Seduction’s Canvas (Crimson Romance)

by Jackson, K. M.

  He smiled down at her, finally visibly loosening as he reached for the hem of his tee and pulled it over his head to reveal those abs she loved so much. She felt herself compulsively swallow as he reached for the button of his jeans.

  “Wait, I’ll do that.” She noticed it was his turn to swallow as he moved back to give her room as she pushed up and leaned forward to undo his jeans. As the zipper came down and she slipped her hands on both sides of his jeans to slowly pull them down, she took in his deliciously clean musky male scent, inhaling the pure power of him. Her eyes widened, once again amazed at the strength and the beauty of his magnificent length. Sam bit her bottom lip, suddenly desirous to taste him fully and completely. She looked up at him as if to ask for permission and was met with glistening eyes of yearning. She closed her own and inhaled once again, leaning her forehead against his taut abdomen as his hand gently came up to cradle her head. This was too much. This felt too deep. She blinked against the tears that were forming in the back of her eyes and shifted, leaning forward to taste. The first taste of his arousal was tangible proof that he was real and this was not all just a dream.

  And with that she was lost, taking him fully and deeply. Circling him with long strokes of her tongue, going back down as far as her throat would allow then coming back up only when she needed air. She was a woman who could not be stopped and all she wanted at that moment was to have him, to possess him the way he had possessed her, for this real moment to never end, and for him to be hers.

  “Sweetheart, you have to stop,” Mark ground out from somewhere above. He stilled her with his hand. “Baby, please. I’m going to lose it.”

  “It’s ok,” she breathed out.

  “No, it’s not ok.” He picked her up and leaned her back. “Don’t move.”

  She watched through glazed eyes as he disappeared and came back, condom in hand. Impatiently, he ripped open the packet and sheathed himself. He looked down at her and grinned. “I don’t know how in the hell I got so lucky.”

  At that, Samara felt her first real smile of the night bloom from deep in her belly as Mark leaned in and kissed her. He started at her mouth and trailed kisses to her breasts, nibbling and sucking at them as if they were the sweetest delicacies he’d ever had in his life. He then took his hand brought it between her thighs, coaxing them apart with gentle caresses and long circular strokes. “So damned lucky,” he moaned as she arched into him and let the wave of pleasure take her away.

  It was then that he brought his thumb up and increased his pace and the pressure on her most intimate spot, causing her to cry out in incoherent murmurs.

  Mark stilled for a moment and shifted above her, bringing one leg up and swiftly but surely, plunging inside her and at the same time still stroking that hard nub of pleasure. Sam broke around him, her inner walls vibrating violently as he arched over like a tiger, leaning down to lick her already tender breasts. She broke some more, clinging to his hard back with one hand and clawing at the cool leather with the other. It was too much, but still Mark kept on. Stroking and plunging, licking and caressing. He was everywhere and everything all at once.

  “I can’t hold on, love,” Mark ground out.

  At least that’s what Samara thought she heard.

  “Don’t hold on,” she said.

  “I can’t.”

  “Just let go.”

  “Never.”

  “You have to.” Samara pulled him to her and looked in his eyes as she kissed him, clamping down on his erection once more as he came with her during her final rush of ecstasy.

  “You have to,” she whispered once more.

  Chapter 17

  The quiet click of the door closing was Mark’s signal to open his eyes. He had known the moment that Samara had shifted to get up once they were through making love that she thought he was fast asleep. As if he could sleep with her words about letting go churning in his head. Once again she’d rocked his world and then left him with a clear message that she was not one to be tied down. Mark stretched, letting out a groan as he clenched empty fists, wanting desperately to have them full of her. More than anything, he wanted to march across the hall and pull her back to him. By his side, in his bed, in his arms forever.

  Forever. Yeah right. Her forever was an hour, maybe an hour and a half, or two tops. Mark cursed to himself as he got up to make his way to the bathroom. Forever? No fucking way. It clearly was not in her makeup and the quicker he got his head around it the happier he’d be. He looked out the tiny slit of a window at the still dark New York sky as he relieved himself. Shit, she couldn’t even stay with him until the sun came up. Mark shook his head, angry at his own frustration over the whole situation. It was fine, he told himself. He didn’t need Samara Leighton any more than she needed him. A good time and a means to an end.

  Mark turned to the shower and flipped the water to full blast cold. Forget forever and take the hour. It was a perfectly fine motto. Now he’d just keep telling it to himself, and maybe with enough practice he’d finally convince himself that they were true and happy words to live by.

  • • •

  Samara got out of her steaming shower and ran a hand over the thick condensation in the mirror. The deep set hollowed eyes looking back at her had her nearly jumping out of her skin. She licked her lips and leaned forward, taking in their heavily lidded appearance, her flushed rosy cheeks, her full, well kissed lips all mixed with the scarily haunting look of sadness. She didn’t know what to make of it.

  She felt raw and exposed and just too out there. Strangely enough, part of her wanted to pull out all her makeup and despite the fact that it was not even a new day, pile it on and cover up. Paint on her best Leighton war face to face the world, ready and armed. But then she looked out toward the hall and yet another part wanted to go across the hall, naked and the exposed mess that she was, and fall into that strong man’s arms and see if he would catch her.

