Chapter 10
“You’re not going to tell me where we’re going?” Damien asks. It’s just past eight in the morning, and Edward is driving us eastward on Interstate 10 in the limousine.
“Not a chance,” I say, taking his now-empty champagne glass and making him a fresh mimosa from the OJ and champagne I had Edward stock in the limo’s bar. “You’re stuck with me until we get there.”
“There being…?”
“Ha. Like I’d fall for that.”
He chuckles. “Worth a try.” He takes a sip of the mimosa, then slides it into one of the holders designed for stemware. “How about this—if you won’t tell me where we’re going, will you at least tell me where the girls are?”
I tilt my head as if considering. “Do you trust me?”
“Completely,” he says.
“Good,” I say. “And you’ll find out where your daughters are soon enough.”
“Soon,” he repeats, sounding almost disappointed.
I frown. “What?”
He shrugs. “Just that it’s hard to take advantage of all that a limo has to offer if the ride is that short.”
I narrow my eyes. “You’re being sneaky, aren’t you?”
“Me?”
I point at him. “Don’t act all innocent. You’re trying to figure out where we’re going by figuring out how long the ride is.”
He holds up his hands. “I plead not guilty.”
“Hmm.” I finish refilling my own mimosa and then slide back across the seat to sit next to him. “Well, the truth is, that all of those advantages that a limo has to offer is one of the reasons we’re taking it and not one of your toys.” Damien owns an impressive collection of cars, and rarely turns down an opportunity to take one on the open road. This morning, however, I wanted Damien beside me, and his hands somewhere other than the wheel.
“Really?” he replies. “I’m intrigued.”
“Good,” I say casually, reaching over him to put my mimosa beside his. Then I climb onto his lap and kiss him lightly. “Because it occurred to me that making out like teenagers in the backseat would be a very fun way to pass the time until we get to where we’re going.”
I can tell he’s about to answer, but I silence him with a kiss. Soft at first, then harder and deeper when his lips part and I can tease him with my tongue. Then harder still as I feel him harden between my legs. I’m straddling him, my knees on the leather car seat, and the crotch of my khaki shorts pressed against his jean-clad erection.
We kiss and fondle for miles, stroking each other, teasing each other. Letting the heat build and build until it’s harder and harder to resist the lure of taking this all the way, even though resisting is exactly what I intend to do.
I’d planned this morning to be about the heat and excitement of being in each other’s arms, of simply turning each other on. But like a teenager, I’m craving more. And when Damien’s hand snakes up my shirt and tugs my breast free of my bra, I arch my back and moan with pleasure.
“Am I going to get to third base, Nikki?”
“Absolutely not,” I say, even as I grind against him, my body on fire. “I’m not that kind of a girl.”
But I know I’m going to lose that battle—and that even in the losing, I’ll win. I can see the challenge all too clearly on his face. And if my game is not telling him where we’re going, then his game is fucking me in the back of the limo.
The truth is, where Damien is concerned, I have little resistance. And when he slides his hand up the leg of my shorts and strokes the soft skin at the juncture of my thigh and pelvis, I just about lose my mind.
“Take them off,” he demands, and though I know I should argue, I eagerly comply, stripping off the shorts and underwear as he unfastens his jeans and frees his cock. “On me,” he demands, and I’m so wet, so ready, that I don’t hesitate. I straddle him, then lower myself as he guides his cock inside me. I move slowly, teasing us both, but in the end neither of us can stand it, and when he grabs my hips and slams me down on him, I cry out in both relief and passion.
“That’s it, baby,” he says. “I want you to ride me.”
I reach up, using the roof of the limo to balance as I thrust down over and over on his cock.
At the same time, he teases my clit with his finger, while his mouth closes over my breast, his teeth grazing over my sensitive nipples.
The feeling is incredible—like a wire of passion from my breast to my core—and I find a rhythm, letting the sensation build and build. Harder and faster and wilder and deeper until I really can’t take it anymore. “Damien,” I cry out, exploding all around him, then collapsing forward to cling to his neck as he continues to fuck me, finally exploding inside me while his arms hold me tight, and then whispering, “Dear God, baby. I love you.”
We cling to each other for a few miles, and then clean up and get dressed again, and as I snuggle close, I have to admit that I’m glad these teenagers in the backseat went all the way, because I feel wonderful.
When we reach San Bernardino and turn off the highway toward the mountains, Damien says, “Hmmm,” and I turn to look at him, my eyes wide and innocent.
“Something to say, Mr. Stark?”
“Not a thing. I still have absolutely no clue where we’re going.”
“Uh-huh.” I laugh, because of course he knows. We’re heading to our house in Lake Arrowhead, and when we arrive at the Alpine-style chateau, Damien looks at me and grins.
I shrug. “It’s a getaway,” I say. “I cleared my calendar. And I had Rachel clear yours. We’re both free until Monday. And,” I add with a grin, “there are two little girls waiting inside who are going to be very glad to see their daddy.”
I’m right about the latter. As soon as we go through the door, Lara comes racing toward us calling “Baba, Mama,” and Damien scoops her into his arms as Bree passes me Anne.
“They were good on the drive?”
“Angels,” she assures me. She drove here in Damien’s Range Rover and is going back in the limo.
I cuddle Anne and remind Bree that Edward already knows the limo is at her disposal until we get back. “So do something fun. Have Edward take you and some friends on a
jaunt.”
“I don’t know,” she says, but her small grin makes me think she has something—or someone—in mind.
As soon as she’s out the door, I turn to Damien and Lara. “Ready to go back out?”
Damien’s brows raise, but I just shrug. “It’s time for breakfast. And I’m thinking I know a little girl who might like a waffle.”
The shopping area has a wonderful restaurant right on the lake with the best waffles in the world, in my opinion. Certainly good enough to satisfy my waffle-loving kid.
“Waffa! Waffa!” Lara squeals and starts clapping, getting so excited and squirmy that Damien has to put her down.
“Family weekend,” I say with a shrug. “I thought we could spend the morning having breakfast, then maybe take one of the boat tours on the lake. Lara would get a kick out of that. But if you’d rather, we can make waffles here.”
I’m a terrible cook, but Damien’s not. Which means that Damien would make the waffles. But if he wants to stay in, I’m game.
But he shakes his head and puts his arm around me, gazing down at Anne’s sweet face. “Nope,” he says. “A day out with my girls sounds like heaven. So long as I get a night in with my wife.”
“Absolutely, Mr. Stark,” I say, then kiss him lightly.
It takes a little time to load the Range Rover up with all the baby paraphernalia, but soon we’re on our way and unpacking it all over again in the parking lot for the Lake Arrowhead Village shops.
Damien pushes the double stroller, but only Anne is in it. Lara is skipping along, holding my hand and chattering on about everything.
When we reach the restaurant, the owner greets us warmly. “So good to see you again,” he says, then adds. “I haven’t yet met the children.” He smiles at Lara, who boldly holds her hand out to shake, then clucks over Anne.
Finally, he aims a wide smile at me before turning to Damien. “You have a lovely family, Mr. Stark.”
Damien squeezes my hand as he looks down at our girls. “Yes,” he agrees. “I do.”