She reached for him, catching the tail of his shirt and tugging. “Take me.”

“I’m planning to, honey. Just tell me how you want it.”

Her gaze flipped to Dane again as her lips curved into an enticing smile. “Make me beg.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Dane glance up at him. His friend had no idea who he was fucking but it wouldn’t matter. Dane was a pure sensualist. As long as it felt good, Dane didn’t care where the pleasure came from. And Dane knew Jared well enough to know how much he loved a challenge.

Jared let his own lips tilt just the slightest bit. “Be careful what you wish for…”

He pressed forward again, sinking into her tight sheath a tiny bit more, watching as her eyes closed.

“Oh, no.” He pulled out and her eyes flashed open. “You have to watch, baby. Don’t look away or you won’t get what you want. No matter what happens, you don’t look away from my eyes.”

Dane bit her at that moment, not hard but just enough, knowing it was exactly what Jared wanted him to do. Her mouth parted on a gasp but she kept her gaze locked to his.

He rewarded her by seating himself deep in one thrust.

Her blissful cry sent a sizzle of heat from his balls through his spine. Sweat popped onto his forehead as he started thrusting at a slow, deliberate pace.

His body wanted him to hurry, to pound into her and find his release. But Jared never let his body dictate his actions.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Dane glance at him, questioning.

Did he want Dane to put his cock in her mouth?

No, he didn’t.

He shook his head once, just enough of a motion that Dane got the hint. He could play but she was Jared’s. For now.

Dane’s eyebrows quirked up in surprise, then he released Belle’s breast for just a second to grin at him. Dane would want to know why later and Jared didn’t know if he’d be able to explain.

He only knew he wanted her to feel only his cock, to know only his taste. Dane was only there to add to the pleasure. Not benefit from it. Dane could find his own woman later.

Just not his Belle.

He thrust harder and faster, sweat gathering at the base of his spine and coating his skin with a fine sheen.

Still staring at him, Belle sighed on each exhale, the sound both tortured and filled with bliss. He had the caveman urge to make her scream his name as she flooded his cock with her juices.

She shuddered, her body clenching around him tight as a fist. Heat radiated from her, soaking into his skin until he felt like he stood under a heat lamp.

He barely noticed Dane. He only had eyes for Belle.

And she looked transported. Her eyes glittered brilliantly through her slitted lids, just barely enough for him to see. One hand left her hip to smooth over her belly and down to her mound. His thumb brushed against her clit, once, twice, then pressed the hard little nub until she squirmed, causing his cock to twitch.

His release imminent, he rubbed her clit harder and thrust faster, watching her face.

She was trying to hold on; he saw it in the lines of her face. He wanted to rip her control away. He pumped faster and a little harder, watched her gasp as the base of his cock hit her clit on each inward thrust.

Almost there.

“Come on, baby. Let go.”

She bit her bottom lip, drawing it into her mouth for several seconds before letting it ease out, glistening with moisture.

The sight sealed his fate.

His cock twitched and he felt his release explode through him. Hot cum spewed into the condom and, at that moment, he hated being confined. Then she cried out, wiping his mind of everything but the sight of her face as she came.

Her eyes closed then and her back arched, pushing her mound hard against his groin. Her sex squeezed him, milking him, and he stood there, knees locked against the quiver in his legs, watching her and letting pure ecstasy pour through his veins.

His eyes must have closed because when he opened them, he noticed Dane had gone and Belle was staring at him.

Her tight pussy still held his dick, her breasts quivered with each breath, and her smile nearly blew his mind. Again.

“Belle. Are you okay?”

He realized he was holding his breath and forced himself to relax as he withdrew.

Moist towels were stashed throughout the room, including the desk drawer. He should clean up. He didn’t want to move but he forced himself to do exactly what he would have done if this had been any other woman.

He reached for the drawer and cleaned himself off discreetly. He did the same for her as she lay there, watching him with those bright green eyes.

Then she smiled and he swore his heart actually tripped over in his chest. “I’m fine.”

