Dirty Diana by January James

Chapter Eight

Itook one last look at his beautifully chiseled face before he returned the drape to his cheeks. He lifted me up and placed me gently on the sofa, then he got to his feet, pulled up his pants and walked, casually, to the door. For a moment I really felt as though we were in a hotel and our room service had just arrived. But when the door opened and I heard the voice at the other side, I was reminded, starkly, of where I was.

“Sir,” came a familiar woman’s voice. I turned to look, as discreetly as I could, knowing that I was lit up in the glow of the table lamp and she was out in the corridor, bathed in darkness.

“Here’s your order.” I saw a tray pass hands and swallowed my surprise. I’d half-expected whoever it was to walk into the room, place the tray on the desk and wait for their tip, but this, I remembered again, wasn’t a hotel. It was far from being a hotel. While rooms could apparently be ‘rented’ for a whole evening, there were no other similarities whatsoever. In a hotel, I wouldn’t have to cover my face in a bid not to be recognized; in a hotel, I would be free to come and go with one person as many times as I liked; in a hotel I could kiss whomever I wanted without it being frowned upon (to an extent) and I could shout my name from the roof terrace with no repercussions.

I narrowed my eyes in an attempt to identify the woman.

“Thanks,” he answered. “You didn’t need to bring these up yourself. Where’s Arnaud?”

“It’s nothing,” the voice replied, and I saw a hand wave away the remark. “Anyways, I need to update you on Myles.”

“What about him?” His voice took on a different tone; not a friendly one.

“He’s demanding a refund for the whole year.”

“No,” he clipped. “His behavior was unacceptable. He had a responsibility—” his voice lowered. “We could have lost the member.”

“Of course, I will reiterate the terms of his membership contract to him. He knows that as one of the Elite, he has certain responsibilities.”

“He isn’t staying, Sienna. This isn’t a negotiation.” His voice betrayed an unambiguous anger, and I froze at the mention of my recruiter’s name. “He needs to know he cannot treat a lady that way and get to keep his membership privileges.”

“But, sir, everyone else agrees his behavior wasn’t terrible…”

“I don’t care what everyone else thinks,” he growled. “I watched the fucking tape. He was selfish and rough. It is no way to introduce someone to the services we offer.”

I heard Sienna sigh in resignation. “So, that’s why you booked the suite for the whole night? Damage limitation?”

His voice lowered further and I craned my neck to listen.

“No, not damage limitation. Human decency.”

“Sir, no-one books a suite for the whole night. Even the most decent of our humans.”

There was a beat of silence before he spoke again and his words were unmistakable.

“They. Are. Not. Me.”

* * *

The door closedand he returned carrying the nachos. He walked straight across the room towards me and placed them in my lap, bringing his lips to mine in a slow, delicious kiss. His tongue, already familiar with my own, curled and teased my lips until, reluctantly, I pulled away.

“Is everything ok?” I asked.

“Everything’s fine,” he said, settling next to me on the sofa and grabbing a handful of nachos. “Just a difference of professional opinion. Nothing for you to worry about. All I want you to worry about is how much you can enjoy this evening.”

“That’s not going to be too difficult,” I mumbled, tucking into the nachos with as much delicacy and femininity as I could muster. “I’m having a pretty good time already.” I glanced sideways at him and saw him smiling as he propped his arm against the sofa, resting his head as he watched me.

“That’s good. Me too.”

I licked a dribble of tomato sauce from my chin, self-consciously and noticed him shift his hips slightly.

“Do you have something more comfortable you’d like to change into? I’m afraid I’m fresh out of bibs so I have nothing to catch the sauce from staining your dress.”

I looked up and just managed to stifle a small laugh.

“Now you’re concerned about staining my dress?”

“Touché,” he grinned. “But seriously. You look stunning in that outfit but we’re going to be here all night. I want to know what you’re like when you’re Netflix-and-chilling.”

