The Seduction of Kinley Foster (What Happens in Vegas)

by Lisa Wells

  She glared at him—and it wasn’t easy to glare when your head wanted to die. But she did it anyway because how dare he make fun of her dancing. He was the one who wouldn’t win if he was in a dance off between himself and a stuffed turtle. “Well, watching you dance is like watching a nerd with his hand in the air and the teacher won’t call on him.” They’d been paired up to take dance lessons before her brother’s wedding, because they were to be a part of the wedding party dance. The lessons had been agony.

  He gave her a somber expression. “If I forget to tell you before you leave to go home, I think you’re beautiful. And funny. And the man who finally makes you forget to distrust—the man who finally wins your heart—is going to be one lucky bastard.”

  She took another drink of coffee to buy herself a moment to process what he’d said. “Why are you being so nice to me?”

  “I don’t have a reason to be mean to you.”

  “Well stop being nice. We’re enemies with benefits for the next few days. That’s all.”

  He set his cup back on the tray, then took her cup and did the same. He set it all aside then took both of her hands in his. “Kinley…I like you. I’m not going to lie about that. But, if it makes you feel better, I do owe you a couple of spankings.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Two hours later, it was time for Ian to stop mollycoddling Kinley and get down to the business of being a dominant. Hell. Did he just use the word mollycoddle in his thoughts? He needed to cutback how many Regencies he was representing.

  He took the bottle of water from her and placed it on the coffee table. She’d taken such a long shower he’d been tempted to call in Search and Rescue. Once she’d finished, he’d ordered room service and fed her toast and a scrambled egg.

  “Hey, I wasn’t done with my water,” she complained, showing all the signs of someone who was going to be grouchy for the rest of the day.

  “You said you wanted to be in a relationship where you were spanked when you misbehaved. Correct?” They were sitting on the couch, at opposite ends. She’d put on a pair of jeans and an antitrust T-shirt. Never waste your feelings on people you can’t trust.

  “Because you said I suck at writing sex.”

  She looked like hell. Like a woman with a hangover. And yet he was completely turned on by her. “And you agreed to the rules of the game we’re playing. Correct? I’m the dominant. You’re the submissive.”

  She curled her feet underneath her. “They were your rules, but I didn’t argue with them.”

  “Which means I get to spank you when you break the rules.”

  She sat up straight and moved her feet to the floor. “Which I haven’t done.”

  He maintained eye contact. “Lying about breaking the rules could count as breaking a rule.”

  She rubbed her forehead. “Okay. Maybe I broke one or two of your stupid rules.”

  Damn she was cute when she was grouchy. “Have you changed your mind about being in a D/s relationship with me?”

  She nibbled on her bottom lip, turning her body so that they weren’t looking at one another. “No.”

  He hid a smile, not wanting to provoke her into changing her mind. “Remember the scene in your book where your heroine is about to get spanked for the first time?”

  She looked back at him with a haughty expression. “Of course I do. I wrote it.”

  He nodded and remained quiet for a moment, choosing his next words carefully. “It’s a great scene, but you left out the emotions of your POV character. The reader has no idea what she’s feeling. If she’s excited. If she’s frightened. If she’s both.”

  He listened to the laughter of hotel guests walking down the hallway and waited for her response. Would she take the criticism as constructive or would she get mad?

  She slowly turned back toward him and gave him a quizzical look. “She resists. Doesn’t that say what she’s feeling?”

  “Not all of it. Why is she resisting? Is she trying to figure out what it is about being spanked by a dominant that turns her on? Or is there another reason for resisting? Like she’s changed her mind? She doesn’t like the act as much as she thought she would?”

  She wrinkled her nose. “I thought adding too many thoughts would be boring.”

  “Too many would be. But you need some.”

  “Oh.” She nodded her head. Like what he’d said made sense.

  He shifted so that he was sitting in the middle of the couch. Enough with the verbal mentoring on how to be a better writer. Time for some physical mentoring. He patted his lap. “Take your jeans off and lay across my legs.”

  She jumped up. Hurried to the table. Grabbed the top of a chair and stood behind it as if it could protect her. “Now? You want to spank me now? Why?”

  He knew exactly why he wanted to spank her. He wanted to see her ass rosy from his hand again. But why he wanted to and why he was going to were two different things. He was going to spank her because of their agreement. “If I’m going to do my job as a mentor to you this week, then it’s necessary for me to keep my word and spank you when you’ve broken the rules.”

  “And then what?”

  “Then you go downstairs and attend the sessions like you planned.”

  She moved from one chair to the next, keeping as much distance between them as possible. “I don’t want to go downstairs. People will whisper.”

  Ian wanted to pull Kinley in his arms and assure her no one would make fun of her on his watch.

  But right now, he was playing the part of a dominant.

  A part he’d been thinking a lot about making a permanent part of his lifestyle. He wouldn’t chase her. She would come to him. “What is your safe phrase?”

  Kinley blinked. “Excuse me?”

  “The first time I spanked you, it wasn’t planned. This time is different.”

  She nibbled her lip. “Why is this time different?”

  “Because I’m in control of what I’m doing.”

