Well, that was a pleasant surprise. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had real service. She smiled and stepped inside where the cool air perked her up. Two women and two very hot men were lounging on a long cream-colored sofa in the lobby. One of the men, also wearing a blue-striped polo, had his hand under the woman’s blouse, kneading her breast. Despite working vice, the blatant nature surprised and embarrassed her a little her. Perhaps her shock was because the woman was a good twenty years older than her attractive partner, or it could be that the place looked too respectable for such an act. Christ, maybe she was more of a prude than she thought. She bet the woman had checked the box that included public display of affection. Now Tiffany wished she’d been more selective with her boxes.
The second woman was younger than the first by half. She sat on another stud’s lap, kissing her partner with a lot of energy.
“Tiffany?”
She jerked out of her voyeurism trance. “Yes.”
A tall, thin woman wearing a body-hugging red suit stood in front of her. “Welcome.” Her smile came out genuine. She scrolled through her iPad. “I see you’ve requested a massage. Would you like to freshen up first or head on in?”
“Now’s good.” A relaxing massage might take the edge off her tingling nerves.
The lobby smelled like spice, nutmeg perhaps, all clean and fresh. This place was totally not what she expected, though if asked, she wouldn’t be able to describe what she thought she’d see. Something seedy, unclean maybe, but not anything this elegant.
The woman led her to a spa door. “Go right in and Melissa will give you what you need.”
Melissa? Where were all the men who were supposed to have sex with her? From the way her boss talked, she expected a brothel, but instead, this was someplace her mom, God rest her soul, would have enjoyed.
After undressing, she slipped into a thick, terrycloth robe and slippers that made her body moan in pleasure. She entered a small dark room filled with Indian-sounding music and scented with musky incense. Maybe now she’d get Trent or Dominic, all naked and hot, to give her more than a massage.
Wrong. A female waltzed in, cheery and young. After a fabulous, legitimate deep tissue massage, Tiffany headed to her room with clothes in hand. The moment she stepped inside, she knew she was in heaven. The walls were striped a mellow yellow, and the huge bed had large, comfortable bolsters, but it was the deck that drew her attention. Her first-floor room opened out onto the pool with a view of more mountains in the background. A thousand photographs flashed in her head.
Before she had a chance to explore further, someone rapped on her door. Maybe it was the lunch she’d ordered. Wouldn’t her boss have a fit when he saw her bill? She pulled open the door, and her jaw nearly dropped.
A six-foot-two bronzed god stood at her door with a grin the size of the Grand Canyon. In his hand was a tray of sandwiches and fruit. “Tiffany?”
She had to swallow to form the words. “Yes.”
Without asking permission, he stepped past her into the room. “How about we eat on the terrace? The temperature is a cool eighty and there’s a nice breeze.”
We? “And you are?” Damned, she shouldn’t have sounded so hostile.
“Trent.”
No way. He was her guide? Betty was right. No man deserved to be this good-looking. This seduction was going to be easier than she thought.
“Sure, but I need to slip into something more comfortable.” She tugged on her robe. “I wasn’t expecting company so soon.”
“You go right ahead and change, and I’ll set up lunch.”
He ran his gaze up and down the length of her. She could have sworn his blue eyes could see right through the robe. Damn. She should just drop the covering, right here, right now, and offer to fuck him. No, she wanted this seduction to last a little longer. After all, she was here to prove his innocence.
Spinning around, she picked up her unopened suitcase and carried it toward the bathroom. Damn. From the throbbing pulse at her neck, she bet he could see how his broad shoulders and classic face had affected her. When she’d pretended to be a prostitute, the men were skanks. It was easy to turn down that kind of man. But Trent? He was hot with a capital H, and as wholesome as a guy could get.
She mentally reviewed his assets as if she were detailing him to a sketch artist. His sandy hair nearly reached his shoulders, like he’d just flown in from the coast of California after playing sand volleyball or spending the day surfing. His muscled chest and firm legs told her he was into working out.
