A Sip of You (The Epicurean Series) (3 page)

“No,” I moaned long and loud as I pushed my breast into his hands.

“You’re close now, aren’t you?”

“Yes.” I was so close, edged closer as his fingers plucked and stroked and his mouth on my right nipple tongued and sucked. Everything inside me coiled into a tight ball in my core. I writhed against William, seemingly out of control. I felt the hard, steady pressure of his leg against my soaked panties. I panted, inching closer and closer...

He gave my sensitive, swollen right bud one last quick bite, followed by a long hard suck, and I crested over the edge, my body exploding into a shuddering orgasm so intense I couldn’t hold back my cries. Wave after wave of pleasure rippled through me, and I rode each one higher and higher until finally I spiraled slowly down and managed to open my eyes.

William lifted his head and gazed down at me. Every inch of me tingled and sparked, and in the soft warmth of the plane’s bed I could feel my skin gleaming with a light sheen of perspiration and a pale rosy warmth. My nipples were, amazingly enough, still rock hard and flushed dark pink. He was right.

“You glow after you come,” William said, looking into my eyes. “Like a deep, perfect blush. So beautiful. I could watch you come all day.”

I turned lazily to face him, and we lay on our sides, smiling at one another. I moved to press against him, feeling the hardness of his cock against my belly. I was only getting started. “Thank you for that,” I murmured, finally finding my voice. “I didn’t know...I mean, I’ve never…”

His brow lifted. “You’ve never come like that before?”

I smiled. “Not exactly.” I loved to have them played with, but a nipple orgasm was a first for me. Only with William. I giggled. “It felt amazing.
You’re
amazing. I loved it.” I loved
him.
This was what I had been wanting on this trip—the same closeness and intimacy we’d shared last night at the hotel.

I kissed him lightly, then more deeply as I drew my hand between our bodies and against the flat plane of his abdomen, then down to his thick erection. It was barely contained in his black boxer briefs, and I teased my fingers under the waistband and closed my hand around him. He pulsed against my palm as I ran my hand up to the smooth tip and down to the wide, veined root.

“Now, let me do something for you,” I said, still stroking him. “And I’m going to stick with the high school theme.”

His expression was amused and also a little wary. “I have no idea what you’re thinking. Should I be nervous?”

William nervous? This was new. He’d used anticipation to heighten my arousal several times. Now I wanted to see if I could have the same effect on him.

“Now it’s your turn to trust me, William. It’ll be fun.” I sat up.

“Fun?”

“You’ll like it. Just lay back, and close your eyes. Don’t look.”

He studied me for a moment longer, and I feared he’d refuse. He didn’t like surprises or any situation that veered off plan. His eyes were sharp and blue now, narrowed and serious. “Okay.” He rolled onto his back. “I surrender. Do what you will with me.”

A giddy feeling swept through me, but I tamped it down. “Oh, I plan to. To begin, I don’t think we need these.” I slid his boxer briefs down, pausing so he could lift his slim hips and then tugging them slowly down his sculpted legs. When they reached his ankles, he kicked them off and onto the floor. “Keep your eyes closed,” I said, glancing at his face and then back to his impressive erection. There was nothing about William’s body that didn’t impress me. From his broad chest to his trim waist, he had the kind of body I’d expect to see in a calendar of hot firemen—only I had the X-rated version before me, with his beautiful cock jutting up, eagerly waiting for me.

“Very nice, Mr. Lambourne,” I purred. “I promise I won’t leave you in this painful state for long.”

He threw an arm over his eyes. “I’m not promising to keep my eyes closed for much longer, and the anticipation is killing me.”

I was counting on the anticipation playing a part in this little seduction. Resisting the urge to stroke him once more, I slid off the bed. “Give me just a minute.” I padded to the well-appointed bathroom, still marveling at its size. It was practically as big as my bathroom at home and nicer than it too.

“Catherine?”

“Coming!

I opened cabinets and drawers until I found what I needed. In the mirror, I caught a reflection of myself. My brown hair was mussed about my shoulders, and my eyes looked huge and soft green against the pink glow of my cheeks. When I returned, William still had his arm thrown over his face, and I smiled as I sat beside him. “This will be a little cold at first.”

