Sugar on the Edge (28 page)

His publisher’s party is a sight to behold, taking up the entire grand ballroom of Chicago’s Waldorf Astoria. Ice sculptures, a ten-piece band, caviar, champagne, tuxedos, and ball gowns. It’s an entire world away from where I live, yet dancing here in Gavin’s arms, I feel completely comfortable for the moment.

“Although I would have preferred buying you a dress,” Gavin says as his thumb strokes my lower back, “I’m going to have to admit this one you borrowed from Alyssa is beyond amazing.”

When Gavin told me there would be a black-tie event we’d have to attend, I went into a panic. I didn’t own a ball gown, and I certainly didn’t have the money with which to buy one. He had offered, gallant and sexy man that he is, to buy me one, citing that it would just be a write off for him to be able to dress his “assistant,” but I declined. Despite all the intimate touches and shared orgasms, I didn’t feel comfortable with Gavin buying me expensive clothing.

Alyssa, heiress to a fortune and luckily my exact size, came to my rescue and pulled me into her closet the day before yesterday, telling me to take my pick of dresses to borrow. My eyes bugged out of my head as I rifled through the rainbow of silks, chiffons, and velvets.

I chose a simple, champagne-colored, strapless sheath gown that was ruched at my breasts and fell in a straight line to the floor. It had a long slit up the back, and Alyssa gave me a pair of matching strappy sandals that I’m betting cost more than three months’ rent to go with it.

“I’m glad you like the dress,” I tell him, and then mischievously add, “I’m going to enjoy you taking me out of it more.”

Gavin chuckles and squeezes me tighter to him. “Where did my shy Sweet go? You’re so bold now.”

“You like it,” I tease.

“I love it,” he says solemnly and bends to kiss me under my jaw. “How much longer do you think we need to stay?”

“Well, since you’re one of the guests of honor, I’m thinking it would be poor form to leave before dinner,” I say sadly, because honestly, there’s nothing I’d love more than for Gavin to whisk me back to our hotel room and practice dirty things upon my body.

“I can’t wait to have you all to myself,” Gavin murmurs. “The things I’m going to do to you tonight.”

I can’t help the shiver that wracks my body, his words slicing right through my skin and taking my nerves hostage.

“You have the most powerful words,” I tell him while stroking the silk piping on his lapels. “They threaten to drop me to my knees sometimes.”

“Then we’re even,” he says as he spins me around and dips me low. His face hovering over mine, he whispers for my ears only, “Just looking at you makes my knees weak.”

He lifts me up again and, as the last notes of the song fade away, gives me a lovely PDA kiss. I sigh. When he pulls back, I touch his face and ask with wonder, “How did I get so lucky to find you?”

Gavin smiles… with understanding, with sadness, and even a little touch of humility. “I’m the lucky one, Sweet. Nothing is ever going to be the same again.”

No, nothing will be the same. My body, for one, will never respond to another man the way it responds to Gavin. That’s not because of any special talent on his part, although he has talent in spades. His tongue for instance.

I won’t respond to another because my heart is tied up with Gavin now in a way that has never belonged to another man before. It’s been completely enslaved by him, and he alone has the power to cultivate or destroy it, but whatever he chooses, my life is on a different path now.

Gavin leads me off the dance floor by my hand. Halfway back to our table, I’m struck with sudden inspiration. Tugging on his hand, I get him to stop, and he looks at me with a smile.

Stepping in close, I rise up on my tiptoes and whisper to him, “I think I want to get filthy with you.”

His eyebrow cocks at me in amusement, and he leans in and kisses my nose. “You think or you know? Because I assured you I’d do you right tonight.”

“Not tonight… not later. Right now.”

Molten heat flares in Gavin’s eyes, and his hand squeezes mine reflexively… almost painfully. His voice is rough when he asks, “Right now?”

“Right this very minute,” I confirm.

Gavin spins on his foot and starts walking with large strides to the doors of the ballroom. I have to run to keep up with him, my one hand firmly grasped in his, the other holding up the long length of my dress so I don’t trip on it. He leads me out of the party, down a hall, and straight to the ladies’ bathroom. Pushing the door open, he strides right in, pulling me along, only have to have several women all wearing gowns and applying lipstick turn to look at him and gasp.

“Fuck,” he mutters and backs out, pushing me along.

He starts walking again, down another hall, randomly checking doors. One says, “Accounting,” another says “Food Services.” All locked.

I can feel the frustration rolling off him in waves, and I have to struggle not to giggle. Finally, he finds a door that says, “Service Staff Only” and pushes through. It leads to another corridor, this time paved with white tile rather than the sumptuously, deep carpeting in the public part of the hotel. On the third door he tries, which says “Janitorial Supplies,” he hits pay dirt, and the door swings open. He pushes me through and follows me inside.

The light comes on automatically, apparently by sensor, and I glance around in interest at row after row of metal shelving stocked with a variety of cleaning agents, paper products, and linens. Thankfully, there’s a lock on the door, which Gavin gives a quick turn, and the click causes me to turn and face him.

He smiles at me sinfully.

Then he’s on me.

