Beauty in Lingerie: Lingerie #2 Read online

  Her hands started at my arms, feeling my biceps and shoulders. Then she explored my chest, feeling my pectoral muscles and my chiseled abdomen. She slightly arched her back and moved, rubbing against my hard dick with her pussy.

  This was exactly what I wanted. Muse writhing and panting for me. The hatred was gone from her eyes, and now she couldn’t wait to have me. She didn’t need lingerie tonight. In just her skin, she was the sexiest woman in the world.

  And she was all mine.

  I pressed my mouth to hers and kissed her, finally allowing my mouth to have what it wanted. Her kiss was sexy like always, with the perfect amount of lip and tongue. She breathed into my lungs, her hot breath making my dick twitch.

  I moved my hand into her hair, and I slowly rocked into her, rubbing her clit with my thick size. I kissed her harder and deeper, feeling my entire being fall into this woman. This was exactly what I wanted, not a random screw with a few girls from a club. There was only one woman I craved, only one woman I wanted to enjoy every single night.

  She was my fantasy.

  I wasn’t even inside her yet, and I wanted to come. I felt her take pleasure in me, felt her heart skip a beat because she enjoyed the stimulation so much. Her hands were all over me, grabbing everything and dragging her nails deep into my flesh.

  I trailed my kisses to her ear and breathed in her canal. “Muse…”

  She dragged her nails to my ass and yanked on me, begging me to move inside her. “Conway…please.”

  I pointed my dick at her entrance and slowly slid inside, feeling more lubrication than I’d ever felt in my life. I slid right in, knowing her pussy wanted me just as much I wanted her. I moaned into her ear, wanting her to listen to exactly how much I adored her. I’d never been between the legs of a more beautiful woman, a woman who made me feel more like a man. “Fuck…” I moved until I was completely sheathed, my balls hitting her ass. I’d been with her many times, but this somehow felt like the first time.

  She wrapped her arms around my neck and nibbled and moaned into my ear. “Conway.”

  The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end, and my dick twitched inside her. Every time she said my name, I thought I might explode. It was the sexiest thing I’d ever heard. I turned my face back to hers and felt her lips with mine. She was eager for me, giving me her tongue immediately.

  I started to rock into her.

  The sex was slow and steady. I moved inside her, but barely. My lips were focused on hers, and my chest pressed against her luscious tits as my hips thrust inside her. My balls lightly tapped against her ass, hitting her right between the cheeks. I could feel all her cream, all the lubrication her perfect pussy produced for me. The kiss was just as good as the sex, hot and heavy. Our lips came together, broke apart, and then came together again.

  I’d never wanted this, and now I wanted it more than anything. I could pick up a random woman and have good sex with no emotion, but now that felt empty. This was so much better, to feel how much this woman wanted me despite my enormous size. Her lips constantly trembled against my mouth, and her fingers yanked on my hair. She rocked back with me, wanting my dick as much as I wanted to give it to her.

  She spoke against my mouth, interrupting her kisses. “I’m going to come…”

  I didn’t need a warning because I knew exactly when she was going to release. She squeezed my dick with an iron fist. I sucked her bottom lip and pushed into her deeper, getting my dick all the way inside.

  She exploded around me a moment later, her screams deafening me. Her nails dug into the back of my neck, and her moans turned incoherent. She was a slave to her pleasure, turning into a woman who was a subject to her hormones. “Yes…Conway.”

  I’d missed this intense connection. I’d missed her kiss, her enthusiasm. The first time I had her, she cried during most of it. But she still came anyway, and that was the biggest turn-on ever. But now she was experienced, practicing on me until she became an expert in the sack. She knew exactly how to please me because I was the only man she’d ever fucked.

  Only man.

  As much as I wanted to come, I wanted this to last a long time. It felt right again, my fantasy a reality once more. It was easy to get lost in the pleasure. Time stood still, and all I could feel was the sensation erupting all over my body.

