Chapter One

Paris, France

Oralia Norman fussed with her hair before the mirror as she took stock of her life. The new year was about to ring in and she was shy of thirty. Lia was comfortable with where her life was and where it looked to be headed, sort of. Professionally it was going like gangbusters, but her sex life was a different matter. Personally, her day to day life was a bit blah, and she knew why. She didn’t have the ability to trust anyone beyond a superficial level.

Turning around, she peered over her shoulder in the mirror to check her appearance from behind. Average in height and appearance, she was lucky to be comfortable with what her parents had given her. Her platinum blonde hair was natural, and matched well with her large china blue eyes and easily tanned skin. Neither slim nor fat, she was curved in all the right places.

Standing out, in more ways than one, was her chest. Her breasts looked like they’d been bought rather than genetic, except they were. Her body meant men stared at her with lust in their eyes and a hard-on poking out of their pants.

The big picture flashing before her was of an averagely pretty woman with big breasts. She knew and accepted she looked more like a Playboy centerfold than a serious artist—everybody else’s problems, critics’ problems, not hers.

Shaking her head in disgust, she considered how easily society was led by materialism and appearances. With a quick look, she ensured the slit in her gown didn’t expose more than she wanted by repeatedly walking toward and away from the mirror. Lia couldn’t help but smile as she remembered how she had first met her hosts for the evening’s party.

A thrill raced through her as the memory of her first real big success flashed into her head.

On a whim and a prayer, she’d submitted one of her sculpted pieces to a juried show in NYC, and placed first. A world-renowned contemporary art connoisseur, who had been invited to act as a judge, had liked her piece. After the competition, the man and his social maven wife took the time to separate her from the crowd. They shared their praise of her work, telling her how they found her work incredibly tactile, approachable, and utterly peaceful. They understood what she was trying to portray and she glowed. By the end of the evening, the couple had purchased the winning sculpture for their personal collection.

Pride, a feeling of success, euphoria and a sense of validation was what she’d taken away from her first meeting with the Antonellis. She’d been happy then they’d emailed her, and kept up the correspondence for months. They had conversations and a couple of visits. In time she discovered the kindly older man was none other than the Gianni Antonelli, owner of world class Formula One Sorreti Racing Team. She knew of him from her time in England. He was recognized around the world as a shrewd and ruthless businessman. The kind man had a reputation for possessing the golden touch and he’d touched her world.

Turning away from the mirror, she considered her respectable birthright. Coldness spread throughout her body as her family rushed through her mind.

Lia wished she’d had a chance to know her parents. Suzette and James Norman had both been born into good, solid old-moneyed English families and married early, making both their families happy. They’d quickly become the darlings of the party circuit in England and down throughout Europe. When she was young and living at home, she occasionally unearthed a rare photo of them. The old pics had shown the lovebirds as an effervescent and vivacious couple. Too bad they hadn’t lived to see her to a decent age.

Once they’d conceived, the couple had settled down with his mother on the Norman family estate, only to quickly cave in to their social cravings. Returning to the party circuit, they left her as a baby with Nora, James Norman’s mother. Shortly thereafter, the couple had died in a boating accident on the Mediterranean, leaving her grandmother, a bitter and unhappy woman, to raise Lia on her own.

The experience had been horrible and she couldn’t get away fast enough. The day after her A-level results had been posted, she left for America to make her own way far from her family’s name, reputation and standing. To the day, the best part of each painting sold, beer served, and bills paid meant she hadn’t needed to approach her grandmother for money. Along the same vein, neither had she dipped into the money her parents had left in their will. Making such an accomplishment ensured she was proud of herself.

Sighing with a twinge of remorse for the loss of her parents, she fingered the few loose curls dangling around her face. Family or not, she was thankful to be her own person, and had no problems reminding herself. She could look in the mirror to see pride and confidence reflected back.

For most of the day, she’d been thinking about the presentation of the team painting to Gianni. But, each time her mind turned toward the canvas, it also brought up the current focus of her mind. Through time spent painting, she’d been thrown together with one particular man and physical need and passion grew ever stronger.

