Claimed for the Master's Pleasure (Guilty Pleasures #5)(18)
Chapter Twelve
The next morning, 9:30 a.m.
Lia woke with a start. Unable to recognize her surroundings she sat bolt upright, her heart pounding. Her breathing returned to normal when she realized she was in Jake’s apartment, and in his bed no less. Jake was nowhere to be seen. Had he already gotten up? They couldn’t have had more than two hours of sleep. She reached for her watch on the bedside table. After squinting for several seconds, the hands slowly came into focus—nine thirty. Fuck, she was late for work again. Christ, that would be two days in a row. Most likely she’d get fired, or at least receive a written warning.
Well, even if she did lose her job, she’d had the craziest, most erotic night of her life, and she didn’t regret a moment of it. The hours she’d spent between the sheets with Jake Benetti had blown her mind. She plucked the telephone from the bedside table and began dialing. Best bite the bullet now and call work. At least she’d be able to gauge the reaction of her boss before she arrived late.
A familiar voice burst down the line. “Claremont Fitness Center. How may I help you?”
“Megan, it’s Lia. Can you tell Brad I’m running a little late? The car’s broken down,” she lied.
“Yeah, sure thing, Lia. I’m sorry to hear that, honey. About time you got rid of that piece of crap you call a car. It’s totally unreliable.”
“Tell me about it. I’ve called vehicle recovery and a cab to get me into work. Christ only knows what all this is gonna cost me.”
“Think positive, Lia. It might not be as bad as you think. Oh, yeah, by the way Brad wants to see you as soon as you come in. He seems a bit pissed.”
“That’s all I need,” she said quietly before clicking the line dead.
Lia leapt from the huge circular bed. She never did like Brad much. Truth be known, she thought her manager at the fitness center was a sanctimonious little prick. He was an unimportant little man, doing an unimportant little job. The exact opposite of Jake Benetti. Anyway, she wasn’t going to worry about it now. Not when she was still enjoying the afterglow of the most fantastic sex she’d ever experienced. Jake’s powers of recovery had been unbelievable. They’d f*cked four times last night. During intercourse—hot, sweaty, intense intercourse—he’d whispered in her ear exactly what he would like to do to her. He’d explained it in graphic detail. Christ, her * was still wet, all these hours after he’d told her. Just the thought of Jake using shibari on her made her want to see him again. Phew, his sheer force of personality and undoubted charisma had her eating out of his hand. Goddamn it, she’d even given him her telephone number. She knew it was crazy given the circumstances they found themselves in, but when Jake’s hard cock had been deep inside her she’d been unable to think clearly and rationally. Anyway, what harm could it do? They were both consenting adults.
With no time to waste, Lia dashed into the en suite bathroom, and took a quick shower. When she returned to the bedroom she noticed a large gift-wrapped box lay on one of the chairs. What the hell is this? A folded piece of paper lay half-hidden by a large red bow, decorating the expensive-looking package. Lia slipped the note out from beneath the ribbon.
Lia,
Thanks for a truly wonderful evening.
Please accept this small gift as a token of my appreciation and respect.
I’ll call you.
Jake
Excitedly, she undid the decorative red bow, and lifted the lid. “Oh, my God, Jake. It’s beautiful. This must have cost you a fortune.” Beneath several layers of tissue paper lay an expensive black designer dress, similar in style to the one Jake had ripped from her body the night before. Lia laughed out loud when she thought of how she would have looked leaving the casino in her torn dress. Jake had also ripped off her panties, too, and she noticed he hadn’t replaced them. She guessed that Jake, being Jake, had done that on purpose. It probably gave him a hard-on thinking of her returning home without any underwear.
Lia stepped into the dress, noting the Italian designer label. Valeria Marini. This must have cost a fortune. It fitted perfectly, too. Trust Jake to get it right. She looked for her other possessions. Her shoes and purse were nowhere to be seen. With bare feet she padded from the bedroom and into the most sumptuous living area she’d ever seen. The room simply dripped with luxury. Designer furniture, exquisite, handmade carpets, and fine paintings by original artists gave an impression of unlimited wealth. Jake certainly knew how to live. She briefly wondered how many other women had seen the inside of his penthouse apartment, before dismissing the intrusive thought. Huge floor-to-ceiling windows gave uninterrupted views over Vegas. Last night she’d barely noticed her surroundings. Now they unnerved her. Just who was she kidding? Jake was a seriously wealthy and important guy. Ordinary women like her were mere commodities to a man like Jake Benetti. She had no doubt he was quite capable of using and discarding women without a second thought. As she moved toward his personal elevator, she noticed the stack of casino chips he’d given her last night. Neatly piled on the expensive coffee table, they looked very inviting. She was tempted to scoop them up and place them in her purse, and then cash them in downstairs. Jake had told her there was fifty grand in total. Something inside her stopped her doing it. Instead she picked them up and dropped them into an unassuming little vase that stood on the coffee table.