Chapter 17
Chapter Seventeen
After a couple of thumping heartbeats, the door opened.
His appearance made my galloping heart hit explosive mode. Oscar had removed his jacket, loosened his bow tie, and undone a couple of buttons on his white shirt. The slight change in attire rocketed him from sexy to out of this world.
“Daisy . . . I’m pleased you decided to come.”
He stepped aside and held his hand forward, inviting me to enter. I did, and it was like stepping onto a page of a Luxury Travel Guide magazine. Over-the-top extravagance hit me from every angle. The room was fit for a king and when Oscar eased into my view, he added a whole new dimension to its magnificence.
“Lucky you came, or I’d have had to drink this champagne all by myself.” He indicated to a silver ice bucket with two champagne flutes at its side. “May I offer you a drink?”
My eyes fell on the bottle of Louis Roederer Cristal Champagne. His choice of champagne confirmed two things: Oscar had money to burn, and he’d known I would be sharing the drink with him .
My brain scrambled over whether or not to accept a drink. If I agreed, this would be my third drink tonight. That was more than I usually consumed in a week. Yet I wanted it. No . . . more like I needed a good dose of liquor to settle my nerves. I cleared my throat; hopeful my voice didn’t quiver. “I’d love one please.”
He shifted over to the table and began weaving the foil off the champagne bottle. “Take a look around.”
Grateful for his offer, I glided my fingers over the mushroom-colored Chesterfield sofa and tried to absorb every inch of the incredible suite. A Ming dynasty vase adorned the side table and just the idea of it being real had me giving it a wide berth.
I stepped up to the enormous full-length window that was centered between the giant king-size bed and the sofa. The champagne cork popped behind me as I admired the magnificent vista. The view from his penthouse spanned over the hotel’s pool and stunning manicured grounds. Beyond that was the bay, dotted with dozens of enormous yachts. The breathtaking scene twinkled with millions of lights like an intricate Christmas tree.
“Magnificent, isn’t it? Oscar was at my side holding a glass forward.
I reached for it. “Yes, it is.”
“Cheers.”
We chinked our glasses, and as I sipped the delicious bubbles, I looked into his smoky eyes. I was living a dream. He reached over and my breath caught as he ran his fingers through the loose curls at my shoulder. His gaze flitted from my mouth to my hair to my eyes, and their intensity made my heart thump to a crazy beat.
His fingers trailed across the back of my neck and my knees just about buckled at his tender touch.
“ Tu es si belle . ”
To hear him say I was beautiful made my heart flutter, but it was his sexy French accent that shot a delicious thrill through me. Reaching for my hand, he gently pried my champagne glass from my fingers, placed both our drinks on the coffee table in front of the sofa, and before I’d inhaled another breath, he eased in behind me.
Holy hotcakes. Is this really happening?
The heat of his body against mine confirmed it absolutely was. His delicious cologne, an intoxicating blend of sandalwood and citrus, had my insides purring.
He cruised his hand down my left arm and guided my palm, so I placed it against the glass window. I was his willing plaything, lured by an erotic spell. While my mind was still processing what was happening, my body was singing ‘ hell yeah’ in all sorts of delicious ways.
Oscar placed my second hand on the window so I could no longer see him. Instead, I was looking out over the spectacular marina lights. His fingers brushed against my neck, activating delightful shivers that danced through me.
Oscar pulled my hair aside and when his lips found my flesh, I gasped at his tenderness. The shivers became skyrockets, and a fire ignited within my loins. Sparks of desire zapped along every nerve like I was coming alive after years of slumber.
I rolled my head sideways, giving him more, and he trailed kisses from my earlobe to the nape of my neck. His chest was against my back and the warmth emanating from his body added to my own erotic inferno. He reached around, gently curling his hand over my breast.
My nipples rose to attention. Throbbing. Aching.
His hand continued its journey over my breast and under, and tiny mewling sounds tumbled from my throat. I rolled my head back, resting it on his shoulder. Closing my eyes, my mouth fell open, and I slipped into another world. A world where my overactive mind took a back seat to all the delicious tantalization of my flesh.
