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Unable not to, he followed his instincts, pushing her back against one of the lavishly decorated walls, dropping to his knees, parting her legs, and fervently licking her inner thigh.

The salty-sweet taste of her come met his tongue, making his heart beat faster, making every muscle in his body tense with pure, hard want. His cock felt like it would burst from behind his zipper—so stiff now that it actually hurt.

He licked one thigh, then the other, listening to her low, uncontrolled moans, aware she was still trembling and now clutching helplessly at the wall behind her, splaying her fingers over the wallpaper, curling them inward as if she could grab on to it. And he hadn’t even come anywhere near her pussy yet.

“God, Damon. In the room. Now. Please. Or I’ll die.”

He almost believed her. He’d never felt quite this tortured with lust, either.

They made it the rest of the way up the hall, but it was all he could do to get out his wallet and key card to get them inside.

She headed through the large foyer and dining area straight to the bedroom, Damon hot on her heels. And then, just when he thought she couldn’t surprise him anymore than she already had—she did. When he stepped into the room, she turned, grabbed his forearms, and shoved him hard onto the bed. He fell back easily, not having expected it, then watched as hot, hungry little Brenna straddled his thighs and started working ravenously at

his belt buckle, just as she already had once tonight—but with more fervor now.

A few seconds later, his hungry cock jutted free, and he helped her, pushing his jeans farther open, his briefs down. And then she mounted him, lowering her wet, warm, tight little cunt down over him so fast and hard that they both cried out.

Ah, God—just like before, the sensation of being flesh to flesh almost overwhelmed him.  She rode him like a wild cowgirl, at the same time ripping her tank top off over her head.  Underneath she wore a sexy red bra, cut low, the round curves of her breasts arcing upward. Hot pleasure filled him—the pure pleasure of sex, but also the unexpected delight of Brenna having her way with him, so rough and nasty.

“Need more of these gorgeous tits,” he said through clenched teeth, then reached to yank  down the lace-rimmed cups of her bra so that they merely outlined the two pretty mounds  of flesh. She gasped hotly, then moaned when he took them in his hands, squeezing,  molding their lush softness, feeling those hard, beaded nipples point into his palms.

And then her movements slowed, just a little, turning more rhythmic, and her eyes fell shut, and he knew, that fast, she would come.

“Oh God, baby,” she purred—then, softer, “yes. Now. Yes .”

Her head dropped back and he sensed the orgasm pounding through her as he watched her breasts bounce, her whole body jolting slightly—again, again. Damn, she was beautiful

when she came.

Of course, most women were, but when Brenna climaxed, he couldn’t help seeing that staid office girl in his mind, and the contrast between that vision and this one made it all the more incredible.

“Oh, wow,” she sighed, her body dipping slightly forward, a sexy smile of relief taking over

her face as she met his gaze.

“That was fast,” he said with a grin, going still now, just for a minute, to let her recover.

“I told you how close I was.”

“I love that you stayed aroused all damn night long.”

She nodded, smiled, and lazily licked her lips, confirming that—indeed—she had.

And for some reason he remembered her trying this position in the tub last night, and nearly pushing him under, which he’d thought was cute as hell. “This is a much better place for you to be on top,” he said, gritting his teeth again as he began to drive upward again into her hot, drenched flesh.

As she began to meet his thrusts, her answer came on labored breath, between strokes.

“This is…the first time…we’ve done it…in a bed.”

His breathing turned just as ragged. “Don’t…get too attached…to the bed, babe.”

“Why?”

“It’s…a surprise.” Something that had occurred to him on the gondola, when they’d been

talking dirty, when he’d been making her fantasize about fucking him in the boat.

“Another one?”

“For tomorrow night. And I promise…you’ll like it. Now let me…suck your tits.” He needed

them in his mouth more than he needed air to breathe.

Biting her lip, she leaned over, bracing her arms on both sides of his head, letting those beautiful breasts dangle over his face. He captured one erect nipple between his lips, letting the hardness on his tongue drive him mad as he licked, French-kissed, then sucked.

Above him, her moans flooded the room and he understood that Brenna’s tits were even more sensitive than he’d realized. Moving to the other breast, he drew the beautifully beaded peak into his mouth, still plunging his cock up into her welcoming pussy. “Oh baby,  ” she breathed as he suckled her still more roughly, and when she arched deeper, he took in as much of the soft female flesh as he could.

Her breath grew thready again—quick, and her movements more sensual. Damon closed his hands over her ass, stretching his fingers to encompass as much of her rear as he could, massaging, matching the rhythm she used to fuck him now. He felt her desire gathering, tightening—and he was more than ready to erupt in her but held back, because he knew she was going to come again.

Her moans intensified, her breath growing still more shallow.

He sucked hard, pulling her nipple as far back in his mouth as he could, listening to her soft cry of pleasure.

He rammed his erection upward in hard, slow strokes.

And then it broke—he heard her sob, felt the slight collapse in her pelvis, then her cunt thrusting, thrusting, as she rode it out, her whole body moving and sliding against his, creating perfect friction.

Finally, she sank to his chest, appearing thoroughly spent. “Oh my God,” she finally whispered. “I can’t believe I came twice—just like last night.”

Running one hand through her silky hair, he smiled. “Why not?”

She sounded exhausted. “Well, I hear all the stories about multiple orgasms, but…I just never really had them—until you.”

“How was this one?” he asked softly.

“Um…intense.”

“In a good way?”

She nodded against his T-shirt.

And he instinctually rolled her to her back, without ever withdrawing, until he lay on top of her, peering down at her face, her cheeks flushed, her expression still impassioned.

