The Seduction of Cassidy Flint
Page 1
* * *
Siren Publishing, Inc.
www.sirenpub.com
Copyright ©2008 by Samantha Lucas
First published in 2008, 2008
* * *
NOTICE: This work is copyrighted. It is licensed only for use by the original purchaser. Making copies of this work or distributing it to any unauthorized person by any means, including without limit email, floppy disk, file transfer, paper print out, or any other method constitutes a violation of International copyright law and subjects the violator to severe fines or imprisonment.
* * *
THE SEDUCTION OF
CASSIDY FLINT
Samantha Lucas
EROTIC ROMANCE
* * * *
* * * *
Siren Publishing, Inc.
www.SirenPublishing.com
ABOUT THIS E-BOOK: Your purchase of this e-book allows you to one LEGAL copy for your own personal use. It is ILLEGAL to send your copy to someone who did not pay for it. Distribution of this e-book, in whole or in part, online, offline, in print or in any way or any other method currently known or yet to be invented, is forbidden without the prior written permission of both the publisher and the copyright owner of this book.
THE SEDUCTION OF CASSIDY FLINT
Copyright © 2008 by Samantha Lucas
ISBN: 1-933563-98-2
First E-book Publication: January 2008
Cover design by Jinger Heaston
All cover art and logo copyright © 2008 by Siren Publishing, Inc.
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission.
All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.
PUBLISHER
Siren Publishing, Inc.
www.SirenPublishing.com
CONTENTS
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
* * * *
Chapter One
Sex.
As far as Cassidy Flint was concerned, sex was the biggest, most confusing, irritating, frustrating, and annoying subject on the planet.
At forty-three, she figured there was little hope she would ever understand it, but that hadn't stopped her from picking up the magazine in the hotel break room and bringing it back to the front desk with her. An article on being in charge of your own orgasm had snagged her attention. She thought of her short-lived marriage over thirteen years ago. She hadn't even been in charge of the groceries, let alone her own orgasms, which—not to disparage her poor deluded husband, Charlie—had been few and far between.
It wasn't Charlie's fault she'd decided to wait until marriage. And it hadn't been Charlie's fault that she'd come to their marriage not only a virgin, but an ignorant virgin assuming her husband would teach her everything she needed to know. That had been her own doing. Staying quiet about her lack of satisfaction between the sheets and otherwise, had been her fault as well. However, Charlie walking out on her without warning for that flaxen blonde with the bad boob job ... that was his fault.
The thing that always nagged at her though was that as a teen, she'd always been interested in sex. She remembered getting aroused looking at photos she had no business looking. She remembered wanting to be sexy, wanting men to look at her, touching her own body, dreaming it was the hands of her lover as she stood at the window in full view of anyone who'd dare to look up to the second story window.
Hell, she remembered when her big goal in life was to be a stripper and pose naked for Playboy.
So what happened?
By the time she'd gotten married she'd transformed into the text book good girl. Even when she found sex sorely disappointing, she hadn't said anything. One day at a time she'd given up her sexuality, her sensual side, her passion, and for what?
She stood behind the counter at the check-in desk of The Grand By The Sea and flipped through the pages of the women's magazine, feeling extremely frustrated and not caring that she was breaking more rules than just the one prohibiting reading while on the desk. To be precise, she was breaking about half a dozen.
The front desk uniform for women consisted of a cream-colored suit and a champagne silk blouse with a big bow tied at the neck. In her own defense, she didn't have the stupid bow untied. She did, however, have her jacket off and her shoes kicked under the counter. She was also leaning on the desk, but it was three in the morning, for crying out loud!
Other than the night crew dead-heading flower beds and vacuuming, she hadn't seen another living soul in the past two hours.
She reached under the desk and popped a few more pretzels into her mouth, utterly fascinated by the magazine article and the accompanying photos. She ran her finger slowly over the curve of the woman's breast then the nearly bare ass of the man and sighed. She'd kept herself in a glass bubble for years, not experiencing anything and she was truly beginning to wonder why. She may not be cover model beautiful, but a few men had expressed interest over the years.
Then it hit her hard, all the things Charlie had said. All the times he told her she couldn't satisfy a man. All the times he'd complained about her weight, or her hair, or her cellulite. He was the only man she'd ever given herself to and she'd found the act belittling and wholly unsatisfying and though a little voice at the back of her mind shouted it'd be different with the right man, she simply wasn't brave enough to risk another round of humiliation. Fantasies were all she would ever have and she'd just have to accept that.
Glancing up to make certain no one was watching her, she took in the vista of the old Spanish style lobby and the large mural depicting the California missions. Employed as the night clerk for over six years at the old hotel on a cliff overlooking the Pacific Ocean, she'd seen a lot of people come and go on this shift. Most couldn't take it more than a month, but she'd never once thought of leaving. She loved everything about the place, from the Spanish-style architecture, to the gardens that included the three-tier fountain out front and the koi pond in the back. What she liked most of all, was that this hotel was sort of a romantic get-away hotel.
