Hot in the City 2: Sin City (4 page)

Of course, he obeyed, sinking his tongue into her warm, salty moisture, savoring the taste and smell of her while his co-workers watched.

“Harder!” she demanded. “You need to work harder on your writing and harder on my clit.”

So he went at her like a man who hadn’t eaten in a week, licking and lapping and sucking, burying his face in that wet, pink paradise until her juice was all over his face.

“Harder, you bad boy! Lick it!”

She said it over and over, demanding he obey, and he delivered, working his tongue and lips on her cunt like never before.

At his desk, he stroked his cock in rhythm with his imaginary licks, closing his eyes as the blood gathered hotter and hotter in his groin, sinking deeper into his fantasy. This wasn’t his normal sort of sexual daydream—he was usually more into dominance than submission—but something about Diana gave him an anything goes sort of feeling, so when the thought had come to mind, he’d just gone with it.

Now she knelt in front of him, her face down by his stiff rod. “You’ve learned to work hard, you naughty boy, but now you’re going to learn to take what you’re given and like it.”

“Okay,” he said.

Somewhere in the fantasy, his pants had dropped, so she reached around and slapped his bare ass with the flat of her hand, hard. “Did I tell you to speak?”

He almost said no, but then just shook his head.

“You will speak when I tell you to speak and only then. Now, tell me you want me to suck your cock, bad boy.”

He looked down into those lovely hazel green eyes,
intense and punishing and hot. “I want you to suck my cock.”

“I’m going to suck you ‘til you come,” she said. “You might want me to stop, you might be tempted to beg me, because it’s so fantastic you can’t stand it, or because you don’t want to come yet, but if you say a single word, I’ll stop for good, understand? So be a good boy and be very quiet, except for one last thing. Tell me you want to come in my mouth.”

Mmm, yeah. “I want to come in your mouth.”

As his schoolteacher-type dominatrix lowered her lips over his shaft, taking him all the way to her throat, he stroked himself harder. He prayed he was still alone, but he wasn’t about to open his eyes and find out—it would break the fantasy and he was in too deep to let that happen. In his mind, his hand was Diana’s wet mouth, sliding up and down his hard cock, sucking him in, sucking, sucking, all the while looking up at him with her forceful dom eyes behind those austere yet sexy glasses.

Before he quite expected it, he was biting his lip to stifle his moan, and his come went shooting into the tissues he’d placed there to catch it, his body jolting with hard twitches of pleasure.

“Damn,” he whispered, not quite able to believe he’d just jerked off in a conference room where anyone could have caught him.

He opened his eyes and was—thank God—alone. He had no way to know, of course, if anyone might have happened into the room, then exited when they’d seen what he was doing, but no point in worrying about it.

The only thing he was really worried about at the moment was his fantasy girl’s reply to his e-mail. He clicked the button to check, and sure enough, a message from her waited in his inbox. Blood ran hot through his veins as he clicked to open it.

Am wondering if I’ll be able to resist all the sin in Sin City. Will call you tomorrow afternoon and we’ll find out. D

Jackpot, he thought, pulling back the arm of an imaginary slot machine. If it was up to Marc, Diana was going to sink so deep into sin here that she wouldn’t ever want to crawl out.

Chapter Two

Diana’s room at The Venetian bordered on luxurious. She hadn’t expected the company to put her up at one of the expensive hotels on the strip, but she certainly thought it would make her visit to Vegas seem…more like a visit to Vegas. Already, the lush atmosphere was beginning to intoxicate her a little.

Her suite featured a king-size bed with elegant fabric draped on the wall above the headboard to form a faux canopy, and a sunken living room area divided from the bed space with a wrought iron half-rail. The pale walls contrasted against the rich shades of burgundies and reds in the fabrics.

After unpacking her suitcase and ordering a late lunch from room service, she picked up the phone and dialed Adrianna, Inc.’s corporate line.

“Adrianna, Inc., where all your lingerie dreams come true,” answered the receptionist in her usual perky tone.

“Hi Holly, it’s Diana. Can you put me through to Marc?”

“Sure thing. Hey, are you here?”

Diana laughed. “Yep, I’m hanging out in my lovely room at the Venetian.”

“Plush, I bet.”

“Very. I’m surprised we provide such accommodations for ourselves,” she said on a light giggle.

“Well, you know Adrianna. She likes only the best.”

Even though Diana didn’t actually
know
Adrianna, she supposed she
did
know that much about her.

A moment later, Marc picked up the phone. Knowing he was only a few miles away made him sound all the sexier. Diana’s pussy actually quivered when he said, “I’m glad you’re here.”

They discussed the usual—her flight, her room—until finally she said, “So, are we on for tonight?”

“Absolutely, sweetheart, and I’ve got quite an evening planned for us.”

“Oh?”

“I’ll be picking you up at your hotel in a stretch limo, then we have tickets to a show.”

Diana’s jaw dropped. “A limo?”

On the other end of the line, Marc chuckled. “It just so happens a friend of mine had already rented the limo and bought show tickets, but a work conflict came up and he had to cancel the hot date he had planned. He offered it all to me, so now
his
hot date is
our
hot date. Sound good?”

It had been so long since Diana had been on anything remotely resembling a hot date that it sounded positively yummy, but she restrained herself and simply said, “Sounds great.”

After they hung up, she took a nap to help acclimate her to the time change, watched a little TV, then took a shower since it was almost time for Marc to pick her up. To her surprise, she actually felt a little nervous, an emotion she wasn’t used to. She figured it had to do with her lingering uncertainty over what would take place between them while she was here.

