Sweet Seduction Secrets (Sweet Seduction, Book 8): A Love At First Sight Romantic Suspense Series (8 page)

“I’ll accept friends with benefits,” I allowed. “But it all depends on your interpretation, doesn’t it?”

He stared at me, the need tamped but still visible. Behind the cautious demeanour of a gentleman.

I didn’t need a gentleman. I needed Adam Savill wrapped around my pinkie, begging for the next touch, the next taste, the next sweet release.

“What is
your
interpretation, Charlie?” he asked, surprising me. Not just for his quick recovery, but because it was the first time he’d said my given name. And it seemed to resonate within me. A breach we’d crossed. A divide conquered.

I moved forward, lifting one hand to the back of his neck, wrapping fingertips around his nape. The other slipping under his jacket and seeking out hot, smooth, hard flesh. His stomach muscles quivered with the light sweep of my fingers, matching the thrumming of my blood.

“My interpretation?” I whispered,
husked
, against his lips. “Fuck friendships and fuck your friends.”

My lips melded to his on a moan; mine not Adam’s. Yet another surprise for the night. But within a split second of landing my
coup de grâce
, Adam had me locked in his embrace, his tongue delving between my teeth, his big body engulfing my smaller frame. His entire being consuming my thoughts, my emotions, my
everything
. Hot hands, eager mouth, devastating lips and touch and cologne.

I was pretty fucking sure that his interpretation mirrored mine. And for the first time in a long time, I forgot the reasons why I’d chosen a mark and let myself fall into the sensations that mark created instead. Lost myself in the moment. In the physical rapture this man, this stalker, commanded. In the singular sensation of being wanted, desired, as much as I wanted and desired him.

The Director was right: I’d lost my touch. I was more dangerous than a rogue specialist or an agent who was tired. I was a firecracker and Adam was my lit match.

The question was, what would we ignite? Just us? Or everything the Department held sacred.

Because one thing was for certain, the more I felt, the more
alive
I became. And if the Director was after me, then heaven help him. Because Charlie Downes alive, feeling, sensing, living, was an explosion even he would not be able to contain.

H
oly fucking shit
, this woman was lethal. And hot. She was freaking hot. I couldn’t decide if I wanted to touch every part of her smoking body or lick it. But hey, I was sure I could manage both.

She tasted sweet; something fresh, sensual and dark, like after dinner mints. She moaned, when her lips met mine; a sound that reached into the very depths of me and wrenched something tight. Made my stomach contract and my body shudder and every single sensation I felt feel like rocket fuel or liquid nitrogen. Cold and hot and deadly.

Charlie was deadly. I just couldn’t figure out if her lethal skills would reach only as far as a bed. Or more.

There was something about her and not just the way her body arched into mine, the way her hips rocked seductively in just the right spot, or her teeth nibbled a little harder than most women would dare. Nor the way her hands never hesitated in their exploration, fingers running over my nipple in a move I know I’d practised before.

She thought she was in charge of the kiss, but that small slip of sound she’d made when we first came together was enough to let me know the woman may act in control, but under the surface was a fire waiting to become an inferno.

And she was heating me up as well.

Vanilla and spice I couldn’t identify invaded my nose as I buried my face in the curve of her neck, blonde hair falling over my cheek, adding to the rush of sensations her hands and proximity were creating. She let out a sigh as she tipped her head back, exposing more of her throat for me to lick and kiss and bite. My mouth open, my tongue lapping, my teeth scraping; I think I was about to explode.

I made a sound; funny how the tables can turn so quickly. Our lips melded again as though we couldn’t bare to be apart, away from that one connection; mouth to mouth; tongue tangled with tongue; teeth clicking together because we were kissing each other with such unrestrained passion. In that moment I knew paradise. In that caress of lips I found something I had never experienced before. Something real and alive and so fucking consuming.

It didn’t matter where we were or what time of day it was; I had to have this woman.

My hands slid down her sides, over the curve of her breasts under her jacket. Her t-shirt slipped out of her trousers and paradise became a whole lot better. Hot skin, smooth like silk, taut over well defined muscles. Fuck, this chick worked out. I gripped her waist and hauled her closer, crushing her up against my erection, letting her get to know my arousal.