She ducked into the bathroom. The interior stopped her short. It was larger than her apartment. Okay, maybe not that big, but it was more spacious than any bathroom she’d been in. The shower alone could have housed a half a dozen men.
Don’t go there.
Not wanting to keep Trent waiting, she pulled on virginal white panties and a fully covering lace bra, or as much as a B cup could cover. She slipped on a plain, white buttoned-down shirt, and instead of pants, tugged on a straight blue skirt that covered her knees. For footwear, she chose to go barefoot. It made her look more youthful. Though a month shy of thirty, many would say she looked in her early twenties. As a last attempt to look closer to sixteen, she pulled her blonde hair into a ponytail. No makeup. Just a fresh face.
She inhaled and went out to the terrace. Trent lounged on the chair, his long legs naked from the knee down and his polo shirt unbuttoned at the throat.
“Hi.” Her throat had turned dry. How could she be nervous? My God. She’d been with killers, sadists, and rapists.
His eyes widened. “Hi, yourself. Let’s have a bite, and then you can tell me about your photography needs and wishes.”
“Sure.” If she regaled him with all her needs, the sun would set before she finished. At least he hadn’t asked about her fantasy. Or had he? No way would she say she wanted to have mind-blowing sex with the photographer right after he intimately captured her protruding nipples, and then turned that captured image into his computer wallpaper. This was a job, not a real fantasy vacation.
She went for the innocent answer. “I love macro shots.”
“Really? Me too.”
That was a line. “What kind of camera do you have?” He probably owned a cheap Instamatic.
“A Canon Mark IIID.”
Holy shit. He earned that much money? Full-format cameras were for pros. He might be one, but his professional status wouldn’t be for picture taking.
He lifted the plate of sandwiches for her to choose. She took one and bit into the yummy meal. “Mmm. This is good.” Did she really want to spend an hour having a leisurely lunch when she could be seducing him? “How about we eat quickly and you show me around? I’ll bring my camera, and you bring yours.” Out in the open, she could flirt more easily.
“It’s a deal.”
She assumed she was calling his bluff, but maybe he was into photography. She debated changing into shorts when they walked about, but a skirt might require him to help her over the uneven terrain. Hands on waist, here we come. After putting on her sneakers, she pulled out her camera. “Ready.”
“I wouldn’t be a good guide if I didn’t bring supplies. Give me, say, fifteen minutes?”
Like she had a choice? “Okay.”
He smiled and his sexy dimples made her almost swoon. Her body regressed to that of a teenage girl’s at her first rock concert, where the lead singer spotted her in the audience and sang the song just for her.
“Meet me by the fountain and I’ll take you for a ride you won’t forget.” He winked and she knew he was hooked. Or was she the one about to be reeled in?
Chapter Two
Maybe it hadn’t been such a good idea to climb to the top of the ridge in a tight skirt, but when Tiffany arrived, she was glad she’d made it.
“The view of the desert below is amazing.”
He grinned. He had perfect teeth, a perfect smile, and was all male. “I thought you’d like it.”
; The only bummer was that she’d needed too much of Trent’s help to make it over the large rocks. The needing help part had been her plan in the first place, but once she got the assistance, her belief system of being self-sufficient took a beating. She must have forgotten that fact when she’d put on the damned skirt. At least her dad would be proud. He used to shake his finger and say, “You’re too damned independent for your own good. No man wants a woman more competent than him.”
Maybe he was right.
She inhaled the clean mountain air. Time to set her plan into action. Tiffany got down on her stomach, planted the camera on the ground and, using a high depth of field, shot along the mountain ridge, keeping the pretty wildflowers in the foreground. She sat up to check the viewfinder. Damn. The glare from the sun obscured her photo, and she so wanted to see if her exposure came out right.
Trent came up behind her. “I got an incredible shot.” He grinned and turned his camera toward her.
She cupped her hands around the back of his camera. “Oh, please. That’s just me.”