“What?” His body tensed, and I couldn’t stop a smile.

“Relax.” I poured a large blob of expensive-looking lavender hand lotion into my hand. I allowed it to warm for a few seconds and then wrapped my wet palm around William’s engorged shaft. He jerked and then stilled, his body at attention. I stroked him, working the thick, rich lotion in, tightening my grip as I slid my coiled fingers over the impressive length of him.

“Catherine.” His hips moved, pushing his cock into my hand. “Are you jerking me off?” He was smiling, but the tightness in his voice indicated he was very worked up. I continued my rhythmic movements

“Uh huh.”

William’s fingers clenched and unclenched the sheets as I stroked him. Without ceasing, I maneuvered myself between his legs and cupped his heavy balls with my other hand. I bent and trailed kisses along his inner thigh, letting the coarse hair on his leg tickle my cheek and my bare breast. He hissed in a breath, and I saw his fingers curl and uncurl again. I had him all but squirming. Which was majorly turning me on.

His cock swelled in my fist, filling it almost completely. The veins were thick and pulsing now as my hand worked the engorged flesh. Slower then faster. William surrendered to my efforts, his hips rocking and his hands clenching and unclenching. He moaned, sounds of ecstasy even he, the god of control, couldn’t suppress. I felt his body tensing, his pleasure mounting. I was enjoying this—having the chance to watch him for once. His jaw clenched and his hand fell away from his eyes, which were tightly shut.

“I’m close.” His voice was taut and controlled, and in that moment he opened his eyes and focused solely on me.

 “Just let go.” I closed my hand tightly and sped up my movements.

“Oh God, Catherine.” His voice was husky with need and, with our eyes locked, I watched his face, wanting to see him go over the edge as I milked him. His entire body rose up, and I knew he was there. Suddenly his hand joined mine, and we pumped his shaft together until his back bowed and he released. His expression was beautiful in that moment—ecstasy and agony combined.

Finally, when his body began to relax, he sighed. It was a long, contented sigh. “That was fucking amazing. I can’t remember the last time someone gave me a hand job. Thank you.” He leaned up and pulled me into a deep kiss, his tongue softly tangling with mine.

I pulled away first and laughed. “You’re welcome. You’ve never come like that before?” I asked, blinking with mock innocence.

He gave me a smirk. “Sometimes you’re very naughty, aren’t you?” He pulled me into his arms and kissed me deeply again—a playful kiss, but laced with emotion too. I leaned into him contentedly. I could stay here forever, in our own private world, far, far away from all the stresses and realities of real life. He pulled back slightly and murmured, “I loved your hand.” A frisson of desire zinged through me in response to just the tone of his voice. It amazed me that I never seemed to get enough of William. The more he satiated me, the more I craved him. His hand cupped my sex. “But I love this more.” He stroked my cleft, and I felt my damp panties press against the tender flesh. There was that word again—
love
. I moaned quietly, pushing harder against his hand.

“I wish we had more time, but...” He drew away and studied his right wrist and the cheap drugstore watch I’d given him this morning when he returned the Patek Philippe to me. “We are either about to land”—he glanced at his Rolex on his left hand—”or we have just enough time to get cleaned up before we land.”

I slapped his chest playfully. My Walgreen’s watch was black, plastic, and chronically fast, and William liked to tease me about what Beckett called “Cat Time,” my habit of running ten minutes late for just about everything. But he was wearing my watch and, even if the time was wrong, it meant a lot to me that he still had it on. I would have been happy to snuggle back under the covers with him, but he sat up and pulled me with him. “Hop to it,
girlfriend
.” He grinned at me. We were both still getting used to our new relationship status, and terms like
boyfriend
and
girlfriend
were novelties to us both. William rose. “We’re almost in California.”

About thirty minutes later, William and I were strapped in as the jet landed at Napa County Airport. The Xanax must have worked because William didn’t crush my hand when he held it this time, and he was able to chat a little, mentioning that the airport was about thirty miles from his estate in St. Helena.

