands shaking only a little. Another thing she’d never done for him before. Always he’d been the one to do it.

She gripped the hard heat of him, rolling the latex down, feeling unpracticed and awkward, yet not enough to stop. He tensed under her fingers and when she looked up at him, his eyes had gone dark, like night creeping over a brilliant blue sky. “Get in my lap, dirty girl.”

She sucked in a breath. “Facing you?”

“No, away. I want to fuck you like Raphael did. Only this time, you’re going to be screaming with my cock in you, not his.”

The words were so brutally erotic she found she was trembling as she stood up, beginning to be afraid of the intensity of her desire. Surely she couldn’t be this desperate? Surely it was wrong somehow?

His hands were hard on her hips, forcing her to turn around then pulling her back into his lap. It was a shock to feel the heat of his bare skin against hers. Her own skin felt so sensitized she gasped aloud, trembling as he slid a palm over her stomach, beneath the chains around her. But he didn’t give her any time to adjust, his fingers curling under the silky fabric of her panties and pulling them ruthlessly aside. Then she was crying out as he slid one finger deeply into her sex. Her hips jerked, her back arching, pleasure flaring, bright as magnesium burning.

He added another finger, working deeper until she was shaking uncontrollably, a dim part of her appalled at how quickly she was almost at the point of orgasm.

“Connor,” she gasped as his fingers twisted, the edge so close she could almost taste it.

His free hand slid up her body, the heat of his palm cupping her breast, his thumb circling one nipple in small, gentle movements. It wasn’t enough, only prolonging the agony of pleasure.

“Please…”

But the hand between her legs disappeared. “You’re not allowed to come, understand?” His voice, dark and ragged in her ear. “Not until I’m ready for you to do so.”

He shifted beneath her and she felt the head of his cock pushing against her entrance. But only so far. She squirmed, her hands reaching down, wanting more. Desperate for it. “Connor, please…”

“No.” He took her hands and held them down on the arms of the chair, like Raphael had. “Keep your hands here and don’t you dare move them.”

She didn’t even think about disobeying this time, her nails digging into the fabric as he took his hands away from her, shifting again. Sliding deeper.

“Fuck, you’re wet.” His mouth brushed against her shoulder, her neck. “I wanted to do this slowly but you’re all slippery and hot.” His voice deepened. “You’ve got such a greedy little cunt, Victoria. It doesn’t want to wait. It’s all ready for me right now.”

And then he was sliding all the way into her and her head fell back against his shoulder, her body shaking. She was so close, the orgasm she so desperately wanted just out of her reach. His hand was on her breast, gently pinching her nipple, while the other was on her hip, pressing her down.

Oh God, she only needed a little more friction, a little more movement and she’d be there. “Now…” she murmured, hardly even aware she was speaking. “Please…Connor…now…”

“No.” His hips moved, his cock sliding out of her, then back in, deeper this time. “Not yet. Sexy, dirty little girls like you have to wait their turn.” He thrust again, his hand on her breast and hip firm, and she cried out because again it wasn’t enough.

She twisted in his lap, searching for more, but his grip only tightened still further. “Keep still. I’m not done yet.” He pinched her nipple hard, the pain not detracting from the pleasure in the slightest, only adding bright sparks to the fire already raging inside her.

“You bastard,” she groaned as he thrust harder, delivering another pinch at the same time. “You fucking bastard. I can’t…”

“I am. And you can.” His breath was harsh in her ear as he moved in a rough, desperate rhythm. “Stop that greedy little cunt of yours from coming, Victoria. You’re not allowed. Not until I say.”

The hand on her hip moved, sliding between her legs, brushing over her clit in that same light, gentle way as he had when she was with Raphael. A caress at odds with his hard, vicious thrusts and the rough pinch on her nipple.

She wailed, her body arching in his arms. Because it was impossible. No matter how much she wanted to hold out, to do what he said, she knew she wasn’t going to be able to. Not with him touching her, or with the filthy words he whispered in her ear, the feel of him inside her.

She tried to fight it, tried to hold back, but her body began to gather itself anyway. “No,” she whispered. “I can’t.”

“Do as you’re told, you gorgeous little bitch,” he said roughly. Then he bit her, his teeth sinking into the incredibly sensitive skin between shoulder and neck.

It was too much. The hard words, the pain of the bite, the intense pleasure of him inside her, the pinch on her breast. Every nerve ending ignited, pleasure overwhelming her.

She screamed, burning like a torch, and then screamed again, her body bucking against his hold. His voice was in her ear but she didn’t hear. There was roaring in her head and lights behind her eyes. And she was lost.

Utterly lost.

