by A. J. Norris
That sight nearly got him off on the spot. “I almost lost it.”
“I’m about to.” One hand curled into a fist while the other slipped between her legs.
God help me. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a condom. “This might slow me down.”
Her eyes widened and then she laughed. She dragged the bedspread off the bed and flung the sheets back.
He dropped his pants and kicked them across the room. “Take your dress off.”
The rumpled red satin hit the floor, then she pushed him back against the bed. “I’ll take care of this.” She ripped the wrapper open while he pulled his t-shirt over his head, leaving his hard cock jutting into her hand.
He gritted his teeth and sucked his breath in while she rolled the latex down the length of his dick. “Nicely done.”
She shoved her hand against his chest and pushed him flat on the bed. “Now you’re fucked.”
Damn right. He held her hips as she mounted him, slow, clinging. He hadn’t brought any lube. The club provided plenty. But she didn’t need it. Her wet heat seared through the barrier and melted his brain. “Holy shit, this isn’t going to work.”
“Shut up.” She bent over and licked his nipple.
Rippling waves of pleasure radiated from the wet nub. “Fucking hell, you’re gonna kill me.” No one had ever played with his nipples before. “Do it again.”
She grinned and licked the other one in slow circles, then teased it with fast flicks.
His fingers curled into her ass while she rode him, grinding on his lap and rubbing her slick flesh on his hard root. Tingles raced up and down his spine, invading every limb and driving him to pound her in return. She kept her mouth latched to a throbbing nipple while she reached over and pinched the neglected bud with her fingernails.
Pain shot through him, shredding the shroud of guilt that cloaked him every time he met a woman at the club. “Harder!” He deserved to be punished, but more than that, he wanted to feel something other than smothering dread. “I had no idea my nipples were connected to my cock.”
She laughed and pinched with both hands. “Do you want me to hurt you?”
“Oh God, yes!” He writhed beneath her, fucking her with erratic thrusts.
She leaned over and chomped on a tight bud.
He hissed and thrashed but she clamped down harder, sucking and pinching while his entire body throbbed. Her hair spilled across his chest and he wrapped both fists in her braids, holding on while she punished him. The pain pierced deep, ripping his heart open and leaving the truth exposed. Fear had kept him from experiencing pleasure. Condoms hadn’t hindered him. “I need this.”
“What?” She looked up and blinked at him as if waking from a dream.
Tripp shook his head and flipped her on her back. “I need to come.” She’d probably blackmail him if he told her. He closed his eyes and drove into her hot, tight flesh.
Chantal reached up and dragged her thumb across his bruised nipple.
“Ow!” He grabbed her hand and pried it free. “That’s enough punishment for tonight.” He’d never see her again if he took her to jail. How would he get more of this? Sure, he could get his ass beat at the club, but he doubted anyone else could make it feel so good.
She leaned up on her elbows and pressed her lips against his aching bud. Soft and soothing. Warm and sweet. “How’s that?”
He bit his lip and shuddered. The erotic pain that had ripped him raw slipped away, but the raging desire remained. His arms trembled and he collapsed on top of her. “Good,” he groaned in her ear.
“Just good?” Her hot breath sent shivers down his spine.
He gathered her in his arms, grinding slow and heavy between her spread legs. “Too good for me.”
Her fingernails scored his shoulders. “Be bad with me.” She slammed onto his cock, driving against him while she wrapped her legs around his hips.
He hitched her up and slapped her ass. She cried out, cursing while they wrestled on the crisp sheets, slipping, sliding, and fucking until they both gasped and moaned. He came inside the condom, deep inside her, exploding with a violent force that left him shuddering and begging for more.
After he came to his senses, Tripp rolled aside and slid the latex off while Chantal sprawled out across the bed with a goofy smile on her lips. He stood with his semi-hard dick straining toward her, craving contact. Should I cuddle with a suspect? He’d already fucked her when he should’ve locked her up, but snuggling afterward seemed like a worse violation.
She patted the mattress beside her. “Still waiting for an invitation?”
“Something like that.” He shrugged and sat down, stroking her left breast without giving it much thought.
Her hand drifted over and rubbed his thigh. “Why did you ask for my consent?”
“Did I?” His buzzing brain struggled to recall any rational actions.
“Twice.”
How much should I tell her? “One of the reasons I like going to Iniquity is because they have strict rules. No means no, which you clearly know about.”
Chantal snickered and slid closer to him.
“And all sex encounters are safe, sane, and consensual.” He reached over and cupped her right breast, squeezing them together and sweeping his thumb across the stiff tips. She moaned and parted her legs, most likely an involuntary reaction since he’d already satisfied her more than once. “I need to know how far I can go.” He withdrew his hand and stalled hers as it crept toward his greedy dick.
“Why?” She tried to pull free from his grasp, but he held her fingers tight.
Damn this woman’s more persistent than a lawyer. He scowled, refusing to give up any more secrets. “I thought you already knew who I am.”
“Apparently there’s more to learn.” A spark lit her eyes as if a challenge had ignited.
He pressed her knuckles to his lips and cursed himself for clinging to her. “Keep hacking my sins. You’ll find it.”
