Risk It: Paolo's Playhouse, Book 2

by Natasha Moore

  “Do you want ropes?” he snapped. She released his shirt abruptly and he took a step away. “Want me to tie you up? Or maybe you want to tie me up?” Jake and everyone else within hearing distance was taking in every word.

  She frowned. He didn’t blame her. “No, not really. I’m just sayin’.”

  He didn’t know why he was being such a jerk. Maybe guilt did that to a guy. He softened his tone. “You let me worry about that, babe. Besides, everything we need will already be there.”

  Her eyes had lost some of their spark but her bright smile almost made up for it. “Okay. What should I wear?”

  He shrugged. “What you have on is fine.”

  From the horrified look on her face, you’d think he’d told her to wear a paper bag. “No. These are work clothes.”

  He reached across the bar and hooked his finger in the deep V of her top. Then he pulled her forward this time and kissed the tip of her turned-up nose. The patrons loved their give and take across the bar, but this time wasn’t for their benefit. “It doesn’t matter what you wear, Piper.” If he had his way, she’d be naked before long.

  “Maybe not to you, but it does to me. How much time do I have?”

  “Not long. I thought we could just leave from here.”

  “Not in my work clothes, Ben. Not without a shower.” She hopped off the bar stool and waved to Chuck who was taking over as bartender. Piper met Ben at the end of the bar and she leaned into him, kissing him hard, the way he liked it. Her breasts pressed into his chest. His cock barely had time to appreciate the brush of her hips before she pulled away. “Pick me up in half an hour. I’ll be ready. Promise.”

  Ben watched her bounce out the door. That was Piper, up for anything. Except commitment. Would tonight get that exhibitionist streak out of her system? Or would he have to resign himself to the fact that she lived for showing off for everybody?

  That he wasn’t special at all.

  Redefining room service…

  Suite 69

  © 2011 S.L. Carpenter and Sahara Kelly

  The Zephyre Corporation’s annual convention may be designed to let colleagues kick back in the Florida sun, but Riley McGuire doesn’t plan to let anything interfere with her chance to shine for corporate management. Not even the devastatingly sexy guy playing air guitar—naked—in her hotel suite.

  Oliver Wilson expected to share a deluxe suite with what he assumed was an amiable Irish-American beer drinker, not an acid-tongued Boston beauty who can’t hold her liquor.

  Their agreement to muddle through is shot to hell by a tug of attraction that, in the convention’s decadent atmosphere, grows too strong to resist. Oliver discovers there’s more going on under Riley’s suits than good marketing ideas. And Oliver’s gentlemanly teasing gets under Riley’s skin…in a sexy way.

  Behind closed doors, lust explodes between the sheets. But is a pair of vibrating panties a temporary pleasure, or the start of something that doesn’t require batteries?

  Warning: Please check with your hotel concierge to ask if the handsome naked man playing air guitar comes with the room. There may be an extra surcharge not covered under federal business reimbursement regulations. Be sure to tip the bellboy.

  Enjoy the following excerpt for Suite 69:

  The elevator ride was a brief, nightmarish interruption in Oliver’s plans. He found himself clenching his teeth in an effort to keep his hands off Riley while the car rose to their floor. The presence of five other people made it an utter necessity, but it was the hardest thing he’d ever done. His mind was overflowing with images of what he wanted to do when he had her alone and the knowledge of what she’d slipped into his pocket.

  She was holding the key card as soon as the doors slid apart, and the two of them hurried down the passageway, only to curse as her fingers fumbled when she tried to unlock their room.

  Finally they were inside, reaching for each other even before the thud of the door locking them away had faded.

  Riley grabbed Oliver, dragging his head to hers, kissing him frantically, hungrily, thrusting her tongue into his mouth and moaning as he pressed against her face in his turn. They stumbled, moved and ended up with his back to the wall, her body a fierce lick of heat against his chest.

  “God, now.” She tugged at his clothing, managing to pull his jacket off and his shirt free of his pants.

  He helped, pulling his shirt off, then slipping the tiny straps of her dress down over her arms.

