Total Temptation (2 page)

“Howard Junior has all the pictures, and he's shown them to the judge,” she said. “Who's a member of his yacht club.”

“I see.” Madeline clucked her tongue. “Well. We practice strict confidentiality. My men know they'll be fired if they kiss and tell. The other patrons won't even see you here.”

That fit with everything she'd learned about the club. One of her friends had gotten tipsy at a party and mentioned privately to Cassandra that, as a young widow, she might want to try the place out. Even after too much to drink, Tina wouldn't give her many details for fear she wouldn't be allowed to come back if she said too much. She'd given Cassandra only an e-mail address and code word. Then Cassandra had waited to hear back that she'd been accepted. The whole time her anticipation and, yes, a certain amount of titillation had grown.

“Everything seems secure,” she said.

“Good. Shall we get Jeff for you?” Madeline asked.

“Let me look a bit . . .” Cassandra turned a page, and the rest of her thought flew right out of her mind. The man in the picture was like no one she'd ever seen. He had a fabulous body with broad shoulders and well-defined biceps, but she could have said that about all the men in the book. Unlike the others, however, he wore clothes that molded to his body—a snug T-shirt and leather pants. Rather than an affectation, the pants made sense, given that he sat astride a motorcycle. Spiky blond hair and a gold earring in one ear gave him a decidedly dangerous air, but what really made her breath catch was the expression on his face. The insolent smile on his ample lips and the light of defiance in his eyes suggested he'd like to eat her up and he knew how to make her enjoy it.

Madeline glanced at the page. “You found Bobby.”

“Yes, I think I did.”

“He could be right for you, although . . .”

“Although what?” she asked.

“Bobby's new, and he's a little rough around the edges,” Madeline said. “But, his clients have complimented him on his stamina, if you get my drift.”

That he wouldn't fade but could make the sex last for a good, long time. She almost melted at the thought. “Anything else?”

“He can be adventurous, but of course you decide what you want to do.” Madeline reached over and placed her hand over Cassandra's. “You're very nearly a virgin. Are you sure you're ready for a wild ride like Bobby?”

“There's one way to find out, isn't there?” Her mind may have hesitated, but her body had decided the moment she'd set eyes on his image. Bobby was everything she'd dreamed of ever since she'd learned she was a sexual creature with powerful urges. Urges that had never been fully satisfied. They would be tonight.

“I want Bobby,” she said. Possibly the first time she'd ever made a direct statement to anyone about what or who she wanted. Her first step toward sexual freedom.

“Bobby you shall have.” Madeline rose. “I'll show you to your suite.”

M
ADELINE HADN'T EXAGGERATED
when she'd called Cassandra's space at Club Ecstasy a suite. It included a small sitting room with a desk and shelves full of books, a walk-in closet that could serve as a dressing room, and of course a bedroom. She also had a private terrace with a hot tub. That would have allowed a view of the city if it weren't for the wall of bamboo curtains that ran around the perimeter. A shame, perhaps, but the barrier guaranteed her privacy. Still, some sun penetrated, allowing the potted cymbidium orchids to cover themselves in sprays of blooms. It was quite lovely and intimate.

As much as she craned her neck searching for prying eyes, it appeared no one even inside the restored mansion could see what went on, which meant she could climb naked into the hot tub, if she wanted. And she might just decide she wanted to.

She left the terrace and went back into the bedroom. After removing the jacket of her business suit and draping it carefully over the back of the chair at the dressing table, she stood in the middle of the room with her hands together in front of her skirt. What did one do in this situation? Get undressed and climb onto the bed? Surely, they'd end up there, probably rolling around on the huge mattress. Still, she and Bobby would at least introduce themselves before getting on to—whatever they got on to.

At least she could get out of her shoes. She'd worn low heels, but with her shaky knees, she wobbled a bit in them. If she did that, should she also remove her panty hose? Why did it all have to be so complicated? And why didn't he show up so she could get past these jitters? He must have dealt with shy clients before. Surely he'd have some way to soothe her nerves.

