A Wildly Seductive Night
A Wildly Seductive Night
Lauren Blakely
1
He barely recognized the striking woman with the jet-black hair, but he intended to rectify that situation immediately.
Adjusting his lucky purple tie, he strode up the last wooden step to the top deck of the big boat, his eyes zeroing in on the woman in sky-high stilettos who stood by the rail, gazing at the water. Lights from the glorious Manhattan skyline twinkled across the inky black river, matching her hair. A sleek bob, the cut showed off a long, elegant neck that was prime real estate for kissing.
But then, surely her whole lush body, some of it hidden beneath the short black trench coat, was ripe for his mouth. Like those legs. Long, shapely, toned.
As the yacht bobbed along the Hudson, Clay Nichols crossed the distance of the private deck, stopping at the railing next to the beauty. They were alone. Pop music floated up from the main deck, along with the clink of glasses and hubbub of betting at the roulette table.
“Boats.” He rapped his knuckles on the rail, tossing out his conversational appetizer. “Underrated or overrated?”
She turned to him, giving him a full view of her face. Her gorgeous green eyes glinted playfully, and ripe lips hinted at a naughty smile. “I suppose that depends on what you’re rating them for,” she said, as if musing on the topic.
Ah, so she liked to banter. That would do just fine. He ran his hand along the silk of his tie as he drank her in, his eyes sliding down her face, settling on those lips.
“Most boats aren’t known for their speed,” he said.
“Unless we’re talking about speedboats,” she volleyed.
“Which this ship is not. And they aren’t exactly the most efficient at getting you from Point A to Point B.”
“Depends where Point B is.” She raised an eyebrow as she ran a finger along the top button of her light jacket, then down the front, all the way to the belt cinched tight at her waist. A summer breeze carried through the cooler night air.
“Point B is where I’m heading tonight,” he said, his voice confident, his eyes following her hand.
“Point B, you say?”
“Would you like to know what Point B is?”
“Perhaps I’ll find out soon.” She tilted her head. “What about adventure? How would you rate boats for that?”
“Some”—he lingered on the word—“can be playgrounds for adventure.”
“And perhaps for trouble then, too.”
He reached for the end of the belt on her jacket, fingering the material. “Why do I think you like both trouble and adventure?”
Raising her chin, she held his gaze. “I’m in the mood for adventure right now. How about you?”
“I’m equally adept at both.” His fingers traveled up the belt to the knot in the middle. He had no intention of untying it, though. Point B didn’t require the removal of clothing.
“What sort of adventure can a stranger like you have with a woman like me?” she asked, her breath catching for a second when he skimmed a finger across the exposed skin of her collarbone.
His palm found the back of her neck. A sweet little gasp escaped her lips. “I could tell you,” he murmured, leaning closer, “or I could show you.”
She grabbed his tie and tugged him closer. “What if I want you to do both?”
“Then, gorgeous, you’re about to get a big show and tell,” he said, because he was the kind of man who told his woman what he was going to do to her, and then he delivered on it. His free hand played at the hem of her skirt, ready, so goddamn ready to discover if she was bare beneath it. His dick sure hoped so. Then again, his dick had been ready the second his eyes had landed on her legs. Ready for what they hinted at—the treasure that lay between them.
“Tell me what you’ll do. How you want to get me off,” she whispered, her voice husky and inviting.
He appraised her, savoring the view from head to toe, her stunning face, her perfect tits, her legs that he knew looked spectacular bent over a chaise lounge, spread wide open, wrapped around his head—any-fucking-where. “You’re not the kind of woman who needs a man to get her off. But you’re the kind of woman who would love a man to bring her incomparable pleasure.”
“And you’re that man?”
He nodded, confidence surging through him. “I intend to drive you wild right now. To make you tremble and moan. To make you feel so goddamn good, it will be like the sky is breaking open when you come, and every single cell in your body will cry out in rapture. Is that what you want?”
Her eyes blazed with heat. “Those are fighting words, mister. Can you back them up?”