  She hissed in frustration as her arms caught, panting until she managed to push the silk down and bare her breasts. She leaned against him, the hard buds of her nipples searing his skin. “Oh, better.” She kissed him again.

  “Yeah.” His hands stroked her spine and moved downward, inside the rumpled fabric, to find her buttocks. He forced her body against his erection, moving slightly, loving the deep groan she made and the way her thighs parted for him.

  She bit his lower lip and sucked it as he pushed the rest of her dress to the floor, baring her to his gaze. Not that he could see much, since his brain was rapidly fogging up with a single focus—to get all that heat around his cock.

  He turned them, putting her back to the wall, intending to unfasten his pants. But she was way ahead of him, her hands already loosening the button at the waistband and delving inside to cup him.

  It was his turn to groan as she found him, held him—and squeezed.

  “Jesus.” He tore at his fly and kicked at his clothing as it dropped to his feet. Her tongue left his mouth and traced a path down his neck to his shoulders and his chest as he toed off his shoes. She licked his nipple, then nipped it gently, sighing with delight as she discovered his naked body. His shorts were gone, he wore nothing but his socks, and damned if he had the time or the inclination to deal with those.

  Her thong vanished with a snap as he grabbed it and pulled it away from her. He heard her gasp as his arousal slipped between her thighs and rubbed against the bare skin of her pussy. “Oliver, please…do it now. I’m gonna explode here any second…”

  “Wait, we need…”

  “In your jacket pocket.” She dug her fingers into his ass and rubbed herself over his cock, hot moisture slicking him with her juices.

  “I know. Wait…”

  Managing to retain two or three functioning brain cells, he grabbed for his jacket, dropped it twice, cursed and then discovered the foil packet. All while being wonderfully assaulted by a desperately horny naked woman wearing red high-heeled shoes. He’d seen a porno movie like this once, but never imagined he’d be in the starring role one day.

  “Hurry.” She urged him on with a teasing brush to his balls with her fingertips and a quick bite to his earlobe. Damn, this woman could multitask with a helluva lot more skill than he could. He wanted to suck those hard nipples, explore her pussy with whatever body part was available and fuck her blind.

  He was barely managing to open the condom and find his own cock, let alone sheath it. Everything else would have to wait. Except the fucking her blind bit. That was top priority.

  Ready at last, he pressed his palms against her shoulders and held her steady against the wall. She widened her stance, her breath coming quickly in little puffs against his cheek as he positioned himself. “Lift your leg just a little to the left …”

  He bent his knees slightly as she obeyed and slipped one creamy thigh up against his hip. Letting go of her shoulder, he reached down between them and put the head of his cock where it wanted to be…against the wet lips of her pussy.

  And thrust upward.

  Enjoying the Show

  © 2007 Marie Harte

  It’s “Look, but don’t touch.” Until the object of Hailey’s fantasies catches her looking and demands she touch him. Everywhere.

  Hailey Jennison is smart, funny and, unfortunately, stacked like a blonde brick house. She’s well aware the impact her looks have on the male gender, and she hates it. Socially awkward, she keeps to a safe, boring routine, meeting friends
once a week for dinner, some laughs, and entertainment.

  Entertainment comes in the form of a little harmless voyeurism, watching the living, breathing sex god across the quad parade around his apartment half-naked. Hailey watches and yearns, indulging in this weekly fantasy that almost—but not quite—satisfies her every desire.

  When Gage catches Hailey in the act of ogling him, he gives her a choice—go out with him, or he’ll call the cops. But he has no intention of calling the law down on every man’s wet dream. For he’s been watching her, as well. And he has plans to fulfill her naughty fantasies.

  Warning, this title contains the following: explicit sex, graphic language, and a man named “Mr. Tool”.

  Enjoy the following excerpt for Enjoying the Show:

  “I’m sorry, but I think you have me confused with someone else.”

