Secret Confessions: Backstage – Yanis Read online

  His dark eyes flared again with that ambiguous light. “I disagree, Carson.”

  It was the first time he’d called her anything apart from Ms Swift. It did things to her she couldn’t understand. Things she couldn’t deny.

  Wanton things.

  Impatient, hungry things.

  “I think,” he went on, rising from the desk to stand directly before her again, his thighs brushing hers, “I know everything. I think you control every aspect of your life with such a resolute hold because the one thing you can’t control is what you want. And you may have convinced yourself that earlier flash of cleavage was to unsettle me, to give you the upper-hand, but we both know you got off on it more than you were prepared for.”

  Carson’s heart smashed into her throat. A soft gasp escaped her before she could stop it. She stared at him, unable to move.

  How was it possible? How had the bastard seen into her very soul and found that which no other man had? And more to the point, what did she do about it?

  He lowered his head closer to hers, his lips curling into a haughty line. “The difference between you and me,” —his gaze held hers—“is I am confident enough in myself to acknowledge I got off on it as well. And want more. So much more.”

  She drew another breath. At the junction of her thighs, her clit tingled with traitorous lust. “How much more?”

  Jesus, did she really just ask that?

  Yanis’s nostrils flared. “I want to strip you of everything but your stockings and stilettos and eat you out right here on your desk.”

  Carson drove her nails into her palms. She choked back a whimper of raw capitulation. Refused to break their stare. Inside, her heart pounded like a sledgehammer. Her belly knotted and rolled and twisted. Her pussy moistened… “Just that?”

  A muscle ticked in his jaw at the derisive tone of her question.

  Oh God, was she really baiting him?

  Yes. You are. Because you want him to do to you everything his eyes promise. You want him to meet you in your sexual hunger, a hunger you’ve never released.

  He drew his head closer to hers. “Let’s start with that, shall we?” he murmured.

  ***

  His blood ran molten in his veins. Yanis wanted to believe it was the impending collapse of a rival that made it so. Wanted to believe it was his rage at Carson throwing his impoverished childhood in his face that spurred on his consuming need to possess her. In doing so, in making her surrender to his sexual mastery of her body, of her pleasure, he was taking control of their working relationship. Shifting the status quo.

  But his rage had nothing to do with it. He knew that. Deep down in the vulnerable shadows of his conscience, he knew that. Just as he knew it had nothing to do with their immediate and on-going clash of wills over the running of The Screaming Tuesdays’ tour.

  The fire in his body, his veins, the thrumming steel in his cock, the heavy need in his balls had nothing to do with business or pride, and everything to do with base, elemental desire.

  She turned him on like no other woman he’d ever met. On every level, she aroused him. Intellectually, mentally, physically.

  And he couldn’t resist her any longer.

  Holding her stare, he raised his hands to the buttons of her shirt.

  Without any body contact at all, he released the top one.

  The second.

  Carson’s eyes widened a little. Her breasts rose and fell once as she pulled a slow breath. Apart from that she didn’t move.

  He moved his hands to the third button.

  Released it.

  A hitching whimper—almost inaudible—fell from her lips. Her pupils dilated.

  Fighting the urge to lower his gaze, he dropped his hand to the last button of her shirt accessible above her skirt’s waistband and undid it. Slid his hands inside the silken material and parted it without touching her skin. Exposed her breasts and the lacy bra cupping them to the room.

  Carson swayed toward him. A little. Enough for their thighs, their groins to brush together.

  He ground his teeth, knowing there was no way she could miss the engorged pole of his erection as it nudged the curve of her sex.

  Still without allowing himself to look at her breasts, he tugged the hem of her shirt free of her skirt.

  Her breath fell from her in a shaky gasp. She didn’t break eye contact. That alone made his cock harder.

  Stepping closer to her—so close his chest rubbed hers—he snaked his hands behinds her back and lowered the zip of her skirt. A slow inching down of the toggle.

