Hot in the City 2: Sin City (22 page)

“I’ll be gentle,” he promised, and he meant it. Slowly he nudged his cock into the warm cave of her pussy until he was snug inside.

Beneath him, she bit her lip in that sexy way of hers and lifted her head slightly to kiss him. As he moved tenderly in and out of her wetness, he lowered more kisses to her mouth, her breasts, and then—

God, he came. It struck without warning and was unstoppable—he was suddenly groaning as he emptied into her sweet body and wondering what the hell had happened. He’d never come so fast in his life, not even his first time when he’d been sixteen and horny as hell.

He laid his head on her breast. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I…”

“That’s okay,” she said, stroking his hair. “I’ll take it as a compliment.”

He exchanged a playful smile with her, even laughed. This woman was…doing things to him. Things he didn’t want to admit or think about. She was making him want to do way more than fuck her, way more than even hang out talking and laughing with her.

“I wish I could stay with you tonight,” he said. He wanted to fall asleep like this, his head nestled on her soft breast. He wanted to wake up next to her tomorrow morning.

She lifted her head slightly, jarring his rest. “You can’t?”

He propped himself on one elbow next to her. “I’m expecting a call from Paris at six a.m., which is three p.m. there. I have to be sure I’m home to take it, and I’m afraid if I fall asleep here, I might not be.” He cringed. It was the truth, yet it sounded weak. “I’m sorry, sweetheart, but it’s important.”

She nodded easily. “You don’t have to apologize. I understand.”

Of course she did, he thought. He’d told her getting this job in Paris was the biggest thing in his life right now; he’d made her believe it was as significant to
him
as marrying Bradley and making her parents happy seemed to
her
. And he’d meant it.

But if Paris was so damn important, why was it so difficult for him to get up out of her bed, put his clothes on, and leave?

“Can I ask you something?” Diana said.

“Anything.”

She looked shockingly innocent peering into his eyes. “Why did you only fuck Adrianna in the ass?”

He blinked, a little surprised she’d noticed. “Well, I guess, for some reason…I don’t know…I just didn’t want to be inside her pussy.” He let out a sigh, then a confession. “I guess I just wanted to save doing that with you.” He shook his head. “Does that make any sense at all?”

She smiled. “Mmm hmm, and I’m glad. I kind of…didn’t actively encourage Carter in that direction, either…for the same reason. But I didn’t know if it made any sense, either, so I didn’t mention it to you.”

He gave her a soft grin and fought down the emotion filling him. “We’d better watch out, sweetheart, or we might just get attached to each other and then all of our plans will be ruined.” Bradley for her. Paris for him.

She looked as uncertain as he felt when she smiled tightly and said in a small voice, “Well, we’ll just have to make sure that doesn’t happen.”

As he drove home a few minutes later, a strange melancholy overtook him. Even the bright lights of the Vegas strip couldn’t break through it—he barely saw them, or heard the traffic. His mind was back at the Venetian with a certain incredibly “sinsuous” brunette who, at moments, made Paris feel like it would be the most boring place on earth if she wasn’t there to share it with him.

* * * * *

The next day, Diana arrived at the Adrianna, Inc. offices early. Funny, after the previous nights’ activities, she’d have expected to feel exhausted, but instead she’d awakened at dawn, showered and dressed quickly, and even partaken of the large buffet at one of the hotel restaurants. Apparently she’d worked up an appetite last night.

She felt rather sheepish about the idea of bumping into Adrianna, but she was looking forward to seeing Marc. He’d been so wild and forceful early in the evening, but later he’d become soft and sweet and loving, reinforcing for her that the master and slave game was only that—a game, one which he just happened to play very well.

Stepping off the elevator, she found Holly’s desk empty, and was walking down the hall toward the conference room where the catalog team spent time brainstorming when the bathroom door opened directly in front of her. Adrianna walked out, looking as prim and proper as ever in a plum Christian Dior suit, a small pair of glasses balanced on her nose, her hair pulled back in a low bun.

Studying the papers she carried, she barely glanced up at Diana. “Good morning, Miss Marsh.”

“Good morning,” Diana returned, but her boss was already past her and still immersed in her work.

Well,
that
had been easier than she’d anticipated. Not much of a cuddler, to say the least, she thought, bemused with her mysterious employer. She was relieved Adrianna had handled it so…well, so much as if it hadn’t even happened.

Although she was glad to have had the experience, glad to have played Marc’s sexually daring game, Diana had also awakened thinking maybe she’d found the one aspect of sex that wasn’t really
her
. Yes, she’d come to enjoy calling Marc “master” and submitting to his will, and she’d even enjoyed Adrianna’s softness, but if they had occasion to do that again, she planned to request it be a party for two. She still found Adrianna wildly attractive and alluring in her power, but something inside Diana was beginning to feel there were certain things she wanted to share only with Marc.

She pulled up short just outside the conference room, realizing what an asinine thought she’d just had.
Things she wanted to share only with Marc?

Whenever the catalog was put to bed, she’d share nothing more with Marc than an occasional phone call at work, and if he moved to Paris, not even that. It was hard for her to imagine him suddenly not being in her life.

But that was how things were going to be. She was going home to be a good girl, and he was going overseas to seek excitement.

Letting out a sigh, she continued on her way into the room, sinking into the nearest chair. Opening her briefcase, she pulled out her laptop and began checking e-mail, answering a few of the more important ones.

“Hey.”

She looked up to see Marc come in. He carried his briefcase and a white bakery bag.

“Donut?” he asked with a smile, holding up the bag in an offer to share.

“No thanks.” As usual lately, seeing him made her heart do a little flip-flop as she gently patted her stomach. “I just stuffed myself on the buffet at the Venetian.”

