Past Midnight

by Jasmine Haynes

  The woman didn’t say a word. There was only the rasp of a zipper on the night breeze.

  Faith, that devil whispering in her ear, peeked around the end of the hedge. Seated on a stone bench, the woman had a firm grip on her partner’s penis, slowly pumping him as his head fell back in total ecstasy.

  “Christ, yes. Suck it, sweetheart.”

  “Don’t rush me.” The voice was soft with seduction, husky with desire, sultry with power.

  The couple cavorted in the shelter of the overhanging trees, and Faith couldn’t make out faces. Somehow, their very anonymity fueled her own fantasies.

  “Please,” he begged.

  Faith’s nipples beaded against the soft fabric of her dress, and a throb started low in her belly, streaking down between her legs. In an instant, she was damp.

  Oh yes, she could almost feel her own hand wrapped around his erection, hard flesh begging her to caress the tip, to suck the tiny drop of come.

  She wasn’t a virgin. She’d had moments when she’d almost believed she was desirable. Those moments hadn’t become anything lasting, and the few men she’d been with had gotten bored quickly. Or they were after her money. Just as her father said.

  This, however, was the stuff of her sexually explicit fantasies, where she could have everything done to her and do everything in return. Where she asked for what she wanted without fear of rejection and indulged in all the erotic, sensual acts she’d never done but wanted desperately to experience.

  The woman bent her head. Faith could almost taste him, feel him between her lips. Without conscious thought, her hand lifted to her breast, her palm fondling one tight nipple as she watched. Watching was naughty but so incredibly sexy.

  Then the woman took his penis all the way, her mouth fusing to him, his fingers tangling in her hair. Whispers, groans, sounds all around her, making Faith almost a participant in what they were doing. Her hand slid down the front of her dress, over her abdomen until her fingers lightly pressed her mound.

  She should have walked away. But her feet wouldn’t move. Nothing on heaven and earth could make her stop watching.

  CONNOR FOLLOWED FAITH CASTLE INTO THE MOONLIT GARDENS, giving her plenty of lead to disguise the fact he was tailing her. When he caught up, the meeting would appear accidental.

  Over the past few weeks, as he’d dutifully squired her around town, Trinity Green told him everything there was to know about Faith. She was almost thirty, a schoolteacher, and she loved children beyond anything. She also happened to be the heiress to Castle Heavy Mining. According to the Trinity gospel, Faith was a paragon. Could there actually be such a thing? Trinity had extolled her virtues as if she were putting the woman on the auctioning block. The question was why. What was the benefit in touting Faith?

  Whatever her reasons, Trinity had told him everything important about Faith. Or so he thought. She hadn’t mentioned Faith’s abundant body. Far from a model-thin beauty queen, Faith was round and curvy. A man could hold Faith in his arms and not worry about breaking her. Her breasts were a bounty. Her derriere begged for a man’s caress. Her hair, cascading past her shoulders, was the color of an exploding sun, all reds and golds.

  Faith lacked the classic aristocratic features revered in today’s world. Her face was round, her nose a tad snub, and her mouth small, but beauty was so much more than bone structure. It was the whole package, inside and out. Trinity had given him a hint of Faith’s soft center, but her full impact hit him when she laughed. From across the dance floor, the throaty sound shot straight to his cock. That’s when he started imagining her on her knees taking him into her mouth, when he’d envisioned sinking his fingers into her hair and holding her to him as he came.

  Yes, Faith Castle was a pleasant surprise. A lush creature begging for him to plumb the depths others casually dismissed. He hadn’t imagined that seducing her would be so pleasurable.

  Ahead of him, she stopped at a hedge, leaning forward slightly to peer around it.

  Connor stole closer. Hushed voices reached him, then indistinguishable sounds. Faith seemed rooted to the spot like a statue hewn in place. She didn’t hear him as he circled, coming up on her left. The fingers of her right hand found purchase in the hedge branches, as if to steady herself.

  Then he saw what so fascinated her.

  Well, well, well, Faith Castle was indeed a bundle of contrasts. Knee-length cocktail dress, well-hidden cleavage, moderate heels on her shoes. One thought prim and proper.