He repeated the move, curling his hand slowly, slowly over my breast and cupping beneath, and I couldn’t decide if he was feeling its weight or sizing it up for something wicked. My tingling nipples grew hard, throbbing.
I reached around, eager to feel his flesh, but he clutched my hand and placed it firmly back on the window. My body took over and I moved my ass in a way that said, take me now .
He found my dress zipper nestled at my cleavage and my insides pulsed out a heady beat with each inch he glided it downward. When he reached my navel, I froze. My nanna knickers . I’d completely forgotten about them.
Oh, God. Oh, God.
The pulse in my vagina vanished.
My buckling knees threatened to drop me to the plush carpet.
Maybe Oscar sensed my hesitation because in a flash, he whipped my zipper all the way down. My dress parted in the middle exposing my ugly underwear to the world.
my eyes shot open. People were strolling around the pool.
Fucking hell!
I shoved back from the glass.
His fingers whipped out of me.
“Wait. Wait.” Spinning to him, I expected to see shock on his face. But my outburst did little to change his calm demeanor. He simply smiled and lowered his eyes to my breasts.
I clutched my hands over my nipples. “Sorry, but ummm, people could see me.”
He nodded and stepped forward. “It is me who must apologize. I got carried away.”
“No, no, it’s not that . . . it’s just . . .”
“It’s okay, I understand.” He strode to a panel beside the door and seconds later, subtle music emanated from hidden speakers, and the lights dimmed to a delicate golden glow.
When he strolled back to me, my eyes fell on the undone button on his tuxedo pants and the enormous bulge beneath it, threatening to burst from his zipper. I had no doubt what mood Oscar was in.
A fucking horny one.
I, on the other hand, remained rooted to the floor, naked from the waist up. I could have pulled my bra down or tugged my dress closed. But no, I just stood there attempting to cover myself with my hands.
I am a fucking idiot.
He collected our champagne glasses, offered mine to me and I was torn between removing my hand from my nipples and accepting the glass, or staying covered.
He ran his tongue over his bottom lip and my body sizzled at the lust in his smoky eyes. “Would you like a drink?”
Feeling like the completely inexperienced fool I was, I cleared my throat and lowered my hands. “Yes please.” I gulped down a huge mouthful.
Oscar strolled to the window and pulled the drapes closed. “The glass is one way, so people cannot see in. But is this better?”
Of course it is! I’m such a fool. “Yes, thank you.”
He strode to me—a man on a mission. The intensity in his gaze made my heart skip a beat.
Again, Oscar took the glass from me and placed it on the table.
And without any fanfare, he shot his hand down the front of my giant panties.
As if they had a mind of their own my legs parted, giving him more access to my pussy. He didn’t miss a beat. A probing finger plunged inside me .
It was shocking and wicked and totally fucking incredible.
When he pushed a second finger inside me,
He repeated his earlier move where he played with my hair as he slipped in behind me. When his lips found my neck again, my mind and body swirled into passionate bliss. His hands returned their exploration, cruising down my torso and into my panties.
He was also a miracle worker. With one hand fondling my breast, he continued finger-fucking my throbbing core, trailing kisses up and down my neck. I was pinned in position, experiencing the most glorious, erotic moment of my life.
The sexual coil inside me slammed out a tribal beat. I gasped and bent my knees, giving him access to go deeper. He did, touching a place deep within me that nearly had me crumbling to the carpet.
Oscar reached around and unclipped my bra, setting my mounds free. He did it so quickly that two thoughts shot across my brain like forked lightning. One was that Oscar was as discreet as a magician; the other was that he must’ve done that a thousand times before.
His fingers plunged in and out as he nipped and kissed along the line of my neck, raining shivers across my flesh. He had magical hands and an even more magical tongue.
Oscar knew how to bring out my arousal. It was like we’d been doing this for years. I didn’t know how long he continued to pleasure me—seconds maybe, hours even—but before I knew it, I was as horny as I’d been before I’d shoved back from the window.
