Taste of Temptation (4 page)

"Jason."

Releasing her nipple, Jason ran his tongue up the side of her breast, across her collarbone and through the hollow at the center of her slender neck. It was heaven to feel her writhing under him. Watching her for so long, wondering what it would be like to hold her, kiss her, taste her—nothing could have prepared him for the ecstasy of her surrender. He'd tried to resist, to maintain the context of work only between them, but every time he saw her, something new and special caught his attention. The smell of her hair, the way she walked, her devotion to her clients ... the way he sometimes found her looking at him with soft eyes that held a million questions.

Now, as she looked up at him, her warm brown eyes still questioned, but they burned with a need he longed to satisfy. Supporting himself with one arm against the floor, he slid the other under her back to unzip her dress. She arched into him, facilitating his efforts until he knelt back and slid the saturated gown off her svelte form. She wore only panties, a simple pink swatch of silk darkened with her wet need.

Laine propped herself up on her elbows, an impish smile playing on her lips. Biting her bottom lip, she looked down at the panties and slipped her thumbs into the tiny string waist. Beneath lowered lashes, she gazed back up at him. “These are all wet and ruined. What are you going to do about them?"

A rough laugh escaped with his breath at the challenge he was more than ready to meet. “I've got some ideas, don't you worry.” His cock was fully erect, pressing against the front of his slacks, but it would just have to wait.

The corner of her mouth twisted up in an anticipating smile as he backed down to kiss her knee. Lapping at the sugary sweet frosting, he worked higher up her inner thigh to the hollow aside her juncture. With one hand stroking lightly over the damp patch of fabric, he followed with his mouth, breathing warmth through the sodden strip.

Her hips tilted up to meet the pointed tip of his tongue as he ran it through the sensitive valley of her pussy.

The sultry moan that escaped her drove him on, pushing him to his limits. Drawing in her musky scent, he had to taste her, had to feel her pleasure against his mouth, around his cock, again and again. He didn't think he'd ever be able to get enough. His hands slipped up to the slim hem at the top of her panties, and as he pushed his tongue against her opening through the fabric, his fists twisted, snapping the band.

She cried out, spasming against his mouth, sending waves of pulsing heat down his cock. He was never going to last.

He pulled the fabric from between them, revealing her smooth sex, shiny and glistening with her juices. Teasing between her plump lips with his tongue, he tasted the residual sweetness of cake mingling with the tang of her essence. It was heaven. Greedy for more, he delved into her channel, making her gasp and buck. He lapped through her depths until her fingers sifted into his hair, pulling him closer as she rocked against his face.

Running his tongue back up her pretty pink folds, he slipped a finger inside her, stroking the wet interior as his tongue sought out her hard clit. He thrust into her with a second finger, and her tight walls hugged against him, making him desperate to feel them hugging his cock.

He wanted her to come again and again, wanted to give her so much pleasure she wouldn't be able to think of anything but the feel of his body satisfying hers. He circled her clit faster, stroked it with the flat of his tongue, all the while feeling her body's response intensify as it constricted around his fingers.

"God! Yes,” she gasped, as he scraped over her sensitized bundle of nerves with his teeth and then sucked the little jewel between them. Her hips bucked and every part of her seemed to move in symphony with the suction of his mouth and stroking of his tongue, until she came in a chorus of screams against him.

The fingers wound in his hair spiraled free, seeking purchase on the shoulders of his shirt—yanking at it, trying to pull it free. Jason was a man willing to accommodate. Anxious to feel the rasp of her hard nipples against his flesh, he reached back and jerked his shirt over his head, tossing the garment to the side with her discarded gown. He unclasped his slacks, and his cock sprang free through the opening of his boxers.

Laine sat up, naked, legs spread, her swollen pussy lips slick from his attention. Her eyes still maintained that faraway quality of the recently satisfied, making him throb with renewed need to meet her there.

Her gaze tracked down his body to his cock and held. Quickly, he found his wallet and retrieved a condom. He needed to be inside of her, fast. His throat tightened. “Laine, I've got to have you.” His voice was thick and gravelly, desperate as he rolled the rubber over his aching shaft.

Laine lay back, her arms twined loosely above her head, and whispered, “Have me."

It was almost more than he could stand to keep from thrusting deep and hard into her right then. Muscles tensed, he leaned over her and ran his hands up the length of her arms to circle her wrists and pull them higher over her head. Heat flashed in her eyes as she tested his hold, and when he didn't give, her lips parted, trembling, as her halting breath came faster.

