Femme Fatale (8 page)

Amen, brother
. Never in her life had she been even this remotely turned on. She’d had no idea she could even feel this stretched-to-the-breaking-point tension. A need so deep and primal to take this man inside her overcame her. She turned around and pressed herself against the length of him, wrapping her arms around his neck and her left leg around his hips.

He stood statue still and let her climb all over him. She pulled the towel from his hips and turned her mouth and hands loose on the candyland of his body. It was the first time she’d ever explored a man’s body at her leisure. He made occasional sounds in the back of his throat of pleasure and approval, and she catalogued every spot that wrung a groan from him and what got the biggest reactions.

She might be a movie star, but she had nothing on him in the physical perfection department. His body was hard and fit, wreathed in muscles that were strong and capable. A mixture of lean and massive, flat planes and muscular bulges, he was a gorgeous specimen of male anatomy. And he let her have access to every square inch of him. How did he know she’d be so curious? He really did know her better than she knew herself.

His self-restraint was admirable. He was clearly turned on and had to be craving serious, hard-driving sex as badly as she did if the size and iron hardness of his erection was any indication.

After she had explored his package thoroughly with hands and mouth and tongue, he finally reached down to lift her by the shoulders. Thank God. She was so horny she could scream. All kinds of naughty thoughts about what she was willing to let him do to her right now skated through her mind excitedly.

Smiling wickedly, his eyes dark and hungry, he led her over to the big bed. Kissing her, he pushed her down gently to the mattress. The sheets were cool and smooth on her burning skin. Every nerve in her body screamed for this. Anticipating her first ever orgasm, she strained toward him eager for what was shaping up to be a mind-blowing release. So
this
was why everyone was so hot and bothered about sex. She got it, now.

Blake’s naked, heated body pressed down on hers and she wrapped her legs around his hips, urging him forward. He laughed, resisting the pull, and pushed up, kneeling between her knees. Sprawled before him, she felt like a siren calling him to her.

“God, you’re beautiful,” he murmured.

He reached over her head for something out of sight. “Give me your right hand,” he instructed. She raised her arm and was startled when something soft slipped around her wrist and tightened. She tilted her head to look up and spied one of her silk neck scarves tightened in a slipknot around her wrist. She tugged at it experimentally as he reached for her left hand and tethered it to the opposite corner of the bed.

She was able to move her arms around, but her hands would not reach one another over her head. Going straight for the kink, was he? Not that she was complaining. The helpless feeling that washed over her as he slid down between her knees was glorious.

She cried out when his hot, wet mouth closed on her core. His tongue dipped between her cleft and found her swollen, pulsing clit. He licked it like he was savoring a sweet, slippery, dripping slice of peach. In about three seconds, she was on the verge of a screaming orgasm. Electricity built up in the pit of her belly, flying out to her fingertips and back, concentrating where his tongue laved and flicked, building up to the very edge of a monstrous static discharge of orgasmic proportions. Tension coiled between her legs, building…building…almost…

And then his tongue retreated.

“Don’t stop,” she begged. “It’s right there. Ohmigod…” She didn’t know exactly what ‘it’ was, but she was figuring it out fast. And she was pretty freaking sure she was going to love it.

The bed shifted, and her eyes flew open. Blake stood beside the bed, staring down at her, his face inscrutable. He spoke grimly, his voice tight. “Sex is better if you anticipate it for a while. One-night stands are fine for an hour or two. But wanting someone, thinking about him, lusting after him, letting the anticipation build makes the sex that much better when it finally comes.”

“Blake! Please. I can’t take this…I’m so close…” Dammit, she didn’t have the words to describe how she hovered at the precipice of something incredible and unknown. To describe how badly she wanted it. How she’d never felt this before and desperately wanted to experience that magic thing dangling just out of reach.

“I’ll be in the other bedroom if you have an emergency other than massive sexual frustration.” To her incredulous shock, he turned and headed for the door.

“You can’t leave me like this!” she cried out. “I’m tied up for God’s sake!”

“Sorry. The object of tonight’s lesson is for you not to get any sexual relief. I’ll be back in the morning to turn you loose.” And with that, he walked out of her fucking bedroom and closed the fucking door.

The. Fucking. Bastard.

