Release Me: A Novel Part 39

"This may not be the best time, but I have a confession."

I tilt my head and wait.

"Jamie's going to be getting a call from her agent soon."

"And you know this how?"

"Because it's for a series of national commercials. For a company I have an interest in." He's speaking gingerly, eyeing me as if he's afraid I'll explode.

"You did that for her?"

"For the company, actually. The ad agency presented us with three possible actresses and Jamie was the best of the bunch."

My smile stretches wide across my face.

Damien looks at me, baffled. "Why is that okay, but helping you get the job at Innovative wasn't?"

I grimace, because it's a legitimate point. "Because it just is," I say, then laugh.

He joins me, then brushes a soft kiss over my lips. "Nikki?"

"Yes?"

"I-" He stops, but not before I hear the tenderness in his voice. I close my eyes, imagining that he's told me he loves me. The word sounds right, and not terrifying at all.

"Don't ever leave me again," he says.

"No," I whisper. "How could I? I'm yours."

He rolls over until he's on top of me, then trails light kisses down my neck. "You said I have to be in control."

"Not really an astounding revelation, is it?"

He chuckles. "I'm giving it to you."

"Giving what?"

"Control, Nikki. Tell me what you want. Tell me exactly what you want."

"You mean other than you?"

"Where do you want me to touch you? How slow? Shall I graze my teeth over your nipple? Shall I bite your ear? Shall I dip my tongue into your sweet c.u.n.t? Tell me, Nikki. Tell me what you want."

"Yes," I say, meaning all of that. "But start by kissing me."

He does, pressing his mouth softly to mine, then with increasing firmness. His tongue finds mine, stroking and teasing and I'm getting more and more turned on, even though he's doing nothing else. No touches, no caresses.

d.a.m.n the man, he meant what he said.

Gently, I break the kiss. "Stroke my b.r.e.a.s.t.s," I say. "Then pinch my nipples." I don't think I've ever drawn out a road map to making love, but with Damien I don't feel shy. "Tighter," I demand, then arch up as he twists almost to the point of pain. "Kiss me," I say. "All the way down until you get to my c.l.i.t. I want your tongue there, and I want your fingers inside me."

He grins up at me. "Yes, ma'am," he says, then begins to slowly, torturously, work his way down my body. I'm trembling now with desire for him. The slightest touch of my body against the sheet brings me even closer to an o.r.g.a.s.m. It's as if my entire body is an erogenous zone. And I want him there. I want him everywhere.

I gasp with the realization of what it is that I truly want tonight. And even though his tongue on my c.l.i.t feels so, so good, I ease his head up, then pull him up to kiss my lips. I roll sideways so that we're spooning together, and then I take his hand and guide it to my a.s.s. "Take me here," I whisper.

I feel his body tighten, the raw heat of him increase. "Are you sure?"

"I want to belong to you," I say. "I want to belong completely."

"Oh, baby." He eases me over so that I'm on my hands and knees on the bed. He strokes my c.u.n.t, getting his fingers slick with me, then takes a finger and eases it inside my a.n.u.s. I gasp.

"Tell me if you want me to stop."

"No. No, it feels good."

And it does. His touch sends shocks of pleasure ricocheting through me.

"Have you ever?"

"No," I say. "Only you."

I hear his low growl of pleasure. "Do you have any lube?"

"In the drawer," I say, then feel his weight shift on the bed as he reaches for the small table. He opens a drawer and pulls out the bottle. He puts some on his fingers, then strokes me. I moan from the pleasure of it. "We'll take it slow," he says.

His mouth caresses my back. His fingers play with my c.l.i.t. His c.o.c.k teases my a.s.s, and then I feel one finger slip inside me. I tense at first, then relax, overwhelmed by this new sensation.

"Okay?"

"Yes, please don't stop." I was going crazy from the pleasure. From the sensation of being so completely open to him. Of giving him something I'd never given anyone else. "More," I whisper. "I'm ready, but slowly."

Then the bulbous head of his c.o.c.k is behind me. I feel how hard and stiff it is, and my hips rise without thinking. "Sweetheart," he murmurs. "Oh, baby." Gently, he eases inside me. I gasp, then quickly beg him not to stop.

"Easy," he says. "Slow and easy. G.o.d, Nikki, you feel so good." He's inside me now, moving in a gentle rhythm. The sensation of being completely filled with him is overwhelming, and I think I could come just from the feel of him inside me like this.