  He narrowed a gorgeous, steel-gray gaze that made her womb clench and frowned. “Honey, I don’t think you understand. Apartment 306? Faith Sumner ring a bell?” Crap, he did know about Faith and where she lived. “Now we can discuss this here, with an audience.” He nodded to several people laughing as they crossed the parking lot. “Or we can go somewhere private and discuss the matter…without getting the police involved. Frankly, I’m tired of being stared at.”

  Crossing his arms, Gage looked completely menacing, and mouthwateringly real. Without the distance separating his apartment from the Friday night shows, Hailey’s normally nonexistent sexuality kicked into overdrive. Good lord, but this man was even making her mouth water.

  She eyed his irritation, figured what she knew about him after several months of observation, and knew she’d never get another chance to be this close to the object of her fascination.

  Nodding, she let him drag her the distance to his apartment, not wanting to appear eager. But as they drew closer to his place, she wondered at her sanity. He’d seen her watching, knew all about Faith and her friends. Why the hell was she going to entertain his questions? Then again, considering the alternative he gave her was to talk to the police, she had no choice but to take him up on his offer to discuss matters privately. With any luck, Sydney would spot them walking the distance to his wing, or better yet, see Hailey in his apartment and race to the rescue.

  Unfortunately, Hailey’s worries paled next to her sudden, combustible libido. God, being so close to him was like walking in a wet dream. His rock hard body enticed, demanding adulation. And not wanting to look directly into his burning gray eyes, she was more than happy to focus on his broad shoulders and sculpted delts, his corded forearms, and especially on the taut ass encased in those jeans.

  She followed him up the stairs, her gaze helplessly drawn to his powerful thighs. With some difficulty, she swallowed around a dry mouth. She still couldn’t believe she was accompanying her fantasy man back to his apartment. Sydney would be expecting her back with the booze, and instead Hailey walked behind Mr. Tool, caught in a firm grip promising retribution.

  At his door he paused, his eyes darkening with menace. Instead of appearing scary, he only looked sexier. “Wait right here. You move one step, I’m calling the cops on you and your peeping friends.”

  Frozen, she nodded and waited. As if she had a choice in the matter. She could just see her name plastered over the local news. Dull and prudish Hailey Jennison caught peeping at hard-working, blue-collar stiff. At the word “stiff” she inwardly groaned. She did not need to be focused on sex around an angry, half-dressed Adonis who didn’t seem to have a woman on the horizon.

  He jerked his door open and pulled her inside, locking the door behind her. From what she could see through dimmed lights, he had a nice, masculine place. Up close, his apartment had more charm than she’d seen through his windows. White-washed walls framed a spacious apartment with brown leather furniture. He had oak hardwood floors, dark cabinetry that looked extremely expensive and definitely hand-crafted. His small kitchen was bright and cheery, with an apple-green tile backsplash against white cabinets. No dishes cluttered the sink, and the rest of his place looked tidy, as if he’d recently cleaned.

  For a split second she wondered if he had a girlfriend they’d never seen, or worse, if he might in fact be gay. But Faith had seen him watching porn, she remembered, and unconsciously glanced toward his windows. She blinked, noting them completely covered.

  “No need to give your friends more of a show than we have to,” he said in a gritty voice.

  She whipped her head to him, studying him warily. What the hell had she been thinking? She stood alone in an apartment with a virtual stranger, one who seemed in a pretty fierce mad as he glared at her. He towered over her, his muscles clearly outlined in the soft lighting of the room. She took a cautious step back, aware he’d locked his door, and swallowed loudly.

  Seeing her fear, his scowl deepened.

  Anxiety flared. What did she really know about Gage? He worked in construction, put in a full day’s work, and didn’t screw around, or at least he hadn’t for the past three months. He apparently liked porn—she still had a bone to pick with Faith about that—and despite leaving his curtains wide open at night, had issues with being spied upon.

  He took a step closer and surprised her by sighing. “Now, Hailey, why don’t you tell me what you’ve really been doing in Faith’s apartment every Friday night for the past few months.” He walked toward her and she froze. He mumbled something under his breath, and her gaze followed him as he walked around her to his door, then leaned back against it, blocking any chance at escape. His muscled arms crossed over his massive chest, and he stared at her with an intensity she found unnerving.