She slid under him, slipping her hands over his shoulders as he leaned down to kiss her. His naked cock probed her hot flesh, but as he straddled her, his knee landed on hard, cold reality. The handcuffs.
His inflexible rule slapped him in the face. Never the same woman twice. Especially not her. He snatched the cuffs and sat back, clicking one around her wrist and the other around his.
“Is this another sex game?” Her eyes hardened and her tone sharpened.
“Not this time.” Every truth he held dear screamed in protest as he lay beside her and wrapped their bound arms around her waist. He’d deal with the consequences later, in the bright light of day when he could see clearly, but for now, he surrendered to the dark, taking pleasure in soft boundaries and blurred rules.
A warm breeze brushed across Chantal’s bare back while the sun heated her shoulders. She yawned and stretched, digging her toes into the sand while seagulls circled and squawked overhead. The nap on a Caribbean beach had done little to banish the lingering dreams and sensual memories. She’d been sure Tripp would come after her, but as the days turned into weeks, her trail had grown cold despite the clues she’d left him.
Her smartphone pinged, indicating Nova’s latest mark had succumbed to guilt and bought her silence. Diane Blackstone’s private bank account had suddenly closed after Chantal’s encounter with Detective Martin. Had Tripp told her everything? Gathered his task force and sketched a detailed profile of the hacker that eluded him? The soft blanket beneath her caressed her cheek as she turned her head away from the sun’s harsh glare and stared down the empty shoreline. Why do I want that bastard to catch up with me?
Because the last time she’d been in his custody, she’d known only pleasure. The relentless pain in her head abandoned her, chased away by the pounding satisfaction between her thighs. A wild thrill fluttered low in her abs as a shadow fell across her.
“Chantal Leveque, aka Supernova, you’re under arrest.”
The husky growl set her heart racing. It’s him!
“Goddamn it! You still don’t know my name?” She rolled over and glared at Detective Tripp Martin grinning like an idiot and dangling a pair of handcuffs in her face. “What took you so long?”
His eyes darkened and he sucked in his breath when his gaze landed on her bare breasts. “Good thing I came alone.”
“You can keep coming alone.” She leaned back on her elbows, showing off what he didn’t deserve to touch. “You’re going to arrest me? Did you even read the email I sent?”
“I’m arresting you for stealing all of my clothes.” The corners of his mouth twitched as if resisting a smile, but his eyes hardened and he snarled. “I had to beg housekeeping to bring me something from lost and found just so I could leave the room.”
An image of him naked and pissed off made her bikini bottoms damp. “I left you my panties.”
“Yeah, those helped.” He snorted. “I woke up, rubbed my eyes, and the damn handcuff scratched me.” He drew his finger down his neck as if it still pained him. “How did you get out of them?”
She laughed and flexed her fingers. “I’m very bendy.”
“I remember.” He sat beside her on the blanket, crossing his legs and resting his arms on his knees. “I found your note.”
Four words that made her heart tremble.
Your secret is safe.
She’d scrawled them on a notepad she’d found lying on the desk then ran out the door. “Good.”
“Just good?” He reached out and traced her bikini bottoms with his finger.
Chantal caught her breath as his touch sent heated ripples between her thighs. “Why did you bring the cuffs?”
Tripp sighed and withdrew his hand. He stared out at the vast horizon while the ocean waves rolled in, crashing on the shore without ceasing. “I read your email probably a hundred times. I followed all your clues, made the connections, but I still didn’t want to believe it.” His shoulders drooped as he hung his head. “I did my own investigating, found more connections. Evidence I couldn’t deny.” His lips formed a firm line as if he could no longer argue, and then he focused his intense blue eyes on her. “Diane is just the beginning.”
“What are you going to do?” He could still arrest her. The stolen evidence she’d sent him could put her in prison for years. Her head pounded and her pulse roared in her ears while she waited for him to pronounce her sentence.
His lips twitched, no longer able to fight that smile, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I’ll make you famous, Nova.”
His enticing promise drove the pain from her head, and she released her captive breath on a laugh. Fame, riches, a private tropical beach. But her star would collapse without this conflicted cop at the center of her galaxy. “I’ll make you dangerous.” She swiped the handcuffs from his belt and locked them around his wrists.
He offered no resistance, but instead he hooked one finger in her waistband and tugged at her bikini. “Why aren’t you naked?”
She slipped the half-swimsuit to her ankles and kicked it aside, exposing everything she had to offer and hoping he’d take it without question.
He hesitated, fumbling with the handcuffs as if they were the real restraint.
Chantal sat up and crawled onto his lap, bending her legs around his waist. What is he hiding? “Yes.” She moaned the word on his lips, driving it home with her tongue to make sure he had no doubts.
Cold steel dragged against hot skin as he slid his bound hands up over her head and down around her waist. “Too good for me.”
She slid her hand between them and unzipped his jeans, wriggling her fingers inside to circle his hot, stiff cock. “Then let’s be bad.”
