Love Me Tonight - Four Erotic Romance Stories for Valentine's Day - Boxed Set

by Kayne, Kandi

  I looked at Perry incredulously and he smiled big showing all his perfect white teeth. “He would do something like that.” I slipped the red shoes on and planted my feet on the floor of the car then clicked my heels together. “There’s no place like home. There’s no place like home. There’s no place like home.”

  Perry cackled so hard I thought he was going to burst a lung.

  “Ha, ha. Can you take me home now?”

  Perry shook his head as he tried to compose himself. “He never said you had to do that, but I couldn’t resist.”

  I punched him in the arm and he continued to cackle as he pulled out of Greene’s parking lot.

  When I entered the house, I was surprised to hear the sound of cartoons coming from the living room. I walked through the foyer and found Luke stretched out on the sofa with Lucas asleep in his arms.

  “What happened? Is he okay?”

  A million scenarios went through my mind as to why Lucas would be home early: my parents got sick of his fussiness; he was running a high fever; he fell off their bed and cracked his head open.

  Luke shushed me as he glanced over his shoulder. He pointed the remote at the TV to turn it off as I came around the sofa. Lucas’s chubby cheek was mushed against Luke’s solid chest—it was no surprise Lucas preferred sleeping on Mommy.

  I sat next to Luke and softly stroked Lucas’s head. “What happened?” I whispered.

  “I was going to take you to Vegas, but then I realized that no matter where I took you, it would just seem like a cliché and neither one of us would be as happy as we are when we’re at home together.”

  I smiled as I realized we both had the same idea. “Do you know what I was going to give you for Valentine’s Day?”

  “A watch?”

  “Very funny. I was actually going to cook for you and give you the best blow job you’ve ever had in your life.”

  “Better than the one you gave me last night?”

  “Even better.”

  “What the fuck did I do to deserve you?”

  “You gave me three orgasms last night and one beautiful child last year. Not to mention this dress and these shoes. What the hell, Luke? Did you pick these out?”

  He smiled as he looked me up and down. “I had some help from Reese.” Reese Maxwell was Luke’s gorgeous fraternal twin sister. “She picked out the dress, but I remembered the shoes.”

  “I’m awfully dressed up to go nowhere.”

  “Dinner’s in the oven and the table is already set… on the bed.”

  I let out an adoring sigh. “What did I ever do to deserve you?”

  “You carried this spawn,” he said, as he laid a soft kiss on Lucas’s forehead. “And you carry my heart. I have to treat you right so you don’t drop it. That’s why I called Josh and told him he’s not allowed to call me after six p.m. After six I belong to you.”

  “Do you want me to put him down?”

  “I can do it. You get the dinner ready. It’s just some take-out I picked up on the way home.”

  I set up our Chinese take-out on fancy plates then placed them on the breakfast trays he laid on top of the bed. I cracked open a bottle of champagne, and by the time I got to the bedroom with our drinks, Luke was in the bedroom setting the trays of food on the floor.

  “I thought we were going to eat?”

  He took a glass of champagne from me and held it up. “What shall we toast to?”

  “How about we toast to gorgeous red shoes and deliciously looooong blow jobs?”

  “I’ll toast to that.”

  We clinked our glasses together and he downed his entire glass. I took a small sip of mine then made my way toward the nightstand on the other side of the bed.

  “What are you doing?” he asked, as he followed me.

  “I’m taking my pill.”

  “Take it when we’re done,” he said, as he grabbed my glass and gulped down the rest of my champagne.

  He dropped the glass on the carpet and gave me that smoldering look that always got him whatever he wanted. I reached for his belt buckle.

  “I knew you weren’t hungry,” he said, as he reached behind me to unzip my dress.

  “Oh, I’m hungry all right, just not for Chinese.”

  I pushed him onto the bed as my dress dropped to the floor and he stared up at me wide-eyed. I licked my lips as I watched his erection grow inside his boxer briefs.

  “That is so hot,” he said, as I kicked my dress aside and knelt before him.