Her constant companion, since she’d met him, was horny and had only grown further with each meeting. For a year she wanted him and hadn’t said a word. Never before had she lusted after a man as much as she had Selkirk MacLellan.

Enough! Pushing her desire from her head, Lia walked out of her hotel room and waited by the elevator. Looking at her reflection in the doors, she took a shaky breath, and put her hands to her heated face. She needed to cool down, quickly.

Dang, why was he on her mind? He was a cheeky man who played the ultimate playboy from their first meeting. Upon their introductions he took her hand and held it confidently, all while he flirted outrageously. The man had warmed her blood to a boiling point as he had held her gaze with his wicked, brownish green eyes. He had even taken control by correcting her use of his name, insisting she call him Kirk instead of Mr. MacLellan.

Kirk, familiar, and yet their connection didn’t go far enough. He was the team leader for Sorreti, rumored in most arenas who would know to be the best racing driver ever. None of it mattered because she knew he was a dangerous man in regards to her body.

While nothing was said, she sensed he challenged her, and she wanted his touch all the more.

With great effort, she pushed the gorgeous hunk firmly out of her mind as the doors opened. Lia left the elevator and made her way through the elegant lobby. A prearranged taxi would carry her from the quaint hotel on the Ile Saint Louis, sitting in the middle of the Seine, to the museum. The Antonellis had arranged for the museum to open for the cocktail party, allowing guests time to roam freely through the gallery as they chatted. Afterwards they’d share dinner, dancing, and further celebrations in a tent set out amongst the stars and gardens.

It wasn’t often she attended a formal party, which meant she had to make arrangements.

Lia had shopped for a dress especially for the occasion at a second hand boutique. The dress was made of a beautiful royal purple jersey satin. The full-length gown had a broad neckline, small cap-like sleeves, and draped softly over her large breasts. The construction of the bodice was small, but thankfully acted as a shelf and supported her bust. The gown fit closely along the waist and dropped to the floor to dance loosely around her black, high-heeled encased feet. There was a slit, but more for the convenience of walking than anything else.

The gown wasn’t overtly sexy although her figure ensured she looked like a voluptuary in the throes of a passionate interlude. Because it was the end of December and cold, she chose a simple black velvet opera cape with a hood to pull up and over her purposely-tousled updo. A few loose curls had already escaped and twirled around the only visible jewelry she wore, drop earrings of gold fine wires with rough-cut amethysts dancing at their ends.

The purple stones hung from her ears and gently knocked against her exposed neck. She had the same type of jewelry elsewhere on her body. They were hidden by the dress and made Lia aware of a certain amount of fragility and femininity about herself.

With one last look, she made sure she had what she wanted, and made her way outside to the taxi.

As the taxi pulled up to the main door of the Musée Rodin, she paid the driver and confirmed with him to collect her a half hour after midnight. Events such as these, where she didn’t know many people, were hard work. Lia guessed her parents gave her their looks and money, but hadn’t managed to pass on their social genes.

She stepped into the entrance hall and marveled at the museum’s understated elegance. A staff member came up and collected her cape before Lia moved forward to a line to greet the Antonellis. After brief yet polite greetings and promise of more later, she stepped further into the museum where she was handed a glass of bubbling champagne.

The opportunity to view the work from a master sculptor without the usual throng of onlookers couldn’t be ignored. With a plan in mind and glass in hand, she wandered the ground floor rooms. She found it easy to appreciate the emotion Rodin had poured into his work.

Her stroll through the lower galleries was unhurried. Not many of the guests had taken advantage of the opportunity to view such incredible artwork as The Hand of God and The Kiss. The Walking Man brought her to a standstill. Many emotions had flowed through Rodin’s hands when he created the powerful striding forward, yet headless man.

Lia offered a polite smile to the waiter who offered her a fresh glass of champagne and exchanged her empty for a full one. Wanting to see more before the party truly started, she went upstairs and found it all completely deserted. She enjoyed spending time with The Thinker before continuing onward and mused over Fugit Amor, whilst sipping her champagne.

A muffled, shuffling noise drew her attention back to the doorway. There, standing in silhouette, was the man who took the lead in her most erotic fantasies. Walking into the light, she enjoyed his form in a traditional black tuxedo and bowtie. Kirk looked utterly gorgeous. If it were possible, the man was more potent than he had been in street clothes or his racing kit.

