Winner Takes All (A Full Length Erotic Romance Novel) Page 8

  “You feel so good around my cock, Sasha,” he choked out as his hips moved between hers. “I could fuck you forever.”

  But good things didn’t last forever. Sasha knew that from experience, but that didn’t matter now. All that mattered was his thick cock stirring the pleasure inside her, stirring her back to the edge of orgasm. She felt the burn of her satisfaction so close. She gasped and moved under him, frantically now, clawing toward her come.

  “Fuck!” Damien grabbed her hips and jerked her hard onto him.

  His body bucked and shook as his orgasm took him, the hot spill of his seed pouring inside Sasha, triggering her own implosion.

  “Yes!” Sasha cried out. “Yes!”

  They shuddered together, their bodies finally coming to rest long moments later in a sweaty heap on the floor. Damien groaned.

  “I think you’ve cast a spell over me, woman.”

  She stroked his damp chest. “I think you have it the other way around,” she murmured.

  He chuckled then rolled over onto his back so she could lie on top of him. He smoothed a hand down her back, her ass. Sasha sighed in contentment, her body boneless and filled with the warmth of loving him. He was worthy of her trust. And he’d proven that to her time and time again. Soon, she would tell him about James and his demands. And she would tell him about her family and what she from. It wouldn’t be today. What they had now was too good to spoil with such dirty revelations. But she would tell him. Soon.

  “I know this is a little backwards.” Damien twirled a lock of her hair around his index finger, his breath tickling her ear. “After all, we have been sleeping together for months now, but I’d like for us to go to dinner, like a real couple.”

  Sasha smiled. A real couple. “I think I could do something like that.” At his incredulous look, she laughed.

  “You think you could do something like that?” His eyes glittered dangerously as he sat up, an eyebrow arched. He pulled her to him, fluttering long fingers across her ribs. She shrieked in laughter, falling against him in helpless giggles as he tickled her mercilessly.

  “Okay!” she cried out. “I’d love to go to dinner with you. I’d love it!”

  His fingers stilled as the laughter tumbled from his eyes. “That’s what I like to hear.”

