Authors: Tina Donahue
Book 4 in the Appointment with
At an erotic auction, she’s his to
bid on. To take. To command.
The night’s sultry, filled with
carnal promise as Tessa participates in an agency event to raise money for
charity. She’s chained and bared—as women were once displayed for a sultan’s
harem—offered to the wealthy and powerful men.
Among them is Logan. To him, Tessa
is so different from his late wife, the seemingly perfect female who cruelly
stole his hope and future. Wanting only to forget and have a good time, he wins
Tessa, demanding she be his in every way possible, engaging in all wanton acts,
though not only for an evening…for seven sensuous days at his secluded estate.
A provocative proposal with such a
dangerously virile man.
A week that changes everything,
with Tessa’s exquisite vulnerability and Logan’s suddenly unquenchable desire
more than either bargained for.
contemporary erotic romance
To talented authors Kayelle Allen and Kathy Kulig, who
helped me so much with Triberr. Ladies, you rock!
When I began writing erotic romance, I wanted to brand my
stories appropriately so readers would know the kind of tales I pen. Not only
are they deliciously steamy, but they also touch upon the hearts and souls of
my characters. After a lot of thought, I chose “Heat with Heart” to describe my
romances. Like Tessa, my heroine, I feel there’s a lot more to sex than the
obvious physical component. The emotional connection between two people who are
simply meant for each other is what’s truly erotic, enriching the sex. I hope
Seven Sensuous Days.
I loved writing Tessa and Logan’s tale.
Tessa James was not an exhibitionist.
Well, not usually.
Tonight was different, and all for a good cause.
Tessa held her hands behind her back, pushing her chest out,
which accentuated her breasts. Her nipples were a delicate pink, puckered and
erect despite the balmy night air. She cleared her throat. The ensuing sound
seemed too loud despite the exotic music and other noise. It poured past the
silk panels that hid her from the male audience…the man who might purchase her
at this evening’s auction.
“I’ll be through in a sec, so don’t move,” Felicity
She ran her forefinger around Tessa’s left nipple, rouging
it. Felicity’s touch was hardly sexual, yet it still aroused, reminding Tessa
of how a master would behave, brushing his fingertips over her breasts, then
down her body as he sought her cleft, stroking her clit to excite and make her
wet in preparation for his thickened cock.
She suppressed a shiver of desire. Was this what concubines
experienced within a harem in times past? Their bodies meticulously prepared to
thrill their masters? The women’s carnal hunger building as they waited to see
which one of them he would select to share his bed?
Of course, the ruler had to have purchased the women first,
watching as the slave trader disrobed them, allowing everyone in the crowd to
savor their vulnerable nudity. Shackled, the females submitted, their gazes
darting from man to man…their thoughts racing about the shameless demands soon
to be made of them as the bids rang out.
Somewhat like tonight.
Decorators had transformed the pool area of this Maryland
estate into a fair representation of a sultan’s palace. In addition to the
fountains and numerous silk hangings in plum, olive, and gold, they’d brought
in potted palms. Those graceful fronds fluttered in the mild breeze perfumed
with the sweet fragrance of countless flowers. Torches provided a provocative
and sensuous glow. Strewn between the pool furniture, where tonight’s audience
sat, were brocaded pillows in varying shades of purple and carmine. The color
of passion. A reminder of a male’s needs and a woman’s willing surrender.
Felicity rouged Tessa’s right nipple, causing it to pucker
even more. The makeup’s color was quite a bit lighter than Tessa’s lipstick and
nail polish. The dark-red shades matched the navel jewelry she wore, a delicate
cascade of tear-shaped garnets that caught the available light and drizzled it
over the curve of her belly.
Her body resembled the harem women’s of old whose lush
figures drove men wild, which played into this evening’s theme.
A good thing…maybe.
Full-figured, Tessa had battled long and hard to accept her
curves, having to rise above the bullying in school, which had been pure
torture. Adulthood was better, except that some men men wanted a woman built
like a Barbie doll. Ludicrous, yes. However, it still hurt when they ignored
her. No matter how many diets she went on, she’d never be Madison Avenue’s
notion of the ideal female, which some of these guys were certainly expecting
Who would choose her? What amount of time would he want? How
many clients were even left?
The music swelled, its erotic notes bearing the sensuality
of Arabian nights. A spate of applause followed. The current bidding over, an
evening or full day won by one very pleased man. Soon it would be her turn to
take center stage, stripped and chained.
Tessa sucked her bottom lip.
Felicity stepped back and regarded Tessa’s mound.
