Exposed by Fate Read online

  “Jesus Christ. I could come just from the way you’re looking at it.” She wrapped her hand around his base and lapped at the tip, drawing an agonized growl from his mouth. “Eliza, it’s not going to take much to get me off, babe, but I want to feel the back of your throat first.”

  “Yes, Oliver,” she whispered as some chemical released in her brain, heightening her senses and painting everything around her in a filtered haze. This is where she belonged. If only for a short while, she belonged to this man. She alone saw to his needs. “Anything you want.”

  She licked the underside of his straining erection. One long lick. Then she lowered her mouth onto him, right to the point she felt her eyes tearing up. His fingers tangled in her hair and his thighs started to shake on either side of her ears. “Show me how good it tastes. Let me give you another inch.”

  With a deep breath through her nose, she relaxed her throat and felt him glide deeper. Instinctively, she swallowed, but it only caused his hips to jerk, his fingers to flex in her hair.

  “God. Do that again. Please, babe? Fuck me with your throat.”

  His gravelly plea made her feel confident. Free and bound at the same time. She reveled in the power she held at that moment, his release dependent on her mouth’s movements. Continuing to breathe deeply through her nose, she contracted her throat once again and closed her eyes to savor his uneven groan. When she reached the point when she could no longer keep him so deep, she sucked him straight to the tip, gasping for air as she stroked his slippery length with her hand.

  “I’m so close, Eliza. You going to let me become your new favorite flavor?”

  She swirled her tongue around his head of his arousal, scraped her teeth down the side. His words from the night of the gala came back to her in a rush. The next time you call me Mr. Preston, you’ll be looking up at me from your knees before you can blink. Excitement twined through her blood as she looked up at him from underneath her eyelashes. “Yes, Mr. Preston.”

  Oliver’s jaw went rigid, but she felt his cock surge in her hand. He loves it. Keeping his grip on her hair, he rose to his feet until he towered over her. “I was going to go easy, but maybe that’s not how you want it.” One hand left her hair to cup her jaw. “If you don’t want your mouth ridden the same way I ride your pussy, say the word, now.”

  Her answer was to suck him deep, taking him all the way to the back of her throat once more. It was easier this time because she knew what to expect. Knew how to resist her throat’s rejection, how to relax her gag reflex. With a sharp curse, Oliver wrapped her hair in his first and gave a series of shallow thrusts, pulling out and working himself back in, stopping when he got halfway. More. She wanted more. The texture of him, the feel of him swelling larger defied her fantasies. Above her, his harsh breathing, the way he bit off her name over and over, sent thrills of elation straight to her toes. As if an invisible wire had snapped, they both became frantic. She clawed at his hips, his taut ass and awaited every thrust of his length like it were her dying breath. Oliver’s movements grew jerky, his pumping hips pushing him deeper until he couldn’t go any further.

  Voices in the kitchen. Philip and Caroline. Only yards away from them. Eliza’s eyes flew wide.

  “Don’t you dare stop, Eliza. You will not stop until you suck me down.”

  Relief. She actually felt relief that the decision had been taken out of her hands. Wanting to touch all of him at once, she reached between his legs and cupped his balls, massaging them in her palm. He growled once and gave a tight, final thrust, sending warmth down the back of her throat as he grasped her head to his lap.

  “Fucking hell, take it. Take it in your sweet fucking mouth. Not yours, not his, mine. My mouth to fuck. It’s mine. Mine now. I made it that way.”

  When he finally released her head, Eliza gulped in deep breaths of air, feeling like she’d just been spat from the eye of a tornado. She looked up at Oliver from her knees to find him looking just as shell-shocked as she felt. A huge, aching part of her needed him to scoop her up into his arms and tell her how unbelievable and brave she was. The way he’d done every single time they’d been together. But the moment came and went, speeding past in a flash of light, dragging her heart away with it. With the passing of that moment, everything else rushed in, anger at the forefront. Not his, Oliver had said as he climaxed. This whole encounter had been driven by jealousy. His damaged pride. He’d used her. And it hurt like hell.

  “Babe, come here.”

