He was riveted by her expression, his green eyes watched her carefully, assessed her, craved her reaction like sustenance. Eden fought to keep that reaction to herself, refusing to share with him what she knew he so desperately craved. But he was a master at this game, the puppeteer to her marionette, and he pulled the strings accordingly, index and thumb tugged and twisted her nipples to tender peaks, and his lips drew up when he heard that delicious little moan. He stooped down just a bit and languidly slid his tongue up the side of her neck and while she shuddered, he took her ear between his teeth and nipped. “The red, my pet,” he said huskily, “so I can see it on my cock.” He kissed her shoulder before meeting her gaze in the mirror. “Don’t keep me waiting.”
He was gone and Eden was once again left utterly bereft. She stared at the woman in the mirror with silent reproach, realizing how differently things turned out in the four years since she’d been with Dominic.
She’d been painfully naïve in that first year of their marriage, believing with a hopeful heart that love would somehow bloom from their union . She hadn’t deluded herself into believing that they’d come together for any other reasons than using each other, but she’d been hopeful that they would overcome their dysfunctional beginning and form some sort of companionship. With her mother gone, Dominic had been her family and he’d been Eden’s hope of having children of her own. But he had quickly disabused her of those notions. Dominic Armstrong had married her simply for her body. A warm, supple body he could master and manipulate between imported cotton cloud sheets. And her body always surrendered to his mastery, didn’t it? Denying it seemed futile when the evidence was between her thighs. How was it possible to share an emotionless, loveless marriage with someone, yet be so drawn to them? So pathetically impassioned of them? She didn’t want to feel this way. Eden didn’t want to need him. The hypocrisy made her sick.
Dominic was a connoisseur of beautiful things. He had a room just below the mansion filled with priceless artifacts he’d collected over the years. Some of those things had been acquired through less than scrupulous means, but all the same, he’d eventually obtained them. Money made the world go round, it was a great incentive to nearly everything, and people were always more accommodating when they saw it. His little wife had certainly been impressed enough to sell herself to him for a measly half-million dollars. He watched her enter his private room, his methodical gaze raking over her with chilling accuracy. He knew every inch of that sinful body, had fucked and defiled every hole. He knew the location of every birthmark, had swept his tongue along every contour. He’d dined on the sweetness between her legs, had devoured her essence like it were ambrosia, and he found that he still could not get enough. The hunger he’d felt, the unmitigated lust that had struck him the very first time he’s laid eyes on her, refused to ebb.
He and his half-brother had the same taste in women, so Dominic hadn’t been surprised that Lucas had found Eden Mercer fascinating. Hell, he’d been completely bowled over the first time he saw her too. She’d been nineteen, nubile, and ripe for the picking, even in dark rinse jeans and the camisole she’d been wearing that night four years ago when she’d piqued Dominic’s interest. He remembered the bar. He remembered the cigarette smoke that had hung over the crowd like a cloud. The reason as to why he’d been among the common folk of late night downtown, attempting to drown his troubles in cheap watered-down liquor had evaporated the instant she’d stepped on stage. Eidetic memory replayed that very first moment, her hair had been shorter then, skimming just above her shoulders.
Skin like honey had glowed beautifully beneath the soft light of the stage, Dominic remembered sitting up a little straighter in his seat in the darkened corner of the bar. There’d been nervous energy haloing her petite frame, Dominic remembered the sweep of her pink tongue across her full mouth and how that one small gesture had made him want to bum-rush the stage and go caveman on her. He remembered the soft strains of the acoustic and then her voice—a breathy, gravelly sound that had instantly conjured images sex and made him rock hard. She’d sounded like the jazz singers of old, a siren at her microphone seducing the crowd with that low, smoky voice. When she’d disappeared, the absence of her presence had been staggering. He’d blinked a few times as if emerging from the best orgasm of his life. He’d felt unbalanced and remembered going home, standing beneath the powerful sprays of his shower and jacking off like some prurient teenager with his first porno flick.
