Knights and Kink Romance Boxed Set (23 page)

Christ with a crutch. He’d found me. What was this
guy, a one-man CIA?

“What the hell are you doing calling me here?” I
screeched.“Get off this line. I’m expecting an important call.”

“I think
my
call is pretty damn important,”
he shot back. “Considering the fact you cut me off in the middle of
a sentence the last time I tried to talk to you.”

“And I’ll be cutting
you
off this time, too!”
I growled, my finger poised on the receiver button, itching to
terminate the call. But an invisible force seemed to be preventing
me from pressing it. An invisible force that was also making my
crotch itch.

“Fine,” Rodney seethed. “So cut me off then.”

“All right, I will!” And I wanted to. I really,
really did. But I just couldn’t get my finger to press the hang-up
button or my hand to lower the receiver. It was as if the mere
sound of Rodney’s voice over a thousand miles of fiber-optic
telephone cable was enough to paralyze me from the waist up.

I definitely
wasn’t
paralyzed from the waist
down, however. Even if my top half seemed frozen inside a block of
ice, my lower half was on fire.

“Look Jasmine, you’re obviously very upset with me,”
he said. “And given what happened over the past couple days, that’s
perfectly understandable. But I told you before and I’m telling you
again. I had
nothing
to do with those stories being
published about you. Not in my paper, and not in anybody else’s
paper. I know it might be hard for you to believe—“
“You’re right,” I said, nonchalant. “It
is
pretty hard to
believe. Frankly, I’d believe that a large flock of monkeys could
fly out of my rear end before I’d believe any word you said.”
Strengthened by my own assertiveness, I finally managed to unlock
my frozen limbs and slammed down the phone.

Almost as soon as the receiver hit the cradle, it
rang again.

It was Rebecca this time. “Jasmine? Are you there?
I’ve been trying to get through for five minutes—”

“I know, I know, I’m sorry. Rodney Doyle was tying
up the line. God only knows how he tracked me all the way down
here.”

Rebecca coughed. “Umm, well, there’s kind of a thing
about that,” she stammered.

“What do you mean?”

Rebecca coughed again. “I umm, sort of told him
where you were,” she said.

My jaw hit the receiver with a thud.
“
What?”

“Well, he showed up at Senator Grayle’s office
demanding to know where you were. And he refused to leave unless
somebody told him. He made quite a scene, in fact. So I told
him.”

Now I was confused. “All right, fine. But how did
you
know where I was?”

Rebecca paused and cleared her throat. “That’s kind
of a long story.”

I sank backwards into a chair. I thought I had done
everything possible to keep my little Caribbean excursion—and its
purpose—secret. I could only imagine how my whereabouts could have
gotten back to Rebecca—or anyone else—back in Washington. Someone
had betrayed me. And that someone looked increasingly like
Dexter.

“Jasmine? Are you still there?”

“Yes, I’m still here,” I said in a small voice. “So,
how did you find out?”

“Well, it’s sort of complicated,” Rebecca replied.
“I’m not sure I can explain it over the phone.”

I rolled my eyes. “How else can you possibly explain
it? You’re a thousand miles away.”

Rebecca laughed. “Actually, no I’m not,” she said.
“I’m at the St. Lucia Airport. My flight just touched down half an
hour ago. I was trying to book a taxi out to the resort when you
called my cell.”

Now I was totally baffled. “Rebecca, you aren’t
making any sense.”

“I know,” she said. “Like I said, it’s sort of
complicated. I’ll explain everything when we get there. Bye.”

“Wait a sec—
we
? Who’s
we
?”

But it was too late; Rebecca had already hung up the
phone.

Twenty minutes later, there was a knock at my suite
door. I opened it, and was stunned to find Rebecca standing next to
Jacob Raleigh—a dapper, young, and
single
two-term
Congressman from Rhode Island, who I knew from my habit of watching
late-night C-SPAN had served on the House Economics Committee for
the past three years. There was no mistaking that
uber
-handsome face and body of his anywhere—in addition to
making frequent appearances on C-SPAN, Jacob Raleigh had recently
graced the cover of
Washington Singles
when he was named
“The Hill’s Most Eligible Bachelor.”

“Hi, Jasmine,” Rebecca said in an unusually
assertive voice. “I’d like you to meet my boyfriend, Jacob.”

I looked from Rebecca to Jacob, then back to
Rebecca. “You never told me you were dating a Congressman.”