  But there she was, standing in the flower-scented garden watching a woman go down on her lover. A breath whispered from Faith’s lips as the man drove his cock deep. Her hand left the hedge and skated down the front of her dress, brushing her abdomen, then pressed between her legs.

  The sight sucked Connor’s breath from his lungs, and his cock surged. Her breasts crested against her dress. Diamond-tipped nipples begged for his mouth. That luscious body was meant for loving, and if Trinity was to be believed, Faith hadn’t seen much of that lately. Fucking idiots, the men who passed her over because of a mere body-type fad. She wanted passion. Hell yes, she wanted it badly.

  He wanted to give it to her. He’d stumbled onto the perfect supplement to his plan, the ideal stratagem to draw her in.

  He hadn’t imagined securing his future could be this sweet.

  IN HER FANTASIES, FAITH FELT AN ARM WRAP AROUND HER WAIST, pulling her against hard male thighs and a raging erection. Warm, enticing breath bathed her hair.

  “You like watching, don’t you?”

  “Yes,” she murmured.

  Her own voice snapped her out of her reverie. Her body stiffened in his embrace. The touch was tangible, his words real, her orgasm on the horizon.

  “Let me watch with you.”

  Smooth and sultry, his pitch seduced her as easily as the tableau in front of them. All she had to do was permit his caress, his nearness. She didn’t have to act, simply allow him to do as he would. It was so effortless. He pulled her closer, rubbing his body sinuously against her back, bottom, and thighs.

  His hand slipped down her abdomen and covered her own. He moved his fingers over hers, rotating gently, caressing her.

  “He’s going to blow in her mouth,” he murmured.

  Faith’s breath rasped in her throat. She was dizzy and drunk on sex, on the kinkiness of watching, of letting some stranger take liberties with her body.

  Under the trees in front of them, the man groaned louder, his hips pumping frantically. He held his partner’s head, taking her mouth with his body rather than the other way around. He clenched, held, then cried out.

  Lips dropped to Faith’s neck, bit gently. Fingers rolled her nipple, pinched. Between her legs, he guided her hand rhythmically back and forth across her covered pussy.

  She almost came when he pressed up and in, hard. Ripples of pleasure shot out from her clitoris. She bit her lip, closed her eyes, and savored the sensation.

  Then he yanked her back into hiding on the other side of the hedge just as the male half of the tableau before them spoke.

  “Jesus, that was good.”

  The woman’s answer was smug, as was her voice. “I know.”

  “Let me fuck you.”

  “You’ll get my dress dirty. Tomorrow. Doesn’t your wife have tennis lessons or something? Meet me at the usual place.”

  Behind the hedge, Faith’s mystery man held her close in the circle of his arms.

  “Shh,” he whispered.

  As if he knew she was about to twist away and say . . . something. Such as, How dare you?

  There was the rustle of clothing and what sounded like a belt buckle, then the man’s voice again. “You’re such a fucking tease.”

  “You love it. And Lisa doesn’t swallow.”

  “And Kitchum wouldn’t be able to fill your mouth with that much come. Don’t tell me you don’t love it.”

  God. It was old man Kitchum’s wife with the face-lift and Lisa’s had-none-of-his-own husband.

 
And just who was the man holding her?

  “Thank you,” he whispered, “for letting me join you.”

  She knew his voice then, the seductive, rough tones she’d first heard not a half hour ago.

  Connor Kingston. Trinity’s new dish.

  She struggled a little in his arms as the lovers drifted off in the opposite direction. They’d part soon and head back to the ballroom. To Lisa with her horizontal stripes, and Kitchum, well, who knew if he was even here? Faith hadn’t seen him.

  “Let me go.”

  He shook his head as he once again dropped his lips to her neck. Did he even realize who she was? Or had he merely been turned on by the sight of a woman watching a sex scene played out in the moonlight?

