Breathless for Him (Davison & Allegra) Read online

  While I love seeing him in the custom-fitted suits he wears for work, seeing him like this makes me want to curl up with him on a sofa, wrapped in his arms while we’re watching a movie or just listening to music. He looks so different—a good kind of different. I’m so aroused already, my heart beating rapidly in my chest, my core already clenching with need.

  “Allegra,” he whispers, extending his hand to me. “Come in.”

  “Hi,” I reply sheepishly as I take his hand and step into his apartment.

  Still holding my hand, he kisses it, brushing his lips across my knuckles.

  “Let me take your coat. Please make yourself at home.”

  As he puts my coat away, I look out across the large open space. The cream palette of the living room furniture contrasts against a black-stained wooden floor. A large Rothko hangs on one of the walls. Floor-to-ceiling windows line two sides of the living room. A female voice is singing bossa nova over hidden speakers.

  I walk over to one set of windows, where the view takes my breath away. I can see the Statue of Liberty and Ellis Island from where I’m standing. Ships and ferries cross back and forth across the Hudson River.

  “Davison, this is amazing,” I tell him excitedly over my shoulder. “You’re so lucky you can look at this view every night. Do you ever just stand here and just marvel at it all, the beauty of it?”

  When he doesn’t reply right away, I turn around. He is standing frozen in place, his eyes set on me like a laser.

  Then he walks to me, his jaw tight. He pulls me into him, his lips prying mine open. It takes me less than a second to reciprocate as his tongue tangles with mine. I can sense how relaxed he is, taking his time to explore my mouth oh so slowly, so languorously. I sigh from the pure pleasure of being in his arms, melting into them. We kiss for a few minutes until he shifts to look into my eyes.

  “Hi,” he rasps.

  I quietly laugh. “Hi yourself.”

  “You look gorgeous, baby.”

  I can feel my face redden. “Thank you. I feel overdressed actually.”

  “Are you hungry?”

  “Starving. Whatever you ordered, it smells delicious.”

  Shock crosses his face. “‘Ordered?’ I cooked myself.”

  Now it’s my turn to be shocked. “I don’t believe you.”

  He raises his hand. “I swear. I hope you like filet mignon.”

  “What? No grass-fed Kobe beef?” I joke.

  His face sinks. “Oh…umm…well, I can cook something else…”

  I clamp my hand over my mouth. I can’t believe it. I actually hurt his feelings. I feel horrible.

  I cup his face in my hands. “Davison, I was only joking. I’m the daughter of a butcher. Of course I love filet mignon.”

  He smirks at me. “I’ll get you for that, Orsini.”

  “Looking forward to it, Berkeley.”

  * * *

  I’m now pleased to know something about him that the tabloids don’t—he is a very skilled cook. The filet mignon is cooked to medium-rare perfection, accompanied by baked potatoes and French-cut green beans.

  Now holding hands at one end of his long glass-top dining table, Davison and I are enjoying the last of the Bordeaux he served with dinner.

  “You are quite a revelation,” I tell him.

  “How so?”

  “I never expected you to be such an amazing cook.”

  He tightens my hand in his grip. “I’m glad I can keep you on your toes.”

  “You definitely have that going for you.” I smile at him. “I’m surprised you live downtown and not on the Upper East Side.”

  “To be perfectly honest, our offices are down here, so I can walk to work if I want to. I like living in this area because I can be myself.”

  “Maybe that’s why you chose this building—because of its name. An apogee is both the highest point of something and the farthest point of orbit for an object from Earth. I think that describes you to a tee.”

  He tilts his head curiously at me, silently indicating for me to continue.

  “Well, because you’re ambitious and you’ve achieved so much, but you live your life on your own terms.”

  He smiles slightly. “You know something? Nobody has ever made that observation before. Not even me. I never thought of that. You…”

  “What?”

  Davison brings my hand to his mouth, brushing his lips against it, and stands up from his chair. “I’ll be right back.”

  He walks over to the coffee table in the living room and picks up a remote control. He aims it at his stereo system and presses a few buttons.