  Sasha laughed again, snuggling up against him on the hard floor. It didn’t sound too bad to her ears either.

  ~~~

  Soft jazz played from the stereo of the small downtown restaurant. Beyond the window by their table, Louisville was a cornucopia of lights. The high rise buildings sparkling like Christmas trees. The Ohio River glimmering in the distance, reflecting those lights. On a Thursday evening, the street just outside the restaurant window was nearly empty. An oasis of calm.

  In the middle of their table, a candle flickered, its light flickering over Damien’s face as he leaned back in his chair in front of the remains of his lobster dinner. He looked happy. Sasha felt happy.

  “You know,” Damien murmured in a tone of confidentiality. “A lobster has a sense of smell about a thousand times keener than a human.”

  Sasha giggled, wrinkling her nose at her own plate that had a cracked open lobster claw and a tiny smear of butter. “How do you even know that?”

  Damien was quiet for a moment. In the light Sasha could detect the faintest blush on his cheek. “Biology is a hobby of mine.”

  “Really? How cool!” She looked at her lover in surprise, a pleased smile on her face.

  Ever since they had agreed to see each other publicly, she had been finding out more and more things about Damien. Intimate things that made her like him even more. She loved that he never watched TV but loved reading science fiction novels. That he couldn’t stand ice cream but loved cherry pie.

  Sasha leaned toward him, poking the lobster tail on his plate with her finger. “I wonder if that makes lobster sex better, them being able to smell their lover so strongly.” She grinned.

  Damien raised an eyebrow in question.

  “When I smell you, I want you even more. My mouth waters and I get so wet, I can barely stand it.”

  Across the table, his eyes grew darker. Hotter. “Oh really?”

  She pursed her lips. “Oh, yes.”

  “Can I get these dishes out of your way?” A waiter appeared at Sasha’s elbow. She pressed her lips together in amusement at Damien’s annoyed glance in the poor man’s direction.

  “Yes, please,” she said.

  The slender young man easily picked up the two large plates, their silverware and empty butter dishes.

  “And would either of you care for dessert?”

  Sasha looked at Damien, smiling. Earlier, they had looked over the menu and saw that the dessert of the week was homemade cherry pie. Damien’s face had lit up. A flicker of movement outside the window drew her eyes away from her lover’s face. For a moment, she wondered what she had seen; then a vague beige shape coalesced into a thin, short man. James.

  She caught her breath. Her heart began a loud thudding in her ears as she watched a smile spread across her brother’s face. He tipped an invisible hat to her. Quickly, Sasha looked away, wishing she hadn’t seen him. A feeling of dread began to turn over in her stomach. She swallowed against sudden nausea.

  “Would you share a slice with me, Sasha?”

  She forced her attention back to Damien and their date, hoping that her brother’s appearance outside the restaurant window was a coincidence and meant nothing.

  “Of course, I’ll share it with you.” She smiled widely at her lover, already shrugging off the unease her brother’s appearance had stirred. “But wouldn’t it be better for us to get two slices?”

  Damien chuckled. “Whatever you say, darling.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Sasha loosened her hold on the reins and allowed the gray gelding, Iron Fist, to find his way into the four-horse starting gate on his own. He was the only one attempting the starting gate while another half dozen horses galloped or jogged around the dirt track, jockey’s bouncing on their backs. It was a quiet day, hushed even. No breeze. Just the sound of hooves, occasional nickering of the horses, the muted conversation of other jockeys.

  The one mile track was bordered on both sides by vast green space, manicured laws that the staff at Taylor Stables took care to maintain. As always, Sasha felt a sense of peace as her gaze ran the length of white fence, the vast blue of the sky. She breathed in the smell of heated horseflesh, the sharp green of the freshly cut grass.

  She resisted looking beyond the stables and to the massive house where Damien was at that very moment. Was he thinking about her? Was he remembering last night when he had come over to her apartment with wine and fruit? When he had dragged her down to the floor and fed her strawberries, getting her drunk on wine and his kisses, then fucked her until she barely remembered her own name?

  Iron Fist stomped into the dirt, bringing her attention back to where it belonged. His sides moved regularly and evenly with his breath as he walked into the white cage. She sat back in the saddle as Linc made encouraging noises to the horse as he got used to his first time in a starting gate. From the open front of the gate, the trainer scratched between the gelding’s ears and fed him a carrot.

  “Very good,” he said in his deep, soothing voice. “This one is a natural,” he said to Sasha.

  She nodded, pleased with the progress of the once temperamental gelding. Iron Fist snorted with pleasure as she patted his neck. “You deserve at least two carrots for this, my handsome boy!” He danced a bit under her, his big body moving easily in the confined space.

  Nearby, a pair of jockeys walked their mounts to the starting gates, talking softly to each other. The day was bright, late afternoon sunshine pouring down from the cloudless sky. Sweat dripped under Sasha’s shirt and down her neck, her butt was sore from being in the saddle so long, and her arms ached. But it was a good pain. Satisfying pain. Like the pain her lover sometimes fed her like cooled and peeled grapes. A jo
lt of arousal shot between Sasha’s legs. She enjoyed that she was doing, as always, but she was eager to shower the day from her body and see Damien later.

  Things with her lover were even more incredible than before. Since they had started seeing each other more publicly, he’d shared so much of himself with her, becoming even more compelling to her in the last few days. Now, he was more than her boss. Definitely more than just a lover. Every time he took Sasha into his arms, her body and spirit responded to him like none other before. She was half-convinced that she was in love with him.

  “It’s good to see that smile back on your face, Sasha.”

  Linc patted Iron Fist one more time and jotted some notes on his clipboard. After a brief look at Sasha, he led the horse out of the starting gates. Iron Fist trotted obediently where Linc led him, out of the gates and toward the fence out of the way of the other riders. Sasha dismounted, fully aware of the reason she was smiling.

  “Things are finally looking up,” she said.

  She took off her gloves and stuffed them in her back pocket, leaned back against the fence and enjoyed the warmth of the wood through her shirt. She bent to unhook her backpack from the fence, pulled out a bottle of water and drank from it. The room temperature water rushed into her mouth and down her throat in a refreshing wave.

  “Good. No one should be as sad as you’ve been lately.” He took Iron Fist’s reigns and walked the horse a few paces, stopped, examined him. Linc’s pen moved again across the yellow notepad.

  “I was getting tired of it too.” Sasha flinched as she thought of her brother and his demands, of her dwindling funds and the half-life she now lived.

