Corrupted--A Scorching Hot Romance

by Cathryn Fox

  Across the hall I hear the shower running, and I try not to picture the hot water streaming down her gorgeous naked body and beading on her tight nipples. Is she touching herself, running her hands over her curves and wishing it was me caressing her, the way I dreamed about back in college? Jesus, when her nipples swelled tonight my mouth watered for a taste, and my dick damn near ripped through my zipper.

  Why am I putting myself through this kind of torture? Didn’t she hurt me enough already? Agitated, I kick off my pants and boxers and take my dick into my hand as I stomp into the en suite bathroom. It’s been a long time since I’ve abused myself but I believe that dry streak is about to come to an end tonight. Either that, or I hit the local pub and find myself a willing woman, one who understands I only do one-night stands. Not that some random stranger would suffice now, not after spending time with Londyn.

  Stick it to me.

  I turn on the shower, lather my cock under the hard spray and in minutes I’m spurting into the stream. Jesus, when was the last time I came so fast? I scoff. Londyn screwed me over in a lot of ways, and now she’s turned me into a damn hormonal teenager again.

  You should have walked away tonight, dude.

  But no, I couldn’t leave well enough alone, now could I? I turn the water off and knot a towel around my hips. You’d think I’d be feeling a measure of relief but my dick is still standing at full attention. I tug on a fresh pair of boxers and climb between the sheets. Outside the near full moon shines in through my open curtains, and I wonder if she’s in her bed, staring at the same moon, thinking of me the way I’m thinking of her.

  I spend the next two hours tossing and turning. The creaking of Londyn’s bedsprings is a sure sign she’s as restless as I am. But as I think about her alone in that big bed, in a strange place, my heart squeezes, softens around the edges. She’s a bad sleeper even when she’s in familiar surroundings. There is probably no chance in hell she’ll relax enough tonight to drift off. Come morning she’ll be exhausted.

  So, what are you going to do about that, Cason?

  The bottom line is this: I brought her here, which means I’m responsible for her. I might be an asshole but contrary to what she thinks, I’m not a fucking ogre. Yeah, I’m ruthless in business, but I do not feed on the souls of innocent children.

  I kick off the covers, and follow the path of the moon to my bedroom door. I twist the knob and listen for sounds as I quietly pull my door open. Silence meets my ears, and I wait a moment longer. Maybe this is a bad idea. Fingers wrapped tightly around the doorknob, I’m about to close my door again and head back to bed when the sound of her springs squeaking reaches my ears. I pad quietly across the floor, and find her door slightly ajar. I peek in and chuckle silently. In typical Londyn fashion, her sheets are kicked off and tangled around her feet. She’s a hot mess and never looked more inviting.

  I inch the door open. “Londyn,” I say quietly as I walk across the floor, the boards groaning beneath my weight.

  “Cason?” she says, rolling over. Flat on her back, I can make out the shape of her body, and I take a moment to admire her generous breasts hugged by a tight T-shirt. Her cotton nightclothes are far from sexy, but I somehow want her more.

  “Roll over,” I command in a soft voice, and she hesitates, her brow furrowed as her eyes lock on mine. My heart tumbles and I pinch my eyes shut for a brief second to slow it down.

  “What’s going on?” she asks, her voice husky and deep, her lids fluttering rapidly.

  “You need sleep and I’m going to help.”

  “Are you...” She hesitates, but she doesn’t need to finish for me to know what she’s asking.

  “Yes. I’m sure.”

  I step toward her and a surprised little yelp catches in her throat as she rolls, and aims her sweet ass my way. Damned if I don’t want to slide those shorts down her legs and help her relax with my mouth...my fingers. I lift the blankets, and gently fix the sheets around her shoulder before crawling in behind. Her soft body relaxes against mine, and I nuzzle my face into her hair, breathing in the fresh scent of her shampoo.

  After a long moment, she breaks the quiet, “Cason...”