"Jason,” came her urgent plea.

Pressing the thick head of his cock against her opening, he eased into her tight, wet passage. Laine's eyes closed, and she slid one bent knee high up his back as he pushed slowly inside her, deeper and deeper, until their bodies met in a hungry kiss of flesh.

He pulled back and then sank deep again, savoring her quiet gasp as his shaft nudged her womb. Thrusting steadily, his every penetrating stroke claimed her body until soft friction and measured movements gave way to reckless contact, and their bodies were covered in a sheen of sweat and slapped together with each driving thrust. Jason felt his balls contract, and the nerves throughout his body spark to life, lending to the sensation of impending release. Laine cried out, her inner walls constricting with hard rhythmic pulses around his cock, as she begged him to take her harder, faster. Gasping, she spasmed wildly around him, demanding his thundering release. He roared as his body tensed in pleasured agony, and his seed spurted out into the condom.

They'd made love ... in a cake. Who knew how much time had passed since Jason, sated and fatigued, pulled her on top of him and closed his eyes. Laine had lost track of her place in the universe the instant his mouth grazed hers. When they touched, every part of her body, every part of her mind, blurred into one driving need to merge with the man who made her insane.

Her heart was pounding in her chest—what was she doing? Jason was too much of a risk. She thought about him too often, too intensely, to keep her heart from getting involved. And, worse yet, the reality of him had exceeded her fantasies by far.

Her phone rang. The muffled digital trill of “Here Comes the Bride” sounded from somewhere beneath the mush of cake and cream, indicating that Connie was the caller. Laine's head snapped up, her eyes wide. She was buck-naked, sprawled atop the sleeping form of Jason Henley in what could only be described as a ruined prep room at the Henley Hotel. The remains of the cake were embedded in the carpet and her every nook, cranny and crease.

What in the hell had she been thinking?

Frantic her boss somehow sensed that Laine had taken the perilous path and fallen into bed—er, on the floor—with their number one partner in the wedding industry, Laine was desperate to clarify to her—to anyone—the one-time nature of the whole thing. Pushing up on hands and knees astride Jason's prone form, she tried to crawl off him. Her knee slid out and her elbow jutted into his rib.

"Umph..."

"Shit—shit!” she squeaked, digging through cake and clothing. Jason's warm hand pressed against her back as he pulled her down to lave a wet kiss over her nipple before sucking the rosy tip into his mouth. “Shi—mmm,” She arched back and her nipple escaped the suction. “Jason, damn it, I need that phone. It's Connie calling. I have to explain."

"Okay, okay. Find your phone. Talk to Connie.” Jason sat up and helped Laine get off him. “Sounds like it's coming from that pile of mush next to the cart."

Laine crawled through the soggy mess and felt her way until she encountered the slim phone. She flipped it open with a small spray of sugar sludge and answered breathlessly. “Connie, I'm here. Sorry, I couldn't—"

Connie's smoke-worn voice snapped through the phone with more force than her two-pack a day Virginia Slims habit should have allowed. She wasn't happy and she wasn't mincing words. This was a fuck-up in her book, and she had a strict policy of three strikes and you're out. This was Laine's second.

After a few minutes of listening to Connie's tirade, Laine swallowed hard and found her voice. “Connie, you are absolutely right, and I take full responsibility for dropping the ball here. I should have been on him more. Okay, I'll see you in—” She looked down at her body and the tendrils of hair smeared with frosting. “Tomorrow ... Yes, it's going to take me a while to clean up a few details here ... Okay, see you then."

Looking back over her shoulder, she saw Jason reclined against a toppled chair—his chiseled body streaked with soggy cake and frosting. He was so perfect. She wanted to crawl over and lick him from head to toe, detouring in the middle until he came in her mouth. How could a man with a glob of buttercream above his ear look so damn sexy?

Shaking her head clear, she smiled and, working at a casual sound, winked at him. “Thanks, I needed that."

Jason's brow furrowed a bit, and then he shrugged his shoulders in dismissal. “Welcome. So how about a shower and something in a size six, maybe, from the boutique?"

"Wow, you really are full service. I don't suppose you have any idea how I might get to a shower without being seen by the staff?"