Lauren Blakely
1
He barely recognized the striking woman with the jet-black hair, but he intended to rectify that situation immediately.
Adjusting his lucky purple tie, he strode up the last wooden step to the top deck of the big boat, his eyes zeroing in on the woman in sky-high stilettos who stood by the rail, gazing at the water. Lights from the glorious Manhattan skyline twinkled across the inky black river, matching her hair. A sleek bob, the cut showed off a long, elegant neck that was prime real estate for kissing.
But then, surely her whole lush body, some of it hidden beneath the short black trench coat, was ripe for his mouth. Like those legs. Long, shapely, toned.
As the yacht bobbed along the Hudson, Clay Nichols crossed the distance of the private deck, stopping at the railing next to the beauty. They were alone. Pop music floated up from the main deck, along with the clink of glasses and hubbub of betting at the roulette table.
“Boats.” He rapped his knuckles on the rail, tossing out his conversational appetizer. “Underrated or overrated?”
She turned to him, giving him a full view of her face. Her gorgeous green eyes glinted playfully, and ripe lips hinted at a naughty smile. “I suppose that depends on what you’re rating them for,” she said, as if musing on the topic.
Ah, so she liked to banter. That would do just fine. He ran his hand along the silk of his tie as he drank her in, his eyes sliding down her face, settling on those lips.
“Most boats aren’t known for their speed,” he said.
“Unless we’re talking about speedboats,” she volleyed.
“Which this ship is not. And they aren’t exactly the most efficient at getting you from Point A to Point B.”
“Depends where Point B is.” She raised an eyebrow as she ran a finger along the top button of her light jacket, then down the front, all the way to the belt cinched tight at her waist. A summer breeze carried through the cooler night air.
“Point B is where I’m heading tonight,” he said, his voice confident, his eyes following her hand.
“Point B, you say?”
“Would you like to know what Point B is?”
“Perhaps I’ll find out soon.” She tilted her head. “What about adventure? How would you rate boats for that?”
“Some”—he lingered on the word—“can be playgrounds for adventure.”
“And perhaps for trouble then, too.”
He reached for the end of the belt on her jacket, fingering the material. “Why do I think you like both trouble and adventure?”
Raising her chin, she held his gaze. “I’m in the mood for adventure right now. How about you?”
“I’m equally adept at both.” His fingers traveled up the belt to the knot in the middle. He had no intention of untying it, though. Point B didn’t require the removal of clothing.
“What sort of adventure can a stranger like you have with a woman like me?” she asked, her breath catching for a second when he skimmed a finger across the exposed skin of her collarbone.
His palm found the back of her neck. A sweet little gasp escaped her lips. “I could tell you,” he murmured, leaning closer, “or I could show you.”
She grabbed his tie and tugged him closer. “What if I want you to do both?”
“Then, gorgeous, you’re about to get a big show and tell,” he said, because he was the kind of man who told his woman what he was going to do to her, and then he delivered on it. His free hand played at the hem of her skirt, ready, so goddamn ready to discover if she was bare beneath it. His dick sure hoped so. Then again, his dick had been ready the second his eyes had landed on her legs. Ready for what they hinted at—the treasure that lay between them.
“Tell me what you’ll do. How you want to get me off,” she whispered, her voice husky and inviting.
He appraised her, savoring the view from head to toe, her stunning face, her perfect tits, her legs that he knew looked spectacular bent over a chaise lounge, spread wide open, wrapped around his head—any-fucking-where. “You’re not the kind of woman who needs a man to get her off. But you’re the kind of woman who would love a man to bring her incomparable pleasure.”
“And you’re that man?”
He nodded, confidence surging through him. “I intend to drive you wild right now. To make you tremble and moan. To make you feel so goddamn good, it will be like the sky is breaking open when you come, and every single cell in your body will cry out in rapture. Is that what you want?”
Her eyes blazed with heat. “Those are fighting words, mister. Can you back them up?”