  “Shh, everything is okay. Go to sleep,” I say. Tonight isn’t about sex. I refuse to give in to the demands of my body. It’s against host rules but, more important, I’m afraid if I do, I’ll fall for her a second time. I care about her, yes. I can’t deny that. But I can’t, under any circumstance, love her again. She gutted me, and no matter how many millions my businesses are worth, I’m still the unwanted, unlovable boy from the wrong side of the tracks. Her father would see me dead before he’d see my ring on her finger. Not that I care what he thinks, but Londyn does. For as long as I’ve known her, she’s been starved for his approval, but she should stop trying to please him. He’s never going to give his approval until she marries a man of his choice and becomes a dutiful wife, and to be honest that’s just fucking sad.

  She takes a deep breath, lets it out slowly and softens against me. I pull her in tighter, and put my arm around her to hold her close, much the same way I used to do back in college. Her breathing changes, slows, and just when I think she’s asleep, she speaks.

  “Thank you,” she says in a groggy voice, seconds before her body completely settles against mine.

  “You’re welcome,” I whisper. As my words fall on deaf ears, my traitorous heart misses a beat. I swallow against a tight throat, and gently blow a strand of long blond hair from my face. My lids fall shut and the next thing I know, light from the rising sun slants into her room, pulling me awake. Jesus, when was the last time I slept so soundly? With my arm still around her—hard to believe neither of us moved through the night—I slowly lift my head to check the clock on the nightstand. I didn’t bother bringing my phone in with me, didn’t bother setting any kind of alarm. My routine is set in stone, and my internal clock is pretty good at waking me. But there was nothing normal or repetitive about yesterday, which is why it’s an hour past my regular wake-up time.

  I slowly inch away, not wanting to wake her, and she makes a sexy little noise of disappointment. I tuck her back in, and stand over her for a second. My heart beats double time against my chest as I take in her beauty. This morning her face is free of makeup, and dammit that natural, girl-next-door look works on her. She used to always wash her face clean before I tucked her in and stayed with her until she drifted off. I always loved this side of her, and I’m pretty sure I’m the only guy she ever let see her that way.

  Walking on my tiptoes, I head to my room, and my heart is somewhere in my throat as my brain dredges up old memories. I tug on my jeans and check my phone for messages. A few business calls that can wait until later, and one from Peyton. What would she think if she knew Londyn was here with me—that I bought her at a damn auction? She’d probably lose her mind. She’s the only one who really knows me, the only one I let see the pain under the easygoing facade I present to the world.

  I shoot her a text back, letting her know I’ll see what I can do about setting her up with a good guy from Penn Pals in the New Year, and take the stairs quietly. In the kitchen I put on a pot of coffee and look out the window. The water is calm today, a good day to take the catamaran out. The dock is decorated for the season, each post sporting a festive wreath. Last night Londyn picked at an old wound when she brought up Christmas. It’s not right for me to keep her here over the holiday, but she doesn’t seem in any hurry to leave. She can say she hates Christmas as much as I do, but I call bullshit. There is a part of that girl that has “white picket fence and a big house full of kids” written all over her.

  I dig eggs and bacon from the fridge, and when the coffeepot beeps, I pour a big mug and take a generous sip.

  “Save some for me.”

  I spin at the sound of Londyn’s voice. The second I set eyes on her, my heart stops beating, all the need from last night bubbling
to the surface. Her hair is a mess, her eyes wide but still sleepy and those lush, bee-stung lips are slightly parted, like they’re desperate to be kissed. I instantly harden, and I fight for a measure of control, but it’s fraying along a finely stitched seam like a sail caught in a windstorm. How can I possibly hide what she does to me?

  What if I don’t want to anymore?

  Her pink tongue snakes out, and she swipes it over her bottom lip. I curl my fingers before I grab a fistful of her hair and tug, until her mouth is poised open for mine. Sensations pulse through my body, effectively cutting each threadbare edge of my control.

  She makes a small move, but I’m right there, right there on her until we’re standing toe to toe, our bodies aligned, our knuckles brushing.

  “Last night—” she begins, and I cut her off.

  “Did you sleep well?”

  She runs her fingers through her mess of hair, and a laugh catches in her throat. “I can’t remember the last time I slept that well, actually.”

