Claiming Magique: 1 Read online

  No arched brow this time. She took in Tim’s length in the same manner he’d done with hers, pausing on the good parts, particularly his fly and obvious erection straining against it.

  Screw that. Possessiveness, hard and uncivilized, coiled within Hunt, making him restless to have her first, to keep her from Tim and David. Could be they’d blown their chances given how they’d responded to her. So what the fuck had they’d said? Why was she lingering near Tim, watching him enjoy his drink?

  “Vraiment?” she said at last.

  Tim stopped sipping his cocktail. Uncertainty flashed on his face, keeping him from responding.

  Damn. Hunt wished he’d taken French in high school and college rather than Spanish. It would have also helped if he remembered enough Español to converse.

  She moved on, stopping in front of him.

  Before she discovered he was unilingual, he leaned toward her and murmured, “I have to warn you, I used to be fluent in Pig Latin, but I’ve grown a little rusty since middle school. So please, be gentle with me.”

  Surprise swept her lovely features followed by a throaty laugh. Honest, musical and all because of him.

  Rarely had Hunt felt as proud. His cock strained against his stretchy boxers, wanting out, needing to be within her tight heat…though not from behind as he’d imagined. For their first time, they had to be eye to eye, her full attention on him. He wanted to watch her response to his passion, witness the flare of excitement at him entering, stretching, plowing into her until he couldn’t go any deeper and their bodies touched. He hoped she’d whimper. He’d probably groan and a fucking lot more. Tim and David would most likely bitch.

  Pleased at the thought, Hunt managed to keep it to himself. He’d seen her reaction to his friends’ graceless flirting. This lady demanded to be honored and won. She needed to be in charge. He didn’t mind that a bit, wanting her to believe whatever worked as long as he was the one running the show.

  “Thanks.” He took the bourbon, his thumb touching hers.

  She didn’t pull back her hand. With a gentle tilt of her head, she studied him. Hunt allowed it, encouraging her to take the lead until he knew she’d accept whatever he wanted. Beneath her scrutiny, the music receded as did the tapping of Tim’s fingers against his glass and the floor squeaking as David shifted his weight. All Hunt heard was her gentle breathing. She was so close he caught her scent. A mixture of roses and jasmine laced with musk, as sensuous and mysterious as her.

  He chanced stroking her thumb.

  She parted her lips.

  His legs got rubbery. He had an overpowering urge to brush his mouth over hers, then ease his tongue inside, prolonging the pleasure, not allowing it to end even as he knew it wouldn’t be enough. He wanted so much more. He craved it all. What was her real name? She was obviously well educated, so where had she gone to school? Whom had she loved?

  His gut twisted with surprising force, another surge of jealousy he had no right to feel, but it didn’t stop more questions from bombarding him. Had she ever been married or engaged? Was she tight with anyone now?

  She inhaled deeply and spoke on a sigh, “Congratulations on your victory with the Emerson Bill.”

  David choked on his drink. Tim’s brows shot up.

  Hunt wasn’t any less surprised. The bill involved another of his firm’s VIP clients, hadn’t yet been voted on or publicized to the press, so how in the fuck did she know about it?

  How else, dummy? She’d been with the senator’s aides and maybe even Emerson himself who no doubt talked too much while he and his staff played with her in this house. Fucking pricks. The thought of them touching her rankled Hunt more than their sharing confidential information.

  She must have caught his mood or finally noticed David’s coughing. Stepping back, she placed the empty tray on a side table, then lowered her other strap over her shoulder, baring it slowly. A millimeter at a time.

  Hunt forgot to swallow his booze. His skin tingled.

  When she seemed certain of everyone’s full attention, she turned away from them. “I need help with my zipper.”

  Hunt handed his drink to David who took it instinctively, then grumbled, “Hey.”

  Not bothering to comment, Hunt reached Magique before Tim could. To his delight, she leaned into him, her back against his chest. The top of her head came to his chin. Her scent wafted up, making him dizzy.

  Tim edged closer, standing to the right. David joined them, standing to the left.