  Carson’s breasts rose and fell, the pebbled points of her nipples scraping against his chest. The sensation sent tight need into his groin. His cock jerked.

  Fighting the eager impatience of his body, he smoothed his palms over her hips, hooked his thumbs between her waist and the now loose band of her skirt and pushed down.

  Gravity reached for the garment the second it passed the curve of her hips, and it fell to her feet.

  Yanis forced himself to keep his focus on her face. The moment he allowed himself to look at the flesh he’d revealed, he’d be completely lost to his lust. Lost to the hunger she awoke in him.

  With a soft moan, Carson stepped out of the pooled skirt.

  He waited until she stood motionless before him again, now dressed only in her open shirt, underwear, stockings and shoes.

  Wordlessly, he smoothed his palms over her ribcage, trailing his thumbs over the side-swell of her breasts, before sliding his hands up to the front of her shoulders.

  She swayed again, her lips parted, her eyes ablaze with a hunger he too felt burning in his core.

  Slipping his fingers beneath the silk of her shirt, he inched it over her shoulders.

  There was a whisper of fabric moving over flesh, and then her shirt fell to her feet.

  His blood roared in his ears. His pulse pounded there as well, a thumping beat rivalled only by the throbbing steel in his cock.

  Neither moved for a long moment, the only sound in the room their breaths, long intakes of air and ragged exhalations that betrayed the statue-like calm of their bodies.

  And then, without preamble, Yanis fisted a hand in the hair at her nape, yanked her head backward and took possession of her bowed throat with his mouth.

  “Oh yes,” she moaned, snagging her hands in his hair as she pressed her hips to his.

  Pain and pleasure sheered through him as the curve of her sex ground against his erection. He punished her with a biting suck to her neck, grabbing her arse as he did so.

  At the sensation of warm skin under his hand, his brain told him she wore a g-string a second before Carson scraped her nails through his scalp and pleasure seared away the thought.

  He moved his lips lower, exploring her collarbone, the tiny dip of the base of her throat. She moaned, rolling her hips with increased pressure. Her fingers tugged at his hair. Scored his scalp. Dragged over the back of his neck.

  She flattened her hands on the tops of his shoulders and pushed.

  Sucking in a sharp breath, he straightened away from her flesh and chuckled down into her face. “Tell me what you want me to do, Carson.”

  Breath shallow, she glared at him. “You know what I want you to do.”

  He smoothed a hand up the side of her torso and dragged his thumb over one of her distended nipples. She gasped, eyes fluttering closed for a second. “I do,” he said. “But I want to hear you say it.”

  “I want you to suck it.”

  Yanis teased her nipple again with his thumb. “Suck what, Ms Swift?”

  Impatient irritation flashed in her eyes. “Bastard.”

  He chuckled. “We’ve already established you don’t like me, Carson. Now we’re establishing what you want me to do to you.”

  She fixed him in a stare. “I want,” she said, grinding her pussy against his trapped erection, “you to suck my nipple.”

  Yanis raised an eyebrow. “Now, that wasn’t too hard, was it?”

&
nbsp; Murderous anger etched Carson’s face. And yet, there was no denying the raw pleasure and desire in her eyes. “Fucking prick.”

  “That’s the first time I’ve heard you swear,” he said, circling her nipple with his thumb before giving it a gentle tug.

  She hissed in a breath. “Please, Drakos.” The plea left her on a whisper. “Suck my—”

  He moved, wrapping his hands around her waist, lifting her feet from the floor and depositing her onto her desk.

  A surprised noise burst from her. He captured it with his mouth, the kiss savage and dominating.

  She met him in his ferocity, her tongue battling his, her hands clawing at his shoulders.

  When she wrapped her thighs around his hips, her shoes falling to the floor with a soft clunk, and locked her ankles behind his back, he tore his lips from hers.

  “Yanis…” Pleasured pain filled his name as it fell from her lips.

  He lowered his head. Explored her throat. She arched, her hands in his hair trying to direct his mouth to her breast.

