The Accidental Mistress (12 page)

"I'm an American businessman. I pay a staff
of public relations people to handle our image."

"There's more. You get me. For two weeks,
while we finalize the deal, and legitimize the funding. You will
have all of me on your terms."

"Why do the Baptiste inspire such sacrifice
from you, Zuri?"

"They're hardworking, honest, good people.
They treat me with respect. Something you know nothing about. Think
about it, or destroy them, and we part here, which is easy for a
man like you."

"I will admit that I was a bastard then. I
am sorry for it. But the business deals I make are never done in
bed. You are making a mistake in thinking that you can play games
with a man like me."

"I suggest you sleep on it, Mr.
Montague."

"So you become my whore and I ultimately pay
the tab to the Baptiste?"

"Don't call me a whore!"

"Don't act like one."

Zuri slapped him. The sound echoed like a
firecracker in the room. Wild fury blazed in her eyes. He lost his
head. He wanted to apologize, but the words didn't form.

"I hate you!" She stomped out of the room
for the door but he caught her, turned her to face him. "Not so
fast sparrow. Who are you really? Time for answers."

"Let me go!" she shouted. "I scream and they
will come rushing in here!"

Zuri was several inches shorter. Up against
him she had to remain on her toes. She pushed at his shoulders but
his face descended for the kiss and she gave up her lips like a
good girl. It was brief, but decadent. She shoved him off with more
strength than he thought someone of her stature could summon.

He lost his head. He knew he should
apologize. And then he didn't have too. She stepped to him again,
captured the sides of his face and to his delight offered her lips
by brushing them with his. There was no turning back.

Zuri hadn't thought what kissing this man
would do. In one smooth move he trapped her arms behind her back,
manacled them in one hand, and covered her mouth with his.
Certainly she hadn't thought this one through. She struggled
against his smooth invading tongue that swept over hers. She was
crushed against his broad unyielding chest. He tasted of strength
and frustration. He tasted like a dream, and she was once again
hopelessly his. Her mouth accepted the dominance of his darting
tongue and soon she chased it with her own. Her belly melted
against the stiff ridge of his belt. She drifted on the promise of
a satisfying seduction. Zuri’s eyes fluttered shut as her body
became alive, vibrant, and pliant. Then reality snapped like an
overstressed rubber band.

Zuri broke the kiss first. She wiped at her
mouth with the back of her hand, pretending disgust. "Times up. Ten
minutes is all you asked for."

"The hell it is!" He bracketed her hips with
his hands and lifted her so that her legs went around his waist,
her back to the wall. He met her tongue with his own, slanting his
mouth over hers so no further objection could be heard. She was
naked under her robe; he assumed it would be so, probably thought
she planned it that way. Had she? Nothing made sense to her
anymore. Just raw heat and lust beyond anything she could
conceive.

Zuri whimpered in frustration.

"I know," he breathed. "I need it too," he
stammered, kissing her harder, snatching open the sash holding the
front of her robe open. He let his hands roam over the sides of her
thighs then under to cup both halves of her buttocks.

Christophe rolled his hips and ground in his
erection. Zuri fought against her desire but not as hard as she
could. The truth was hard to deny. He felt good. He felt too damn
delicious. Zuri pushed at his shoulders to relieve the aching
pressure. He shifted her higher and released her mouth to capture
her left nipple. Arousal bloomed within her, radiating out to
tingle through all her limbs. Her lips softened. Her eyelids went
heavy. He licked, sucked, nibbled her areola until she was
creaming.

I can't fight it anymore...

Zuri squeezed her eyes
shut. Too much feeling and emotion came with her desire for this
man. She remembered bliss in the form of his thick veined cock and
the powerful ways he used it. Holding on, barely, she felt the
muscles in the back of her legs strain as they locked in around his
waist. He ran his tongue up from her breasts to her neck then began
to suck against her racing pulse. He lowered his zipper.
No! No! No! Not again!
Her mind screamed.

