SeductiveIntent (5 page)

That was good too.

Leaning up to kiss her mouth while his other hand wandered
down, carefully, he caressed the inside of one soft thigh and then moved north.

Under his kiss, he could feel a murmur of protest and he
lifted his head before he had gotten to the promised land.

“What?” he whispered down into her flushed face.

“I don’t…I mean I think we should slow down.”

“You do?”

“No.” And she yanked his head back down to her and opened
her thighs wider for his hand. When he slipped beneath the edge of her silken
underwear and over her light curls, she groaned under his kiss, but he didn’t
stop this time. He moved his fingers down to her pussy, knowing he would find
it wet, but exultant that he did. Rubbing her clit lightly with her own
moisture for a moment, he raised his head. “You okay?”

She nodded, her eyes still closed and those incredible
breasts beckoned him. Still fingering her, he kissed the nipple of the breast
he hadn’t properly tended to yet and she was so wet he felt confident in
kissing it a little harder. She bucked under him and he tongued her for a
moment and then sucked, still moving his fingers carefully against a now very
wet pussy.

She froze, but he didn’t withdraw his fingers, just keeping
still, and then raising his head to whisper, “Too much?”

She shook her head no, not opening her eyes, and he
continued massaging her clit, intending to thrust a finger or two firmly up her
cunt in a moment. She bucked as he set the rhythm her body was telling him she
wanted.

“Do you like that?” he asked, watching her expression—not
because he didn’t know but because he wanted to hear her say it.

She nodded.

He laughed, bending to her breasts again. “Not much of a
talker in bed, are you, Sophia?” he murmured. When he set his mouth to her
breasts this time, his cock was complaining loudly, asking to get in on the
action. The feel of her nipple against his tongue as he lapped at her prompted
him to thrust his still-trouser-encased cock so hard against her hip, she’d
probably have a bruise tomorrow.

Christ, he wanted to get inside her so badly.

But first, he wanted to get her off. To see those long
lashes flutter open finally as she came.

Then he’d rip the fucking dress off her and get down to
business.

With the movement of his fingers and her own moisture
accommodating it, he bit her rosy wet nipple lightly.

“Oh, my God.” She shuddered, coming strongly against his
fingers. To his disappointment, when he lifted his head to watch her face as
she climaxed, her eyes stayed closed. And he hadn’t even gotten a chance to get
inside her yet, even with his fingers, which were still rubbing her engorged
clit.

As she calmed, his touch became more and more gentle, and
then withdrew. He needed his hands free to open his pants.

Only then did she open those wide blue-green eyes.

“I should go,” she said immediately.

Not that he was expecting kudos or anything, but that wasn’t
exactly the feedback he’d anticipated. “Go? Now? Why?”

She sat up and in the process began to retie her top.
Clearly, he’d made some horrible tactical error in giving her an orgasm. First,
anyway.

* * * * *

“Is that you, Allie? I’m having a tough time trying to get
this train fastened back up. I just can’t reach it.”

He closed the door. “Well, I’m a little rusty on the train
front, but I’ll give it a try.”

Virginia looked over her shoulder and laughed. “Aaron!
You’re not going to be of any use here. Go get one of my sisters, please.”

“Oh, I see how it is. Married less than an hour or so and
already I’m of no use. Next thing I know you’ll be claiming you have a
headache.”

“If I ever do that, I’ll have to have my head examined. But
really, Brendan was supposed to get Allie.”

“I think he had his mind on other things. He gave me the
message to meet you up here and then he headed back to some tall, dark-haired
girl.”

“Yeah, I saw her. Who was she?”

“No idea.”

“Not an old girlfriend?”

“Of mine? Hell no. I didn’t exactly invite any of them to
the wedding. I just assumed she came with Brendan.”

“I doubt it. He has this thing about not bringing dates to
weddings.”

“Why are we talking about your brother at all?” He came up
behind her and kissed her nape, left bare by her upswept hair. “Let’s just have
a quickie.”

“On our wedding day?” she asked in apparent horror, looking
back at him over her shoulder. “Wait, that didn’t come out quite right.”

She flashed him an exasperated smile. In her defense, it
wasn’t exactly as if they hadn’t made love recently. As recently as last night
as a matter of fact. But this was their wedding day. They were married.
Something he had never thought he’d be in other than the most technical sense.
Not like this. Not like giving his—
okay, say it
—his heart so fully to
this other human being.