  As he walks back to me, I can hear soft music begin to waft over the room. He reaches out to me with his right hand.

  “Dance with me.”

  Pushing myself away from the table, I place my hand in his and let him lead me to his living room as Bryan Ferry’s smooth voice begins to sing “Avalon.”

  Davison wraps his arms around me as we sway gently to the music. I lay my head in the crook of his neck, shutting my eyes and taking in the scent of him, which is intoxicating me. When I pull my head back to see his face, he is looking right at me, his eyes soft, full of so much emotion.

  “This song…it’s how I felt when I first saw you, baby,” he whispers. “I knew I was missing something in my life, and then when I saw your face…that was it. I was done. And now I’m happier than I’ve ever been in my life. Nobody has ever gotten me before like you have. I always want you with me.”

  I softly kiss his lips as his hands move to rest on the curve of my backside.

  “I’ve never felt like this with anyone,” I murmur. “It’s so overwhelming that it scares me. But the thought of not being with you is…just…I can’t even think about it.”

  He kisses my forehead. “I’m not going anywhere. Ever. You’re mine.”

  As the last notes are played, he releases me from his grip, save for my left hand. He leads me down a long corridor, making a left at the first door.

  A huge California King bed stands against the far wall, taking up a considerable portion of space in the room. The dark wood of the black headboard stands out against the white bedroom walls. The bed is flanked by two nightstands made from the same wood. One side of the room is all doors, hiding his closets and wardrobes.

  Davison leaves me at the threshold, walking over to a black suede sofa in a corner of the room. He settles down on it, crossing his right ankle over his left knee.

  “Come to me,” he whispers.

  I slowly stride in his direction when he suddenly calls out, “Stop.”

  As I wait for his next command, I’m not nervous. For once, I’m not in control. The relief of it excites me. I’m becoming wet from the anticipation.

  “Take off your dress.”

  I do as he asks, letting it fall to the floor.

  “Your bra.”

  I reach around and unhook it, removing each strap slowly. As the bra slips away from me, I softly run my thumbs over my nipples.

  “Don’t touch yourself. Leave your boots on and walk to me.”

  I cross to him, stopping within inches of his knees. He yanks me onto his lap, straddling his legs. He pulls me to him to kiss me, teasing my lower lip with his tongue, then entering my mouth as I feel his hot breath on me, tasting me again, taking his time.

  Still kissing me, he begins to run his hands up my body from my waist to my chest. I shiver at his touch, sensitive in certain spots.

  When he reaches my breasts, he caresses them from the bottom, swallowing them whole with his hands, kneading them with his fingers. I softly moan, dropping my head back, my eyes closed as I revel in his touch.

  Suddenly, he retreats from my mouth, and I feel his lips on my right breast. He starts to suckle me, gently at first, then more insistently. I press his head to my chest, encouraging him further. He groans like a beast savoring his meal.

  Without warning, Davison scoops me up with his arms and, with a roar, shoots up from th
e couch and thunders over to the bed, holding on to me the entire time.

  “I have to have you now, baby,” he rasps lustily in my ear.

  He sets me down on the edge and starts to quickly unzip one of my boots. I reach for the other one, but he stops my hand.

  “No. I’m doing this,” he insists.

  He takes off my boots and pulls me up to take off my panties. Fully naked, I bring his face to mine and kiss him hard.

  Then he rears his head back slightly. “Get on the bed, Venus.”

  I grin naughtily as I scurry up onto the delicious cotton sheets, lying back against the sham pillows.

  I lick my lips with anticipation as I watch Davison take off his clothes. Once he’s divested everything, my eyes widen and I snap my mouth shut once I realize it’s dropped open.

  His chest is hard and tanned, his nipples pebbled against his pecs. His abs are sculpted to perfection. He is bare but for the line of dark hair down his muscled torso, marking his happy trail.

  And I want to travel that trail down to his…

  Oh my God…

  His cock, long and lengthened, is pointing upward, engorged and eager. I can already see a dot of pre-cum at its tip.