I licked another dribble of errant sauce from my bottom lip and faced him. “You want to see me slobbing out in my pjs?”

“If that’s what you kids are calling it these days, yes.”

“What about you? Do you have pajamas?”

“Yeah, sure,” he shrugged. “Pants, anyway. I get too hot in a top.”

I almost choked on my cheese. The thought of seeing this man topless hadn’t occurred to me until that point. And now it was all I could think about.

“Let’s change,” I said, with more urgency than I intended.

It was his turn to laugh as he took the bowl from my lap, his fingers brushing the cotton just covering my thigh, sending shockwaves up into my stomach, and placed it on the table.

“Are you not eating?”

“I ate at the office,” he said, and I paused, involuntarily. He worked in an office. A piece of information I latched onto like a greedy puppy.

“Here?” I asked, sounding as casual as I could.

“No. The City.” He got to his feet and held out his hands. I took them and allowed him to pull me to my feet, bringing me flush to his chest; a chest I was about to see naked, which sent my appetite flying in the opposite direction. “And that’s all you’re getting, lady,” he smiled, knowing I was pushing my luck.

“I hope not,” I said, dragging my eyes down to his zipper. “Otherwise I’ll be asking for a refund.”

“I’ll give you more than a refund,” he laughed and pushed me lightly towards the bathroom. “I’ll get your bag.”

I pattered in my stocking-clad feet into the bathroom and switched on the light. It was set to be dim at best and barely flickering at worst. I was going to need a few hours to acclimatize to sunlight after this night was out. I leaned back against the vanity unit and looked around. No expense had been spared. The shower was plated gold, as were the ‘his and hers’ faucets and towel rails. A giant rainforest shower hung from the ceiling, and a large oval bathtub stood at the far end of the room next to yet another floor-to-ceiling window. The whole place had been designed for sex and decadence, hence the name I realized, again.

I didn’t need to look up to know he was in the room with me; his presence drew the atmosphere to him and I physically felt the rush of air against my skin. I pretended to be distracted by the view as he placed the bag on the unit behind me, gliding his forearm across my shoulder.

“Do you mind if I change in here with you?” He stood in front of me, waiting on my answer.

My voice escaped me so I simply shook my head in reply.

His eyes continued to burrow into me and again I felt at a loss as to how to play this game. The sex should have relaxed me, the orgasm from his tongue before the sex should have relaxed me. I shouldn’t still be a bag of nerves around this man, but the way he stood over me, staring, as though waiting for me to make some sort of move, put me more on edge than I’d ever felt in my life.

I coughed and turned away to retrieve my pajamas from my bag. I thanked God I’d treated myself, not only to the Hérve Léger dress and the Lejaby underwear I’d worn the first night I came to the club, but to a pair of Agent Provocateur pajamas too—online of course, I would never have been able to show my face in the actual shop.

I suddenly needed to look amazing for this man. Despite the fact he seemed to share the same shock of a chemical attraction after only an hour of meeting and he’d specifically requested my company this evening, and despite the fact he was looking at me as though he wanted to eat me alive, I still felt a relentless need to impress him, to make him want me.

I clutched the eye-wateringly expensive fabric to my chest, expecting him to move back and allow me space, but he didn’t. My heart rose slowly up to my throat and lodged itself there, pounding uncomfortably. His eyes dropped to the rose-colored fabric and, finally, as though realizing where he was and what I was trying to do, he stepped backwards, training his eyes on my face again as he did.

I reached a hand behind my back in an attempt to lower the zipper, but I was too flustered; it was too hard, holding the pajamas so tightly under the scrutinizing gaze of this insanely beautiful man.

“Let me help,” he said, his voice dry. He placed his hands on my shoulders and turned me to face the vanity unit. I looked back at us both in the mirror. The sight of him and me, two complete strangers wearing masks, undressing together in a bathroom, struck me like a bolt of lightning.