“Don’t you want to?” he whispered in her ear, pulling her
fully up against him, her ass in the white silk cushioning his hardening cock.

“Of course I want to,” she moaned. “I always want to with
you, as you very well know.”

“Husband,” he urged. “Call me husband.”

“Husband,” she whispered, arching back against him for a
minute, causing that flash of pleasure that always preceded sex with Virginia.
Like a faint but very nice foreshadowing of the incredible passion they would
share.

But then she pulled away. “Unfortunately, this dress is as
good as a chastity belt, I’m afraid. I couldn’t possibly take it off and put it
on again, Aaron. There are a million little hooks and bells and whistles. Our
reception would be over by then and we have guests.”

He tutted in an exaggerated way, leading her over to the
vanity against the wall. “You leave everything to me, Mrs. Winston.”

“I’m keeping my own name,” she reminded him.

“Yes, yes, yes. So bossy. Now, put your hands here.” He
positioned her without waiting for her to do so, placing her palms one on each
side of the surface, which was low enough that she had to bend over slightly.
“Hmm, very nice.” The vanity mirror reflected the movement, with the angle
causing Virginia’s very ample breasts to spill out over what standing up had
been a demure neckline. Catching her eyes in the mirror, he moved to stand
behind her, slowly and deliberately raising the hem of the elaborate dress
until it was bunched at her waist and flowing over her hips.

His hands went to her ass, fondling, and in the mirror he
saw Virginia’s eyelids start to drop.

“Keep your eyes open,” he demanded, adding, “wife.”

She obeyed with a wry twist to her lips. “I’m only letting
you order me around because this is our wedding day.”

He laughed, and then dropped his own eyes, gripping her hips
to pull her closer. “Oh, I wish you could see this picture, Virginia. Your
fine, beautiful ass stuck out for me.”

He saw her blush, incredibly, and laughed again. Running his
hands along the silk of her panties, he murmured, “Oh, we can’t have these,
though.” Slipping them down to mid-thigh bared her cheeks to him, but kept her
legs too tight together.

He ripped.

“Aaron!”

“Shhh. We have to make allowances.” He threw the panties to
the floor and nudged her legs open wider with one of his own.

“It’s a good thing you’re rich because we’re going to spend
a fortune on lingerie with the amount you’re always ripping off me.”

He grinned. “Gladly. Let a kid up from the streets have his
little luxuries.” He leaned down on impulse and kissed one rounded globe as he
slid his hand between her thighs and into her wetness. Above him he heard her
moan as he massaged her clit lightly and was sorely tempted to put his mouth to
her sweet pussy and eat her out first.

But he had promised a quickie, and there were a lot of
guests waiting for them below, so reluctantly he came upright and undid his
tuxedo pants, shoving aside his boxers to free his cock, pretty upright itself.
Virginia’s gray-blue eyes met his in the mirror as he slid his cock in, her receptive
pussy as heavenly as ever. She arched back into him, meeting his thrusts, their
eyes never leaving each other’s.

“God, I love you,” he muttered, gripping her hips harder as
the rhythm overtook him.

Her head dropped as he pounded into her, shaking the vanity,
and with a cry he felt himself come. She cried out as well and while they were
both still panting, their breathing slowing, he began to pull out, murmuring,
“I promised a quickie.”

“Wait!”

He froze.

“I love trying for a baby and all, husband, but you have to
admit it is a little messier this way and I for one have no idea how to get
semen stains off of silk.”

Damn. He kept forgetting about that. He had taken to fucking
Virginia barebacked surprisingly easily, his habit of a lifetime of donning a condom
before sex easy to drop with the woman he would spend the rest of his life
with. And the first time he had seen his semen drip down his woman’s thighs, he
had felt some bizarrely macho pride in it.

But he did admit it was messier.

He laughed. “Who thought I’d be the more romantic one on our
wedding day?” He reached for the tissue box, careful not to pull his cock out
in the process. He took a hand full of tissues and handed the box to her. When
she did the same, he could safely pull out, their respective tissues catching
any wayward semen in danger of staining her dress.

“I’m romantic! I’d just rather not box up my wedding dress
with any DNA on it commemorating our quickie.”

“Oh yeah? Well, I hope I’m going to hear something more
romantic tonight than ‘hand me the tissue box’.”

