Femme Fatale (9 page)

At long last, the non-stop orgasm finally wound down and she collapsed back, stunned. Her entire body felt vividly alive and completely drained at the same time.

“That’s one,” he laughed against her inner thigh.

“You mean we get to do that again?”

“You get to. This is your night, princess.”

“I don’t think I can—“

A quiet electrical hum started somewhere between her knees, cutting her off. “Wanna bet?” Blake asked with dark humor.

The trembling ball of the vibrator closed on her clit, her labia nestling around its cool rubber hungrily.

“Ohmigod!” Her thighs clamped shut on Blake’s forearm.

“Open up for me or I’ll turn this thing to high,” he threatened with a chuckle.

Obediently, she threw her legs open, giving him total access to whatever parts of her he wanted. The magical vibration of the rubber ball slid up and down, around her clit, across her opening, even venturing to tickle her anus. She was shocked at the number of nerves that leaped to attention there. Well,
that
explained a lot about some of the kinkier variations of sex.

The vibrating ball returned to her aching clit and she groaned with satisfaction as a sharply focused tingle of pleasure rapidly grew into a raging orgasm that ripped through her again.

“Wanna see what happens on the high setting?” Blake asked.

She was still panting too hard from orgasm number two to answer. The pitch of the hum shifted to a higher, faster pitch. This time when the vibrating rubber ball closed on her still throbbing clit, the orgasm slammed into her so hard and fast she hardly had time to register its coming. She screamed, then, as orgasm number three stripped all thought out of her brain and left her a quivering mass of orgasmic pleasure.

Blake could do absolutely anything he wanted to her right now, and she would joyfully let him, as long as that lovely vibrating rubber ball never, ever went away. Her entire world narrowed down to the area between her legs.

She lost count of the orgasms. And gasped, and moaned, and begged, and even prayed in there a few times, too, before she actually passed out from an excess of pleasure and exhaustion. Her last conscious thought was that, if she was dying, this was a hell of a way to go.

…

Blake had seen some magnificent sights in his life, but nothing compared to Olivia Harper in the throes of mind-blowing pleasure. She gave in completely to her sexuality, allowing herself to become a creature of pure sensation in his hands. The courage with which she threw herself into the experience humbled him. She was a hell of a woman.

She was also in damned fine physical shape, too. It took hours, and he lost count of how many times she arched up off the mattress crying out her pleasure before she finally, literally, collapsed in exhaustion. He tucked her in and kissed her forehead and she mumbled something incoherent, but she was unconscious by the time he reached the bedroom door.

Tonight, he did take that shower and give himself a little relief from his own pent up lust. After witnessing her performance tonight, he had to wonder if men had gotten the short end of the evolutionary sexual stick by getting only one orgasm at a time.

He crawled into bed beside her and was gratified when she burrowed into his heat, snuggling up against him without waking up. He gathered her in his arms and fell asleep with a smile on his face nearly as big as the one on hers.

No surprise, Olivia slept late the next morning. Very late. Her call wasn’t until mid-afternoon, though, so he didn’t wake her. He’d taken a long swim, dressed, and read most of two newspapers when he finally heard her shower running. He ordered a light lunch of tuna salad on croissants and fresh fruit and, when it arrived, took the wheeled table from the bellboy and pushed it out to the patio.

He turned around and Olivia was standing in the doorway behind him wearing a gauzy white cotton cover-up. Based on the silhouette of her long, slim legs and the dusky peaks of her breasts visible through the sheer fabric, he’d say she was naked beneath it.

“Sleep okay?” he murmured.

Her mouth curved up into arguably the most beautiful smile he’d ever seen, sultry and sexy and satisfied. “Yes, thank you. And you?”

“Probably not half as well as you, but fine, yes. Hungry?”

“Ravenous.”

No surprise. She must have worked up a hell of an appetite with all that strenuous exercise last night. She did surprise him, though, by stepping around the table and stretching on tiptoe to kiss him. It was tentative, a little shy, even. A sharp contrast from last night’s wanton abandon. Such complex creatures, women. Savoring this demure side of her, he let her dictate the intensity of the kiss. She broke it off sooner than he would have liked but later than he’d expected, and he seated her at the table without comment.

He was most of the way through his sandwich when she asked without warning, “So, what’s the takeaway from last night supposed to be?”

“What do you think it should be?” he threw back into her court.

“Sex is good?”

He laughed. “
Good
sex is good.”

She pondered that one for a minute. “You’re right. From a woman’s perspective, bad sex sucks.”

“What else did you learn last night?” he prodded.

“Sex could become an addiction.”