  When she finished her climax, her eyes focused again, and she ran her hands up my chest. “God…that felt good.” We’d been screwing every night for the past two weeks, and while she came each time, it wasn’t as enjoyable. She preferred this connection too, the strong heat between us. “So fucking good.”

  I widened her legs more and moved into her deeper, grinding my pelvis against her throbbing clit. My warm breaths fell on her face, and I looked at the erotic gleam in her eyes. “I’m only getting started.”

  * * *

  We lay side by side in the dark, both tired and satisfied from the extensive fucking we’d just done. My sheets were soaked with sweat and sex. I’d come inside her twice, so her pussy was stuffed with my seed. I felt like I’d run a marathon. I was exhausted, but I also felt like I’d achieved something great.

  My inspiration had returned.

  I pictured her wearing a white thong with a jewel in the center, a representation of the most beautiful gem between her legs. A push-up bra was on top, pearl white and innocent. The same jewel was in the center of the bra, right in the valley between her tits. The white represented her innocence, the jewel represented her flawless value. She was purchased for a hundred million dollars—because that was how much she was worth.

  She sat up on her side of the bed then ran her fingers through her hair.

  My eyes shifted to her back.

  She sat there for a few seconds, staring into the darkness of my bedroom. Then she placed her feet on the floor and stood.

  I sat up and leaned against the headboard. “Where are you going?”

  “To bed. If I don’t leave now, I’ll fall asleep and never wake up.”

  “Then fall asleep.”

  She turned around and faced me, the moonlight shining through the window and highlighting her face. “You want me to stay?”

  “Yes.”

  Instead of hopping back into bed, she continued to watch me.

  I held her gaze, trying to understand her hesitance.

  She finally crawled back into bed, her perfect figure highlighted by the moonlight. She got under the covers and rested her head against the pillow, her hair messy from rolling around for the last few hours.

  I lay beside her then hooked her leg over my hip. I brought us close together, cuddling with her face-to-face. I’d been sleeping alone my whole life. A man like me needed the entire bed to himself. I was six three, and my muscles created constant heat that warmed the sheets. Another body nearby just made me hot. But I wanted this woman beside me, wanted her soft skin against mine. I stared into her face and watched her close her eyes. Once she drifted off, her breathing became deep and slow.

  I studied her features, from the bow shape of her top lip to her slender nose. Every single feature was so perfect I wondered if she’d been created by a Greek god. She’d been molded from clay then brought to life. Never in my life had I seen a woman so stunning, so flawlessly perfect. She made me jealous because I was the only man who deserved such a perfect woman. I was the only one rich enough, powerful enough, and strong enough to bridle a woman such as her. Only a man like me had the means to protect the greatest treasure in the known world.

  My hand glided up her hip to the deep curve in her waistline. I moved farther up until I felt the swell of her tit. Her skin was softer than Greek sand, and her complexion was balanced between olive and cream. A small freckle appeared once in a while, but other than that, she was completely unmarked.

  I didn’t judge myself for being so obsessed.

  Her legs were the perfect length, every model’s dream. In five-inch heels, she finally came up to my chin. Even her feet were sexy, perfectly created. I wo
uldn’t change a single thing about her. I’d been working with models for the past decade, and not once did I ever come across a woman more beautiful.

  Muse was perfect.

  I was tired and satisfied, but I was more interested in watching her sleep. It didn’t surprise me that Knuckles wanted her so bad. He went up to fifty million just to have her, but he knew there was no price I was unwilling to pay. I would have doubled my price just to have her.

  She was mine.

  I leaned in and kissed her on the mouth, giving her a slight kiss that wouldn’t wake her up. Even when she didn’t kiss me back, her kiss was still better than any other I had. I moved my face into her neck and brought her closer to me, making sure there was no space in between us. We were a single person, wrapped up together and intertwined.

  And I liked it.