He had fastened his pants again and her skirts were demurely
back around her as she put her arms around his neck, coming up on her
tippy-toes in that way that drove him wild. “How about ‘I love you to
distraction and can’t imagine living my life without you’? Will that do?”

“It’s pretty good,” he conceded, dropping a kiss on the tip
of her nose.

“Good. Because it’s so true it scares me, Aaron.”

“It scares me too, but love means—”

“Don’t say it!” she warned, laughing. “If you do, you’ll
never be able to live it down.”

“That’s what I love about you, Virginia. You always keep
your head in a crisis.” He kissed her long and leisurely. He would do anything
for this woman. And quoting Love Story was the least of it.

When he lifted his head, he asked, “Do you want me to go get
your sister now to help you with your train?”

She pulled his head back down. “What train?”

Their guests could wait a little longer.

Chapter Three

Sophia had never come with a man. Never even faked it. Ever.
It was so, so personal. She was sure she was probably blushing right now as
Brendan watched her, first with that kind of cool competence and then with
surprise as she made her intention to go clear.

“I, ah, I just have to go,” she stammered. “I shouldn’t have
come in here.”

“But you did.”

She tied her top firmly back into place. She supposed she
should be wandering around the room right about now, looking for breaks in the
wallpaper or paintings that might have something behind them. But she couldn’t.
All she wanted to do was get out of there.

“Can’t we spend a little more time together?” He laid his
hand lightly on her thigh, over her dress even. But she shivered. “Are you sure
you want to go? As nice as that was, it could be nicer.”

She glanced down at his blatant erection. “For both of us, I
suppose you mean.”

Brendan laughed. “Ah, yeah.”

She wondered what it would be like to slip that hard penis
of his inside her. Why shouldn’t she? Why not? When he had lain with his whole
weight on top of her last night it had felt so right.

Sophia was worried she might just be the last
twenty-something virgin left standing. She wondered if he would be able to
tell. He’d probably never believe it even if she ’fessed up to it. It was hard
for her to believe it herself. She’d had numerous opportunities to, of course,
and Arthur probably thought she had one of those times. But she had never been
moved to follow through. They were just marks. And greedy, selfish ones at that
usually.

She’d never felt this kind of longing. This need to give in.
Despite it, she said, “No. I don’t think so.”

After a second, he removed his hand from her thigh and
reached for his tie with a wry smile. “Well, I won’t say I’m not disappointed.
As well as kind of confused, frankly.”

“Why? All your dates end with intercourse?”

He laughed, draping the tie around his collar, but not tying
it yet.

“What? Why are you laughing?”

“You just said it kind of stiffly, that’s all. Intercourse.
And no, not all my dates end in intercourse.” He was lying from what she could
tell.

“Just the ones you want to?”

“No. But they usually do when I’ve had kind of, ah, visceral
evidence of a girl’s responsiveness.”

His cell phone, which he had left on his dresser for the
ceremony, rang and out of force of habit he got up to pick it up. Glancing down
at the caller ID, for a second he didn’t recognize the caller. Kendon. Oh yeah,
the private investigator. He hadn’t given that guy his number. “Excuse me just
a minute,” he said to Sophia.

He answered the phone, back turned away from her, with a
muttered, “Fuck that Mandrake.” Not exactly into the phone, but the guy heard
it anyway.

“No thanks. I don’t go that way. But I have no trouble with
guys who do.”

“Mandrake’s not authorized to give out my cell.”

“Don’t worry about it. He didn’t. You don’t think I can get
a cell phone number if I want to? Not sure why you’d be paying me then.”

“Fine. What is it? I told you to deal with Mandrake on the
details.”

“I will. I just wanted to let you know I found a bug planted
in your apartment. Several of them actually. That changes things.”

After a pause, Brendan prompted, “Meaning what?”

“Meaning this probably wasn’t a random burglary. You were
targeted.”

“Why?”

“I wouldn’t know about that. Unless you want me to try to
find out.”

Brendan thought of the girl from last night. Startled, he
immediately looked at the girl rising from his bed. Targeted. He was getting
some odd vibe from this girl, and it wasn’t the simple reciprocal lust he
usually felt.

“Yeah.” He turned his back on Sophia, reluctant to even mention
her to Kendon, not that he could with her in the room anyway. He’d let Kendon
do the investigating and he’d go back to what he was good at. “Go ahead. Let me
know what you find out.”