  He didn’t surrender to the wordless request. Instead, he explored every inch of her torso, her arms, her belly with his lips, teeth and tongue.

  She cursed him, the words hitching breaths and guttural growls. When he nipped a slow path under the swell of her breast, his lips so close to her nipple he could feel its tip trace against his cheek through the lace of her bra, she shuddered, her nails gouging into his scalp.

  The pain of her touch, coupled with the raw need in her voice and the undeniable perfume of her pleasure on the air sent fresh blood to his already swollen cock.

  Lifting his head, he smiled down into her face. “How much do you hate me right now?”

  She met his stare, her own lips curling as a choppy laugh escaped her. “A lot.”

  “What if I do this?” he asked, before closing his lips around her left nipple and sucking. Hard.

  “That’s it,” she cried out, arching beneath him. “Oh yeah, that’s—”

  He pulled away from her breast with a popping suck.

  She cried out, this time in frustrated denial. “Damn you, Drakos.”

  He laughed. “Tell me again what you want me to do.”

  She shot him a dark grin, even as she pulled his groin closer to hers with the pressure of her bent legs wrapped around his hips. “Go fuck yourself.”

  A rush of delight at her biting humour and feisty strength made Yanis’s head spin. She was exquisite. An argumentative, opinionated woman who didn’t cower from him like so many people in his life. A woman who knew what she wanted. Who was willing to struggle against her pride in his company. To acknowledge her desire, her appetite in the presence of a man she’d sworn never to surrender to.

  Christ, she wasn’t just exquisite, she was perfect.

  Rolling her nipple between his fingers, he arched an expectant eyebrow.

  Her lips curled wider. “Suck my fucking breast, Yanis. Now.”

  He did as she instructed.

  Hot pleasure lashed at him at the contact of her lace-covered flesh against his lips, under his tongue. He feasted on her nipple through her bra, laving it with his tongue, nipping it with his teeth.

  She moaned, once again burying a hand in his hair, her other hand raking over his shoulder.

  He continued to worship her breast, kneading its companion with ungentle fingers, his mind revelling at the heavy fullness filling his hand.

  “Oh God,” Carson moaned above his head, her heels digging into the small of his back as she ground their sexes closer together. “That feels so good. So good.”

  He moved his mouth to her other nipple, drawing on it with hungry suction as he sought out the clasp of her bra.

  Finding it, he unclipped it with deft skill, chuckling against her flesh as she let out a joyful groan.

  A heartbeat later, the hand in his hair balled to a tight fist and she yanked his head up. Held his stare with hers as she wriggled her free arm from the strap of her bra.

  He pulled in a steadying breath. Counted to five, and then released it as he lowered his attention to her now naked breasts.

  “Stunning,” he declared, cupping each one with a reverent hand.

  She hummed a thank you, arching into his caress.

  And let out a hitching gasp as he claimed her right nipple with savage hunger.

  He sucked on her flesh, moving between nipples, worshipping one and then the other. Over and over. Never relenting.

  When Carson began to scrape at his shoulders, her body trembling, her cries thick with pleasure, he tangled a hand in her hair and increased his worship of her nipples.

  “Yanis…” she panted, writhing on the edge of her desk. “I think…oh Jesus, I think I’m going…I’m going to…”

  Without raising his head from her breast, he slipped a hand between their bodies and rubbed her clit through the lace of her g-string.

  “Oh God, yes! Yes!” She bucked against his hand, her thighs locking tighter around his hips. The lace of her crotch grew warm, moist. The air grew heavy with the scent of her release.

  It detonated a base hunger in Yanis. A driving urgency to claim her juices as his own.

  Snaring her wrists, he yanked her hands from his body and, without preamble or word, stepped free of her thighs and shoved them wide.

  For a split second, he allowed himself the raw pleasure of the sight of her pussy, glistening with her come behind the prison of her lace underwear, and then he surrendered to the need consuming him and tore her g-string apart.

  Carson gasped.

  He didn’t care. Tossing aside the destroyed lace item, he buried his face between her spread thighs and plunged his tongue into her sodden seam.

