“Who says I need help?”
Tally snorted. “Your eyes say it all, darling. And the fact that Ian left a meeting with Devril and Lucian to make you scream loud enough to bring down the rafters and echo into the office was clue enough. They called me, of course.”
Courtney blinked back at her as she automatically braced herself at the next turn.
“They called you?”
“Of course.” She shrugged. “We’ve been waiting for this for months. Ever since Ian learned you were visiting he’s been like a bear with a sore paw every time it was mentioned. You mean something to him, Courtney, but he’s fighting it. Ian could easily cut his own nose off to spite his face. His friends aren’t willing to watch that happen.”
There was an edge of warning in her voice. “And neither are you, I assume?” That question was filled with more than casual curiosity.
Courtney narrowed her gaze on Tally, reading more now than a friendly invitation to anything. This was a carefully thought-out outing, with Tally Conover in the lead.
“So what was your plan?” She sat back in her seat, watching as Tally shot her a knowing look before she turned her attention back to the road.
“Ian’s fall, of course.” Tally shrugged. “Let’s just say that Ian deserves to be toppled from his little seat of icy splendor. He should be as tortured and as tormented as he claims our husbands are. Now, when he taunts them into their little adventures to torture and torment us, he’ll think twice about it.”
“What will you do when you can no longer plot Ian’s downfall?” Courtney suddenly laughed. She had a feeling Ian had given the women she was about to become very close friends with, just a bit of hell.
Tally flicked her a glance rife with mocking enjoyment. “We have a list, darling. His name wasn’t exactly the last one on it.”
Now that sounded like fun.
“So today is a plotting session so to speak?” she ventured with no lack of amusement.
“That’s a good description.” Tally nodded, obviously restraining her glee. “A plotting session. The first of many.”
There wasn’t a chance in hell Courtney was going to miss out on this.
“Then let the games begin,” she laughed, suddenly more optimistic than she had been before leaving the house.
These women knew Ian, if nothing else, through their husbands. They would have the information she needed to hold the advantage she gained today. And right now, Courtney knew, she needed every advantage she could steal from him.
“She has left with Ms. Conover, sir. Should I have her followed?”
Ian stood silently before the wide windows of his office, his hands shoved in the pockets of his slacks as he frowned out at the dreary, cold day.
“Don’t bother, Jason,” he sighed. “Tally would know they were being followed and she would cause as much of a fuss as possible.”
“If I may say so, sir. Ms. Mattlaw is proving to be a bit of a wildcard. I believe letting her out unattended could turn into a catastrophe.”
Ian snorted at the understatement.
“Catastrophe would be a mild word if she learned she was being watched. As long as she’s with Tally, she’s reasonably safe.”
He was aware of Jason’s bafflement at the initial order of the security measures he had placed Courtney. He had been unable to help himself. The past was a demon he couldn’t seem to shake, no matter how hard he tried.
“Was her safety in question, sir?” Jason’s tone was concerned now.
Ian sighed wearily, pinching the bridge of his nose as he closed his eyes and pushed back the need to find her, to order her back to the mansion.
“Her safety is not in question, Jason.” At least not yet. Not from anyone other than himself and his desires.
“Very well, sir.” Confusion radiated from the butler. “Shall I inform the Misters Conover, Wyman and Mr. Andrews that you will resume the meeting soon? They have expressed some question as to whether or not the previous business discussions have been concluded.”
He shook his head, turning back to the butler slowly.
“They’re in The Club?”
“Yes, sir.”
“I’ll join them there. Please let me know when Ms. Mattlaw returns.”
“I’m certain the sound of the commotion will reach your ears before I can scurry to your location,” Jason harrumphed.
“I’m certain you’re right.” An unwilling smile tugged at his lips at the thought. “But make the attempt in any case.”
“Yes, sir.” Jason inclined his head before turning smartly and leaving the room, returning it once again to the oppressive silence which had filled it before his arrival.
You’re so depraved, Ian. I sold my soul into hell to be your woman. To what end? This is my end.
Once again, written words seared his memory.
He couldn’t control the need, the hunger. It was eating him alive, as it never had before.
He could see it, he could almost feel it.
Courtney’s sexual appetite was strong, blistering in its heat. He could see her, her eyes dazed, pleasure consuming her as her lips opened in a scream, sandwiched between him and Khalid.
The half-Saudi would complement her passions, his patience. His control would match Ian’s as they drove her past any boundary of pleasure she could have known.
He wanted to play with her. He wanted to watch her writhe on the bed, retrained, pleading, gasping for release as he and Khalid drove her past any restraint, any conscious control. He wanted, f**k, he needed—hungered—to see her reach that point where she cl**axed from not more than a breath against her clit, a lick to her nipple. Where her body was so sensitized, so aroused, so perfectly attuned to the pleasure they could bring, that when they pierced her snug channels, the orgasms would roll through her, a continual progression of release that would stroke, milk, convulse around their burrowing cocks.
The need was overshadowed only by the memory of the last woman who had loved him. It was a pleasure he had wanted her to know as well.
He hung his head, breathing in roughly as his shoulders bunched with tension.
He had taken many women to his bed, experienced women, women who sought nothing more than that peak and went eagerly, too eagerly, toward it. He had thought that would be enough. It wasn’t.
Courtney would fight it. She would beg, scream, curse his control and attempt to break it, whether she knew the end result or not. It was a part of her nature. She would never give him that part of herself without a fight, without a challenge to his dominance.