Final Call (The Call #2) (28 page)

It might be a different
context, but if this whole blackmail situation has taught me
anything, it’s that only one man should ever see my body again.
That man is Aaron.

“Yeah, I could tell,
love. It’s something you would have gotten used to, but I get it.”
Tyler pulls out a folder. “What are you going to do with
these?”

I smile. “Keep them.
Maybe I’d be better on the other side of the camera.”

“I doubt Aaron will
rest until you’re working for him.”

“And I’m not making his
ass coffee.” I grab the one Tyler holds out to me. “I do that every
morning.” I pause. “Do you have to travel a lot? I mean, I really
like the idea of being a photographer. It seems kind of fun.”

“It is.” He grins. “You
don’t have to travel. I do because I choose to, but I think Aaron
would have you doing domestic shoots more often than not.”

Good.
I need to
do something now. I need to feel like I’m doing more than cleaning
the shower five times a day out of sheer boredom. And this…
Photography…

I really enjoyed it in
London, watching him shoot. Being on Tyler’s side of the camera was
comfortable and enjoyable. I can see myself doing that more than
being the one posing.

So it means I’d have to
go back to school. I’ll be twenty-five tomorrow. Is that too old?
No. I’m still young, and although it would take a couple of years
to finish the classes, I’m guessing, it wouldn’t be too late.

“Hey, would you teach
me some?” I smile sweetly at Tyler. “Please.”

“I have a shoot this
afternoon. Want to come with?”

“Could I?” My phone
buzzes in my pocket. “Hang on.”

Come home. I have a
surprise for you, is what the text from Aaron says.

“Looks like I’ll have
to join you next time. Aaron wants me home.”

Tyler grins. “I know.
The shoot was a bluff.”

Suspicion narrows my
eyes. “What are you two planning?”

“I’m not planning
anything. I’m merely the one talked into keeping you out of the way
for his planning.”

A black car pulls up
outside the coffee shop. “Is that mine?”

“Yep.” Another grin
stretches across his face, and he leads me outside and opens the
door. “Have fun. By the way, I’m flying back to London tomorrow.
I’ll think about this photography thing and call you, okay?”

“Sure thing.” I sit
back in the chair as the car pulls away.

Tyler waves through the
window, and my thoughts immediately turn to Aaron. A surprise for
me? I hate surprises. They’ve all been bad lately.

And since it’s my
birthday tomorrow, I can’t help but worry that it’ll be something
over the top.

Oh, god. I swear, if he
proposes to me, I’ll shove the box up his ass.

That would be so him.
He would so plan for me to have coffee with his cousin—why didn’t I
notice something was up then? —then do something ridiculously
outrageous.

That thought hangs with
me the whole journey home, and by the time I reach our apartment,
my hands are sweating. I push the door open slowly and stop when my
eyes find him.

He’s standing in front
of the bar, next to an array of covered plates. His eyes are
sparkling with mischief and his clothes are totally casual. I
glance at his jeans. No bulges in his pockets. No box on the
table.

Stupid unnecessary
freak-out.

But still…my heart
pangs a little. After all his talk in London, it wasn’t a
ridiculous thought, and maybe moving in has made me want it a
little.

That or the pressure of
this blackmail bullshit is getting to me.

“Sit down.” Aaron pulls
me over to the barstool and sits me on it. He throws my purse on
the sofa behind him and tugs my shoes off.

“What are you
doing?”

“Your best friend
informed me that she’s stealing you for the day tomorrow for your
birthday, so I’m bringing my plans forward.”

“Ignoring the fact you
seem to talk to Liv more than I do lately, you should be at
work.”

“And you should be
blindfolded with your mouth full of food by now, but let’s not fuss
over technicalities.”

My eyebrows shoot up.
“Blindfolded?”

He pulls a black silk
tie from his pocket, a sexy smirk on his face—the one that tugs at
my core—and runs it through his fingers. “Objecting?”

I shake my head. Nope.
I’m not objecting.

“Good.” He steps behind
me and covers my eyes with it, tying it securely at the back of my
head. “Can you see anything?”

“Black silk,” I
retort.

