Claiming Magique: 1 (16 page)

Yeah, anticipation was a bitch. It
had never prepared her for the real thing that always fell short, leaving her
yearning for more.

“Where are we going?” she asked
Wallace.

He’d picked her up a few minutes
earlier. Instead of heading toward one of Ronnie’s properties, he was taking a
route unfamiliar to
Alexa
.

“To your date,” he said.

She rolled her eyes, not caring
whether he saw her in the rearview mirror. “Yeah, I know that.
But where exactly?”

“Mr. Prescott asked that I leave it
as a surprise.”

Did
he
.
Alexa
had no doubt that he’d at least show up tonight,
unlike her parents. Because of that, she had a surprise of her own.

She ran her hands down her black
silk cape, womanly and mysterious, a garment she’d commissioned for a charity
ball several years ago. Ankle length, the wrap also sported a hood, which gave
it a dated look. Something a maiden might have worn on her journey to the rogue
hero in a romance novel.

Not that romance was on tonight’s
agenda. This was simply about having a good time, then saying goodbye.

Her chest ached at the thought even
as her nipples peaked and her pussy pulsed, wanting Hunt’s cock inside of her.
A promise he had better keep, that no one except him was going to have her
tonight.

“May I?” Wallace asked
,
gesturing to the car’s stereo.

He didn’t want to talk. Or rather,
he wasn’t in the mood to dodge any more of her questions.

She sighed.
“Of
course.”

He slipped in one of his CDs. The
first strains of
Yesterday
by the Beatles filled the vehicle.

Their melancholy music made Alex
feel
more alone than usual, not something she relished. She
hated being so needy for Hunt before even seeing him again. Liking him as much as
she did was freaking dangerous and something she’d never experienced with other
men. Many of them had kissed her with passion and skill, leaving her sated, but
not content. Some had teased, even giving her a mischievous wink, but it hadn’t
been the same as when Hunt had done so.

And which one of the others had
begged her not to speak Pig Latin?

She grinned at her memory of Hunt’s
first words to her, the effortless way he’d breached her defenses. What would
he do tonight when he was the only one allowed to speak, touch,
pleasure
her?

Oh God, she was so screwed.

Alexa
covered her face with her hand and tried to calm
down,
reminding herself her heart wasn’t his to have. She
wouldn’t give it to any man. Ronnie might have talked about her own regrets the
other night, not having someone to love, not building a family, but that was
only because she’d gotten ill again. If she’d been healthy, she’d be enjoying
herself.

No different from a man. How many of
them went through this kind of torture over a woman?

Was Hunt feeling anything even
remotely similar about her?

“Give him a chance,” Ronnie had
advised.

Sighing once more,
Alexa
dropped her hand and regarded the scenery. What the
hell? Wallace was heading away from the District toward Virginia. She tried to
recall a house Ronnie owned there and couldn’t. The woman’s country retreat was
in Maryland.

The song ended. The new one wasn’t
any better. A guy with a vague country accent kept repeating the same refrain
to someone named Honey, telling her how much he missed her and that he was
being good.

“How long before we get there?”
Alexa
cut in.

“Don’t worry. You’ll be on time. Mr.
Prescott insisted upon it.”

Of course he had. He was clearly
running this show, which disturbed and excited
Alexa
in equal measure. None of the men she’d enjoyed over the years had ever been so
bold with her. They did what she wanted or she refused to see them again. Hunt
hadn’t allowed that to stop him. He’d continued to pursue her.
On his terms.

Just as well tonight was going to be
the end.

Unwilling to dwell upon the
inevitable,
Alexa
forced herself to concentrate on
something else. Movies she’d seen or wanted to see occupied her thoughts. She
deliberated whether to buy a new Coach purse she’d admired on her last shopping
trip.

Business matters engaged her next,
including her projection for the agency. Tomorrow, she’d work on her plans to
expand it overseas. Several of her former schoolmates had already expressed an
interest in working for Ronnie’s competitors.
Might as well
work for her.
Europeans weren’t at all uptight about sex as Americans
tended to be. Ronnie shouldn’t limit herself to the States. In the past few
years, she’d been a bit more innovative, booking men as well as women for the
clients.
Time for
Alexa
to bring
the business to the next level.

A flurry of ideas consumed her—all
with Hunt in the starring role of alpha or Dom—until she realized Wallace had
slowed the Town Car a bit. She leaned closer to her window, noting the absence
of lights. If not for the heavy moon, she wouldn’t have been able to see the
tree-lined entrance they traveled down. Evergreen branches hung precariously
close to the car, their needles a silvery green, seeming to want to touch the
vehicle…like something out of a fairytale. Cinderella hooking up with Prince
Charming for an evening they’d never forget.

Unlike that story’s setting, this
area was rural and quite secluded, the drive opening onto an equestrian estate.
White fences crisscrossed the land, separating the pastures drenched in
moonlight.
Alexa
took in the entire scene, expecting
to see Hunt on a white or black stallion, riding toward her, his dark hair
tousled by the breeze, his handsome features shadowed and slightly dangerous.

The pastures were empty. Even when
Alexa
peered through the rearview window, she didn’t see
him chasing after them on horseback.

Disappointment gripped her.
Crud.

She slumped in her seat and lost her
frown. Ahead was a two-story mansion of Georgian Colonial design. Sprawling,
with a portico that boasted four columns, the home’s black shutters provided
quite a contrast to its white façade.
Alexa’s
imagination worked overtime again. Images flooded her mind of Rhett Butler
carrying Scarlett up the staircase for some wicked R and R.