  I swallow in my throat, nodding to his shaft. “Harvard, that thing is going to tear me apart.”

  He starts crawling onto the bed, his eyes boring into me, smirking mischievously. “It won’t, trust me. But even if it did, I’m the one who’s going to put you back together. Because you’re mine.”

  He’s on his knees now in front of me, close enough now for me to run my hands over his body. I stare at it in wonder, from his solid chest and hard nipples, down to his torso, running my fingers over his abs, feeling the crevices in between.

  My hand travels to his cock. I take it in my hands, feeling its heat and smooth texture.

  I look up into his hooded eyes. “You’re beautiful, Davison.”

  Davison moans. “That feels so good, baby. Keep doing that.”

  I continue to let my hands roam over him. He reaches down with his right hand to my cheek, caressing it so softly.

  “Oh, Allegra,” he whispers. “Your hands feel amazing.”

  I glance up at him, and his head is lolled back, his mouth open in rapture.

  I keep on stroking him when he says, “Lie down, baby.”

  I fall back and relax, watching as Davison moves over me on all fours while his eyes study me, hungry and hooded.

  “Do you have any idea how exquisite you are?” he murmurs.

  I shake my head.

  “You take my fucking breath away,” he growls.

  My heartbeat starts to quicken at his words. “Davison, I want you inside me. Now.”

  He falls on top of me, his mouth traveling all over my body, sucking, biting, licking. He reaches down to my cleft, completely soaked, waiting for him.

  I watch from the corner of my eye as he reaches over to the nightstand. I hear him open the drawer, slam it shut, then the tearing of foil.

  I feel the mattress dip as he rushes back to me, his body over mine. He puts two fingers into my cleft. “You are so wet. So ready for me,” he moans.

  He takes out his fingers, and then plunges his hard cock into me. We both groan loudly at the feel of our bodies finally joining together. I clench around his shaft. As he fills me fully, my sex slowly adjusts to the size of him.

  His face hangs over me. I can feel his hot breath on me. “Fuck, you are so tight. You feel so good.”

  With his hands clamped in mine, he starts to thrust his cock into me, again and again. The feel of him inside me is glorious. I want him so much. I coil my legs around his back, locking my ankles together. I look at him, and he is the image of a Greek god, his solid chest slick with sweat, his magnificent abs clenched together.

  His cock pummels my sex. “Harder, Davison.”

  The sound of our fucking echoes throughout the room, the slapping of skin against skin and the primal moans that howl from our lungs. His hair is sticking from sweat to his forehead, his eyes open and burning into mine.

  “Come for me, baby. I’ve fucking fantasized about this moment,” he pants.

  He takes his right hand, reaching down under him to my clit, rubbing it between his fingers.

  “Yes, Davison. Please…” I beg.

  Suddenly, I feel it. The wave is cresting, and I’m riding it so hard, it’s about to overtake me…

  It feels fucking incredible. My body shudders as my pussy clenches him, and I see bursts of light behind my closed eyes.

  “Davison!” I shout from pure release.

  He starts to pump into me even harder, his breathing rapid. “I’m so close, baby.”

  I’m still shaking when Davison cries out, “Allegra!” as he finishes coming. His cock still inside me, he collapses onto me, our panting breaths united in rhythm. I wrap my arms around him, my hands slipping down his back to his firm ass.

  He turns his head to my ear. “Allegra,” he whispers.

  “Yeah?” I pant, wholly sated, smiling contentedly.

  “I’m never letting you go.”

  Chapter Nine

  I’m standing in front of Professor Waltz and the five members of my Wagner class, including Luciana. I clear my throat, take a deep breath, and begin to sing Brünnhilde’s war cry from Act Two, Scene One in Die Walküre.

  As Brünnhilde, I’m warning my father, Wotan, of the arrival of his wife, Fricka, in her ram-drawn chariot. I stand up straighter, and a sudden wave of confidence comes over me. I take deeper breaths from my diaphragm as I’ve been taught to do, my arms extended dramatically as if I actually were warning my own father of impending doom.