Rebecca blushed. “Jacob and I prefer to keep our
relationship private,” she said. “For the time being, at least.”
Jacob—or rather, Congressman Raleigh—nodded in agreement.

“But why?” I asked. “I’d think your relationship
would be good for
both
your careers.”

Rebecca’s cheeks went an even deeper red. “Jacob and
I have some very unusual tastes in the bedroom department,” she
said. “We think it’s best to keep quiet about our relationship, at
least until all the hullabaloo in the press over you and Senator
Grayle quiets down. I’m sure you understand.”

Now I was really baffled. “No, I’m afraid I don’t
understand at all.”

Jacob and Rebecca exchanged looks. “Can we speak in
private?” Jacob asked. I nodded, and ushered them both through the
suite’s foyer and into the sitting room proper. I double-locked the
door behind them and turned up the air conditioning to muffle our
voices to anyone who might be listening at the door—given how hot
the press scrutiny had gotten back in Washington, one could never
be too careful.

Jacob sat down in one of the suite’s overstuffed
easy chairs. “I’m acquainted with your friend Dexter,” he said.
“Many members of Congress are, in fact, as are any number of
high-level bureaucrats. He’s quite the man about town.”

I raised one eyebrow. “Is that so?”

Jacob nodded. “Yes, that’s so. You might be
surprised to hear this, but Dexter wasn’t always a cab driver. Once
upon a time, Dexter worked as an undercover officer for the FBI. On
the international vice squad.”

My stomach did a flip-flop. “Oh, great. I guess that
means I’m going to be arrested.”

Jacob laughed. “On the contrary. Dexter left the FBI
years ago to strike out on his own. He’s what you might call an
independent contractor.”

“What do you mean?”

“Dexter got fed up with FBI corruption some years
back, and decided to take all the knowledge and contacts he’d built
up in his career there out on the road,” Jacob said. “What Dexter
does is mostly illegal or borderline illegal, but it’s harmless
enough that most of the powers that be look the other way. And the
reason the powers that be do that is because they’re mostly
Dexter’s customers.”

“I figured as much when I hired him to help me,
Congressman,” I said. “But what has all of this got to do with you
and Rebecca?”

“Rebecca and I are some of Dexter’s most loyal
customers,” Jacob replied. “So when we heard about your little
planned shindig here on St. Lucia, we of course arranged to be
among the first to arrive. We hope you don’t mind.”

I glanced from Rebecca—who was beaming—back to
Jacob, then back to Rebecca again. I could hardly believe what I
was hearing. Rebecca had never struck me as the type who was into
weird and wild nooky-for-hire. “This isn’t some kind of joke, is
it?”

“No joke, Jasmine,” Rebecca said. “We’re here to get
in on some of the fun. Jacob and I love nothing more than a good
ménage. Unless, of course, you’d rather not—ahem—
work
with
us. . .”

I felt my nether regions getting warm. “No! I mean,
yes! I mean—“ I rubbed my sweaty palms on my thighs. “I’m not sure
if this is exactly what I had in mind when I set this whole thing
up,” I said. “My goal was to try to advance my own career and make
some new connections, not sleep with my boss’ secretary and her
powerful Congressman boyfriend. No offense intended, of
course.”

“None taken,” Jacob said. “If it makes a difference,
I’m looking for a new publicist. Rebecca tells me you’re very good.
Maybe we could talk about the possibility of a job in my
Congressional office after we’ve—ahem—traded favors, so to speak.
Or not. It’s your call.”

“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do,
Jasmine,” Rebecca added. “I know this all must seem very strange,
given how long you’ve known me and all.”

By now, my crotch was broiling. It
was
strange, the prospect of hopping in bed with my secretary and
co-worker of the past two years,
and
her very hot young
Congressman boyfriend. But that’s exactly what made it so
appealing. It made me feel just a bit dirty—in a
good
way—to
hop between the sheets with Rebecca, someone who’d sat across from
me in an office cubicle typing memos and answering phones for two
years, all the while playing the part of the quiet, sweet, and
innocent North Dakota girl—even more so than I had. Who knew she
was a connoisseur of the wilder things in life? Engaging in illicit
group sex with a hot young Congressman was probably one of the
wildest—not to mention the
riskiest
, given what the media
would do with such a scoop if they were ever found out—forms of
sexual entertainment known to womanhood.

And Rebecca had been up to her neck (and who knew
what other body parts) in just that for God knew how long.

It was enough to make a girl get all hot and
bothered.