She became Dominic’s obsession, and he’d known instantly that he would own her. She’d been a rarity, an artifact, another possession he needed to add to his innumerable collection. He’d worked diligently after that, twisting the hands of fate by calling in favors from the seamier lot of the city’s underbelly. He’d further compounded her and her mother’s staggering financial debt, he’d wanted them cornered and desperate. Then Dominic had waited patiently for the right moment to pounce. And it had all worked accordingly, although the slight hiccup with Lucas had been unforeseen.
She’d been Lucas’s latest amusement, but unlike his half-brother’s previous vices, this had been strictly off limits. Luckily Gregory and Millicent Armstrong had gotten wind of Lucas’s inane idea of marriage the very same time Dominic had discovered his brother sniffing around his property. And, just as he’d done when they were younger, Dominic had been called upon by the Armstrong patriarch to clean up his brother’s mess once again. The mess had been none other than Eden Mercer. The irony hadn’t been lost on Dominic. He couldn’t have worked it out better himself, but then again, he had.
Although the unexpected change of plans had taken him off guard. His lips drew upward slightly but not enough to form a smirk at the memory. Marriage. The idea would’ve been laughable had she not been so serious. He’d been inclined to call her bluff, but his own needs had been far too great. Pestered by a psychosis that he’d acquired sometime in his late teenage years, Dominic had been determined to have her, to own her, another rare beautiful piece for his vast collection. She could’ve made several other conditions and he would’ve agreed to anything just to possess her. But aside from that stipulation, she’d come without protest. She had seen the dollar signs and had eagerly given him access to the heaven between her thighs, where he reaped the benefits of his investment each and every night he was able.
The two men seated in the room with him were his special guests tonight. Bruce Barrett, the only person in the world he could call his best friend, sat a few inches from him in the leather wing back chair. While Brandon Jacobs, his VP, occupied another chair across the room. Dominic had invited them to dinner, he’d offered them the best of his liquor, and now he wanted to share with them his finest possession. It was about pride in all honesty, his Eden was another way for Dominic to further feed his ego.
She appeared in his line of sight, the satin robe she wore hanging slightly open but the sash kept it place—for now. She was barefooted as she came to a stop beside his chair and from beneath the veil of her dark lashes she looked at him, there was defiance in those honey gold eyes, but Dominic knew she wouldn’t dare embarrass him. He didn’t mind the defiance; in fact, he relished the challenge of breaking her each and every time. It made him hard just thinking about it.
“What will it be?” she asked in that dick stroking voice.
“Put on a show, my sweet,” he replied, taking a sip from his tumbler.
“Anything you want.”
He liked that. He was going to reward her for that.
He turned on the music for her, something slow and sultry but rich in bass. Seduction in every delicate footfall, she was every inch the seductress as she sashayed to the center of the triangle they made. She drew the corner of her bottom lip between her teeth while slowly tugging on the sash. His hooded gaze settled on her, raked her from head to toe with a sharp look that missed nothing. She’d left her sable black hair undone just as he’d advised from previous shows. It framed her oval face in loose waves, tumbling around her delicate rounded shoulders and down her back. The slight bit of makeup she had on only accentuated her features because he didn’t like her beauty tainted with.
Slowly shrugging out of her robe, she allowed it to slide down her body and pool at her feet. Dominic’s cock twitched even before the first glimpse of macchiato skin was revealed. The corners of his mouth rose slightly in semblance of a smile as he watched her. She had a body that was made for sin, and Dominic was just wicked enough to partake of the pleasures it offered. She was a slight little thing. Standing no taller than ’five foot, but she had the most alluring curves, rounded perfectly in all the right places. The bit of titillating black lace that covered her high, full breasts had Dominic’s hands itching to tear it off. His gaze veered down further, to the flat of her abdomen, halting briefly on the black lace garter belt and matching thong. She painted an alluring image, the combination of French lace and caramel skin made it nearly impossible to remain seated. Dominic aspired for control; he would have her soon enough. All in good time.