Silky mink brown hair, thick with a slight curl, danced around his head. Her eyes skimmed lower and stopped on his eyes, which were surrounded by long and thick eyelashes. His silky smooth tanned skin had often left her wondering what it would be like to stroke the soft flesh.

Was his chest as sleek as his face or did he have hair? It was such places her imagination often travelled.

With great effort, Lia brought her mind from the bedroom and back to the museum.

“Good evening, Kirk.” A small, unsure smile flitted across her lips. She wasn’t certain how to handle the man beyond the sittings they’d shared. In her temporary studio she’d been in control, but here, in a museum where she was in awe, she knew she was out of her element.

“Lia.” Brusque and to the point, he stepped further into the room and his hazel gaze held hers without blinking.

The perfect specimen of sexual magnetism moved closer than was necessary, being they were the only two people in the room. She looked up, and up. The top of her head reached short of his shoulders, and she asked the only question she could think of.

“Where’s your date?”

“I came on my own tonight,” he offered with a burr. The faint Scottish accent whispered across his words. Oh man, the guy oozed heat, and now she found out he was alone. Trouble was headed her way.

“Interesting sculpture.” Needing to diffuse the heat, she voiced a benign statement and hoped he’d pick up on the polite conversation opening she’d offered.

“I enjoy your pieces more. They’re peaceful, soothing, whenever I look at them.”

“Oh, well thank you very much.” The compliment surprised her, but also pleased her a great deal. She wasn’t sure why, but it did. Without seeing the sculpture, she tried hard to hold back her sigh filled with need.

After a moment, Lia knew the second Kirk left her side. Before she could say goodbye, he was standing behind her. A large finger started to ease down her bare back, only to slowly stroke back up. Air stopped in her chest when he stepped even closer, not stopping until his body rested flush against hers. Leaning over her shoulder, he gently nudged his nose against her ear. Without asking he took a quick nibble from the lobe, bringing a gasp to her lips.

“Do you feel me?”

Stunned, she nodded. Who could miss it? His hard-on was massive and had inserted itself right between her ass checks as if staking a claim.

“I’ve been sporting this steely erection since our first sitting. Do you know what a pain it is walking around with my cock standing at attention whenever it catches a whiff of you?” He nudged the stick between his legs a little further between hers.

“Oh please, each time we’ve met, there have been women ringing your mobile and another waiting outside for you to take them to bed. Nice try, but there’s no way you’re going without.” Yes, she was in lust. She may be stupid with desire, but she wasn’t going to fall for a womanizer’s flattering yet empty words.

“I don’t dally with anything new during the season. And Lia, the last race has officially finished, which means all bets are off. I can touch anything.” Gently his hands moved over her bare arms, spreading goose bumps across them.

“I see.” Not because her mind was wallowing in the morass of pleasure his presence heaped on her body. The heat with the press of his cock and his hot breath playing on her neck was unimaginable. Need reared its head and demanded immediate attention.

“Do you? I’ve waited for this event, planned your seduction, and designed the perfect way to get you into my bed. I know exactly how I want to fuck you for the first time. Yes, first time, because I’ll need many, many visits between your legs to appease my lust.” The final statement was accompanied by a subtle readjustment of his hard-on.

Leaning in again, he started to kiss her neck where it met her shoulder. My goodness, did he have to hone right in on my sweet spot?

“Your body wants my touch, does your mind? From what I understand it’s through the brain to please a woman. Tease her brain with words, tempt her with images, and she could be yours.” Moving his hands to her waist, he inched them under her arms, around and up, gently cupping her breasts. “These beauties of yours have haunted my fantasies.”

“Wait,” Lia said, unsure of what was happening. She needed a minute to gather herself. His touch was light, turned her on to new heights, making her shiver all over with pleasure.

“Don’t move,” he whispered and moved in to take more. Big thumbs stroked up and over each already excited, yet covered, nipple. “At the top of my list is to discover if your breasts are as sensitive as I think they are.”

Back and forth they strummed over the pebbled points, bringing them further and further forward, poking through the supple fabric.