“What is this?” I whispered. “What are we doing?”

“What do you mean?” he answered, finding the zipper and tugging it along the curve of my spine.

“I don’t know who you are. You could be anyone.”

He stopped pulling the zipper and stared at my reflection in the mirror.

“We can stop anytime you want,” he said, a slight tremor invading the smoothness of his voice.

I looked into his eyes, knowing my problem was the exact opposite. I didn’t want to stop; I never wanted to stop. I wanted to feel this way forever—wanted, needed, lusted after, by this man.

“I don’t want to stop,” I whispered, noticing his shoulders fall.

“Good,” he said, resuming the downward journey of the zipper, revealing my lower back to him. “Neither do I.”

“Why did you want to spend tonight with me?” I forced out.

He took a deep breath and focused intently on the circles his fingers were now tracing on the skin above my sitting bone. He moved as though he were about to speak but then stopped again, and so did his fingers. Then he looked boldly at my reflection.

“Too personal,” he said, simply.

I was too stunned to ask anything else, so I just watched as he gently tugged the dress over my shoulders and let it slide to the floor.

“I think I might need more than that,” I whispered, eventually.

He didn’t reply. Instead, he turned me around and lifted me to sit on the vanity unit, parting my legs and nestling himself between them. He bent his head down, bringing his lips to within an inch of my face. His eyes were slightly pained. I couldn’t tell if he was as frustrated by the rules as I was, or if he was simply enjoying the tension. I couldn’t bear the close proximity so I lifted my chin, and brushed his lips with mine.

“I didn’t think we were allowed to do this,” I whispered. I moved my lips from side to side, brushing them along his, until I felt his hands clasp me firmly around the head.

“We strongly advise against it,” he said, his lips against mine.

“Why?” I demanded, softly.

“You know why,” he silenced me then, by closing in on me and easing his tongue between my teeth, taking over my mouth completely. With every swipe of his tongue across mine, I melted a little more. Had I known foreplay could be this good, I would never have left it alone for four years. The question I’d uttered only minutes ago had escaped my mind, which had been his precise intention. He pulled away and stood back a step.

“Stockings,” he muttered, licking his lips; lips that were pink and plump from teasing mine. I suddenly became conscious of my exposed thighs and I wriggled uncomfortably.

“Do you mind if I take them off with my teeth?”

“I’m sorry?” I stifled a giggle.

“I just… always wanted to take stockings off a beautiful woman with my teeth.”

“You can if you take your clothes off first,” I replied. Two could play at that game. I didn’t know how the hell to play but I was giving it my best shot.

Without hesitation, he pushed his pants down his legs and stepped out of them, leaving me no time to gasp at the sight of his molded thighs in the flesh. Then he ripped his shirt, buttons popping everywhere, and yanked it over his arms, smiling timidly at me.

“I can’t believe you just did that,” I laughed. “I thought men only did that in books.”

“What kind of books do you read?” He said, grinning, as though he’d passed some sort of test.

“Well, actually, I don’t have time to read books but if I did, they’d probably be quite filthy.”

“Like porn?” He asked, placing his hands on the lace tops of my stockings.

“No, not porn! Contemporary romance.” I was loving the fact we could banter like this while he was making sexual moves on me.

“Right. Sure.” He dismissed my argument and leaned in for another slow kiss. This time he probed deeper, his tongue becoming hungry, coupled with his thumbs working their way beneath the lace. I gasped into his mouth. His hands were nowhere near my center but I was already throbbing. Again.

He pulled back, somewhat reluctantly, and bent at the knees, bringing his head towards my right thigh. His drape had unleashed some of his hair and it was now tickling my leg. I clamped a hand over my mouth to stop an adolescent giggle escaping my throat. But as soon as I felt his breath, I needn’t have worried; I was rendered speechless. He clasped the lace in his teeth and dragged it wretchedly down my thigh, following it with his fingers. I dropped my head backwards, feeling every small inch of flesh catch fire as his teeth grazed across it. I felt the stocking slip off the edge of my toes and he repeated the movement on the other leg. By the time he stood and brought my head forward to look into my eyes, I was panting with lust.