An addiction, huh? She must have
really
enjoyed herself. But then, he already knew that. She’d made no secret of it.

She frowned and added, “Sex could pretty easily control a person’s life, couldn’t it?”

That was actually a pretty profound observation. He hadn’t figured it out until his affair with Carmen had blown up in his face.

He nodded soberly. “That’s why it’s so important to pick the right partner to have sex with. People get in trouble all the time by getting hooked on sex with the wrong person. Their partner treats them like crap everywhere except in bed, but they’re so hungry for sex that they put up with terrible things outside of bed that they should walk away from.”

“What does that have to do with being a femme fatale?” she asked.

“Nothing. Consider it a little free life advice. Never sleep with an asshole in the first place.”

She chuckled. “Where were you when I was starting to date?”

He shrugged. “Getting shot at in a war zone.”

Silence fell between them. He hadn’t meant to kill the conversation. He laid his cloth napkin beside his plate. “So here’s the thing. I wanted you to figure out last night that sex rocks. It’s something to be heartily enjoyed, and there’s nothing to be ashamed of. The more enthusiastically you throw yourself into it, the more pleasurable it is.”

“Got it,” she replied briskly.

No kidding. She’d blown his mind with how well and how fast she’d learned that lesson.

“Is there a Phase Three to this project?” she asked lightly.

He studied her intently, intrigued by her tone of voice. It almost sounded like she was getting emotionally invested in a repeat between them. Which was doubly intriguing, given that they hadn’t actually had sex with each other. He’d done some pretty damned intimate things with her last night, but not one of them had been full-out sex.

He could understand her wanting another helping of last night’s menu, but he sensed there was more behind her question. Problem was, he was already walking a razor’s edge of emotions with this woman. He didn’t need her developing some crush on him. God knew he couldn’t afford to do the same.

This was business. Just business. Friends with benefits. No attachments. No real feelings, dammit. Did he dare go all the way and have sex with her? Could he hang onto even a semblance of objectivity where she was concerned if they slept together?

He took a swig of his ice water and answered lightly. “Of course, there’s a Phase Three. The frosting on the cake, as it were.”

“Gimme a hint as to what’s in store?” she cajoled.

An emotional minefield was in store
. He knew what she needed to complete her sexual crash course, but how in the hell was he going to protect himself? He couldn’t go there again. Couldn’t lose himself in a woman and destroy his life for good. He was already hiding from would-be assassins, for God’s sake. How much more complicated did his life need to be? But how was he supposed to say no to Olivia Harper? She was everything he’d ever wanted in a woman and more.

Dead. He was so freaking dead.

…

This day simply would not end. Olivia couldn’t remember the last time a shoot had ever dragged on so interminably. Normally, she loved her job and time on set flew by. But not today. Not when every few seconds her mind turned to the possibilities tonight held in store for her and Blake.

Jeremy was cautious around her and she couldn’t blame him. She’d been a pretty serious bitch yesterday. Today, she did her best to make it up to him. He probably thought she was bipolar…or possessed.

To Jeremy’s credit, he didn’t make any sleazy references to their love scene coming up tomorrow. Maybe Blake’s tactic of turning her into the Bride of Frankenstein yesterday hadn’t been such a bad idea after all. It certainly put Jeremy in a more respectful, even fearful, frame of mind. How hilarious. Who’d have guessed scaring douchebags would be one of the side benefits of becoming a femme fatale?

Another side effect was that she had become hyper-aware of Blake around the set. She could spot his silhouette hundreds of yards away and her gaze was continually drawn to him. So much so that Tyrone murmured during the application of yet another prosthetic, “Girl, you got it bad, don’t you?”

“What?” she mumbled from under Tyrone’s hands.

“He’s one-hundred-percent, USDA Prime, that Marine. I’ll give you that.”

It was that obvious she liked Blake? Crap! Their arrangement was supposed to be a gigantic secret. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she muttered.

Tyrone chuckled. “Liar, liar, pants on fire. You on the pill, girl, and I saw that box of condoms in your purse.”

“Oh, Lord,” she muttered. “And I suppose you’ll blame that blood test for STD’s last week on my attraction, too, even though it was just to keep the movie’s insurance company happy. Although I have no idea how I’d get an STD from filming a fake love scene.”

Tyrone snorted. “As if McDumbass would know how to pass one on. Ha!” He worked in silence on her face for a minute and then said insistently, “So, dish on the hot Marine, sister.”

“Okay, but you have to swear not to tell a soul. My agent will kill me if she thinks I’m even looking at someone not famous and A-list.”

“I dunno. That Marine looks pretty A-list to me. If he played for my team, I’d be all over him.”

“You know what I mean.”