However, tonight wasn’t going to be
a replay of that scene from
Gone with the Wind.
None of the lights were
on inside. Nor were they going there. Wallace took a road to the left that led
to a grassy area away from the house.

This was getting really interesting.

Alexa
craned her neck to see more, her fingers resting on the
window’s glass. The unusual spring weather had continued, the night warmer than
normal, the mild air scented with grass, flowers, pine.
A
combination of scents that reminded her of Easter and Christmas, days to look
forward to and celebrate.

What in the world had Hunt planned?

Making another turn, Wallace
directed the sedan up a slight incline. Countless stars dusted the sky,
lovelier than any holiday lights. The car reached the top. Wallace continued to
drive. Several yards ahead,
Alexa
saw a massive tent,
the kind used for outdoor weddings. This one was black, not white, and lit from
the inside. Its front flaps were
down,
not allowing
her to see what was within.

Gravel crunched beneath the
Lincoln’s tires. Wallace brought the vehicle to a gentle halt near the tent’s
entrance and turned off the CD player. “Have a good evening.”

Alexa
didn’t have the strength to thank him or to speak at all.
What was this place? Who owned it? Not Ronnie.
Alexa
knew about each of the woman’s holdings. It couldn’t be Hunt’s. He made a great
living as a lobbyist, but he wasn’t rich enough to afford a spread like this,
especially with him still supporting his mom, along with her many lovers.

Could it be Tim’s?
Maybe.

“Ms. Marsh?”

Wallace had turned in his seat to
look at her, his brows lifted, which deepened the lines in his forehead. His
expression appeared to question why she wasn’t exiting his vehicle. Clearly, he
wasn’t going to get the door for her as he always had.

Had Hunt told him not to? Did Hunt
want to make certain she came to him on her own?

Alexa
wondered what Wallace would do if she ordered him to turn
the car around and take her home? Would he refuse?

He inhaled deeply, sighing out his
words. “Is there a problem?”

“Have you spoken to Hunt?”

“Mr. Prescott? No.”

Liar.
She saw him struggling not to smile.

Before the suspense killed her or
Wallace removed her bodily from his car,
Alexa
got
out. Her gait was unsteady due to her spike heels on the gravel and a whole lot
of “what now?” zipping through her mind. She expected Hunt to emerge from the
tent to greet her, dressed in a tux perhaps or possibly nude.
His cock thick and hard, his balls plump.

She rested her hand on the sedan for
support, waiting for her dizziness to pass. The cape fluttered around her legs
with the caressing breeze. Warmth lingered in the air’s sweet scent.

The whirr of Wallace’s window going
down broke her inertia. “I’m going, all right?” she said quietly and stepped
away.

Without comment, he raised his
window and made a tight U-turn, then headed back down the rise, the car’s red
taillights becoming smaller and smaller, mere pinpoints in the gauzy moonlight.

Alone,
Alexa
regarded the tent, hearing music playing from inside. A jazz tune she
particularly liked.
Lots of bass and sax.
Steamy.
Seductive.

Taking a deep, calming breath that
did nothing to relax her,
Alexa
slipped through the
flaps and stared.

Black roses and jasmine were
everywhere, scenting the air with their sweet fragrance, the black-and-gold
lacquered vases that held them as tall as most men. Numerous candles in ornate
brass holders illuminated the space, giving it a dated, romantic quality.
Secluded and intimate.
The perfect place for two people to
indulge in each other away from anyone’s gaze.

The platform in the center dispelled
that notion quickly. It was a kind of stage with a large canopy bed made of
wrought iron, dressed in black silk.
Gossamer panels, as dark
as the bed linens, dangled over the posts.

In front of the bed, Hunt stood.

Alexa’s
lips parted in awe. She couldn’t look at him enough.

He wore an ebony shirt and pants,
the clothing draping his powerful form, accentuating its incredible beauty. A
pleased smile touched his lips. Unmistakable desire flared in his eyes. He said
nothing, nor did he leave the platform to greet her. He waited, no doubt
wanting her to come to him.

She might have run if she’d had the
strength. As it was, her body felt leaden, too heavy for movement. Breathing
was impossible, her need and wonder was so great. For once in her life,
anticipation hadn’t let her down. Hunt had truly outdone himself.

He’d claimed they wouldn’t be alone,
and they weren’t.

Alexa
regarded the men on either side of the wooden walkway
leading to the platform and bed. There were ten in all, dressed exactly as
Hunt, though he looked the best. She gave each of the guys a glance,
acknowledging their presence. It was only right, since she knew and had worked
with all of them at Ronnie’s agency, particularly Brad, Ethan, Kyle and Chris.

Those four were exceptionally
attractive. Kyle had the dark good looks advertisers coveted for male models
hawking men’s cologne. Ethan’s boy-next-door features would have easily given a
younger Matt Damon a run for his money. Brad and Chris were exotic in
appearance that didn’t quite jibe with their names. Both might have come from
Middle Eastern ancestry.

When clients demanded both a male
and a female, Kyle or one of the others had joined
Alexa
on the engagements. She considered them her friends, the extended family she’d
never had. They wouldn’t hurt her. She had no reason to be afraid.

Hunt had made certain of it, giving
Alexa
what she claimed to need…what she thought she wanted.
A buffer between him and herself so she wouldn’t risk her
heart.
He’d even made certain the area was scented with flowers that
matched her perfume.
Foolish man.
What she wanted to
smell was him.

Grateful tears stung her eyes. His
presence made her pussy ache for his touch, the thrill of him filling her,
driving back solitude and unhappiness she’d endured for too long.