She’d trimmed her delicate curls close so they were no more
than a faint smudge on her creamy skin, revealing her rosy vaginal lips.
“Don’t move,” Felicity ordered again.
Tessa straightened considerably at the young
woman applying the waterproof color to her labia. Like her, Felicity worked for
the agency, though that was where their similarities ended.
Felicity was tall and willowy, except for her ample boobs.
Her tawny complexion complemented her exceedingly sultry features. Whereas she
was the poster girl for exotic, Tessa knew she was more the farmer’s daughter
type. Pretty and wholesome.
Okay, maybe not so wholesome when it came to bed play, but
definitely not in Felicity’s league. That girl was drop-dead gorgeous. Men fell
to their knees with a mere toss of Felicity’s long chestnut hair.
A short time before, Tessa had styled it for her. Apparently
determined to return the favor, Felicity continued to run the body makeup over
Air hissed through her teeth. “Stop,” she breathed. “You’re
making me wet.”
Felicity snickered. Leaning close, she whispered, “All the
better for the dude who wins you.”
Maybe. “Who’s left?”
They moved to the far right and peeked through a gap in the
delicate panels. The torches’ bobbing lights ate into the darkness, producing
soft shadows. Swaying palm leaves and spray from numerous fountains provided a
sensual scene enhanced by those ladies who’d already been auctioned. Some were
chained to the columns next to their masters’ tables, arms above their heads,
bodies flagrantly displayed, their skin moist with the heavy humidity. Others
sat on plump pillows at their lords’ feet, using fans of iridescent peacock feathers
to further stir the warmed air. Every lady conversed with the man who’d won
her, that conversation producing smiles and gentle laughter, seemingly innocent
except for all that naked flesh.
“Quite a few,” Felicity murmured, answering Tessa’s
She regarded the clients. Most had dressed casually in
lightweight jackets and shirts opened at the collar, while the rest had on
business wear—dark suits, white shirts, brightly colored silk ties—as though
they’d just left important meetings.
All of them were breathtakingly wealthy. There was no other
way they could have afforded this event and the evening or full day they’d bid
on and won. A few of the men appeared in their thirties, the rest closer to
middle age. They smoked cigars and sipped drinks, their attention drifting from
the lovely women surrounding them to Ronnie who stood at the podium, conducting
“Are you ready to continue?” Ronnie purred, her throaty
voice filled with promise. “Or do you need a moment to calm down?”
The clients chuckled and applauded, indicating their desire
Smiling, Ronnie ran her fingers over her signature string of
pearls, jewelry she was never without. In her early sixties, she was nearly as
beautiful as the call girl she’d once been, building her agency from nothing,
with Washington DC’s rich and powerful her most frequent clients.
The moist summer breeze ruffled her dark hair, streaked now
with a bit of silver. To the casual observer, Ronnie looked vibrant, healthy.
Only those close to her knew the battle she’d waged and won against breast
cancer. One of the reasons for tonight’s auction.
All of the proceeds, except for what the escorts earned,
would go to cancer research and to the scholarship funds Ronnie had established
for young women. To help them succeed so they didn’t have to make it on their
own, clawing their way out of poverty as she had.
“Gentlemen,” she cooed into the microphone, “I give you…”
Tessa didn’t hear the rest as her attention stalled on a
table near the back. The man sat in the muted shadows, the torch closest to him
having gone out. From what Tessa could see he was tall, broad-shouldered, his
form powerful and impressive.
He turned his face toward someone on the left who’d just bid
ten thousand dollars. Tessa didn’t bother to look at the guy who’d offered so
much money. She regarded this man’s strong profile. His firm jaw told her he
was young, possibly early to mid-thirties.
She elbowed Felicity and pointed at the table. “Who’s that?”
Felicity craned her neck and squinted for a better look.
Having been with the agency far longer than Tessa, she knew many of its
“I can’t see him well enough to—wait.” Felicity paused, then
breathed, “Oh wow.”
“Oh wow, what?” Was he a film star? A bad-boy rocker? Tessa’s
pulse ticked up several notches. Even though he’d never choose her, being so
close to someone the world adored was exciting.
“I think that’s Logan Kincaid,” Felicity said.
Tessa frowned. She thought back to the entertainment news
she’d read recently, but the name still meant zip. “Was he one of your clients?”
One Felicity had secretly fallen for, which had generated that ‘wow’?
“No,” the young woman answered. “As far as I know, he hasn’t
been to our agency before. Of course, I haven’t met everyone who works there.