  Hunt ignored them both. All that mattered was Magique, getting her out of the dress, exploring her body, imprisoning her softness beneath him.

  Gathering her hair in his hand, he brought it to his face and inhaled deeply. God. It smelled as good as the rest of her. Fresh, delicate, womanly. He relished the scent, taking his time.

  Tim mumbled something beneath his breath.

  Magique paid him no heed. Lifting her arms, she held them above her head as a dancer would.

  Not expecting that, Hunt debated whether to cup her breasts and decided against it—for the time being. Once they were in bed, all bets were off. For now, he intended to make her wait for his carnal attention just as she expected him to be patient for hers. She’d said she needed help with her zipper, so where the hell was it? On a guess, he ran his fingers down the right seam of her dress, straying off course only once to stroke the gentle swell of her tummy.

  She released her weight into him, then wiggled her ass against his erection. As a test or a tease?

  Didn’t much matter. He’d survive this game and come out on top, literally. Fighting a smile, he next concentrated on the left seam, locating the fastener. Little by little, he eased it down, stopping at the curve of her hip, resting his hand on it to see what she’d do.

  With her right arm lowered, she turned her face to his as she had in his fantasy.

  A bit closer and their mouths would touch, and then they’d be necking like horny teens. Or she’d be doing that with Tim and David after telling him to leave because he’d assumed too much, making his next move before she decided to allow it.

  Steeling himself, Hunt continued to keep his distance, making her want their coming pleasure as much as he did.

  She smiled, all sassy and confident as though she’d won their unspoken challenge. “Thank you,” she purred, then looked away, her hair falling across her face, hiding it.

  Hunt made a noise of acknowledgment, struggling against an impulse to bring her to one of the chairs, haul her on his lap and direct her to take his cock inside her damp cunt. He sensed she would have enjoyed that, having seen her desire in the flush of her cheeks, the longing in her expression. So what now? It seemed she was waiting for him to be a good boy and move back. No way until he was ready.

  He regarded the sides of her dress. They’d fallen away from her body, the deepening V exposing a lot of skin.

  Heat rushed to his face and chest. He didn’t see the lacy edge of a bra or a thong. Was she nude beneath the garment?

  Eager to know, he stepped back.

  With a gentle twist of her shoulders and torso, the sheath slipped down, whispering over her hips and thighs, dropping to her feet.

  Naked, she stepped away from her clothing. Without a backward glance, she headed toward the door on the right. Her ass was as plush as Hunt’s fantasies had predicted, the cheeks bouncing with her graceful steps.

  He pulled in a ragged breath.

  She turned the crystal knob, the angle of her body revealing the curve of her breast.

  The door swung inward, showing the bedroom beyond.

  Chapter Two

  She felt them behind her, their powerful bodies restrained for the moment, revealing their doubt as to what they should make of her behavior or how they should proceed. Casually? With unrestrained passion? Somewhere in between?

  Before she’d spoken to David in his native Mandarin, the poor guy had looked torn between fleeing and remaining here, his sharp features both strong and sensual, his manner
oddly innocent. He would be a gentle lover.

  She didn’t want that. She craved passion and strength, demanding a man’s full attention to her, no one else. When they left her bed, she wanted their desire for her to be soul deep, to occupy their minds through the endless days ahead.

  Tim wasn’t that man. He’d been tense with lust as they conversed in French, telling her that he expected a good time, his demand husky with promise, not quite matching his conservative appearance and cool blond looks. He reminded her of a presumptuous little boy used to getting his way.

  Not in her bedroom.

  And then there was Hunt.

  She stopped well short of the bed, her body weakening as she recalled his dark-blue eyes, long lashes and his teasing comment about Pig Latin. A grin spread across her face, but only because he couldn’t see it.

  She didn’t want him knowing how much she enjoyed the memory of his irreverent humor. Something about him excited her too deeply, and it had nothing to do with his potent good looks.

