When the tragic death of Inanna's parents leaves her utterly alone, meeting a handsome stranger in a bar awakens her darkest fantasies and changes her life forever.
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No one could have predicted the car accident that took the lives of Inanna's par...
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Paz was gone when I woke the next morning, languid and slightly sore. My muscles had that burn of working out after having skipped a few weeks. I'd slept deeply and after checking my house to find it locked behind him, with no note, and no way to contact him, I sat wrapped in my housecoat in my kitchen staring over my tea at the stack of bills on the table.
The bills were definitely something I'd have to deal with, but not yet. Instead, I lifted my laptop out from under several newspapers and turned it on. Bringing up my browser, I googled 'Paz Deabru'.
"Holy shit." I stared at the screen, my heart pounding as I read headlines from Forbes, BusinessWeek, Entrepreneur, Fortune, and others. The man who'd spent hours feasting between my thighs, eating me out again and again, without ever once asking for anything other than my response, was a goddamn billionaire. Some kind of venture capitalist from a small island in the Mediterranean between Turkey and Greece, with a British mother and Turkish father, both deceased. Speculation in some of the less reputable sites questioned where he'd made his money and whether he had ties to organized crime. He definitely had that aura of danger about him. I wouldn't want to be on his bad side. But his wicked sensuality? I wanted more of that.
I clicked on image after image of him with models and celebrities draped against him at social events, him driving a race car, standing on the steps of a private jet. Women flocked to him, and I understood the draw. Hell, I might have never picked up a man for a night before, but if he wanted a repeat, I was certainly game. Even if it was only ever sex, I'd never felt so alive. I'd had no idea sex could be like that and we hadn't even had intercourse.
Oh my god. If oral sex was that good with him, what would the rest be like? I shivered, my nipples peaking and sex clenching. Yes, I'd definitely say yes to anything he wanted to do to my body again. Damn.
I closed the laptop, arousal shimmering in my blood. He'd awakened something in me and I wanted more, but I had no outlet except my toys upstairs. Yet the satisfaction I'd obtained with them previously hadn't come close to what he'd roused in me. Would I be able to do better now that I knew?
Leaving my tea, I went upstairs. I'd been naked when I woke, my dress draped over the chair in the corner, and no idea where my thong had ended up. Striping off the housecoat left me naked again, and I opened my night table drawer to grab my vibrator. My body pulsed with need, moisture slick at my thighs when I slid the cool plastic against me and remembered his touch on my body. I teased my bud, squirming on my cold sheets and trying to find the sensations he'd evoked last night, but the release was a pale imitation, a mockery of his expertise.
"Damn it!"
I tossed the vibrator and kicked the bed, frustrated with my inability to replicate the powerful sensations. A ripping sound had me cursing again, and I sat up to investigate.
"Oh, that's just great," I groaned, peering at the torn sheet. "How the hell did I do that?"
Besides the large tear I'd created, three parallel slashes cut the fabric in several centimetre-long gashes. Grumbling, I stripped the blankets and sheets and discovered another set of slashes, then another, and another. An entire section of my sheet was shredded. There was no repairing it and I stuffed the sheet into the trash.