  Then he stroked her chin and turned her face to his. For a fraction of a second, his eyes locked with hers. No surprise, no horror. He had known exactly who he was touching. Faith almost drowned in his glittering gaze a moment before he took her lips with his. He tasted of the evening’s champagne and something else—hot, hungry male. Greedy, ravenous, his tongue swooped in and stole her breath.

  With a kiss like that, he could make a woman do anything.

  His touch, then his kiss had her so hot, restless, and bothered, she had to battle her own needs far more than she had to fight him. She tried to wriggle away. “I have to go.”

  “Not before we make a date.”

  That made her stop. “A date?”

  “Tomorrow evening.”

  “Why on earth would you want to go out with me?” Screw her, maybe. But a date?

  He chuckled, his chest rumbling against her back. “Because I like the way you laugh.”

  “The way I laugh?” She was repeating like an idiot.

  “In the ballroom. Trinity made you laugh.”

  No one had ever thought her laugh was special. She wanted to accept his invitation, but the whole incident was a fluke. And she was the one who’d get hurt. “You think I’m easy because of what just happened. But that was a strange combination of events, and it’ll never happen again.” Except in her fantasies.

  “Not a date, then. Coffee.”

  “No.” She squirmed against him once more.

  “I’m not letting you go until you agree.”

  “Why?” It was the dumbest thing to ask, making it sound as if she couldn’t understand why a man like him would want to see a woman like her again. But really, she didn’t understand.

  “I like your laugh, and I like the way you feel in my arms.”

  He was seducing her with just a few wonderful, tremendous, unbelievable words. He couldn’t mean them.

  “Meet me. Say yes. Please.”

  Dammit, the please did it. “Just coffee. And this will be the only time.”

  He sighed, his breath fluttering her unbound hair.

  She said it would be the only time, but she knew without much pressure, she’d do anything he asked. That’s how frighteningly hungry she was.

  HE HAD A KING KONG–SIZED HARD-ON FOR HER. SHE’D BEEN equally affected. He could have made her come with one more touch. A woman hadn’t felt that good in his arms since . . . not since he was teenager and still believed in love.

  Step one complete. He’d secured the first date. Connor had a plan for Faith Castle, a mutually advantageous plan.

  He’d considered Trinity Green for a few short weeks, but while she was beautiful, sweet, and loyal, she was a little too absorbed with outward appearances, not to mention she’d probably freak if she perspired during sex. Besides, he had nothing to offer Trinity in return for what he asked, and he didn’t intend making a one-sided deal that benefited only him. But with Faith, he had the one thing she wanted, and, according to Trinity, the thing Faith wasn’t sure she’d ever get.

  Yet, instead of pulling together a strategy for his campaign, all Connor could think of was the exquisite taste of her on his lips. That was a boon he hadn’t anticipated.

  Oh yeah, Faith was the one he wanted to marry. The moment he touched her, no other woman would do.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  With a bachelor’s degree in accounting from Cal Poly San Luis Obispo, Jasmine Haynes worked in the high-tech Silicon Valley for twenty years. Now, she and her husband live in the Redwoods with Star, the mighty moose-hunting dog (if she weren’t afraid of her own shadow), plus numerous wild cats (who have discovered that food from a bowl is easier than slaying gophers. It would be great if they got rid of the gophers, but no such luck). Jasmine’s pastimes, when not writing her heart out, are hiking, gardening, needlepoint, and brainstorming with writer friends in coffee shops. Jasmine also writes as Jennifer Skully. Please visit her website and blog at www.jasminehaynes.com and www.jasminehaynes.blogspot.com.

  Berkley Books by Jasmine Haynes

  PAST MIDNIGHT

  MINE UNTIL MORNING

  HERS FOR THE EVENING

  LACED WITH DESIRE

  (with Jaci Burton, Joey W. Hill, and Denise Rossetti)

  YOURS FOR THE NIGHT

  FAIR GAME

  UNLACED

  (with Jaci Burton, Joey W. Hill, and Denise Rossetti)

  SHOW AND TELL

  THE FORTUNE HUNTER

  OPEN INVITATION

  TWIN PEAKS

  (with Susan Johnson)

  SOMEBODY’S LOVER