Christophe chuckled, as if he heard her
mental cries for release. His cock breached her opening and eased
inside her, slower than she could bear. Instinctively she flexed
her hips and clenched her walls, drawing him in as she slid up and
down the wall on his upward turned cock. He set a rhythm and he had
all the control. What could she do but follow it? A moan started
low in her throat., It grew louder and more frantic until she
screamed out his name. She came hard, so hard she was dizzy for a
moment.

"You want to be my mistress? Shall I fuck
you like one?"

Zuri half heard, half understood, too much
sensation and heat had come over her to be sure.

Christophe let her down, ripped the robe
free, of her and then moved her to the dresser. There he forced her
to face the mirror with her hands to the surface, him behind. "Is
this what you wanted?"

Her throat closed. She couldn't answer. She
didn't know how to respond, because her body was still quaking with
the after shocks of her climax.

Christophe dropped to his knees. He knelt
behind her and grabbed both halves of her ass cheeks, separating
them. Now his face was directly in front of her dripping, aching
pussy. He began to press tender kisses to the outer folds. Zuri
dropped her head and moaned. Involuntarily she shook her ass and
thrust it back to smash her pussy into his face for more. He had to
give her more! His nose brushed against her damp slit. "You smell
so fucking good woman," he spoke, and she barely heard him.

Zuri gasped as he next devoured her pussy
with his mouth. Not a single inch of her sex escaped his mouth as
he slurped on her clit. The action drained all her inhibitions
away. He ate her pussy as if it would be his last supper on earth.
Her ass and pussy bucked back and up against his face, and his
wonderful tongue gave a full figure eight sweep of her pussy before
piercing her cunt. Zuri cried out, tossing her head back and
dipping her back. He then licked her from her quivering clit to her
anus. Her ass, thighs, knees all began to shake as she thought
she'd break. However, just as swiftly as it began it stopped. He
rose. Shaken and shocked, she managed to open her eyes and look at
him behind her in the mirror.

Christophe gave her a wicked smirk and
dropped a hand to her shoulder. He shot his hips forward and went
in deep. Zuri lifted on her toes, but her feet were kicked apart.
Spread for him she dipped her back and pushed back. They did so in
unison, thrusting. His cock plunged into her. His balls hit her
dripping cunt with a loud wet smack. She shook her ass and he
slipped in even further. Christophe drilled into her repeatedly;
the mirror began smacking back into the wall, her reflection and
his shimmering before them. They never broke eye contact. Never.
They breathed in sync, moved as one. He folded over her and reached
his hand beneath to squeeze her clit. She came. As her reward, he
throttled her beaten sex, again and again and again....

Zuri shuddered. Her palms now sweaty, slid
across the dresser. Christophe had to catch her under the waist to
keep her from going flat the surface. His thickly veined cock
stretched her deliciously. He worked his dick in and out in such a
frenzy the friction sparked a tidal wave of emotion and she crashed
gloriously.

Zuri shot up in bed. She looked around in a
panic. Sweat covered her face and chest; her robe had come open to
reveal droplets trickling down between her breasts. She looked down
at herself. Her body was still aflame, her pussy mostly. She
swallowed a deep breath and tried to regulate her breathing.
Darkness engulfed her. It took several torturous minutes to realize
it had been a dream. She scrambled out of bed dragging the bed
sheets out of its neat folds and tucks and realized she had fallen
asleep in his room. Even if it wasn't a dream, she needed to
escape. As she turned for the bedroom door she heard the suite door
open. Someone had entered. In her panic, Zuri bolted. She chose the
closet, closing its double doors gently. The shutters gave her a
view of the room. Her quick thinking saved her a world of
embarrassment. It was Christophe Montague.

He walked inside with his luggage. He
dropped his bag and stared at the bed. Was he frowning? She could
barely see his face. Zuri covered her mouth. She had rumpled the
sheets. Damn it! She wanted everything neat and tidy. Now he
believed the room was un-kept.

Zuri grimaced when he went to the phone on
the nightstand and called downstairs. He requested someone come up
immediately and tend to his bed. His voice, sharp and heavy with
frustration, wouldn't bode well for any plans she had to charm him.
The dream still had her heart racing. In her dream, he saw through
her plan and fucked her anyway. He called her a whore, and then
fucked her like one. Her dream was a warning. She would need to
play this smart.

