The Seductive Nights Novellas

by Lauren Blakely

  “So there. I know stuff about you already.” He snuggled her closer, drawing lazy lines across her belly as they talked. “I also know you’re daring, and not afraid to speak your mind, and that you have a healthy sexual appetite.”

  She smiled, and elbowed him playfully. “I do, but don’t think I get around because I don’t. You’re the first man I’ve been with in a year.”

  “You’ve been with women in between then?” he asked, in a teasing tone.

  “Ha ha. But not what I meant. Though I’m sure you wouldn’t mind.”

  “I absolutely would not mind watching you eat pussy one bit. In fact, I’m going to add that to my bucket list. You, and all that gorgeous red hair spread out across a pair of sexy thighs as you lick and kiss and suck…”

  She shook her head and laughed. “You are trouble. All I was saying is that I don’t do this often. I don’t hookup with men who come to my bar.”

  “I came in your bar too,” he added, making Julia snicker once again. The moonlight shone through the window that overlooked the streets of San Francisco, and the white gauzy curtain blew gently in the night breeze. Outside the door, she was vaguely aware of a cart being rolled, which meant room service somewhere on the floor was being delivered. Maybe to another pair of new lovers who were famished after the best kind of workout. But even if there were other lovers nearby, she knew – beyond a shadow of a doubt – that no one else had this kind of mind-blowing chemistry. She and Clay were electric. “Anyway, I don’t do this either. It’s not a habit. You have to know you’re irresistible, Julia. Irresistible,” he repeated.

  With that one word, her heart beat the tiniest bit faster; maybe it even started to leap. And a part of her wanted to bolt for having the single tiniest little feeling beyond the physical. But another part of her wanted to bask in that feeling a little more.

  “So are you,” she whispered.

  He ran his strong fingers through her hair, touching her softly. “Now, let’s go back to the start of this conversation. I want you tell me something about you. You’re not getting out of this so easily.”

  She wriggled her rear against him. “I wasn’t trying to. What do you want to know?”

  “What do you like to read?”

  She smiled in the dark. She liked that he’d asked first about books, rather than movies or TV, the world he trafficked in. “Books,” she said dryly.

  “What kind of books, Little Miss Sarcastic?”

  “Adventure stories,” she said, and she could practically feel him raise an eyebrow inquisitively. She shifted to her other side so she could face him as they talked. He shot her a quizzical look, as if the breaking of the physical contact perturbed him. He solved the problem quickly, reaching out to touch her, running his hand down her thigh.

  “Can’t keep your hands off me?”

  “No, I can’t. And I see no reason not to touch you. What kind of adventure stories?”

  “Real adventures. Scary adventures. Like the ship captain who was held hostage by Somali pirates.”

  “A Captain’s Duty,” he said, and she was impressed he knew the title of the book, rather than simply the title for the film based on it. “Good book. Good movie too, Captain Phillips. What else?”

  “Stories about SEALS.”

  “The fictional ones where they’re back from their missions and they fall in love with the hot woman they’re assigned to protect?”

  “No,” she said, laughing.

  “Wait. The ones where they fall for the physical therapist who rehabs them after war?”

  Another laugh. “My my, don’t you know everything about romance tropes? But no, I mean the real ones about their real missions.”

  “That’s it. You’re going to have to stop talking now. Because if you say anything more it’s going to become clear you are the most perfect woman ever made.”

  “And why is that? You a fan of SEAL stories too?”

  “I’m a fan of you growing more fascinating with every detail I learn.”

  “I’m an onion. Keep peeling me.”

  “A sexy onion. Let me take off another layer,” he said and bent his head to her shoulder, nibbling playfully.

  “What about you?”

  “What about me? What do I like to read?”

  “No. I’m picking a different topic. What movies do you like? And don’t name your clients’ films.”

  “Of course, their works are all my favorites. But when I’m not watching their movies, I like heist flicks.”

  “Like Ocean’s Eleven?”

  He nodded. “Best heist movie ever.”

