Two of a Kind: A Callaghan Family & Friends Romance

by Abbie Zanders

  His strokes became harder and faster, rocketing her toward her peak. She bit her lip to avoid the cry that wanted to tear loose from her throat, clamping down on him hard in a brutal, exquisite climax.

  Behind her, he cursed and shoved deeply, holding her in place while his cock throbbed out his release into the condom.

  He leaned against her back, nuzzled her neck. “Such a naughty girl,” he murmured.

  With that, he backed away, the doors opened, and then he was gone.

  Chapter Twelve

  The wide smile on Spencer’s face was genuine. The only way the evening could have been better was if he’d had more time with the sexy vixen, but those things were tricky. Each woman was unique when it came to seduction; each required something different, whether it be a bit of romance and a gentle hand or something darker, more carnal.

  Spencer had a gift for figuring out what that something was.

  Vexy, as he had come to think of her, was all about the power. Not a submissive—she was too strong-willed and confident for that—but she did need that show of dominance, that darker edge to get her off.

  That was what he had provided. Oh, much of it had been an illusion. Not the sex, of course. That had been raw and primal enough that his heart was still pounding. The exhibitionist aspect, however, hadn’t been quite as risky as it seemed. Having been on the wrong side of the paparazzi’s lenses more than once, he had no wish to compromise the woman, nor himself. As such, he had made arrangements beforehand, ensuring that no alarms would sound when he stopped the elevator, and no one below would be able to see anything clearly when he dimmed the lights.

  Vexy, his vexing, sexy vixen, hadn’t known that, though, and with very little actual attention on his part, she had practically melted in his hands.

  He could still taste her on his tongue. Surprisingly sweet, with the perfect hint of feminine musk. It was if she knew exactly what would turn him on. He could have spent hours between those toned, silken thighs and enjoyed every minute of it. His cock started hardening again just thinking about it.

  He almost wished he hadn’t walked away and pushed the Down button on his way out. That he could walk right back into that elevator, scoop her up into his arms, take her back to his suite, and spend the rest of the night pleasuring her.

  The thought had merit. But, as much as he wanted to do just that, he wouldn’t. She wouldn’t want him to. It was too soon.

  If he wasn’t mistaken, and he rarely was, she enjoyed the game aspect as much as the sex itself. The anticipation of a next time, wondering if there would be a next time, would make their next encounter even better.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Kayla awoke amidst a sea of soft linens in a bed that was by far the most comfortable bed she had ever slept in. She stretched lazily, a smile curving her lips when she felt the slight soreness between her legs.

  Last night’s indulgence had been quick. Carnal. And exactly what she had needed.

  Her grin widened. She had been right. Spencer Dumas did know his way around a woman’s body. That added edge of danger—the fear of being seen—well, that had only intensified the experience. Just the thought of being discovered had made her wet, and when he had touched her with those long, skilled fingers ...

  Her nipples hardened, and her sex tingled just thinking about it.

  She thought briefly of building on that blossoming arousal. Her hand was already skimming along her naked belly when she changed her mind. It was silly, perhaps, but she didn’t want to ruin the memory of her perfect climax just yet. Anything she did with her own hand wouldn’t compare.

  Closing her eyes, she relived the experience in her mind. The feel of the cold, hard brass railings beneath her hands while his hot, hard length invaded her from behind. The scent of his expensive cologne mixed with the earthy musk of an aroused man filling the small, confined space around them. Her mouth watered, wishing she’d had a chance to taste him, too.

  It was only supposed to be a one-time thing, but she decided then and there that, if the opportunity presented itself again, she would take it. She wasn’t going to hold her breath, though. Chances were, that one brief, anonymous encounter would be the only one they had.

  The thought was surprisingly disappointing. Kayla had known what she was signing up for the moment she had made her decision. She had walked into that elevator without her panties on and her eyes wide open.

  She hadn’t expected it to be that good, though.

  When was the last time a man had played her body so skillfully? Or gotten her so worked up with so little effort? When was the last time she had come hard enough to make her vision go white and dance with tiny stars?

  Not any time in recent history, that was certain. She wondered if she would run into him again, and if so, if he might be up for an encore.

  Kayla forced herself out of bed when she felt her body warming up to uncomfortable levels. She did not and would not chase a man again. Ever. If their paths crossed and he was up for it, so be it. If not, well, she had gotten exactly what she wanted—great sex and no strings.

  That settled, Kayla ordered room service then took a leisurely shower. She ate on her private balcony, watching the waves and thinking about how she would spend the rest of the day. Perhaps some snorkeling, or maybe she would knock an item off her bucket list and try parasailing. She had picked up some brochures on island tours at the front desk, but the thought of leaving the all-inclusive resort didn’t appeal to her. Her time was too limited, and she had too much right here to experience.

  By the time she finished her meal of a fluffy egg white and spinach omelet, succulent tropical fruit, and to-die-for coffee, she had made up her mind. She was going to do it all. Snorkeling, followed by parasailing, and then she was going to see about the world-class spa the website boasted about.

  Chapter Fourteen

  “Yes, Father, I understand what you are saying. I just don’t happen to agree with you.”