Tyrone sighed. “Yeah, I do. It’s all about social climbing in this town. Who you’re seen with. Who can get you in the magazines if you can land a date with them. But honey, you’re better than all that. You’re real. Go for who
you
want, not who your adoring fans want. Don’t let the machine swallow you up and spit you out.”

She stared at the make-up artist in the big mirror in front of her chair. Not in a million years would she have expected to receive advice like that from this particular source. Worse, her gut said Tyrone was right.

She wanted more of last night. A lot more. But her gut also said that wasn’t the whole story. She wanted more than orgasms. Damn the image her agent created, Olivia wanted Blake. In all his bossy, unpredictable, domineering glory. The type of guy she’d dreamed of having when she was still a girl from the Midwest, before the glare of lights and flash of cameras lured her down another path.

Friends with benefits. Strictly secret. No attachments.

His conditions replayed in her mind, taunting her. What they had between them didn’t mean anything to him. He’d made that crystal clear before he ever tied her to that headboard. He had issues. He had a life away from the movie set that would never include her. It wasn’t his fault he was the first guy ever to pleasure her. Of course, she was bound to develop a huge crush on him, right?

His comments at lunch about the dangers of sexual addiction came back to her, this time laced with irony. Had he been warning her off of him? Telling her in so many words not to confuse her sexual desire with wanting a real relationship. She had to give the guy credit. He was subtle. He’d told her flatly not to fall for him and she’d been too blinded by all those amazing orgasms to realize it until now.

Hurt curled in her stomach like a child hiding from pain and shame. She was on her way to being a femme fatale, darn it. She could sleep with a guy and not develop a schoolgirl crush on him. More to the point, she had no choice. She had one more day to prepare for her love scene and then she and Blake were finished. No harm, no foul.

Why, then, did that word—finished—sound so bloody ominous?

Chapter Seven

Blake worried about Phase Three of Operation Femme Fatale. Olivia might be a pro at diving off emotional cliffs and letting it all hang out for everyone to see, but he was not. Particularly not after Carmen burned him so bad. He’d thought she loved him. Wanted to marry him. But it had all turned out to be a lie. A ploy to get him to pass classified materials to her government. It had been sheer dumb luck that he’d happened to walk into her apartment one day to surprise her and overheard her speaking with her Russian handler on the phone. Otherwise, who knew what would have happened?

Fortunately, he’d been able to back out of the place undetected, go to his boss, and blow her cover. His boss at the time told his superiors Blake had known all along there something was funny about her and that he’d allowed the seduction to get her to reveal herself. That his intent had been to expose her as a spy.

Blake had never told his boss that, but neither had he said anything to contradict the man, either. It still rankled him that he hadn’t been entirely forthcoming. It was how he’d avoided prison and, instead, wound up in a loony bin full of actors. And one Miss Olivia Harper.

Friends with benefits. Just business. Nothing serious.
He could be a man; he could handle whatever the evening had to offer. But damn she was gorgeous. Her body, her passion, and that sweet hint of genuine down-home girl she worked so hard to hide.

Blake hit all the traditional romantic notes when he set up for tonight’s date—an intimate, candlelit dinner for two, champagne on ice, soft music, a red rose on her pillow. Hell, he’d even sprung for a tuxedo. It had been shockingly expensive, but the shop had tailored it while he waited, and he had to admit it made him look like James Bond.

He showered, shaved, and dressed in his own room and then went up to her suite to wait for her. He had to force himself not to pace in his agitation. But Phase Three scared the living hell out of him. He only knew one way to do romance, and that was to do it for real.

The door opened and Olivia burst through it, apparently in a big hurry. She slammed the door shut behind her and turned eagerly to face him. “Oh, my,” she breathed, taking in his preparations with a wide smile. “Give me a few minutes?”

“Take all the time you need. Dinner won’t be here for another half-hour or so.”

She disappeared into her suite and his anticipation began to climb. He had faith she would wow him, but how, he had no idea.

She went with simplicity and the results were, in a word, stunning. She came out of her room wearing a little black dress that looked painted on her body. Her hair was pinned up in a loose twist, a few tendrils escaped around her face. Her make-up was understated except for a dramatic sweep of eyeliner that turned her cat eyes into even sexier weapons than usual. And her perfume…it all but brought him to his knees. It was spicy and sweet and exotic just like her.

He held her chair for her at the table for two and she blushed up at him as she murmured her thanks. “Is this Phase Three?” she asked.

“It is. Welcome to Romance 101. We’ve covered the stronger emotions of sex. And now it’s about the gentler emotions. Tenderness. Connection. The art of subtle seduction. And if I may say so, you’re off to a stellar start, Olivia.”