Sexual frustration so intense she nearly wept from it rolled through her. She scissored her legs back and forth. Tried to rub her nether regions against the mattress to find some sort of relief, but the angle was wrong with her tied on her freaking back like this. She yanked at the silk ties, but of course, Mr. Marine knew his damned knots. She tossed and turned and shouted at him to come in here right now and untie her, all to no avail. No matter how much she railed or begged through the walls, he didn’t come back.

If he’d wanted to make her horny and mad as hell, he’d certainly succeeded spectacularly. When he untied her in the morning, she was going to kill him. After she ripped his balls off.

Chapter Six

Blake grinned. So, the hometown girl was real, after all—no one was that good an actress. He couldn’t help but be smitten with the way she trembled, sighed, blushed, and shied away as if sex truly was a new experience. And he’d relish every moment of her sensual awakening.

If he had thought getting involved with Carmen had been playing with fire, giving sex lessons to Olivia Harper had been like jumping into a full-blown volcano. As a military commander, he was decisive and bold, not afraid to take the initiative or a calculated risk in the pursuit of a goal. And almost without exception, it paid off.

But as he lay in bed and listened to Olivia curse him out more creatively than he’d have believed possible from a nice Midwestern girl, he had second thoughts about this course of action.

Three days wasn’t long to turn her into a femme fatale. He’d opted for shock therapy to get her into the necessary frame of mind. But maybe he’d gone too far. If she called the police and had him arrested in the morning, he’d know for sure that he had. How else, though, was he going to bring out the sexy, uninhibited, confident woman he sensed within her in only a matter of days?

It didn’t help his doubts that his own body protested in the strongest possible terms about leaving her alone and unsatisfied in her room. Lust pounded through his dick so hard with every beat of his heart that he could barely breathe for fear of exploding. He ought to take a shower and relieve the tension, but that hardly seemed fair. What was good for the goose was good for the gander. He couldn’t in good conscience take Olivia to the very edge of an epic orgasm and then leave her wanting while he casually allowed himself to get off.

Eventually, she grew silent and he stopped hearing her thrash in her bed. She must have fallen asleep. He hoped her dreams were as horny as his were bound to be.

Sure enough, he tossed and turned through the night, his dreams dark and debauched. If he got around to doing to Olivia half of what he’d dreamed, she was going to be more than prepared for any love scene she ever filmed.

In the hour before dawn, he got up and eased into her room using all the killer’s stealth his years in combat had perfected. She sprawled naked among the badly tangled sheets. If a photographer snapped her at this exact moment the images would go down in history as iconic depictions of female sensuality.

Working carefully, he used his razor sharp field knife to slice through the silk scarves near the bedposts. He took one last look at her, burning an image of her perfection into his memory for all time. And then he crept out of the room and eased the door shut silently.

He pulled on his still damp clothes and slipped out of the suite after clearing the hall through the peephole. He didn’t run into anyone as he made his way back to his own room and a cold shower.

As the sun rose, he drove out to the movie set. Jackson Motta and Jeremy McDaniel’s stunt double had several scenes to film today, and a couple of them were going to be tricky. Jackson had asked for back up from Blake in setting up the explosives for one of them. No harm in getting started early.

Besides, he knew better than to face Olivia today. At least not by himself. If he was going to see her, it had better be in public in front of a bunch of people so she didn’t claw his eyes out. Tonight, he would make it all better for her—if he lived that long. In his experience, there was nothing on earth more dangerous than a horny, pissed-off female of the human species.

…

Adrian wanted angry determination? Oh, she could give him that. All she had to do was picture Blake Ramsey walking out on her last night, leaving her tied to her fucking bed.

He’d been a chickenshit and avoided her like the plague all day, which was probably just as well. She was going to murder him slowly and painfully the first time she managed to corner him without an audience.

“Jesus, Olivia, that’s brilliant!” Adrian announced over the megaphone. “Camera three, can you get an even tighter shot of her face? God, that’s going to make for ninety-four feet of pure fury on the big screen, baby.”

“Since when did you become the great American actress?” Jeremy muttered, peeved.

Since Blake Ramsey made a complete fool of her. He must be laughing his ass off at leaving the Hollywood starlet trussed up like a cheap slut in her bed. “You’re an actor, Jeremy,” she snapped. “Channel your real life experiences into the role and become the character. It’s not rocket science to act half-decently.”