Estate
. I wasn’t sure what differentiated a regular house from an estate, but I knew
ordinary
didn’t apply to anything related to William. I’d find out soon enough.

I held William’s hand eagerly as we exited the jet and blinked into the setting sun of early evening in California. It was only a little after five o’clock here, and the sun was low on the horizon, about to dip below the brown landscape of mountains.

I had the overwhelming sense that I was home as soon as I saw the mountains and felt the cool breeze in my hair. It was chilly, but it didn’t cut through me like the biting wind in Chicago. And there was a smell too, of green grass and trees and sunshine. I’d forgotten that smell, but I recognized it now and it permeated everything underneath the more powerful odors of jet fuel and exhaust.

William led me down the steps pushed against the side of the plane, and I noted the larger jet had already arrived. George Graham, William’s assistant, and several other members of William’s team were lined up in two clusters on the tarmac a little distance away, waiting for us. I felt a bit like a visiting dignitary and smiled at the idea of approaching George and curtseying. Since he didn’t seem to possess a sense of humor, he probably wouldn’t get the joke. George was short and stocky with clipped silver hair and a military bearing and I didn’t think I’d ever seen him smile.

When we touched the asphalt, George came forward immediately, and I noted his
Men in Black
suit was perfectly pressed despite the long flight. “Good evening, Mr. Lambourne.” George nodded to me. “Miss Kelly.” Unlike Anthony, who was friendly, I was perfectly happy to have George continue calling me
Miss Kelly
.

“A word, Mr. Lambourne.”

William shot me an apologetic look. “Give me just a minute.” He kissed me lightly on the cheek and stroked my upper arm, then stepped away with George. They walked as they spoke, heading toward the second group of two or three people. I stood there alone, feeling momentarily uncertain, and then moved toward the first group, where Anthony smiled at me and William’s executive assistant, Parker, stood scrolling through a Smartphone. As I approached, she glanced up, gave me a quick smile, and asked, “Is there anything I can get for you, Miss Kelly?”

“No, thanks. I’m fine,” I said, distracted by watching William and George reach the second group of people, who were only a few feet away from us. With the roar of the jet engines, I couldn’t make out anything that was being said.

“Just let me know if you change your mind, Miss Kelly.” Parker added.

“Please, it’s Catherine. And I don’t need anything, thanks,” I replied as I kept watching. I didn’t recognize anyone in that group, and then I spotted a beautiful, statuesque, dark-haired woman. I didn’t recognize her either, but she was hard to ignore. She wore a tight black skirt and a matching jacket, with four-inch stilettos accenting her already long, lean legs. Generous cleavage swelled at the V of her jacket, and she had the famous California tan I missed seeing when I looked in the mirror. Her wide, dark brown eyes were fastened unapologetically on me, and she didn’t look away when our gazes clashed. I didn’t recognize her, but William obviously did. He enfolded her in a warm embrace then kissed her on the cheek.

Jealousy stabbed through me and I had to look away. I’d spent years with Jace on beaches all over the world, surrounded by women in bikinis who were more than happy to attempt to entice a famous surfer. But I never worried about Jace and I’d never felt even so much as a twinge of envy when he talked to one of his fawning, flirty fans. But everything between William and me was so new. I never thought I was a jealous person, but I’d already had moments of jealousy with him and now I was having another one. I needed to get a grip, but I had a thousand questions, most importantly: who the hell was this woman and who was she to William?

I returned my gaze to William and watched as he seemed to linger beside her. She was perfectly comfortable touching him, stroking his shoulder and placing her hand possessively on his forearm. In fact, she seemed to touch him as much as possible, even making certain her breast rubbed against his arm when she stood beside him. I shifted impatiently, waiting for William to walk back or call me over and introduce us, but after a few moments, it became clear that wasn’t going to happen. After yet another embrace, she moved away, leaving William to exchange a few more private words with George.

What the hell was that?
I thought as I clenched my hands by my sides. My heart was racing and I felt nervous and jittery all over. How could William be so solicitous, so attuned to my every need in the bedroom and then forget something basic like introducing me, his girlfriend, once we arrived? I stood awkwardly and unsure on the tarmac, my face heated with embarrassment and anger.