  But how could he? Why should he? She was nothing more than a silly, entitled, rich socialite spoiled bitch, living off Daddy’s money, whose infamous claim to fame was finding herself in a sex scandal years ago that untimely led to her brother’s death.

  Samara closed her eyes and choked back a sob. No. No more. She’d vowed never again. Those tears for Charles were over.

  But when she opened her eyes there she was. That girl. Flushed cheeks, puffy lips, tears streaming. She turned away and grabbed her robe, thinking of Mark and how he looked at her at times with such open wonder. What would he say if he knew the full truth? That she was nothing more than poison. Would he have her then? Catch her then? Or be like all the others and let her fall? Take photos and laugh when she was on the ground.

  Sam walked out of the bathroom and went to change, hastily pulling her hair into a ponytail after pulling on some loose workout pants and a tank. No, safety was the only way. She had to protect herself and her heart this time. No matter how much it hurt. Even if it meant she’d have to find another space or, she thought as a new idea started to form, give up her art entirely.

  Maybe after her show it was time to pack it in. Who knew? Her father had a point. She had the business training and her transient life couldn’t go on as it had been forever. Sam slipped on her sneakers and headed to her narrow balcony and up to the roof. The sun was just starting to consider rising, bringing the slightest soft rose hue over the lower Manhattan skyline. Sam sucked in a deep breath as she considered the impact that her family, her father in particular, had on the footprint of the city. He was a mogul for good or for bad and his influence could be seen and felt far and wide. But then she thought of Charles again and felt a pain deep in the lower part of her chest as it twisted low. All the good he could have done and wanted to do with the family business. He would have been a fantastic foil for her father. Housing for the poor and the ones stuck in the margins. It was his dream.

  She felt the
tears threaten again and some even dare fall. Swiping them away she welcomed the breeze that came blowing up from the East River. “Oh God, I’m so sorry,” she wrenched out.

  “What could you ever be sorry for?”

  Sam swung around to meet Thorn’s warm gaze.

  She blinked. “What are you doing up here?”

  “Just watching the sunrise, Miss Leighton.”

  She stilled. He was about ten yards from her, leaning casually on a storage container of some sort under the old water tower. On instinct her mask fell into place and her old walls went up, despite the instant desire that coursed through her body.

  “Really, Mr. Thorn. Even now, are we still at the ‘Miss Leighton’ stage?”

  Mark raised that brow. “It would seem we are. I don’t see you getting past it.”

  She stared at him, her feelings churning around in a fantastic jumble that she didn’t know how to handle. How to control. “No, you’re right. I don’t see that I am.”

  He stepped forward, slow and languid, coming to stand before her. His body big and broad and full and powerful. Completely at ease and his nearness completely putting her out of ease.

  “It’s fine. I’m willing to be anyone you want me to be. By the way, good morning.” He licked his bottom lip and wrapped a large hand around her, cupping her behind.

  Sam looked up at him, eyes going wide, mouth open.

  Mark took that moment to swoop down and take her mouth in his, his full lips melding with hers. His expert tongue intertwining in a delicious play that had a warm fullness flooding her being and a moan escaping her throat.

  Sam leaned in to him and put a hand between them to feel his hardness through his loose track pants. He was so thick and ready and real that it had her moaning all over again, stroking up and down against his full length. Her inner caged animal was suddenly clawing at her chest walls.

  Mark pulled back and looked around. “Maybe we should go inside?”

  “No,” she said, fighting against the huskiness in her voice and the heaviness in her breast. “I want you out here. Where I can see you with the sun rising, the city around us.”

  Mark then reached down, gently lifting and depositing her bottom on the storage container, momentarily taking the breath from Samara and bringing it back as his mouth came down on hers again when she opened up in a wide O.

  His large hands stroked her sides as he leaned her back under the canopy of the water tower and in a fluid motion lifted her shirt and unhooked her bra from the front, freeing her breasts to the morning breeze. He let out a low groan and brought his tongue over her nipples in wide circles, finally zeroing in on her tight buds, tugging and sucking in long, slow strokes as Samara’s writhed and moaned, his head in her hands as she greedily begged for more. Mark took that challenge and slipped his hands into her loose workout pants, past her panties, fingers mingling with her tight curls. “Open for me, love.”

  On a sigh, Samara spread her legs slightly, giving him passage as Mark’s fingers went to work, sending vibrations of ecstasy radiating throughout every pore of her body. As she looked to the east and saw the sun rise, she finally let his name go on a final wave of pleasure. “Yes, Mark, yes!”

  “See, that wasn’t so hard.” The rich timbre mixed with self-assured smugness had her both wanting to laugh with joy and smack him all at once.

  “Okay, you’re asking for it,” Samara said, adjusting her top and sitting up. She looked around, blinking. “I can’t believe we did that.”

  Mark grinned that wicked grin. “I can.”

  Sam frowned, looking first at him and then down at his pants and his still very evident erection. “It would seem we are not quite done yet, Mr. — ”

  But Mark cut her off with a raised brow and a look. “Ok, neighbor, after the way you just came screaming my name, all of lower Manhattan pretty much calls me Mark now. I think you can too.”