  “No.” Knowing she needed to get away from him or she’d scream, Eliza stood on shaky legs and repaired her skirt. He hissed a curse and saw to his own state of undress, before striding toward her. No. Every part of her rebelled at the idea of being touched by him. She’d crumble. Just before he reached her, she lunged for the door. “We’re done, Oliver.”

  “Eliza.” He pressed against her before she could turn the knob, aligning his chest with her back. Hold firm. Don’t break. When he kissed her shoulder, she slammed her eyes shut and held her breath. “We’re not over. Not yet.” She frowned over the panic in his voice. “You still need me to make the phone call to Porter, right? I won’t do it if you back out.” He placed an open-mouth kiss beneath her ear, lathed the spot with his tongue. “Let me make you feel good one more time. Then I’ll do it.”

  Warmth pooled between her legs. Foolish, unwanted sensations she wanted to banish but couldn’t. Anger at herself, at Oliver, rolled over her in waves. She could get in touch with Porter on her own, and they both knew it. If she even wanted to, and if she was honest with herself, she hadn’t thought of the man in a sexual contest since they’d met at Serve. But a part of her wanted Oliver to make the phone call. Wanted him to feel used, the same way she just had. Maybe Oliver calling another man to set them up would give her the push she needed to walk away and not look back.

  Dammit. She also wanted another night with him. Couldn’t resist the temptation his touch represented. Even though it might kill her.

  “I never said I was backing out. You still have a phone call to make,” she said, feeling numb. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  She felt his arms fall away from her like they’d been weighed down with stones as she pushed into the kitchen. Philip and Caroline turned to look at her in surprise as she rattled off compliments about the spacious backyard.

  Chapter Twenty

  Oliver didn’t bother hanging up his tie, simply tossing it into his closet and kicking the door shut. He paced the loft, unbuttoning the top two buttons of his shirt as he went. Eliza would be here in a few minutes, and he felt like a prisoner who’d been granted a stay of execution. A man who knew the end was inevitable, but wouldn’t give up his final minutes for anything in the world.

  Thank Christ he had more time with her. If he left her with the memory of what they’d done last night as their final encounter, he wouldn’t be able to bear it. The only thing that had gotten him out of bed this morning had been the knowledge that he’d have a chance to blur out his treatment of her with something better. She’d been so beautiful and willing on her knees, looking up at him like he was worth a fucking second of her time…and he’d been so goddamn angry, he hadn’t been able to see past it. Hadn’t taken care of her. As if some dangerous fuse had been lit inside of him at the mention of Porter, he’d been almost animalistic in his need to possess her. Mark her. He hadn’t gone slow or easy. Hadn’t encouraged or comforted her. Mostly, he’d been too stunned by his own behavior to react afterward, and then it had passed him by. Appalled with himself, he’d left with nothing more than a cursory good-bye to his sister and father before leaving in his car. He hadn’t been able to look at Eliza another second, remembering how harsh he’d been.

  It wasn’t unusual for a dominant man to be rough, especially when the woman claimed to want it as Eliza had. But it had been up to him to give her what she was ready for. To anticipate her needs, not blindly follow words said in the heat of the moment. He hadn’t talked to her enough, hadn’t made sure
. The fact that she’d still agreed to see him tonight made him wonder about her actual reasons for agreeing. Despite her parting shot last night, he didn’t want to think it had anything to do with Porter or the phone call, but he worried that it might. Fuck, the idea hurt. Everything about this hurt.

  When she walked out of there tonight, the final pieces of his heart he’d been frantically gluing together for the last week would fall apart. Without another encounter with her on the horizon, he would lack the energy to repair himself next time. He knew that instinctively. Already, he felt partially invisible, like his existence depended solely on her presence. As the minutes ticked down to seven o’clock, it got harder to breathe. He had to restrain himself from waiting for her in the hallway.

  How the mighty have fallen. As far back as he could remember, women had been interchangeable to him. Now he’d found one who shined so bright, he couldn’t see another woman if he wanted to, and she wanted nothing to do with him. The very notion of being with someone besides Eliza after what he’d experienced with her made his stomach rebel. Made him want to take a scalding shower to rid himself of anyone’s touch that came before her. They’d damned him. He’d damned himself.