He gently tugs a lock
of my hair, and the warmth crawling over my cheek tells me that his
mouth is by my ear. It’s not even warmth. No, it’s a hot caress
across my skin that sets all of me on fire.

“Watch your mouth,” he
whispers. “You’re blindfolded and completely under my control.”

Shivers fall down my
spine in an oddly erotic way at his words.
Oh boy.

“I could take it off,”
I reply weakly. We both know I won’t.

Aaron’s thumb runs down
my neck and chest to the curve of my breasts. “No, you won’t.
You’ll leave it on until I tell you to take it off.”

“Is that right?”

He touches his lips to
the corner of my mouth, pulling away when I turn my head.
“Absolutely. It stays on until I’m ready to remove it. Now let me
feed you.”

“It’s three in the
afternoon.”

“I don’t particularly
care. I know you skipped lunch, so right now, the only time I want
you to open these gorgeous lips is when I’m putting food between
them. Are we clear?”

“Crystal.”

“Excellent. Now, here
we go.”

Something slightly
rough nudges at the seam of my lips and I part them. I bite into
it, strawberry juice flooding my mouth, and lick my lips slowly.
“Mmmm.”

Aaron’s mouth covers
mine, silencing my low hum of approval at the sweet fruit, the
simple touch heating my body. It’s been a matter of minutes since
he covered my eyes with his tie but I can already feel everything
so much more intensely.

“Next,” he murmurs,
bringing another to my lips.

Some juice dribbles
down my chin, and he quickly flicks his tongue against my skin,
licking it up. The tip of his tongue slides along my bottom lip,
and I let out a quiet moan.

Is this feeding or a
lesson in seduction?

“Shh. We won’t get
through nearly half of these foods if you make that sound every
time.”

“Then don’t lick my
lips.”

“Dayton, gorgeous”—he
touches something cold in a spoon to my mouth—“your lips aren’t the
only thing I plan on licking today.”

That’s it. I’m done
for.

Every spark of
simmering heat in my body shoots downward at his words, settling
deep in my pussy. It swirls into a heavy ache that wets my panties
at his promising words.

“Chocolate mousse,” I
mutter. “Is this a guessing game? It’s easy.”

“No guessing game. Just
an exercise to show you how much more intense everything is when
you can’t see.”

And he’s right.

Every drop of juice,
every lick of a spoon, every sweet layer on my tongue is more
potent and intense than it is when I can see it. His hand at my hip
is tighter and stronger than if I could see it there.

I don’t feel his touch
and the taste of the food in the places I’m supposed to. I taste it
and I feel it in every part of my body.

“Open your mouth,” he
says huskily, and I know this is getting to him too. Good. He
shouldn’t expect to be able to take away my eyes and not get turned
on himself.

But what even is
this?

I feel the cold chill
of glass against my bottom lip, and I close my lips over it. The
rich taste of champagne fills my mouth and assaults every taste bud
sitting on my tongue as I swallow it down slowly, savoring the
richer-than-normal taste.

Mango presses between
my lips, and I swallow it down easily, and when he presses what
feels like a grape against my mouth, I can’t help the twitch of it.
Dammit, don’t play with me, Stone.

“Don’t you have more
important things to be doing?” I murmur against the grape.

“No. The lawsuits were
distributed this morning and my afternoon is clear for you. So do
as you’re told.” He pushes the grape into my lips and I open my
mouth.

I close my lips around
his fingers, ignoring the grape, and press my tongue against them
as he pulls them out of my mouth. He growls low. The sound
reverberates through my body, hardening my nipples and adding to
the ache in my core.

“Dayton.”

My name leaves him as
little more than a husky whisper, and I know instantly that the
power has shifted. Where, five minutes ago, he held every bit of
it, some has transferred to me. Some has left him and seeped into
me with the mere closing of my lips around his fingers.

I smirk, reaching my
hand out and finding his. Our fingers link in a moment so intimate,
and I squeeze his hand. “I’m not hungry anymore,” I whisper.

“You’re not done.” He
squeezes back and pulls his fingers from mine.

Jesus, no.
I
don’t want food. I want him. I want his body and his touch and his
tongue. I want it fucking everywhere.