  I slid his briefs down and tossed them aside as I breathed his scent. I raked my fingers down his chest as I positioned myself between his legs. I wrapped my fingers around the head of his beautiful erection and slid my hand down to stretch the skin nice and taut. I could sense the tension in his body as I licked the moisture off the tip.

  “Mmm….” I hummed.

  “Baby, you’re teasing me.”

  I licked my lips then wrapped them over my teeth as I took him into my mouth. He sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth and I slowly pulled my head back. I sucked gently on the tip then licked my way down to his balls. I took one into my mouth and sucked as I gently massaged it with my tongue.

  “Oh, fuck,” he moaned. “That feels good.”

  I pumped my fist slowly up and down his cock as I paid the other ball some attention then ran my tongue down the underside of his sac. I licked my way back up to his glorious erection and took him fully into my mouth.

  “Oh, yeah.”

  I bobbed my head about ten times before I pulled my head back and swirled my tongue around the sensitive ridge, paying close attention to the bottom side.

  “I don’t think I can take much more of this,” he groaned, as he reached down and pulled me up so I straddled him. “Sorry, baby, but I just want to be inside you.”

  I eased myself down onto his cock as I kissed him. His hands roamed over my breasts and my back before coming to rest on my waist. He lifted me up and down on top of him as I kissed the column of his throat.

  “I love you so much,” he said, as I took his face in my hands. “I will never do anything to jeopardize that.”

  “I love you, too, babe.” I kissed him hard as he came. “Let’s try to do this date thing at least once a month.”

  “Okay, but only if you promise me one thing.” He leaned his forehead against mine, panting as his cock throbbed inside me. “I want one more baby.”

  I grazed my fingers down his neck and over his chest before I kissed him slowly. He grabbed my butt and just like that his erection began to grow inside me. He flipped me roughly onto my back and slid me further up the bed.

  “Is that a yes?” he asked, as his hand slid under my knee and he sank deep into me.

  I gasped and dug my fingernails into his back. “Oh, yes,” I breathed. “That’s a big yes.”

  He leaned down and kissed my forehead. “Happy Valentine’s Day, baby.”

  Author’s Note - Cassia Leo

  If you enjoyed this story, read about Luke and Brina’s beginnings in the Luke series.

  Already read the Luke series? Check out Cassia’s Chase series or add her upcoming new adult contemporary romance, Relentless, to your to-read list on Goodreads. Relentless is scheduled for release March 1, 2013.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Cassia Leo loves her coffee, chocolate, and margaritas with salt. When she’s not writing, she spends way too much time watching old reruns of Friends and Sex and the City. When she’s not watching reruns, she’s usually enjoying the California sunshine or reading—sometimes both.

  Follow Cassia Leo’s blog to stay up to date on sequels. Stop by and chat with her on Facebook and Twitter. Thanks for reading!

  Story #2

  Green-Eyed Angel in Paris

  by Catou Martine

  Laine stood on the Daru staircase in the Denon Wing of the Musée Louvre and stared up the statue Winged Victory. Headless, armless, with one wing a plaster replica, what was left towering above her dated back to 190 B
C. As she contemplated her own insignificance in the presence of not only this artifact but everything housed in this palace-cum-museum, Laine was literally knocked off her feet.

  “Sorry, sorry! Bollucks what a clutz I am, are you all right?!”

  Splayed on the marble landing, surrounded by curious tourists, Laine looked up to see a hand reaching down to her. This hand was attached to an arm, within a suit-jacket sleeve, worn by a handsome but harried-looking man who happened to resemble an angel; the wings of the statue stretched out behind him in exactly the right position behind his back. Then the angel-man kneeled down and the illusion was broken. Which was a good thing because Laine was still sprawled in a most uncivilized position in a place that, it could be argued, represented the bastions of civilization. She blamed her new shoes.

  Pulling her knees together, she sat up, shaking the dizziness from her brain. The man, who was at least as beautiful as an angel, retrieved the brochures he had dropped and took her elbow to help her to her feet.

  “I was in a rush, not looking where I was going. Are you hurt?”

