Claiming Magique: 1 (13 page)

Dammit, get a grip.

“Your visitors are in the master
suite,” the girl said, her English heavily accented from her native Portuguese.

Alexa
moved up the staircase, forcing herself to concentrate on
the home’s stark and arresting décor. Black marble floors complemented the
walls papered in gray silk. Decorative sconces in geometric designs were a
startling white, matching the many doors that lined the hall.

At the end of it was the master
suite. Just past its double doors, Tim and David waited for her.

Two great-looking guys any woman
would have been happy to share an evening with. David was such a doll, so damn
sweet and giving, while Tim was more BS than he realized.
Alexa
had seen his confidence wane when he’d found her and Hunt in the bath, clinging
to each other like Leonardo
DiCaprio
and Kate
Winslet
when the
Titanic
finally sunk. No longer
full of himself, Tim had looked uncertain as to whether
Alexa
still wanted him too. That one moment of doubt had made him more appealing to
her than all of his previous cockiness.

She wondered if he’d mellow out
tonight, becoming tender, and if David would be more assertive. It might be a
nice change, even though neither of them would ever be Hunt.

Alexa’s
step paused at the unwanted thought. Her palms were damp.
She ran them down her strapless black sheath, as snug as the gold dress she’d
worn the first time she’d been with them. Rarely had she been as wound up as
she was right now, her heart pounding,
her
mouth dry.

You’re going to have a great time,
just like always. They’re going to do whatever you want. They won’t leave
you…at least not until it’s over.

And then it wouldn’t matter.
Although she liked Hunt’s friends, she didn’t really care if she ever saw them
again. There was no connection other than a need to quell her pressing
loneliness. Never would be. She didn’t want that. Having a man touch her soul
wouldn’t turn out well. He’d leave her and become indifferent because that’s
what men did once they got what they wanted.

She’d been through that with her
father, finally being a good girl and great student at Oxford, which got her
ignored once more. No fucking way was a guy going to do that to her again.

During the next hours, she was going
to be bad—decadent, carnal, wicked bad.

Her step was finally sure as she
reached the doors, opening them.

The room, like the rest of the
house, was a study in Spartan hues. Black lacquered nightstands flanked either
side of the king-sized bed that rested on a slab of gray marble, its headboard
in a black-and-white diamond design. White branches stripped of leaves stood in
tall aluminum cylinders, providing an artistic view of what a funky forest
might look like. Artwork in bold geometric designs hung on the walls. Light
poured through the compositions’ triangles and circles, illuminating the space.
The peachy glow she’d seen from the street was deceptive, the light tamed by
the closed shutters.

In here, it allowed no shadows,
nowhere
to hide, especially for a woman who would soon be
naked and stretched out on the mattress.

David and Tim turned as one, looking
at her. As that first night on R Street, they both wore dark suits as though
they’d come here from a conference with VIP clients. Unlike that evening,
they’d already helped themselves to drinks from the wet bar.

It was on the other side of the
room, blocked from her view by the door. As she closed it,
Alexa
decided to make herself a drink. If ever there was a time she needed one, it
was—

Her thoughts paused.

She stared at Hunt. He stood at the
wet bar’s black marble counter as if he belonged here even more than his
friends.

With a drink in his hand and a smile
that turned her heart over, he approached and murmured, “Hi.”

She caught his leather and tobacco
scent, the male musk beneath it. Her legs got watery, demanding she sag into
him for support.
Alexa
resisted the urge.
Barely.
She waited for Tim and David to say something, tell
her what in the hell was going on.

They sipped their drinks, looking as
though Hunt had everything well under control.

“I believe this is yours,” he said,
handing her the champagne flute. “
Your
favorite,
correct?”

Stupidly, she regarded the dark
liquid topped with foam. Known as Black Velvet, it was a concoction of Guinness
and champagne
Alexa
had become partial to thanks to
her roommate at Oxford.

How had Hunt known that? Where had
he gotten the glass? It was hand-painted with blue and white flowers. At
Christmas, long before she’d met him,
Alexa
had
admired it in a store display. He couldn’t have been following her then as
she’d done with him a few days ago. She would have felt his presence…would have
ached for it then as she did now.

“Go on, taste it,” he coaxed, his
mouth close to her ear, his breath skimming her cheek. “I do know how to mix a
drink.”

His rich voice caressed, holding
just the right amount of mischief.

A sense of wonder warred with
Alexa’s
caution. He wanted her only because she kept
refusing him. To Hunt, this was a game he’d never had to play with another
woman. To
Alexa
, it was becoming a lot more and she
wasn’t about to fall into that abyss.

Stepping back, she put her drink on
a table to the side, regaining her composure and the upper hand in this
situation. “You’re not supposed to be here.” She faced him. “You weren’t
invited.”

“That’s not true.” He reduced the
scant space she’d put between them. Once more, they were close enough to kiss.

The thought made her unsteady,
shamelessly weak and warm. She fought it. “I didn’t invite you.”

“We did,” David said.

Tim rolled his eyes as if he didn’t
agree but was going along with the program. Why? Had Hunt threatened to beat
him up if he hadn’t?

Alexa
shivered with excitement and need at the thought, until she
remembered to battle her feelings. “That’s not your call to make.”

“Don’t worry.” Hunt leaned toward
her, the edge of his jacket brushing her arm, delivering more of his scent.

A riot of sensations barreled
through her.

“I’m not participating,” he
murmured. “I’m here merely to watch.”