  “And The Italian Job?”

  “Another excellent one.”

  “And Thomas Crowne Affair?”

  “Brilliant plot.”

  “And Die Hard?”

  “Seen it ten times. Maybe more,” Clay said.

  “I love them all too,” she said.

  “Okay, now you have to cease speaking.”

  “Because that makes me perfect?” she joked.

  “Something like that,” he muttered as he pulled her in close, and kissed her once more.

  * * *

  When she woke up the next morning, Clay ran a hand through his hair, then cleared his throat. “I can push back my flight until later tonight. Do you want to spend the day with me?”

  She couldn’t think of a better idea. “And we can talk more about movies, and TV shows, and books?”

  “That. Or about the threesome we’re going to have some day.”

  She arched an eyebrow. “I am not sharing you.”

  He smiled devilishly at her. “Good answer. And for the record, I would never ever share you.”

  “Good. Now for even suggesting that, I need two orgasms, stat.”

  He tipped his forehead to the bathroom. “Shower. You. Against the wall.”

  After he delivered on her request, they went out to lunch in Hayes Valley at one of her favorite restaurants that had 47 varieties of dipping sauce for French Fries. Clay agreed that it might be the best restaurant he’d ever been to and that fries were an unbeatable food choice.

  But as the evening unspooled, Julia became aware of a ticking clock. Time seemed to speed up, to charge headfirst to the end of the night as the inevitable goodbye loomed closer. When his car arrived to take him to the airport, she said goodbye and planted a quick kiss on his cheek. There would be no poignant, postcard kind of kiss. They might have had fun, they might be insanely compatible in bed, they might even have the same taste in movies and books, but there was no they. She had too much baggage here in her hometown. Too much trouble that wasn’t close to being wrapped up. And too many more Tuesday nights before she could call it even.

  She needed to start erecting a wall. Clay would go down in her history as the best sex ever – a night of unbridled perfection in the bedroom. And, fine, he scored major points for being easy to talk to and fun to spend the day with. But he lived 3000 miles away.

  “Nice meeting you,” she said crisply and turned to leave.

  He grabbed her wrist and pulled her to him, her body flush with his. Damn, she loved the feel of his strong chest against hers. She liked it too much.

  “Julia,” he said, and this time his voice was intense, serious. “I had an amazing time with you. I know this sounds crazy since we live on opposite coasts, but I need to see you again. I’m going to call you.”

  He kissed her deeply, a searing kiss that made her stand on her tip toes and thread her hands in his hair so she could hold on tight. When he broke the kiss, she felt wobbly and her lips missed his.

  As he drove off, she realized maybe her heart missed him too. But she reminded herself that it was easy to say I’m going to call you. What was harder was doing that. What was Herculean was seeing someone on the other side of the country.

  * * *

  Clay pounded hard on the punching bag with a final hit. His breath came fast, his heart beating ferociously from the workout.

  “Never seen you
hit so hard, man,” Davis said to him. “Who are you picturing now? That network bastard you had to deal with in San Francisco?”

  Clay shook his head as he bent over the water fountain at the boxing gym for a cold drink of water. He hadn’t been picturing the network exec at all. He’d been thinking of how much it sucked that Julia lived so damn far away. He’d been back in New York for one day. One stinking day, and he couldn’t get that feisty woman out of his mind.

  “No,” he answered crisply.

  “You should just call her,” Davis said.

  He snapped his head up, staring hard at his friend. “What?”

  “The woman you spent the extra day with in San Francisco.”

  “How did you know?”

  “You told me you were coming back in the morning and you missed our workout yesterday.” He tapped the side of his head. “Remember? I know how to read people. It’s my job.”

  “Anyway,” Clay said, trying to brush him off.

  “Are you going to?”

  “Call her?”

  “Yeah. Call her. Because you should.”

  Shrugging, he tried to act cool and casual. But the truth was he’d always been planning to call her. He hadn’t been giving her a line when he left the other night. He wanted to see her again and discover if there was something more to them. He’d enjoyed talking to her as much as he’d enjoyed making her scream his name. She fascinated him, and he couldn’t let her be just one night. He wanted more nights with her.