  It took him a moment to realize the buzzer had gone off in his apartment and didn’t just exist inside his head, joining all the other noise. He pressed the button to allow her inside and unlocked his apartment door. She walked in a minute later and the glue holding his heart intact gave out, sending shards ripping into his internal organs. It hit him hard that he’d never experience this again, the pleasure of her coming home to him. And he wanted it so bad. Every evening for the rest of his life. In the red strapless dress he’d requested she wear, and black high heels, she looked so enticing, his body readied itself for her pleasure immediately. He wanted to take her against the door, but after the way they’d ended things last time he’d seen her, he knew that would be a huge mistake. It would be too easy when he planned on savoring every second he had left.

  “Hey,” she said, tucking her hair behind her ear. “You have any of that ouzo left in the fridge?”

  I love you. I love you so much. “Yeah, I think so. Enough for a couple of shots.”

  “Good.” She set her purse down on his dining room table. “It looks like we both need one.”

  He tried to smile at her attempt at humor, but the command didn’t reach his mouth. Finding it hard to look at her when she looked so excruciatingly pretty, he grabbed the ouzo out of the fridge while she hunted for shot glasses. She set them down at the same time he plunked the nearly empty bottle of ouzo onto the island. They locked eyes.

  “I guess it’s only fitting to end this how it started,” he said.

  After watching him for a beat, Eliza nodded and poured. The sound of swirling liquid sounded like a gunshot in the thick silence. “I want to tell you something. It’s important.”

  His heart tried to lodge itself in his throat. God, please let her tell me she wants me. Not just tonight. Not just in bed. In every way. He’d spend the rest of his life worshiping her. “After you left last night, your father insisted we order take-out and stay for dinner.”

  Disappointment gripped him. Not what he’d been expecting. Or praying for. “Yeah?”

  She hummed in her throat. “He was so quiet through dinner, I think even Caroline was worried.” Her finger circled the rim of her shot glass. “When she asked him what was wrong, he said, ‘Me. I’ve been wrong. I underestimated my own son’.” When she looked back up at him, she had tears in her eyes. “I just wanted you to know he said that. You deserve to hear it. No matter what happens here.”

  Oliver felt like he’d been coldcocked. His chest ached so bad his hand rose of its own accord to check for damage. He’d spent so long convincing himself he didn’t care about anyone’s approval, he’d started to believe his own bullshit. With Eliza standing in front of him, so soon from leaving, he felt whole and incomplete at the same time. “What is going to happen here, bunny?”

  Eliza handed him his shot of ouzo, but kept her gaze on the floor as she lifted her own. “I don’t know.” She tossed back the shot. “But we have to get it over with.”

  Anger mingled with pain in his bloodstream, but he ignored both. She had every right to be mad at him. He took the shot glass from her hand and set it on the island, alongside his own. The movement brought their bodies closer, and he didn’t even try to resist her gravity. He cupped the back of her head and kissed the corner of her mouth, lingering there as he spoke. “I’m sorry for how I treated your mouth, babe. You made me feel so fucking good. I got carried away.” He traced his lips over hers, ending at the opposite corner, which he kissed softly. “So sorry, Eliza.”

  Her breasts swelled over the top of her dress with each accelerated breath. “I loved it. Mostly.”

  Hearing her say she loved sucking him off made his cock throb in his pants. He ran a finger over the supple cleavage on display above her neckline. Thought of what it would be like to come on that very spot the next time she got on her knees for him, before he remembered there wouldn’t be a next time. “Mostly?” he managed.

  She smoothed her palms up his chest, making him want to growl. “I loved it until you made it about someone else, when it was just the two of us there.”

  “Isn’t that where this all leads? Someone else?”

  “Yes,” she whispered. “It has to.”

  Oliver took several deep breaths to calm the beast inside of him. He couldn’t taint their final time together with his jealousy, but damn if he didn’t want to fuck Porter right out of her head. He could do it, too, for a couple blessed hours. She wouldn’t think of a damn thing but him tonight. He reached behind Eliza and picked up the bottle of ouzo, tipping it to her lips. Those pink lips opened for the glass bottle, curling around the end in a way that threatened his sanity. After she’d drank her fill, they both stared at the dwindling contents of the bottle, only a few drops left in the bottom. An hourglass that had run out far too soon.

