Seduction (28 page)

When they reached the softly lit room, with its still-flickering tea lights, he laid her down like a precious treasure on the thick, fluffy bath mat and stroked her hair. Then he stood up again, located the cabinet, and rummaged for the condoms.

‘Catch!' he said, tossing the little packet to her, then sat down on the seat of the toilet to pull off his work boots.

Boots first, then socks, then jeans, then tattered T-shirt. All off. Only to reveal a body that was almost the stuff of her fantasies, but somehow more attractive and sexually alluring for
not
being quite perfect.

He was slightly chunkier naked than she imagined her dream guy to be, but she liked his solid, latent power. He was hairier too. The nice pelt on his chest and belly was matched by a rough, dark dusting on his legs. Mmm, primitive . . . and good.

He was all man. Real man. Horny and honest. His cock seemed to yearn towards her, bold and pointing, craving her pussy. His smile was macho, pleased with himself, but his boyish self-confidence made her smile back at him.

This was all so easy. No striving to be perfect, to make everything perfect and idealised. It was OK to be a bit clumsy, and to giggle.

Which she did when he knelt down, pushing her thighs apart and shuffling in between them. The sight of his cock bouncing and swinging induced mirth, as well as lust.

‘Well, don't muck about, love queen, stick a condom on me,' he urged cheerfully, jutting his hips forwards.

Lucy complied happily. She didn't care about being bossed about, because she knew it was all in fun. He wanted sex, but somehow he also cared. She ripped open a packet and reached for his delightful rod.

It was a fumble, a sticky fumble, with much groaning and wriggling and touching and more laughing as they squirmed about into position.

‘Do you want a bit more fingering, love? I mean, I will . . . but I'm dying to get into you.'

‘You're a prince, landlord mine,' she replied, taking hold of his cock and gently dragging it towards its destination. ‘But I think I'll manage . . . I'm dying for
you
to get inside me.'

He pushed. She jerked with her hips. He slid in with a mighty thrust, his big organ stretching her.

She wrapped her arms around his torso, and her legs around his hips.

He leaned over and kissed her, his lips gentle in the moment before the action. The words, ‘You feel beautiful, babe,' followed, exquisitely soft and full of meaning.

They rocked and bucked, they heaved and shoved, his pubic bone knocking hard against her clitoris as his delicious cock slid and pumped inside her.

It didn't take long until they achieved their goal together, and Lucy flew, her heart soaring on sweet waves of pulsing pleasure, then lifting again as she felt Steve lose it, and pulse inside her.

Later, after using almost all the condoms, and drinking all the champagne, Steve turned the water back on so they could make tea and use it to wash down enormous bacon sandwiches that they scoffed like famished kids. Replete then, they sat in silence, just smiling at each other across the table.

And Lucy realised something as Steve reached across and gave her hand a companionable squeeze.

There was silence from beneath the sink. No dripping leak. Another job well done.

She placed her other hand over Steve's, then winked, and nodded in the direction of the bedroom.

Grinning again, Steve was on his feet fast, reaching for her hand, his fingers warm and sure around hers.

There was still one condom left, so tonight was turning out to be perfect, after all.

As might other nights, Lucy hoped. She really hoped . . .

Portia da Costa is the author of the Black Lace novels
Continuum, Entertaining Mr Stone, Gemini Heat, Gothic Blue, Hotbed, Shadowplay, Suite Seventeen, The Devil Inside, The Stranger, The Tutor
and
In Too Deep
. Her paranormal novellas are included in the Black Lace collections
Lust Bites
and
Magic and Desire
.

AT FIVE MINUTES
to closing, Morin Lansing flipped off the
OPEN
sign and the display window lights then walked across the store to the dressing room. Paul would be here in half an hour to pick her up. Time to ask her customers to leave.

The man had insisted on being in the dressing room with his girlfriend . . . wife . . .

Whatever . . .

The two of them had gone through at least twenty different dresses. Three of the last four were draped over the rod holding up the privacy curtain.

Morin opened her mouth to speak but stopped as a soft moan slipped through the thin curtain. She raised her hand to knock on the door frame but a breathy groan made her hesitate.