In one large stride, he’s pushing me backward until my back hits against the far wall. He grabs fistfuls of my dress and drags it up, leaning sideways and back a bit to get a look at what I have on underneath. I know he’s pleased when his nostrils flare at the champagne-colored lace thong I bought to match the dress.

“Oh, Sweet,” he breathes out in a rush. “So fucking sweet.”

His hand comes down between my legs and fingers the edge of my panties. He strokes me softly, almost as if he’s considering his next move. My blood is on fire and the prospect that we’ve just left a party where Gavin is surely to be missed, and are in a supply closet in a major luxury hotel that is no doubt frequented by the staff, has me buzzing with nervous energy and lustful need.

“Um… baby. We’re kind of on short time… don’t you think we need to get at it?” I ask sweetly.

Gavin groans and slips his finger into my underwear. “Need to make sure you’re ready… that you can take me.”

When his finger slides into me, he finds that I am indeed ready, because just the prospect of what we are about to do was all the foreplay I needed. My hips flex hard against his hand, driving his finger in deeper.

“More,” I demand. “Now.”

Gavin groans again and his hand gives a hard pull against my underwear, shredding the flimsy lace down one side. The remaining remnants flutter down my leg, catching at my ankle. I’m pinned by Gavin’s eyes as he stares at me hotly, all the while working at his fly. His cock springs free and my hands immediately go around it, stroking the velvety hardness.

“No time for that, love,” he pants and reaches down to pick me up. My legs go around him, he pushes me back into the wall again, and his cock nudges at my entrance. “This has to be hard and fast.”

He slams into me, and I burn in pleasure. My hands grip onto his shoulders, and I bring my mouth down onto his hard. We both groan with mutual satisfaction, and his hips start pumping against me quickly. He thrusts in, pulls out to the tip, perfectly timing it and tunneling back into me again.

Every nerve I have is on fire, my blood singing in joy over the way he feels inside of me, and I urge him on. “Harder, baby. Faster.”

“You’re killing me, Sweet,” he groans into my mouth and fucks me harder and faster.

“I’m getting close,” I tell him because I can feel the quickening of my pulse and my muscles starting to tense up all over.

“Me too,” he pants as he pushes his face against my neck. His lips latch onto my delicate skin, and he sucks at me hard.

Moving his hand between my legs, his thumb finds my clit and he starts circling it with swift pressure, matching the strokes of his cock as it works me over.

He’s brutal, he’s brilliant, and he’s completely mine.

Suddenly, I’m shattering, my hands coming to his head and my nails digging in his scalp. He slams into me one more time, so hard, I think I might have a bruise on my lower back, and then he is murmuring into my neck. “I’m coming. Fuck, I’m coming so hard.”

Start to finish, even including the time that Gavin knelt down and used my torn panties to clean his semen from between my legs, we couldn’t have been gone for more than ten minutes top. But damn… that was probably the best ten minutes of my life, and I was hungry to do something like that again real soon.

I’m exhausted. Only a week back from Chicago, and then I was jetting back out to The Big Apple. I’ve been in New York for two days, which were two days too many in my opinion. I had two book signings, a meeting with my editor, a meeting with the marketing team for my publisher, and finally, a meeting with Lindie. I was on the go constantly, meeting people, talking about my work, and promoting myself.

I hated every fucking bit of it, mainly because I had to leave Savannah back home. She was supposed to come with me but the night before we were to leave, she wasn’t feeling well. By the next morning, her nose was running, her voice was hoarse, and she was coughing so hard that I was afraid she’d expel a lung.

I immediately jumped out of bed when I heard her, got her some Tylenol and orange juice, then pulled my phone out of my pocket.

“What are you doing?” she had croaked while she looked up at me weakly from the bed.

“Canceling my trip,” I told her as I flipped through my contacts for Lindie’s number.

“No you’re not,” she said, and her voice sounded like it was coated in razor blades.

“Babe… you’re sick. I’m not leaving you.”

“It’s a cold, Gavin. Just a cold, I’m sure.”

“I’ve never heard a cold sound like that,” I retorted, and she gave a deep, lusty cough as if to prove my point.

“You’re not canceling,” she said firmly. “I just need some cold medicine and rest. I’ll be fine in a few days’ time.”

“And who will take care of you while I’m gone?” I growled at her.

She grinned at me then… her nose red and runny, and she fucking grinned at me. “You are so cute when you play mother hen,” she said with a laugh, and then another cough. “But I can take care of myself.”

“Let me at least take you to the doctor,” I told her, stuffing my phone back in my pocket.

“You can’t. You have to pack and get to the airport, but I promise I’ll go to the doctor if I’m not feeling better by tomorrow. Okay?”

I grumbled then, muttered a curse word under my breath, and watched as she grinned at me again and started clucking like a chicken. “Mother hen,” she teased.

I reluctantly packed, tried to give her a kiss before I left, to which she refused because she didn’t want me to get sick. I then had to point out that I had fucked her silly the previous night and had my mouth all over her, including my tongue down her throat, and that I wasn’t that worried about getting sick. She still refused me and offered me a handshake.