  A look of doubt clouded her eyes. “Why a phrase and not a word?”

  “Because a phrase takes longer for the submissive to say. Not as likely to be a knee-jerk reaction because your bottom is stinging.”

  She chewed on her lip. “What happens when I use the safe phrase?”

  “I quit spanking.”

  “What if I said I love you?” she said in a matter of fact tone.

  The panic he would expect to feel at the declaration didn’t occur. Confusion, yes—but not panic. “What?”

  “What what?” She placed her hands on her hips and cocked her head like a diva.

  “What do you mean?”

  She laughed. “Don’t look so hopeful, I’m not telling you I love you.”

  He frowned. What sort of game was she playing? “You know damn well I didn’t give you a hopeful look. But if you don’t mean it, why did you say it?” Since when had his face become so easy to read?

  She gave him a smile so dazzling it could light up the Strip. “That’s my safe phrase.”

  He swallowed. Since when had she become so good at messing with his brain? “That’s your safe phrase.” He refused to analyze the emotions surfing inside of him. Refused to think about the taste of disappointment in his mouth.

  “Yes,” she said in a saucy voice.

  “Why?”

  Her mega-watt smile faded like the setting sun—not fast, but slow, like each thought going through her brain pushed it down a little further in the sky until suddenly it was gone. “Because it would take a lot to ever say that to a man, let alone to you.”

  He winced. “I get the part about not wanting to say it to me. But why not to any man?” Was that his fault?

  Her eyebrows pulled together. “Do you believe in love?”

  “I can’t wait to fall in love and have a soulmate.” Why did an image of her and him sitting in rocking chairs on a huge front porch overlooking a picket-fenced yard pop into his brain? And why were there little girls playing in the yard? Hell. Who was he kid
ding? He knew why. He’d been keeping up with her every way he knew how over the years. Waiting for his chance to come back into her life. Waiting to see if grown-up Kinley played havoc with his emotions the way young Kinley did.

  God. She was the reason he decided to represent romance writers. He’d been perfectly happy leaving that genre to other agents until her brother mentioned that she had a dream of someday being a romance writer.

  “Do you believe in love at first sight?” she asked him.

  She wasn’t the first female to ask him that question. Normally all of his defenses would fly up, and he’d be itching to escape the woman asking the question.

  But not this time.

  This time he found himself actually considering the question. Actually responding to it. “I think love at first sight is overrated. I get much more excited at the idea of falling in love with…” He stopped and clamped his mouth shut. Hell. He’d been about to say his best friend’s little sister. Where had that answer come from?

  “With?” she prompted.

  He shook the image and thoughts away. “With a rare steak and a double bourbon.” He glanced at his watch. “We’re out of time. There will be a spanking this evening. Right now, we have sessions to attend.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  The day took forever to end.

  Ian sat through fifteen pitches and attended a few sessions. He had lunch with an editor from Hachette. Kept an eye out for Kinley the whole day and never saw her. He’d thought about calling her or texting her, but that felt too much like a real relationship.

  Finally, they were alone in his suite. And the time had come for the spanking.

  He leaned against the bar. “Take your jeans off,” he said, aware his voice was low and rough. Not the calm tone he’d been attempting.

  She lifted her chin. Her eyes flashed with mutiny, but she reached for her waistband. She unsnapped her jeans and slipped them off.

  An ache to possess Kinley rocketed through his body. He took a deep breath and exhaled. Reminded himself of the role of the dominant. To be her protector, her strength, and her biggest fan. But mostly, to be in control.

  He’d figured it was a long shot that she would actually let him spank her when the time came. His heart drummed in his chest as he waited for her to comply. He needed to spank her, for himself as well as for her. This was the first step in her admitting he was a man she could trust—something he needed from her.

  She reached for her panties.

  Heat coiled in his stomach. “Leave them on.”

  Her long, toned legs were amazing. The scrap of silk panty was tantalizingly small. He pointed to the couch. “Lay down. With your head on your forearms and your ass in the air.” He folded his arms and waited.

  She set her lips in a stubborn line. Her breasts rose and fell with each breath under her T-shirt. She walked to the couch. Her movements were graceful, haughty, confident. So unlike the sixteen-year-old who’d literally fallen into his arms and asked him to take her virginity, back when she trusted him.

  She stretched herself across the couch, her bottom in the air, facing him.

  He ached to touch her. To explore her body. To give her the man-made orgasm she’d asked for the night before. But to do so would threaten his ability to finish the punishment. There would be time later for caresses.

  He crossed the room and reached for her panties and slid them halfway down her thighs.

  Her skin was creamy, unflawed. Her hips womanly, her ass voluptuous, perfect.

  She spread her legs slightly, and his blood heated.

  He could see her engorged, glistening sex. This aroused her. The realization caused his cock to harden. His muscles tensed. He imagined exploring between the plump folds of her sex. Anticipation pushed him to hurry, so they could get to the part that happened after punishment.

  “Before I spank you, I’m going to take a picture of you in the submissive position. When I’m finished, I’m going to take another picture of your bottom, branded from my hand.”

  “Why?”