“Yes,” she groaned, liking what he was doing and wanted more.

“Can I make you moan if I do this?” The first couple of fingers on each of his hands pinched before they tugged the eager tips.

A groan was all she could manage before her eyes started to close.

“Wonderful, I enjoy a vocal woman in the bedroom,” he said as he continued playing.

Lia could feel honey in her pussy thicken and threaten to slip from its heated depth. Acceptance of his domination over her body had been easy. Indeed, for him, it must have seemed as if she would fall on her back and spread her legs wherever he wanted. She reached back, put her hands on his hard butt, and pulled him closer to her body. Although it was a small move, it was enough to make her point.

He wasn’t the only one who could take what they wanted.

“Are your nipples large? I can feel the tips are tight, but I want to see if you have big areola surrounding beautifully pointed peaks. When I’d sit for hours in front of you I’d look specifically at your breasts. I would try and see if I could discern any of their finer details. There were times when your tips would poke straight out of your t-shirt and drive me nuts. My mouth would be watering by the end of our sessions, eager to latch on and suck, nibble and gnaw to my heart’s content. Are you eager for my touch?” What he offered was wicked and she wanted whatever he’d give her.

“Yes,” she murmured.

“Better and better. You’re a woman not afraid of her lustful nature and I like it. I think you were made for me,” he told her and she almost nodded. “Raunchy sex is what I want with you; can you handle me getting dirty with you?”

“I want nothing more than a full on fuck session.” She was truthful with him and honesty got her exactly what she hoped to get.

Releasing her breasts, he made a few twists of her body, and she was facing Kirk. His big hands held her hips as hers reached up to wrap around his neck. Through all the shifting, Lia had skillfully maintained a steady grip on her champagne glass. Leaning down, he kissed her full lips, and she wanted to sigh with all the pleasure he gave.

A cool, wicked tongue eased back and forth along the seam between the folds until she couldn’t hold anything back from him. They fell open to his ravishment. His tongue made a thorough search of her mouth, ending far too quickly with a tangling, thrusting kiss.

While her head was lost in their kiss, his hand slid through the slit in her skirt, around her thigh and up to cup one half of the split peach ass. Ultimately, his hand and wrist were hidden by the draped fabric of her skirt. It was a wonderful feeling, having a strong, powerful, gorgeous man touching her as she hadn’t been touched in years.

Four bold fingertips eased down her crack, ending with a mere brush against her pussy before starting on their return journey up. His thumb found the fine gold chain she wore low, around her hips.

It must have been curiosity sending his hand out, searching for more hidden discoveries, which he found. In his hand were a dozen fine gold strands hanging down from the waist chain. They each ended with various sized crystals and gently slapped against her inner thighs and mound when she moved.

“Lia, you’re a fucking sexy Pandora’s box. I’m eager to open you up and start discovering what gets you ardently scaling the wall to climax. More importantly, I want to hear you scream as you fall tumbling over the edge, again and again.”

“Let’s go back to my hotel room.” It wasn’t the first time she’d gone for what she wanted, but usually the asking was less abrupt.

“We will, my little ripe lass. We’re going to have such fun together. First, we have a party to attend, friends’ company to enjoy, and a new year to welcome before we fuck like rabid bunnies.”

With a last squeeze of her ass, Kirk started to step back from her grasp. Not willing to let him walk away from their encounter unscathed, Lia waited until he turned and motioned for her to precede him out the door and back down to the party. Only then did she lay a smart slap on his ass. Walking by, she looked over her shoulder, and gave as good as she could with her mind wallowing in the need to come.

“Then I suggest you conserve your energy and not drink too much. You might like it raunchy but I like it hard, loud, and often.”

After her parting shot, an easy laugh burst forth from her lips, and she looked back to smile at his look of surprise. Hard lust rushed across his beautiful features. Head held high, Lia sauntered out of the room with confidence only a woman who was wanted could manage.

“As far as I’m concerned, there’s nothing better than a saucy woman in need.” With a lecherous grin, he followed her swishing form, catching up with her in time to take her arm and rest it upon his, formally escorting her to rejoin the festivities.