“Fuck…” he said, realizing what a state I was in. He pushed his boxers over his hips and in one swift movement, pulled me towards him, pushed my hastily pulled-on underwear to one side and drove himself into me. We both cried out in relief. All the man had done was remove my stockings and I was melting all over him. It had to be the darkness. It had to be the drapes. It had to be the dreaded rules. I’d never been this hot for anyone, ever. He buried himself into me and dropped his head to my shoulder. His breath was heavy and labored, as though he’d climbed a mountain to get here.

“What the fuck…?” He growled into my chest. “What are you doing to me?”

“I could say the same,” I panted, feeling him deep and thick inside me. He let me mold myself around him and then he inched himself in and out slowly, while he sucked on the skin between my neck and my shoulder. I was suddenly aware we were not using protection and I could feel every thick vein and every delicious ridge.

“Condom…” I just about managed. “Is it too late?”

He lifted his eyes to mine.

“Shit.” He pulled out of me completely and fumbled in one of the drawers below, pulling out a shiny packet. My heart sank a little as he pulled on the sheath but any sense of disappointment subsided when he filled me again. It was the right thing to do.

“God, you feel so good,” he murmured, as he moved with an agonizingly measured rhythm.

“So do you,” I breathed out.

“Is this ok? This position?” He said, searching my eyes for approval.

“It’s amazing,” I gasped. I didn’t want to speak; I just wanted to savor the feeling of him stroking my insides, caressing every sensitive spot within me, stirring me to a peak. He pressed his lips to mine and I moaned into them, letting go.

His fingers dug into my buttocks and I was lifted above the unit. My legs wrapped instinctively around his waist and I was carried into the shower cubicle and held up against the glass wall. I was brought down more heavily onto him and my breath rushed out as I gripped his back. He turned the handle on the shower and we were suddenly covered by a downpour of water.

“I always shower before bed,” he said, his lips never leaving mine. We were both completely naked except for the drapes over our faces. I dropped my head back to see another camera facing the cubicle—there would be no removing our drapes in the bathroom. I pushed my fingers up into his now-drenched hair and tugged it as he thrust into me, pounding my back against the glass. He was filling me completely and pushing as far as he could go. Our skin was soaked and I had to renew the grip of my legs to stop from slipping.

“Jesus, I’m close,” he panted, as he grazed the spot inside me that burned with need.

“Me too,” I breathed through the sheet of water into his lips. His fingers dug further into my skin and I felt the delicious formation of small purple indentations. Our soaked drapes clung to our skin and my hair hung in wet trails down my back. He moved his lips to my jawline and teethed his way along to my ear then he breathed into it, sending prickles of electricity all the way down my spine. I gasped and released a small cry. I couldn’t hold it in. Then he stopped moving. The pounding of the water from the showerhead became more pronounced, along with my breath which came in short, sharp gasps. I was on the cusp, about to fall.

“Fuck,” he whispered. “I don’t want it to end.”

“We’ve got all night,” I rasped.

“Mmmm,” he moaned into my ear and thrust again, taking my climax right back to its edge. I gripped his back, digging my nails into his shoulder blades, and felt him drive forcefully into me. The orgasm balled in the pit of my stomach and I lost all sense of where I was. The heat rolled outwards from my core to the surface of my skin and I shook violently in his hands, a small, animalistic cry leaving my throat.

“Jeeez,” he hissed, and he started pulsing against me, hard and sharp, then softer and more mellow, until he gradually stopped, gripping me in place.

It took me at least a full minute to catch my breath and then he released me slowly to the shower floor. He shifted to the side to stop the water beating directly onto me, and wiped his thumb across my lip, shaking his head.

“What is it?” I asked, my voice silky and sated.