Giving her his hand, he helped her back up to a seated position, smoothing her skirt down over her thighs and adjusting the top, the pin glinted in the light. He had the almost overwhelming urge to hustle her out of here, take her to his room and keep her there, locked away all night. All to himself.

But he didn’t know that she’d appreciate that. She looked excited, ready to have fun. And that had been the whole point in inviting her.

Fun.

Her gaze darted over his shoulder and he heard the hum of a soft conversation behind him. Others had arrived and he hadn’t noticed.

“Do you want a drink?” he asked. “Champagne?”

Her gaze flicked back to his and her smile curved again. “I’d love some.”

He held out his hand. “Then come with me and I’ll show you around. We got distracted. I didn’t get to show you my collections.”

She slid off the desk, fluffed her skirt and took his arm. “And what do you collect?”

Steering her away from the growing crowd on the other side of the room, where Dane was holding court, he led her to the first collection.

He watched as her eyes widened and a delighted smile lit up her face. “You have the Borel Les Mémoires de Saturnin series. Were did you find it?”

“From a dealer in France.” He pointed at the next set of framed etchings. “And the Carracci Loves of the Gods series.”

Like Belle, he had a collection of erotic artwork. Unlike Belle, his parents hadn’t been as tolerant of his less-than-acceptable—at least to his parents—interests as a teenager.

He’d learned not to upset his mother with his fascination with sex and all the ways in which you could do it. But he’d lived for the times he could royally piss off his father by throwing it in his disapproving face.

Who had no room to talk, the cheating bastard.

“How long have you been collecting?” Belle had moved ahead of him, her sharp gaze examining each piece thoroughly. She looked engrossed.

Jared wanted her again, wanted to bend her over the rolled arm of the nearest sofa and take her.

He was becoming obsessed. And that could be dangerous. And then there was that pin…

He shook off the thought. “When I was twenty-one and came into my inheritance from my grandparents. Every penny I made working for my father at his hotel went into an account for the day Tyler and I bought this place. Most of the money from my grandparents went into the hotel as well but I saw a Beardsley piece at a shop when I was looking for the furnishing for this room and I was hooked.”

“I’m not much of a Beardsley fan, but I do love Fendi. His work’s so bright and playful.”

She stopped finally before his most prized possession. She’d lost her smile but her expression had turned soft, almost yearning.

“You have an original O’Malley.” Her voice had lowered to an almost reverent whisper.

“He’s one of my favorites, though I only have this one original. I do have a few sketches but he’s hard to come by.”

“Some people only buy him because of the scandal attached to his name.”

He heard the question she didn’t ask. “Not me. His death was a tragedy. And his wife’s and lover’s.”

“You don’t think they deserved what they got? For the lifestyle they lived?”

He frowned, trying to figure out what exactly she was asking. And why? “Everyone’s entitled to live their life the way they want, as long as they don’t hurt anyone else. From what I know, O’Malley and his lovers never hurt anyone. All the nontabloid accounts of their lives say they were passionate, wild, and totally in love. All three of them. The woman who killed them should’ve just taken herself out. She robbed the world of a great talent.”

Nodding, Annabelle’s gaze practically caressed the painting of Catrina O’Malley and Danton Romero by Peter O’Malley. It was one of a seven-part series featuring Catrina and Romero in various sexual positions. Jared hoped one day to own all seven.

“She was beautiful, wasn’t she?”

He nodded, though he doubted Annabelle was expecting an answer to her question. “I think so, yes. And O’Malley painted her beautifully.”

“The right artist, the right muse.”

“Do you have any of his work?”

Now Annabelle turned her attention back to him. “A few pieces, yes.”

“Are they for sale?”

“No,” she said, and turned to continue her examination of the rest of his collection.

They talked art for a while longer and he held up his end of the conversation. But mainly, he watched Belle.

Others were arriving, a few couples already pairing off and heading for dark corners.

Belle didn’t seem to notice. Her entire attention was focused on the artwork. And on him. The thought occurred to him that she was avoiding the other couples.

Until she turned away from his collection and focused those bright green eyes on him.