And it felt like it took eons to come back to herself, and when she did she was still trembling like a leaf. Connor’s hands were on her, stroking down her shoulders and her arms, murmuring in her ear, soothing her. But she didn’t feel soothed. She felt stripped bare, oversensitive to every touch and the gentleness of his hands only seemed to make it worse.

“Stop.” The word came out harsh but she didn’t try to make it sound any less so. “Connor, stop.”

The movement of his hands stilled. “What is it?” His voice sounded almost as cracked as hers, yet that didn’t make her feel any better. In fact, it only made things worse.

“I need that five minutes.” The safe space he’d promised her.

“Sure, but—”

She didn’t wait for the rest, pushing away from him and stumbling on shaky legs toward the doorway, heading for the bathroom situated down the hall a little way.

Shutting the door, she cleaned herself up, trying to avoid looking in the mirror, not wanting to even see herself. Because she was sure she was different now and if she was, she didn’t want to know.

She couldn’t afford to be different. She couldn’t be the woman who liked giving blowjobs in the hallway and got off on being called a sexy little bitch. What she needed was to get home, have a shower and wash away all the evidence. Be the person she’d been for the past five years. The person she knew and was familiar with. Comfortable with.

Shivering, she reached for the door handle and pulled it open.

Connor was standing in the hallway outside, muscular arms folded, straight dark brows lowered. He’d pulled on his jeans and now she felt even more exposed given what she was wearing.

“Are you okay?” His frown deepened. “Did I hurt you?”

“No.” She took a deep, silent breath. “Is my five minutes up?”

“Yes.”

“In that case I’ve decided I’m going home.”

Connor’s frown became a scowl. “What?”

“You said after five minutes if I don’t want to continue, I don’t have to. So I’ve decided not to continue.” She didn’t wait for him to protest, brushing past him and going over to where her trench coat still lay in the middle of the hallway. Picking it up, she put it on, belting it tightly around her waist.

“What the hell, Victoria? I made you dinner. Stay for that at least.”

Oh God, had he? She glanced at him, seeing the anger flickering in his eyes.

He’ll make you pay for that. And you’ll love every second.

Her heartbeat accelerated, desire twisting inside her.

No, she couldn’t stay. She’d already gone too far, slipped too much from the person she thought herself to be. She couldn’t allow herself to slip any further.

“I’m sorry, Connor.” And she turned, making for the front door.

“I won’t sign those fucking papers,” he said roughly. “You know that.”

She paused but didn’t turn. “You said a week. I’ll be here tomorrow.”

Then she went out.

Chapter Seven

Connor stared at the computer screen and realized he’d read the same paragraph of the judgment he’d been researching at least five times and still hadn’t taken in any of it. Cursing, he pushed himself away from his desk and stalked to the window of his office. It was raining outside, the city buildings nearby lost in another typical Auckland downpour.

He really should be getting on with the mountain of reading he had to do for this case. The kid the police wanted to prosecute had shot his father, but the defense was trying to get the murder charges dropped, claiming the kid had been abused. There had been no concrete evidence of the abuse, but it was clear the kid had hated his father.

Sound familiar?

Connor deliberately didn’t think about that. He watched the rain instead.

In all honesty though, it was hard to concentrate on anything with his head so full of the night before. Of Victoria screaming out her orgasm in his arms. Right before she walked out the door without any explanation at all.

Familiar anger simmered inside him, thick and hot, disproportionate to what had happened. Especially since he’d got what he wanted, hot sex and a couple of orgasms. No, she hadn’t stayed the whole night and yes, that was disappointing. But surely not enough for him to quite so pissed off with her? After all, she’d promised she’d be back tonight.

Yet that reasoning did nothing for the anger sitting acidly in his gut.

The way she’d left made him wonder if he’d done something wrong, something she didn’t like. Hurt her in some way.

Why should you care, though? She said you didn’t hurt her. What’s the problem?

He let out a breath, staring at the gray rain outside. Christ, he didn’t know. He kept thinking of that look in her eyes as she’d knelt at his feet, the one that looked right through him. And then the way she’d touched him in the lounge after he’d taken his clothes off, her hands shaking with desperation. As if she’d been waiting for that moment for a long, long time…

I don’t want to be the only one who’s naked.

There had been uncertainty in her eyes, fear and reluctance. She’d been conflicted, that much had been clear to him. And no wonder. The sexual intensity between them had been unexpected and difficult to deal with after years of not having it at all.

But perhaps there was more to it than just unexpected chemistry.

Perhaps there was always more to it and you just didn’t notice?

Connor scowled at the rain. Christ, why was he thinking about this? It was only sex between them and that’s all he wanted. One week, no more. She’d promised him she’d be there tonight so what was the big deal?

One thing he did want was a whole damn night though, not her walking out without explanation again. Which meant if he didn’t want a repeat of what happened the night before, he had to figure out exactly what her problem was.