I dabbed at my dampening forehead with my sleeve.
“You know, I think we could give it a try,” I said.

Rebecca jumped up, giggled, and clapped her hands.
“Yay! Jasmine, you don’t know how much this means to me.”

I chuckled. “You’re right, I don’t.”

Rebecca came to embrace me, and then gave me a wet
kiss on the cheek. “I hate to admit it, but I’ve always had a bit
of a crush on you. I don’t normally go for girls unless it’s part
of a ménage, but you’re probably the only woman I know who I’d even
consider going to bed with alone. I hope you don’t mind my saying
so.”

I hugged her back. “I’ll take it as a compliment,” I
said. “But I’d rather we did it as a ménage. I’ve never done that
before, and I’ve always wanted to try it.” Which was true—even if I
hadn’t realized it until just that moment.

“Of course,” Rebecca said, unbuttoning her blouse.
“Let’s get started, shall we?”

Jacob followed suit and began loosening his tie.
“How about we order in some room service before we launch the
festivities? I’m starving, and we can always make the food part of
the fun.”

I smiled at this, remembering the very sexy
experience I’d had with food recently at the hands of Rodney
Doyle—then I forced the image from my mind. I wasn’t going to let
my anger with Rodney spoil the evening’s fun. No way. “I’ve never
mixed food and sex before, either,” I lied. “Sounds like a good
time.”

I scanned the room-service menu and placed orders
for jerk chicken, fried plantains, conch fritters, and
coconut-and-saffron rice, along with plenty of frozen tropical
cocktails. Rebecca ordered something called
callaloo,
and
promised it would be the best of all—from both a taste and sensual
perspective.

While we were waiting for the room service to
arrive, we all decided to do slow stripteases for each other.
Rebecca went first, as she finished unbuttoning her white silk
blouse and slid the slippery fabric off her torso like melted
butter. Once the garment was off, she twirled it round and round
her index finger, then waved it back and forth over her head like a
battle flag. Next came her flirty little black skirt, which had a
set of six delicate fabric-covered buttons at the back. She reached
around behind her and expertly unfastened each one, making a show
of every tiny motion of her fingers and emphasizing each step of
the process with a swing of her hips. Once she’d loosened the
waistline, Rebecca did a miniature belly dance, sending the skirt
sliding down her hips in a sultry display that I couldn’t help
finding insanely erotic.

Rebecca stepped out of the skirt, leaving on her
shoes and stockings—which were held up by snowy-white lace garters
that matched her lace demi-cup bra exactly. As a bonus, she wore no
panties. Her pubis had been waxed satin-smooth, making her
wide-open, already sweating cleft the feature attraction. She
slipped off her bra one cup at a time, then clasped her
pearl-tipped globes in each hand, giving them both a pert little
squeeze.

I was seeing my old cubicle-mate in a whole new
light.

Rebecca sauntered over to Jacob, whose enjoyment of
the proceedings was illustrated by the growing tent in his pants.
She ran her tongue around and around the inside of Jacob’s left
ear, making him shiver with delight. She pulled his loosened tie
out of his collar, then tied it over his eyes in an improvised
blindfold. Then she whispered something into his ear that made the
tent in his trousers even bigger.

Blindfolded, Jacob stumbled in my direction. I met
him half way, and he groped at the air until his hands found my
shoulders. He pulled me close, and whispered, “Strip me naked,
Jasmine.”

I sucked in my breath. I’d never stripped a total
stranger naked before—let alone a Congressman.

Maybe there was hope for my career in Washington
after all.

“All right,” I whispered back. “Stand still.”

He obeyed. My clit fluttered a bit as I felt a surge
of power, just like I had back at the House of Flowers. I started
by unbuttoning his conservative blue oxford shirt, which I could
tell was custom-tailored by the fine stitching and the monogrammed
initials on each cuff. He wore no undershirt, so each loosened
buttonhole revealed a glimpse of Jacob’s firm, muscular chest, with
its light coating of sandy-blonde hair. I threw wide the unbuttoned
shirt and ran my palms up and down his chest and abdomen, which
were hard and rippled underneath my fingers—and growing slick with
sweat as he became more and more aroused. I traced my fingers in
ever-narrower circles on his hard pecs until they landed on his
razor-sharp nipples, which I pinched, rubbed, and plucked until he
groaned. My fingers strayed lower, until they reached the dark
“love line” of hair leading to his groin. I ran my fingers up and
down that line, up and down, slowly and steadily, until they
finally settled on his belt buckle.