Using his foot, he nudged my legs apart and with his hand on my back, he gently bent me forward. I placed my hands on the rear of the Chesterfield sofa.
Oscar eased in behind me again, his bulging cock nudging my butt, begging to be released. Feeling his rock-hard manhood had another layer of exquisite need raging through me.
His hands reached around and found my boobs. A gasp left his throat, and in a throaty whisper, he said, “ Ils sont réels .”
My French was a little rusty, but if my translation was correct, he’d just commented that my breasts were real.
Why he’d thought they were fake was a mystery to me.
As I contemplated if he was happy with this discovery, Oscar continued his exploration. Squeezing, caressing, drifting in a dual choreography that I’d never experienced before. A deep moan tumbled from Oscar’s throat, and the unbridled rawness of it confirmed that this smoking-hot man did indeed like my breasts.
I just about melted with relief.
My knees weakened, my clit throbbed, and my mind tried to absorb every single delicious sensation. He pinched my nipples until I winced. He did it again and a shiver of delight shot down in between my legs.
He smelled divine, classy cologne mixed with expensive champagne and hot-blooded man. My pussy pulsed in agreement.
I wiggled my ass, letting him know I wanted more. I’d reached the point of unbearable want.
His right hand released my breast and when it traveled down my belly, I wished like hell I’d removed my fugly knickers.
His fingers slid into my panties again and into my throbbing abyss. The swiftness of his approach had me gasping for breath, and I gripped the plush Chesterfield sofa like it was a safety harness.
At first, he’d used just one finger. But soon, he added another. His fingers smoothly twisted as he pulled them out, dragging them over my clit. This new sensation was like nothing I’d ever experienced, and as if aware he was showing me something new, Oscar leaned into my ear and whispered, “Relax, mon beau . You are nearly there.”
My beautiful.
His sexy voice . . . his perfect words . . . the heat of his body . . . it all had an orgasm building inside me. I was ready to be taken to depths I’d never explored before. I closed my eyes and a million pretty lights danced behind my eyelids.
He alternated his repertoire, one minute driving his fingers inside me fast and hard, the next minute he was teasing my clit. The pressure was perfectly exquisite, and my developing orgasm was as swift as it was mind-blowing. He clutched me to his body, finger-fucking me stupid. My knees weakened. My breasts lowered until they squished into the sofa. He rammed his fingers in and out.
My body tipped over the glorious edge, and I screamed as an orgasm tore through me.
It was fast. It was explosive. It totally blew my fucking mind.
My juices trickled down my legs and onto my new shoes that I couldn’t believe I was still wearing. Scrambling to accept what had just happened, I gasped for breath, trying to ignore my trembling legs.
It was all so quick.
He released me from his clutches, and I pushed up from the sofa, ready to turn to him. But he clasped my hand again and placed it right back on the Chesterfield. Using his foot, he eased my feet farther apart and without warning, tore my panties from my body. His wild passion was no match for the flimsy fabric, and I gasped at the rawness of it.
Oscar pulled the back of my dress aside, exposing my non-existent ass, and although I was still wearing my bra and dress, I suddenly felt very naked. But when he eased up behind me, the warmth of his bare flesh enveloped me in a cloak of loveliness.
Somehow, in my erotic haze, I hadn’t noticed him undress.
He leaned into my ear, and his hot breath made me shiver. “Stay there.”
I did. Crinkling of foil and a ripping sound confirmed he’d grabbed a condom.
Thank God he’d thought of that!
I wanted to slap myself at my stupidity. But my anguish evaporated the instant he tugged my dress aside and glided his warm hands over my bottom. With his other hand on my back, he guided me to bend over the sofa again.
I was rooted in position, my hands on the obscenely expensive Chesterfield, my feet planted hip-distance apart on the plush carpet, him wedged up behind me, and my body unable to move.
This was it. For the first time in years, I was about to have sex.
Was I ready?
A rod of heat glided up and down my pussy and my flesh sizzled. I absolutely was.