  His startling green eyes bore into hers. Was she hurt? Should she launch into the whole truth of it? That hurt was the whole reason for this mad-dash getaway to Paris? That her heart and her ego were shattered beyond recognition?

  When she didn’t answer right away, he said, more specifically, “Are you scraped or broken? Should I get a medic?”

  His brow furrowed seriously and he glanced surreptitiously at his watch. Right, he was in a hurry. That’s why he had knocked her down in the first place.

  She shook her head. No, she wasn’t hurt from the fall. She was hurting, but not from this.

  “Do you speak English?” he said with newfound concern. “I just assumed you were American. Aren’t you?”

  Laine found her voice. “Yes. Yes, I’m from the states. California. San Francisco to be exact.”

  He revealed a gorgeous toothy smile that made his green eyes twinkle.

  “I knew it! It was in the way you fell. You didn’t scream. Americans are tough that way.”

  Was that supposed to be a compliment? She wasn’t sure what to say so she just smiled her best smile, trying to match his.

  “Sorry, was that rude?” he said. “Probably. I don’t normally go around predicting nationalities by knocking people of their feet. I really am terribly sorry.”

  Terribly sorry.

  “You’re English?” said Laine hesitantly. She was never good with accents. He could have been from Australia, New Zealand, or South Africa. She was always getting those ones mixed up.

  “Good guess. I’m visiting from London.”

  “Oh.” They stared at each other for a moment or two. He looked as if he were waiting for Laine to say something else, something less enigmatic than ‘oh’. He looked at his watch again.

  “I really am late for a meeting. Sorry again.” He headed toward the steps.

  “Sure. No problem,” said Laine, turning and lifting her hand to give a small wave, but he already had his back to her, and she felt foolish waving and smiling to someone who had nearly injured her, regardless of his heavenly good looks.

  She grabbed onto the strap of her purse to keep her hand busy and was about to go up the stairs—she had to see the Mona Lisa, of course, and that would take some navigating in these silly heels—when the clumsy Englishman said, “Pardon me, Miss San Francisco?”

  He was halfway down the stairs and had turned back. He skipped a couple of steps back up, but still remained several steps below her.

  Looking up at her with that gorgeous smile he said, “I didn’t get your name. I’m Colin Ellington.” He held out his hand and she would have to take at least one step toward him if she wanted to shake it. She wanted to.

  “Laine Dixon. Pleased to meet you.”

  “The pleasure’s mine.” He met her gaze again and she tried very hard not to turn away. She lasted only two seconds.

  “Laine, would you like to share coffee with me?”

  Laine smiled to herself. “You have a meeting. You’re late.”

  “After,” he said. “I’ll be about an hour. That’ll give you time to see the Mona Lisa. That’s what you’re here for, right?”

  Was she such a predictable American tourist? Then again, seeing the Mona Lisa was high on the agenda for most people visiting the Louvre.

  “Not only…” she said.

  “Of course not,” he said. “I didn’t mean to be rude. Again. One of my bad habits. Sometimes I speak before I think.” He frowned briefly. “Well?” He glanced at his watch again.

  “Did you think before you asked me for coffee?” she joked.

  He laughed. “So in an hour then? I’ll meet you outside by the large pyramid?” He backed down a few steps waiting for her answer.

  “Sure.” She nodded. “An hour. Large pyramid.”

  Colin Ellington from London broke into another dazzling smile and then dashed away.

  The Mona Lisa was so much smaller than Laine imagined it would be. Plus it was behind glass and roped off. A large crowd milled about, thickening around the curve of rope, taking sound-effect flash-free snapshots with their smart phones.

  She wondered how many people here were checking something off their bucket list, like she was. Not that she’d admit that. She could wax on about the genius of da Vinci if she wanted to (he really was a Renaissance genius who probably would have been diagnosed ADHD had he been born in this era) and the importance of art history and the museums established to contain and make that art accessible. She was part of the art education system, after all, as Director of Operations for San Francisco’s de Young Museum. It was her duty to visit museums while on holiday. Plus she would be able to write off her admission ticket.