“I have a good teacher. And you’re looking mighty handsome yourself, tonight.”

He poured her a glass of champagne and they toasted to the movie being a big hit, to Phase Three, and, she added shyly, to lots and lots of orgasms. Their laughter mingled with the cool night air, drifting up to whatever gods looked down on them from the heavens.

After Olivia got over her initial nervousness, she seemed to relax and answered his questions about the TV and film industries while he fielded hers about life in the military. She knew her business every bit as well as he knew his, and he was not surprised to discover a sharp and observant mind at work. It hadn’t dawned on him before now that actors would have to be such astute students of people, relationships, and a million details of the world around them.

When they finished eating, he led her inside and spun her into his arms for a dance in the middle of the living room. Her body swayed easily with his, she molded to him as if she belonged there, and the moment was pretty damned near perfect.

“Where did you get so good at romance?” she murmured up at him.

He shrugged under her hand on his shoulder. “I like women. You’re endlessly fascinating creatures. I suppose it started with studying my sisters and listening to them gripe about their boyfriends. I have three older sisters.”

“Oh, God. I’m so sorry. How did you survive their teen years?”

He grinned down at her. “By getting out of the house a lot and treading carefully. Very, very carefully. Where do you think I learned to be so stealthy?”

She laughed, her eyes glowing with emotions he’d rather not put a name to. They made him feel…nervous. He commented seriously, “I’ve seen some beautiful women in my life, but I have to say you are the most spectacular one I have ever seen. I can see why everyone says you’re on your way to stardom. I predict that you’re destined for greatness.”

She smiled. “I’d rather be known for my acting than my looks. Pretty starlets come and go. But really talented actresses can stick around for a long time and have good careers.”

“From what I hear around the set, Adrian thinks you’re the second coming of Christ,” he commented.

“Really?” She gaped. “He criticizes me all the time.”

“I imagine he sees your talent and wants to push you to grow. I gather he’s a damned fine director.”

“He’s one of the best. Why else do you think I took a role in a zombie movie? I wanted to work with him.”

“Gee, and I thought it was because you make such a cute zombie.” He dropped a kiss on the tip of her nose and twirled her toward the bedroom. The surround-sound stereo piped into every room was pretty cool. He’d have to look into wiring a similar set-up into his condo in Quantico, if and when he ever got back to it.

Soft, female hands pulling free his shirt tails, roaming up under his shirt and onto his bare chest, yanked him out of his thoughts. Olivia had the mechanics of what to do once they got into the bedroom pretty well figured out. She was just in too big a hurry.

“Easy, princess. We’ve got all night.”

Quick study that she was, she glommed onto his meaning instantly. In a few minutes, he was the one having to rein in his impatience as she peeled off his clothes inch by tantalizing inch and explored his body to her heart’s content at a snail’s pace that left him swearing under his breath.

Finally, he couldn’t take it anymore and backed her up to the bed. Quickly, he unzipped her and peeled the little black dress off her body. God, she was magnificent. He stretched out on the mattress and gently tugged her down and across his chest to sprawl on top of him. He pulled out her hairpins, and her honey-streaked hair fell in a curtain around the two of them. He ran his fingertips lightly around the shell of her ear. “I feel like the luckiest man alive to be with you tonight. How can I make you feel the same way?”

“I don’t know. You’re the one who knows what he’s doing.”

He smiled. “I think the student is going to outpace the professor before too long. You’re extraordinary.”

“I’m not so sure about that. I think I still have a lot to learn.”

“Let’s remedy that, then, shall we?” He rolled over, reversing their positions, and kissed his way down her body, praising her as his lips drew along one spot of silky sweetness after another. For her part, she was as responsive as ever, arching into him with soft cries that drove him quietly, completely, mad with desire. Last night he’d known he wasn’t going to take her for himself, so it had been slightly easier to tune out her cries of desire and pleas for him to make her his. But tonight, wild horses couldn’t stop him from making love with her. Which made it a hundred times harder to stay in control.

Olivia was having no part of extended foreplay, however. She grabbed the short hair at the back of his neck and pulled him down to her impatiently. “Don’t you make me beg, Blake Ramsey. Not after last night. I’ve got no more begging left in me, you hear?”

He laughed, genuinely amused. Her frankness was beyond refreshing. It was irresistible. Still, he checked to make sure she was plenty ready for him. And how. Her body was hot and wet and throbbing with need the moment he slid his fingers between her folds. She groaned and reached for his raging erection in return. Her fist slid up and down his shaft no more than twice before he had to snatch her soft, tight hand away. He was going to blow his load right now if she didn’t stop torturing him like that.