Peering through a tiny opening in the curtain revealed the woman – fair and curvy – her shoulders pressed against the wall with her hips pushed forwards. The woman's mouth hung open, her tongue skittering across her full lower lip.

Morin dropped her gaze, following the swell of the woman's breasts past the six-hundred dollar dress – not yet paid for – hiked around her waist, and found the dark-haired man with his face buried in the apex of the woman's thighs. His hands rustled under a swath of expensive silk near her ass.

Heat swirled in Morin's lower stomach. An ache of need reminded her of Paul's recent neglect in the bedroom.

‘Jason . . .' The woman breathed his name like a reverent prayer. ‘We shouldn't . . .'

Jason lifted his head. His lips glistened with her juices. ‘Come on, baby . . . You know the rules. If it's on your list, you have to go through with it.' The staid suit jacket was gone and his tie hung loose, dangling down over his open shirt.

‘List?' Morin's lips mouthed the word. Her teeth caught her bottom lip, forcing silence. Curiosity kept her still, suppressing a shiver of desire.

‘I know.' The woman's whisper was almost inaudible.

Jason's hands ran down her thighs and back up again. ‘Hey, the list thing was your idea but we can stop if you want to.'

‘No!' Her fingers ran through his hair. ‘No . . .' This time the word was gentler. She banged the back of her head against the wall with a soft thud. ‘What if the salesgirl comes back?'

Standing, Jason planted a quick kiss on the woman's mouth. He sucked on her lower lip then murmured, ‘Then we get caught. Wasn't that part of the excitement? Part of what got you so hot to begin with?'

A shudder swept through Morin from the base of her neck, down her spine and straight to her sex. Wet heat laced through her pussy.

‘You're so sexy, standing there exposing yourself,' Jason mumbled between kisses. ‘Sara, so hot . . .'

Sara wrapped one leg around Jason's thigh. Her body undulated against her lover's crotch. A flush reddened her creamy breasts, rising up her throat to her face. ‘Yes . . .' Her whisper barely reached Morin's ears. ‘Let's do it.'

Twining his fingers through Sara's hair, Jason ravaged her mouth with passion-filled kisses, hard and deep. He angled his head from one side to the other, revealing a flash of tangled tongues, as he devoured her mouth.

Morin pressed a hand to her lips as if she could feel the bruising assault. Her face flushed with heat. A thin sheen of sweat beaded her forehead.

Jason freed one hand from Sara's hair. Sliding down, he cupped a full breast. His thumb and forefinger tweaked a barely concealed nub into a plump knot.

Soft moans escaped from Sara, past Jason's lips. Her body ground against him with more and more frantic motions. Lifting her leg higher, she hooked her heel into his tight-muscled ass. Her fingers curled into his broad back.

Morin's rapid breath threatened to expand into a full-blown pant. Afraid they'd hear her, she cupped a hand over her mouth, forcing slower breaths through her nose. Her body trembled with fear of discovery and the delicious thrill of the forbidden.

Tugging the low-cut neckline of the expensive silk dress, Jason exposed one full breast. With a final hard kiss, he licked his way down Sara's long neck, leaving a shining trail of saliva.

Sara's head bumped against the dressing-room wall as she arched back, allowing him greater access. One hand moved from his back to his wavy dark hair. Long fingernails combed through the unruly curls then her fingers clutched several locks. Pulling his head lower, Sara gasped a long moan-filled sigh as his mouth clamped onto her nipple. ‘God, yes . . .'

Morin trailed a hand across her breast. Fantasy moist heat surrounded her nipple. A rush of not-so-imaginary dampness lined her panties.

Jason's mouth freed the rosy nipple. Glistening with moisture, the areola pimpled from either cold or desire.

A shiver raced through Morin, shuddering its way down her spine. She squeezed her aching breast, letting her thoughts place her in the dressing room instead of Sara.

Large hands, strong and sure, moved past Sara's waist. Pushing between their bodies, Jason's movements hinted at his
action. His arm slid up and down, cocking at the elbow with each stroke.

Morin resisted the temptation to mimic his actions. Her customers might not care about getting caught but she didn't want them to find her fingering herself . . . while watching them. She should walk away. Leave them to their public seduction in private. But her body refused to obey her mind.

