Making Mina: The Best Revenge

Tacie Graves

(2012)

Sex with a handsome stranger seems like the perfect revenge after Mina Hemingway walks in on her fiancé redefining the term "personal assistant." Marco Genovese has come to Miami from Italy to expand his resort empire. What happens when Mina decides the handsome billionaire is exactly what she needs to get back at her ex? Marco will have to decide either to play by her rules, or turn the tables and teach her that the best revenge is more than a one-night stand!

This is an erotic short story of approximately 8,500 words. For mature audiences only.

Their story is continued in Making Mina: Strings Attached, now available on Amazon!

Making Mina: The Best Revenge

By Tacie Graves

Copyright © 2012. All rights reserved.

Cold. Distant. Unresponsive.

Frigid.

Mina Hemingway glared down at the bar as she took a healthy swig of rum and coke.  Her ears burned from the insults Ethan had thrown at her.  She could still see him standing in their living room, clutching a pillow to hide his nakedness, lashing out—blaming her for coming home early, her for embarrassing him. She supposed it was also her fault that he didn’t take his very personal assistant to a hotel instead of fucking her in their bed.

Cheap bastard.

She didn’t buy into the guilt trip, but she wasn’t completely innocent either. She’d known something was up. There’d been too many late nights at the office or unexpected “business” trips, and while she might not be sexy, she was smart enough to know what that meant.  In the beginning she’d convinced herself it was her imagination.  Ethan was her college sweetheart.  He’d been her first—her only—and she just knew he wouldn’t do something like that.

Yeah right, Mina snorted and took another drink.

Then, she was ashamed to admit, she’d almost hoped he’d find someone else so she wouldn’t be the one to leave.  After four years together their relationship was safe. Comfortable. Leaving him would throw her whole life into chaos.

Mina hated chaos.

Their friends—his friends—would take his side without question.  Ethan had just finished designing another golf course; he’d been in seven magazines.  He was up and coming—the mind behind the newest, cutting edge courses.  No one would question him if he said he had to find satisfaction somewhere else.  They’d think she was lucky he was still going to marry her even if the sex was lousy.

And it was lousy. There was no question about that.  But even so, she never turned Ethan away and she’d have sworn he enjoyed himself.  They had sex at least once a week and when he fucked her he came quickly enough.  He always made ridiculous faces and noises and early in their relationship Mina learned to keep her eyes closed until he was done so she wouldn’t frown or laugh at the wrong time.  Afterwards he would kiss her sloppily and then roll away and fall soundly asleep.

Mina didn’t understand all the fuss.  Sex was messy and uncomfortable. She’d read enough romance novels to have had ideas about need and longing and overwhelming desire but even bringing herself to orgasm was disappointing.  There were no stars bursting behind her eyes or tingling shocks shivering through her aching body.

Nope.  Nothing.  Zip.  Zilch. Nada.

Frigid.

She threw back the last of her drink and felt it add to the little fire growing in her belly.  It wasn’t his fault that she was frigid, but damn it all, she deserved better than this.  If he wasn’t happy with her she’d given him more than enough opportunities to bow out gracefully.  But no, he had to lie and say he understood, that he loved her.  Loved her? Ha!  He couldn’t have loved her if he could do this.

The glass snapped down on the counter a little too loudly and she looked around to make sure no one noticed her little outburst of temper.   She shouldn’t have come to this bar; it was one of the places that she and Ethan used go.  It was close to his office—a place to see and be seen—and she recognized more than a few faces in the Friday night crowd.  She’d had a wild idea that she’d show up here and pick up a handsome stranger, leave with him and let the grapevine carry the news back to Ethan in the most embarrassing way possible.

She sighed and shook her head.  There wasn’t enough rum in the world to make that a good idea.  Speaking of rum, though.

“Can I have another one of these?” She pointed her finger unsteadily at her glass and the bartender gave her a measured look.  “No, it’s okay.  I promise.  I’m going to call a cab, but I just found my fiancé with his twenty year old intern’s legs wrapped around his head and I think another one of these is really in order.  Absolutely necessary, actually.”  She shook her head until a blonde corkscrew fell out of the sloppy knot at the back of her head and bounced in front of her eyes.  “I mean, alcohol is good for shock, right?  And it was a shock, I’ll tell you. I didn’t even know he did that.  At least he never did it with me.”

The bartender raised both eyebrows and poured her another—with extra rum.

“Thanks,” Mina gave him a wobbly smile.  “It’s okay.”  The bartender looked confused so she explained. “That he didn’t do it with me, I mean.  Not the intern thing, no. Fucking his intern wasn’t okay, but the other thing I understand.  I’m frigid, so it makes sense that he wouldn’t do things like that with me.”

A tanned hand appeared beside her, and her eyes unsteadily followed along its back, over a ridiculously gorgeous watch, and then over a spotlessly white cuff.  Like a bird hypnotized by a snake she couldn’t pull her eyes away. She inspected it closely, approving of its long fingers and the short dark hairs that disappeared under its sleeve.  Ethan’s hands were white and soft. Mina always thought they looked like unbaked bread dough, and the most exciting thing they’d ever done was wield a super pointy CAD stylus.  These hands looked like they belonged to a man.  A man who could do really exciting things with them.

She was so wrapped up in her fantasy about the mystery hands and what they could do that she almost fell off her bar stool when the man they were attached to spoke.

