Authors: K.M. Liss
Layers of Sin
Copyright © K.M.Liss 2014.
All Rights Reserved.
This book is sold subject to conditions that it cannot by way of trade be lent, resold, hired out or otherwise circulated without the author’s prior consent, in any form or cover, other than which it is published.
Disclaimer: This novel is a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it, while at times based on real figures, are purely the work of the author’s imagination.
Thanks & Acknowledgements
Love and thanks to my family and friends, for believing in me and encouraging me to write my little heart out.
I've been working in my new job for exactly thirty minutes, when he sails into my life, like a well built luxury yacht, docking in my harbor.
You don't see many guys like him on an average day. He's gorgeous, and possesses the most wicked pair eyes, so steely blue and penetrating. My gaze roams around his face, absorbing every part of it. Alarm be
lls start ringing. He's trouble.
Beware. Danger ahead. Female trespassers will be screwed, left, right and center, abandoned in the wastelands of their desire, and left to burn in the hell of their of desperation.
I smother a giggle of amusement. Then give myself a mental kick. Actually, it's not funny. Why am I finding amusement in the misery of women who have been treated badly by men? Considering my past experiences, I would have thought that would be the last thing I'd want to laugh about. But I suppose everyone should have a light hearted moment in life, from time to time, and find humor in the cause of their sorrows.
In any case, I'm enjoying the visual treat.
How I'd love to rub my hands over that unshaven stubble which bristles his chin. In fact I'd enjoy rubbing my hands over all of him, exploring that perfectly proportioned neck and those broad shoulders. I can just imagine my fingertips gliding over the wealth of muscular definition, which is tantalizingly just hidden, and subtly flexing, beneath his fitted black T.
“Mocha grande with an extra shot, please.” His voice breaks through my lustful thoughts.
I'm putting my strong reaction to him down to sexual withdrawal symptoms. I'm bound to have the odd moment which is beyond my control.
How well his voice complements him. It's honey flowing into my ears. Not too deep to sound gruff, but the right pitch that it travels down my spine in a pleasantly tingling wave. It has a tiny catch to it, which is the sweetest cherry on the top. I can't help but sigh as I float across to the coffee station. I fill two coffee holders, tamp them down and lock them tightly in the machine. I quickly float back to the till to soak up some more of the divine creature before me.
He cocks his head and looks at me as he gets his credit card out of his wallet.
“So when did you start working here?” The question surprises me, very pleasantly.
“Half an hour ago, and you're my first mocha, ever,” I reply sweetly.
I find myself in full flirty flow―eyelash batting―coy look―sensual smile―the whole shebang.
I give myself a strong talking to. A brutal reminder of where I've just been.
I don't need another Andy. Another much too good looking guy, who's smothered in women and temptation, wherever he goes. Looking and fantasizing is all I'm doing here. I need to keep it strictly in my head, where his kind of temptation belongs.
I bring myself back to the task in hand. My job. He's my third customer. The two very senior ladies, sitting nearby, were my first and second. I'm not that confident yet and hope and pray I don't screw up over his chocolate fix. I know it's only a coffee shop, and I'm a lowly trainee barista, but I'm so pleased to have this job and I want to do well on my first day.
It would have been easier if God's gift to women hadn't appeared so early in my initiation. Now I'm feeling more nervous than ever.
I'm trying so damn hard not to stare, and to keep calm and composed.
“Pretty name,” he says, gesturing at my name badge, pinned just above my breast.
“Thanks,” I whisper.
“And a pretty face too...pretty all over, I guess.” His lips twitch into a sexy smile. I'm glowing inside like a hot coal, my heart fluttering wildly in my chest
“Pretty crazy, maybe,” I joke, trying to ease the tension.
“Even better. Pretty and crazy―my favorite combo.”
The next moment I'm thrown a real curve. He leans on his forearms, across the counter and places his hand over mine.
I'm a little stunned at his intimacy.
