The Seduction of Kinley Foster (What Happens in Vegas) (9 page)

He hadn’t spanked her hard. Really just a few light swats. But making her glorious ass rosy while she squirmed did something to him. He hated her outfit. Actually, he loved it. But he hated how every cock in the club jumped to attention the moment she strutted through the doors like she owned the world. He hated that other men, besides him, wanted her to give them a view worthy of Upskirt Galleries. Every time she crossed and uncrossed her legs, all eyes were on her crotch. Hoping for a pussy shot. Jesus.

He hated that he wanted a reason to spank her again. Not in the same way he’d spanked other women he’d dated who were into the lifestyle—in a different way. He wanted to lay claim to her by spanking her ass. Not just turn her on.

Ian didn’t want to want her. He didn’t want to want anyone. He liked being in control of his life.

His lack of control tonight made him angry at her for having that kind of power over him—and furious with himself for allowing it. His plan had been simple. Give her a challenge. Let her fail miserably. Guide her into writing romances that were sweet.

Why sweet?

He didn’t have a clue. Why in the hell did he care if she wrote hot or sweet romance?

Was it possible he was jealous of the men she would write about? Jealous that she would be having hot book sex with them in stories where kinky would be the norm? Was it possible he didn’t want to share her with fictional heroes?

Of course not.

And yet the image of her ass taunted him. Even as the partying went on downstairs, and the shower surged to life in the en suite, Ian realized he was at a crossroad in his life.

He wanted Kinley Foster. He wanted to fuck her tonight.

She deserved so much better than him. She deserved a guy who wouldn’t eventually get tired of her and move on. That’s what he did. That’s who he was. The women he dated knew the score.

For all her big talk, Kinley wasn’t the type of woman who could handle that type of relationship. Of that, he was sure.

Chapter Eleven

Kinley stood under the showerhead and let the water beat down on her. Her bottom stung from Ian’s hand, and when she’d glanced in the mirror, she could see his palm print. She was appalled that he would treat her that way.

Okay, that was a lie. She was appalled that she wasn’t appalled. Appalled at herself for being turned on by the action. What was wrong with her? Being turned on by a man who didn’t want her enough to forget who she was?

Her brother’s fiancée had been woman enough to make him forget who she was. Why wasn’t she?

She stepped out of the shower. Slipped on an oversize nightshirt.

She discovered the bedroom empty. “
Good.
” She climbed into the bed that had been turned down. Had Ian turned it down? Or did the maid do it?

The door to the bedroom opened. “I’m going downstairs to meet with an editor. Don’t wait up on me,” he said, his voice back to normal.

“Don’t flatter yourself.” She stared straight ahead. At the wall. He hadn’t even said he was sorry for not wanting her enough.

She could feel his eyes on her.

When he made no move to leave, or say anything else, she glanced at him. Why wasn’t he leaving?

“I’m sorry,” he said in a cautious voice.

She caught her breath. Damn him. Did he read her mind? It was easier to keep her emotions at bay if he was an ass. She looked away.

After several more seconds, she heard the click of the bedroom door. “Ass, ass, ass.”

She sat staring around the quiet suite. Should she watch TV? Get dressed and try her hand at blackjack again? She thought about writing, but with her thoughts so jumbled she doubted she’d be able to string together a sentence, and she really didn’t want to sit and stare at a blank screen. It was early—by Vegas standards, anyway. Maybe she could go downstairs to see if there were any authors or interesting people in the lounge. Under no circumstances would she sit in this room and think about Ian. Nuh-uh. No way.

She grabbed her oversize purse off the floor to rummage for a comb. If she stuck to minimal makeup, she could be out the door in twenty. She unzipped her purse and discovered the boxes that held the items she’d bought from Charlie.

Curiosity took her mind off of Ian. Well, mostly.

She glanced at the front door, to make sure he was gone—it would be just like him to lurk in the hallway—then she dumped the boxes onto the bed.

She didn’t need him. She had all of this…stuff.

She picked up the first box and opened it.

A We-Vibe 4. The product was small; it fit in the palm of her hand. It was purple and shaped like a U. A remote control came with it. The product was made to be inserted so that one side of the U shape touched her G-spot and the other her clitoris. The clitoris side vibrated. It had different options to manipulate the speed and strength of the vibrations.

She opened the next box—a silicone sleeve with a vagina opening on one end. A product to be used on a man. One of the mystery prizes she’d won. She poked her finger inside and found it slippery. A man would feel like his cock was pushing into a woman. A man could use it on his own, or a woman could use it to help give him a hand job or a blowjob. That’s what the little card inside the box said about the product.
Wow
. Okay.