He took his phone out of his pocket, deciding to give her a heads up about what he expected from her tonight in a quick text:
Be prepared tonight to explain why you left the night before.
Then he put it away and sat back down at his desk, trying to get his head back into the case. If he wanted to keep his reputation as a crusader for justice, this murder charge needed to stick.

Five minutes later his phone buzzed. Not a text. A call. He pulled it out and glanced down at the screen. It was Victoria. He pressed the answer button. “If you’re calling to tell me you’re not coming tonight, please remember our agreement.”

There was a small hesitation. “I’m not calling to tell you that.”

“Then why? You have a problem with explaining why you ran away?”

“I did not run away.”

“Yes, you did. I want to know why.”

“You don’t get to ask me questions, Connor. That’s not what this week is about.”

“This week concerns what I want, and if I want an explanation as to why you ran out on me, I will fucking have one.”

She was silent, the phone line seeming to vibrate with the anger in his voice. Christ, what the hell was he doing? Letting that anger leak out all over the place. He had to get himself under control. Anger was not good for anyone, him least of all.

Yet he didn’t want to take it back. Because for some reason it felt good to let it out, even if it was only a little bit.

“Why do you need an explanation?” she asked finally. “What difference does it make to you why I left?”

Good question.

He dismissed the thought. “Because I want a night, Victoria. A whole night. Which means you need to tell me what went wrong so I can fix it. So it doesn’t happen again.”

“What if I left because of you? Because you wouldn’t sign those damn papers? What if fixing it would only require a signature?”

He sat back in his chair, staring at his computer screen. “Don’t tell me you don’t want this, Victoria. Don’t tell me you aren’t looking forward to another night together as much as I am.”

She was silent.

“It’s not about the signature,” he went on when she didn’t speak. “It’s about the sex, isn’t it? And before you say anything, if you tell me you didn’t want it and you lied to me last night, then God help me you will
never
get those fucking papers.”

The silence stretched out for so long he thought for a second she’d gone. Then she said, “Why do you keep holding that over my head?”

His jaw tightened. “I have to use something. I’d never get anything out of you if I didn’t have some kind of leverage.”

“You’ve never wanted anything from me before.”

A memory abruptly filtered through the anger inside him. Of coming home that day and finding the letter from Jessica, a child he never knew she had. A child she’d had years ago and hadn’t told him. And of the way she’d closed up when he’d forgotten himself and demanded answers, turning her back on him and walking away.

“I have,” he said flatly. “I wanted you to tell me about Jessica.”

Another long silence, this time crushed by the oppressive weight of the past.

“I’m not the only one with skeletons in their past, Connor,” Victoria said quietly.

And he went still, cold seeping through him. No, she couldn’t know. He’d buried that past and made sure it stayed buried. No one knew about Damian Blake’s little meth empire, or the son he’d tried to drag into business with him. The wife who’d been so badly hurt after he’d thrown her through a window then denied hospital treatment, that it had taken her months to recover. And no one knew the real story about his death the same night, when he was found with a cracked skull on the sidewalk outside his shitty state house. Killed by a disappointed client was the verdict.

But that wasn’t the real story. And only Connor knew that.

“I assume you’re talking about me?” His voice had gone weirdly flat.

“I’m talking about the fact neither of us have ever been straight with each other. No, I didn’t tell you about Jessica, but you’re not exactly open about your past either. You have secrets, don’t tell me you don’t. That tattoo on your back for a start.”

The tattoo he’d gotten at eighteen as a reminder. The one he carefully never managed to think about. A sword with the blade following down his spine.

Those who live by the sword shall die by the sword…

“The past has nothing to do with this, Victoria,” he said a harsh edge creeping into his tone. “This is about the present. About tonight. If you don’t want to tell me why you ran out then don’t. But don’t expect me to let it go if you do it again. Especially if it concerns me.”

She let out a breath. “Okay, you want to know the reason? I found it too much. You, me…what happened.”

“‘What happened’. Tell it like it is, Victoria.”

“Fine. The sex. You, me and the sex. After five years of nothing and then…that. It was just too much.”

He scowled at the computer screen in front of him, his jaw tight. “What do you mean too much? I thought you liked it. I thought—”

“I did like it. I liked everything about it. What you did. How you touched me. God, I even liked the way you called me a slut and a bitch.” She gave a strange, mirthless laugh. “And that’s why it was too much. Because that’s not me, Connor. I’m not a bitch. Or a slut. I don’t have sex with strangers while my ex-husband watches. And I don’t have a week of no-holds barred sex with said ex-husband either. I’m a very successful technology lawyer who is going to London in a few weeks to take up a very prestigious position, not…not….” She trailed off, as if she couldn’t bear to say it again.

