Filthy Rich Read online

  Finally dropping his hand, he leaned in to kiss her while he pulled his pants and boxers down and let them fall to the floor.

  When he broke the kiss she said, “Do you want to move this into the bedroom?”

  “Soon, Cara. Soon.” When she nodded, silent, he stripped off his shirt and tie, then, after grabbing a condom from his wallet, sheathed himself with it. Then he put his arms around her and lifted her off the counter with her legs wrapped around his back. He carried her over to where the wall was solid, and in one motion he slammed her back against it and entered her. She was so wet that he slid all the way in. Cara cried out again and he felt the scrape of her fingernails down his back. He gripped her ass tightly with both hands and began thrusting, pumping in and out of her as she sat suspended above the floor.

  God, this was good.

  “I love being inside you, Cara,” he whispered.

  She held on to him tightly and kissed and licked his bottom lip in response, sucking it in and running her tongue along it as she held it in her teeth. He moaned, and folded his arms underneath her ass and slipped her up so that his cock was barely inside of her and her breasts were where he could get to them with his mouth. He sucked on her nipples, thrusting his hips harder, but given their position he could only fit about half of his cock inside her. He needed more, so he reluctantly pulled back from her breasts and let her body slide down so that he could once more press his full length inside her. While he kissed her, she moaned and he could feel the vibrations of it against his cheek.

  He had only intended to play with her in the kitchen, get her worked up a little bit, but he couldn’t make himself stop.

  “What are you doing to me?” he growled, knowing there was no answer.

  “Branden,” she moaned. “You. It’s…it’s you.”

  With each stroke, a fire in the pit of his stomach grew hot, and as he drew closer to climax, Cara thrust her hips into him harder and sucked his tongue into her mouth. He felt that familiar pulse and surge of blood that signaled he was ready, and when his body began to shake it seemed to trigger something in hers. She shook with him and pulled her mouth from his, crying out as another orgasm tore through her. Seconds later he groaned loudly while he experienced his own. When they both stopped shaking, he lowered her slowly to the floor and kissed her softly on the lips.

  And had to ask himself, what the hell just happened?

  Chapter Eighteen

  Cara finally had her tea, not that she was complaining. Tingles from their last encounter still rushed over her, but she forced herself to focus on the here and now. After they’d both climaxed, they’d shakily dressed again, and she’d poured herself a cup of tea and Branden a Scotch and soda. Now she was seated on the couch in his living room, her feet in his lap and a teacup cradled in her hands. She couldn’t help thinking how nice the evening had been and how “domestic” it had felt.

  How lovely it would be if every night could be like this one.

  And that thought alone worried her immensely.

  Cara had never really been interested in a man enough to think about living with him. And she wasn’t kidding herself now. Whatever was happening with Branden was a temporary thing that would eventually burn itself out, probably as soon as they figured out what was going on and who was messing with them. Because a man like Branden was way out of her league. She needed to keep her emotions in check—because if she didn’t, she’d get hurt. And badly. She’d never experienced heartbreak, but she’d held Iris’s hands plenty of times as her friend had cried over boyfriends who’d moved on. But even as she gave herself mental warnings, a part of her wondered if maybe it was already too late.

  Because these feelings she was having—missing Branden’s scent when she hadn’t seen him for several hours, experiencing the rush of tingles in her belly when she remembered the sensation of his penis entering her, the way his eyes lit up when he spoke of his sisters…all these feelings were real. And deep. And maybe even more than just a crush.

  “What are you thinking about?” Branden asked her.

  She glanced at him. She couldn’t tell him the truth…that she was wondering if she was falling in love with him, but lying wasn’t an option. Stick with the truth, even though it might just be a partial truth. “I was just thinking that this is nice, sitting here with you.”

  “It is nice,” he said. “So you’re not worrying about how that illegal email ended up coming from your email address?”

  She made a face. “I’ll have to worry about it sooner or later, but I don’t want to think about it tonight.”

  Wiggling his eyebrows he said, “Then maybe we should come up with an activity to keep your mind and body occupied.”

  He’d already fulfilled plenty of her fantasies in the kitchen. Playing dumb, she said, “Like club dancing?”

  “You like to go dancing?”

  “It’s a good stress reliever. I just dance like nobody’s watching.”

  “Let’s go then,” he said, sitting up suddenly and spilling her feet from his lap.

  “What, now?”

  “Why not? It’s Friday night, and we live in the city that never sleeps. Plus, I have a cool sports car you haven’t even ridden in yet…”

  Cara grinned. “It does sound like fun.”

  “Did you bring dancing clothes with you when you packed?”

  “I threw a dress or two into my suitcase. Just in case.”

  “Perfect. How long do you need to get ready?”

  Not long, it turned out. She picked out a black cocktail dress with a layer of sky-blue lace that just peeked out around the neckline and then again along the hem that ended just above her knees. She had a pair of four-inch heels that matched the lace and a bag that would work well.

