Breaking His Rules Page 8

  My stomach was overcome with jitters as he leaned in and raked his lips along mine. We kissed shamelessly for a few seconds, oblivious to the noise and people around us.

  “How’d you become such a control freak, anyway?” I asked in a daze.

  He laughed out loud. “Excuse me?”

  “The rules at Midnight Blue.” I clarified. “I assume you came up with them? They scream control freak with a capital CF.”

  Damon grunted and rubbed his hand along his stubbly chin. “Capital CF?” he asked, skeptically. “You can blame it on my mother. She was the queen of good planning and strict order. School work, piano lessons, Sunday school. You name it, she had a plan for it.”

  “You went to Sunday school?” I puckered my lips as I tried to imagine him dressed in his Sunday best and listening eagerly to the lessons.

  He leaned back against his bar stool with a lazy grin. “Why is that so hard to believe?”

  “Because you look more like a sinner than a saint.” I offered and rested my elbow against the bar, facing him. I leaned in and whispered, “You definitely fuck like a sinner.”

  “Ms. Rayne, there goes that mouth again.”

  He rubbed his thumb in methodical circles over my thigh. It was both distracting and enticing. The rhythm was one I knew quite well. My clit pulsed with every rotation of his thumb.

  “I was an altar boy, too,” he admitted, increasing the pressure. “And I sang in the choir.”

  “It gets better and better.” My breathing was a little uneven. I cleared my throat. “So you play piano and sing?”

  He nodded and then paused as Brad placed two plates, heaping with food, onto the bar in front of us. Damon released his hold on my thigh and all I wanted to do was grab his hand and beg him to continue. I was in so much trouble.

  “There’s a reason the ladies love him.” Brad chimed in, having caught the tail end of my comment. “And it ain’t because of his beautiful face. Wait until you hear his voice.”

  Damon winked at me and faced off with his food, unrolling his utensils and tossing the napkin on his lap. “Don’t hold back. It’s the best Italian beef in town.”

  He didn’t have to tell me twice. Thinly sliced seasoned roast beef strips, dripping with meat juice, were stacked in a traditional Italian roll and topped off with giardiniera. The combination melted in my mouth. There was no masking the moan of pleasure that slipped out of me with the first bite. Damon chuckled and lapped up some of the meat juice with his fries.

  We ate in comfortable silence until the initial pangs of my ravenous hunger were sated. Then my curiosity took over. I wanted to know more about the enigma sitting next to me. I bombarded him with questions about college and was surprised to find out he’d attended Harvard University on a rowing scholarship. An expensive college for someone who didn’t grow up with money.

  “Is that how you keep in shape?” I asked, remembering the feel of his lean muscles.

  “Yes, and no.” He shoved the last bite of his sandwich in his mouth and chewed while wiping his fingers on a napkin. After washing it all down with a gulp of beer, he continued. “There’s a boat club not far from here where I row occasionally. But my work schedule doesn’t allow much time for that pleasure anymore. I mostly workout in my gym at home.”

  “That’s too bad. You must miss it,” I said, licking meat juices off my finger.

  His eyes were drawn to my mouth like a moth to the flame and I smiled, sucking my finger in a smidgen deeper than necessary. He was such a guy.

  I tipped his chin up. “Do you like what you see?”

  “You know I do.” He gazed at me through hooded eyes. “Now I’m full of regret. I should’ve paid off the hostess for a table. I could take you home right now and fuck your brains out.”

  “You’re going to do that anyway,” I said with a wink. “Patience is a virtue. I found it very charming that you didn’t strong-arm your way in here.”

  He leaned forward and grinned. “Charming enough to spend another night with me?”

  A warm flush of happiness stole through my body. “Maybe.”

  Knowing Damon was attracted to me felt both wonderful and terrifying. Falling for my boss didn’t seem like a good idea. That couldn’t end well. Could it? But we still had tonight. Maybe I’d be out of his system by the morning.

  “Have you ever thought about dueling pianos for Midnight Blue,” I asked, turning the conversation to more neutral territory. “Any kind of unique experience you can offer always makes good business sense. My father features local artists once a week at our family restaurant.”