  At thirty-two, he was a man in every sense of the word, his broad shoulders and height deliciously masculine. Beneath his well-tailored blue suit and crisp white shirt, she sensed the hard planes of his body…lean yet nicely muscular.

  She’d felt his hunger for her when she’d leaned into him. His cock had thickened, becoming even harder against the seam of her buttocks. He’d accepted her weight, seeming to require it.

  Such a pleasant moment, she’d had to restrain herself from making it even better, turning into him, running her fingers over his bristly cheeks, rich mouth and dark-brown hair, so thick and wavy a woman would be hard-pressed not to bury her face in those locks. His bronze skin radiated heat. His expression was unashamed, eager for whatever came next. He wanted it all and then some. Beneath his passion, she’d seen something else for a moment. Jealousy at her attention to his friends?

  The question was why and had everything to do with his ego rather than any feelings he could possibly have for her. They were strangers and would continue to be so. Tonight wasn’t about an emotional connection that could turn out bad. She’d learned the danger of that unending hurt in the past. The coming hours would focus on pleasure and he, even more than the others, would see to everything she required. A man taking her without restraint, yet conceding to her demands.

  Confident of her power, she continued across the room. Antique wall sconces lit the ample space, creating pools of cozy yellow light. The walls were as pale as the winter sun, the fireplace of white marble, the vintage Italian nightstands painted cream, which made the bed seem a bit more colorful. Canopied and of an ornate brass design, it had diaphanous beige fabric draped over the top, which cascaded down each gleaming post.

  It was also specially designed, wide enough to fit up to six adults.

  Turning, she leaned against the slatted footboard, hands behind her back, facing the men.

  Hunt stopped a few feet from her, his tie unknotted, his collar’s top button undone. He’d been leading the way with Tim next and David, sweet David, bringing up the rear. They gaped at her full breasts, the curve of her hips, the dark curls between her legs, trimmed short so the contours of her cunt were visible, the pubic hair no more than a smudge against her fair skin.

  She arched her back, giving them a show, unmindful of the room’s windows, DC beyond. No one outside could see her. The heavy drapes precluded it. These men were her only audience. They watched a lock of hair slide over her shoulder and slip past her breast, stopping just above her cunt. Their hungry expressions fed her carnal need. She kept her desire hidden, choosing instead to make a demand.

  “Tie me to the bedpost, then strip. Force me to watch you. To anticipate…to want. The one who finishes before the others takes me first.”

  Tim and David exchanged a surprised glance.

  Hunt continued to regard her, then smiled.

  Her heart turned over.

  He wore the look of a marauder facing a virginal maiden he’d just captured or a king who’d purchased a new slave. His expression said she belonged to him now. She wouldn’t be free of his lust until she’d sated his lewdest desires. There would be many. And she’d comply without complaint or a moment’s rest until he granted it.

  An unspoken protest rose within her, along with a whimper of delight she managed to suppress.

  He reached her easily, guiding her to the left post as he pulled off his tie. Its soft swish against his collar and his continuing silence were more exciting than anything he could have said. Taking her wrists, he wrapped the narrowest end of the pale blue silk around them. With a mastery that told her he’d engaged in bondage before, Hunt lifted her arms, securing them to the post. As he worked, the edges of his jacket brushed her naked nipples.

  They peaked even more.

  Exposed and vulnerable, she could scarcely breathe. A pulse beat hard at the base of her throat and deep within her pussy.

  Tim mumbled something indistinct, his tone sounding displeased as he pulled his crimson tie from his collar. David stared at her breasts as he yanked off his shoes, hopping in place to regain his balance.

  She expected Hunt to undress so he would win this race to have her.

  He didn’t. Unmindful of the others, he ran his hands down the insides of her arms. Tingles dashed up them. She clenched her teeth to keep from making any sound, allowing him to know how much she liked this.

  He seemed to realize it without asking, stroking her smooth pits as he regarded them. For a moment, she thought he’d press his face to that part of her and fill himself with her scent. Instead, he cupped her breasts, his long fingers curling around the ripe globes. A moan of delight bubbled up. She fought it. He flicked his thumbs over her nipples.