Christophe stormed out of the room and Zuri
stepped back into the wall of the closet. She slid down. It was
only a dream, so why was she tingling with need for more?

***

Christophe poured a glass of scotch. The bar
was stocked with Johnny Walker, blue and black label. It was an
improvement to the state he found his bed in when he arrived. He
sipped his scotch as the maid tidied up. He had read a little on
the Oasis, and its sister hotel, The Lagoon, during his flight. He
expected a little more polishing. But in fairness, he was early,
and they may have been overbooked.

Either way, he decided not to judge them
just yet.

"
Monsieur
, everything is in order,"
the maid announced, returning with her arms full of bed sheets. She
pushed them in her cart. He walked over and gave her a tip then
bade her goodnight.

Christophe was wiped. All he wanted was a
shower and bed. He walked over to the drink he half finished and
tossed back the final shot. It would lull him to sleep. Strolling
into the bedroom, he shed his suit jacket.

***

Zuri heard movement. She
crawled over to the closet door and peeked. On her hands and knees
she pushed her eye to the slotted opening. Christophe peeled off
his shirt. Zuri couldn't tear her eyes away. She didn't want to
look anywhere else; the sight of his fabulous body transfixed her.
With each discarded item his male perfection unveiled.
Mon Dieu!
He had taken
well care of himself over the years. He was broad shouldered and
athletically built. There were strong powerful cuts of muscles to
his back. When he turned she found the same marvelous definition
rippled along his torso and shoulder blades as well. She dug her
nails into the carpet, remembering the dream, remembering the ways
he felt when his cock was inside of her. His olive skin was
unmarred. Dark silky hair narrowed down from his navel into the
waistband of his trousers. When he undid the buckle, she
tensed.

Zuri lowered her eyes and
struggled with the most primal of desires. When she lifted her
gaze, she froze. He stared directly at the closet. Had she spoken?
Had she made a noise?
Please! Please!
Don't make him come to the closet.
If he
decided to unpack and put up his clothes she was dead. There would
be no way to explain her hiding on her hands and knees. No way to
claim the little dignity she needed to barter for her
family.

She waited.

Waited.

Waited.

Christophe blinked and looked away. He
grabbed the smaller bag of the two and headed for the bathroom. She
knew it rather than saw it. And soon it was confirmed by the sound
of the shower. Zuri rose carefully. She touched the handle on the
closet and considered fleeing. She could throw it open and run for
it. But what if he wasn't in the shower? What if the bathroom door
stood open and he saw her? Maybe it was best to wait. Her wavering
on the issue took longer than she intended. The water turned off
and her heart sunk.

Zuri moved back from the closet door and
closed her eyes. "Please don't let him come to the closet. Please
God." she prayed.

She heard the squeak of the mattress and
opened her eyes. Curious, she peered out at him. He was sitting on
the edge of the bed with his face in his palms. He wore a towel
around his waist, but his legs parted revealing a hint of his cock.
His shoulders rose and fell as he heaved several deep sighs.

What was wrong with him?

Would he speak? Sometimes people talked to
themselves. She often did. But he never said a word. Eventually he
rose, cast the towel aside, to let his dick hang. It swung low
against his thigh as he walked over and drew back the sheets and
slipped in under the covers. Deep down, she wished she could be the
one to join him. But that didn't surpass her urge to run out and
take the pillow and smother him in his sleep.

The man was an asshole, the worst kind. A
wealthy powerfully sexy jerk. So what he had issues? Didn't they
all? She rolled her eyes, deciding to hate Christophe Montague no
matter what her weak heart proposed. The light clicked off and it
was over. Now she would do nothing but wait.

***

Zuri opened her eyes. Her head lifted from
her knees. She had fallen asleep with her back against the wall and
her legs drawn up to her chest. Her bum, and her back both ached
terribly. When she tried to rise, several of her strained muscles
creaked. She carefully opened the closet. Christophe lay sprawled
over the bed, the sheets tangled around his waist.