There was a long pause before he spoke. “Nothing.”

He smiled and led me back out of the shower, enveloping me in a giant, fluffy bath sheet and planting a small kiss on the end of my silk-covered nose.

After we dried off and dressed in our slobbing-out clothes, I followed his smooth, bare back out of the bathroom and watched him pick up the nachos, champagne and glasses and make his way to the bed. Setting everything down on a bedside table, he moved back against the pillows and patted the comforter beside him. I crawled up and nestled in the crook of his arm, feeling instantly warm and safe. His large body seemed to wrap around me like a blanket and I tried to imprint every single sensation onto my brain. I didn’t know if I’d ever have this again with another man—this comfort, this ease, this constant low hum of lust. He tucked one hand into the waistband of my pajama pants and picked up another remote control with the other.

“We’re watching a film,” he stated, in a firm, business-like voice that sent a shiver down my spine. I always used to have a thing for authoritative men—until the ones in my life started to make it miserable. His powerful tone brought out feelings in me I thought I’d buried not long after Phoenix Music had slid into the red. I snuggled further into the pit of his arm.

“Any preferences?”

I shook my head coyly against his ribcage. “Anything except horror.”

I felt him smile above me and watched as he clicked through the selections.

“How about Love Actually?”

I leaned forward to show the exact grimace on my face. “Are you serious?”

He laughed. “I just thought we could maybe point out the different places in London we’ve been to. Or there’s Notting Hill.”

“The only place you see in Notting Hill is Notting Hill,” I smiled, settling back into his warmth.

“Ok, so how about London Has Fallen?”

“Ok!” I replied. “Much better.”

“Is that because you like action movies, or because you like Gerard Butler?”

I grinned. “Both…”

“Gerry. Should’ve known.” I felt his head shake.

I stayed put in the crook of his arm. “Gerry? Do you know him?”

“I did for a while, yeah.”

I tried to sound unimpressed by this quite impressive revelation. “How come?”

“Just work,” he replied, reaching a hand up to stroke my long hair behind his arm.

“So, you’re what... in showbiz?” My heartbeat sped up a notch. I didn’t expect an answer.

“I’m in whatever business I’m needed to be in,” he replied, cryptically.

“That makes you sound like a hooker,” I replied, before sitting bolt upright and looking back into his eyes. “You’re not, are you? I mean, you’re very good at… this.”

He burst out laughing at that and pushed me back against the pillows, finding my ticklish spot again and digging into it for all he was worth. When he finally let me up for air, I’d clean forgotten what we’d been talking about.

“I like that you think I’m good at this,” he said, as we entwined ourselves again.

“Why? You didn’t think you were?”

“Well, I just… I know I’m on the board here, but, I’ve very rarely utilized it’s… services. I don’t make a habit of sleeping with many people. I don’t have time, to be honest.”

I sat very still, aware that in order to best process this latest information, I’d stopped breathing.

“So,” he continued. “I’ve never had any idea whether I’m any good or not.”

“Well,” I said, my voice cracking, but working at least, “you are. Very good, I mean. Too good, really.”

His chest stilled. “What do you mean by that?”

“Well,” I struggled to find the right words. “This is the kind of night a girl likes a lot of. I mean, like, more than once.”

A thin stream of breath rolled out through his lips but he didn’t answer straight away. We turned our attention to the movie, but my focus was nowhere near on it. I was acutely aware I’d just voiced the cardinal sin—wanting to encounter the same member more than once, and he part-owned this place. He had actually made those stupid damn rules.

Then he took a deep breath and spoke, like a robot.

“That means we’ve done our job well. We want all our guests to have a great experience. It’s a bonus for me that I’m the one who’s been able to deliver it.”

And a little piece of my heart fell away.