  “No?” I ask, self-preservation a thing of the past, as my other head, the one farther south, starts calling the shots. My gaze drops to her mouth. I want to taste her in the worst way.

  “Well, maybe I can,” she says.

  “Yeah?” I lean into her, breathing deeply.

  “The last time you stayed with me. You walked me back to my apartment, crawled in bed with me.” She sighs. “That was such a long time ago.”

  “Too long.” I lift my hand, and scrape the rough pad of my thumb along her bottom lip. Her eyes widen, like she’s startled by my touch. “A bit of toothpaste,” I explain.

  “Oh.” Heated blue eyes move over my face, then flick away. She looks down, a cascade of blond hair covering her disappointment. “I thought...”

  “What did you think?”

  “Nothing,” she says, her shoulders swaying slightly as she shakes her head. As her gaze shifts away, I drop my hand, let it graze her bare arm. She sucks in a fast breath, not at all unfazed by my touch. I shouldn’t like that. I shouldn’t want that. But I do, and I can’t do a damn thing about it. Tomorrow there might be regret, but today is different. Today holds all kinds of promise. Besides, I’m not going into this blind—like I did last time with her. I’m older, wiser and have learned from my mistakes.

  “The rules, remember,” I say.

  She looks at me through her lowered lashes. “You can’t touch me,” she responds, her voice soft, breathless, like she’s been running a marathon.

  I step closer. With our bodies only a hairbreadth away from intimate contact, I struggle to keep up my no-touching end of the contract. Heat and sexual need vibrate between us, and my dick reaches out to her, aches for her touch. Damned if the big guy doesn’t know what he wants. But I need her to make the first move. Yes, this is crazy and reckless, and could very well chip at the carefully constructed wall around my heart. But I can’t seem to stop myself.

  “That’s right,” I say and hold my arms up, palms out. “You’re hands-off, Londyn.”

  She angles her head, and her hair falls off her shoulder, exposing the long column of her neck. That’s where I want my mouth first, right there in that soft nook. After I press warm openmouthed kisses to her flesh, and fill my lungs with her scent, I’ll work my way down to her full breasts, her stomach, the spot between her legs that is undoubtedly flushed with heat and beckoning my tongue. Fiery warmth radiates off her in waves, cocooning me in a blanket of need. It’s a battle I can’t fight...can’t win.

  “What about if I touch you first?”

  My throat closes over as she plays this game with me. Yesterday I might have been sending mixed signals, wanting her in my bed but fighting every second of it. Today I’m pretty sure my actions and words are crystal clear. I want to corrupt this sexy woman, do all kinds of depraved things with the little rich girl. None of which stem from revenge.

  “I believe that’s allowed,” I say.

  “That’s what I’ve been told, too.”

  “Londyn...”

  “Yeah.”

  Walk away, Cason. Run.

  “Touch me.”

  Fuck.

  She takes a measured step closer, like she, too, is starved for my touch, and her hard nipples press against my bare chest. Yes! Grinning, like she holds all the cards—and she damn well knows she does—she moves slightly, rotating her curvy hips and scraping her gorgeous buds over my flesh. The resulting growl that climbs out of my throat elicits a soft, yet urgent little moan from her. Slowly, deliberately she moves against me. Well shit, I never knew she was a sexual tease. We never got that far in our relationship before.

  “How about this?” she murmurs, her voice soft and needy, but in the far depths I catch a hint of playfulness. I forgot how much I liked the lighthearted side of her. She so rarely showed it. But if she wants to play with me today, I’m game.

  “I’m not sure that would be considered touching,” I explain. “Not to the club’s definition, anyway. They’re a stickler for details, or so I’ve heard.”

  “Oh, okay.” She looks up and to the left, like she’s in deep concentration. “Will this work?” As mischief tugs at her mouth, she goes up on her toes, moves her hips closer, until our sexes are aligned. I nearly come in my jeans.

  Sweet mother of God, the heat radiating off her core nearly does me in, but I bite the inside of my jaw to maintain control.

  “Oh, it works,” I say through clenched teeth. “But I’m afraid it still doesn’t quite fit the definition of touching.”