“Mi  scusi.  I couldn’t help but overhear a little of your conversation.” The hand she’d been watching so intently clenched a little.

Mina’s eyes flew up, hands forgotten, and she blood rushed to her face.  Sitting next to her was the most handsome man she’d ever seen, and the worst part was she’d seen him before.

“Mr. Genovese,” Mina’s voice cracked and she took a quick drink to clear her throat only to sputter at the burn of the rum.  “I didn’t see you there.”

Marco Genovese was the one that got away.  Not from Mina, of course, but from Ethan and the other golfer geeks at Patterson McGee Golf Architects.  The head of an Italian all-inclusive resort conglomerate he’d been wined and dined for weeks trying to persuade him to contract PGMA to design a new golf course for him in Miami.  Ethan dragged her along to one of the events and while Marco Genovese was being wooed by PMGA, Mina was trying to keep from being trampled by everyone who wanted to get close to him.

With his stylishly short curls and eyes so dark they looked almost black, she understood the attraction.

She’d been introduced briefly, unnerved by the attention he turned on her, and when Genovese had shown an interest in her Ethan wrestled her across the room and told her to flirt, to smile, to do whatever it took to make a good impression. For an hour she managed not to melt under the heat of that incredible focus.  It was like the whole world had fallen away and it was just the two of them. They spoke of art, and travel and Mina’s passion for museums and books, but nothing was said about golf courses or contracts and at the end of the evening Marco Genovese left without committing to anything and Ethan was terribly disappointed that she hadn’t had more success. Mina was certain that if she’d said flipping up her skirt and letting Genovese screw her on the dance floor would get them the contract, Ethan would have been happy to supply the condom.

The image was so clear and unexpected that it brought a deeper flush to her cheeks and she looked away, unable to meet his gaze in case he could read it there.

“Ah, Miss Hemingway, you must call me Marco,” he said with a smile and Mina was shocked that he remembered her name. “I knew I recognized you.  Such loveliness is impossible to forget.”

The compliment burned like an insult.  She knew she wasn’t beautiful. Too short and curvy to be fashionable, she was a pale shadow of the supermodels that flocked to him. Add that to the details he’d just overheard and the mocking was obvious. Mina squirmed on her seat, anger and embarrassment vying for control.  Anger won out.

“I’m sorry you had to overhear the gory details concerning the demise of my relationship,” her voice could have chipped ice, “But you shouldn’t make fun. It isn’t nice.”

Proud of that stunning set down Mina turned away and took a more careful sip of her drink, determined not to let this man, no matter who he was, make a bad situation worse.

“I was not making fun of you,” Marco’s voice was low and surprisingly gentle as he placed his large hand over one of hers.  “Although ‘nice’ is rarely an adjective I aspire to, I apologize if I caused you distress.”

For a moment she considered telling him off some more, but the rum was buffering reality nicely and Mina decided he was too handsome not to forgive.

“I was already distressed,” she said. She sighed and pushed the errant curl away. “You were just the cherry on top.”

A Technicolor image popped into Mina’s mind—whipped cream piled high with a bright red cherry glistening on top and those long, graceful fingers lifting it, dragging it across her lips until she opened and he popped it right in. The thought of those fingers brushing accidentally across her lips.  Those black eyes so intent on her.  It was enough to make her dizzy.

Or maybe that was the rum.

She shook her head to clear it, with little effect.  Oh well.

“I’ve never been called that before.” He shifted closer on the stool and Mina could feel the heat of him leaching through her silk skirt.  “I think you’re mistaken, though.”  Mina looked at him enquiringly. “Cherries are much too sweet.”

He gave her a dangerous smile and she believed him.  He didn’t look sweet at all.  Hot, and dark, and delicious, but definitely not sweet.  She squirmed a little more on her stool, heat pooling uncomfortably in her stomach.

It was too bad she was frigid.

“I beg your pardon?” Marco quirked an eyebrow at her and she realized she’d said that out loud.

“Oh my God,” she put a shaking hand to her face. “I am so sorry. Please, just ignore me. I don’t know what’s wrong with me tonight…” he held up a hand to stop the flow of apology.

“Enough.” His voice brooked no argument and Mina fell silent in spite of herself. “There is nothing wrong with you, and you are definitely not frigid.”

The anger in his voice surprised her.  Why should he care?  Mina opened her mouth to tell him it was okay, she’d accepted it, when his mouth claimed hers.  His kiss was fierce and demanding.  His tongue moved over her lips before sliding into her mouth, the taste of him mixing with the alcohol, and all her protestations disappeared as unfamiliar flames of desire threatened to consume her.

He drew back slowly, their breath mingling.  She looked deep into his eyes and for the first time in her life she wanted more.

This was what it was supposed to be like.  It was as if her whole body was on fire.  She’d never felt so alive and she leaned closer to him.  She felt those beautiful hands slide up her arms and grip her tightly, right above the elbows, pulling her closer, drawing her into his chest, into his heat.

Her nipples tightened against the fabric of her blouse, begging to be touched.  Wetness pooled between her legs and she rubbed her thighs together restlessly trying to soothe the ache there.  The heat of Marco’s hands burned through the thin white silk and she moaned deep in her throat.

What was this man doing to her?