When he hung up, Sophia was walking around the sitting room
adjoining his bedroom. A girl abruptly responding to his overtures was not
exactly unusual for him. For one thing, he was rich and had no illusions about
how that figured in to the equation. There was no reason to be any more
suspicious of this girl than any of the countless others he had hooked up with
over the years. Sure, her voice had been a little familiar, but he was probably
imagining that. Her body type, as he’d noted before, wasn’t exactly the same as
the smart-mouthed thief from last night.

He wondered if there were ways to mask that, since he knew
Sophia’s assets were a hundred percent authentic. And, by the way, fucking
incredible.

He really did a have a one-track mind. In this instance,
though, it was completely understandable. He went up behind her, slipping his
hands around her waist as she looked at his Matisse hanging on the wall.

“No, it’s not real,” he lied, not sure why. The small
Impressionist painting of a seaside was an extravagance of his and had cost him
a fortune. One of his first purchases after his parents had died, it had been
some funny comfort to him, to think of Matisse painting it over a century ago
and him enjoying it many lifetimes later. Their insurance agent had refused to
touch it when he had insisted on just hanging it in his bedroom here.

“Yes it is,” she countered.

His hands tightened around her waist, not denying it. “You
know a lot about that kind of thing? Art?”

“A little. I’m just surprised you don’t have one of
Matisse’s nudes.”

He frowned. “Sex isn’t all I think about, you know.”

She glanced at him over her shoulder. “No? What else do you
think about?”

For a second, he almost answered, her blue-green eyes
watching him. But then the impulse was gone.

“No, you’re right. That is all I think about.”

She turned back to the Matisse. “I have to go.” Her hands
were on his as they circled his waist, but weren’t pulling his away.

He buried his face in the curve of her smooth shoulder for a
moment. She smelled fresh and clean and…familiar again. Ignoring the thought,
he kissed his way up her neck. “Why? Come on. If you can’t stay up here with
me, at least we can have a dance downstairs together.” He started to sway her
subtly, feeling her fine ass against his crotch in an exceedingly pleasant way.
“Or we can have a dance right here.”

She pulled out of his arms. “I have to go. I do feel funny
about being up here with you during your sister’s wedding.”

“Why?”

“I just do.”

Since she didn’t appear to be very good at answering
questions, he didn’t bother with any more.

He had an idea. “Stay right here. I’ll be right back.”

At the very last second as he closed the door behind him, he
wondered if he should be leaving her alone with the Matisse.

* * * * *

Sam Kendon liked really rich clients. Sure, they were a
little demanding and did annoying things like claim their cell phone number was
some kind of a state secret. But they never asked how much something cost and
they never complained about paying the bill.

And they had lots of very interesting problems.

Drake came back into the room. “Do you have everything you
need, Sam, or is there something else I can get you?”

The suggestiveness of the other man’s tone was pretty much a
joke now.

“Stop flirting with me. I told you I’m straight.”

“Yeah, that’s what they all say until they’ve had a few
shots of tequila.”

“Such a cynic,” Sam commented. “And here I thought you were
holding out for true love.”

“That or a sugar daddy with a big fat wallet.”

“Like your current boss? Is that what’s going on here,
Mandrake?”

Drake laughed. “I love it when you say my name like that.”

“Really. Is Beckett’s legendary sexual appetite as varied as
your presence here suggests?”

“Jealous, lover?”

“Beckett has a very straight rep. Is that something somebody
could find out wasn’t so black and white? Because some folks might be able to
make something very lucrative out of that.”

“I love how you private dicks talk.”

“Come on. Is Beckett in the closet? Or bi? I need to know.”

“Unfortunately, no to both.”

Too bad. That would’ve proved a very convenient motive right
off the bat. “What the hell is he doing with you, then?” he muttered. “No
offense,” he added hastily.

“None taken.” Drake shrugged. “The truth is I wondered that
myself at first. But I’ve sort of come to the conclusion he’s just kind of a
nice guy.”

“How’d you even end up here? Last I heard you were in the
UK, weren’t you?”

“Yeah. My last gig was for this total bitch. She wanted to
pretend I was her butler, but really was just into…well, never mind what she
was into. Anyway, Master Beckett was at a party she was throwing and she found
me with her boyfriend, who was so not into her, by the way, and threw this
incredible hissy fit and fired me. So Beckett hired me.”

“As a butler.”

