The Secret Mistress

Wild, reckless and wicked intent blazed at her. He ignored her protest, picked her up, sat her bare bottom on the desk, lifted one of her legs, propped her foot against his thigh and proceeded to undo her bootlace. Shontelle lost track of what she should be doing. Luis was undressing her with ruthless efficiency. His powerfully muscled thigh was bent towards her, reminding her of how magnificently perfect his physique was. But shouldn’t she stop this...this taking? If she moved her foot up...

“Shontelle...” Alan bellowed in her ear. “...If this is the bargain he’s struck with you...”

“Alan, I’ve done your business,” she cut in, frantic to be free of the argument. “This is mine and Luis’ business and it’s completely personal. Personal! Got that?” she snapped.

Her shoe and sock were off. Luis was lifting her other leg.

“Are you off your brain? Luis will chew you up and spit you out again,” Alan thundered at her.

Once both her feet were free, he would remove her clothes and...there was no time for appeasing Alan. Couldn’t be done anyway. Just watching Luis’ deft, ruthless movements, she was torn between excitement and fear, yet swamping both feelings was a compelling need to know all she wanted to know.

“Let him do it then!” she cried recklessly.

“Is he holding the deal with the bus over you?” Anxious now...

Better for her to sound sane...though her trousers and underpants were being tugged down her calves, over her ankles. She struggled for breath, struggled for some final words.

“Do me a favour, Alan, and pack my bags so they’re ready to go. I’ll come back when the curfew lifts in the morning.”

Luis stepped in between her legs, his eyes glittering at her, exultant, revelling in seizing the moment, the night, her, everything...making it his.

“Shontelle, for God’s sake! Will you...”

Luis seized the telephone. “Stay out of this, Alan!” he commanded. “Your sister and I have much to work through and it’s very, very personal.”

There was no argument with Luis. He simply didn’t allow it, cutting the connection by slamming the receiver down. Without so much as a pause, he grabbed the bottom of her T-shirt and hauled it off her. Shontelle’s arms were still coming down as his hands whipped around her back to unclip her bra. No fumbling. Snap, and her last piece of clothing dangled loose and was swiftly consigned to the pile on the floor.

She was completely naked, dazed by the speed of its happening and the total lack of any sensuality accompanying the stripping of clothes. She stared at Luis’ face and saw a mask of hard pride...dark, dark Angel.

He gave her no time to think, speak, question. He gripped her rib cage, hoisted her off the desk and carrying her virtually at arm’s length, he strode through the suite to the bedroom. Impossible for Shontelle to find purchase for her arms or legs. They flapped uselessly. She was so stunned at being held like some distasteful object, any sense of coordination was utterly lost. He tossed her on the bed and she bounced into an abandoned sprawl.

“That’s where I want you,” he said, his voice harsh with the effort expended. He lifted his shoulders back, holding an imperious, superior stance by the bed. “Where you should be...” he went on with savagely mocking emphasis, “...on the playing ground you use so well.”

Scathing words, scathing eyes as they travelled slowly over her. They spurred Shontelle into a clear recognition of his fierce drive to pay her back for having regarded him as no more than a good lay. Even lower than that...a transient lay who’d worn out his novelty value. The Latin lover tag had remained a burr under his skin.

But deeper than that...was she still under his skin?

He was holding control, determined on keeping the upper hand, but how much feeling for her lay behind his armoured pride? If she could break through...

She moved sinuously, provocatively, arranging herself more comfortably on the bed, looping her hair over one shoulder so it streamed across her breasts. “You were quite a masterful player yourself, Luis,” she said with a reminiscent smile, idly moving a tress of hair back and forth over one of her nipples. “A pity you seem to have lost your touch.” She deliberately ran her gaze over his body as she added, “Brute strength is rather a sad step down.”

A mirthless laugh scraped from his throat. “In your search for variety, I’m sure a bit of rough has featured somewhere.” His eyes glittered challengingly at her as he stripped off his shirt. “I thought it might give you a kick since you grew bored with my kind of lovemaking.”

“I was never bored with you,” she said truthfully. “I thought what we shared was very special.”

A flash of derision. “So you left before it got spoiled.”

It was spoiled before she left. “The writing was on the wall, Luis,” she said quietly, remembering how naive she’d been not to even see it until it was pointed out to her. “I got out before it fell on top of me.”

“What writing?” he jeered, bending to remove his shoes and socks, his body language clearly contemptuous of any excuse she might offer.

“Your real life in Buenos Aires,” Shontelle said, testing for some flash of guilt from him for what he’d kept hidden.

There was no sharp glance at her. He finished taking off his footwear and when he straightened up, his dark eyes gloated over her with unmistakably sexual intent...such burning intent Shontelle squirmed inside.

“I see,” he drawled. “Our romantic idyll on the Amazon was over. I had work to do in Buenos Aires so you did not get my full attention there. Rest assured you have it tonight, Shontelle.”

He proceeded to unfasten his trousers.

“Why?” she shot at him, frustrated at being relegated to a sexual object. Though that might be all he’d ever thought of her. The urge to sting him as she was stung slid straight off her tongue. “Your other women not delivering any spice, Luis? You need a taste of me to supplement your diet?”

It stung him all right. His mouth thinned for a moment and there was a flare of anger in his eyes, giving her a glimpse of a banked inner rage that promised no quarter given tonight.

“You think you’re special, Shontelle?” He left the lilt of mockery hanging while he finished undressing. Then stark naked, powerfully naked, aggressively naked, he gave her a smile that curled with vengeful satisfaction. “Well, yes you are,” he drawled. “A rich, erotic indulgence...so special I think I should make a banquet of you.”

And spit me out in the morning.

Shontelle’s stomach was suddenly a hollow pit. All the cards looked black in this game—clubs and spades—no hearts, no diamonds. Even so, she could not give up all hope. Not yet.

“Taking a risk, aren’t you?” she slung back at him. “People get addicted to rich, erotic indulgences.”

He laughed, and despite its being dark amusement, his face was suddenly transformed into the lighter, more lovable Luis she had known, and Shontelle’s heart tripped over itself. Her body wantonly buzzed with anticipation as he prowled onto the bed, looming over her, sweeping her hair away from her breasts, raking it into a fan around her head, his eyes simmering with lustful heat.

“A substance has to be readily available for one to become addicted,” he murmured, sipping seductively at her lips. “I’ll just take all I can get of it tonight.”

Readily available... the phrase echoed in Shontelle’s ears as Luis fully engaged her mouth with his in a long, devouring kiss, stirring her hunger for him, a hunger that had been starved for two miserable, empty years. If she’d stayed, maybe he would have defied his heritage to keep her. Foolish pride... walking out on him without confronting him with what she’d been told, what he’d withheld. An open choice would have been better, cleaner.

Maybe with this second chance...

She raked her fingers through his hair, revelling in the feel of it, a huge surge of possessiveness welling through her. This man was hers, had to be. There was no other like him. And he had to feel the same about her. It had to be mutual, this passionate craving.

Then suddenly her hands were snatched away, slammed onto the bed and pinned above her head as he levered himself up. “It’s my night, Shontelle.”

She looked into eyes seething with dark turbulence.

“And the playing will be all mine.”

He bent and licked her lips as though collecting the lingering evidence of her response to his kiss, then trailed his mouth slowly down to the pulse at the base of her throat, pausing there to apply a heated pressure that kicked her heart into wilder pumping.