But would I know what to do?
Without warning, an image of William and I in this position shot into my brain.
But William had been hesitant, almost scared to touch me.
Oscar oozed confidence. He was a man at the top of his game.
William had blustered his way through every sexual encounter.
Oscar knew what he was doing. When the head of his cock found a rhythm, gliding across my pulsing clit, the ludicrous comparisons to William evaporated .
Oscar’s moves were totally fucking hot. Out of this world. His erection was full-on hard.
Knowing I’d created that was the hottest thing ever.
My insides heated up, begging for it. Wanting it like I’d never wanted anything before. I was wet. Oh, so wet.
My palms pushed into the sofa as I angled my body, presenting my ass to him in a way that said, ‘take me now.’
His cock nudged my opening and as he squeezed my breast with one hand, he drove his shaft inside me.
Oscar’s solid length wedged into my core, linking us together.
It was as shocking as it was incredible. He did it again. And again. Every thrust brought out the best and the worst of me. I bent over lower and reached up on my toes, changing the angle so he could go deeper . . . deeper than any man had gone before.
I gasped at the pain. I gasped at the pleasure.
Oscar picked up his tempo, pulling out and driving in with rapid succession.
His grunts matched his thrusts. Gasps burst from my throat.
He planted his hands on my hips, gripping firm, and I readied for the grand finale. Oscar groaned with each punishing thrust. His fingers dug into my flesh, and I cried out as my second orgasm surprised me.
Pulses of pleasure rocketed through me like a bullet train, and I shuddered at the mind-blowing climax.
Oscar let out a primal groan and rammed me fast and hard. Once. Twice. Five times.
Finally, he slowed, easing his grip on my hips. As he inhaled ragged breaths, his cock shrunk inside me, and I opened my eyes to marvel at my exquisite surroundings. It was a million miles away from the last place I’d had sex: the two-bedroom, run-down flat William and I had rented .
How many women had been in this exact position with Oscar?
Fucking hell, Daisy!
What was wrong with me?
It was none of my business. Besides, what difference would it make?
Oscar pulled out of me. I drew up to a standing position and with a clutch of horror, I discovered my bra high on my chest. Tugging it into position, I shoved myself back into place. But with my dress still on, it was impossible to do up the clips at the back.
Giving up, I drew the sides of my dress together, hooked the clasp at the bottom, and zipped it closed.
Decent again, I turned around to face Oscar. A gasp spilled from my throat.
He was covered in tattoos except for his hands and face. But these were not two-bit tattoos applied with reckless abandon. These were exquisite and intentional. Designed and planned by an artist whose work could grace the walls of any gallery.
The man in the three-piece suit had completely transformed into something out of this world.
Holy hotness on a stick.
I must’ve looked like a dumbstruck fool. It took all my might to clear my throat and shut my gaping mouth. His jaw was set, and the weird look on his face had me wondering if I’d done something wrong.
All of sudden, I felt very awkward. “So, ummm . . .”
“Would you like me to call you a taxi?”
Taxi?
Oh, Lord. He wanted me to leave.
A dagger of humiliation drove into my heart.
The game was over. He’d scored. He’d gotten what he wanted.
It was time for his plaything to vacate his penthouse .
I cleared my throat. “No, thank you.” A blaze of heat raced up my neck as I headed for my handbag that I couldn’t recall placing on the table.
His silence was as loud as a scream as I opened his door and strode from his suite.
My heart stammered as I jabbed the elevator call button over and over, praying that he didn’t step into the hallway.
I waited out the silence, fighting the wave of nausea rolling through me.
I’d just been used.
The doors opened, and when I stepped in, the wetness between my legs was disgusting. Prodding the button for the ground floor, the doors finally closed. I stared at my reflection. My hair was a little messed up but other than that, I looked exactly as I had on the way up.
But I wasn’t. I’d just had sex with a complete stranger in his penthouse suite.
I’d also just been discarded like a used condom.
A sob caught in my throat.
I was just like my mother.