Just because she wasn't getting any, hadn't made her petty enough to wish the same on others. Seeing couples in love and clinging to one another like a second skin gave her hope. Hope that maybe, despite her experience, despite her shyness, that maybe someone might love her anyway. It wasn't that much to ask really, was it?
Bringing her focus back to the article, she began to read about the three positions a woman would most likely orgasm in.
Dok-al-Arz
"Well, that sounds kinda lame."
Or, pounding on the spot.
She laughed. “Much better, and self explanatory."
She began to read the definition, becoming completely lost in the written words.
...then the woman begins a slow grinding movement, being able to stimulate her clitoris and G-spot simultaneously.
"Hmmm, I'm still not entirely sure I have a G-spot, but whatever."
She popped another pretzel in her mouth and pulled the magazine closer to her face. Primarily because once again she'd left her glasses at home, but also because she couldn't quite believe it actually said what she'd thought it did.
The orgasm then comes quickly and with great intensity.
"Oh good lord, I want to come with great intensity."
"Miss Flint, I could have your job for the amount of violations you're currently exhibiting."
Instantly recognizing the deep, sexy voice of her boss, a man who'd been favorably featured in more than one of her late night fantasies, only made her embarrassment deepen.
"Oh, you'll do no such thing. She isn't hurting anyone and it must get incredibly lonely on the overnights."
Cassidy looked up over the top of the magazine. The face of her boss, Garrison Lancaster, was visibly displeased. It was almost a crime for a man with such a chiseled jaw and straight white teeth to scowl like that. Standing beside him was another man she'd never seen before and if Garrison was handsome, the new guy was the epitome of gorgeous. He looked like a picture right out of the very magazine she was still managing to hold onto despite her fingers going limp.
A flash of the naked man in the magazine and the memory of her fingers trailing his butt caused her to imagine her fingers on the new guy's ass. Taut mounded flesh that would gently give beneath her touch, her fingers just barely dipping into the crevice between his cheeks, the vision was so erotic, she had to consciously catch her breath.
It was just because she'd been thinking about sex so much tonight. It had to be, because she never reacted to men like this, but right now, she wanted to jump both of them!
From where she stood, they looked like bookends. Garrison's brown hair was cut short and gelled on top to give it some flare. She imagined the spot on the back of his neck where his hairline ended. She wanted to push her fingers into his hair right there and play with his neck.
The other man's hair seemed impossibly thick and black as night, it had just enough wave to give it a casual look regardless of his short, efficient, management cut. Her fingers twitched, aching to touch it. Both men wore flawless pinstripe suits, Garrison's black, the other gray. It simply was not fair to the women of the world for these two to be in the same room together.
She drew a breath and demanded her wayward mind out of the gutter and back to where it should be. As angry as Garrison seemed, the other man's eyes held amusement, sadly it was directed at her, but when she met his gaze, it somehow eased the tension.
Self-consciously tucking her unruly curls behind her ears, she wished the second man would quit looking at her so intensely. It gave a girl ideas and she didn't need any more ideas.
"Besides, Garrison, didn't we come all the way down here at precisely this time of night so I could meet the incomparable Miss Flint, your most dependable front desk clerk?” His deep eyes met hers again “I thought you said she was indispensable?"
Cassidy watched the muscle in Garrison's jaw tic furiously. She realized she'd embarrassed him, and felt awful. Surreptitiously, she slipped one of her shoes back on, but the other seemed to have gotten away from her. Her stocking-clad foot casually searched the ground for it, but it seemed to have vanished. She simply could not let her gaze drop from Garrison's, she was hoping her eyes express her very real apology. Because she had the impression that regardless of how dependable he thought her, he'd like nothing better than to fire her right this very second.
"Mr. Grand, this is Miss Flint. Miss Flint—” Garrison's tone was icy. The sound made Cassidy stop squirming for her other shoe and just tuck the bare foot around behind the shoed one. “This is Mr. Grand. Owner of this hotel."
She felt sick, but covered embarrassment with humor, even though she instinctively knew this wasn't the time for it.
"You should find a better photographer. That photo in the employee break room makes you look a lot older."
He laughed, then quickly regained his composure, though not without a very definite smirk on his lips. “That would be my father, Miss Flint and he would technically be the owner of the hotel."
"Oh.” Cassidy smiled contritely, her one bare foot still around her ankle. She felt extremely self-conscious and just wished Mr. Lancaster and Mr. Sexy would leave ... now. Instead, she was appalled when he dropped to one knee before her, his head tilted back, his gaze meeting hers, a teasing smile on his lips. Long fingers wrapped seductively around her ankle. She'd had no idea the ankle was an erogenous zone, but from his touch she was breathless and more than a little turned on.