  She brushed out her hair, leaving it loose around her shoulders, and applied a light layer of foundation and powder before lining her eyes with a soft blue crayon. Her final touch was a layer of mascara and a shiny pink lip gloss. Satisfied, she went to find Branden. As she passed the large walk-in closet that was bigger than most people’s apartments, she heard a long, low wolf whistle. She turned and saw him standing there in the doorway of the closet.

  “Damn, you look hot,” he said.

  “Thank you. You look pretty hot yourself.” He had on a soft-looking pair of black trousers and a short-sleeved blue silk button-down. His hair was stylishly mussed and Cara thought he looked so good that she might reconsider and change her mind about going out.

  Branden called the valet and when they got downstairs, the blue Maserati with the racing stripes was waiting for them. The valet left it running and held open Cara’s door. Cara slid inside.

  Immediately, she realized what the phrase “soft as butter” was referring to. She’d never seen or felt anything like it. The dash was filled with all the latest buttons and gadgets. It was like being in the Batmobile. She looked at Branden and thought, I’ll bet he and Batman have never been seen in a room at the same time. Then she laughed at herself. She suddenly realized that in spite of all the chaos that had invaded her life lately, she was happy.

  Branden drove carefully and obeyed all the speed laws, but just the sound of the car and the vibration of its powerful motor sent little tingles of pleasure through her body. Only a few minutes passed before they arrived at their destination. It was a private club on the Street. Cara had heard all about it from executives at D&M, but she’d never been there. It was one of those clubs where you had to pay a monthly fee to even be allowed in for a drink.

  When they walked inside, the large airy room had bright red carpeting and a cherrywood bar with an etched gold mirror behind it. Tall stools with soft, puffy seats surrounded the bar, and they all looked to be filled with men in suits. The big, soft-looking booths were red and black and there were several large-screen televisions hanging around the room. One of them was playing a baseball game with no sound, and the other two were showing music videos. The sound was off on those as well and soft music was playing o
verhead.

  Branden led her through that room and into the next, where there was a large stage and people were bustling around like they were getting ready for a show. Several of them smiled and said, “Hi, Mr. Duke,” as if he was a celebrity or owned the club.

  Maybe he does, Cara thought.

  The next room was the nightclub. The volume of the music was much louder due to the live band playing in the corner on an elevated black stage. The rest of the room was decorated in red and black like the bar. The wood dance floor was black and shiny and there were already quite a few people on it. The lighting was soft and high-top tables surrounded the dance floor. Branden took her hand and led her to one near the dance floor that was marked with a Reserved sign.

  “This is your table?” Cara asked him.

  “Yes, but I don’t use it often.”

  She raised an eyebrow, doubting that was true considering the pictures she’d seen with various model-types hanging on his arm. She looked over and saw people coming in through a door on the side of the room that was flanked by bouncers who were checking IDs. She hadn’t thought about it, but people had barely glanced at her when she and Branden had come in the other way.

  “Did we come in the back way or the front?” Cara asked.

  “We came in the private entrance. It’s a perk of my membership,” he told her with a grin.

  The cocktail waitress came over and took their order.

  When she was gone, Branden surprised her by saying, “You are so pretty.”

  “Thank you,” she said.

  He had his eyes locked on hers again. Sometimes just the way he looked at her made her panties wet. Right now? Mission accomplished.

  The band started playing dubstep. She was wiggling her legs and feet to the music when Branden stood and held out his hand to help her down off the high stool. “Shall we?”

  He was being such a gentleman tonight. Not that he was ever rude—his manners were impeccable—but something just seemed different about him. She thought back on her little “domestic” fantasies earlier in the night and found herself wondering if he ever had any of those himself. She almost laughed out loud when she remembered who she was thinking about.

  He led her out onto the dance floor and they found an empty spot. They both began to dance and she couldn’t help but notice how every woman on the floor looked at him with lust and her with envy. He was, of course, a great dancer. He danced like he did everything else. Perfectly. Cara was glad that dancing was something she’d always been good at. She’d taken ten years of dance classes before her father lost his job.

  Her mind suddenly turned to her mother, who she needed to call. Needed to visit. She’d been allowing herself to enjoy the fantasy of being with Branden, but that wasn’t real life.

  Branden pulled her tightly against his hard chest and leaned down so that his lips were almost touching her ear. The feel of his hot breath sent little jolts of electricity down her spine. “None of that tonight.”

  She turned her head slightly, and when she did his lips were just inches from hers. She’d only had a few sips of her drink but she felt drunk. “None of what?”

  “Whatever’s going on in that pretty head of yours. Tonight, I want you here with me. Completely.”

  She still couldn’t take her eyes off his lips. She was hoping he had more to say, because being this close as she watched them move was lighting a fire of desire in the pit of her gut. She had her hands on his shoulders and she slid them upward, wrapping them up behind his neck. She rested them there, but allowed her fingers to dance along his hairline.

  He had his hands on her waist, but as the beat accelerated and then decelerated, he slid them up, stopping briefly on the sides of her breasts before running them back down to her hips. As they swayed to the music, Branden turned her in a slow circle and pulled her back into him. His hands now ran freely across her abdomen, every so often venturing upward to brush her breasts.

  People could see them. He had to know that. He obviously wanted them to see. Wanted her to know they could see.