Instead, her thoughts drifted to Sara's ‘list'. Morin's mind twisted through a dozen thoughts – public sex, obviously – but what else?

Morin had fought with Paul over their sex life. He wanted to spice things up a little . . . try different things. Although public sex hadn't been on his list.

A small voice whispered in the recesses of her mind, ‘Maybe it should be . . .'

Desire forced a small gasp from her lips. Her heart froze, chest tight as she held her breath. When Sara and Jason didn't react, Morin took a long slow breath.

Her gaze riveted on Sara's pumping hips, Morin caught vague glimpses – or maybe her imagination supplied the view – of Jason's fingers, slick and shiny.

Clenching her thighs, Morin shuddered as a rush of pleasure pulsed through her cunt. Her teeth dug into her lip to silence a moan. The salty taste of blood teased her tongue. Even pain didn't dampen the heat burning through her.

Shit . . .

The sharp stab of her tender lip seemed to heighten the sensuous tremors consuming her body. And a little pain was on Paul's list – not that he'd made one. A frown creased her forehead. At least she didn't think he had.

Paul had started out with subtle hints, little things. Watching a movie or pictures from the internet, he'd commented on how some things were hot. Forbidden things like tying up, spanking. Once or twice, he'd spanked her – just a few slaps to her
ass while fucking her from behind. And she couldn't ignore his enthusiasm for holding her down, restraining her.

For the most part, she had ignored his suggestive comments and let him get away with certain activities. When he'd finally come out and asked about inviting another couple to join them in the bedroom, Sara had had to draw the line. The idea haunted her, both exciting and terrifying her. Afterwards, their sex life had grown cold. Paul had grown distant. She was losing him because of her own fears.

Her mind lost in the memory, she didn't hear the words Sara mouthed near Jason's ear. Or maybe she hadn't spoken loudly enough. Whatever she'd said, Jason's head popped up, a wide grin spread across his face.

‘You really want to?' Even as he spoke, Jason tugged the tie from around his neck.

‘Yes.' Sara rubbed her body against his. ‘Do it.' She held her hands in front of her, wrists together, mouth crooked in a lopsided smile. ‘In for a penny and all that . . .'

Jason twisted the tie into a noose then slipped the loop over Sara's hands. Tugging the tie tight, he pulled her hands above her head, tying the other end onto a hook meant to hang clothes, not experimenting lovers. Dropping to his knees, Jason pulled Sara's thighs apart. His tongue slipped between her folds.

Morin's knees went weak. She grabbed the door frame to keep from pitching through the curtain concealing her from the two lovers. Could they read her mind? Know what she was thinking?

Instinct screamed at her to run, get away from the scene unfolding in the dressing room, but her feet refused to co-operate. Images jumbled through her mind like a slide show – first Sara, restrained to the wall with Jason's face buried in her snatch. Next, Morin bound across a bed with Paul's hand reddening her ass. Paul fucking her hard with her tied tight, immobile, unable to resist.

‘No,' Morin whispered. What would Paul think – really think of her – if she let him?
Why had he had to ask?
The thought ran through her mind for the thousandth time that month. If he'd acted instead of asked . . .

Clenching her thighs, Morin braced her hand against the door frame and closed her eyes as an orgasm washed through her. The harsh gasp of air rushed in her ears like a sonic boom. Flicking her eyes open, she glanced through the slit in the curtain.

Sara's stare met Morin's but she didn't speak or alert Jason to her presence. Instead, Sara's pink tongue ran a wet trail across her lower lip then she puckered her mouth in Morin's direction.

Freed from her frozen state, Morin stepped back away from the curtain. Her heart raced in her chest, echoing in her ears. Long hard breaths forced her close to hyperventilation. Leaning against the wall, Morin ran her hands through sweat-damp hair.

Sara's soft moans grew louder. Words mingled with the sound. ‘Oh, yes, Jason. Feels so good.' The woman knew Morin was lurking outside the dressing room. Her volume must be for Morin's benefit.

Turning to face the wall, Morin pressed her flushed forehead against the cool wood. In spite of the need to run, Morin edged back along the wall until one eye met the opening in the curtain.