I tried to be discrete, but I kept looking over at her. She was tall and willowy—I’d bet money that she was a former something, actress or model. I could totally see it.

I tried to reassure myself. William had brought me. He’d said he needed me. Not an hour ago, we’d been pleasuring one another on his private plane. It was me he’d had his mouth and hands on just minutes ago. It was my hand that had made him come. I clenched my hands again and willed all these ridiculous insecurities away. It felt like the Art Institute all over again—my worst first date ever—but instead of Chicago ice princess socialite Lara Kendall, a brunette California version was staring daggers at me from just a few feet away. Great. William still hadn’t spilled the details of his previous relationship with Lara and that still irked me, though he’d made it clear there was nothing and had never been anything serious between them. He’d probably tell me the same thing about this woman. If I asked. But I wasn’t sure I wanted to.

With nothing else to do but stew and imagine the worst, I stood in place, alone, and peered about the airport, inhaling the sweet, familiar air and staring at the mountains in the distance. I’d missed the jagged landscapes of California. Illinois was so flat, the vistas unrelieved except by an occasional glimpse of the lake. But as much as I longed for this home, that ball of dread was rolling around in my stomach. I remembered leaving California. Vividly. It felt like another life, and like I’d been another person. And I had been. I was Cat Ryder then, not Catherine Kelly. So much had changed in the last year.

Finally, William looked as though he was wrapping up. He nodded to George and then strode to me. “Come on,” he said with a smile, taking my hand and squeezing it. “I have something to show you.”

As we walked toward the small terminal, he pulled me close to him, close enough that I could smell the lavender body wash from his quick shower on the jet after our fooling around. I smiled back at him, his anticipation contagious, but as I looked over my shoulder at the plane we’d just exited and at his people now scattering across the tarmac, I couldn’t help but feel that making this trip was a big mistake.

***

“Your luggage is already on the way to the house,” William said once we entered the terminal. Another one of the perks of traveling like the super rich, I supposed.

“What’s it like, this house of yours?” I asked as we walked through an empty waiting area. William’s penthouse was majorly impressive, so I had no idea what to expect in St. Helena. He didn’t answer, so I kept chattering. “You haven’t mentioned anything about it and I’m so curious.” I was trying to keep things light and cheerful and I really was excited, but I was also doing everything I could to not ask about the sexy brunette in his welcoming committee. He just smiled and led me to the exit.

We stepped outside and William paused, then veered me toward a stunning vintage silver Porsche convertible parked at the curb. I looked up and his smile had broadened into a wide grin

“Wow,” I said as I stopped and admired the car.

William walked to the passenger side and opened the door for me. “Get in,” he said.

I did and he waited until I pulled my legs in and buckled my seatbelt before he closed the door.
He’s being so sweet
, I thought as I watched him round the front of the car. He was still all smiles, his gait easy. He seemed more relaxed here, more comfortable, while I was trying not to let on that I was anything but.

Once he was in the driver’s seat, he turned and asked, “Will you be warm enough? I’d like to keep the top down, but I’ll put it up if you want.”

“I’ll be fine,” I smiled. “Top down. Definitely.” I was wearing a sweater, and after witnessing William’s welcoming committee, I could use a little cooling off.

“Excellent choice. Ready?”

I nodded. William smiled again and then started the engine. The car turned over with a purr and we pulled away. The clear sky was streaked with the colors of the setting sun as we sped out of the airport, and my heart felt too full when William took my hand and entwined his fingers with mine.

The wind was whipping my hair around my face and I wished I had a ponytail holder, but it wasn’t too loud to talk. “So this is a Porsche, right?” I asked. Of course it was a Porsche, but I also couldn’t help but notice that he seemed particularly proud of it and I wanted to know why. As wealthy as he was, I hadn’t seen him act so attached to a
thing
before, so this was new.

“Yep,” he answered. “This is my California car.”

“It’s the perfect car for here,” I said. “When did you get it?”

