Enraptured

Mel
Teshco

Kate grew up knowing how badly bullying could batter
self-esteem. That was why she never imagined herself as beautiful and
sophisticated Brandy, high-class call girl.

She loves sex, loves her job that gives her self-assurance
and financial security. Being on the arms and in the beds of the most
influential and powerful men in Australia doesn’t hurt either.

When billionaire philanthropist Blaine starts taking more
than a professional interest in her—both in and out of bed-- Kate has to decide
whether to run, or stay and risk it all for the man she not only lusts after,
but loves.

A
Romantica®
contemporary erotic romance
from Ellora’s Cave

Brandy Alexander, also known as Kate Matthews in her
non-fantasy life, stepped out of the chauffeured town car that had collected
her. Checking her upswept hair was still in order, she smoothed a hand down her
tiny, crimson-leather dress.

Perfect.

Clutch bag firmly in hand, which carried the essential tools
of her trade—condoms, lipstick, hairpins and a cell phone—she waited until the
car had slid away into the night. When its tail lights disappeared around a
bend, she stepped toward the townhouse with its familiar red front door.

The heels of her thigh-high boots clacked on the granite
walkway that led to where her regular client waited. She licked her lips.
Blaine Leo Waymann, thirty-six years young and already a billionaire
businessman and philanthropist. Not to mention voted Australia’s Bachelor of
the Year three years running by
Cleo
magazine readers.

He could have any woman he wanted. Yet he’d rung the agency
and asked for her.

A smile spread over her face, melting the distant echo of
insecurities clean away. This was why she loved her work. This was why she
couldn’t give it up any time soon. She would never underrate the value of being
wanted, even if it was only for one night.

Her breath puffed in the chill night air, but she barely
felt the cold. Excitement warmed her blood until she wondered if she was
flushed all over.

Hot and past ready to be fucked.

Dozens of tiny, discreet garden lights chased away the
shadows. Brandy smiled. She could probably walk this too-familiar path
blindfolded.

She turned the doorknob, aware it wouldn’t be bolted.

She was expected.

Shutting the door behind her before routinely flicking its
lock, she turned back to take in the expansive entryway. Marble floors and
stark-white spaciousness.

Blaine requested she always wear red and she often wondered
if she was his one smoldering flame in an otherwise clean-cut and conventional
existence. He was a generous and considerate lover, his skill between the
sheets indisputable.

He looked after those in his care. She had no doubt it was
for his guests’ safety that he had a bodyguard or two stationed around the
perimeter of his Sydney home. The same residence that, until recently, he’d
occupied only sporadically.

He’d been a regular client, but his appointments with her
had steadily increased. His fixation with her was becoming a habit. But she
knew his type. He wanted what he couldn’t have. He’d offer her the moon and if
she accepted the game would pall and his obsession would wane.

Her chin tilted as she squared her shoulders. She wasn’t in
the business of having men lose interest in her.

She sashayed into the living room with its vaulted ceiling
and plush cream carpet. Faint notes of Vivaldi echoed through surround-sound
speakers, making her entrance somehow even more surreal than usual.

Blaine had eclectic taste, and she never really knew what to
expect. Their every encounter had her gut coiled as if it was a spring and her
body fueled with hot anticipation.

Going by tonight’s music, it seemed his mood was deep,
passionate. Intense.

The loud clink of ice drew her toward the adjacent room he
used for entertaining. But her attention wasn’t on the bar and its upside-down
bottles, or the dancing flames behind a glass dome fireplace.

She had eyes only for Blaine.

He’d recently had a shower, a white towel slung low on his
hips and his dark hair almost inky-black with moisture. With his back to her,
this once she could afford to drink him in, appraise his athletic, toned body
and his olive skin, thanks to some distant Spanish heritage.

She swallowed hard as he pivoted to face her. His smile was
a lazy quirk of his lips, vivid contrast to the darkly sinful glint in his
brilliant gold-brown stare. He stepped toward her, dwarfing her even in her
ludicrously high heels. Proffering a squat glass with ice and something
alcoholic, he drawled, “Beautiful as always.”

The compliment never failed to charm, her past never quite
forgotten.