  * * *

  The next morning, I returned from my swim and stepped inside the living room in my bedroom suite. Breakfast had been set up at the table near the window—a pot of hot coffee, a vase with a single rose, and two silver platters that were covered with stainless-steel tops.

  I removed my shorts and set them in the hamper and tied a towel around my waist.

  Muse stepped out of the bedroom, dressed in one of my black t-shirts. Her hair was messy and pulled over one shoulder, and she still had a sleepy look in her eyes. She must have just woken up.

  “Morning.”

  “Morning.” She ran her fingers through her hair as she walked toward me, her beautiful legs moving with grace. “How was your swim?” She was so cold to me yesterday, but now everything felt the way it used to.

  “Good.” I circled her waist with my arms, and I kissed her.

  She rose on her tiptoes to meet my kiss with her own. Her hands moved to my bare shoulders, her skin warm to the touch.

  I never thought I’d like to be greeted that way, but I enjoyed it immensely. “Hungry?”

  “Always.”

  The corner of my lip rose in a smile, and I pulled out the chair for her so she could sit. Then I moved to the other side of the table and poured myself a mug of coffee.

  She removed the lid to her dish and started to devour her egg white omelet. Her eyes were still lidded with sleepiness, but she would perk up after another fifteen minutes.

  I opened the newspaper and started to read. I was barely halfway through my first article when I felt her staring at me. I shifted my gaze up to look at her. “Yes?”

  “You read the paper every morning?”

  “I try.”

  “Why?”

  “I like to know what’s going on in the world.” I sipped my coffee.

  “You just don’t seem like someone who would care. You have so many emails and other things to worry about.”

  Work never stopped because running such a huge empire was a constant hardship. It didn’t matter how many times I worked through the night, there was always something I didn’t get finished. So I’d stopped trying, realizing I needed to live my life instead of attempting to do the impossible. “Ever since I can remember, my father has always read the paper at breakfast. He did it when I was young, and he still did it up until the day I moved out. My mother usually stared out the window and sipped her coffee in silence. The first day I lived on my own, that’s what I did—read the paper.” I closed the newspaper and set it off to the side, knowing I wouldn’t have a chance to read it anyway.

  “You look up to your father a lot.”

  “Is it that obvious?” I asked sarcastically.

  “May I ask why?”

  “Doesn’t every son look up to his father?”

  She chuckled like I made a joke. “Definitely not. Just because you’re a father doesn’t mean you aren’t an asshole.”

  There were a lot of things I admired about my father. He was honest and concise. He didn’t talk much, but when he did, he got his point across very well. “I started to notice the way people spoke to him when I was young. It was always with reverent respect, even a little fear. My father commands authority without words. There’s something about him that makes people stand up straight. The only person who doesn’t follow this pattern is my mother. She’s the only one with permission to speak to him however she wants—and he allows it. But I know he allows it because he loves her. No one else will ever earn the right—not even me. He’s the hardest worker I know, staying in great shape even now. He’s a wealthy man who grew his fortune exponentially on his own. He earned my respect when I was a boy—and not because I had to give it to him. He raised me into the man I am now, teaching me to be a hardworking and honest man. His approval means a lot to me.”

  “I can tell he’s proud of you.”

  I gave a slight nod. “When I told my parents about my ambitions, I knew it would be awkward. To tell them I design sex clothes because of my obsession with women wasn’t easy. At first, my mom asked if I was gay. My father knew I wasn’t because he’d caught me in my promiscuous ways…many times. He just never told her about it. They both wanted me to take over the wine business. My father wants to hand me his legacy. But when I told them this was the path I’d chosen, they both accepted it. My father said he was proud of me and has always accepted me exactly as I am. That approval means the world to me.”

  She smiled. “Your parents are lovely. I really like them.”

  “Yeah…they’re great.” I knew they hated the fact that I lived five hours away, along with Vanessa. If they weren’t rooted in place because of their wine business, they’d probably move here to be closer to us. To my parents, family was everything. My father lived less than five miles away from his brother. The Barsettis were magnetically attached to each other.