Finally, the outer door, the one to the sitting room, opened and closed, and then the man from the picture appeared on the threshold to the bedroom. Taller than she'd expected, he dominated the space around him. He wore jeans rather than leather, but they fit him like a second skin, the faded denim inviting her fingers to explore the muscles beneath. His T-shirt stretched over his chest. Not an ounce of softness on his entire body that she could see. Exactly what she'd hoped for. His blond hair was just as wild as in his picture, and the earring sparkled as if winking at her. His blue gaze settled on her, lingering on her breasts for a moment before moving to her face.

“Nice,” he said.

“Thank you.” The words came out on a croak, so she cleared her throat before walking toward him, her hand extended. “I'm Cassandra. I'd rather not use my last name.”

“We don't need names at all.” He took her hand in his, but instead of shaking it, he brought her fingers to his mouth and nibbled gently on the tips.

She could have laughed at the absurdity of having her fingers in a strange man's mouth if he hadn't given her exactly the look from his picture—as if she were something particularly tempting to eat. After a few seconds, she began to tremble, so she pulled her hand back.

His eyebrows rose. “Nervous, princess?”

“No, I . . . well . . . that is . . . princess?”

“That's what you look like to me,” he said. “The beautiful princess who's been locked in the tower her whole life. Let's bring you down to earth.”

He put his big hands on her hips and turned her around. Before she could protest, ask him what he intended, or ask what she should do, he moved his fingers upward and massaged kink after kink out of her shoulders and neck. Her muscles became pliant beneath his touch, and rather than trembling, she swayed backward toward him.

He put his mouth against her ear. “That's it, princess. Relax.”

“You do that very well.” Her voice had dropped a couple of octaves from its earlier croak, and even to her own ears, she sounded, well, sexy.

So when he lowered his lips to the space just behind her earlobe, she didn't flinch or jump but accepted the caress. As sweet as it was, the kiss lingered in that sensitive spot until her head grew heavy and tipped to the side, exposing her throat to him.

“Now we're talking,” he murmured. Reaching around, he grasped the ends of the bow that fastened the top of her blouse and undid it. That bared more of her skin, and he trailed kisses down her neck and onto her shoulder. She almost groaned with pleasure. This was exactly what she'd come for: pure sex with a man who knew what he was doing. She didn't have to worry about propriety or spying eyes. She could simply take whatever he gave her, and if this tiny sample indicated what he could do, she'd made the right decision.

Somehow, he'd made her surrender simple. No discussions or intellectual decisions. She only had to allow herself to enjoy his caresses. How could she not? His touch was exquisite. Just the right amount of pressure, kissing, nibbling, and touching her with his tongue. She leaned against him, silently asking for more and giving him permission to explore.

“I love the way you respond, princess,” he said. “You're making me hot.”

“Yes.” She'd agreed to something with that word. Who knew what? Who cared as long as he continued to set fire to her nerves?

“Oh, yeah.” His hands rose to cup her breasts and squeezed. Their first step across a sexual border, and it felt so good. Her flesh seemed to swell and press against her bra, becoming sensitive enough to ache with need.

“You like that?” he asked.

Instead of answering, she gave him a moan that turned into a sigh.

“Good.” He found her nipples through the layers of clothing, rubbing his thumbs over the peaks until they stiffened.

A conscious thought formed at the back of her mind.
I've become aroused
. And was she ever. This was what she'd imagined while reading the explicit parts of her novels. Sensuality that could pull you under, drowning out the real world and washing away any objection with its power.

Excitement like this shouldn't be possible. It should exist only in fiction, but here she stood, feeling the tug. Giving in to it. Letting it rob her of thought, of breath.

“You're amazing,” he said. “Let's see if you're wet.”

The word scarcely registered, but when he reached to her skirt and tugged up the hem, his destination penetrated the fog in her mind. She had no time to object or even to tense as his fingers brushed against the fabric covering her mound. They landed on the lips between her thighs, so swollen and sensitive. Her legs gave out, and she sagged against him.