  Spencer looked out at the pristine white sands and crystalline turquoise waters, searching for patience. He had been hoping to avoid this conversation until he returned to Pine Ridge, but Tristan Dumas wasn’t one to be easily put off.

  “Grow up, Spencer,” the elder Dumas lectured. “The stockholders find your continued philandering and lack of focus worrisome. They want a steady hand at the helm.”

  Spencer laughed. He might hold the title of CEO, but there was never any question who actually ran the company. He could disappear for weeks or even months at a time and the Dumas corporate machine would continue to hum like a Swiss timepiece. His father would make sure of it.

  “And shackling me to some Fortune 500 magnate’s daughter is going to steady my hand? Seriously, Father, you know better than that.”

  “What I know is that Dumas Industries, the company your great-grandfather started, is not your first priority and that needs to change. Your focus is divided, and it shows.”

  Divided focus. His father had just reduced the last three years of Spencer’s dream project, Sate, as nothing more than an insignificant hobby. The old man had made no secret of the fact that he thought Spencer was wasting time and money that could have been better spent elsewhere in “legitimate endeavors.” That was one of the reasons Spencer had fronted the capital and secured his own investors outside of the wide-reaching DI umbrella. The elder Dumas might think he knew everything, but he didn’t.

  “Chelsea Chamberlain was raised to be the perfect executive wife,” his father continued. “Beautiful, intelligent, and ruthless. She has her priorities straight and understands the importance of discretion. Her dalliances aren’t publicized, nor do they make the stockholders nervous. She is also her father’s right hand.”

  Good for her, Spencer wanted to say, but held his tongue. Chelsea Chamberlain was everything his father had said and more. As the daughter of one of the savviest businessmen in America, her public relations team had to be top rate. She was rarely seen in public, and when she was, it was never on
the arm of anyone worth less than eight figures. Spencer, however, also knew she took more lovers than he did and was far less discriminating.

  “You need a strong woman at your back, Spencer.”

  Spencer’s thoughts immediately went to the woman in the green dress. Vexy. She exuded strength and confidence, and he would bet she could be a real wildcat if things came down to it. The thought made him smile.

  “Caldwell Chamberlain and I have already reached a tentative agreement, one that will benefit both of us.”

  “No, Father,” Spencer said firmly. “I am not marrying Chelsea Chamberlain. If and when I do decide to cut off my balls and hand them over to a woman, it will not be because you made a backroom deal. As for the stockholders, well, tell them to check their portfolios. DI stock is doing just fine, and their deep pockets are fatter than ever.”

  “Don’t be crass. This merger will secure the future of the company for the next twenty years.”

  “Then you marry her,” Spencer said acidly. “Divorce number five, or is it six, just finalized, didn’t it?”

  There was a heavy pause. Spencer could picture his father growing an unattractive shade of puce, that telltale tic at the corner of his left eye making an appearance. For just a moment, Spencer felt a pang of sympathy for the old man. It passed quickly.

  His father’s heavy sigh sounded clearly through the tiny speaker. “You are not being reasonable, Spencer.”

  “I’m not being reasonable?”

  “Marry the chit. Seal the deal. Then do whatever the hell you want, just keep it discreet.”

  “The answer is still no.”

  “That is unacceptable.”

  “Deal with it.”

  Spencer disconnected the call, then tossed the phone on the table, grabbed his sunglasses, and set out for the beach.

  That sense of smug contentment he had been enjoying all morning was gone. All it took was one ridiculous phone call to get him feeling restless again. If it had been anyone else, he would have laughed and walked away, but his father had a way of getting under his skin and making him doubt himself.

  Spencer had spent his entire life trying to please the old man. He was beginning to think it was an impossible task. If pulling a profit within six months of operation in a highly competitive industry didn’t warrant a nod of approval or a word of praise, what would?

  As he made his way around the pool and toward the sand, he scanned the guests, looking for a familiar face. He nodded, offered friendly greetings, and received a few visual invitations he tucked away for later, maybe. He needed to get rid of some excess energy, but he had someone specific in mind for that.

  He paused when he realized what he was doing. Was he really seeking out a woman?

  Yes, came the unnerving reply.

  The woman in the green dress had been haunting his thoughts since he had left her in the elevator the night before. Once wasn’t enough.

  Even though he had been the one driving, so to speak, she had embraced her own pleasure and had played an active part. He did so enjoy a woman who wasn’t afraid to take what she wanted and demand more.

  Their time together had been hard and fast, carnal. As good as it had been, though, he wanted more. He wanted to take his time, drawing out her pleasure until she begged for release. He wanted to feel her beneath him. Riding him. Straddling his face. On her knees before him as she looked up at him with those gorgeous eyes ...

  He told himself it was just the stress. It meant nothing, except that he had been fortunate to find a compatible bed partner, someone who seemed to like the same things he did.

  That was what Sate was all about, right? Satisfaction. Indulgence.

  He needed this. Deserved it after all his hard work. One more time wouldn’t hurt. She didn’t know who he was; he didn’t know who she was. After this brief respite from reality, they would never see each other again.