The next item was a long and skinny stick thingy. The rounded end tilted upward and was the size of a dime. That end vibrated. It was meant to be slipped into a woman to reach her g-spot, where the vibrating head would do the rest of the work.

The final item was a vibrator that looked like a tube of lipstick.

Kinley wanted to lay back and try them all. Of course she wouldn’
t. Not in Ian
’s hotel room. He could come back any moment and catch her with her panties down around her ankles. Um, literally.

She stuffed everything back in her purse and pulled out her comb.

She should stick with her plan. Do her hair, get dressed. Leave the room for a while. She was too wound up to sleep. Too depressed to write. But if she went downstairs, she’d probably run into Ian. “Ugh.”

She glanced at her boxes of sex toys peeking out of the top of her purse. A quick orgasm would help her relax.

She glanced at the clock. He’d be gone at least an hour. She could gift herself with thirty minutes.

She stood up and padded to the door to make sure Ian wasn’t there. He wasn’t. The lights were off. She slipped off her panties—started to bring them back to bed with her—but out of orneriness, hung them on the doorknob outside the bedroom.

She crawled back into bed, lying on the cool sheets. She slipped her headphones on and turned on her favorite music to write love scenes to. Then she picked up the We-Vibe 4.

Reclining on the pillows, she closed her eyes. She tried to call up her normal go-to fantasy. But his face wasn’t forming. Instead it was Ian’s face she saw. His sexy blue eyes. His hand slapping her bare bottom.

She squirmed. Turned on the vibrator with the remote.

The music played. She slipped the vibrator in.

The steady tap, tap, tap rhythm of the vibrator against her clitoris caused her to squirm. She adjusted it so the vibrator was directly on her happy spot. Then, using the remote, she flipped through the different speeds and intensity.

Her breath caught in her throat when she found a speed that suited her. She laid the remote down and kneaded her breast with one hand while gripping the sheets with her other.

“Ian. Oh God, that feels so great,” she whispered into the darkness. She imagined Ian there with her. Imagined him telling her she was being naughty and would have to be punished. She groaned.

“I’ll be good, I promise,” she whispered. “Don’t spank me.”

She raised her hips off the bed. The intense buildup edged her toward the cliff, where she would step off and tumble into a mind-numbing oblivion of sexual satisfaction.

“I’ve been very, very naughty.”

She let her legs fall open. “Are you going to spank me?” She imagined Ian’s palm landing on her ass. “You should spank me harder. I’ve been so…so…wicked.” She wiggled, cried out, gasped as her imagination took her down the path.

“Stop. Ian. Please. I promise I won’t—”

The weight of the bed dipped.

Kinley stilled. A fluttery sensation swept through her. She brought her knees back together.

She inhaled deeply and smelled a springtime thunderstorm. Did her imagination have the ability to conjure up scents? Or was Ian watching her masturbate?

God, this was her worst nightmare/best fantasy rolled into one.

It was only her imagination, her nervousness that would make her think he’d come back. She took a deep breath and focused on the sensations. Only moment’s ago, she’d been so close… Her legs parted slightly. She wiggled her hips to get the vibrator just right.

Did watching her turn him on? Would he join her? Would he think she was being very, very naughty? Would he… She squirmed. Her breathing quickened.

Who was she kidding? He was in the room with her. She could feel his presence. And she liked it.

She reached for the cord of her earbuds and muted the music. “You can watch, but you can’
t touch.
” She didn’t open her eyes. Her voice sounded breathy.

She heard his harsh inhale.

The speed of the vibrations slowed. Ian had the remote.

She groaned. Shook her head from side to side. “Faster. I need faster.”

She felt the warmth of his hand on her cheek. He slid it softly across and removed her ear buds.

“Open your eyes.” He spoke in a tone filled with awe and desire.

She shook her head. She liked the fantasy. If she looked into his eyes, she’d have to remember. Remember things she didn’t want to remember. Feel emotions she didn’t want to feel.

“Open them, or I’m going to spank you.” His voice rang with command. Total male dominance. A tone she should rebel against—yet didn’t.

She couldn’t because she was torn between wanting to tell him never to touch her again and wanting his hands all over her body—in every possible way. Her carnal desires won the battle of wills. “Have I been naughty?”

He didn’t respond.

Slowly she opened her eyes. It took a moment for them to adjust to the darkness. When they did, she saw him sitting on the bed, naked, his cock in one hand, her panties in the other.

“This is what you do to me,” he said, stroking his member—his very, very large member—with her abandoned panties.