“You see,” he said, satisfaction thick in his voice, “this is who you are.  Not some quiet little mouse, happy with crumbs of attention.”

He slid his hands higher, dragging his thumbs lightly across her breasts as he pulled his hands away.  Mina swayed in her seat, her body yearning for something she didn’t understand, and she watched as the satisfaction on his face turned into something darker and more intense.

Marco stood, filling the space between the barstools, and pulled his wallet out.  He threw a handful of bills on the bar and nodded to the bartender before turning back to Mina.

“It is time to go.”  When she didn’t move he stepped even closer, the scent of him strong and spicy, and she shivered as his breath caressed her ear.

“Go where?” she asked faintly.

He didn’t move; didn’t give her any space.

“Tell me, Mina,” he said, “what will happen if you stay here?”

Thoughts flitted through her head—drinking herself into a stupor, going home alone, probably crying herself to sleep.  She turned and looked at the room, noticing some of Ethan’s co-workers at a nearby table, remembering the sympathy on the bartender’s face and she knew she looked pathetic. She couldn’t even get revenge right.

Marco could sense her uncertainty and pressed his advantage.

“Now, tell me what you think will happen if you leave,” he leaned in quickly and nipped at her earlobe, “with me.”

Electricity arced across her skin, every nerve ending alive and tingling.  Her eyes widened in surprise, and she bit her lip as a little moan threatened to escape.  She remembered the legs wrapped around Ethan’s head and imagined what it would be like to have Marco Genovese in that position—her legs wrapped around his neck, those nipping teeth blazing a trail up the insides of her tender thighs, that silken tongue touching her in places no one had ever touched her before.

Suddenly every naughty idea she’d ever had seemed possible and it took her breath away.

Marco let out a dark chuckle and nuzzled her neck.  “Oh Mina,” he murmured, “You haven’t even scratched the surface.”

Mina knew she would never get a chance like this again.  She’d come here with the intention of picking someone up, and if Marco Genovese wasn’t exactly a stranger he still wasn’t a friend.  More than one woman was watching him, wondering why he was kissing the geeky girl at the bar. The sensuality radiating off him attracted them like bees to honey, and she knew that if she left with him Ethan would hear about it by tomorrow.

If that was the only thing she got out of it, it would be worth it.  If Marco Genovese could show her the pleasures he was hinting at, though, it would be worth much, much more.

Mina pushed herself out of her chair, allowing her body to slide down the hard length of his.  Marco’s eyes darkened and he sucked in a hissing breath as she pressed herself against him, her nipples poking insistently into his chest.

The rum made her brave and she looked him in the eye.

“Why me?”

Her voice was breathy and she wished she sounded more confident.  Marco weighed his response and Mina braced herself for him to change his mind, to realize that this was a waste of his time, that he could have any of the dozens of women around them.

Seconds seemed to stretch out forever as she waited for his response.  Instead of speaking, though, Marco wrapped her hand in his and raised it to his chest.  He held it there, trapped, watching her as she focused on the feeling of his heart, strong and insistent, pounding away under her fingers.  From there he slid their joined hands down, lower and lower, twisting just enough that the movement was obscured from the view of the other patrons of the bar.

Mina gasped as he tucked her hand around his cock where it pressed against the placket of his trousers, straining for release, hungry for her touch.  She gently squeezed, the impulse undeniable, and felt her arousal skyrocket as she watched his ridiculously long lashes flutter closed as he groaned in pleasure at her actions.

“That is why you.” He said it like it made all the sense in the world, but everything Mina knew ran counter to that.

“I’m sorry, but I still don’t understand.” Her mouth was dry and she forced herself to swallow. She watched his eyes as they followed the movement in her throat and shivered at what she saw there.  “You don’t even know me.”

“I know enough.”  Impatience laced through Marco’s tone. He wasn’t a man accustomed to being questioned, but he didn’t want to scare her away, so instead of arguing he bent his head and challenged her. “Follow me and I’ll prove it to you.”

Rage and rum had shoved Mina’s good sense into a closet leaving curiosity and desire in charge, and she felt them urging her to listen to this man, to trust him, to give in to the terrible temptation he was presenting.  She knew it was too good to be true, but how could she say no? He was exactly what she’d imagined when she was plotting this disastrous attempt at revenge—even who she’d imagined if she was honest with herself—and she felt herself nodding in agreement even as her intellect was screaming that this could only end badly.   As he wrapped her hand in his larger one and pulled her slowly to the end of the bar, she noticed the fingers that had started it all—sexy and purposeful and inexplicably entwined with hers—and she threw caution to the wind just so she could continue to hold onto them.

Their movement was camouflaged by the growing crowd, and she looked around for a door, or an exit sign, anything to indicate where he was leading her.  But instead of an exit he’d found an alcove. It was quieter than the rest of the bar and dark where it was so far away from the windows lining the street. Here they could see but not be seen and a mean little voice in her head pointed out that he didn’t want anyone to know he was with her, but rage pointed out that he was the one pursuing her, and rum said, “Who gives a fuck?”  so she ignored it.

“You said I didn’t know you.” He pulled her up tightly against his chest, turning away from the crowd to where only its distant murmur intruded.  “But I do. Do you remember the evening we met?”