I sit impatiently
through three more tastings of mango, strawberries, and more
champagne. The anticipation is tightening every muscle in my body,
practically begging for the answer to all the questions in my
mind.

“Why are you doing
this?” I ask quietly when he presses his forehead to mine.

“Because you deserve to
relax and forget. And I know I can take you to that crazy fucking
oblivion where nothing exists except you and me.”

He’s right. Him and me.
That’s what I want. The sweet, delirious, all-encompassing,
shattering shudder of my body tightening around his. Of every
muscle in my pussy clenching and milking his obvious erection for
everything it has inside. Of that one single moment where we’re
both flying high, prisoners to our pleasure.

“I won’t beg you. Not
today.”

“No begging
required.”

The clink of plates
reaches my ears, and his hands curve around my ass. I wrap my legs
around him, and he lifts me, setting me on the bar, and presses his
finger to my lips.

“One more,” he rasps.
“Okay?”

I nod.

“Open your mouth.”

I do, tilting my head
back slightly. The roughness of a shell rests against my bottom
lip, and I know what this is before I taste the salty yet slimy
fish.

Oyster.

“Bleurgh,” I
mutter.

“You live in Seattle
and you don’t like oysters?”

“No. I’m not a fan of
shellfish,” I reply, feeling him push my legs open.

“You ate shrimp in the
Chinese.”

“No, I threw one at you
and left the rest piled on the side of my plate.”

He chuckles, standing
between my legs.
God, don’t step forward.

He does. I push my hips
into him at the brush of his erection across the apex of my thigh,
and his hands slide up my legs. He slips me across the granite and
into him. His erection is hard against my core, rubbing my clit,
and if my eyes weren’t already closed, I swear to fuck they’d be
squeezed shut so tightly I’d never see again…

This feeling, his
hardness against my tenderness while he has me blindfolded, is
insanely world-shaking.

Aaron crashes his lips
to mine. The oaky taste lingering on him tells me that he’s been
sipping whisky as he’s been feeding me. Somehow I’ve been too
wrapped up in the overwhelming flavors of the food to notice, but
it’s a welcome taste.

It’s warm, touching
every part of me, even as his tongue flicks between my lips and
begs for entrance into my mouth.

I let him have it,
sliding my hands up his arms and into his hair. I tangle my fingers
in his silky locks, dreading the day he’ll cut them, and arch
myself into him. The rest of his body is as hard and tense as his
dick against me, and I take a deep breath.

“I’m really, really not
hungry any longer.”

I hear the begging in
my voice. The plea. The request.

“I think you need
something else.”

I tug on his hair hard.
“You’re not the only one who can require, Mr. Stone.”

His lips find my neck
and trail down it, peppering kisses. “Tell me, Miss Black. Do you
require me to lay you back on our bed and sink my dick so far
inside you that we become one?”

“Yep. That. Exactly
that.”

He’s the only man I’ve
ever met who can bring me to my knees. The only one who can make me
shiver in real anticipation, clench in desire, thrust in
desperation.

He laughs quietly,
sliding his hands across my body, and cups my ass. Slowly, he lifts
me, bringing me flush against him, and carries me. I can feel
nothing but the rock of his cock against my clit and the pressure
of his fingertips on my butt.

I’ve never had a sexual
experience that’s lasted so long. I’ve never felt so strongly about
needing to be filled until I scream.

Aaron Stone is a force
to be reckoned with.

The softness of our
mattress cushions my behind as I’m lowered onto it. I still feel
his touch stronger than anything. It’s almost as if he’s caressing
my whole body with his fingertips without really moving them,
desperate for every inch of me to feel his intoxicating touch.

And I do. Goose bumps
erupt across my body, snaking across my skin, making my hairs stand
on end, sparking little shivers. I can feel his eyes running from
my head to the very tips of my toes. Feel his gaze coast over my
curves, pausing on my breasts and hips.

I don’t know how I know
it. Perhaps it’s in the subtle way his breath hitches, getting
heavier when he exhales deeply. Perhaps it’s in the twitch of his
fingers as they dig deeper into my skin. Or perhaps it’s in the
lust and arousal ricocheting between his body and mine.