With an evil laugh, he caught her around the waist and held her upright. “Let me guess. Panty hose and panties.”

“Oh, God.”

“I didn't think women wore panty hose anymore,” he said. “That's okay. I like a challenge.”

Challenge. She was a challenge. Whatever that meant as long as he didn't stop. He didn't. His hand returned to her mound, rubbing back and forth, back and forth. Heat swirled inside her, building.

“You're wet, princess,” he said. “All the way through your clothes. Damn, but I want to fuck you.”

She'd never used that word. Not once. She'd always thought it filthy. On his lips, it was the sexiest thing she'd ever heard. He wanted to take his erection out of his pants—
Lord, let it be big—
and put it inside her. Plunge it into the place that ached for it.

She'd have that, and the knowledge let her spirit soar toward the ceiling. She'd experience the glory of truly great sex. They could go all night until she couldn't stand any more. In the meantime, he kept pushing her toward orgasm without having removed an article of her clothing. She would climax. She'd passed the point where she'd have any choice. The only question remaining was how good he could make it.

Then his finger landed on just the right spot. The most sensitive flesh above the entrance to her body. Shuddering in his arms, she released a cry.

“Found it,” he said. “Let's get down to business.”

If business meant driving her wild, he already had her there. Now he severed her last tether to reality. A red haze surrounded her mind as he pressed against her hot button, stroking and rolling it.

Blindly, she clutched at his arm. “Don't stop.”

“Trust me.”

“Yes, yes. Just don't stop.”

He didn't. If anything, he increased the pressure against her, rubbing hard and fast. She throbbed now, each second closer to flying apart. The arousal tightened like a fist inside her. Just one more second, one more press of his finger. Here. Now. Now!

The orgasm started low in her belly and radiated outward to her whole body. Her throat opened, and she shouted as the spasms started in her sex. The waves came hard, each one cresting over the other until she hit the peak. She hung there for several seconds, and he never stopped his stroking until she'd finished and leaned back again, her head resting against his shoulder.

He eased her around until her face settled onto his chest. Beneath her ear, his heart raced. An odd fact she'd have to analyze when her mind was once again under her control. In the meantime, she could only wonder at the softness of his T-shirt against her cheek and the gentleness of his palms stroking her back.

When breath returned, she sighed. “Oh, my. That was . . . wonderful.”

“Imagine what I can do when we're undressed.”

Good heavens, he had a point. He hadn't undone anything except for the bow of her blouse. How absolutely bizarre. Howard had made love to her during the day, but he'd never come up behind her and given her an orgasm standing fully clothed in the middle of a room. He'd approached sex the way he'd approached everything: deliberately and with precision.

She stepped away from Bobby and glanced down at herself. Aside from her lack of shoes, she could simply do up the bow of her blouse and join polite company. No one would know what had just happened to her or the fact that her sex still fluttered with aftershocks.

Bobby crossed his arms over his chest and studied her face. “What's going on, princess?”

“Nothing.” Her cheeks warmed.

“You're embarrassed.”

“Why should I be embarrassed?” she said. “I came here for sex, after all.”

“Yeah, but it's not the same thing as getting your hair done, is it?”

She lifted her chin and held his gaze. “We should all try new things. Otherwise, we'll never learn and grow.”

He laughed. Loudly. “That's the most creative excuse I've ever heard for paying some guy to fuck your brains out.”

“I beg your pardon.”

“Personal growth.” He continued laughing. “Why don't you toss in a little Zen? We can practice some yoga later.”

“I don't see why you have to be so crude.”

“Crude is what you wanted.”

She straightened to her full height, not that it matched his. Not even close. “I did not.”

“This club is full of men who know how to make a woman happy. If you wanted refinement, you could have chosen any one of them who'd wear a tux and quote poetry,” he said. “You chose me.”