"Touch my c.l.i.t," I say because he's taken his hand away. He complies, stroking in easy circles that match the rhythm of his thrusts, and Damien and I are more connected than we've ever been. He moves slowly, careful not to hurt me. His arm is around my hip, his hand stroking my c.l.i.t, and my climax is building with his.

"I'm close, Nikki," he whispers. "Baby, I'm going to come."

His release is fast and hard, and as he comes inside me his hand presses against my c.l.i.t, the extra pressure taking me over the brink as well. We collapse together, and he kisses my shoulder, my back, holding me close until our breathing slows. "You're mine," he says.

"I know," I reply, and I mean it completely.

I don't know what kind of favors Damien had to call in, but he gets me an appointment that evening at one of the best salons in Beverly Hills, and so I end up at dinner that night sporting a darling new haircut. Shoulder-length curls that bounce when I walk now that they're not weighed down by the length of all that hair.

I'm showered and shaved and sweet-smelling again. The dinner was to die for, and the chocolate torte is almost as good as an o.r.g.a.s.m.

Best of all, I have Damien beside me.

Life is good again.

I take a sip of my white chocolate martini and then kiss the tip of his nose. "Ladies' room," I say. "I won't be long." I start to slide out, but he holds me back, then kisses me so hard and deep I almost melt into the booth.

"Hurry. I want to go home. I have plans for you."

"Get the check," I say.

"Are you finished with dessert?"

I let my gaze glide slowly over him. "Finished? I haven't even started."

I'm rewarded by the heat in his eyes, and I flash a coy smile before turning away and heading toward the back of the restaurant, letting my hips swing just a little as I move. My grin dies, however, when I hit the narrow hallway and see Carl coming.

"Well, if it isn't Nikki Fairchild. h.e.l.lo, princess. You still f.u.c.king Damien Stark? Guess what? So am I."

I'd intended to brush right past him, but that stops me. "What are you talking about?"

"Skeletons," he says. "The kind that live in closets."

"I don't know what you mean." But I feel cold anyway.

"I'm just thinking about how high and mighty our Mr. Stark is. You land pretty hard when you fall from the stratosphere."

"Dammit, Carl, what are you telling me?"

"You? Not a G.o.dd.a.m.n thing. But tell loverboy I'll be in touch."

He walks away from me. I decide to skip the ladies' room and return to Damien. I give him a rundown of the conversation and watch his face grow hard.

"Do you know what he's going on about?" I ask, thinking about the abuse that he still hasn't told me about.

"No," he says. His voice sounds calm, natural. But there's a shadow in his eyes. That same coldness settles around me, and I'm afraid that he's going to shut down and push me out. But then he draws in a breath and pulls me close. "Probably some s.h.i.t to do with my father," he says. "Don't worry about it. I don't want either my father or Carl Rosenfeld to ruin our evening."

He pulls me close and kisses me hard, and I nod agreement. Right now, I don't want either of those men between us, either.

Back at the Malibu house, we make love slowly and sweetly, and I lose myself in Damien's touch, letting him erase all my fears and worries. In the shower, he soaps me down, gently stroking the cloth over all of me, then rinsing us both off until we feel clean and new. He wraps me in a towel and leads me back to the bed, then slides under the sheets with me.

He's on his side, looking at me, that enigmatic smile curving on his lips. I curl my fingers in his hair, holding him there, making sure there's nothing for him to see but me. "You're mine, too, you know," I whisper, and only when he says yes do I loosen my hold and draw his mouth down to mine.

I feel the change in his breathing as he falls asleep pressed close against me. I think about the skeletons and ghosts that still hide in the dark corners of Damien's past. I remember Eric Padgett's words. Secrets, he'd said, and I shiver, afraid that Damien's going to have to face that darkness. But I'll be there when he does, and we'll face the darkness together.

I can. Because when Damien's beside me, I'm no longer afraid of the dark.

To Shauna and Gina ... who know why.

Special thanks to Stefani, Kelly Jo,

and Kathleen for the early reads,

comments, and enthusiasm.

And thanks to the folks at Learjet, the FAA, and Stars in Your Eyes for so thoughtfully answering my questions; any errors are my own.

PHOTO: KATHY WHITTAKER PHOTOGRAPHY.

J. KENNER loves wine, dark chocolate, and books. She lives in Texas with her husband and daughters. Visit her online at www.jkenner.com to learn more about her and her other pen names, to get a peek at what she's working on, and to connect through social media.

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