He hadn’t been expecting honesty from her, still less, honesty that involved her actually acknowledging her desires.

He shifted in his chair, uncomfortable. Because he’d never done anything like that either. Never called a woman a slut. Or a bitch. Never told her to keep her wrists down while he fucked her, telling her she couldn’t come. It had just come pouring out of him and he hadn’t held it back. “There’s nothing wrong with liking any of that,” he said, a little roughly. “And it has nothing to do with you being a successful lawyer.”

“I can’t be both, Connor. I just can’t.”

“You don’t have to. At the end of this week, it’ll be over anyway so why not let yourself enjoy it while it lasts? That’s why I’m doing it.”

There was another long silence.

“Why has this never happened between us?” Her voice was quiet. “Why didn’t we do this before?”

This was edging into dangerous territory but he had to give her answer. She’d given him one after all. “You never gave me any sign you wanted me to.”

“And what would you have done if I had?”

You would have run.

“But you didn’t.”

“Connor.”

He shut his eyes. “I would have told you it couldn’t happen.”

There was a shocked pause. “But why? And what makes it different now?”

Oh Christ. Did he really have to go into this? Yet he found himself telling her all the same. “Because that’s not the kind of marriage I wanted. And it’s different now because we only have a week and after that you’re leaving.”

She was silent, the quiet on the other end of the phone making his chest tighten unexpectedly. Had he hurt her? He probably had.

“Look, I’m—”

“So what kind of marriage did you want?” she demanded abruptly, anger in her tone. “Cold and sexless? Passionless? And now I’m not any of those things, now I’m not your wife, I’m suddenly good enough to fuck?”

“Victoria—”

“We never talked about it, Connor. We never talked about what we wanted from each other. We never talked about anything. Not even whether we loved each other or not.”

The words were like stones striking against glass. Sharp and angry. Hard. Each one with the potential to break something, shatter it into pieces. Perhaps shatter him.

No, they’d never talked about love. And with good reason. Because as he knew from experience, love destroyed. It had twisted his father, nearly killed his mother, and he’d be damned if he let it destroy him.

He gripped the phone tight in his hands, the edge digging into his palm. “We had the kind of marriage we both wanted. I didn’t see you arguing.”

“No.” There was bitterness now in her tone. “You’re right. I didn’t.”

At that point there was a knock on his office door then it opened, his PA putting her head around it. “Your one fifteen is here. Do you want me to get them to wait?”

Connor shook his head and held up a hand in a five-minutes sign. “I have to go,” he said to Victoria, knowing this was the easy way out and not caring. He really didn’t want to keep talking about a marriage that was already over. It didn’t help anything. “Be there tonight, seven sharp.”

“Any requests as to clothing?” She sounded resigned.

“Tight should do it,” he said tersely. “I’ll see you then.” And ended the call.

Victoria stood before the white paneled front door of their—no, correction, Connor’s—house and smoothed down the tight black skirt she wore. She’d worked late that day and had decided not to bother going home, coming straight to Connor’s instead.

He’d told her to wear something tight, but her skirt was the only thing about her outfit that was and she wasn’t going to make a special trip home just for him. He’d have to put up with her plain dark blue blouse and her black business heels. She wasn’t in the mood to make consolations for him, especially not after that phone call.

She couldn’t understand why she’d said all those things to him. Asked him all those questions. Like it mattered. Because of course it didn’t matter. Their marriage was over and had been for years, and there was no point rehashing things.

We had the kind of marriage we both wanted.

And that was true. Their marriage
had
been exactly what both of them had wanted. Intellectual. Passionless. And completely safe. So why she felt a deep pain in her chest whenever she thought about it was anyone’s guess.

But it had nothing to do with them sleeping together. The sex now wouldn’t change the past and because it was only for a week, it had no impact on the future either.

In fact, she’d been thinking about it all afternoon and had come to the conclusion he was right. That she shouldn’t worry about the intensity of the chemistry burning between them. That it made no difference. After the week was over, it wouldn’t matter because she’d be gone, in which case why not indulge? Why not take this as far as it would go? What did she have to lose?

She could put it behind her once the week was up, once she was on her way to London and a new life. Chalk the marriage up to experience and move on. And in the meantime…

In the meantime you can have him in every way you can possibly imagine.

A shiver went through her as she knocked on the door. This time she couldn’t tell herself a part of her hadn’t been looking forward to tonight, no matter what had happened the night before. That a part of her had been hungry for it since she’d woken up this morning.

She wanted this and he was right. She needed to enjoy it while it lasted.

The door pulled open with a jerk and Connor was standing there in the doorway. He was still in a dark blue suit, white shirt, no tie. His hair looked mussed, his jaw hard and in his eyes the familiar spark of anger. It leapt as he took her in, his gaze dropping to her skirt then back up again.