“Oh my God, I love it,” she breathed out, immediately going for the jacket. It was hip-length, with a silver diagonal zipper and buttons. She could tell it would fit her tight. Her fingers ran over the supple leather appreciatively. “Should I try it on?” she asked Ian, brimming over with excitement.
“No protests over the gift?” he asked humorously as she rapidly removed the jacket from the hanger.
She flushed at that. “I should protest . . . it’s just . . . they both look like they were made for me,” she said, eyeing the helmet excitedly.
“That’s because they were,” he murmured. She gave him a smile over her shoulder as she hurried into the bathroom, wanting to see her reflection wearing the jacket. How did he always know the perfect gift? She wished she could do the same for him in return. She heard Ian’s phone ring in the distance as she zipped the coat and turned from side to side. It fit her perfectly—tight, sleek, and sexy.
She walked back into the bedroom suite, beaming. He sat on the couch again, talking on the phone. His eyebrows went up in subdued admiration as she modeled the jacket for him, his blue eyes running over her from head to toe.
“Let’s look into a bond issuance,” he was saying to whomever was on the other line. She walked toward Ian, feeling ridiculously happy after her conversation with him. Had she made a mistake in reneging on her dare to be finished with him?
But he’d said he’d try to not be so controlling. That’d meant a lot to her. She knew people couldn’t change their stripes overnight, and in Ian’s case, his desire to control and monitor those around him went all the way back to his childhood, when he’d been forced to look out for his mother versus the other way around.
Maybe that was what was partially behind her willingness to accept his gift. If he was going to try to bend a little, she should, too. Of course, the darling jacket and helmet were definitely easy gifts to accept, she acknowledged to herself, her hands running over the sleek lines of the jacket. Something sparked in Ian’s eyes when she caressed the leather just beneath her breasts.
Something flashed in her blood as well. She took another step toward him. He watched her fixedly, his nostrils flaring slightly. The absence from each other—her deep-down fear that she’d never touch him again—suddenly flared bright in her awareness.
“Let’s see the interest on the bonds and the filing costs, and we’ll compare that to a bank loan,” Ian said into the phone.
A strange brew of daring, gratitude, and desire stirred inside her chest. He’d given her the incalculable gift of her paintings. He’d given her back her past.
She wanted to give him something in return.
His expression flattened when she came before him and gently nudged apart his knees. His eyes widened when she knelt between them. He caught her hand when she reached for his silver belt buckle. She met his stare, imploring silently, and his grip on her slackened.
She unbuckled his belt and unfastened his pants with fleet fingers.
“But the bond issuance would give us more flexibility for future acquisitions where we want to use bank loans,” Ian was saying into the phone. Her knuckles brushed across his brief-covered balls as she tried to lower the waistband of his pants. He grunted and then cleared his throat to cover it. She glanced up at him thankfully when he lifted his hips slightly, assisting her in getting his pants and briefs down to his thighs.
She held his cock in her hand a moment later, studying it with fascination. He was as soft as she’d ever seen him. A wave of tenderness and lust swept through her at the vision of him, at the sensation . . . at his male scent filtering into her nose. Within seconds, she felt him stiffen, saw him lengthen and thicken.
Amazing.
She closed her eyes and slid him into her mouth, wanting to feel him grow harder there. Oh, I like this, she thought as a haze of desire surrounded her. When she took him into her mouth before he was fully erect, she could swallow more of him. Her head bobbed in his lap as she became more enthusiastic. His cock swelled, stretching her squeezing lips wide. She thrilled as his fingers ran through her hair, and then spread across her skull. In the distance, she heard him say, “Uh . . . what was that, Michael? Yes, just price out the two scenarios.”
He was fully tumescent now, filling her mouth . . . overfilling it, his hand on the back of her head gripping into her hair, using his hold to gently guide the rhythm. She began to use her hand in tandem with her mouth, stroking the thick stalk upward as she slid him out of her mouth, fisting it strenuously in a downward motion as she sunk down again over his cock.
He made a muted choking sound and coughed.
“Uh . . . yes, do me a favor Michael, and just get me the price scenarios for a ten-year bond issuance and a twenty. I’ll make a decision when I see all the data. Yes, that’s all for now, thank you.”
She was vaguely aware of his phone dropping to the couch cushion. She looked up at him, his cock embedded at half-staff in her mouth.
“Don’t give me that innocent look,” he murmured, using his hold on her hair to move her up and down on the staff of his cock, controlling her. “You knew exactly what you were doing, didn’t you? Didn’t you?” he asked more firmly even as he encouraged her to move faster. She nodded and hummed an affirmation. He hissed. “You make it your goal to torture me, Francesca.”
She sucked with all her might and shook her head slightly. He gasped.
“No need to deny the obvious, lovely,” he said, his voice growing rough.
She moaned feverishly, losing herself in the magic of giving him pleasure.