  Not that this was a business trip. This was a heartache retreat, and a salt-in-the-wound one at that. Didn’t it make complete sense to go to Paris, city of love, over Valentine’s Day, just after you’d been dumped? She’d given herself a proverbial kick in the butt after she’d authorized the credit card transaction on the Last Minute Deals site. Who could resist a $750 airfare plus seven nights’ stay in a studio apartment in Paris? And one of Richard’s scoffing comments had haunted her ever since they’d first started dating two years earlier: “You work for a museum and you’ve never seen the Mona Lisa?”

  She’d never been to Florence either, and that had been a bone of derision as well, but there were no cheap tickets to Italy to be found, so Florence had been added to her bucket list. Next summer, she’d promised herself. She would work extra hours to save up enough to have a couple of weeks to linger there, and by then she hoped she wouldn’t be hearing Richard’s condescending voice in her head anymore.

  He had broken up with her before Christmas, the worst time for a break up—when gifts are already bought and visits to family already planned. She hated him for his bad timing, but it hadn’t stopped there. By New Year’s she had found out he was seeing someone else—surely someone he’d had his eye on before he broke up with her—and then last week, a friend of hers had leaked that Richard was planning to propose to his rebound on Valentine’s Day. All Laine wanted to do was escape. So she did. Nothing like a credit card and the internet to make fantasies come true.

  Laine checked her phone and saw that it was ten minutes less than the hour Colin had stipulated. Should she go to the pyramid? Would he even show up? Her feet were already sore and her head felt cottony from museum air and the heavy energy that surrounded old art. So many stories clung to each piece, and to Laine it often felt like walking through a thick physical fog of things she could sense but not reach out and touch, let alone comprehend. This mysterious effect had initially attracted her to the art world but was also a force she had to contend with and sometimes it won, especially in the big old European institutions. She would love to lie down on one of the benches and have a nap. She’d done that once at the de Young after hours and it had been the most delightful nap of her life. But if she tried that
here as a visitor, one of the docents would rouse her and gently escort her to the exit. No napping was one of the rules.

  Some fresh air would rouse her energy, and she was curious to see if the handsome Englishman would show up. What did she have to lose? In fact, she might have something to gain. Not long after she and Richard had broken up she had, in a fit of sorts, added something to her bucket list: Have meaningless sex with a stranger. Even after her fit had passed, she hadn’t been inclined to remove this item. Nor had she had the chance to cross it off. In fact, she’d even tucked a single condom in her wallet as a lucky charm, but she’d yet to cash in on its luck.

  Laine’s bucket list was comprised of things she wanted to do and also things she didn’t want to not do before she passed on from this world. Lying on her death bed, she did not want to regret certain things in life, and only recently did she realize that having meaningless sex with a stranger was one of them, even if it wasn’t one of the more lofty goals such as, sit with someone while they’re dying and help them experience peace and joy.

  Life was full of all kinds of experiences and some of them were trite but still worth having. Something else had made it on to Laine’s list after Richard dumped her: Don’t be so serious. This was a cheat item, and she indulged in a few of those. They were the things she couldn’t exactly check off, as they weren’t one-time events but rather ongoing decisions or attitudes. Another was: Act courageously.

  As she crossed the main entrance hall of the Louvre she realized these two cheat items supported the meaningless sex one. Her heart skipped as she silently prayed her sexy English gent would show as promised.

  Constructed of metal and multiple triangles of gray glass only slightly darker than the February sky, the large pyramid seemed to erupt out of the Cours Napoléon.

  Laine stood at one corner of the pyramid, not far from the main entrance, which, even mid-week in winter, thronged with tourists. She realized that it was going to be difficult to pick Colin out of this crowd. She hardly remembered what he looked like, though after wandering the museum halls for an hour she’d had plenty of time to relive what it felt like to have seen him and touched his hand–all fluttery and warm inside with a delicate bloom between her legs—but the finer details were lost on her now. She thought his suit jacket had been navy and the shirt under it a light blue, but with this weather he’d probably retrieved a winter coat from the coat check and was no doubt wearing a scarf (all European men seemed to wear them in winter).