  Eliza’s hand slid around his and tugged the bottle toward her, so it hovered just above her chest, before turning it over and letting the liquor dribble onto the tops of her breasts. “Don’t let it go to waste, Oliver.”

  Her challenge hung in the air as he lifted her with an arm around her waist and licked every drop from her warm flesh, delving his tongue below the neckline to graze her pointed nipples. Need roared in his head like a gale wind and she was the eye of the storm. In the midst of his lust, he felt pride in Eliza. So confident now. Secure in her appeal. If he’d had anything to do with her transformation, his oncoming misery wouldn’t be for nothing.

  Her jerked Eliza higher and she wrapped her legs around his waist. He continued to devour her breasts until she arched her back and let them spill out of the dress, removing any barrier between her and his mouth. “You gorgeous girl. You delicious girl,” he muttered against her flesh, tongue circling her nipples before drawing them hard into his mouth. “Tell me again how you loved sucking my dick.”

  “I loved it,” she moaned. “I wanted you to love it.”

  Oliver groaned, unable to keep his hands off her ass a second longer. He peeled the tight, red material over her ass and kneaded the flesh he revealed. No panties. Good girl. “What about here, Eliza? Are you sore from your punishment?”

  “Yes,” she gasped.

  He wedged his hips between her thighs and bounced her up and down twice, letting her feel the steel of his cock. “Too sore to fuck, babe?”

  “No.” She bucked against him, making her breasts bounce right in front of his mouth. “No.”

  “Thank God,” he rasped. Dammit, how could he be this close to her heat and not pound her against the closest stable object? If he didn’t get her into his bed, he’d regret it, though. He wanted to wake up with her smell around him tomorrow morning and pretend just a little longer that she’d stayed. That the last couple weeks weren’t an elaborate dream. With a concerted effort, he walked them toward his bed while
Eliza alternated kissing his neck and trying to rip his shirt off. Her pussy cradled him so perfectly, he could feel her dampness through his pants, seeping onto his cock, making him fucking crazed to get inside her.

  Savor this. Savor her.

  Oliver laid her down in the middle of his bed, his pulse racing at the sight of her there. Finally. They worked together to drag the dress off her body, before he shucked his own clothes in a hurry. Eliza’s lips parted on a whimper when he dropped his briefs, her thighs parting to reveal the spot he’d been fantasizing about since the moment she left him Saturday night. Four days. He hadn’t been inside her or tasted her in four days and he felt like he’d been imprisoned, a man without an escape. His desperation must have been clear on his face because her eyes were wide as silver dollars, nipples still damp from his mouth hardening into tight peaks.

  He knew what she expected of him. A lesson. Something that would teach her what to expect in this new life she wanted to live. Without him. Sweat beaded his forehead. He opened his bedside table and stared down at the range of toys. Leather cuffs, blindfolds, riding crops. As he rolled a condom down his hard length, he stared down at the objects within the drawer until they blurred into a void. He slammed the drawer shut. Was there anything in this world that could make an experience with Eliza better? No. Not right now, at least, when he would resent anything that came between them. Anything that represented an intrusion.

  “Oliver?”

  He looked down at her and groaned. Innocent curiosity was written in her expression, this girl who’d consumed his mind. His heart. That would be her lesson. When she walked away from him, she would know what his love felt like, even if he never said it out loud.

  Starting at the base of her neck, he trailed his fingertips down between her breasts, over her belly, to stroke between her thighs. Her legs fell open like flower petals, and her hips rose to meet his hand. So perfectly. “If we had been alone last night, I would have soothed you here with my mouth after I made it sting. I hate knowing it went a full day without an apology from my tongue. I plan to make up for that now.” He circled her clit with his middle finger, watching as she tossed her head back and gasped. “I won’t take you with my cock until you’ve accepted my apology by coming on my lips. On my tongue. As many times as it takes.” Starving for her taste now, he climbed onto the bed and pushed her knees wide. “But I will be taking you with my cock, Eliza. You’ll be apologizing to me for making me so hard. For making me use my hand to come more in the last two weeks than I have in thirty-one years. And for all the times I won’t have the privilege of fucking you in the future.”