His mouth dropped. “What? You don’t think that’s art?”
“I admit my fantasy was to be photographed, but not here.” She sat up and wrapped her arms around her chest to fend off a sudden breeze crossing her damp skin.
He stood and scanned the horizon. “We’re the only ones around. I can’t think of any better background than nature.” He moved his hands in such a way to indicate a woman’s body. “I’d love to take a silhouette of you naked, backlit by the glorious desert sun.” His eyes sparkled as he raised his brows. “What about it?”
Her blood pressure dropped. That’s what she was here for, to get naked and, in theory, entrap him into doing something illegal. Yes, she’d listed nude photography as her fantasy, but now that she was confronted with actually “doing” it, she wasn’t so sure she could strip in front of a stranger, albeit a really hot one.
What was wrong with her? Being here with Trent, in this pristine land of pine trees, rocks, and magnificent vistas, should have been exhilarating. It was, but removing her clothes seemed, well, wrong somehow. Was it because she was only playacting? Or was it that Trent was merely a hired hand to act like he was attracted to her? Even when she’d gone undercover in depraved areas, she’d managed to keep her panties on.
He turned his palms upward as if silently asking why she was taking so long to decide.
This is your job. Just do it. “Sure.” Maybe she should play up the virgin role, but where would that get her? The sooner she started to have sex with him, the sooner she could put Betty Dumfield’s case to rest.
Tiffany got to her feet, turned her back to him, and unbuttoned her shirt slowly, hoping the striptease would excite him. Once her shirt fell open, she let the thin material float to the ground behind her. The cool breeze licked her skin and sent a quick shiver over her arms. She debated taking off her bra but decided it would be more romantic and enticing if he had to help. Having his strong fingers on her back would be an added pleasure.
When she finally faced him, Trent was inches from her, snapping away. Whoa.
He smiled as he clicked. “I like it, babe.” He pushed a few buttons. “Continuous shooting. Why don’t you take off the rest of your clothes and I’ll snap photos of you in the act.”
She inhaled deeply to regroup. Standing in her bra was one thing, but could she get totally nude? She’d come this far, but she needed to set limits. There was no way she would attempt to have sex with him up on the ridge, with the wind blowing and the whole world watching. Not the whole world, maybe, but a low-flying airplane could get a good view.
Her cop training clicked in. She’d packed her cuffs in her camera bag, but with her extra lenses, there’d not been enough room for her weapon. She knew nothing of this hunky man and what he was capable of, so she’d have to be on guard. If he did force himself on her, which she doubted, and things got rough, there’d be no one to come to her rescue. Bottom line, naked was okay, but not the sex part.
Here goes.
She stepped out of her skirt and toed it on top of her shirt. Her white bikinis were plain, but they did show off her body. Goose bumps raced up her chest and legs. Leaning over, she untied her shoes and took them off along with her socks. Done. If he wanted her naked, he’d have to do finish the job himself.
His finger touched her tattoo. “Darlin’?”
“It’s a snake’s head.” Maybe it was too goth for him. “Don’t you like it?”
His warm finger traced the shape over and over, each time getting closer to her pussy. “Sure I do. All I can think of is how lucky that snake is to be up close and personal with you all day long.” His grin made her heart ping.
He put the camera to his face and took a few shots of her thigh.
She surveyed the ground. Where to stand? She bent down to brush away the small rocks when Trent pulled her to a standing position.
“I have a better idea.”
He set his camera down, pulled off his shirt and placed it on the ground. He was definitely a man of honor. She couldn’t take her gaze off his rippling pecs and well-developed abs. She’d seen his kind of body in magazines, but never in person. Her pussy dampened from the idea of his hands all over her heated flesh. She stopped short of picturing what else he could offer.
“Stand on this so your feet won’t hurt.”
She raised her gaze to his face and let his words register. Yes, she was paying him to bring her up here and fulfill her made-up fantasy, but she was sure his job description didn’t include being so considerate, though in truth being considerate might be his way of being seductive. “Thanks.”