  Damon folded his arms and got comfortable in his stool. “You don’t think The Lounge offers a unique experience?”

  “Only for those important and lucky enough to receive an invitation from the esteemed owner,” I said with a hint of challenge. “What about all of us common folk on the first level?”

  The dimple in his cheek popped out and he rolled his eyes. “You’re not common folk. But let’s say for a moment that you have a point. Dueling pianos works better in an intimate setting like this bar. What do you have in mind? I’m all ears.”

  “If I owned a nightclub, I would use the assets I already have to their fullest potential.” I nodded my head toward the bartenders. “Midnight Blue has bars strategically placed throughout the establishment. Why not pit your bartenders against each other in a friendly competition? You can offer the winning drink as the nightly special. Something like that?”

  His expression softened and he laid his arm along the back of my stool. “Maybe I need to start a suggestion box in the employee locker room. Sounds like you have great ideas.”

  “And give up all that control?” I teased with wide eyes.

  “Okay, lover boy,” Brad said, interrupting our light exchange and lifting our plates. “Looks like the show is about to start. Time to take your places.”

  A thousand butterflies took flight in my stomach as Damon stood and held out his hand. I still couldn’t believe he was going to do this. My insides were a hot mess. Hundreds of eyes were glued on him as we made our way to the piano. Why wasn’t he nervous?

  When we made it to the pianos, the red-headed hostess was waiting for us. She held out her hand. “Sydney Cooper. It’s a pleasure to meet any friend of Damon’s. Are you ready for a little fun?”

  “Samantha Rayne,” I said, shaking firmly. I was an idiot. She wasn’t some bimbo. She owned the damn place. “Thanks for letting me sit up front and center.”

  Sydney turned to the crowd as they greeted her with hoots and hollers. She waved her hands to bring order to the room. “You all know the rules. There will be three rounds. Best two out of three wins. Please join me in welcoming back one of our returning duelists, Damon, and his special guest, Samantha. May the best man”—she smiled at Damon—“or woman win!”

  The crowd clapped and stomped their feet as Sydney thrust a glass bowl containing folded pieces of paper at me. “Your choice.”

  I reached in and pulled out a slip. My eyes widened as I read it aloud in the microphone. “A masterpiece by Queen.”

  “Ladies first,” Damon said with a nod to Sydney, and then he led me to the piano on the right, indicating for me to scoot onto the bench first so he would be seated closest to the crowd.

  I watched in awe as the owner took her place at the other piano with a confident air. She didn’t waste any time once she was seated and began to play the first tentative notes of “You’re My Best Friend”. Her voice was sultry and her body language animated as she gave herself over to the song. The crowd joined in, singing the background chorus, and I held my hand over my mouth, trying to suppress my surprised giggle.

  “Oh, you’re so going to lose,” I whispered to Damon. “She’s really, really good.”

  He gaped at me in mock horror and gripped his chest. “Like a knife to my heart.”

  When the music stopped, the crowd went wild, stomping and clapping their approval. Sydney stood to take a bow and th
en gestured for Damon to begin. The room quieted and I scooched over another inch to give him plenty of space.

  He winked at me and sang the first line to “Somebody to Love” acapella in his rich baritone…stretching out the “meeeeeee” playfully before placing his fingers on the keys and belting out the rest of the song. Clearly, he had done this many times before, and he ate it up when the crowd filled in the chorus for him. I swayed along to the music and smiled at his theatrical performance. Eric would shit his pants if he saw it.

  With the last notes of the song, I grabbed hold of Damon’s face and kissed him hard on the lips. “That was fantastic!” I shouted over the roar of the patrons. “You’re amazing.”

  He grinned and stood to take his bow, graciously accepting the win for round one of the duel. At Sydney’s bidding, an older gentleman stepped forward and reached into the bowl.

  “Sing me a song, Celine Dion.”

  “Shit.” Damon cursed and looked to the ceiling as a triumphant smile took over Sydney’s face. “She always wins with Celine. I can’t beat her rendition of ‘The Power of Love’.”