He thought maybe he’d never looked so closely at her before this moment. Her green eyes

possessed little flecks of gold and brown that made him think of a starburst. “Pretty eyes,”

he whispered without weighing it.

Her smile was utterly sweet, her voice tender. “Thank you.”

And something in his chest tightened. He hardly ever had sex in the missionary position.  Mainly because he generally found it boring, and confining in ways—but…it wasn’t boring now. Now it was like…too much; he was too close to her, face-to-face, their eyes locked.

And he knew he’d been close to her before, during all the other times they’d fooled around or fucked, but somehow this, just now, felt dangerous, like something he needed to back away from.

So he pulled out and said, “Turn over. On your hands and knees.”

She obeyed without argument, arching her pretty ass in the air, her skirt hugging her hips now and giving him a sumptuous view of her parted pussy before he molded his hands to her rear and rammed his cock back into her.

She cried out, and he said, “Tell me you like it. Tell me you like it hard.”

“Unh,” she moaned. Then, “Oh God, yes—I do! Give it to me hard.”

That was all he wanted, all he needed. Good, mindless fucking. He forgot about her eyes and drove back into her still-wet passageway—hard, hard, hard—as hard as he fucking could, until he reached the edge of bliss and let himself tumble over, yelling, “Christ, babe,  I’m coming in you! Now.”

Ah, yeah—it was so damn good spilling his hot come in her, letting it loose, finally, after all these hours of building lust.

And when he’d emptied completely, that familiar exhaustion hit and he crumpled on top of her, felt them tumbling to the bed together—and as they lay there, silent and close, as he heard her breathing and took in the scent of her perfume combining with the rich aroma of sex, he realized turning her over hadn’t really changed anything.

He still felt close to her and there was apparently nothing he could do about it.

Shit.

So he simply kissed her on the cheek and let himself drift into post-orgasmic slumber.

Eight

A little while later, Brenna dragged herself from the bed, heading to the bathroom to wash up a bit. She took off her shoes, then shed her skirt on the way, exhausted but bubbling with a happiness she’d never quite experienced before. She felt downright giddy. And dreamy. About sex. About Damon. She’d just never known it could be this good. She’d never known being so naughty could feel so invigorating. It felt as if Damon had opened a whole part of life to her that she couldn’t have experienced without him, and her entire body hummed with an unsurpassed satisfaction.

Peering into the mirror, she sighed happily. She’d quickly grown used to her new hair color and cut. And now…she was even getting used to being a highly sexed woman, using her body in exactly the way it had been built to use.

And it suddenly hit her once more, with new force…that new Brenna didn’t really exist anymore—because this wasn’t an act anymore, someone she was pretending to be, or even trying to be. She really was new Brenna now, totally at home with Damon and totally at ease with all the outrageous sex they enjoyed together.

And this was probably stupid, probably dangerous as hell to even let herself ponder, but what if…what if this all somehow worked out and Damon wasn’t fired and they did keep working together? What if what happened in Vegas didn’t stay in Vegas, after all? What if they spent so much time together that he realized he was crazy about her, more than just physically, and that maybe a relationship wasn’t really such a horrible thing?

Letting out another sigh, this one girlishly hopeful, she withdrew her gaze from her reflection and reemerged into the bedroom, where she found that Damon, too, had kicked off his clothes and made his way under the covers. God, he looked good lying there, all sleepy and sexy and rumpled—and spent, because of her.

“Cell phone’s blinking, babe,” he told her, eyes shut.

She swung her gaze to the dressing table at one side of the room, where she’d dropped her purse and phone earlier. She’d left them at the hotel every night they’d gone out, having decided the purse would be a hindrance she didn’t need, especially since Damon’s  Blue Night credit card covered all her travel expenses. And that was before she’d even understood that so much sex would be involved, so it had turned out to be an excellent decision.

Padding naked to the table, she picked up the phone, flipped it open, and retrieved the message.

Then she heard Jenkins’ voice. “Just checking in with you, Brenna. Damon mentioned in e-mail that you’re learning fast and have a real ear for music, so good job. Especially since things aren’t looking promising with Claire. I wouldn’t be surprised if she files suit very soon, and if that happens, you know what it means—Damon’s out and you’re in.”

Oh hell.

She flipped the phone shut, hoping Damon was asleep.

No such luck. “Anything important?”

“No.”

“Then why do you look upset?”

She glanced over to find his gorgeous brown eyes now open and studying her with clear concern.

“It was Kelly,” she fudged. “She’s having man trouble, that’s all.”

“Ah,” he said, tipping his head back lightly into the pillow, then letting his eyes close again.

“Turn out the lights and come to bed. I want to wrap around you.”

So now she’d lied to him. Up to this moment, it had only been deceit, keeping something from him that affected him greatly, and that had been awful enough. But now she had

pointedly, purposefully, lied to keep her dirty little secret.

And like she’d told Kelly when all this had started, she hated lying.

She did her best to swallow back the stinging guilt as she flipped off the bedside lamp and crawled beneath the covers with her lover—the man she was misleading in order to steal his job.

THE FIFTH NIGHT

“Pleasure is the bait of sin.”

—Plato

One

The next day, Damon informed Brenna that he needed to make a few phone calls to some of the acts he managed at Blue Night, and he was going to put them on speaker phone so she could hear how he dealt with “the talent.”

Thus she listened as he assuaged the fears of an alternative band whose first CD wasn’t getting as much attention as they’d hoped. And as he explained to an R&B singer why the release of his next long-awaited CD was being pushed back another two months. And as  Blue Night’s biggest star, British rocker Malcolm Barstow, bitched Damon out over everything from song selection on his upcoming CD to not liking the photographer who’d done the cover shoot.