He still held one hand in his and she felt him trace tiny circles on its palm with his thumb.  His other hand was gliding along her other arm, the tips of his fingers dragging lighting along the skin, each pass leaving a trail of fire in their wake.  When she didn’t immediately respond he tugged at her captive arm, bringing her back from being lost in sensation.

“Yes,” she said, “I remember.”

Mina remembered every minute of the time they spent together.  She remembered his questions and his rumbling laugh and the breathless way she felt when she caught him looking at her just so.  None of that, though, explained his behavior.  She was nothing like the women in his life.  Nothing he could want.

As if he could read her mind he gave her another shake, this one more insistent than the last, and she abandoned that train of thought.  Whatever she thought she knew before obviously no longer held true.

“I remember, too.”  His voice was sweet and dark and she felt it soothe her tattered ego as it poured across her like honey. “I remember watching you, wondering what you were doing with someone who took you so obviously for granted.”  His eyes traveled down, across her jaw, her neck, down into the shadow between her breasts, so hot they felt like they were scorching her skin. “I expected to be bored within minutes, but you kept surprising me. Testing me.” He brought his eyes back to hers.  “When you walked away I wanted to grab you and drag you back to me.”

Mina found it hard to believe what she was hearing.  He wanted her even then?

“I asked a few,” he tilted his head thoughtfully, “questions about you. You’d mentioned where you worked, what you did in your spare time—that sort of thing—but knowledge is power in my business, and I wanted to know everything about you.”

He wrapped his hands around her arms and the strength in them sent thrills skittering through her. She might question his interest but only a crazy person would question his power.  He gave her an approving look and she leaned into him unknowingly, like a sunflower following the sun as it passes overhead. His hands traveled across her back, stroking the tense muscles there until she groaned in pleasure.  He reached up and pulled the pins from her hair, the crazy curls falling in a heavy mass over his hands, and buried his face in them.

“So lovely,” he said, fingers massaging her scalp.  He tightened his grip and she sucked in a surprised breath at the feeling, the tug sending a jolt through her body.  Her fingers grabbed convulsively on his shirtfront, whether to pull him closer or hold herself up she wasn’t sure.

He trapped her hands there, pressing tightly against her to prevent her from pulling away, and made his own trek, fingers sliding over the silk covering her sides, down over the waistband of her skirt, skimming along the length of her thigh until he reached the hem, lifting it inch by inch until he felt the satin of her panties.

Long fingers traced along the stretchy lace, dipping and retreating until her breath was coming in ragged pants.  Finally tiring of his teasing dance he pulled his hand away completely and she let out a little mew of disappointment.  Her body was wound so tightly she felt like she was going to explode.  She was wetter than she’d ever been in her life and she ached with longing. Marco’s eyes met hers and her face flamed. She wanted to look away, to hide her reactions, but she couldn’t.  She tried to push away from his hard chest but he kept her pinned effortlessly.

“How does that make you feel?” He asked. He watched her intently and she flushed under his scrutiny.

“I…I like it...” Mina’s voice shook and he chuckled.

“I think you more than like it.” She swayed on her feet, self-preservation insisting that she should leave while she still had some dignity, but she couldn’t focus on anything but the pleasure he was bringing her.

“Yes,” she admitted.  Liking didn’t even begin to describe how she felt.

Marco nuzzled against the base of her neck, teasing the tendon there with sharp teeth.  She whimpered and he smiled against her skin.

“I want you to come with me tonight.   I want to hear how you feel.” He drew a line along her neck with the wet tip of his tongue.  “I want you to tell me what you like…what you want.”

Mina’s head was swimming and she barely managed a nod.

“Amazing,” he said, his voice rough with desire.  “The night we met I saw it. Such passion, buried so deeply.  Like a diamond—just waiting to be unearthed.”

Mina couldn’t believe what she was experiencing. This man had turned her on more in thirty minutes than Ethan had in four years.

“I had no idea,” she said.  Her body felt boneless and electrified at the same time.  “I never knew these feelings really existed.” She looked up in his dark eyes. “They were just fantasies.  Not things that could happen like this.”

Marco’s eyes heated at the word fantasies but he nodded his understanding. “You need someone with vision to show you.  Someone to bring your natural gifts,” he said slowly, “to the surface.”

He gave her a serious look.  “You will pardon me if I say that Ethan Masters does not seem like the kind of man who possesses that kind of vision.”

Mina snorted.  “Ethan has the vision of a mole rat,” she admitted.  “And the morals of a tom cat.”

A feral look crossed Marco’s face.  “A man like that deserves to be neutered.”

It was comforting to hear someone else criticize Ethan’s behavior. “I thought it was my fault,” she said, remembering the hurt. “I believed all the things he told me.  Every hateful, horrible one.”

Marco pressed a soft kiss against her lips and Mina melted into him.  His proximity was more intoxicating than the rum and she threw caution to the wind.  Sliding her hands up his body, she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him deeper into the kiss letting the reality of him burn away the pain Ethan caused.

Oxygen became a need too great to ignore.  Marco looked down at her, the banked desire he’d felt earlier fanned back into flames, and Mina could feel the heat of his gaze as it traveled over her face—her eyes, her jaw,  kiss-swollen lips.  She could feel his heart thundering under her hands, and feel the heavy thickness of his cock as it pressed into her stomach.

“I’ll make you forget him.” His breath was warm in her face, but his voice burned through her brain.  “When I’m through you won’t remember anything he said. You won’t even remember his name.”