Glowering, Jeremy stomped away while chuckles floated toward his back from nearby crewmembers. “What a bitch,” he complained to no one in particular.

Her eyes narrowed. He had no idea. If any man dared to cross her right now, she was going to hurt him. Bad.

The next scene called for a tender moment between Jeremy and her, and she ended up having to take a big dose of her own advice. She was feeling anything but tender at the moment. Psycho on the warpath was more accurate. But she put on her big girl panties and channeled kittens and babies and got through the scene. Thankfully, Adrian was perceptive enough to compliment Jeremy on the take. Her co-star seemed slightly mollified.

Shooting wrapped a little after four a.m. and she headed for her car. When she got back to her suite, she was getting drunk, climbing in the shower, and scratching the itch that had been riding her since last night.

She headed straight for her bedroom and stopped in shock as she threw open the double doors. Hundreds of candles burned on every horizontal surface of the room, casting a warm, golden light on what had to be a thousand white roses. Vases and bowls of them were everywhere the candles were not. Their rich perfume was velvet in the air. What the hell? It looked like someone was getting married in here.

Blake rose from the armchair across the room. He wore all black—black slacks and a black turtleneck with the sleeves pushed up to reveal his gorgeous forearms.

All she said was, “Get. Out.”

His head dipped in acknowledgement. “Remember this feeling. You’re horny. You’re mad. You want relief, and you’re going to hurt someone if you don’t get it soon. This is where sexual aggressiveness comes from. Take charge when you feel like this. Push your lover down, rip off his clothes, and demand satisfaction.”

Her jaw sagged. He had the gall to think she was going to continue with his stupid femme fatale lessons? Of all the nerve—

She stormed across the open space, lifted her hand, and swung it at him as hard as she could.

Blake was faster. His hand shot up and he caught her wrist a few inches from his face. She struggled to get loose, but his fist gripped her like an iron manacle. He said evenly, “Never slap a guy, Olivia. It just makes him mad. If you’re gonna take a swing at a guy, slug him. It’ll still make him mad, but it’ll slow him down long enough for you to get away or for him to see reason.”

She was so not seeing reason right now. She was seeing red, dammit. “How dare you—”

He jerked her wrist, yanking her against him. Unwillingly, her body reacted to the proximity of a sexy, strong male subduing her aggression. His mouth swooped down on hers, and he kissed her wet and hard and carnal.

She couldn’t decide which she wanted more: to continue the kiss or kill him. He saved her the choice, though, by lifting his mouth away from hers and explaining, “Tonight, we’re going to experience the opposite sensation from last night.”

“The opposite of frustration?” The words slipped out before she could call them back.

“Let’s play a little game, shall we? Let’s see how many orgasms you can have before you collapse.”

Huh?

He turned her loose and retraced his steps across the room. “I have a present for you.” He picked up a wand nearly the length of his forearm from the side table. It had a big, round ball on the end of it.

“What’s that?” she asked cautiously.

He grinned knowingly. “It’s about to be your very best friend.”

A vibrator? Jeez. That thing looked industrial strength.

“I know last night wasn’t fun for you,” he continued. “At least not the way it ended. But it was necessary. You asked me to teach you how to be a femme fatale in three days. That means I had to take you through a wide range of emotions and sensations very fast—including the negative ones related to sex that give women power. Give me one more night. If you still hate my guts in the morning, I’ll get out of your hair and never bother you again. I promise.”

Orgasms until she collapsed? Her frustrated libido reared its head hopefully. It liked the sound of that. She took another step into the room.

“Close the door behind you. If I don’t miss my guess, it’s going to get loud soon, and we don’t want to scare the neighbors.”

“Loud?” she echoed.

He smiled widely. “You strike me as a screamer. Shall we find out?”

Blake poured her a flute of champagne and smiled knowingly. Somewhat mollified, she drained the glass, the bubbles tickling down her throat. So what if he found her need for fortification amusing? With him, she could be herself and not worry about what he thought. After all, this was just business. Nothing serious. Right?

“More?” he murmured.

Damn, she wanted to stay mad at him, but his consideration won her over. As usual. She nodded shyly.

His voice husky, he said low, “Do you have any idea how smoking hot you are when you go all sweet and feminine like this?”

“Show me?” she ventured.