  When he reached his apartment and shut the door behind him, he dialed her number. She answered on the second ring.

  “Hello, person I never thought I’d hear from again.”

  He smiled, wishing he could tug her sweet little body against his, plant a kiss on her beautiful face, feel her melt into his touch.

  “Hey, Julia. What would you say about coming to New York for the weekend? I have a new set of ropes I’ve been meaning to use, and a restaurant I want to try, and a big king-size bed you’d look spectacular tied up to. Oh, and there’s also a new heist movie coming out this weekend that we could see.”

  She laughed once. “Let me get this straight. I’m being invited to the Big Apple for dinner, a movie and a little bondage?”

  “Yes, that would be correct.”

  * * *

  She didn’t answer right away. She carefully considered his request.

  She’d won big earlier that night. The kind of win that made the weight of her past start to lessen. Besides, he was only asking for two nights of her life. This wasn’t a commitment. This wasn’t a relationship, and she sure as hell wasn’t going to get caught up in him.

  “Then the answer is pick me up at the airport in a town car, handsome, because I’m going to be ready for all of that and then some as soon as I step off the plane,” she said, as she sank down on her couch, kicked off her heels, and started counting down the hours til the weekend.

  It was one weekend. Nothing more, she promised herself.

  They stayed on the phone for an hour, talking about everything and nothing, and his voice lowered to that sexy growl as he asked her what she was wearing. Then, he brought her there again.

  Just a weekend, she repeated the next day, and the next, and the next, and all during the flight, and even as she walked through the terminal and out the doors of JFK.

  But when she saw him in that hot-as-sin suit, with his tie already loosened, and sunglasses on, leaning against the town car, she had a feeling she’d never want the weekend to end….

  * * *

  Julia and Clay’s story continues in the New York Times and USA Today Bestselling novel NIGHT AFTER NIGHT, now available across all retailers.

  ONE NIGHT WITH HER

  A prequel novella to NIGHTS WITH HIM

  First names only for one night of pleasure...

  He’s only at the hotel to close a business deal. Then he sees her, and his agenda for the evening shifts—woo her, win her, and make sure she never forgets who gave her the most exquisite pleasure she’s ever had. Jack Sullivan, sex toy mogul, a billionaire, and one of New York City’s most eligible bachelors is captivated by the brilliant and beautiful Michelle Milo.

  From her witty mouth to her sinful body, she’s his perfect fantasy. But there’s more at play than the undeniable chemistry; they both might be exactly what the other needs.

  As soon as he has her between the sheets, he knows one night with her will never be enough.

  The trouble is, he’s about to run into her tomorrow…in the last place he expects.

  CHAPTER ONE

  First Impressions

  Pleasure, beyond her wildest fantasies.

  “That’s a helluva promise to make. Because some people have pretty wild fantasies,” Jack said as he rattled off the tagline attached to the tall purple device that boasted twelve different settings designed to serve up “exquisite stimulation.”

  “That’s exactly why we’re making that promise,” Casey replied as she hopped up on the edge of his desk and crossed her legs, absently kicking a high-heeled foot back and forth like a pendulum. “Because this bad boy can de-li-ver. Stories, I can tell you,” she said, and Jack quickly held up a hand as a stop sign.

  “I’ll have to trust you on that.”

  She rolled her stormy blue eyes, the same shade as his. “Don’t go all squeamish on me.”

  “Has nothing to do with squeamishness,” he said, shaking his head. “You can just keep this on the list of things I never want to hear—stories about my little sister and our newest product.”

  “You don’t have to trust me when it comes to The Wild One,” she said, grasping the toy and cradling the newest vibrator in her hand, stroking it lovingly. “Trust our product testing group, otherwise known as The Happiest Ladies in the World.”