“Oh my.” Her gaze tilted up
to meet
his.

Slowly and seductively, his gaze travelled down her body. “You’ve been a very bad girl.”

She removed the vibrator. A dizzying current raced through her. She stroked herself with shaky fingers. “This is what you do to me.” She closed her eyes and stroked harder. Her hips bucked as the orgasm she wanted so badly teased her with its proximity but wouldn’
t happen.

The weight on the bed shifted again.

Ian was above her. His eyes were heavy with desire. “You’re the sexiest woman I’ve ever known.”

Kinley resisted an urge to cover her size ten curves with her hands. Of course, he was lying, but it was a beautiful lie. “I doubt that.”

His mouth came down on hers. “Trust me on this.” He groaned the words against her mouth with such rawness she couldn’t help but believe him. Her tongue came out to lick her lips.

He took this as an invitation and his tongue thrust in her mouth
, t
aking far more from her than any man ever had.

…

Ian couldn’t get enough of her. He wanted to learn all of her curves and tastes. When he teased the corners of her lips, she gasped in pleasure. He traced her lips again and again. The satisfaction of giving her bliss was a heady experience. Every woman that had come before Kin now seemed ordinary. A way to pass the years until she grew up and could be his…Or at least his for tonight.

Then she was kissing him back, nipping at his bottom lip, and he forgot to think.

He held her arms above her head with one hand so he could run kisses from her temple, over her scar, across her cheek, and along the edge of her perfect jaw.

She moaned and struggled against the hand holding her.

He ran his tongue down the elegant line of her neck.

Her back arched, pressing her nipples against his chest, enticing him to hurry.

He’d waited ten years for this moment. There was no way he was going to do anything but take his time. He dipped and stroked the hollow of her collarbone with his tongue, drowning in the little noises of pleasure she made.

“Leave your hands above your head.” He released her hands and moved down so his lusting mouth could freely roam over the swell of her beautiful breasts. They were full and peach and begging for his attention. They were perfect. Not too large and not too small. The size a man covets.

A soft hiss coming from Kinley encouraged him to continue with his exploration.

He sucked one taut peak between his lips and bit before laving it with his tongue. He felt her shudder, so he moved to the other to do the same, enjoying her warm, soft flesh as he worried it with his tongue and teeth.

She trembled. The tiny sounds escaping her grew louder.

Ian had imagined this moment many times. Imagined the different ways in which he would claim her for the first time. Slow sex on a beach after he playfully removed that tiny red bikini of hers. Fast sex in a public setting after they’d accidentally bumped into each other in a restaurant and realized they couldn’t wait any longer. Rough sex up against a wall, after she’d admitted she’d been wrong to hold him at arm’s length for so many years.

But in his fantasies, he’d always been in control. He’d never imagined that when the moment came, he’d feel such an urgency, such a timeworn need to brand her as his.

But when he walked into the bedroom tonight and saw her, saw what she was doing, he’d lost it.

All of his plans evaporated in the face of his need to claim her.

He slowly slid his hand lower. Down past her ribs to grip the curve of her hip. His erection grew even larger as he slid his hand between her thighs.

She surprised him when she squeezed her legs together, capturing his hand. Was she having second thoughts?

He gently opened her legs. “Don’
t stop me,
” he murmured. “I just want to touch you.” The shakiness in his voice further proof of how off-balance with need he was. “You’re so hot.”

“Not…stopping you.” She bowed her back and opened her legs.

He slid a finger and then two inside. “
And wet.
”

She whimpered and lifted her hips off the bed.

He smiled, moved lower, and positioned himself between her legs.

She stilled. “What are you doing?”

“Let me taste you.” This was his ultimate fantasy. The one that kept him awake at night. The one he’d been clinging to for years, in the hope someday it might come true.

“Don’t you just want to come up here?” she asked hesitantly.

“Oh, I’m exactly where I want to be at the moment, babe.”

Her hands came down and tangled in his hair. Not above her head where he’d told her to keep them. Kinley Foster never had been a rule follower. At the moment, he could care less.

She mumbled something incoherent. He thought he picked out the word
okay
.

Was he the first guy to go down on her? What kind of idiot lovers had she been with? No wonder she couldn’t write sex.

Yet the thought that he was the first to teach her about oral sex pleased him intensely.

A desire to tell her that, and to tell her he was about to live out one of his fantasies shuddered through him. But speaking took time, and he was anxious for the fantasy. He touched her with his tongue in one long, slow,
upward stroke.

“Oh…oh…OH.”

Her reaction impaled him with hunger. He licked her again.