Her tortured moans filled the air.
Damien withdrew his hand from in between Niveah’s legs and frantically searched his pockets. They weren’t going to make it to his suite. Not when she was bucking against him like a wild woman on a runaway bull. He retrieved the condom just as the elevator doors slid open.
Niveah surfaced from her haze. It was a miracle she was still standing. Voices carried down the hall, reminding her that she was still at the Ritz-Carlton, and not back in her bedroom playing out a hot, torrid fantasy. Since she didn’t want to kick off the year flashing perfect strangers in a hotel she frequented for business, she straightened her dress, and yanked up her stockings. How the hell did my stilettos come off? she wondered, stuffing her feet back into her red Fendi shoes. Probably somewhere between Damien palming my breasts, and fingering my clit, she surmised, still feeling the after affects of her mini-orgasm.
Niveah almost lost her balance when Damien seized her hand. “This way,” he said, making a sharp left turn. “My suite is at the end of the hall.”
A green light flashed when Damien slid his key card into the slot above the door. Opening it with one hand, he gently urged her inside with the other. Niveah almost stumbled over her feet. This was actually going to happen; she was about to have her first one-night stand. Doubts attacked her like invisible assailants hiding in the dark. Her mind was screaming, No, don’t do it!, but her body was screaming, Yes! Yes! Yes! What the hell was she supposed to do?
Warmed by Damien’s good-natured smile, she shoved her fears aside and stepped farther into the suite. The air smelled like men’s aftershave, and the light from the moon spilling in through the balcony created a peaceful, tranquil mood.
Damien came up behind her, so close that she could feel his erection through her dress. Goose bumps broke out across her arm. He—Niveah gulped—couldn’t be that long, could he? He gripped her shoulders, then buried his face into her hair. Damien placed kisses along the slope of her neck, and her head fell flat against his chest. Using his hands, he tweaked her nipples and massaged her clit simultaneously.
A fire brewed in Niveah’s stomach, causing her to moan. The ache between her legs grew to a full-blown throb. Then her heart got into the mix, skipping, thumping, rattling. Niveah never knew it could be like this. Never knew that she could want someone this much.
It started with a surge in her chest, then uncontrollable shaking and shortness of breath. Before she could ward against the onslaught, several fast, hard climaxes gripped her. Pleasure exploded behind Niveah’s eyes. Damien was going to kill her. Right here in the middle of his luxurious executive suite. Her desire for him couldn’t be contained, and she was quickly losing control. Screaming, grunting, begging Damien for more.
Time slipped away. Stretched into passion-filled seconds and minutes.
Niveah didn’t know how much more of this she could take. It was just a matter of time before she was gasping for air and her legs gave way. Moaning in sweet agony, she arched her back, fully prepared to ride out another looming orgasm. Damien cupped her chin, and kissed her so fully, so passionately, Niveah felt as if she was spinning on a carousel. Her shoes fell off, her dress sailed down her hips, and her fifty-dollar nylons lay in pieces on the floor.
Still kissing, they stumbled farther into the suite, knocking into end tables, couch legs and other furniture. Down to just her panties, her body throbbing with heat and desire, she dragged her fingernails up his chest, across his neck, and over his head. Moving to an inaudible beat, Niveah rocked her hips against his shaft. Grinding her backside into his crotch caused Damien to release a savage groan. Wanting to give as much as she’d received, Niveah reached around, unzipped his pants and massaged his erection. Touching him confirmed it. The brother was hung. Like Mandingo. Long, thick and righteously built.
Damien swiveled his tongue around her nipples, licked between her breasts and trailed his mouth down her spine. Niveah sucked in a breath, sure she was about to black out. The more aggressive Damien was, the more turned-on she was. Everything about him was erotically charged and exciting. He had great hands, hands a masseur would kill for, and he knew how she liked to be touched. Damien kissed like he was making love to her mouth, thrilled her every time he nuzzled his face against the curve of her ear, and whispered dirty commands in that deep, throaty tone. His voice, like his smile and gaze, made her weak.
Is this for real, or am I dreaming? Niveah wondered, feeling light-headed and free.
Undressing faster than a superhero in a telephone booth, Damien ripped open a gold packet, protected himself with the Magnum condom, and bent Niveah over the closest chair. “Spread your legs. Spread them nice and wide for me.”
Niveah did as she was told, and was rewarded with a kiss on her shoulder. Damien pulled her hair, great big handfuls, as he positioned himself between her legs. He piqued her pleasure when he caressed her butt, tenderly, lovingly. His stroke felt great on her neck, back and thighs.
“You feel like heaven,” he praised, gliding his hands up her hips to her breasts. This woman—not the Mona Lisa—was the finest work of art he’d ever seen, but when Damien told Niveah she was gorgeous, she laughed. “You don’t believe me?” Damien cupped her chin. The heat of his gaze torched her flesh, made her feel as if she was on display. “Since you don’t believe me, I guess I’ll have to show you.”
Slowly, he slid his penis along her clit. Back and forth until she cried out. Begged. Pleaded. Cursed. Demanded he slip inside her. When he finally did, she released a torrent of screams. Niveah pressed her face into a cushion to muffle her moans. This wasn’t like her. Only porn stars groaned and grunted during sex. That’s what they were paid for. To play it up for the cameras. But the more Damien swiveled his lips, the louder, more intense her groans became.
Feet firmly planted on the ground, she held on to the arms of the padded chair and rocked her hips against his groin. Damien swelled inside her. At least three inches. He hit all of her hot spots, and created body-quivering sensations that brought tears to her eyes. With his hands and his words, he took her to new heights and deeper depths.
Her breathing picked up.
Her moans intensified.
The room spun faster, and faster.
Colors—vivid pinks and whites and red—exploded behind Niveah’s eyes, causing her to choke back a deep, racking sob.
“Damn!” Damien pulled out, then turned her to face him. “Are you okay? Did I hurt you?”
Niveah shook her head. “You didn’t hurt me. I just …” Embarrassed, she lowered her eyes to the floor. “It just felt so good that … that it made me a little emotional. That’s all.”
“We’ll stop. The last thing I wanted to do was cause you pain or make tonight all about me. I lost control and I feel like an ass for …”
Niveah wanted to scream. Why wasn’t he listening to her? Couldn’t he tell how incredible he was making her feel? To end his rant, she placed a finger against his lips, cutting him off. “This night is far from over. I plan to finish what you started, even if it takes all night.”
Full of energy and determination, she circled his nipple with her tongue, licking, teasing, stroking. She wanted to ravage him, prove to herself that she was a good lover, that the accusations her ex-fiancé had leveled at her the night of their breakup were unfounded. To show him that she was in charge, that the tables had turned and that she was running the show, Niveah grabbed his butt and gave it an extra hard squeeze. Her breathing was shallow, and her body was burning up, but Niveah wanted more. A lot more kissing, teasing and licking.
“Are you sure about this, Niveah?” Concern touched his features, and his eyes were crinkled at the corners. “I don’t want you