How’s that, baby? Like what you feel?

Turning abruptly, I spun us around until her back met the railing and my body molded to the length of hers; trapping her, wrapping around her, getting as close to her as I could physically achieve while still dressed. Her leg came up and hooked around my hip, I slipped my hands down to the curve of her fucking fantastic arse and cradled each cheek. Then with an expulsion of air across kiss swollen lips I hauled her up my body, across my now straining cock, until both legs were around my waist and her butt was sitting on the railing at just the right height.

I could fuck her here. Out in the open for anyone to see. I could take her and make her mine; even if for just this night. I could kiss away her screams of release, lose myself between her thighs, sink myself deep inside her hot, hot pussy.

I wanted to. Fuck me, my dick was begging me to. But there was something about Charlie. Something more important than a quick shag on the beach.

And it had nothing to do with her being a co-worker.

I slowed the kiss down. She tried to ramp it up again. I smiled against her neck, licking her rapid pulse, rocking back against her inviting hips. Feeling like I was in charge of the universe.

And then she bit me. Fucking teeth and tongue, full on love bite on the side of my neck, right below my ear where the skin is sensitive for more than one reason. I groaned. Pulled her closer. Felt the world tip and disappear. Felt my heart thundering inside my chest, the blood pumping through my cock; a fire of want and need and absolute, wretched desire.

“Fucking hell,” I breathed, kissing along her jaw and melding my lips to hers. “I want you,” was said in amongst kisses and caresses and body shuddering rocks and strokes and mini explosions. Nerve endings firing. Or misfiring. It was hard to tell. Everything felt electric. Tingling. Bright sparks. Hazy vision.

Jesus, standing next to her, being touched by her, it was almost as good as a fucking orgasm.

And I suddenly needed to know how much better coming inside Charlie would feel.

“Forty minutes back to the city,” she said, teeth scraping down my throat, mouth latching onto the hollow at the base, tongue lapping as she sucked; sending a shot of adrenaline straight between my legs.

“Long way on the back of a bike,” I rasped as her hand slipped behind my belt - somehow she’d unbuckled the fucker and unzipped my pants in the process - and hot little fingers wrapped around my rock hard erection.

Oh, fuck me.

“Too long to wait,” she complained as she stroked and squeezed and kissed across my collarbone.

“Fuck,” I panted, eyes rolling back, body shaking. “Charlie,” I warned. Not here. Not spotlit at the end of a fucking wharf for any cocksucker in the vicinity to see. “We need to head to my place,” I managed and then bit back a groan as her thumb danced across the head of my dick.

I lifted heavy lids and stared down at her; this woman who threw caution to the wind, grabbed life and rejoiced in it, didn’t follow rules or was confined by expectations, just did what she pleased, when she pleased, where she pleased and with whomever she fucking well pleased.

I felt astounded that she’d chosen me. I felt awash in a multitude of emotions; ecstasy, joy, pride, shock. Awe. I’d had my fair share of women before; I get by. But never had I experienced such urgent hunger and thirst for a woman as I did with Charlie Downes. Never had I met a woman who commanded attention just by existing, breathing, smiling.

She wasn’t smiling now; she was focused, determined. She pulled back, slipping off the railing and somehow manoeuvring me until my back hit wood. And then she looked down at where her delicate hand fisted my cock, licking her plump red lips, lashes lowered over flushed cheeks; desire evident in her appraisal.

“Charlie,” I said again, fuck knows what I was about to add. Maybe a reminder we were in the open. Maybe a suggestion we cool it and head back to the bikes. Maybe a plea for her to take this where I lacked the courage to go on my own, right then.

I’d set out to have her. No denying. I’d pushed the rule book aside, ignored my conscience and decided she would be in my bed tonight. But we were forty minutes away from my bed. The sea breeze was picking up, clouds rolling in, rain heavy on the horizon. And there she was, eager, desperate, craving just like me.

And here I was with my pants open, my cock in her hand, and a hickey forming on the side of my neck.

