A Total-E-Bound Publication
www.total-e-bound.com
Kiss Me…If You Dare
ISBN #978-0-85715-142-1
©Copyright Aurora Rose Lynn 2010
Cover Art by April Martinez ©Copyright May 2010
Edited by Michele Paulin
Total-E-Bound Publishing
This is a work of fiction. All characters, places and events are from the author’s imagination and should not be confused with fact. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, events or places is purely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any material form, whether by printing, photocopying, scanning or otherwise without the written permission of the publisher, Total-E-Bound Publishing.
Applications should be addressed in the first instance, in writing, to Total-E-Bound Publishing. Unauthorised or restricted acts in relation to this publication may result in civil proceedings and/or criminal prosecution.
The author and illustrator have asserted their respective rights under the Copyright Designs and Patents Acts 1988 (as amended) to be identified as the author of this book and illustrator of the artwork.
Published in 2010 by Total-E-Bound Publishing, Think Tank, Ruston Way, Lincoln, LN6 7FL, United Kingdom
.
Warning: This book contains sexually explicit content which is only suitable for mature readers. This story has been rated Total-e-burning.
Sex in Session
KISS ME…IF YOU DARE
Aurora Rose Lynn
Dedication
To my favourite bloggers.
Trademarks Acknowledgement
The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:
Energizer Bunny: Eveready Battery Company, Inc.
Emily Post: Post, Elizabeth L., Individual
Trademark: company
Chapter One
Friday night and not a date in sight.
Celeste Heplewich cast aside the dismal thought, stepped out of her fluffy pink slippers and climbed under the bed covers. Friday nights were always good nights to read if she could ignore the sounds of partying and laughter coming from next door. The walls between her apartment and the neighbour’s were thin, and she heard everything, not only on Fridays, but every other night, too. She tried to focus on her text, a study on why criminals became criminals, although, she believed sceptically, there couldn’t be any consensus.
“Oh drat,” she muttered, remembering she’d left her hot cocoa on the kitchen counter. She threw off the covers, slipped back into her slippers and padded out of the bedroom and into the darkened kitchen. The sounds of partying next door were louder here and the incessant pound of heavy metal music made her roll her eyes. It was past ten-thirty, she noted, glancing at the clock on the microwave.
The phone in its cradle rang. Without thinking, Celeste picked up the receiver.
“Is there a party next door?” her best friend asked with a hint of excitement. Jasmine Arquette didn’t consider herself beautiful, although Celeste thought so. Plus her friend of two years was vivacious and funny and every guy in Pine Woods wanted to date her.
“I know what you’re going to say,” Celeste replied. “Why don’t I go and join them?”
“It’d be fun. You’d get out and meet new people. Our jobs don’t exactly allow us to meet upstanding young gentlemen.” As a court reporter, Celeste didn’t see more than cocky criminals.
“Next door isn’t much better.”
Jasmine worked in the criminal division of the huge courthouse that served both Pine Woods and the outlying area—predominantly farm country—surrounding it. Several glasses shattered on the other side of the wall, and there was the sound of raucous laughter.
“I wouldn’t exactly say they’re upstanding young men, either,” Celeste continued. They were probably more the free spirit types who rode loud motorcycles and cursed heavily.
“Well, you could always move,” Jasmine suggested. “In with me.”
Celeste was too polite to say that they both had men problems, and moving in with her friend would probably increase them. “I’ll think about it, but what’s the saying? Two’s company and three’s a crowd.”
Jasmine burst out laughing. “Who are you bringing with you?” She gasped audibly. “Don’t tell me you lost those fuzzy pink slippers and that housecoat?”
“The third is my libido, and no, I haven’t tossed out my slippers or my housecoat,” Celeste replied resignedly. Everyone, from her mother to Marly, her sister, teased her that she had rejuvenated her clothes from the late 1950s. What would they say about the curler at the top of her bangs?
“That’s a shame. You should try out some lingerie from The House of Sexy You. They’re fabulous works of sheer imagination.”
“I was in there one day.” On Wednesday, after she’d met Taylor Burnes at the coffee shop. He’d made her so hot and bothered as she watched him eat his ham and cheese on rye, that afterward, she’d challenged herself to at least have a peek at Sexy You. She hadn’t bought lingerie but instead picked up a tiny vibrator she could set at the end of her middle finger to give herself one orgasm after another. After seeing Taylor, she figured she’d need them.
“You were?” Jasmine asked in surprise. “You’re just jiving me, aren’t you?”
“I’m not. They had some very pretty things.” Along with hot books and both instructional and arousing DVDs. None of that was for her, and she’d felt out of place. Men didn’t date her often.
Jasmine harrumphed. “I’m wearing their latest. A fabulous teddy made out of sheer silk in an ice blue.”
Which would match her blonde hair with the brown streaks and her pretty heart-shaped face. Celeste sighed.
“How are your studies coming?” Jasmine asked.
Glad to change the subject, Celeste replied happily, “I’m doing well. I’m just about finished reading this text, and after I finish the next one, I’ll be able to ace the Challenge exam.” Many universities offered an examination where a student could pass a lengthy and extensive test pertaining to their area of interest, which was criminal forensics for Celeste. If the student passed with a high grade, then she didn’t have to complete the coursework.
