Jennifer Probst - The Tantric Principle

She slid off him right before the explosion. “Not yet, baby, you’re not ready,” she whispered in his ear. She bit his earlobe, then soothed with her tongue. All the while, she kept up an array of dirty talk as her hands cupped, stroked and massaged his scrotum, his ass, his penis.

He closed his eyes to focus on control, but it was long gone, her laughter ringing in his ears as he threw pride to the wind and begged for her mercy.

Suddenly, she was on him again, sliding over his cock buried to the hilt in her silken heat.

Her green eyes blazed with passion and demand as she grasped his hips. “Now I’m going to make you come again. Come inside of me, Grant.”

She moved.

Arianna took him on a wild ride of sexual pleasure and torment, stopping when he was at the edge to briefly suck on him again, then sliding back again. Time passed, then stopped.

Broken pleas came from his lips until she quickened the pace, her breath coming in hard ragged pants, and he felt himself climbing up, almost there and he came hard and exploded inside of her.

He gave it all, control and thought and planned seduction all shot to hell. And he didn’t give a shit. Grant wondered if he would ever care about anything else in his life other than having this woman as his wife, in his bed and in his life.

He was barely aware of her shuddering above him in her own climax, then sinking back down, her skin slightly damp.

Then he had his own epiphany, naked in bed with the woman he loved.

He was a complete ass.

She loved him. She had asked him to accept her choice, to be there for her when she chose him over a career she loved. Instead, in his arrogance and ego, he had turned his back on her offer, smug in his superiority and martyrdom. He was no martyr. He was just scared shitless of allowing her to choose him over work. He never wanted to be put into that position, and put his own fears on Arianna.

The irony was almost comical. He wanted her to stay, and she was ready to give him her whole self. Instead, he threw the offer back in her face so he could be alone with his lousy pride.

Grant prayed it wasn’t too late.

“Stay.” He pulled his restrains to the limit and was able to tangle his fingers in her hair to force her to look at him. Green eyes still drugged halfway with pleasure, she looked deep into his eyes and he let her see it all. “I love you. I was an ass. I see that now. I’m asking you to stay.” The clock ticked.

He waited.

Then she pulled away and got off the bed. She dressed with quick economic motions and stood beside him. Trapped by the handcuffs, he watched helplessly. When she finally turned back, one tear ran down her cheek.

Grief shattered through him.

“I didn’t do this for revenge or to show you what you’ve been missing. I wanted to give you what you’ve given me over the last few months. Pleasure. Intimacy. You opened my eyes to something new, and you made my body reach heights I don’t think I’ll ever experience again. I needed you to see what I feel for you every time you took me in your arms. But you wouldn’t let me. This was the only way I knew to reach you.” She paused. Then her voice came out in a ravaged whisper. “It’s too late. I made promises. I have an apartment and a new life. I would have done anything if you had just given me a sign. Just. . . ” She trailed off and dashed her hand across her cheek in frustration. “I love you. I will always love you, Grant Madison. But I can’t stay.”She reached down and tossed a tiny key on the bed next to him. Then left.

By the time Grant had unlocked himself and raced outside, she was already gone.

The team assembled in the conference room to hear the day’s stats. Her earpiece hooked securely over her ear, Arianna paced and gave a list of orders for the Rosebud Account. They were going after Victoria’s Secret and it was going to be a war. One she intended on winning.

Her gaze swept the room. Six people, four men, two women, sat waiting for instruction. It had taken a while to bond, but after the last three weeks of late nights and weekends, she felt as if they were almost a second family.

As creative director, she was in charge of the entire account for the Superbowl ad. They’d just secured a killer supermodel for the shoots, an edgy new Hip Hop artist for the music, targeting the twenty-something woman who wanted to rock her man’s world.

This was no Playtex woman and Arianna was committed one hundred percent to the project. Her job pretty much depended on it. She loved that her team was completely dedicated also, and their ability to hustle showed in the work.

A beep sounded in her ear and she pushed the button. “Yes?”

“You have someone waiting in your office.”

She blew out an impatient breath. “Kathy, I’m in a meeting, no time. Who is it?” The receptionist paused. “He wouldn’t give a name. Just said it was urgent and he’d wait in your office. I think it’s personal.”

Her heart paused, then continued beating. Of course, it wouldn’t be him. Arianna squashed the thought like a creepy spider and cursed her unconscious. Damnit, she had something good going on here. She’d walked away with her head held high and a broken heart, but she was healing. Except at night, when he invaded her dreams like a blood sucking vampire.

At least she had the daytime under her strict control. Until something stupid like this came up.

An unknown visitor, and suddenly images of chick flick movies and airport “I love you's” rummaged through her head.

“Fine, I’ll be there in minute.” She clicked off. “Guys, let’s take a break, I have someone in my office.” She threw out some orders and marched down the hall, nodding to some of the other employees as she made her way through the building.

She loved Chicago. The fast pace was close to New York, and the creative energy of the satellite firm was off the charts. Her conference calls with her boss were positive. The buzz on the business street confirmed she was good at her job and began to earn the respect of the upper executives. She nodded to her secretary as she opened the door to her office. She closed it behind her.

And came face to face with Grant.

God, he looked good. He stood in the corner of the room, looking over her photos and ads displayed on the wall. Lean legs clad in tight, worn jeans. A white button down shirt, left open at the neck, rolled up at the sleeves, displayed sinewy, muscled arms made rock solid by doing over a hundred pushups per day. Her gaze greedily swept his length, settling on his face. His hair was tied back in a long ponytail. His features always struck her as too hard to be classically attractive, but the harnessed masculine energy reflected in the gleam of onxy eyes, and sculpted mouth threw handsome right in the trash basket.

He turned and looked at her, seemingly relaxed and at ease. The last night they’d spent together flashed through her mind. Raw sex and intimacy for long hours. The images would never leave her. She didn’t think another man could ever wipe the last vestige of him coming inside of her, finally free of his control and belonging completely to her.

Yet she had left. It had been too late.

Arianna kept her voice neutral and prayed for strength. “To say this is a surprise is an understatement. Hello, Grant. Welcome to Chicago.”

His gaze probed hers, then shifted to sweep over her face and body in a sensual caress, as if she still belonged to him. “Hello, Arianna. You look wonderful.” She shrugged. Her designer charcoal suit was conservatively cut for business, but he seemed more interested in the swell of her breasts and the glimpse of her legs clad in high heels.

The same heels she had worn that night.