  “Do they walk around all blissed out, mouths open, eyes glazed?” Jack teased, hanging his jaw open in demonstration. Not mockingly, of course. He was a big fan of that deliciously sated look a woman wore after an orgasm. Usually multiple Os. At least, as far as he was concerned.

  Casey snapped her fingers. “Allow me to quote some feedback from one of our testers. ‘The Wild One is like a direct line to a pleasure palace I didn’t even know existed inside of me.’ Now that I think about it, we should rename this one The Wizard, because this is the closest anyone will ever come to real magic here.” She stopped, took a beat. “Get it? Come?”

  He nodded, a small smile tugging at his lips. “I do get it. Wasn’t a hard one to wrap my head around,” he said, tapping his temple.

  “See? You’ve got the hang of the puns too. Hard one,” she repeated.

  “Been running this business with you for five years now, Casey. I’m well acquainted with your style. And with the magic we’re peddling.”

  “Abracadabra,” she said, miming waving a magic wand. “Joy delivered.”

  That’s what the company they ran was called—Joy Delivered—and Jack had a meeting in an hour with one of the city’s top purveyors of pleasure products, Eden. The classy shop on the Upper East Side, conveniently located above a private BDSM club Eden also ran, had been actively promoting another device, the Dancing Dolphin. That triple speed, nearly noiseless, terrifically thrilling pocket vibrator had developed a cult following among legions of erotic book club readers, who praised it as the perfect companion while they read one-handed, often about BDSM storylines, as it turned out. The dom-sub lifestyle wasn’t Jack’s personal cup of tea, but he was glad for whatever floated someone’s boat enough to open the bedside drawer and grab a toy.

  Yeah, business was good thanks to the erotica craze that had swept not just the country, but also the world, and had made it more acceptable to bring another party into the bedroom, even if the third party required batteries. Nothing wrong with self-love or with calling in backup between the sheets, Jack reasoned.

  “Are you going to take this with you to your meeting tonight with Henry and Marquita?” Casey handed him The Wild One, but Jack quic
kly shook his head.

  “They’ve already seen it. We’re just finalizing the paperwork for the new shipment. We’re beyond the giggle-at-the-dildo stage of conversation.”

  “But it’s still nice to see the pleasure tools. Especially since they’re going to that sexuality conference at The Pierson, right?”

  “Right. He said he’d be attending some sessions in the afternoon. And yet, call me crazy,” he said, stopping to scratch his chin, “I think I might prefer not to display a nine-inch fake schlong on the table at The Pierson Hotel. It’s a classy joint.”

  “And all their guests are probably slipping plastic purple friends under those twelve-hundred thread count sheets at that classy joint. That’s why you hear so many high-pitched screams at The Pierson,” Casey said, rising from the desk, and slapping a palm on it to accentuate her punch line. With her other hand, she tossed him the newest toy, her blond hair swishing around her face from the throw. “Take it, Jack. Maybe he wants to bring a present home to his wife.”

  “Not one that’s been manhandled already.”

  “That’s what the toy cleaner is for,” she said, reaching for a bottle of anti-bacterial cleaner from the edge of his desk and tossing it next. He caught it easily, snatching it out of the air.

  “By the way, send Marquita my love. Tell her and Henry I say hi.”

  Casey sauntered out of his office and Jack grinned, tsking her playfully under his breath. No way in hell was he bringing this device along, and it had nothing to do with being embarrassed, and everything to do with keeping it simple. He wasn’t a bag man; he didn’t want to tote his laptop to a meeting, along with a toy in the side pocket. A wallet, phone and keys were all he needed, so he left the rest behind as he stood up, pushed a hand roughly through his dark hair, and then jammed his phone into the pocket of his pants. He grabbed the cranberry-colored tie slung over the back of his chair and looped it around his neck, tying a neat knot. Best to look sharp for the team at Eden. New York was still very much a suit-and-tie town, and so Jack wore the requisite uniform.

  He was about to step out of his office when Casey popped back in, the look in her eyes now intense and serious. “Don’t forget your appointment tomorrow at two.”