He could have hooked up with one of the other girls who aren’t here tonight.”
“Then how do you know him?”
Felicity stopped straining to see and rubbed the side of her
neck as though she’d pulled a muscle in it. “I read the papers, watch the news,
just like you always do.”
That Tessa did. She was a news and information junkie. All
locales—local, national, world. Whatever subject—politics, health, technology,
finance, even sports. She enjoyed knowledge and devoured it all. Except, it
seemed, for the stories about this man. He’d been in the news? When? Tessa
shook her head. “I don’t remember any stories about a Logan Kincaid.”
“Happened about a year ago, maybe a little more than that. I
can’t recall. Really awful. You were living in the District then.”
Tessa had been and still was. However, she hadn’t been with
the agency at that time. She’d been associated with it in a peripheral way.
Thinking back, she tried to remember something really awful that had happened
in the news. With so many tragedies occurring at lightning speed, it wasn’t
easy to isolate one incident. She kept repeating his name in her mind, hoping
to spark a—
Her thoughts stalled, the pieces falling together all at
once. “The fire,” she said. “The one who—”
“Yep,” Felicity interrupted. “He’s the one.”
“My god, I read that the neighbors tried to stop him and
then the firefighters finally had to hold him back that night. Was he hurt
“I don’t remember.”
“The poor man.” Tessa regarded him again, sympathy welling
in her. If that was really Logan Kincaid, he’d been through a hell no one
should know. Was that why he was here tonight? Wanting nothing more than sexual
relief, a woman to hold and comfort him, rather than the complication of a
relationship that could turn so horribly wrong?
If so, Tessa couldn’t blame him, just as she hoped no one
would judge her. She wasn’t doing this solely for the money, though that was a
big consideration. Loneliness, the thrill of having a man hunger for
her—because he truly found her desirable—had a hand in it too, along with
meeting his need for a connection that went beyond mere physical contact.
Early on, Tessa had learned the truth about her clients, all
titans of industry or powerful Washington insiders who put on an invulnerable
act to the world. Deep down, they were imperfect men filled with uncertainty,
the same as everyone else. They seemed relieved to be able to tell her of their
doubts, their fears. At times, she knew they enjoyed that far more than their
bed play. With her, unlike with the public and those closest to them, they
could be truly real.
Over time, many of them had become her friends. Tessa wasn’t
certain what all the other ladies did…if they kept their encounters impersonal
and all about carnal pleasure, praising the men endlessly and not meaning a
word of it. To her, it was so much simpler and far more rewarding to be with a
man she’d grown to like, one whose armor she’d helped shed.
Felicity stepped away from the panels, pulling Tessa with
her. Before Tessa could protest, Felicity murmured, “It’s your turn next.”
Tessa stared in the direction of the stage. Being alone with
a man she’d talked with, a guy who was already on his way to liking and
accepting her for who she was, which wasn’t perfect, was one thing. Fantasizing
about how it might have been to be auctioned off for a sultan’s harem was
another. However, standing alone on a stage, nude and vulnerable to criticism
or indifference from a bunch of strangers, was something else entirely. She’d
hoped to see at least one of her regulars here, but hadn’t.
Her wanton musings from earlier faded beneath the coming
reality, which brought Tessa to another matter. A truly depressing thought. “When
I’m out there, what if there aren’t any bids?”
What if no one wanted her enough to pay any price, no matter
how small, which all of these men could easily afford?
Aw please, not that.
This was for a good cause, the slave auction scenario all
make believe. No escort would have to do anything she didn’t want to do or was
ever in any danger from an agency client. Ronnie screened the men too well.
Still, Tessa figured no one had thought to ask if they’d reject any of the
ladies during this auction. Even though the agency catered to all tastes, with
some of the men preferring her type—curvy or Rubenesque depending upon who you
talked to—what if no one like that was in this audience? “Has that ever
happened before…not getting even one bid?”
“Quit worrying, you look great.”
Tessa looked as she always did, nowhere near slender enough
for most guys, and hid her doubt with a joke. “Yeah, I know. But will Ronnie
allow me to bid on myself?”
Felicity gave her a fierce hug, then drenched her with Ralph
Lauren’s Romance, Tessa’s preferred fragrance.
“You’re beautiful,” Felicity said while Tessa was still
batting at the perfumed mist and clearing her throat from the fumes. “Don’t
ever forget that. When you’re out there, don’t worry about the bid.”
“How am I supposed to do that if there aren’t any?”
Felicity sighed as though she didn’t know what to say, then