"Sorry, can't guarantee that for you, but the elevators are just around the corner. Let's get the table drape from under the cake here, and we'll wrap it around you. Do you want the dress and shoes on or are you going buff underneath? Buff is my preference, but I'd keep you that way every minute of the day if I could, so you might want to decide for yourself."

The way he looked her over had her body responding with a renewed pulse of need. She wanted to feel him buried inside her again, and maybe again after that. God, every touch had been perfect, intense. “I'll wear the shoes. It's more dignified, don't you think?"

He laughed and, leaning forward, grabbed the sapphire blue strapped heels and reached out for Laine's leg. Pulling her toward him, he caressed the ball and arch of her foot, stroked the heel, circled her ankle with the tip of his finger. He slipped on the sparkly shoe, carefully buckled the thin strap and ran his palm up her calf.

Under his spell, she let him move her leg so that her heeled foot was planted on the carpet, her knee bent, offering Jason an unobstructed view of her frosting-smeared thighs and sex. He took her other foot into his hands and rubbed it briefly before working the tiny buckle into place. With a soft caress, he planted her other foot wide apart, leaving him access to her wet center.

Looking up at him with wonder at the sensuality he infused into every act, she whispered, “Okay, maybe just one more time."

[Back to Table of Contents]

Saturday, the twelfth of June

"You're an asshole,” Laine accused, straightening the white silk guest book with a ballpoint, plumed pen.

"So you tell me. Keep it up, and I might develop a complex.” Jason had been following her around while she neatened the place cards for the reception, worked with the florist and checked in on her security detail—a guy on payroll assigned to be ever-present in the groom's company. There would be no opportunity for dalliance. There would be no third strike. Of course that meant keeping fuck-ups that stressed out brides to a minimum, which meant keeping her mind off Jason, the incredible, confusing lay from last week.

"I can't believe you partnered with Connie, had me assigned exclusively to your hotel, and didn't even have the courtesy to speak to me about it first."

Grabbing the box of Jordon almond bundles in pink tulle, he followed her from setting to setting as she distributed the favors to the parents’ table. “I called you three times this week. I tried to talk to you when you were here on Wednesday and yesterday. Not my fault you're too chicken to spend five minutes alone with me. Besides, you were already assigned to the Henley brides. Connie and I just put a few details down in ink."

Dragging a long breath in through her nose, Laine tried to rein in her emotions. “Why would you need to do that? And I am not chicken, so get your ego in check. I'm busy. You might have noticed it's June.
High season
. I don't have a lot of free time right now.” She paused her bustling and glanced up at Jason. “Besides, we work together. This can't be a good idea."

"There are more important things than business. But you're busy now, that's fine, we'll find time where we can and then in July I'll take you up to the cottage—"

"Okay, Jason ... this is how each setting should look ... exactly. I've got to run up and see Gloria to make sure the buttons on her dress got fixed. Make sure your people get every spot exactly the same."

She offered her most professional, insincere smile, knowing he would see through it in a second flat, and sprinted out of the reception hall for the main lobby. There wasn't time for chit-chat, and the last thing she needed was another distraction. The job was important. The career was important. More important than whatever fling Jason had in mind.

He was a world class player, everyone knew it. Laine had no problem with it either. If she went into the relationship with a no strings attitude, she wouldn't get hurt. But that meant keeping her emotions from spiraling out of control. So long as she played by her rules, got out fast and didn't let some little thing like a crush get the better of her, she would be all right. Life was about choices, and she was making her own.

Of course, it surprised her to no end that Jason had actually called throughout the week, and she was doing her damnedest to keep her heart from fluttering into overdrive each time she saw his number on the caller-ID display. She'd given in the week before, without thought of consequence, because the temptation had been too great. But when their sexy tryst was over, she'd expected he'd never mention it again. Only Jason hadn't brushed her off. He hadn't dismissed her to work with some flunky manager at the hotel. He'd called, and when he hadn't gotten her on the phone, he'd waited until today and spent the better part of the morning not taking no for an answer.

She had to keep her distance from him if she had any chance of getting through the wedding without giving in to whatever tawdry suggestion he proposed. He'd probably try to drag her off to the coatroom during dinner. Make a bed of fur coats and run his big heavy hands up her thighs ... No. It was June, so there wouldn't be any fur coats, and she was a professional, so there wouldn't be any coatroom nookie either. Today, she was all business, and there would be one happy bride and groom at the day's end to attest to it.