  “How do you know my name?” And how did he know about Fridays at Faith’s? She stalled, trying to think of a way out of this mess. It was one thing to fantasize about doing a guy this hot, but another to actually do it. Should she apologize nicely, flirt, or maybe offer some kind of financial restitution?

  He smiled, a lazy grin that widened as he glanced from her eyes to her mouth, and lingered over her breasts. “I know a lot about you, Hailey. I know you used to live in Abberwick before you moved across town. I know you’re good friends with Faith and your three other pals, the women who hang around Friday nights watching me.”

  She flushed at the accusation in his tone. “If you didn’t want to be watched, you should have closed the curtains.” A pitiful defense, but it was all she had.

  “Tsk, tsk.” He shook his head. “Never admit to the crime. And especially not to your victim, unless you mean to make things right.”

  “Look,” she began in a shaky voice, “I’m sorry if you think I did something you object to. You’re a good-looking man. And if I happened to glance at you a time or two through Faith’s window into your brightly lit, exposed apartment, I apologize.”

  He grinned, and her heart raced like she’d run a marathon. God, why couldn’t he be an arrogant jerk with no sense of humor? Her fear faded as if it had never been there, and suddenly her sex drive shot into high gear, shocking the crap out of her.

  “Hailey, you have one hell of a fire in those hot, whiskey-brown eyes.”

  Sure, but have you ever looked into her eyes? Frigid bitch, resounded in her thoughts, and she wondered how Gage saw her as someone so different from the woman her coworkers saw on a daily basis.

  “I think you’ve made a mistake, Mr., ah…” she paused, waiting for him to fill in the blank. When he continued to grin, his hungry gaze wandering over her body, she froze him with the look she regularly gave Eddie at work.

  Unlike Eddie, however, Gage didn’t frown or glare back in disgust. His mouth quirked at the corner, and to her bemusement, she had an almost irresistible urge to kiss him there.

  “My name’s Gage. And if you want to know my last name, you have to take me to dinner.”

  “Take you to dinner?” she repeated blankly.

  “Yeah, if you want to stay out of jail for being a Peeping Tom, and if you want to know exactly who you’ve been spying on.”


  “I told you, I wasn’t spying—”

  “Save it.” He held up a callused hand. “Dinner or jail? Your choice, sweetheart.”

  Sweetheart? The annoyance she should have been feeling at the inappropriate pet name was smothered under another wave of lust. On his lips, the endearment sounded like a come-on. One she was all-too-willing to hear all over again.

  What the hell am I doing? He’s locked me in his apartment, and now he’s blackmailing me into dinner? That or jail? Is this how he gets all his girlfriends? A glance over his superbly conditioned body made her rethink the notion. And then, to her astonishment, she found herself nodding hesitantly while her mind shrieked at her to say no.

  Risk It

  Natasha Moore

  Time to put out…or get out.

  Paolo’s Playhouse, Book 2

  On the outside, Amy has the American dream. Two busy kids, a job she loves, a big house thanks to her husband’s climb up the corporate ladder. What she hasn’t had in a long time…is sex. Sure, she’s too exhausted at night to think about it, but maybe Will’s long hours at work aren’t the real reason he rarely touches her anymore.

  Feeling her marriage teetering on the edge, she rents the voyeur room at Paolo’s Playhouse. Maybe bringing back the memory of the one wicked thing they used to do together will relight the sparks.

  Will loves his wife, but she’s never been one to take chances—except for the time before kids, when they’d camp out in a club’s back booth, getting all worked up watching the dirty dancers. Their careers have seriously cut into their “us” time, and if she’s booked them a sexual playroom, it sounds like she’s serious about solving the problem.

  When Will shows up way, way late, Amy wonders why she bothered, and if her plan to relight the flame has only made it painfully clear that it’s too late to try.

  Warning: Sparks flying, angry words flying, clothes flying, and a loving couple trying to find their way back to each other.