She dropped her bag onto the nearest sofa before accepting
the drink. Arching a brow, she retorted boldly, “Fuckable as always.”

His husky laugh sent shivers all the way to her toes. She
tipped back her drink and swallowed it in one hit. She sighed, relishing the
slow whiskey burn that only accentuated the intense chemistry between them. She
raised her glass that clinked with nothing but ice. “No brandy tonight?” He
always had one ready for her in honor of her namesake.

“Later,” he promised. He nodded toward her empty glass and
asked, “Would you care for another?”

She arched a brow and said sweetly, “If I didn’t know any
better I’d think you were trying to take advantage of me.”

His eyes gleaming, he spread his arms out as if in
supplication, his drink untouched in one hand. “Would you prefer to take
advantage of me?”

With a smile she stepped forward, their bodies all but
touching when she handed him her glass. She slid an arm around his nape,  and her
other hand slipped beneath his towel. His breath hissed as she skated one long
nail along the thickening, silky ridge of his shaft before she cupped the heavy
weight of his balls in her palm. “Like this?” she asked.

His stare held hers, hot and assessing. “I’m not
complaining.”

She nodded in the direction of their glasses. “How long do
you think you can hold those?”

He raised his arms to shoulder level, the ice clinking in his
untouched drink. “As long as needed.” His eyes burned. “I’m up for the
challenge.”

She released his cock, wondering if her smile had made it to
her eyes. She took these challenges seriously, just the same as he did. But it
was even more arousing knowing that Blaine was used to being the one in
control. She looked up and held his stare as she reached up and dipped a finger
into his untouched whiskey. “Good.”

Her hand returned between his thighs and she caressed the
head of his hard cock with a wet finger, smearing whiskey into his slit. It had
to burn, but the pain evidently balanced precariously with pleasure when he
closed his eyes for a moment on a barely audible groan.

When his silky long lashes flicked back open, his stare
alight with desire, she felt a moment of empowerment knowing he was all but
constrained by the glasses in his hands.

“You’ll pay for that,” he whispered throatily, his eyes
glinting, “my god you’ll pay.”

She shivered. The scenario was akin to releasing the locks
to a tiger’s cage and standing back to wait for the inevitable. But then Blaine
could never be accused of being boring, especially not in the bedroom. Her
hands moved to his ass cheeks, her long nails digging deep enough to hurt when
she asked silkily, “Is that a threat or a promise?”

The glasses wavered just a little in his grip. She could
have purred with delight.

“It’s whatever you want it to be,” he drawled, “times ten.”

Her breath hitched. Triumph mingled with trepidation. His
promised retribution just might be the icing on the cake, if it wasn’t for repressed
self-doubts suddenly rearing their head. Even now, many years after the
bullying and teasing from her peers, she had to remind herself she was
beautiful and desirable. It took the admiration and high regard of men like
Blaine to remind her without so many words that she was no longer the insecure
girl she’d once been.

Her hands moved upward and flattened onto his chest. She
stood on tiptoe, her mouth pressing over his before she touched the seam of his
lips with her tongue. His growl morphed into a groan when she pushed her tongue
into his mouth and rocked against him, emulating the act he paid top dollar for
her to carry out.

God she loved the taste of him. Hot spices and contrary
overtones of cool mint. But she needed to slow things down, draw out the
moment. She pulled back and licked her lower lip. His eyes narrowed, following
the movement.

Dipping her finger back into the glass of whiskey, she
swirled a wet trail over one of his nipples and then the other. He sucked in a
breath when she leaned forward and licked each trail dry. Faint notes of soap
and warm, spiced male teased her nostrils as his already hard nipples became
stiff little peaks, his chest rising and falling sharply beneath her hands.

His nipples were his erogenous zone. But with their every
encounter she varied the seduction, mixed it up to make sure her next visit
wouldn’t be her last.

As a high-class call girl, this night alone would secure her
more money than what most people would earn in a handful of months. Except the
money had become only a small incentive to keep her in the business. She could
afford now to be choosy, her clients predominantly a select half dozen.

She’d discovered a love for sex later in life than most
girls, but unlike many of her “friends” she’d gotten off on the empowerment
that came with fucking a man senseless. The most influential of men had become
completely undone by the thrill of paid sexual release while she…she had been
brought to life, a goddess who’d found her calling.