“You’re very determined, aren’t you?” Jasmine sighed heavily into the phone. “I wish I were as motivated as you.”
Celeste grimaced but kept her mouth shut.
“When’s the last time you had sex anyway?”
The question, out of nowhere, startled Celeste. “I don’t need men in my life right now.”
“Why not? They’re good for boinking, if nothing else.” The hurt came through in Jasmine’s voice although Celeste was certain she was making a brave effort to hide it.
“I don’t boink men,” she retorted. “I date them.”
“And then you boink them.” Jasmine laughed aloud, her uneasiness abruptly forgotten.
Celeste smiled. She had to hand it to her friend. Jasmine always found humour in every occasion, no matter how serious it was.
“Talking about boinking, how are the judge and your mom getting along?”
Celeste’s face flamed. She’d never live down that her mother and Judge Hanks had indulged in chocolate and whipped cream during sex. She suppressed a sigh. Her mom had called her after the episode, and although she hadn’t come right out and said with whom, she sure delighted in the chocolate and whipped cream part. The older her mom got, the more weird she seemed to get too. “They’re doing great,” she replied through gritted teeth.
“Wow. That’s terrific. That must be a first, a judge and a bailiff.” She paused. “Maybe that’s why we don’t g
et laid more often.”
Holding her breath, Celeste waited.
Jasmine used up her two-second pause as she headed for the punch line. “Because we’re like old shoes. Much too reliable and predictable.”
“But I like it that way,” Celeste protested. She got up in the morning, went to work as a court reporter, came home, read her texts and went to bed. There was nothing wrong with that even on Friday night without a date in sight. Most of the time, she liked it that way. Tonight was an exception. Since she’d met a complete stranger, who’d revealed his name to be Taylor Burnes at the Duck N Diner last Tuesday, she hadn’t been able to forget him. He was a hunky blond-haired, blue eyed, power plant on legs, she hadn’t been able to get him, and the sexy things she fantasised he could do to her, out of her mind.
“Sure you do.”
Celeste heard a doorbell ring over the phone. “You’ve got company.”
Obviously, Jasmine had no trouble luring men to her door.
“Gotta go, love. See you Monday.” The line went dead, leaving Celeste alone in her apartment with her dismal thoughts. Usually her friend’s calls cheered her, but this evening, they’d left her hungry for a man.
Friday night and not a date in sight, she thought again.
Celeste strolled over to her computer, logged on and drew up her blog. What was the use of a diary when she could blog to her heart’s content? No one would know who she was since she hid her true identity, and it served to get some of her feelings aired. The blog statistics were going through the roof. Today alone, fifteen hundred people had viewed her blog ‘Kiss Me…If You Dare’ and she hadn’t posted since Wednesday night.
She read over that portion of her blog.
I met a guy in the coffee shop three days ago. The seats were all taken at the other tables, so he asked if he could sit down at mine. What the heck? I just about creamed my panties. He was one good-looking hunk. I normally wouldn’t sit with a guy like that. He’s a babe magnet for sure with tousled blond hair, blue eyes every female wants to sink into, and a package that is well, um, very big. Can you imagine his long, luscious cock sliding into you and giving you the time of your life…before he hightails it away from commitment?
I have to tell you, though, he wouldn’t even consider a girl like me. I’m too vanilla for his tastes. He probably enjoys women who are higher class, who model or have been prom queen. You know, the women who are pretty with flawless skin, not an inch of fat on their slender bodies and are graceful swans. I’m not one of those. I have brown hair that won’t hold a style no matter what I do, big boobs like my mother and I’m not slender. I’d probably be described as the ‘girl next door’ but I’m not a man’s wet dream come true.
That’s enough of me. This guy I met in the coffee shop is a real hunk, but he’s not my type, and frankly, as I said, I’m not his type. But maybe he wants something a little different from the usual pretty girl hanging on his arm, perhaps a one-night stand with some wild, hot sex. I could slip out of my panties, you know the crotchless kind, then swing them on my index finger as an invitation, but would he accept it?
Celeste could swing her panties all she wanted. Taylor Burnes would just laugh and walk away, but wasn’t it nice to indulge the imagination a little?
Still, he’d written his full name and his phone number on a napkin and when he’d handed it to her, said in a deep, deep voice that had made her body tingle everywhere, “If you ever want a night out on the town, just call.”
Then he’d given her an unmistakable wink, gotten up from the table and walked away.
Had it been pity or interest? She had no idea.
What a nice, nice ass and lean thighs. Can you imagine him naked and showing off just for you? His back is turned to you. He lifts his muscled arms above his head as if he is a bodybuilder—isn’t he though with all those sculpted muscles? When he turns around, his cock bobs towards you. He walks forward with a purposeful, hungry stride. You see it in his blue eyes. You’re the prey. Wait until he gets his teeth onto your aroused body. You’ll swoon, your hand over your heart, then he will simply vanish. You know why? Because he never existed, and if he did, then it was only as long as you could hold him in your vivid imagination.