The dark promise in his words sent shivers up Mina’s spine and she nodded.  It wasn’t just about revenge anymore.  If she didn’t grab this opportunity she knew she’d regret it for the rest of her life.

“All right,” she said in a whisper.  Her agreement unleashed a torrent of movement. The crowd melted away in the face of his intensity, and as Marco bundled her out into the street Mina caught the surprised eye of one of Ethan’s coworkers. Within seconds a long, luxurious car glided to a stop in front of them.  The realization that this man was rich enough to have someone circling the block waiting for him was lost in distraction as hot hands slid up along her back and then down over her bottom, cupping it possessively.  Marco wrapped his arm around her and guided her into the backseat and then climbed in gracefully after her.

Anything her voice of reason had to say was drowned out by the roar of desire in her blood.  For the first time in her life Mina wasn’t thinking about what made sense, she was thinking about what she wanted. She wanted Marco Genovese.  How could she not? He remembered her. He sought her out.  He wanted her.  She had no illusions. He was a playboy who spent more time in the gossip pages than Mina spent in the supermarket, and once he’d satisfied whatever urge was driving him he’d probably leave as quickly as he appeared, but for now  the wanting was enough.

“Stop thinking so much.” Marco pulled her towards him.  “I can hear the wheels turning in your head, always turning.”

Fingers traced patterns on her body and she sighed.

“You like to be touched.” It was a statement, not a question, but Mina shook her head.

“Not really,” she said.  “I’ve always preferred a little distance.  All this touching is a little disconcerting.” She gasped as a calloused finger grazed her nipple.

“You don’t need distance.”  Another statement. “You need to be touched.  Your skin blooms when it’s touched—blood rushes to the surface, your nerves come alive—and it becomes translucent with your pleasure.”

Another surge of wetness slicked her pussy lips at the subtle seduction of his words.  Mina imagined his hands, hot and hard, touching her everywhere.  Her nipples hardened.  Her clit throbbed.  Her body was on fire, clamoring for his touch.

“Do you like that idea?” Marco asked.  “Do you like the idea of me touching you? Stroking your fevered body?  Pulling pleasure from you until you can only beg for more?”

His fingers punctuated every word.  He traced rococo patterns along her arms, and swirls of pleasure along her ribcage.  He ghosted along her breast only to tap the nipple roughly making her cry out in surprise.

Mina nodded and Marco shook his head.

“What was that?” he asked. “I’m afraid I didn’t hear you.”  His hands wrapped around her waist and pulled her across his legs.  Mina wriggled his lap, her eyes wide with surprise.  Marco’s cock pressed against her, hot and insistent, and he growled as he held her tightly, preventing her from moving more.

“Dio Santo,” his voice was thick, “Keep moving like that and you might get more that you bargained for.”

The threat appealed more than it should have and Mina gave him a long calculated look before rotating her hips once more for good measure.  His eyes glittered dangerously and she braced herself for his retaliation when a gentle throat clearing from the front seat startled them both.

The car was idling in an underground parking garage.  Mina hadn’t noticed them stop, had no idea how long they’d been sitting there with the driver watching them in the rearview mirror.

“Mi diaspiace, Signore,” the driver said, never turning around.  “Ma siamo arrivati.”

Mina tried to remove herself from Marco’s lap to straighten her skirt but his hands held her tightly in place.

“Don’t worry about Angelo,” Marco said.  “He’s been with me since I moved to America.  He’s the soul of discretion.”

“I’m sure he is,” she said, carefully not looking at the man in question. Marco laughed.  His hands loosened and Mina immediately put as much distance as she could between them.  His eyes glinted in amusement and her face flushed again as she realized how silly her retreat must look to him.  He didn’t wait for Angelo, but let himself out turning back to Mina with his hand held out expectantly. She slid across the expanse of cooling leather and allowed herself to be ushered into the concrete cavern.  Fluorescent lights hummed softly and she could hear their footsteps echo as Marco directed her towards a bank of elevators.  The soft sounds of the car receded and she realized the driver was gone.  She was alone with Marco Genovese.

What was she doing?

The question rang through her mind.  She was logical. Cautious. She never did anything anyone would consider even remotely reckless.  At twenty-six had a job she loved, and until six hours ago would have said she was content with her life.

But that wasn’t true anymore.

“This way.”  Marco stepped up to the chrome doors and pressed the call button.  With every second that passed Mina could feel her heart beat faster, and when she shot a look at the man beside her she felt her breath catch.  There was something about him that was larger than life.  He strode through the building like he owned it, and he might for all she knew.  She felt like a tiny boat being swept along in the wake of a power cruiser and all she could do was hang on.

“Where are we going?” she asked as the doors opened.

“Up.” His eyes challenged her to question more.  She stood at the threshold and knew that if she took that final step her life would be irrevocably changed.  She met his eyes with a tiny nod and stepped forward.

The chime pinged.  Floor after floor whispered by and she waited. He was standing so close behind her she could feel him through the thin material of her clothes, but he made no move to touch her.  It was excruciating. Her nerves were stretched to the breaking point and she found herself trembling in anticipation as she watched the glowing number in front of her climb higher, afraid to turn and face him.

