Complete Me (The Stark Trilogy)

business issue. An old girlfriend was not on my radar at all, and I’m certain I look as shocked as I feel.
    “I told you I used to fuck around. And I’m sure some of those women want back in my life.” He stands, then takes my hand and eases me to my feet before softly kissing my palm. “I also told you I wasn’t serious about any of them. There’s only one woman I want.”
    I cock a brow as I glance at his phone. “Do they know that?”
    “I know it,” he says. “And so do you.”
    For a moment, there is only silence between us. No, that isn’t true. Where Damien and I are concerned, there is never just silence. There is heat and electricity and lust and need, all harnessing the power of the universe to pull us together. And how can I be expected to fight physics?
    I step toward him, sliding comfortably into the circle of his arms, right where I belong. “Do you want to dance?” I ask.
    “No,” he says, his tone sending ripples of heat through me. “I want to take you to bed.”

7
    “So you’re really taking me to bed?” I ask Damien as we speed down Prinzregenstrasse in the back of our limo.
    “That’s my current plan,” he says. “Unless you want to file an objection?”
    “An objection? No.” I’m leaning against him, and the space between our bodies hums with sensual energy. The orgasm that rocked me at the club didn’t take the edge off at all. Instead it just ramped up my appetite like a fine wine before dinner, leaving me feeling slightly intoxicated and ready for the main course.
    I flash a mischievous smile, then shift my position so that I am kneeling on the floorboard of the limo, my hands resting on his thighs. “But perhaps I might file one tiny change order?” My fingers make swift work of the button fly of his jeans.
    “Nikki …” His voice is full of heat and amusement and a hint of warning.
    “What? I mean, fair is fair. You’ve never fingerfucked me in a club in Munich before tonight. And unless I’m mistaken, I’ve never gone down on you in a moving limo in Munich, either. That’s one of those oversights I want to remedy right now.”
    I slide my hand into his jeans, relishing his low groan as I stroke and tease, working my way into the fly of his briefs. He’s deliciously hard, and I only have to shift his cock a little before it springs free, as excited about the possibilities as I am. Slowly, I bend my head, but lift my eyes, so that I am looking at Damien’s face as I gently brush the tip of my tongue over his glans.
    I see the shudder that runs through him, and something swells inside me. Lust, power, possessiveness.
Control
. I know it drives him insane not to be firmly in charge. And I also know that of all the people in his life, I’m the only one to whom he willingly abdicates that control. In small doses, yes. But I still get my moments.
    This is one of them.
    “Dear God, Nikki,” he says, his voice tight. “Sometimes you surprise the hell out of me.”
    I only smile. I want to taste him, to touch him, and there is nothing keeping me from taking exactly what I want. Gently, I circle the base of his cock with my hand, the sensation like soft steel against my palm. I press my lips to the head of his cock, then draw him in, my tongue teasing him as I piston my mouth in time with the strokes of my hand against him.
    He is already desperately hard, but I feel his body responding, tightening. I hear his low groans. I feel his fingers twining in my hair, then the tension filling his body as he comes closer and closer, and I know that I am doing that to him.
    The knowledge empowers me, and I think of my earlier fears about reality sneaking in and breaking through our perfect little plastic bubble of a life. In this moment, though, my fears seem a million miles away.
    A ripple of passion cuts through him, and I feel the corresponding pressure in my sex as my body responds to his desire and to the knowledge that I have brought him to the brink.
    A sensual hunger courses through me, my own arousal as potent as if his fingers were stroking me. I writhe a bit, wriggling myhips in time with the need growing inside me. I am smug with satisfaction and ripe with the knowledge that Damien is as turned on as I am.
    And then I’m shocked as hell when his hands close around my ribs and he lifts me up—then dumps me back on the seat and hooks my legs over his shoulders.
    “What are you—” But I don’t bother to finish the question. I know exactly what