I wasn't instructed on touchy-feely customer behavior in the training.
Of course, I know full well I should take my hand away, but I really don't want to.
I'm not sure where to look as he strokes my wrist with his finger. His touch is softer than a feather brushing my skin. Every hair on my body rises to attention in a flush of pleasure. My legs feel weak beneath me.
Shit, I'm going to faint any second, he's absolutely lethal.
“I'm pleased to meet you, anyway, whoever you are,” I summon up some appropriate words and utter them mindlessly, breaking the uncomfortable silence that strains between us.
His eyes sparkle and a grin appears. The grin widens until it becomes a lovely big smile. It's so white and bright it could light a small town on a dark winter's night.
Everything female inside me tenses tightly with pleasure. I silently purr with delight, as a shiver runs through me, and my mind wanders into the forbidden realm. I'm fantasizing, imagining his finger winding its way so very softly over my body, as a half smile hovers on his lips.
I bite my tongue as a moan threatens to bubble up inside me.
“I'm Sean Tyler,” he says, interrupting my erotic daydream.
“Right,” I reply. It seems he has the sexiest name as well. It floats around inside my head, which is about to go into serious meltdown.
Then, as if he realizes I've had enough sexual stimulation for the first five minutes of our acquaintance, he removes his hand from mine.
But it's not a quick parting. He does it so slowly. His fingertip easing down the back of my hand and right to the end of my index finger. He gently presses my nail creating a lasting impression of his touch. The pressure buzzes wildly in my brain, as I imagine his fingers pressing firmly into other softer parts of me. My breathing shoots off into the stratosphere, my heart rate in close pursuit. I think I just had a fingernail orgasm.
I doubt any woman could resist him if he put his mind to it
He stands up straight again and I can see he has enjoyed his little game. There's a distinctly victorious grin on his mouth, and I can almost smell the wave of male hormones whizzing through the air.
I steel myself, trying to return to normal. But it's damned impossible. I tap his order on the till touchscreen with over forceful fingers. “That's three ninety five please. You can put your card in now.”
He glides it in the reader slot with a smooth movement, his fingertip giving it a little prod. I can't help but stare at his fingers, so long and lovely, and his neat, spotlessly clean nails. I wonder if everything else is as gorgeous as the parts I can see.
No doubt it is.
He waits patiently, finger poised, to put his number in, as the card reader processes. My eyes absorb the fringe of dark eyelashes his lowered lids have revealed. His mouth is set in a sulky male pout. The kind you want to smother with kisses to make it smile again.
I'm a completely lost case. I hope he doesn't come by too often. He's much too much to cope with while I'm at work. Too big a distraction. I was absolutely right with my initial assessment. He's dangerous territory.
“Sugar?” I croak.
“No thanks, but give it a real good stir. I like the chocolate well mixed in.”
His eyes roam unashamedly all over me, from the top of my head to my hips. Not only have I been complimented and hand stroked, I'm now being very thoroughly checked out. He's paying particular attention to my white shirt, which I borrowed from Charlotte as I had no money to buy myself one. And as it's a size too small, it happens to be a little stretched in the region of my breasts.
My chest heaves with ramped up breathing, as he takes in my instantly pointed assets, and the buttons strain dangerously close to popping point.
I thank God for the distraction, as Charlotte re-appears from the stock room upstairs, and noisily dumps the packs of coffee beside me on the counter-side.
Her delight at seeing our customer is immediately evident.
Sean, how ya doing, honey?
” she says, her voice an excited squeak, and her face lighting up with the biggest smile I've ever seen her wearing.
She knows sex god Sean? And she never once mentioned him?
As I prepare his drink, I listen to their conversation, lapping up every word.
“I'm good, how about you?”
“My day just got a whole lot better,” she replies breathily. He laughs at her cheeky flirting. “Are you home for a while?” she probes nosily.
“A couple of weeks, I'm doing some utility work-wear for DeWalt.”