“Have you ever fucked in an elevator, Mina?” Marco’s breath was hot on her ear. His tongue darted out to flick her ear lobe and she jerked suddenly only to find her bottom pressed tightly against his erection. Images raced through her mind, each one kinkier than the last and she felt herself drip with wetness.

“No-o-o…” she whispered.  Her cheeks blazed in embarrassment.  She’d barely had sex in a bed.  The idea of sex in a public place was as alien as the moon.

The chime pinged for the penthouse and Mina took a deep breath, but whether it was relief or disappointment she couldn’t say.  She took too quick a step and almost fell, stumbling over her own feet only to be caught up in Marco’s arms again as he saved her.

“How is it you say?” He asked, eyes dancing down at her. “Saved by the bell?”

Mina flushed again.  He was laughing at her. She hated being laughed at.

“How can you be so sure?” She cocked her head to one side and looked at him.  “Maybe I was looking forward to sex in the elevator and you just disappointed me?”  She found her feet and pushed away from him. “All that time wasted.”

Marco’s laughter disappeared, replaced by a predatory gleam and Mina took a reflexive step back.

“All that time?” His tone was light but his eyes were obsidian chips. “Darling Mina, that was barely enough time to whet my appetite.”  Two strides closed the gap between them and Mina found herself staring up into his hard, handsome face.   “Tonight I intend to feast.”

Suddenly the reality of the situation slammed home and Mina panicked.  This was a terrible idea.  How could she have thought she could do this?  Sex with a total stranger?  Well, not a total stranger, but strange enough.  Marco Genovese was completely out of her league and this was going to end as badly as her engagement had.

“Marco,” she had to try twice before she could get her voice to work. “This is a mistake.  You can’t possibly…”  Her words were caught by his lips, his tongue blocking any protests she’d planned to make, and a new wave of desire washed away her reservations.  She marveled at the feeling of him, the taste of him, and opened her mouth wider, sliding her tongue tentatively along his.

“My only mistake,” he said when he finally released her, “was letting you go the evening that we met.” He pressed another fierce kiss upon her lips.  “I will not make that mistake again.”

Mina let out a little shriek of surprise as he swept her into his arms, his muscles rippling as they lifted her with seeming effortlessness.

“What are you doing?” Mina squirmed in his arms, “Where are you going?”  Marco didn’t answer he just strode purposefully down the hall.  When he reached the end and turned Mina’s questions died in her throat.

All around them the city lights twinkled.  Hardwood floors gleamed. Two Italian leather sofas flanked the fireplace—a fireplace!—while the city of Miami stretched out in every direction.  It was easily the most opulent space Mina had ever seen but Marco didn’t even slow.  His long legs ate the distance as he carried her through his home and Mina buried her face in his neck, almost afraid to reach their destination.

When he finally stopped, Mina felt his arms shift and tighten around her.  A muscle along his jaw clenched, and she could feel tension building in him.  Slowly he lowered her to the ground, trapping her body against his. Mina looked up and was caught by the conflict in his face.

“This is your last chance. Beyond this door, there is no going back.” He rasped. “If you want to leave I will not stop you.”  He pressed his hard length against her, “But if you stay I will make sure you will never regret it.”

The ferocity in his voice took Mina’s breath away.  No man had ever wanted her like this; it was a heady feeling. She reached out and stroked from his chest to his groin, sliding her hands along the tiny buttons that held his shirt closed.  Slowly, intentionally, she slid them back up again and began undoing those buttons, one by one.

Ethan had spray tanned and slathered on sunscreen to prevent wrinkles, his fair hair and pale skin a mark against him among Miami’s golden golf crowd.  Marco, though, had grown up in the Italian sun, a burnished bronze god. The difference was exciting, another new experience, and she splayed her fingers out against his skin just to see the contrast.  Dark hairs curled on his chest surrounding copper penny nipples.  Mina’s mouth went dry at the sight.  She wanted to drag her nails over his skin.  She wanted to lick those little nipples.  She wanted to touch and taste every part of him.

“What do you want?” Marco stilled, allowing her to control the pace, but she couldn’t find her voice.  A hard hand shot out and grasped her wrist stopping her exploration.  His grip didn’t cause her pain, but his hand was unrelenting and she couldn’t resist without hurting herself.

“Tell me what you want.”  His voice was deceptive.  It promised calm, cool rationality, but the intensity in his eyes told the lie in that.

Mina’s eyes fluttered closed, unable to look at him while she spoke.

“I want to touch you,” she whispered, her cheeks flaming.  “I want to taste you.”  She forced her eyes to meet his.  “I want to fuck you.”

Wicked satisfaction flashed across Marco’s face.  He drew her wrist to his lips, the movement slow and inexorable, and Mina shivered as he flicked his tongue across her racing pulse.

“So soft,” he murmured, his tongue traveling higher, “so sweet.”

Everywhere he touched burned.

“The night we met I imagined tasting you like this.  Discovering the secret places that cause your heart to race and your skin to flush.   I imagined sliding my fingers deep into you while I suckled at your beautiful breasts, and when that wasn’t enough anymore I would slide so deeply into you that you would never be free of me.”

A mewling cry escaped Mina’s throat and Marco let out an answering hiss of appreciation. He drew her wrist down and behind her back, forcing her to arch forward.

“Do you like that idea?” Marco cupped her breast with his free hand, squeezing the flesh through the silk of her blouse.  “My mouth on your body, my cock in your pussy, my name on your lips as you scream through your pleasure?”