About the Author
When I was in the third grade, my teacher wrote ‘tends to daydream’ on my report card. What did she expect from a girl raised on fairy tales? I’m convinced those fanciful stories led to the romance novel addiction I acquired in junior high. My mom caught me reading a particularly hot one and took it away from me. She couldn’t stop me from daydreaming though, and after I got married, I wrote some of my steamier daydreams down and sent them to Playgirl magazine. Two of them were published. I kept writing and eventually my short stories became romance novels.
I live in Colorado now, but I’ll always be a loyal Wisconsin Cheesehead. When I’m not lusting after my next bad boy hero, I’m looking for inspiration in sci-fi and action movies, football players, morally ambiguous lawyers, muscle cars, and kick-butt chicks. Characters—the ever-present voices in my head—bring my books to life. They’re my imaginary friends.
We all need to get away from reality for a little while. I prefer to escape with a sizzly, sexy, forever romance.
Facebook:
https://www.facebook.com/AmeliaJamesAuthor%20
Twitter:
https://twitter.com/AJamesRomance
Google Plus:
https://plus.google.com/u/0/106317629275663311597/posts
Website
http://ameliajamesromance.com/
Goodreads:
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/1219684.Amelia_James
Asking for Trouble
By: Kiersten Modglin
Chapter One
Katherine Ames walked out of the tower that boasted her last name. It was a particularly sunny day in the city, so she had to hold her hand up, shielding her eyes in order to see her limo. She climbed into the back, nodding politely to her driver.
“I need to go to my apartment please,” she instructed him before rolling up the divider.
Just then, her phone began to buzz. She looked down at the screen, not recognizing the number.
“Katherine Ames,” she called into the speaker.
“Hello? Ms. Ames?”
“Yes?” she said.
“Ms. Ames, this is Justin McConnell with Mr. Whittington’s office. I’m calling about your meeting today,” the young-sounding man told her.
“Okay, is everything all right?”
“I’m afraid Mr. Whittington is going to have to reschedule. It seems as though something unavoidable has come up. He asked me to send his regards for the short notice.”
She glanced at her watch. It was already after four and their meeting was set for six o’clock. She rolled her eyes, sighing. “There must be something we can do. It’s so important that we have the meeting today. I’ve already contacted my legal team about getting this merger started today. Surely, Justin, there’s something you can do.”
The man sighed. “I’m terribly sorry, but there isn’t. Mr. Whittington does want me to have you meet with his associate, Mr. Dylan, in his place.”
“Mr. Dylan…” She tried to decide if she recognized his name. “Is he a partner?”
“Not exactly. He’s a very valued member of our merging team. Mr. Whittington thinks very highly of him and his opinions. He seems to think it is imperative that you two meet.”
“I’m sorry, I’m very busy. I’m just not sure I have the time to meet with anyone other than Mr. Whittington at this particular moment.”
“I see…” He trailed off.
“If you could just let me know when Mr. Whittington will be able to reschedule, I will—”
He cleared his throat, interrupting her. “I’m afraid I’ll have to get back with you. Mr. Whittington is extremely busy right now and I can’t interrupt him. I should warn you, though, there are several other companies interested in this merger. Should you choose to forgo the meeting with Mr. Dylan, there are literally dozens of others who would love to take it. Like I said, Mr. Whittington thinks the world of Mr. Dylan’s opinions. He’ll likely take whatever he has to say about this meeting very seriously.”
Katherine sighed to herself. “Okay, I’ll take the meeting. Please let Mr. Dylan know that I am looking forward to meeting him.”
“I’ll let him know.”
“Should I assume we are meeting at the same time?”
“Same time, yes,” he confirmed, “but Mr. Dylan has requested that you meet him at Maggia
no’s on Fifth.”
With that, Katherine hung up her phone, laying it down on the seat. The traffic in front of her was lined up for miles. At this rate, there was no way she’d make it the twenty-seven blocks to her apartment.
“You know what?” she asked as she rolled down the divider between her and the driver. “Let’s stop here. I’ll just run in this shop and buy something to wear. We’ll never make it across town in time.”
As the car came to a stop in front of one of her favorite clothing stores, she stepped out, grabbing her purse and phone and strutting into the building, her eyes already locked on a red dress in the window.
It was time to make a great first impression, and if there was one thing Katherine Ames was spectacular at, it was first impressions.
Chapter Two
Katherine walked into Maggiano’s Bar at a quarter till six. The place was crowded with wealthy diners. This wasn’t the sort of place Katherine usually chose to take her business meetings, but Mr. Dylan was going to get what he had requested. She glanced around the dimly lit restaurant, looking for her counterpart.
“Ms. Ames?” a low voice inquired from behind her, so close it made her jump.
She turned swiftly and gasped.
A man stood behind her, a dark, fitted suit showing off his muscled body. His coal-black hair stood up messily in every direction unlike his perfectly tamed beard, which clung tightly to his chin and jawline. He smirked at her.
“I’m—”
“Mr. Dylan, of course!” she said, probably a little too loudly.
“Thank you for meeting me on such short notice.”
“It’s my pleasure,” she said, cold chills running up and down her arms.
He held out his hand, leading her to a lone table in the back.
“I hope you don’t mind—I went ahead and ordered us a bottle of wine.”