“No fair,” she complained.

“Ahh, but all’s fair when it comes to this, princess.”

“Make love to me, then. Please?”

“I have a feeling I’m never going to be able to say no to you.”

“Just the way I like my men. Hot, hard, and willing.”

“Vixen.”

He grabbed the foil packet on the nightstand but she shook her head.

“I’m on the pill, and the movie’s insurance company made me take blood tests. I’m clean.”

“Ditto,” he murmured. He hadn’t been with a woman since Carmen, and he’d had a full physical since then.

At long last, he sank into her body, its tight, welcoming heat and feminine softness nearly undoing him on the spot. She gasped at the same time he did, all humor swept aside by the towering passion always simmering between them. It erupted in its full glory, hot, slippery, and pulsing around him, threatening to throw him off the cliff of pleasure in a matter of seconds.

He froze, teeth clenched, choking back his lust until he could move slowly within her, could savor the moment, could experience every exquisite inch of her to the fullest. Lord, the woman drove him crazy with desire.

“My God, Blake. What you do to me. I think I’m falling—”

He kissed her to silence her. If she didn’t say the words, he didn’t have to pretend he hadn’t heard them. And neither of them could afford to go there. No matter how great the sex was, they had to at least pretend to keep their emotional distance from each other. This was their secret indulgence, but it could never be anything more.

The bitter poignancy of that reality made what they had between them now all the sweeter. He wanted to savor this moment as fully as he could. Make memories to last for years to come and maybe leave her with a few fond memories, too.

She started to make those broken little gasps she did as her orgasm built. The gasps turned into short, sharp cries, which built into long moans climaxing in a low scream of release.

He captured the sound with his mouth against hers, drinking in her pleasure, reveling in the sharp-sweet residue of champagne on her breath, along with her natural berry taste.

Her body convulsed hard around his, her internal muscles milking him until he thought he’d burst. But in an act of Herculean discipline, he held off, found his rhythm again, and stroked her body to a new climax.

“Oh my God,” she mumbled against his mouth. “Yes. Yes!”

He smiled against her lips, never breaking the slow rhythm of filling her to the hilt and retreating. At least not until her legs clenched around his hips, her cries became more demanding, the rocking of her hips more urgent.

He let his control slip a notch, let his thrusts pick up speed and intensity. Her hands speared into his hair and he stared down at her, shocked at the naked desire shining in her eyes.

The power of their lovemaking built like a firestorm between them and around them, consuming them and sweeping them before it in its majesty. Blake’s control dissolved and he pounded into her over and over, driven higher and higher by her answering thrusts. Her fingernails raked his back and she grabbed his buttocks, crying out his name as the next orgasm slammed into her.

He might have let go himself, then, but compliments of last night, he knew her body was far from finished. On and on the fire raged around them as they burned down the night. She climaxed again and again, convulsing around him until he thought he’d died and gone to Heaven. One last time, he felt the power of an orgasm building within her and he stoked it carefully, feeding fuel to the fire, coaxing her further and further until finally, with a long, keening cry, she came completely and utterly undone around him.

With a shout of his own, he joined her in oblivion. The entire world exploded in a blinding blaze of glory.

Gradually, he became aware of silence around them. Quiet. Peace, even. He was home. Never before, and never again, would he experience anything to top that. He closed his eyes in a brief prayer of gratitude for this moment of pure perfection.

“Thank you,” he managed to breathe aloud to the woman who’d irrevocably changed him and his perception of life.

“I think I’m the one who’s supposed to be thanking you,” she panted back. “I’ve never— I had no idea— Just, wow.”

He kissed her lightly, propping himself up on his elbows so he didn’t crush her. Their bodies fit so perfectly, and he was so spent that he made no effort at all to move away from her. And truth be told, he had no desire to end this moment.

She gazed up at him, her eyes by turns serious and thoughtful before settling on something akin to wonderment. He could watch her face forever. The play of emotions was a never-ending, ever-changing kaleidoscope he found utterly fascinating.

“Please tell me you’re not going to grade my performance,” she finally murmured.

This was safe ground. No talk of deep feelings and true love forever. He laughed lightly. “You just blew the grading curve completely off the scale, honey.”

“So that wasn’t average sex?” she asked in a small voice.

He grinned. “If you look up epic sex in the dictionary, what we just did will be in there as the example of how it’s supposed to be done.”

The insecurity lurking at the back of her gaze dissipated partway. He continued, “I’m serious, Olivia. It’s not that I’ve slept around over the years, but I have had my fair share of good sex before. And that—” he searched for words “—that was unlike anything I’ve ever experienced. It was…magic.”