“Yes,” she whimpered.  In a split second, Marco pushed his body against her, pinning her to the wall with his leg between hers.  Her skirt rode high up her leg and he skimmed her thigh with his big calloused palm until he was cupping her ass.

He fastened his lips over the pulse at her neck and sucked, scraping his teeth over the skin without breaking contact.  Her head lolled to the side to give him better access and another little whimper escaped her.  His tongue traced patterns along the tendons in her neck until he reached the hollow behind her ear.  He huffed gently and caused a wave of goose bumps to race across her body and she squirmed trying to escape the sensations, but Marco was having none of it.  He held her helplessly against him, release impossible until he granted it.

“Good,” he said, desire thickening his accent. “You are mine, Mina mia.  You have been since the moment we met.”  He lowered his head and gently covered her lips. He sucked her lower lip into his mouth, twining fingers tightly in her hair.

“I love the way you taste,” he whispered against her skin.  She was squirming again, but this time trying to increase their contact.  He tugged at his handful of hair and she gasped at the sensation as it shot through her, the tingling pain tied directly to her aching clit.  Marco dragged his whiskers across her chin and then further down, leaving a red trail on her pale skin to mark his passage.  “You never reacted like this for Ethan Masters, did you?”

Mina didn’t answer immediately, still lost in sensations, and Marco raised his head to look into her eyes.

“Did you?” he insisted.

The possessiveness in his voice startled her and she shook her head.  “No,” she said.  “I’ve never felt like this before.”

It must have been the right answer.  A deep chuckle surprised her as he loosened his grip on her hair, trailing his fingers down her neck and over her breastbone, finally reaching the top button of her blouse.  Her breath was coming faster, little panting breaths fanning his face, and the buttons melted away under his onslaught. His eyes were hot with passion and possession and her head spun, dizzy in anticipation.

He lifted his head to look into her eyes and smiled a dangerous smile.

“I told you earlier I would make you forget him.”

Mina had no doubt.  Her knees trembled beneath her and she was grateful for the doorframe holding her up.

“I should never have let you go,” he whispered, so low that she had to strain to hear him.  “You were so close it made me crazy.  Wanting to touch you, to taste you, to see if I could shake that iron control you had over yourself.”

His thumb was tracing a circle around her nipple, narrowing its path as the areola puckered beneath it.  The heat from his hand seared her skin and she shivered in reaction.

Light glinted in his eyes.

“You like that.  You like this too.”  His hair brushed against her flushed skin as he bent and took the pebbled tip into his mouth, and she couldn’t resist sliding her fingers into it, coaxing his head even closer.

“Marco, please,” she groaned, not really knowing what she was asking for.

“Please?” he asked.  “Please what, mia adorata?  This?” He rolled her other nipple between his fingers. “Or is this what you want?” he continued.  His hand slid between her legs and she was lost.  She gasped as she felt the wet lace of her panties being pushed down around her thighs, his fingers teasing until finally she felt them slide between her pussy lips.  She moaned softly. It felt so good.

“I love that sound,” he said, “but it isn’t enough.  I want to hear you louder.  I want to hear you scream.”  He looked into her eyes as he stroked her.  “Scream for me, Mina.”

His fingers were magic.  They stroked long and smooth while his thumb found her clit, wringing breathless cries from her throat.  She felt her orgasm building, tightening low in her body until even her feet were flexed in anticipation.

“That’s it, darling,” he murmured, “Give yourself to it.  Lose yourself in it.”

She did.  The sound of his voice pushed her closer and closer to the edge until the world exploded behind her eyelids and she thought she’d shatter into a million pieces.

“Marco…  Oh God, Marco,” the words were ripped from her as she was swamped with pleasure.  His eyes took in every breath, every movement, but it wasn’t enough.

“Oh, you beautiful creature,” he was murmuring again, his voice low and hot and determined, “that was incredible, but… I still want more.  I want to see you under me, thrashing in pleasure, begging for me—just for me.”

The images burned in her brain as he spoke, imagining what it would be like to have his weight pressing her into the bed, to have his heat surrounding her, pushing her to the edge of sanity only to drag her back by the fingernails until nothing existed but him.

“Yes, please.  Please, Marco, I need you.”  The words were out before she could stop them, but she knew them for the truth they were.  Her hands flew over him, gripping and pulling, desperate to touch him but not knowing how.  Her blouse had fallen to the floor and with the work of a moment her skirt joined it, Marco scooping her up into his arms only slowing to kick the bedroom door further open before striding across the room and dropping them on the bed.

“I’m going to make sure you never forget that,” he whispered in her ear.  “You’re going to feel me when you move and smell me when you breathe.  You are going to remember that you’re mine with every heartbeat.”

Mina shuddered under the weight of his words, and her heart began to pound so hard she was afraid it would burst.  Marco lifted himself, sitting back on the bed staring for a moment.  He stroked her legs from ankle to thigh, nudging her legs apart as he pushed higher, sliding between them until she was trapped under his body.  His fingers slid inside her and she groaned as she gave herself over to him again.  The heat and the weight and the sensation as his fingers slid wetly over her were more than she could stand and she began to writhe beneath him, searching for something, anything, to soothe the raging fire.