He picked up her skirt, shirt and socks, folded them, and placed them on top of his backpack. He looked straight at her. “I’m going to have to agree with you. The view’s great up here.”
She could have sworn he blushed.
He retrieved his camera and moved in front of her. “Turn to the side. The light is beautiful on your face.”
She refused to get caught up in his compliments, but she did as he asked.
He took a few shots then brushed the hair out of her eyes. His fingertips left a trail of heat as if he’d branded her. His attempt to keep the curly mass under control didn’t work as the wind had a mind of its own. He hooked his fingers under her bra strap and lowered it over her shoulder. The thought of being naked caused a shiver to dance across her breasts. He zoomed in close and took a few more photos of her near-naked tits. Her stupid pussy got even more moist thinking about his tender touch and his apparent excitement as he raked the camera up and down her body. This wasn’t good. She wasn’t here to feel good. She had a job to do. Her attempt at thinking with the clinical side of her brain failed.
He dragged a finger over the other strap. “To get the silhouette perfect, you’ll need to remove this pretty lacy thing. Would that be okay, babe? Cause if not, we don’t have to. It’s your fantasy.”
She bit down on her lip, acting like his request would compromise her. In truth, it might. “I guess it would be okay. Art for art’s sake and all.” He must think her a dork for that comment. “Can you help me with the hook in back?” She turned around. Her throat became so dry, she forced down a swallow.
His warm fingers fumbled with the clasp before her breasts heaved forward from the freedom. She let out a breath and pulled the cups down, pretending to wait for some imaginary director to say “cut.” When Trent made no move to touch her, she faced him.
He held out his hand and smiled. “I’ll take that, too.” He placed her bra on top of her other clothes. How could he sound so detached when her tits were staring him in the face? This was a good man.
“Nice butterfly. Got any more surprises for me?”
“You’ve seen it all.”
“Not quite.”
Dressed only in her panties, she’d never felt more vulnerable. Maybe her fantasy was stupid. The discomforting fact was that this wasn’t really her fantasy but a made-up one.
Fine. This was her real fantasy, dammit.
“I need to adjust you.” He placed his camera on the ground and moved closer.
He lowered her arms to the side and pulled back her shoulders. Her traitorous nipples hardened and stood up. Trent leaned over and kissed the hollow right below her neck. She tensed.
“Relax. I won’t eat you. I can’t have you all stressed out if I want to get the perfect shot.”
True. She inhaled and tried to force the tightness from her shoulders. He must have felt she needed a little more convincing, for he lifted both tits and rubbed the tips with the rough pad of his thumb. My God. Her knees nearly bent from the divine tingling racing up her body. His confident fingers made her moan out loud, which definitely was not good. She was supposed to act afraid and unsure, not like this was the most wonderful moment of her life. Her jumbled brain kept forgetting her role.
“Tiffany, I’m going to suck on your nipples to get them wet. The photo will look so much better that way. Okay?”
That was a good line. She swallowed and closed her eyes, not knowing if she could survive the assault without touching him. Her pussy was vibrating something fierce. She willed herself to stand still. “Okay.” How had he reduced her to only being able to speak one word?
His breath caressed the tips and she opened her eyes at the shockwave coursing through her. She had to force her gaze out to the vista. If she watched him, no telling what she’d do with her hands. He pinched the tips and she jumped.
“Easy. Let me take control. I know the image I want and I need you ready, needy, and willing. Understand?”
His voice came out rich and soothing. She only nodded because her brain had stopped functioning.
“That’s a good girl.”
His mouth captured her tit, and she tilted back her head. He bit down on her nipple, but the slight pain heightened her experience. She was enjoying this way too much. That wasn’t good. Without focus, she’d be careless. She needed to remember why she was here, but his touch seemed to erase all self-control.
Monroe, Melody S. - Undercover Fantasy [Fantasy Resort 2] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) Page 2