  Sam laughed. “Fine. Mark then, but I reserve the right to Mr. Thorn whenever I like.”

  Mark nodded seriously then kissed her. “Deal. As long I reserve the right to Miss Leighton whenever I want.”

  She stared at him for a moment, wondering when he would use it, then nodded. “Deal. Now,” she looked down once again, “about your little problem. I already told you I always pay my debts.”

  Mark grinned. “Fine. But only if after this debt is paid, there’s a full breakfast on the other side of it. Being your neighbor, a guy’s got to keep his strength up.”

  • • •

  Breakfast was fantastic. Sam was feeling full, but also light and free for the first time in a very long time. For once she’d decided to let go and just fall.

  She was holding tight to Mark, the vibration of the motorcycle coursing through her body as they made their way back down from a diner along the West Side highway. Her stomach did a little flip as they hit a small pothole, but Mark maneuvered it beautifully as a reassuring hand came over her own before putting both his hands back on the handlebars and he focused on the road again. Sam let out the breath she was holding and gave herself credit for not having a full on panic attack. She wasn’t nearly over her fear of bikes and knew she probably never would be, but with Mark something was somehow different. It was as if despite her fear she was in a way thriving in it and growing. She felt herself blossoming for the first time in a long time. She didn’t want to say it or maybe she didn’t have the words to explain it or maybe she was just too scared to think it and then miss it when it was gone. But for the moment she felt good.

  Sam leaned fully into Mark’s strong back and took in all his self-assured strength. This morning had been amazing. After their time on the roof he’d taken her back to her apartment and proceeded to shower her off from where he had dirtied her on the roof, taking special care with her hair. From there he followed her to her bedroom where somehow they only seemed to make it as far as the floor by the bed when she leaned over to get a condom from her bedside table. Sam felt herself blush as she thought of it and clinched her thighs tighter around Mark as he made a left onto their street.

  She felt him chuckle as they came to a stop sign. “What?”

  “Maybe I know what you’re thinking?” he playfully mumbled from under his helmet.

  Sam swatted his thigh. “You are way too cocky for your own good, Mr. Thorn.”

  “You would know that better than anyone, Miss Leighton,” he replied with a smile in his voice as he gave the engine a hard rev and they took off down the block, Sam not able to hide her grin.

  But her smile faded much too quickly as they pulled up in front of their building and she saw her parents’ car parked in front. She let out a sigh as she felt her pulse begin to race and sweat begin to form under her arms.

  “You want me to take you through the garage?” Mark asked over his shoulder.

  But there was no need, as her father was already exiting her building and had zeroed in on the two of them pulling up. His face was now a hardened mask of clay: full lips thinned with displeasure, eyes narrowed, nostrils flared.

  Mark stopped the bike behind the limo and helped Samara off, taking her helmet and stowing it with his. “I see he looks thrilled.”

  Samara peeked over his shoulder just in time to see her mother exiting the building and talking animatedly with the doorman about something. She froze then and narrowed her eyes also when she saw Samara with Mark.

  “It’s fine,” Sam said, trying hard to bring lightness to her voice as she worked on putting the Leighton mask in place. Shit, what were they doing here? She wracked her brain, wondering what could have brought them here today and prayed to God they hadn’t used some master key to invade her privacy and go into her apartment because she hadn’t quite cleaned up before she and Mark headed out after breakfast.

  She let out a long breath. “Guess you’d might as well meet y
our landlords,” she joked, smiling up at Mark, but felt him bristle and look over his shoulder at her frowning parents.

  “You know what? They don’t look all that happy to see me. Maybe another time would be better.”

  Sam frowned and gave him a stare. This was the first time she’d actually seen him anywhere near nervous. She gave him a nudge. “Oh come on, Mr. Thorn. Trust me; I’m by far the scariest Leighton of the bunch.”

  • • •

  Mark looked down at Sam. Big brown pools, looking up at him with a playful challenge. Shit, and this had been such a good morning. The very best he’d ever had. More than he’d ever dreamed of, and now … hell, now it could all blow up in his face. Either Mr. or Mrs. Leighton could take one look at him, recognize his last name, and remember him as the kid from years ago whose mother used to clean their office toilets and that would be that. He could be out on his ear, because let’s face it, they owned Manhattan, but worse than that they could expose him to Sam make him look like some stalker who’d been pining for her like a loser for all these years.

  “Well?” she said, her voice a clear bell, ringing him out of his thoughts. “Are you coming or are you turning tail and running away?”

  He looked down at her and gave her a frown. “Since when have you seen me ever run away from anything?”

  Chapter 18

  “So now you’re cavorting with filthy bikers?” The way Howard Leighton spit out the words would have had Sam rolling her eyes or flat out laughing at anyone else. But in this setting she didn’t quite know what to do. Shit. She was a grown woman and she didn’t know what to do. This was a problem.

  “Really, Howard, you sound positively ancient. I’m sure Samara is doing no such thing, and if you don’t mind, please lower your voice,” Liv said from by his side as she noticed a passersby making his way on the sidewalk.