She’d meant what she’d said in her e-mail message yesterday—she truly wondered if she’d be able to resist him, and sin. She had to try, though. She had to try to follow through, purge the bad girl once and for all, show herself that the good girl could win. In fact, if she succeeded in resisting both Marc and Sin City’s decadent charms, she could go home to Baltimore knowing for sure she could settle down and be a good little wife to Bradley; she could give her parents the grandchildren they’d always wanted and be the daughter they’d always wished she could be.

But just in case the good girl
didn’t
win, she’d made an awkward phone call to Bradley last night—telling him she wanted to take a break from their relationship. He’d sounded just as unhappy about it as she’d expected, but she’d had to do it. She did a lot of things, but she didn’t cheat. Of course, she didn’t tell Bradley she was sorely tempted to have sex with one of her colleagues—she’d said she wanted to think about their relationship, where they were headed, and decide if they should move forward. It had sounded a lot like a business transaction, but it had also been the truth. She had doubts, and she figured this trip would make it clear to her if she could really, truly settle down and marry him.

Maybe she could. Maybe, at worst, this would turn into one last fling—something she’d be honest about with Bradley afterward.

But if she was lucky, it wouldn’t even be
that
. If she was lucky—and strong—it would be a matter of good company, some laughs, and nothing more.

Although when it came time to select a dress from her closet, she found temptation awaiting her already. She studied the one semi-conservative cocktail dress she owned—bought to attend her father’s retirement party a few months ago—and told herself it would be an appropriate choice for a night out with a man she hardly knew. But then she reached for the red dress she’d bought six months back yet had never worn. She remembered spotting it in a store window—something about its simple yet risqué lines had spoken to her. At the time, she’d thought she was buying it for some especially sexy occasion that would eventually reveal itself to her, and the bad girl inside her was currently whispering, “This is it.” She
shouldn’t
wear it, but…she took it off the hanger and put it on anyway.

The gathered crinkly fabric caressed her skin wherever it touched her—most notably at her breasts. The short length showed plenty of leg and the halter-style top of the dress dipped ultra-low, to a spot not far above her navel. The result was a v-neck that revealed the full inner curves of both breasts and the valley between. Indeed, as she looked at herself in the mirror, she knew this was a dress made for sin, pure and simple, and she loved the way she looked in it.

Checking her watch, she scooped up the small evening purse she’d filled with her room key and a couple of makeup items, then departed to meet Marc in the lobby.

The anticipation of the long-awaited meeting with her phone lover had her skin prickling with a combination of nervousness and excitement. When she stepped onto the elevator with two men who immediately let their gazes wander over her admiringly, her pussy began to feel achy and hot.

But it’s just a dress
, she reminded herself.
It doesn’t mean you’re going to do anything you shouldn’t. It doesn’t mean you can’t be a good girl tonight.

The moment she spotted Marc across the lobby, she knew she was doomed. He looked even better than the picture she’d seen online. His dark hair and olive complexion gave him an exotic air, and he looked crisp and handsome in a black suit that appeared tailor-made for his body. Even within the confines of the suit, she could tell he possessed broad shoulders and a muscled chest, and—when he turned to face the opposite direction, not yet having spotted her—a very nice ass.

If all that wasn’t bad enough, the nail in her coffin came when their eyes met across the room. His were chocolaty-brown, deep, rich, and they cast a sexual glimmer the camera had failed to capture.

The bad girl inside Diana instantly knew this was going to be trouble—trouble of the very best, most delicious kind.

* * * * *

Marc thought he shouldn’t have been surprised at how damn sexy she looked, but he still was. Her pinstriped suit had turned him on, but when it came to arousal, the dress she’d chosen for this evening was on an entirely different plane. From what he could see of her breasts—which was a lot—they looked firm and full and even more delectable than he’d imagined.

“You look…fabulous,” he said as they approached each other in the busy, ornate lobby.

Her smile was half-modest, half-seductive. “Thank you.” Her voice came out more whispery than he’d ever heard it on the phone, ratcheting his lust up another notch.

He gave her a light hug, careful not to let his crotch bump up against her—a little soon for that. But not too soon to feel those superb breasts brush his chest through their clothes, nearly making him let out a little moan.

When they climbed into the plush confines of the limo, she sat close to him, despite the large bench seat. She crossed her legs, letting her already short skirt reveal still more shapely thigh, and that quickly, Marc formed a theory. She might be dating that Bradley guy, but tonight he suspected she was all his.

It was a short drive up the strip to the hotel where their show was, and they spent it talking about the heat, the limo, and the action on the strip, which he assured her would become far busier as the night progressed and darkness fell. It was a chance for them to get used to being together, face-to-face—something that felt strange after so many phone conversations, but only for a minute or two. By the time the limo driver opened the door to let them out, Marc already felt comfortable with her, and he suspected that would only grow as the evening continued.

Over dinner in an elegant restaurant in the hotel, conversation deepened. Across a small candlelit table for two, they started out talking about work, but soon edged into Marc’s hopes for leaving the company soon. He hadn’t told anyone, only Diana, but he was currently doing a series of phone interviews with Briolet International, a company in Paris that made snow skis and accompanying gear. They needed someone to head up their North American marketing efforts and they wanted it to be an American.

“I’m not sure I’d want to move
that
far away,” Diana said. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m hardly a homebody, but for your average middle-class American, it takes a certain daring to put a whole ocean between you and everything you know.”

He grinned. “Maybe that’s why I want to go. I’ve always been an adventure-seeker. I guess that’s what brought me to Vegas a few years back—it seemed like an exciting place to live and work.”

“And isn’t it?” She raised her eyebrows.

He tilted his head and flashed a small smile. “Sure it is, but…I’ve been there, done that now. I’m ready for a
new
kind of excitement, and living in Europe for awhile seems like it fits the bill.”