  Jolts of pleasure shot through her. She pushed to her toes, her spike heels leaving the floor.

  He smiled again, this one different from his first, though not the smug kind Tim might have given, nor one of innocence as David would have offered. Hunt’s was pure pleasure. The sort a man indulges in when he knows he’s pleased a woman and is certain she wants him as badly as he desires her.

  Without thinking, she leaned toward him, using the slack his tie allowed.

  He smelled delicious. A heady masculine scent reminiscent of leather and cherry tobacco. What one would find in a men’s club or the seat of power. What a woman craves on a lonely night, along with a man’s musky odor.

  She longed for him to be naked so she could press her nose to his hairy groin, his balls and cock, or even his throat, capturing more of his cologne. However, she wasn’t about to give him that satisfaction. Not yet. He was arousing her too effortlessly, his easy confidence tipping the power toward him when it belonged to her.

  Resisting him, she forced herself to regard the others. David was multitasking, tugging off his socks, while keeping an eye on what Hunt was doing with her. Tim was also watching, which made him forget to undress. As she focused on him, he seemed to remember his clothes. He tossed his jacket on one of the camel-colored wing chairs. The garment slid off its arm to the floor. He left it, no doubt used to housekeepers looking after his stuff.

  Again demanding her attention to him, Hunt dragged his large hands down her body over her hips to the insides of her thighs.

  Her breath caught. She shivered without meaning to.

  Her response encouraged Hunt to part her legs and run his thumb down her slit. Damn. She tightened her jaw, but it didn’t stop her whimper. Nor could she hide how damp her opening was, so fucking ready for him.

  He edged closer, trapping her with his heat, fragrance and strength. Rarely had she felt as defenseless.

  With his mouth pressed to her ear, he murmured, “You’re already wet. Good.”

  Bad. He was presuming too much.

  “Keep your legs parted,” he said.

  Movement wasn’t something she could do right now, though defiance was in her nature. She’d learned that being naughty brought her the reactions she coveted, in particular, a man’s u
ndivided attention.

  “Am I keeping them parted for Tim?” she hushed. Her lips brushed Hunt’s stubbled cheek with her words. “He’s nearly undressed.”

  Hunt’s thumb stalled before reaching her clit. He backed up a sufficient amount to strip, though not enough to allow his friends near her. Off came his suit jacket, which he tossed behind him.

  The garment landed on Tim, who sat on a chair, untying his black leather wingtips. “Hey, watch it.”

  Hunt toed off his shoes and peeled off his socks.

  His feet were big, his toes long.

  Her mouth watered. She wanted more. Not that she was about to let him know. “You’re all going too fast,” she complained. “Strip slowly. Make me want.”

  David had one shirttail out of his pants and looked hesitant to pull out the other. Tim screwed up his mouth but did take more care in removing his gold cufflinks.

  Defiant, Hunt tore off his shirt, flinging it aside. It landed near David and got Tim moving again, unmindful of her directive. Hunt was well ahead of his friends, pushing down his slacks and stretchy navy boxers. He stepped out of his garments and kicked them away.

  This time, she didn’t bother to watch where they came to rest. Hunt’s nudity absorbed her completely, making her insides flutter. His pecs were muscular and smooth, his nipples the color of cocoa, his abs so defined she could count each one. Beneath his firm belly, a line of dark hair trickled to his groin. There, it was thick and curly, certainly smelling of his musk and arousal.

  Her lungs burned, reminding her to breathe. It wasn’t easy given the feast that awaited her.

  Prominent veins ran the length of his cock. He was so erect, his shaft was elevated slightly, seeming to point in her direction, proving that she’d soon offer it shelter and comfort. The satiny head was ruddy with excitement. She imagined it slipping past her lips, its heat on her tongue, the salty taste of his pre-cum. A bead of the clear liquid glistened on the tiny slit.

  Nice.

  His testicles were as beautiful. Two plump sacs drawn tight to his body, no doubt eager for release.