  Damon held my hand as we listened to her heartfelt version of the song. It was beautiful, and while Damon’s take on “I Drove All Night” was entertaining as hell, it wasn’t enough to squeak out the win for round two.

  Tension radiated in the air as a young woman from the crowd drew the last slip and squealed with delight. “Sorry, Sydney,” the woman announced as she bounced up and down. “Give us your best Josh Groban.”

  Damon threw his fists in the air. “And. He. Scores.”

  Twenty minutes later, as Damon navigated the streets of Chicago, I was still in a state of shock. He had nailed Josh Groban’s “Brave”, leaving me speechless. And I wasn’t the only one. The crowd sat mesmerized as he sang. It wasn’t even a close call. Damon won hands down.

  “Where did you learn to sing like that?” I asked, gazing at his profile. He was so damn confident in everything he did. “I’ve never heard anything so lovely.”

  “Are you ready to eat crow?” He reached out and caressed my cheek with his thumb. “I did not lose.”

  “Do you ever?”

  “Yes,” he admitted with some reluctance as he turned into the parking garage of his building. “Sometimes it’s the luck of the draw. As you can imagine, my voice is better suited to certain songs.”

  “But you’re sneaky and choose songs that will make the ladies swoon.”

  His booming laugh filled the car. “You have me all figured out? That’s not sneaky; it’s a solid strategy. Women often cheer louder than men.”

  He parked a minute later and turned off the engine. I leaned over the center console and drew his face toward mine, kissing him hungrily now that we were alone. “Thank you. I wasn’t expecting to be wined and dined tonight. That’s the most fun I’ve had in a really, really long time.”

  His tongue parted my lips and he swept in for a quick taste, darting in and out to tease me mercilessly. “You’re welcome.”

  “Damon?” I whispered against his lips.

  He leaned back and his eyes searched mine. “What?”

  My gaze didn’t waver. “Are you going to take me upstairs and fuck me now?”

  “Oh, that mouth of yours.” His grin widened as he unlocked the doors. “All night long, baby.”

  CHAPTER 9

  We’ve Got Tonight

  The view of Chicago from Damon’s penthouse rivaled that of Cité. In fact—it was better—because nothing stood between me and the brilliant skyline. The night air was chilly, but I couldn’t resist the temptation of the balcony nuzzled between the living room and master bedroom.

  Damon Baxter certainly enjoyed everything money could buy and he didn’t try to hide it—from nightclubs, to fast cars, and a penthouse suite with his own private gym. The contrast between the billionaire playboy and the man eating Italian beef at Sydney’s Bistro & Bar was striking. And more than a little confusing. I could fall hard for the piano-dueling singer.

  A small shudder rippled through me when Damon snaked his arm around my waist. He kissed my neck and placed a glass of beer into my hand. “I thought you might like a drink. You should stick to beer.”

  He was so bossy sometimes. What if I didn’t want beer? I wondered if he consciously made decisions on my behalf, or if he did it out of habit. As a business owner, he made decisions every day and answered to no one. Was he even aware of it? I decided it didn’t matter. We were here to fuck, not debate his quirks.

  “What a breathtaking view,” I said with a sigh and leaned against him. “I could stare at it all night.”

  “My thoughts exactly,” he whispered, his breath tickling my ear.

  Glancing back, I found him gazing at me.

  My lips curved up. “I meant the city.”

  “Who cares about the city when I can have you?” His lips teased mine in a slow and tantalizing kiss. I rubbed my bottom against his crotch and he groaned, taking our kiss from sultry to sizzling.

  “Samantha,” he said with a hint of warning, “you’re going to be flat on your back in five seconds if you tease me like that.”

  I turned in his embrace and pressed my tits hard against him. “What’re you waiting for? Your cock isn’t going to come on its own.”

  He threw his head back and laughed. “That dirty little mouth of yours is killing me. Sure you don’t want to finish your drink in the living room?” He grabbed the glass out of my hands and sipped. It was an intimate gesture and, dammit, I really liked it. “Once we head into the bedroom,” he continued, “we’re not coming out until morning.”