“It was my father’s, actually.”

I swallowed my surprise and attempted to act nonchalant. William so rarely talked about his family. I knew there was something special about this car.

He nodded and continued, “It’s a 1969 Speedster. My mother gave it to my father for his fortieth birthday. I was about five and I remember what a big deal it was. My father loved this car. He kept it at our lake house and only drove it in the summers. It was put in storage after they died.”

My heart clenched. This was why I came to California. This was the side of William I wanted to see. “Why did you get it out of storage?”

He shrugged. “I wanted to drive it. I wanted to drive it my whole life. After I bought the vineyard in Napa, I had it restored and shipped out here.” Then he smiled. “It
is
the perfect car for California.”

And he looked perfect in it. His dark hair whipped back from his face, showcasing his strong cheekbones and straight nose. He had the most beautiful profile of any man I’d ever met, especially with the golden light of the early evening flickering across his skin. He looked a whole lot more comfortable and relaxed driving the Porsche than he ever did behind the wheel of his black Range Rover in Chicago.

William squeezed my hand again before releasing it to grab the gear shift. “Hang on. It’s about a forty minute drive.” He shifted, and the car jumped smoothly forward.

I laughed from sheer pleasure, and he laughed with me. Neither of us had forgotten the reason we were in California. Wyatt was never far from my thoughts or, I’m sure, William’s, but already he seemed happier here. I’d never seen him smile or laugh so much. Maybe it had been a good decision to come with him after all. I started to relax a little too.

The drive was amazing, even for a native Californian like me. I’d been to Napa before, but I never paid much attention to the rolling hills and green square fields, divided into rows and rows of grapes. I wanted to grab my camera and shoot a few landscapes, but I knew I’d have time for that later. William threaded his fingers through mine or rested his hand on my thigh when he didn’t need to shift, and his touch helped keep me warm.

Finally, William turned into a drive lined with trees. “We’re almost there,” he said. The drive was long and straight, slightly uphill, and the trees formed a canopy overhead until we finally emerged. Set among lush bushes and more trees was a very large Mediterranean-style stucco house with a vivid red tile roof. “This is home,” William said.

I glanced at him, surprised. This house was the antithesis of everything I’d known of William so far. In Chicago, his penthouse, his office, everything about him was sleek, modern, and minimalist to the point of being cold and impersonal. This place was the exact opposite.

He was looking at me, so I cleared my throat and tried to think of something to say. “It’s beautiful.”

“Welcome to Casa di Rosabela.”

The house had a name? Was I in the Twilight Zone? William owned a house with a name. I don’t know why this surprised me, but it did.

“It was built in the 1920s,” he said as he slowed the car and pulled around the circular drive to stop in front of the door. “I didn’t name it. The Italian man who built it and established the vineyard here named it for his wife.”

“That’s so romantic.”

“It is, isn’t it?” He climbed out of the car and though I unbuckled my seatbelt and reached for the door, he was there before I could open it. He helped me out, then rested his hand lightly on the small of my back and guided me toward the house.

I couldn’t help but stare at the house and manicured grounds and marvel. I wondered how much something like this went for. Ten million? Twenty million maybe? Caught up in my astonishment, I missed half of what William was saying and finally tuned back in when he led me through the front door. “It’s eleven-thousand square feet with about thirty acres dedicated to grapes plus an olive orchard.”

I nodded, mutely, as he led me by the hand into a large open living room. The floors were tiled and the high ceilings had exposed wooden beams. Huge windows overlooked the sloping vineyard with its perfect rows extending as far as I could see. Beyond them, in the last light of dusk, sat majestic hills, stately sentinels of all they surveyed.

The entire place was meticulously and very expensively decorated in what I’d call
California chic
, traditional but with a clean modern flair, and complimented by a gorgeous art on just about every wall. I didn’t know where to look first. William led me on a tour and I saw the screening room, the gym, and the small tasting room, and peeked at the outdoor area, fully equipped with a pool, fireplace, outdoor kitchen, and dining area. William told me there were two guest casitas and buildings for the work of the winery. It was late, and he promised to show me those tomorrow.