Grabbing her wayward shoe, he slowly slipped it back on her foot. It was a long, torturous moment, that she wished would last forever, and yet couldn't end fast enough. It was the worst and the best thing, in that this was something she could never have, not really, and yet something she wanted desperately.
For the briefest of moments, she allowed herself to imagine his hands running along her leg, under her skirt. Maybe he'd prop her up on the counter, tear off her panties. Her thoughts were scandalous and completely inappropriate, but then, he started it by getting down on one knee and touching her.
His eyes met hers. “Your slipper, Cinderella."
In spite of, or maybe because of, how turned on she was by his touch, Cassidy knew when she got home she was going to have to look up a new word for humiliation because that one simply wasn't strong enough any longer for how she was feeling now. She gave him a shy smile, pulled her foot from his incredible hands, and took three steps back, hoping the waves of his magnetism wouldn't reach that far and that in no way could he read her thoughts.
"Thank you, Mr. Grand."
Before he could make a big deal about her magazine, she not-so-discreetly tucked it behind her back. His smirk in response was hard to miss.
"Miss Flint."
The stern address brought Cassidy's attention immediately back to Garrison, who still looked livid, maybe more so now. “Come to my office when your shift ends this morning."
"Yes, Mr. Lancaster."
I don't suppose it's so you both can ravish me?
Her sudden renegade thought startled her. What was wrong with her tonight? She was feeling a lot like a dam about to explode and that could only be bad ... and messy.
Her pseudo-prince-charming gave her boss a slap on the back. “Leave it be, Garrison.” He looked back to Cassidy and smiled. “We all had a bit of fun and that never hurts. It was a pleasure, Miss Flint."
He bowed his head briefly then sent her a charming smile. It was one of those smiles that she'd seen in movies, and her heart fluttered. All white teeth and dimples and too good to be real. Even his eyes seemed to sparkle as he smiled, and Cassidy felt that all the way to places she thought long dead and decayed. She wasn't at all sure how she felt about knowing that they weren't.
Before she could respond, they both left. She watched them leave, torn between her erotic fantasies and the reality of the situation and began to wonder if she'd still be employed at The Grand By The Sea come morning.
* * * *
Cassidy turned her old broken down Honda onto the gravel drive beside her half of the duplex she'd rented for the past twelve years. It was a Spanish-style home that had been spilt into two very small units years ago. Her side thankfully had the second floor, which provided not only another bedroom and two fireplaces, but also a nice-sized kitchen and living room.
She huffed in disgust when she saw the very expensive sports car parked out front. Her neighbor for the past three years had been Melissa, a young woman who Cassidy thought would be better off still living at home. The child showed no signs of maturity whatsoever and Cassidy figured—considering the quantity and caliber of men that traveled through Melissa's home—not many morals, either. Money seemed to be her only standard. Cassidy had seen sports cars, Mercedes, BMWs, even a Rolls once. Melissa was a car chick, she guessed.
She grabbed the bag of groceries from the back seat and shoved the door shut with her poor old-aged hip. She wasn't sure why she always felt twice her age whenever Melissa got a new boyfriend. M
aybe it was simply because she'd never really had a boyfriend, not the romantic, sexy variety that Melissa attracted anyway, and now she figured she was too old to get one. She released a sigh at having to admit to her own petty jealousy.
It wasn't as if she couldn't have dated over the past thirteen years since Charlie left her, but she hadn't. At first, everything had been too overwhelming, then she felt too insecure, now ... well, now she imagined she was just comfortable. The thought of putting herself out there on the dating market, at her age, scared the bejeebers out of her.
"Ahhh!"
A man's hand delicately grabbed her elbow causing Cassidy to jump and drop the bag of groceries on the carport spilling its contents in all directions. She watched three oranges roll under the bougainvillea growing up the trellis between the two units.
Damn, it has thorns, too.
Catching her breath, she turned and warily eyed the man standing before her who had arguably just scared at least five years off her life.
"Mr. Grand?"
She'd truly lost it if she were hallucinating her good-looking boss on her doorstep. She closed her eyes, shook her head, but nope ... still there.
"What are you doing here?"
He couldn't have come all this way just to fire her, and besides he'd been the one on her side earlier. He bent down to pick up an orange that rolled his direction and landed against his shoe. A perfectly polished, very expensive shoe, if she didn't miss her guess.
He rubbed his hand around the back of his neck. He seemed different than when she'd met him, not quite as sure of himself, but still deliciously, dangerously attractive. She was torn between feeling insecure and unsure and feeling giddy with anticipation of what might happen.
"It's Aiden, first of all. And quite frankly, I'm not sure."
She took the orange when he handed it to her.
"Oh."
Her brow furrowed. Not exactly the great romantic fantasy answer, but at least it was honest. Still, this was truly surreal. She figured she'd pick up her groceries while he tried to decide why he was standing outside her house. He quickly joined her and in only a few moments they had all the items corralled and re-bagged.