  Bossy. Bossy. “You’re like a caveman.” I took my beer back for a gulp. Foam stuck to my upper lip and I licked it away, smiling as he honed in on the movement of my tongue. “You have a nasty habit of making executive decisions.”

  A lewd grin spread across his face. He set my glass on the patio table and then threw me over his shoulder with a resounding smack on my ass. “That’s because I am an executive. And right now,” he said, circling his flat palm across my ass, “I’m making the executive decision to rip your clothes off and have my nasty way with you.”

  I giggled and held onto his back as he opened the door to his master bedroom, catching a glimpse of his monstrous bed when he turned to close the door. It was a glorious four poster with dark wood and leather. Masculine and yet lovely at the same time. He tossed me onto the bed with little ceremony and straddled my body, caging me in with his arms and legs.

  I didn’t have time to think—let alone breathe—before his mouth was devouring mine. I went for the buttons on his shirt first, flying through them like I was an Indy car racer on the final lap to the finish line. He moaned as I explored the contours of his broad shoulders and every inch of his flexing muscles down his arms. He lifted one hand and then the other, letting me toss his shirt away. I wanted his cock in my mouth and I wanted it now, so I made a quick move for the opening of his jeans.

  “Good God, woman.” He panted. “I’m supposed to be stripping you.”

  He caught my hands and pulled them over my head and proceeded to grind his rock hard shaft against my pussy while his lips continued their torturous assault on my mouth and along my exposed shoulders and chest. All I could think about was his hot tongue circling its way toward my tits and the way it set my skin aflame.

  “This sweater is a total mind fuck,” he said with a licentious grin. “Hides your ass but teases me with a view of your beautiful skin.” Still keeping my wrists secured above my head with one hand, he used the other to yank down the material and bra on one side, exposing my aroused nipple. He nibbled on the hardened bud and circled it with his tongue. It tightened and ached under his careful tutelage.

  He tugged at it with his teeth and I shuddered, unable to keep still. Watching his lips and tongue at work on my body was blissfully hot. My hips rocked under his and I was rewarded with the slow grind of his hard dick. He kneeled back on his haunches and drew me toward
him, reaching for my sweater and pulling it over my head. A sexy little smirk lifted his lips while he unfastened my bra expertly with one hand.

  He tossed my bra aside and cupped each tit in his strong hands, kneading and rolling the taut nipples between his finger and thumb. His lips parted as he played with them and I arched forward in a silent plea for him to taste me.

  “I love these,” he said, squeezing gently with a fascinated gleam in his eyes. “But I love the little treasure hidden under here even more.” With one hand, he found my crotch and massaged through the jeans.

  “Oh, fuck me,” I groaned, throwing myself back onto the bed with a cry of frustration.

  A husky chuckle was his only response as he maintained an excruciating rhythm on my cunt. He released the zipper on my jeans and slid his hand inside until he found his mark. I ground my hips, taking what I wanted and sighed at the heavenly feel of his fingers stroking my clit. “You’re so greedy, angel. I’ll have none of that.”

  Jumping off the bed, he grabbed one of my legs and tugged on my boot. “We’ll put these back on again later.” He kissed the inside of my calf and then removed the other boot. “That’s something I’d like to see. You naked on my bed with those boots on and your legs spread eagle for me. When I’ve had my fill of that sinful view, I’m going to crawl up the bed and eat your pussy real slow-like until you purr.”

  I leaned up on my elbows and eye-fucked him then without shame. Did he think he could tease me like that and not feel the effects? My lips pursed as the evidence of his arousal bulged against his pants. He leaned over to grab the waist of my jeans and I shimmied out of them with his help.

  “What’s this little gem?” he asked, crawling onto the bed next to me to take a closer look at the lizard-shaped navel ring I wore. “You didn’t have this last week. Why a lizard?”

  “Lizards are the spiritual symbol for dreams.” I rested my head on one hand and fingered the lizard with my other hand, pausing to feel the ridges of each sapphire lining the body. “I got it when I moved to Chicago in pursuit of my dreams—to make it on my own.”