  “Because being photographed is another angle of—what did you call it? Oh yeah, non-vanilla sex.”

  “Does it turn you on to snap shots of me in this submissive position?” Her voice sounded breathless.

  He stood over her and shook his head in wonder of her breathtaking sexiness. “If I told you the things I want to do to you right now, bent over with your panties pulled down, you would faint from the shock.”

  …

  Kinley thought about telling him no, he couldn’t take pictures, but what he said made her more than just a little aroused. She’d never thought about being photographed. But now that it was about to happen, a barrage of ideas and other scenarios in which he could photograph her poured through her brain. Damn. She might come the minute he spanked her. “When this week is over, you have to promise to delete them.”

  She had spent the day writing. An idea for a novella, based on what she and Ian were doing, came to her during her shower. She’d skipped the sessions and found a quiet place to type. The story flowed from her fingers to the keyboard at an unbelievable rate…until she reached the ending. She was going to have to go back in and add a photo-shoot scene.

  He laid his hand on her bottom and rubbed.

  She jumped. Man, his hand was big. Did that mean the spanking would hurt more?

  “If I say yes, do you trust me to keep the promise?” he asked.

  She started to say no but realized she did trust him to delete the embarrassing photos. The realization caused something hot to rush up her throat. She didn’t do trust. Yet here she was…trusting. Him.

  A dynamic had changed between them.

  They were bonding. When did that happen?

  “I didn’t hear your answer.”

  “Yes.” How could one word be so full of meaning? She wasn’t sure how she felt about bonding with Ian. It was one thing to have incredible sexual experiences with him. But trust?

  He removed his hand.

  She turned her head to see him.

  He took his phone out of his pocket and took a picture of her looking up at him with her head on her arms, her ass in the air, and her panties pulled down.

  Then he stepped behind her and took a picture from that angle.

  “Spread your knees a little.”

  She did, and her heart thumped against her chest like a woodpecker trying to peck its way out of a cage to get to its mate. Could he tell she was aroused?

  She noticed the bulge in his jeans. He was as aroused as she was.

  He took another picture. Then he walked back to her side and placed the phone—with the picture showing—on the couch beside her arms so she could see herself. He laid a hand on her behind. Rubbed.

  The soft stroking relaxed her. “You’ll stop if I use my safe phrase?”

  “Of course. Tell me why I’m spanking you.”

  “Because I broke the rules.” What would her heroine say? Because you’re an ass who told me I can’t write sex?

  “Correct. I’m spanking you to remind you of who is in charge in this relationship. Not to bully you.”

  She swayed her hips, wanting him to slide his fingers between her legs. To feel her wetness. “And to teach me about kinky sex.” This was kinky for her. Would they get around to exploring the other avenues of kink she’d mentioned? Their time was running out.

  “When engaging in the kind of sex you want to write about, someone’s the dominant partner. For us, that’s me.” He spread his fingers and squeezed her glutes. He leaned closer to her. “I’ll never lie to you. Do you believe me?”

  She glanced into his eyes. His expression gentle and loving. She tried not to shiver. Didn’t succeed. “I’m trying.” Was he telling the truth about Stacy? Had she hated him all these years unjustly? He’d asked her if she remembered their conversation the night before about Stacy. She’d lied—told him she didn’t. But she did.

  His jaw clenched. He placed one hand under her hips to ho
ld her in place and then administered the first slap.

  The contact stung, and she jumped. “Damn it. That hurt.” A good kind of hurt. Here was a man bold enough to be in charge. Strong enough to take over when she wanted to relax her guard.

  “This is for calling me a liar.” Three swift smacks landed on her bottom in the same place.

  Tears sprung to her eyes. I will not cry. She may be playing the part of a submissive, but she was going to play the part of a strong submissive. One with a mouth that would drive her dominant crazy.

  He stopped and rubbed. “Are you okay?”

  She nodded.

  “I can’t hear a nod.”

  She bit back a smile. “I’m just peachy.”

  “Good.” Three more, quick, hard thwacks scorched her bottom just above the crease where her bum and legs joined. “Those were for taking out your vibrator when I told you to leave it in.”

  She tried to roll away from him. To see how dominant he was going to play his role.

  He held her in place. “Do you have anything to say for yourself?”

  Dear Lord, he played the alpha beautifully. “I’m sorry. You had me so horny I couldn’t think straight.”

  “Who were you thinking about when you were singing?”

  She shook her head—didn’t answer.

  He landed another swat on her cheeks. “When I ask you a question, you must answer me.”

  She groaned. “Being satisfied by you.” She glanced up at him and gave him a sultry look. She wanted to distract him, so he’d be done with the spanking and get on with the pleasuring.

  He stroked her bottom. “Do you have a desire to have sex in a public place some day? Where others can watch?”

  She moistened her lips with the tip of her tongue. “Absolutely.” Maybe.

  His hand came down hard.

  She cried out in surprise. That one felt more real. “You’re hurting me.”

  “That was for tattling to your brother about Stacy, before I could speak to him.”

  She flushed. “You can’t spank me for something that happened in the past.” She collapsed on the couch and rolled over on her back before he could react. She kicked her panties off and tried to get up.