  Feeling determined, Spencer set about his mission. He was going to find her. Then he was going to fuck her out of his system and get back on track.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Kayla sighed and melted into the massage table. Snorkeling had been fun, though it had taken a few tries to get the hang of it. Once or twice she forgot to breathe only through her mouth and ended up with an unexpected snout full of briny water. On the plus side, her nasal and sinus passages were cleaner than they had ever been.

  Parasailing had been exhilarating. The only downside to that was that she had been paired with a woman who screeched and screamed through a good part of it.

  The guy running the boat thought it would be a good idea to put two newbies together. The other woman had been visibly terrified, so he had thought it might calm her to have someone go up with her. It was a good idea, in theory.

  Kayla had a feeling she would feel the woman’s grip on her forearm long after the visible bruises faded.

  She was done with the exciting stuff. Now it was time to relax and enjoy what was left of her three-day dream getaway.

  Soothing music played in the background, the same kind they played in her yoga class. Oil diffusers placed throughout the room filled the air with a pleasant mix of vanilla, sandalwood, and patchouli.

  Naked beneath the draped white sheet, she waited patiently for the masseuse. She had opted for the full-body package and wondered if she would get Olga, the gorgeous Nordic beauty, or Sven, the Chris Hemsworth look-alike. At this point, either would be fine with her. In addition to being physically tired, she had used a lot of muscles her thirty-something body wasn’t used to using and was looking forward to a good, thorough rub down.

  When the door closed softly behind her, Kayla didn’t bother opening her eyes; she could hear the masseuse moving around the private room in preparation. Then fragrant, hot oil drizzled over her back and shoulders. She groaned softly when she felt strong, masculine hands begin to work her overtaxed muscles. Sven it was.

  It felt heavenly. No, better than heavenly. Sven had some magical hands. He worked slowly and methodically, starting with the knots at the base of her neck and working his way outward and down. She could have sworn she heard him suck in a breath when he pulled the sheet past her backside.

  She smiled at the floor, glad now that she had listened to her trainer and kept squats and mountain-climbers in her workout routine. It was always nice when her hard work was appreciated.

  Her mind went back to the elevator again, and her smile widened. Spencer Dumas had seemed pretty appreciative of her ass, too. She remembered his murmured sounds of approval. The way his long fingers knew just how to touch and stroke ...

  ... kind of like they were doing right now.

  Kayla’s eyes popped open and she inhaled deeply. The air still held the scents of essential oils, but it held something else now, too. A spicy, masculine scent she would forever associate with great sex.

  Wait. Spencer Dumas was giving her a massage?

  She must have tensed, because his hands stopped kneading and started caressing. She tried turning over, but those strong hands held her down as he chuckled wickedly.

  Instantly, exhaustion vanished and a wave of pure, unbridled lust washed over her. Her nipples pebbled against the table and her core clenched in eager anticipation. What was it about this man that shot her libido from zero to sixty in a heartbeat?

  He made another pass of her body, catering to every inch with consummate skill and precision.

  Then he added his lips.

  Soft kisses pressed along her skin, starting at her shoulders. When he reached her spine, two, long fingers slipped between her folds and started stroking while his tongue mimicked the slow, agonizing strokes. He worked his way down, and when he reached the curves of her ass, he let her feel his teeth. He scraped them over her flesh, pausing every now and then to take a nibble. It was quite possibly the most erotic, sensual thing she had ever felt; the wet spot on the sheet beneath her sex confirmed it.

  For a few, brief moments, he pulled away. Then her arousal shot up another l
evel when she heard the faint but unmistakable sound of clothes hitting the floor. She held her breath, her heart pounding furiously in her chest, matching the aching throb between her legs.

  She felt him pulling his body—his naked body—up onto the table. Up onto her.

  Spencer’s warm, welcomed weight settled against her back, the coarse hairs on his legs tickling her outer thighs and calves.

  “You are so fucking hot,” he whispered, pressing more kisses to the back of her neck. His hips moved slowly, his cock stroking along the oiled cleft of her ass. “Such a gorgeous ass. I want to fuck it. But touching you has me so primed I don’t have the patience to do things right. I need to be inside you. Now.”

  “Then do it,” she rasped.

  He raised his hips and positioned his cock at her entrance, then pushed inside her, her copious wetness easing his passage. They both groaned audibly as he filled and stretched her.

  “You feel so good,” he murmured as he bottomed out. “Last night was hard and fast. Today, I’m going to make you beg for release.”

  She whimpered—she was not a whimperer—and lifted to take him deeper.

  He began to stroke. Long, slow, punishing strokes that had her biting her lip to keep from crying out. With each one, he nudged and raked over her special spot, building the pressure inside her, keeping her climax just out of reach. Her resolve melted and, before long, she was panting and doing exactly as he had said.

  “Please,” she bit out.

  “Please what?” he asked, though she was pleased to hear his voice sounded strained and breathless, too.

  “Please make me come.”

  “That’s my girl,” he praised.

  His strokes became harder and faster, meeting the demands she was now crying out. Within seconds, she was tightening around him and he was grunting out his release.