But there’s something I forgot to tell you. Mr. Blue Eyes is too arrogant for my taste. I know that no matter how much I want him, in the end, he’ll irritate me with his blasé self-assurance. He has a bad boy mentality that will get you into trouble, so watch out girl!
Celeste sighed. She was getting herself wound up, as she always did, and the only outlet for relief was masturbation with the little toy she’d bought. When she hungered for a man, she’d strap the tiny vibrator onto her middle finger and do herself, not once but several times, before she found some relief.
Friday night and not a date in sight.
Disheartened that several of her friends, and even her mother who had given up on men and sex, had somewhere to go on Friday nights, Celeste got to her feet and headed towards her cold cocoa, planning to reheat it in the microwave. Someone rapped on the outer door to her apartment, and she stumbled on the kitchen mat in front of the sink, catching herself just in time.
Who would it be at this late hour? If her mother or Marly wanted to talk to her, they’d call. They never made a late night appearance. They talked but they weren’t close since Celeste’s parents had divorced. And her friends knew she was off limits unless it was an emergency.
At the door, whoever it was knocked loudly, more impatiently this time, startling her. She jumped up then unlocked the door and threw it open. Her mouth gaped open in astonishment.
Taylor Burnes brushed past her, seized her wrist, pulled her from the entrance and slammed the door shut with such force the wall shook.
“You smell nice,” he growled, “but you need to do something about your frumpy clothes.”
His hand around her wrist bone hurt, and she sensed the raw power emanating from him. Sparks flew between them, and his eyes seared through her before he dropped her arm so swiftly it was as if the contact had burned him. He turned his back on her, and for a fleeting second, she imagined him on top of her, his weight firmly on her body. However, his comment about her ‘frumpy’ clothes swept aside thoughts about lust for the uber-attractive man.
She bristled. “You can’t just walk in here!” In the late evening and throw out disparaging statements about a woman’s clothing, she silently added.
He spun around nonchalantly as if he strode into other people’s dwellings every day. “I just did, didn’t I?” His gaze pierced through her already slim defences.
In the coffee shop, he’d been casually dressed, but any clothes he wore were only window dressing. Tonight, he wore polished black boots, a felt cowboy hat, and a denim jacket with worn jeans that moulded his legs and thighs. He would have looked just as good if he’d worn a three-piece suit. Or nothing at all.
Celeste gulped. Temptation was only an arm’s reach away. How did one fight a panther in a battle that’s already been won? By the panther?
His presence simply threw her off balance. Not only was she tongue-tied, but she’d lost her nerve. She could only gape at him and pray he didn’t see the computer monitor behind the couch and read how much he aroused her.
“Just go back to whatever you were doing,” he said, taking two huge strides to the couch and seating himself on the sagging cushion. He gazed about him as if he owned the place.
Anger began to roil in the pit of Celeste’s stomach. Over the years, as she’d realised her parents weren’t getting back together and they were as good as divorced, she’d tried to make the best of life, often choosing to swallow her anger rather than let out her emotions.
“What would that be?” she asked, crossing her arms over her chest in what she hoped was a threatening gesture.
His lips curved in a quirky grin. “What do women who aren’t out on Friday nights do?” Taylor shrugged as if he wasn’t too interested in her reply.
She wa
s steaming mad now. “My clothes and my life on Friday nights are none of your business. Now get out.” If only she’d known how rude and arrogant he was, she wouldn’t have fantasised about him!
“I need a place to crash for a couple of days.” His gaze was unblinking and unnerving.
Celeste fumed. She wondered if she could get to the phone and call the cops before he stopped her. Chances were she wouldn’t. She was on her own.
“I don’t even know you!” she flashed back. Apparently, he had no regard for other people’s privacy.
“You do now,” he drawled, eyeing her from head to toe and back again.
She immediately felt as if she were lacking, whether it was brains or beauty, she didn’t have a clue. “For goodness sake,” she blurted, “I’m a court reporter. I hear about your type day in and day out. Get out or I’ll call the police.” Maybe if he knew she had ties to the judicial system, he’d hightail it out of here.
His brow arched up, and heat curled into the pit of her stomach. His blue eyes seemed to pierce right through her slim defences. “Don’t bother.”
Celeste made her way to the phone, but Taylor’s words stopped her in her tracks. The room suddenly smelled of heady aftershave and virile man.
“The cops won’t listen. They never do. You want to know why?”
I can hardly wait. She didn’t turn around. Chances were what he would say next would put an end to her fighting him.
He laughed grimly. “Because I’m the police chief’s son.”
Taylor didn’t like asking for anyone’s help, but in this case, he’d had no choice for two reasons. First and foremost, he had to find out what Celeste’s attraction for him was. In the Duck N Diner, he’d responded to her over every other female during the crowded lunch hour at the coffee shop. Luckily for him, after he’d gotten his sandwich, the seat facing her had been unoccupied. If it hadn’t been, he’d have shunted aside the patron. There was no way he’d eat alone without pretty company. After that, he hadn’t been able to return to his painting thinking about her luscious eyes and the curvaceous body she hid under her prudish, black clothes.
Kiss Me...If You Dare Page 1