  Being with Damien made her happy despite that filth from her brother lingering around her. He washed her clean with his passion and surprising humor. Gave her hope when she had had none before.

  Something made her look up and away from Linc. She glanced up in time to see Damien’s elegant figure—muscular and perfect in jeans, riding boots, and a pale blue polo shirt open at the shirt—step out onto the track. He approached another one of the jockeys only a few feet from Sasha. He sent a smile her way and she felt warmth in her chest.

  How come I got so lucky?

  Linc glanced in Damien’s direction, nodded at his boss, then turned back to the horse he was training. His eyes skimmed over Sasha. She felt as if her face was flaming under that brief but knowing look.

  Not looking at her, Linc said. “You’ve been hanging out a lot with Damien lately. Is that the reason for your change of perspective?” His voice was low and curious, not at all judgmental.

  But Sasha couldn’t bring herself to say the words that would confirm that she and their boss were dating each other. It seemed too soon and their connection too fragile, to reveal it to anyone.

  “He’s been a good friend,” she said, although she suspected her cheeks were bright red from the lie. “The Derby win brought me to his attention and he’s helping me get used to all the hype that goes with that.”

  Linc nodded, still not looking at her. He slipped his notebook under his arm, took the Iron Fist’s reigns and led the gelding toward the stables. After hours in the sun and on the track, they were done for the day. Sasha and Linc walked together on either side of the horse.

  “He’s a good man, too. Honorable,” Linc said after a silent few moments. He seemed to be considering something, his dark eyebrows furrowed over an intense gaze. When he looked up at Sasha, his brow was suddenly smooth again. “You could do worse than get yourself involved with him.”

  Sasha almost nodded but stopped herself just in time. “Any woman would be lucky to have him.” She blushed again and bit her lip. The confession of their affair almost tumbled from her lips.

  “Excuse me.”

  A dark haired jockey pushed from behind Sasha and Linc, rudely bumping into Sasha as he came from behind them at a too-fast pace. He was sensible enough not to jostle the horse. As he passed, his gray eyes moved over Sasha. It was an insolent, sexually suggestive visual mauling.

  Vincent Frazier. One of the few men at the stables who’d dared to ask her out when she first started working there. Sasha had politely refused his attentions but Vincent had seemed to have it in for her since then. How long had he been standing behind them and listening to their conversation?

  What an ass.

  Sasha glanced at the jockey dismissively, turned back to Linc’s gaze. He was still smiling at her, his look knowing and kind.

  She looked away again, unable to say anything else.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Sasha smoothed her hand down the front of her dress, watching her reflection do the same in the mirror. The dress was white, ended modestly at the tops of her knees and had a neckline that only showed off the sharp blades of her collar-bones. But it was sleeveless and fit snugly to her curves. A gift from Damien a few days before along with a pair of black spike heels she’d had to practice walking in. The shoes were five inches high, a soft black leather, and had straps that buckled around her ankles. He hadn’t seen her in them yet, only told her to wear the dress and shoes to the staff party that he had planned for everyone at Taylor Stables for the feature article that they had landed in Equestrian this month.

  In the mirror, she looked almost innocent with her black hair loose and wavy around her shoulders, her tan deep and flattering against the paleness of the dress. Her legs looked miles long in the black stilettos. But then she’d added one accessory of her own. She hoped Damien liked it. Sasha took a deep breath and grabbed her purse, barely paying attention to her small, shabby apartment.

  It was just a place for her to store her things now. Not a home. Not a sanctuary. This was even after Damien had come to find her there and scrub any awful feelings she had about the place from her mind. At the end of the day, it was still the place James had forced her to turn to. It was still a reminder, one of the several daily reminders, of what she had been forced down to since her brother came back into her life.

  She had unpacked the boxes of her few remaining belongings, cleaned up as much as the apartment could be cleaned, changed the dead light bulbs and got the office to fix the outlets that didn’t work. Now, it was almost a decent place to live. Watermarked ceiling, cracked walls, and all.

  Keys in hand, she left the apartment, negotiated the pock-marked walkway to the parking lot and her car. She started the little Honda and drove out into the muggy summer evening. Sasha felt the oppressive weight of her situation begin to float away the farther she got from her apartment. And the closer she got to Damien.

  At the country club where Damien hosted the party, Sasha surrendered her little car to the valet and walked in through the wide doors held open by the smiling doorman. The marble floors were loud under her high heels as she walked toward the ballroom where the party was being held. On a Friday night, the place was aflood with life. Women in expensive dresses, men in their tailored suits. Low, aristocratic voices threaded with the occasional laughter of someone not used to the repressed quiet of a place like this.

  Sasha walked in the direction of the laughter, convinced it belonged to one of her co-workers at the stables. She was right. Elise, one of the secretaries, stood at the entrance to a ballroom chatting with one of the jockeys. Even in her low-heeled sandals and her height of barely five and a half feet, Elise was taller than the man who was trying to pick her up.

  “Hey, Frankie. Hey, Elise.” She greeted her co-workers with a guarded smile, not sure how she would be received.

  Elise, pretty and brown in a bright blue dress, glanced at Sasha with a smile of her own. Her face was open and guileless. “It’s good to see you.” She moved her drink to her other hand to lean in and give Sasha a hug. “Seem like we haven’t seen you around in forever.” Elise smelled like peach schnapps and maraschino cherries.

  Frankie gave her a more restrained greeting, a mere nod of his head, but he took a long and thorough look at her body. “Damn girl, you clean up good,” he said. A smile flicker
ed across his face. “Is that why you’ve been AWOL after work, you’ve been out getting under the knife to get that killer body?”

  Sasha winced but knew he didn’t mean anything by it. Thanks to her lack of funds, she hadn’t been able to do the community things she’d regularly indulged in before her brother had shown up with his demands. This meant no more impromptu lunches with the other jockeys. No more bowling nights with Linc and a few of the guys who worked the track. No more socializing at all where she had to spend money.

  “I’ve just been hiding from you, Frankie. I hear you’ve been a real bitch to everyone lately.” He was the sweetest of all the jockeys. And even with his very vocal appreciation of the women who worked with him, he was happily married to his high school sweetheart and wouldn’t even think of doing more than talking to another woman.