“Well that sounds dull. No sexy underwear this time?”
“I've satisfied my client with enough shots of that nature, apparently.”
Surely that's not possible
,” she says, in a sultry tone.
From the conversation so far, of utility work-wear and shots of sexy underwear, I've gleaned the fact he's a model of some kind.
Now I really can't believe it, Charlie's actually hanging across the whole counter-top, standing on her tip-toes, trying to get closer to him.
“Too much of a good thing, I guess,” he chuckles, dirtily.
I think I might have to join Charlie on the counter soon.
I'm stirring his mocha, at the end of the counter, mixing it very well, as instructed,
and feeling a rising heat as visions of him lounging on a bed, in tight white underwear, flood my fevered brain.
I press the lid on firmly, and place his drink on the counter in front of him, with a napkin on top, desperately trying to keep the blush from deepening on my cheeks.
“I'm on a quick ten. Duty calls, gotta dash.” His eyes flick back to mine. “Thanks, Melissa.” He picks up his mocha and takes a sip, and he smiles his approval, pleasurably. His tongue smooths over his lower lip, far too sensually and his eyes flare mischievously. “Mmm... not at all bad... for a mocha virgin.”
He winks at me.
Oh please, please take me with you....
I'm absurdly pleased I've pleased him. I mentally slap myself as I watch his tall, muscular body stride out the door, cross the busy sidewalk and into the street, sipping his mocha en route.
“So,” I begin, slowly regaining my calm, “and who is Sean Tyler exactly?”
Charlotte lets out a long breath of pent up desire at my side.
“He's a freelance model, lives at number 67 across the street, and I want to fuck him
it's painful,” she says in much too loud a voice. I look across the shop in embarrassment. The respectable old dears who are sitting nearby didn't seem to hear her strongly expressed ardent desires and are still oblivious to the world―thank God for old age deafness.
“I'm sure a lot of girls feel that way,” I agree, quietly.
And put me in that number.
“I catch fire every time I see him, but he's so cool with me.”
“Perhaps he has a girlfriend already?” I say, trying to spare her feelings. But I think it's more likely he's just not interested in her. I don't think Sean would be backward in hitting on Charlotte if he was interested. Charlotte is a dear friend and I love her to pieces, but she's a real character, and an acquired taste. Her pink hair, loud make up, multiple piercings and various tattoos, are a little on the strong side. I have no idea about Sean's preferences of course, but I'm guessing he may prefer a more natural look. More like mine. I always wear make up and take care of my appearance, and I'm a real girl in that respect, but it's a subtle enhancement of my looks that I try to achieve, not a modern art statement like Charlotte.
“I don't care if he's got a girlfriend or not. I'm obsessed with him, I've got to have him somehow.”
“Charlie, hang on―you're actually 'obsessed' with a guy?” This doesn't fit with her usual uncommitted personality.
Her eyes fasten on mine. She has a look of real desperation on her face.
“I've never had this happen to me before, I even dream about him.”
“I understand that, he's a really hot guy, pure fantasy material,” I say wistfully.
“Lissa...why don't you invite him to our party? I can force a few drinks down him and get him in my clutches.”
” I splutter.
“Ask him yourself, you're the one obsessed.”
“No, I don't wanna get rejected. Not by him. It'll be the end of my whole fucking life.”
“Oh, don't be ridiculous.”
She pouts at me with the whole big eyes thing. I thinks she's trying to look appealing but it doesn't come over very well. It makes her look a little stupid.
“Oh, go on, you owe me...I did get you the job here...please?” she whines, “and you're so much more subtle than me. Hit him with a casual invite and ask if he's got any friends who wanna come too.”
She's right about two things. Yes, she got me the job and yes, I am a lot more subtle than her. But as for the invite, I'm not sure it's a wise decision. And he's a customer after all. Mixing business with this type of pleasure may not be the best of combinations. I try and put her off and make her see reason.