She looked up, holding Blaine’s stare as she suckled one of
his nipples. A muscle in his jaw throbbed, undoubtedly in sync to the throbbing
of his cock.

Only one way to find out.

Working her way downward, she pressed kisses over his
delicious, silken warm skin, the hard lines of his torso and abs. Regular
boxing, jujitsu and aikido bouts apparently kept him honed and strong. And she
could certainly attest to his bedroom prowess and stamina.

Unlike her other clients, Blaine had been open about his
life. With each encounter she’d learned a bit more about him. Little things
that drew a bigger picture about him, the man.

He was partial to cats, though he had no time in his life
right then to own one. Brussels sprouts and liver were never on his menu, while
old-fashioned pot roast and roast vegetables were regular fare. And sex. He
loved sex. Lots of it. But she had a strong feeling he’d be faithful once he
was attached. Whoever was lucky enough to keep his bed warm was one lucky woman
indeed.

She ignored the unwelcome flash of envy by pushing further
thought aside and concentrating on her client.

She stopped at his clenched belly to dip a tongue into his
navel then swirl around its rim. His breath rushed out. But it wasn’t until she
kneeled, untied the knotted towel at his hips before taking his steel-hard cock
into her mouth, that his eyes slid closed and his head rocked back.

“Sweet Jesus,” he groaned, “I don’t pay you nearly enough.”

They both knew he could get it for free anytime he wanted,
but who was she to argue the point?

The head of his cock hit the back of her throat before she
slowly retreated, suckling hard as inch by long inch his shaft withdrew. She
swirled her tongue on the head of his cock, lapping up the sticky, salty
essence of his pre-cum before his hips drove forward. With his cock pushed into
the back of her mouth, he reverse thrust, taking up a rhythm that was as
decadent and primal as the taste of his essence.

She grazed delicate teeth along his hard, veined shaft, his
deep groans intensifying until she wondered how he hadn’t yet exploded into her
mouth.

He abruptly withdrew. Then, depositing their glasses with a
sharp clank onto a nearby occasional table, he took her hand and helped her to
her feet. And all the while his eyes burned with a dangerous intensity that
somehow suited the music wafting from the speakers. Violins sparkled into a
crescendo as though a wave rushing across a shore.

“Much as I’m all too tempted to spill into your mouth, I
want more from you…much more,” he said.

“Intercourse?” she asked, aware he appreciated her dry sense
of humor. Then again, he seemed to appreciate her in any guise.

He’s not yet seen me slouching around in sweats and a
favorite old t-shirt.

His smile almost disarmed her, had her again momentarily
burn to be something more than his…what? Love toy? Expensive lay?

What would it be like to be a permanent fixture in his life?
Someone he came home to every night?

She bit into her bottom lip to bring her mind back to the
present.
Stupid girl.
What was wrong with her? Where were these thoughts
coming from? She’d never questioned her life before, never wished for anything
more.

At least, not since she’d been a naïve young girl.

She cleared her face as Blaine’s brilliant eyes assessed
her, seemingly reading her every thought…her every doubt. Then he smiled a
little. “Intercourse…yes, if that’s what you want to call it.” With her hand
still in his, he brought her farther into the room. “I’ve got just the place.”

Something beyond excitement shuddered through her body. “Oh?”

He stilled behind a sofa, bringing her to his front so that
she could see their reflection in the huge wall mirror. Her strawberry-blonde
hair should have clashed with her flame-red dress. It didn’t. Better yet, the
colors were a dramatic foil to his dark coloring, the fire to his night.

His eyes glinted with wicked intent. “I want you to watch
while I make you come.”

His head dropped low. She gasped when he raked splayed hands
through her hair and tugged her back.

Oh god.

Her scalp burned a little at the pressure. But his mouth
burned hotter still across her throat, sending a lightning bolt of need through
her nerve endings and a flood of moisture straight to her pussy.

It was beyond erotic to watch him take control, his
expertise obvious and his restraint somehow sexy. His large hands moved down
the bodice of her dress and cupped her breasts. Without the restriction of a
bra, his thumbs all too easily caressed her already hard nipples into sharp
little points.