* * *

I squintedas my eyes adjusted to the early morning sunlight. It was the middle of summer in Manhattan, and already swelteringly hot and humid. At least it took my mind off the man I was walking away from. Everything seemed to ache—my chest, my torso, my groin… my heart. It had taken every ounce of willpower to walk away from the room we’d just spent twelve hours laughing and fucking in, leaving him standing in the doorway, filling it with an emotion I couldn’t decipher through my racing heart.

We’d watched the entire movie in silence, me rigid to the core, him as still and remote as the piece of plastic clasped in his hand. Towards the end of the movie, the sheer energy it had taken for me to stay emotionally robust had exhausted me and I fell asleep against his shoulder. I woke up an hour later to the sensation of his lips on my stomach and his fingers in my hair.

I woke up with a fresh resolve. I had only six hours left with this man; I was going to damn well enjoy every single one.

The sex had been mind-blowing; the foreplay even more so. I learned more about what turned me on in that one night than in the entire four years I was at University and the subsequent four years in New York—supposedly the sexiest city in the world. Between and during the insanely intimate sex, we’d talked and giggled, about everything and nothing. I’d come away, as he’d planned all along, knowing very little about him, other than the fact he worked in an office, in no industry in particular, and he was once mates with Gerard Butler. Everything else I knew was purely physical. I knew what turned him on; I knew what position made him climax within seconds; I knew every facet of his lips and mouth; I knew the taste of his skin. It felt wrong that I knew very little else, but there was no point worrying about that now. It was over. It would all be a vivid and treasured memory I would most certainly resurrect every single night for the rest of my life.

I focused on walking along the burning sidewalk towards the nearest station and attempted to recall my schedule for the day. I tried to ignore the very real burning sensation that had taken up residence in my ribcage, and the acidic taste at the back of my throat suggesting I might throw up at any moment. I focused on the day ahead. I would get through it all by immersing myself in work, I’d already decided.

It wouldn’t be a bad thing. I was determined to keep this new momentum going. Cherry Tatum would no longer run rings around me. My other acts would see exactly how I dealt with egotistical behavior. The suits would see a side of me they would damn well respect, for once.

My first task was to overhaul the budgets. We were going back to basics. We were going to beg, borrow and steal airplay; we were going to pursue press coverage with integrity, not with personal antics; we were going to show the fucking music industry exactly why indie acts were so valuable. I remembered my original mission—one that had seeped away in the midst of pressure to hit numbers and make headlines. It was to offer the music-buying public something other than an identikit, pre-packaged, artificial artist. We were going to bring good music back.

Every time my thoughts tried to stray to the last time I felt his lips on mine, the feeling of my fingers curled in his, my climax screaming inside the sound-proofed room, I dragged them back to my work and the day ahead. I couldn’t keep re-living our last conversation. He’d told me goodbye. His lips punctuated every syllable but his eyes denied every word. He couldn’t even look at me. Even when I hesitated, when I placed my hands on the back of his head and forced him to face me, his eyes would still not focus. Instead, he wrapped his arms around me, squeezed me a little too hard, and gave me a long, lingering, last kiss on the lips. Then he turned me around and lightly pushed me through the door. That had been my answer; the only conclusion I could draw. The date was over and it was time for me to leave. No doubt he had business to attend to.

There had been no indication he wanted more than this, other than the fact he wouldn’t let me out of his sight for the last hour and he insisted on pleasuring me even when I’d finally run out of steam and could barely take any more. Like he’d said, the club had done its job well. Too fucking well. When I finally came down from the impossible high I was feeling, having had the best night of my life, I would realize that the club had done itself out of a member. My experience with him had effectively ruined any experience I could have with anyone else.

And that was if the club would have me back. I’d broken almost every rule in one night. Not only had we kissed, repeatedly, but we had shown our whole faces to each other, and he knew my name was Diana. My stomach thudded to the ground for the hundredth time that morning as I realized I’d had the best fun, the best sex and the most amazing night with a man I fancied more than anyone I’d ever met, and I didn’t even know his name.