  “I hope we see them again soon.”

  “I’m sure we will.”

  Muse drank more of her coffee then cut into her omelet. She took a few more bites, her eyes downcast.

  I watched her face, noting how beautiful her skin was in the morning light. When the other models removed their makeup, they looked like completely different people. Their features weren’t nearly as attractive. Muse was the first woman I’d met who actually looked better without makeup.

  She caught my stare and met my look. “What?”

  I didn’t answer her and took a bite of my breakfast.

  Muse continued to stare at me, her gaze confident. She drank her coffee then cleared her throat. “I have a demand.”

  “A demand?” I set down my fork and tilted my head slightly. “What does that mean?”

  “You lied to me and hurt me. I want something in compensation.”

  Judging by her change of tone, she’d been thinking about this for a while. Perhaps she’d been considering it since the moment she woke up. “Alright.”

  “I don’t want my own room anymore. I want to live in here—with you.” She held my gaze with the same confidence as before, prepared for me to challenge her. She knew she had me cornered because I had misled her for so long.

  That meant she wanted to sleep with me every night. She wanted to share my space with me constantly. She wanted to be integrated into my life. Our stuff would be shared, and I would see her things on my bathroom counter every single morning. My drawers would be cleaned out to accommodate her things.

  My initial reaction was to say no, but that was out of spite. I wanted to stand my ground out of principle. But I knew I needed to stop doing that. I wanted her beside me every night. I wanted sex every morning before work and every night before bed. I wanted to stare at her as much as I could, to treasure her beautiful features constantly.

  I wanted all of her.

  She held my gaze without blinking, still waiting for a response.

  I drank my coffee and dragged out my response on purpose, making her wait for my judgment. “Okay.”

  Her expression immediately slackened into one of surprise. “Really?”

  I nodded.

  “That was a lot easier than I thought it would be…”

  “May I ask why you want to l
ive in here with me?”

  She shrugged in response. “I just do.”

  My eyes narrowed. “I want a better answer than that, Muse.”

  She resisted me at first, giving me her silence. But she eventually folded under my gaze. “I sleep better next to you. I feel safe. I like your smell…your body heat. It makes me feel like less of a prisoner and more of a partner. It gives me the affection that I need, the normalcy that I crave.”

  I liked that answer, down to the last detail. “Anything else?”

  She looked into my eyes as she spoke. “I like sleeping next to you…when your come is sitting inside me.”

  Good answer.

  * * *

  I drove to the studio in Milan with Muse in the passenger seat. I’d fucked her on my bed before we left, filled her with as much come as she could take, and then hit the road. Now she was full of me, my seed dripping into her panties.

  Listening to her request to share my room with me got me so damn hard.

  We arrived at the studio then stepped inside the entryway. I had to check a few things with Nicole, and when Muse asked to come along, I didn’t refuse her. We reached the second landing, and I ran into a few models that were preparing for a photo shoot. They were wearing the new lingerie I had just designed and handed off to Nicole.

  “Conway.” Naomi moved into me, her lips ready to kiss my cheek.

  Muse hooked her arm through mine and pressed her body against me, claiming her territory as publicly as possible. “We should get going, Conway.” Her lips were just inches from my face, taking away any chance Naomi had to kiss me.

  I could barely contain the grin that wanted to stretch across my face. “I’m sorry, ladies. I’m running late.”

  Muse pulled me to the stairs, and we walked up together, her arm still hooked in mine for everyone to see.

  “You really are jealous,” I said under my breath.

  “How would you feel if a man kissed me on the cheek?” she countered.

  I wouldn’t like it at all. I didn’t even want anyone to shake her hand. “Point taken.” We walked to the third floor where my studio was and stepped inside. To my surprise, Carter was already standing there. He was in a gray suit with a black tie. Anytime he was dressed that way, he usually had a business meeting of some sort. Any other time, he was dressed in jeans and a leather jacket.