  The soft pads of her fingers circle my nipple. “Would you consider this touching?”

  I try not to flinch under the warmth of her soft fingers, and resist the urge to grab her hips and pull her body to mine. I clear my throat. “Close but still questionable.”

  She takes a step back and frowns. “This is rather hard.”

  I cup her elbow, tug her back to me, and our bodies collide. I groan as my dick presses against her stomach “Yeah, very hard,” I say, and her soft chuckle curls around me, massages my aching balls.

  Her cheeks turn pink, her body flushed with the power she has over me. “I don’t know what it’s going to take to convince the club,” she says and nibbles on her bottom lip in a way that makes my dick throb. I want to be the one biting her...everywhere.

  “I never thought you were the type of girl to give up so easily.”

  “I’m not,” she murmurs. “I’m just considering my options.” She leans forward and places a soft kiss on my shoulder. I vibrate beneath her warm, wet mouth. She inhales deeply, breathing in the soapy scent of my skin, and her moan of approval rocks my world. If she doesn’t soon touch me, I’m going to lose my damn mind. Her tongue snakes out, and she runs it along my flesh. I quiver, and it’s all I can do to keep my hands fisted at my sides.

  She continues to press warm kisses to my flesh, like she’s lost in tasting me, and I suck in a fast breath. Big blue eyes lift, blink up at me.

  “Do you think the club would consider this touching?”

  “It’s possible, but there could be room for argument,” I manage to get out.

  She stands to her full height, confidently reaches out, and places her hand over my aching cock, giving it a firm massage in my jeans.

  “How about this, Cason? I believe there is no mistaking this for anything but me touching you.”

  “I believe that just might be the magic touch,” I say, and slide my hand around the back of her neck. I hold her tightly and dip my head.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Londyn

  HE HAULS ME against him, hovering over me, his strength and stature making me feel small against his big athletic frame. I crane my neck to see his face, welcoming him to my mouth—to my body—but he’s no longer looking for permission. No, he’s taking over, calling the shots and while this is probably a mistake, my lust-rattled
brain currently doesn’t give a shit. His lips find mine, but not in a gentle exploratory kiss meant to introduce our bodies to one another. No, his kisses are hungry, ravenous, devouring me with a need I’ve never before experienced, and have only ever fantasized about.

  I kiss him back and his hot mouth tastes like mint, coffee and...filthy sex—the kind I’m suddenly desperate for, but want with this man only. My sex tightens, and clenches for something to grip on to as I moan, boldly push my hips forward, wanting more, all of him. His breathing changes, becomes labored as he shifts positions, pulls me against him harder, and as his greedy tongue roughly tangles with mine, I ask myself one question.

  Is this really happening?

  Last night, after he abruptly shut down my seduction, leaving my ego bruised and my body needy, I figured come morning he’d send me home. Yes, there is an insane chemistry between us, enough to light up every Christmas tree along the harbor front for a month straight, but he walked away, making it painstakingly clear he wasn’t going to act on our sexual pull. I’m not sure what changed his mind, and right now, with the way he’s kissing and touching me, it’s not the time to examine this unexpected turn of events. No, now is the time to just simply enjoy.

  The soft bristles on his chin burn my face, eliciting a hot, rippling rush over my flesh. Restless, and so damn needy, a sound rumbles in my throat and I don’t try to hide it. He shoves a knee between my thighs, presses it firmly against my sex. I rotate my hips, and slide my arms around him, reveling in the feel of his hard muscles, thicker now that he’s grown from a boy into a man.

  “That’s it. Ride my leg,” he growls into my mouth. I rub my clit against solid muscle, riding him boldly. Honestly, I’ve never been this shameless with my needs before. But the sinful way Cason touches, encourages me, brings out a side I never knew existed, and no way am I going to try to leash it now. Not when this is so much fun, and so deliciously dirty.

  I run my fingers over his chiseled body, and deep between my legs I grow wet. My nipples swell, ache for his touch, his mouth, his greedy tongue. Good God, I’ve never needed anyone the way I need him right now. It’s terrifying, and exhilarating all at once.