Her hands found their way to his shoulders, pushing his shirt off.  She felt his muscles moving under her hand, and then curled her fingers into his hair, pulling him closer.  His kiss was light and she shuddered, arching to feel her breasts against his chest, dragging her hands down until she could tweak and twist those copper nipples that had so fascinated her.  The sensation caught him off guard and he let out a groan of his own, pleasure clear on his face.  He moved away long enough to kick off his shoes and slacks and she cried at the loss of his touch, reaching for him as he lowered himself back over her.

“Did Ethan make you feel this way?” he asked.  Confusion clouded her face, unable to follow the sudden change

“Who?” She stuttered.

Triumph blazed in his face.

“Exactly,” and before she could take another breath, he plunged into her.

Mina shrieked in shock and pleasure as his cock filled her completely, and then there was nothing—nothing but the feel of him, the smell of him, the sound of his breathing.  She was drowning in Marco Genovese and she never wanted it to end.

She writhed against him as she burned and he kissed her hard, dragging little noises from her that could only be described as crazed.  She tried to wrap herself around him, to absorb him into every pore, and he thrust again and again, hot and insistent, splitting her softness and leaving her hot and slick and aching.

“Mina,” Marco groaned. “You make me mad with wanting you.  Give yourself to me.  Look in my eyes.  I want to see you come.  For me. Only me.”

He reached between them and found her clit, rubbing it with his thumb until she couldn’t hold back any more.  Wave after wave crashed through her of pleasure so intense it was almost painful and she screamed his name.  His eyes widened as he felt her pussy clench like a fist around him. Her muscles milked his cock and he loosed a guttural howl that shook the pictures on the walls.  Deeply stroking into her body, he rode higher and higher until finally he gave in to his own pleasure.  Each shuddering pulse of triggered another little spasm of ecstasy and Mina shuddered as he filled her with his hot come.

Marco’s body was heavy across hers and as she struggled to catch her breath she marveled at the rightness of it.  It should have been awkward.  She should be embarrassed.  She should want to leave.  Instead, she wrapped her arms tightly around his waist and buried her face in his shoulder.

“That was…” she tried to find a word for it. “Unexpected.”

There was so much more to it, but that covered the high points.

“Maybe for you.”  Marco gently rolled to one side, gathering her up against him.  “I, however, am an excellent judge of character.  I knew exactly how good--”

Mina turned her face away, not wanting him to finish that sentence.  Marco rolled over her quickly, though, and pinned her beneath him, forcing her to look at him.

“I knew how good we would be together.” He dropped a sweet kiss on her surprised lips.  “Do not look so shocked.  I told you I wanted this—that I wanted you.”

“I guess I just never thought,” Mina said, “I mean, I guess we proved I’m not frigid, but I never knew it could be like this.”

Marco shook his head.  He looked smug. “That is because it couldn’t.  You were with the wrong man.”

Mina huffed.  “Oh, and I supposed you’re the right man?” She meant it to be a challenge but it came out sounding wistful instead.  Marco didn’t seem to notice.

“Of course I am.”  He kissed her again and wrapped her in his arms.  Mina wiggled against him and he nipped at her shoulder. “I will prove it again later.”

“Later?” Mina asked.  She’d expected a revenge fuck—a one night stand.  She certainly wasn’t prepared for an “again later.”

“Yes, later.”  The voice behind her was dark with promise. “And again and again until you accept the truth.”

“There’s no ‘truth’ to accept,” she started to argue and he chuckled, the vibrations rolling through her and setting off tingles between her thighs.

“You think this is over?” He smiled condescendingly and she suddenly wanted to knock that smile from his face.

“Well, it’s over for me,” she snapped. “It was revenge, pure and simple. For what Ethan did to me.” She tried to scoot away from him but couldn’t escape the muscular arms around her.  “It was lovely, don’t get me wrong, but it was just revenge.”

Storm clouds darkened Marco’s face and she wondered if she’d pushed him too far.  He was lying half on top of her, his face inches from hers.  She could feel his heart pounding against her breast and his cock hardening against her thigh. He gave her a little shake and she met his eyes, surprised by the depth of emotion there.

“I let you go once.”  She felt his words resonate between them. “You are deluded if you think I am going to do it again.”

Mina thought he was the one that was deluded.  She didn’t belong in his world, and it was only a matter of time until he figured that out.  If that delusion meant she got to keep him close to her a little longer, though, she wasn’t going to argue.

“So,” she cleared her throat and prayed she wasn’t going to regret this. “Again later.  Right.”

THE END

***

(For now!)

Mina and Marco will return in Making Mina: Strings Attached!

About the Author

Tacie Graves isn’t schizophrenic; she just writes what the voices in her head tell her to. Living in the middle of the Midwest with her husband and two children, her days are spent in a whirlwind of activities that always somehow lead back to her writing desk and the sexy stories that come alive there (which can be difficult sometimes when she has to explain why she’s looking at the pool guy just so.)  She writes erotica for every woman because we can all use a little extra spice in our lives sometimes.  Oh, and because the voices told her to.

Making Mina: The Best Revenge.  Copyright © 2012 by Tacie Graves.  All rights reserved.

No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or any other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher.

This book is a work of fiction.  Names, characters, places and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or are used facetiously.  Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

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Cold. Distant. Unresponsive. Frigid. Mina Hemingway glared down at the bar as she took a healthy swig of rum and coke.

About the Author