  Cara shivered and arched her back, fitting herself up against him. When the music slowed again, she matched the movement of her hips to it, grinding against his growing and stiffening cock. She leaned her head back on his shoulder. He bent his head and ran his lips across the sensitive flesh between her neck and shoulder. She had her eyes closed, oblivious to the hundred or more people around them.

  Cara felt her heart pounding in her chest. It was dancing to the beat of the music, as well. Branden slid his hands back and forth across her abdomen, causing her to push back harder and grind herself against him. He leaned down and whispered in her ear, “You keep that up and I won’t be able to walk out of here.”

  She turned her head slightly and shot him a wicked look over her shoulder. “Should I stop?”

  “Hell, no,” he growled out.

  “But what about the crowd? What if someone takes our picture and posts it online?”

  His fingertips gripped her hips more tightly and he pulled her hard against him. “Let them. We’re doing nothing wrong. And anyway, if that happened, then people would know you’re my woman.”

  His woman.

  The phrase hung there, heavy, like the beat, then dissipated and melted into the air when Branden rubbed his big hands along her hips and upper thighs, letting her skirt rise and fall with the motion, not exposing anything but leg, but coming so very close to the warm wet place he knew was there.

  While his hips swayed and his long legs moved in time with the music, he flipped her around once more, this time to face him. They kissed softly and then followed each other with their eyes and their bodies. Each time Branden would pull her in toward him, she ground her pelvis against the front of his pants. Then he would push her away again, and for a few minutes she would dance for him, and he would undress her with his eyes before he reached out and pulled her back in. His chest and her breasts would bump as he brought her in and they would dance slow and close. Her nipples were so hard that she knew he had to be able to feel them through both of their layers of clothes.

  He pushed her back again, and this time when she danced for him, she ran her own hands slowly down her body and back up again. She raked her eyes over his body as she danced, pausing over the large bulge in his pants and swiping along the outer edges of her lips with her tongue. He grabbed her with two hands then and brought her back in.

  Dropping his mouth to hers, he kissed her long and hard, deep and passionate, while squeezing and kneading the cheeks of her ass. When they finally broke for air, it took her a moment to realize the music had stopped playing, that the dance floor was clearing out.

  Slightly embarrassed, Cara grabbed Branden’s hand and tried to lead him off the dance floor. He refused to go and instead reached out and wrapped one hand through her long hair, pulling her back for another long, possessive kiss.

  This time, when they stopped kissing, he let her lead him off the dance floor. He stationed her back at his table, then when the cocktail waitress didn’t immediately appear, he headed off to get her water.

  Almost as soon as Branden left, Cara’s phone rang. She frowned when she saw the call was from her mother. Since it was late, Cara assumed there was some kind of emergency. And usually, emergencies were about Glenn.

  “Hi, Mom.”

  “Oh, Cara. I’m so glad I caught you.”

  “What’s wrong, Mom?” Cara glanced over her shoulder; Branden was still at the bar.

  “It’s Glenn.”

  Cara’s stomach flipped. “Is he okay?”

  “I got a call from the center. They said they couldn’t reach you…”

  Cara pulled the phone away from her ear and glanced at the screen. She did have a missed call. It had probably come through when she’d been dancing with Branden.

  “Mom, take a breath and tell me what they said.”

  Cara glanced at the bar again. Branden was on his way back over.

  “Glenn had an e
pisode. I don’t think he likes his new meds. The night assistant I talked to said he keeps asking for you. Glenn’s convinced himself that you’ve been killed or kidnapped because it’s been so long since he’s seen you. I’m sorry, honey, I know you’re busy and I would go, but…”

  She glanced up as Branden reached her. “I’ll go, Mom. Just so you know, I was there last week. He was sleeping the whole time, but I was there.”

  “Oh, honey, I know you take good care of him. You take good care of both of us.”

  Branden sat down and was giving her a quizzical look.

  “I have to go, Mom. I love you.”

  “I love you, too,” her mother said.

  Cara hung up and looked at Branden. She accepted a glass of water from him and took a generous swallow. “Thank you,” she said. She stared at the glass.

  “Is everything okay?” he asked quietly.

  “Um…my mother needs me.”

  “Tonight?” He glanced at his watch. “It’s awfully late. Are you going to go?”

  She nodded. “I—I need to.”

  “I’ll come with you.”

  Her head jerked up. “No.”

  “Cara—”

  “I’m sorry. I feel bad for cutting short our fun, but you can stay…”

  He frowned. “You want me to stay and dance without you?”

  Of course she didn’t. “Or—or you can work. I’m sure you have work to do.”

  He reached out and covered her hand with his. “Cara. What’s going on?”

  “What’s going on is I have responsibilities. Responsibilities that have nothing to do with you, Branden.” Nothing to do with the fantasy life that you live.

  He frowned. “I want to help you. Take care of you.”

  “No. I’m used to taking care of these things by myself. I want to keep it that way. I have to keep it that way.”

  “You don’t have to. You could try letting someone in every once in a while. You could try letting me in.”

  She stood. “I’m sorry. I have to go. If you’d prefer I go back to my own place afterward—”