Fucking hell, this woman was definitely lethal.

She glanced around. It was almost cursory, but I could tell - God knows how, but I could - that one look had allowed her a complete assessment of our fucking predicament. I expected her to pull back, shrug her slender shoulders, bite her bottom lip and make a comment about bad timing. But she flicked those sexy as fuck smoky, grey eyes up to mine, tilted the edge of her lips in a wicked smile, and then…

Fuck me, she was on her knees and my cock was in her mouth.

“Jesus!” I all but screamed. “Charlie! What the fuck?”

Oh, fuck yeah. That’s what the fuck.

The wharf was forgotten. The beach and the row of houses across the road gone. The carpark not more than ten metres away and the possibility of late night park-ups watching through their own steamed up windscreens disappeared, as the most magnificent woman I had ever met sucked and licked my dick as she fondled my balls.

Holy fucking shit was right.

I forced myself to watch. Christ, if I was getting a public blow-job I sure as hell wouldn’t be the only one to miss seeing it. Her eyes latched onto mine as her lips, spread wide by my cock, slid up and down my length. It fucking gleamed in the moonlight. Spittle shining like fairy fucking dust; magical and such a freaking turn on.

She hummed when I moaned. Her hand at the base of my cock sliding up in a tight squeeze that almost sent me shooting to the stars. And then with a twist of her wrist, a bob of her head, I hit the back of her throat without warning.

I blame the sudden change of position and that freaky little unexpected spin through her hot palm for what happened next.

My hands came out, unclasping from their desperate clutch of the railing at my sides, and tangled in the long strands of her hair. Fingers wrapped up in strips of honey and gold, ruby lips taking my very soul. She moved her own hands to my thighs, gripped tightly, dug her fingernails into my leathers, no doubt leaving marks there just as she was somehow leaving marks on more of me than my skin, my flesh, my body.

I groaned. She hummed; the vibration sparking a tightening in my balls.

And then she took me deep. Deeper than before. So fucking deep I felt beyond the back of her throat; it was her fucking tonsils I could feel massaging me for all I could tell, and I took it. What she offered. On the wharf at Maraetai Beach where any late night prick walking their dog could happen upon us and watch.

Maybe that’s what made this whole experience extraordinary. I’ve had my fair share of public fornicating fun in the past; youth and booze mainly the sidekicks. And I remember them being good, special. So it had to be that. Because I only met this woman today. This morning. And tonight she was on her knees before me, sucking my cock, letting me fuck her mouth, humming as though it was me giving her something to be fucking ecstatic about.

And I wanted more. Not just more of this moment. Not more titillation and exhibition and what was turning out to be the best oncoming orgasm of my life.

But more of her.

One day. One day Charlie had been in my life and I had the disconcerting feeling she’d altered it forever.

One fucking day.

I rocked forward one last time. She took me, as though it was her sole goal in life to swallow me whole.

Fuck. The orgasm blinded me.

Panting and not just a little fucking dizzy, I looked down at her and felt the wharf tilt on its side. That, or I was about to pass out from lack of blood to the head. She smiled. Licked those fucking spectacular lips. And then smoothly came to her feet in a sensual cat-got-the-cream glide.

“Race you back,” she whispered. What? I could hardly move.

“Hey,” I said, before she got too far away. I pushed off from the railing when she spun around on her heels and started walking backwards toward the road. I followed. How could I not? The warm sea air against my damp dick interrupted my puppy dog routine and made me realise I was still flying free. I tucked myself back in and made myself decent.

Ha! No such fucking luck any more.

“Is that it?” I asked, communication skills misfiring like so much else this evening it seemed.

“Hardly,” she said, moving farther away. Then she spun around and started to pick up speed, but I could have sworn I heard her say, “Just getting a head start, stalker.”

Stalker. I shook my head, a grin forming on my lips.

Then took off after the woman with every intention of hunting her down before the night was through.

I always catch my prey.

Besides, I had the keys to her limited edition Diavel Titanium.

Unfortunately, I wasn’t entirely sure what keys Charlie held of mine. Somehow I didn’t think they belonged simply to my bike.