Drake laughed. “Yeah. That’s what he thought I was
apparently. I played it straight, excuse the pun, for a while, thinking just
what you were thinking, but it turns out he really did just want to give me a
job. Then I felt sort of bad about it. But since I had no other prospects, I
stayed on and do what I can to earn the ridiculously large salary he’s paying
me. Until I figure something else out of course. You know me, I like to be
useful.”

“Is Mandrake your real name?” Sam asked idly.

“Oh no. Don’t you go investigating me. I didn’t send some
girl to sit on his stomach last night. Though I know a few who wouldn’t have
minded doing it.”

No, “the butler did it” would have been too easy.

“Okay.” Sam shrugged. “I’ll do some old-fashioned leg work,
as soon as I fix this apartment up with some real security. The stuff it came
equipped with was shit.”

“Needless to say.”

“Can I have the key to the place?”

“Well, Beckett did say to give you whatever you need.
Besides, if I know you, you’d just break in if you wanted to.”

“Needless to say.” Sam smiled.

* * * * *

Just by luck, Brendan caught Aaron as he was closing Virginia’s
bedroom door behind him, straightening his tie.

“Jesus, can’t you two even wait for the wedding night?”

Aaron smiled and glanced at Brendan’s closed door and undone
tie. “You should talk.” He started to head for the stairs and Brendan grabbed
his arm.

“Wait a minute. I want to ask you something. Where are you
going on your honeymoon?”

“None of your business.”

Brendan didn’t take his new brother-in-law’s cold tone
personally, even though his track record with brother-in-laws was about
fifty-fifty by now, one good one and one homicidal maniac. As to Aaron, the guy
had beaten him to a pulp once, but it wasn’t as if he held that against him.
Now that he knew the admittedly tough executive better, he knew without a doubt
that Aaron would lay down his life for Virginia. So he had a clean slate as far
as Brendan was concerned.

But the guy was a little over-protective, which could be
annoying.

“I won’t have you calling Virginia and bothering her,
Brendan. We’re planning on two weeks of uninterrupted marital bliss and I don’t
care if BFD and Winston Enterprises both get delisted in the interim. Nobody is
bothering us.”

“Fine. Whatever. I just want to make sure you’re not going
to use the Cayman house for your marital bliss.”

Aaron glanced at Brendan’s bedroom door. “You’re so
predictable, pal.”

“Are you or aren’t you?”

“It’s all yours.”

Brendan hesitated, but he couldn’t help himself. “Did you
see the girl I was, ah, talking to, by the way?”

“Hard to miss her.”

“Was she one of yours?”

“One of my what?”

“Guests. Do you know her?”

“Not as well as you do by now, I’d guess.”

Aaron laughed at whatever expression crossed Brendan’s face.
“Maybe there’s hope for you yet.” He patted him on the shoulder. “The answer is
no. I’ve never seen her before in my life.”

Then Aaron headed downstairs, whistling.

Brendan didn’t know whether to be relieved or disappointed.
He was both, probably. This Sophia was still an unknown quantity, then, but at
least she wasn’t one of Aaron Winston’s legions of former girlfriends.

When he got back into his bedroom suite, Sophia was by the
window looking down to the drive. And the Matisse, happily, was still on the
wall.

He sprung his inspiration on her. “I have a great idea. Why
don’t you come with me to the Caymans?”

She turned around, noticeably lacking the big smile or giddy
clapping that an offer to accompany him to some vacation spot usually
engendered from a girl. Especially a girl he’d just given an orgasm to.

“What’s in the Caymans?”

“A house we own. A private little beach. Sun. Sand.” He
leered at her, comically. “Me.”

She turned back to the window. “I don’t know if that’s a
good idea.”

As a life-long bachelor, he was familiar with the Cosmo-girl
tactic of playing hard to get, and usually it just annoyed him. It never, ever
worked on him.

So normally he would not be inclined to beg some hot girl to
run off with him to his beach house because she was so, er, hot. But this
Sophia was a mystery. If she had anything to do with last night—which was a
pretty ridiculous thought after all—he could dig into it. If she didn’t, he
could dig into her.

And she was exceedingly hot.

So he tried again. “I’d really love to spend some time with
you, Sophia. I know you think we went a little fast here and I’m sorry. I’d
like the chance to have some more relaxing time with you. To get to know you. I
don’t think being holed up in my room like teenagers during my sister’s wedding
is very conducive to getting to know each other.”