Her palms got damp again. Images
flashed in her mind of him reclined in one of the chairs, watching as Tim
licked her nipples and David lapped her clit. He’d sit up slightly as Tim
mounted her from behind while she sucked David’s cock. Earlier, Hunt would have
insisted she face him during the act so she could see his reaction, wanting it
to excite her further.

That wasn’t possible. Already, her
cunt was heavy with desire, her opening growing wet at the thought of having no
one except him within her again.

He whispered, “I want to make
certain my friends give you the pleasure you deserve.”

He was here to take control that she
couldn’t give up. “What makes you think I’d want that?”

His lips touched her ear.
Alexa
bit back a moan.

“Pleasure?” he asked.

She swallowed. “You
watching.”

He sighed deeply,
then
moved back. “Tell me you can’t take it, tell me to leave and I will.
For good this time.
I won’t bother you again.”

His mouth was more beautiful than
Alexa
recalled, the memories of their kiss in the restaurant
and those on R Street making her tense with intolerable desire. She was afraid
to want him, terrified of anything beyond her lust. He kept bringing it out,
drawing her closer.

Tell him to leave. Be done with it.

These had to be the last moments he
was in her life. The subsequent ones would get easier, wouldn’t they? She’d
eventually lose her longing, the impulse to move into him, driving her fingers
through his hair, pressing her cheek to his, breathing in his fragrance.

Go on, tell him.

He waited, looking as vulnerable as
she felt.

Tim cleared his throat. David moved
from foot to foot.

Hunt’s expression softened even
more.

Aw crap.
Alexa
made a face and mumbled, “Stay if you want.
Watch.”
She shrugged. “I don’t care.”

“Thank you.”

Her shoulders slumped. What little
fight remained vanished at the gentleness of his words.

He leaned down, kissing her cheek,
earlobe and throat. She had to keep herself from whimpering. His tenderness was
more powerful than any promise he might have made.

When he stepped away,
Alexa
felt bereft. Nonetheless, she couldn’t give in. Her
heart was at stake and a boatload of pain
awaited
if
she allowed her emotions to guide her. Tonight would be the last time she’d
ever see Hunt. If need be, she’d leave the District and would return to Europe.
His desire wouldn’t be great enough for him to follow. He’d find another woman,
someone to replace her. He wouldn’t think of her again, while she’d have
trouble forgetting him.

He leaned against the bar where he
had an unrestricted view of the bed. Tim moved closer to it, followed by David.

Alexa
remained where she was, taking a sip of her drink, hating
herself for loving the flavor, pissed at Hunt for knowing how to mix it. After
tonight, she’d never have another Black Velvet, not wanting its flavor to
remind her of him.

Returning her flute to the table,
she said, “Gentlemen,” then headed for Tim.

He grinned in what appeared to be
surprise and a touch of gratitude.

After she was finished with him,
he’d be too wrung out to pant, while Hunt would be helpless to stop it. He
wanted to watch.
Fine.
She was going to give him a
show.

“Please unzip me,” she purred,
turning her back to Tim, lifting her hair with both hands.

Hunt ran his forefinger around the
lip of his glass, his full attention on her. He didn’t smile. Nor did he frown.
He seemed to be gauging her reaction, no doubt trying to see past her bravado
into her soul.

She wanted to look away but wouldn’t
allow herself that weakness. The rasp of her zipper sounded too loud. The top
of
Alexa’s
dress slipped away from her body,
puddling
at her waist.

Hunt continued to hold her gaze.

Heat stung her cheeks. She inhaled
sharply at Tim’s hands on her naked breasts, his thumbs flicking her nipples.
Excitement coiled within
Alexa
, her mind removing Tim
from the picture, replacing him with Hunt. She imagined him touching her, his
cock pressed against her ass, his breath clean and hot, tickling her neck. His
desire so great he’d never be distant and uncaring, nor would he leave.

“More,” she whispered, lowering her
arms.

“Gladly.”
Tim kissed her shoulder.

She recalled Hunt doing the same,
feeling his lips on her. She moaned.

The sound broke David’s hesitation.
He went to one knee before her, easing
Alexa’s
dress
down her hips and legs. The delicate garment pooled at her feet.

David settled his hands on the
insides of her thighs and pushed gently, directing
Alexa
to part them, to flaunt her full nudity. She did, all while studying Hunt. He
wore a neutral expression, but he’d stopped running his forefinger around the
rim of his glass. She sensed his muscles tightening, his compulsion growing to
order his friends from this room so he alone could fuck her raw.

He said nothing, nor did he move
toward her as David licked her cleft, tonguing her nub.

Alexa’s
mouth sagged open. Bursts of pleasure raced from her cunt
to her ass, belly and thighs. Tim angled his head to direct his kisses up her
neck. She caught his woodsy fragrance and David’s lighter scent that bore a
hint of lime. The colognes were as different as the men who wore them.

However, their hands had the same
purpose, taking command of her body. With decided skill, Tim fondled her
breasts, his touch rough, then gentle. David had already cupped her buttocks
and now ran his fingers down the separation between her cheeks. Searching for
her anus where he’d first taken her?

Yes.

He teased the tight ring with his
forefinger even as he
lapped
her clit.

Alexa
pushed to her toes with the newest sensations, wanting them
to continue…needing them to stop. Dammit. Satisfaction was hers to take and
enjoy, but Hunt’s presence wouldn’t allow it. Her mind and body kept replacing
these men with him—her memory of his scent, touch, heat—telling her she didn’t
want anyone else.