“My pleasure.” He lifted the empty champagne flute from her fingers and raised her hand to his mouth, kissing her fingertips one by one. He worked his way up her wrist, pausing to inhale the scent of her skin.

“What do I smell like?”

“Like a woman. Soft. Sexy.” His lips uttered the words against her skin as he kissed a path of heat across the inside of her elbow up to the hollow above her collar bone, where he paused to lave her flesh with his tongue. Who knew that spot was so sensitive? Nerves all over her body jumped as his tongue swirled in and out of the dip just below her neck.

His hands joined in, roaming across her flesh, pushing aside clothing, lifting it away and making it magically disappear. Cool air from the air conditioner whisked across her skin, raising goose bumps that Blake nibbled his way across until her entire body was shivering.

She tried to undress him in turn, but only managed to get his black turtleneck off before he captured her hands and lifted them away from his bare chest. “This night is for you, baby,” he murmured. His low, sexy promise touched her core and weakened her knees.

He led her to the bed. She might have felt like a lamb going to the slaughter were it not for the lovely lightness the champagne gave her feet and her head. She floated across the thick pile carpet barefoot. “Make me feel like a princess.”

He picked her up and gazed down at her, his expression intense but otherwise unreadable. “Then let me worship you, princess.”

He laid her on the bed and impossibly soft rose petals caressed her skin as gentle as velvet. Their crushed fragrance filled her head until she was drunk on the sweet musk.

“That’s what you smell like to me,” he whispered against her neck. She arched up into him, and his hard, warm body was there, reminding her of his masculine presence, feeding her hunger for him. She pressed her thighs tightly together as her core throbbed demandingly.

Last night’s unsatisfied lust came roaring back. Her breasts ached as his hands skimmed across them, her nipples tightening into needy little buds. His lips closed on one, his tongue rolling around it while his fingers mimicked the motion on her other peak.

“Oh, my,” she half-sighed, half-moaned.

He chuckled against her hot, wet flesh. Still kneading her breasts with both hands, he kissed his way down her body. His big hands skimmed down her ribs, lifting her narrow waist to his mouth. All those hours in the gym paid off as her supple body flexed for him. And then he cupped her ass in his big hands and he was lifting that hungry, throbbing, wanting part of her to his mouth.

His fingers delved into her cleft as he spread her open for him. She’d never felt so vulnerable before. So exposed. Or, oh, God, so possessed, as his mouth closed on her.

He sucked and licked and toyed with her like her body was a piece of candy. His favorite flavor. His for the taking. His to savor. He made a sound of approval and she started the long, slow unraveling she remembered from last night.

Her fingers and toes began to tingle. The electric sensation gathered strength, accelerating throughout her body, streaking toward the glorious things his tongue was doing to her clit, her labia, and even her opening. Where the wetness of his mouth ended and the wetness of her body’s desire began, she had no idea. It was all one giant raging ball of clawing lust, climbing deep inside her, zinging wildly throughout her.

His teeth grazed her sensitized flesh and her upper body lurched up off the mattress. It was starting. An orgasmic storm gathered in her, roiling faster and faster, a static charge building up unbearably within it, his tongue flicking faster and faster across her swollen flesh.

“Oh my God, yes!” she cried out.

A lit fuse raced toward the massive build-up of explosive energy he’d whipped to a frenzy inside her. Almost…almost…

Little bolts of lightning started to erupt but still the thing built within her, his tongue darting hot and wet across her clit.

“Don’t. Stop,” she gasped.

“Ready?” he paused long enough to ask.

“Now, Blake! Please, God, now!”

His teeth and tongue and lips clamped down on her clit at the same time he plunged his fingers inside her, filling her and stretching her as they plundered all of her.

Her orgasm exploded, shattering her into a million pieces as volts of electric pleasure tore through every cell in her body. Her mind went black and then white hot bliss flung her limbs wide and shot her up off the mattress into Blake’s mouth keening in utter abandon as the first shock wave of the orgasm ripped through her.

And then another wave of pleasure slammed into her. And another. On and on it went, crackling through her body, emanating from and returning to Blake’s magic mouth upon her center. For his part, he sucked at her like she was the elixir of life, drawing every drop of pleasure from her that her body would yield to him. It was the most intimate thing anyone had ever done to her.