He leaned his head back in understanding. “I usually skip breakfast, but was hungrier than usual today, too.” He concluded with a wink.

“Did you get your call from Paris?”

He nodded, but didn’t offer any information.

“And?” she prodded.

He sat down across from her. “Well, things look good. I’m their top choice. They have two other guys yet to interview, but my contact there said in all likelihood they’ll offer me the job.” He’d relayed it all in a matter-of-fact voice, as if they were discussing day-to-day business.

She raised her eyebrows slightly. “You don’t sound very excited about it.”

He blinked, suddenly seeming to come awake, his eyes taking on the spark she was used to. “I am,” he said. “Definitely. But I don’t like to count my chickens before they’re hatched, or my jobs before they’re offered, know what I mean?”

She nodded, but she still didn’t think he seemed as enthused as he should.

“So,” he said, flashing a smile, “what’s up for tonight? Or have I so totally exhausted you that you’re gonna kick me out of your life for an evening?”

“Well, it’s true you’ve totally worn me out, but…I have way too much fun with you to turn you down.”

His grin widened. “That’s what I like to hear. So, any ideas on what you’d like to do?”

“What, you don’t have a plan for us? Even if I end up calling the shots sometimes, you usually have a plan to at least start us out.”

His smile turned slightly sheepish. “That’s why I’m asking
you
. I thought after last night, it might be considerate of me to let
you
decide what we do tonight.”

She tilted her head, thinking, but it didn’t take long before she came up with something. “You know what I’d really enjoy?”

“What?”

“This will probably sound boring to you, especially since you live here, but…I would really love to tour the strip tonight. You know, look around some of the big hotels, do a little gambling, that sort of thing.” Her nose wrinkled into a doubtful sneer. “Would that be a total drag?”

Across the table, he bit into a glazed donut and laughed. “Actually, it sounds like fun.”

His response made her smile. “Really?”

He leaned slightly forward. “I would
love
to spend a night on the town with you.”

* * * * *

Marc couldn’t have been more pleased at the prospect of spending an evening alone with Diana—
finally
. When he knocked on the door of her room at the Venetian, she answered in a simple but elegant short black cocktail dress that hugged every curve on her gorgeous body. Although she usually wore her tawny hair straight, tonight it was curled into sexy spirals that gave her a whole new look.

“Have I mentioned that every time I look at you my cock gets hard?” he asked, flashing a seductive grin without even planning to.

She laughed, twining her slender arms loosely about his neck. “I thought that’s what happened when you thought about my pussy.”

He met her gaze and hoped she saw the fire mixed in with his amusement. “That, too. Sweetheart, pretty much everything about you gets me hot, fast.”

She drew one hand down, flattening her palm against the bulge in his pants, which he was pretty sure had become the equivalent of a marble pillar. “Oooh,” she purred, her hazel eyes looking sexy as sin.

“Like what you feel?” he asked teasingly.

“
So
much.” As if to prove it, she pressed her body flush against his, crushing her soft, lovely cunt against his hard-on before she delivered a provocative tongue kiss.

It took all the strength he possessed to gently separate them to arm’s length as he cast a warning look her way. “We can’t start that this early or we’ll never get out of the room.”

He loved that she looked disappointed.

“But later,” he promised, lowering his voice to a raspy whisper, “I’m gonna fuck you so good you’ll never forget it.”

She licked her lips in reply.

“Which reminds me,” he said, “did you happen to pack a swimsuit?”

She glanced over her shoulder toward the armoire. “Yes, but given the hours we’ve been keeping, I haven’t had a chance to even think about going to the pool. Why?”

“Toss it in a bag or in your purse. As for why, that’s a little surprise for later.” When she planted her hands on her hip in mock scolding, he laughed. “I know, I know, I told you tonight was yours to plan, but when an opportunity came up for me to add something at the end, I couldn’t resist.”

“That’s okay,” she said. “I love your surprises.”

Chapter Nine

After putting her white bikini in her purse at Marc’s request, Diana took his arm and they headed toward the elevator. He admitted then that he actually had a
few
surprises in mind for her. “Nothing too shocking,” he promised with a grin, “but just a few fun things for your night on the strip.”

His first surprise was only steps away, an elegant Italian restaurant called Canaletti, right in the Venetian, overlooking the Grand Canal. The ceilings seemed to rise a mile above the shiny hardwood floors, and the ornate setting was accented with arched windows reminiscent of European cathedrals. They were shown to a luxurious booth that seemed to envelop them and gave off an intense feeling of intimacy.

Over dinner, they talked—about the catalog, about the enigmatic Adrianna, about the wild, glorious sex they’d shared since her arrival, but also about other things, as well. Marc told her a little about his family, who resided in Scottsdale, where he’d been born and raised. His father was a retired cop who’d come west from New York in his twenties after meeting Marc’s mother while she was visiting her Italian grandparents in Little Italy.

“That makes you, what—one-eighth Italian?”

He shook his head. “A full half, actually. My mother was the first girl in her family to break ranks and marry a non-Italian. My father is lucky, though. Unlike me, he can cook. He makes a mean risotto,” he added on a laugh, “and that’s about the only hope he had of proving himself worthy of my mother’s family.”

He went on to tell her he was the oldest of four children, two boys and two girls, “which meant I got away with the most. By the time my brother and sisters became teenagers, my parents were wise to my tricks. I wasn’t a
bad
kid,” he went on, “but…well, I guess I was kind of the same as I am today. I was a good enough kid, but I liked to party, experiment, have fun, so I was definitely the wild one in my family.”

Diana laughed, feeling a whole new kinship with him. “As I’ve told you before, I’m definitely the official Marsh family wild child, too.”

He gazed deeply into her eyes, and even though she knew he’d done that before, somehow it affected her more profoundly now. “That must explain why we fit so well together.”