  She bucked again, driving her heels to his shoulders. “Oh fuck yes,” she groaned.

  He laved at her clit, nipped it, sucked it.

  She writhed some more, her cries filling the room. Raw and ragged and ripe with pleasure. Demanding he keep going, ordering him to not stop.

  Shifting his stance, he raked his hands over her hips, shoved her thighs wider and plunged his index finger into her drenched pussy.

  Her inner muscles contracted around his finger. Fresh cream flowed from her. She thrust her hips upward, grinding her clit to his tongue.

  He tortured it, wild lashes with his tongue as he wriggled his finger deeper into her wet heat.

  “Oh god, I’m coming again!” Carson groaned, surprise filling the words, her heels hard on his shoulders. “I’m coming a…”

  The rest of the word disintegrated into a keening cry as another shudder wracked through her.

  Yanis’s mouth filled with the honeyed musk of her release. Her heels slipped from his shoulders and her cry turned to whimper.

  “Holy crap,” she panted as he licked at her folds. “Holy crap, that was good.”

  Raising his head, he cocked an eyebrow at her. “Should I be offended that you sound so surprised?”

  She chuckled, chest heaving, face flushed. “Be offended. I didn’t think you had it in you.”

  Yanis burst out laughing. “Liar.”

  Raking a shaking hand through the tumble of mess that was her hair, Carson grinned. “One multiple orgasm does not a sex god make, Drakos. Not even one as utterly Greek as you.”

  “In that case…” He straightened between her thighs, closed his hands around her waist and yanked her across the desk.

  She let out a yelp, the surprised sound turning to a laughing moan as he flipped her onto her belly so she was bent over the desk.

  “Have you ever had your arse fucked, Ms Swift?” he asked, smoothing his hand over her right butt cheek. Her skin was so warm, so velvet-soft under her palm. It sent tight licks of delight into his already engorged cock.

  Carson grew still.

  Yanis let his gaze move to her pussy, its pink, swollen lips telling him just how thoroughly he’d pleasured her with his mouth. Moisture still glistened on her flesh, and without thought, he lowered his head and licked a
t it.

  A soft moan escaped her. She wriggled her butt a little, an invitation he doubted she was even aware of.

  “Have you?” he prompted, straightening again to study her profile as he smoothed his palm over her butt and hip and up to her back.

  In his trousers, his cock strained against his boxers and the zipper of his fly.

  He couldn’t recall the last time he’d been so hard. So ready to bury himself into a woman’s flesh.

  Not just any woman. The woman you’ve done little but rail against since arriving in the US. The woman who’s occupied your damn near every thought when you should have been thinking of the boys, their needs…

  The thought sent something cold through him.

  Something unsettling.

  Just as he’d never been harder, he’d never been as distracted.

  His work was his reason for existing. Sex had always been just a means of relieving tension in his body. It held no control over him. Like his daily five-kilometre run and session in the gym, sex was a detached way to exercise away the needs of his body that distracted him from his job.

  And yet, from the moment he’d stepped foot in the States, he’d thought of sex with Carson Swift.

  No, not since setting foot in the country, even before that. From the first FaceTime conference he’d had with her months ago, when they’d clashed over The Screaming Tuesdays’ first venue booked for the tour, he’d found himself wondering what her skin would feel like slicked with pleasure-created perspiration. What those direct blue eyes of hers would look like clouded with desire…

  She’d been a distraction from the beginning.

  And Yanis Drakos didn’t do distractions.

  He hadn’t risen to the powerhouse force of the Australian music industry that he was by being distracted. He hadn’t risen beyond his conservative, Greek upbringing in a jingoistic Australia by being distracted.

  He hadn’t left behind the poverty of that upbringing, with its days of ridicule from the other students at school at his ratty uniform, and nights without parents because both were working late shifts at the only factories they could find employment, by being distracted.

  Distractions achieved nothing.

  Not even distractions as sensual, as arousing and intriguing as Carson Swift.