  I sing the final line and look out at my audience. Because he’s known for his stern demeanor, I’m shocked when a smile crosses over Professor Waltz’s face.

  He starts to clap. “Brava! Brava, Miss Orsini! I don’t know what has caused this improvement in your performance, but whatever it is, keep it up! And on that note, class dismissed.”

  I walk back to my desk to get my bag and coat. Lucy strides over to me with a knowing look in her eyes.

  “You can’t fool me. I know what’s caused the ‘improvement.’”

  I shrug on my coat. “Really? Do tell.”

  “You and Money Boy had sex!”

  I pull her in closer to me. “Shit, Lucy, keep your voice down!”

  “Calm down, will you?” She laughs. “Everyone’s gone, and you’re glowing. I’ve never seen you like this. I want details.”

  Just thinking of what had happened with Davison in his apartment two days ago makes me smile. It wasn’t just the sex and mind-blowing orgasms he’d given me. We connected in a way that I never had with another man before. Davison is a primal creature, but he is also tender and loving, something that attracts him to me even more despite my attempts to fight it. And Lucy can see this written all over my face. “He cooked me dinner, we danced—”

  “Whoa! Wait a sec! One of the richest men in Manhattan actually cooks?”

  “Yeah, and he’s pretty damn good at it too. In fact, he’s pretty damn good at everything.”

  Lucy settles into a desk chair. “This is too much. Keep going.”

  I sit down across from her. “It was amazing. Actually, ‘amazing’ is too tame a word.”

  “Let me try. Wild, sensational, sheet-clawing…am I close?”

  I smile, nodding my head.

  She slaps the desk with her hand. “Oh my God! You’re killing me, Alli! But I’m so excited for you.”

  “He’s just…I can’t put it into words. I just love being with him. But I’m scared.”

  Lucy reaches over to touch my arm. “Of what?”

  “Like everything is happening too fast, and I’m starting to care too much for him when I know I probably shouldn’t.”

  “Don’t think like that, okay? Stop freaking out and just enjoy it, sweetie.”

  I smile in return. “I’ll try,” I tell her, trying to reassure myself
as much as her.

  * * *

  Le Bistro is busy as usual that night. I barely have a minute to myself when I hear a chirp from my purse. A lull in customers gives me a chance to check my phone.

  It’s a text from Davison.

  Baby, I’m stuck at the office. I probably won’t make it to the restaurant tonight. Charles will drive you home. Call me before you go to sleep so I can tell you what I’d be doing to your wet pussy with my hard cock if you were lying next to me.

  “Is that from Davis?”

  A shrill voice causes me to raise my head. Ashton is standing at the coat-check door.

  Since it’s not any of her damn business, I simply shove the phone back into my purse and walk over to her. “Can I check something for you?”

  “No, but I suggest you check your status on the society ladder, because you seem to be under the delusion that you’re dating Davis.”

  Why do I suddenly have the feeling he hates being called that?

  “I could say the same applies to you since he broke up with you.”

  “No, dear, he didn’t break up with me. We’re engaged. He’s just stringing you along.”

  I make a point of looking down at her left hand. “If that’s true, shouldn’t you be wearing a ring?”

  “The marriage has been arranged for years. Our families are old friends.”

  “That’s funny. The last time I checked, we were living in twenty-first-century Manhattan, not nineteenth-century England.”

  “You poor thing. You really are deluded, aren’t you? Check the top drawer of his desk at home the next time you’re there. He just bought the ring for me at Cartier.”

  I stare back at her, my eyes not wavering for a moment. I refuse to let her see me fall apart in front of her as she delivers her final blow.

  “You’re just a distraction. Family comes first for him. Always has, always will. Enjoy the ride, because it won’t last much longer.”

  She flips her hair over her shoulder as she slithers away, the lingering scent of her noxious perfume assaulting my nose.

  I brace the door, gripping it with my hands as firmly as I can to control my breathing.

  Hearsay. That’s all it is. Hearsay.