Forbidden Desires

by Jenna Hartley

  Kyla,” he repeats. His husky voice is like a flint, causing all kinds of sparks to ignite. “Nice to meet you.”

  “You too, Mason,” I say, letting his name roll off my tongue.

  “How long you here for?”

  “A few days, you?”

  He takes a sip of his drink. “Same.”

  I glance out at the jewel tone water. In Miami, the Atlantic Ocean is a dark blue. Here, it’s a bright aquamarine color, and I can’t stop staring at it. I bring my attention back to him. “What do you plan on doing here?”

  He runs his eyes over my body once again. “That depends…”

  “On?”

  “You.”

  I blush. Not really sure what to say to that.

  He shifts in his seat to face me. “I have an idea,” he starts, “since I’m here alone…”

  I gaze at his lips, watching him say the words.

  “...and you’re here alone.” He moves closer. “Have dinner with me.”

  I chew on my bottom lip. That frayed thread holding back my emotions snaps inside me, and I decide to live life with reckless abandon, or stupidity. “Ok,” I agree.

  We finish our drinks, and before leaving him at the bar, I brazenly tell him I’ll knock on his door in an hour.

  Back in my hotel room, I shower and then dress in the slinky coral cocktail dress and nude heels I brought to wear for the first night. Drowned memories of wearing this dress at Colin’s company party, and how he couldn’t get it off fast enough when we returned home, rise to the surface, gasping for life. None of that, I remind myself, dabbing on some gloss.

  I leave my blonde hair in soft waves, grab my clutch, and head toward what might be a mistake.

  A crowd of people, smelling like suntan lotion and surf, swarm the elevator when I get off on the sixth floor. A tow-headed little girl darts by me and her mom chastises her before her dad swoops her up into his arms. My chest burns watching what I can’t seem to have as I follow the numbers down the gold-carpeted hallway to room six-fourteen.

  I knock, and when the door opens everything is forgotten when I’m assaulted by skin. Lots of golden, lean-muscled skin in a white towel wrapped low on his hips.

  “Hey,” Mason greets me.

  “I, uh, take it you’re going casual?”

  A few water droplets trail slowly down his muscle-clad pecs. “Sorry, I’ll just be a minute.” He moves aside. “Come in.”

  I’d have to be an idiot not to see the carnal look in his eyes as his gaze roams lazily down my body, making me feel like he just removed what I’m wearing. Not going to lie, I do the same to him before stepping inside to a large suite identical to mine with the endless ocean crashing outside the wall of glass.

  “Enjoy the view,” he says with a slight smirk, before heading toward the bathroom.

  And the view is spectacular. Broad shoulders and lean muscles lead down to a perfectly curved ass attached to long legs.

  Trying not to gawk at him, I study the photos of palm trees and wicker rockers on porches on the walls. Not near as interesting as him. He’s sexy fresh out of the shower. I always liked Colin right out of the shower. It’s weird, I know, but there’s just something about heated skin, wet hair, and overall cleanliness that does something inside my chest. I’d forgotten how much of an aphrodisiac it was until now. Forgotten how much I haven’t felt, until now.

  He closes the door, and I suck in a deep breath.

  I can do this. Then again, maybe not.

  His sex appeal is on full display when he exits the bathroom in black slacks and a pristine white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up just enough to expose the arm porn. He pockets his wallet and key card and then we head up to the resort’s expensive restaurant, located atop the hotel, and grab an intimate table with a view of the water.

  “It’s beautiful here,” I say to him, looking out at the pink-painted sky and the waves lapping along the shore.

  “Yes, it his,” he replies, not taking his eyes off of me.

  This is so not me. I’d never meet a stranger under these circumstances and throw caution to the wind. Divorce will make you do crazy things though.

  Normally, I wake up, clean, sequester myself in my office at home to work on websites I design, cook dinner, and that’s about the extent of my day.

  On the weekends, Colin and I used to enjoy each other’s company. We used to go out for dinner and dancing, and take long walks in the park near our home. We couldn’t get enough of each other. Those days are long gone now.

  I’m pretending none of that matters; to hell with it. I vow to myself not to question anything for the next few days, and just go with the flow. I am water. Right before I left, Noel instructed me not to think about my husband and what used to be while on my trip. So, I push thoughts, memories, and everything from my past deep down and try to enjoy the moment here with Mason, the sexy stranger before me.

  We chat for a while, nothing but superficial things, and it’s easy. It’s fun pretending I’m someone I’m not. His attention has been solely on me, and I have to say I’m loving every bit of it. So much, I drink one too many frozen cocktails with fruity names.

  “Tell me why someone as beautiful as you is here alone?”

  “I’m going through a divorce.”

  He blinks. “Ouch.”

  I was probably supposed to say something lighter and flirtatious, but the alcohol has loosened my tongue. I nod, taking one more sip of my fruity concoction. “My therapist thought I should come here.”

  He doesn’t smile. “Therapist, huh?”

  I wave a hand. “I’m not crazy, promise.”

  Now his smile breaks loose. “I didn’t think you were. Just maybe lost?”

  I stir the melting drink into a mini whirlpool. “I’m very lost. I think.” Another sip. “What about you?”

  He rubs the stubble on his chin. “I’m not lost. I’m right where I need to be.”

  He’s better at this than I am. The wind picks up, skating through my hair, making my insides tense with longing. My nipples harden underneath the thin lacy material of my dress. “And where’s that?”

  He pays the bill, and grabs my hand. It feels good to have my hand held again. “No telling. I’ll show you.”

  He leads me to the elevator and caution swells inside me, bubbling to the surface. Should I really be doing this?

  The lift dings, and the doors slide open.

  “After you,” his deep voice says.

  How can anyone sound that sexy?

  It’s been so long since I’ve been aroused just by a deep voice and a smile. But, it’s happening. I step into the elevator, moving away from him to stand in the corner.

  “I don’t bite,” he says with a smile that could crumble nations.

  “Unless I want you to?” I ask, seeing if he was going to say the lamest, most cliche, comeback.

  He holds up both hands. “Hey, you said it. Not me.”

  I giggle. He’s cute.

  Then, he sucks all the air out of the elevator when he steps closer to me. I can’t breathe. I don’t think I even want to breathe anymore, I just want him to keep getting closer.

  The doors close, and he hits a button. I don’t even know which button, nor do I care, because I’m too focused on the intensity in his baby blues.

  Best eye color award goes to him.

  Best heart attack moment as well when he rests his palm against the wall next to my head, and my heart stops beating. Literally. You may think I’m speaking figuratively, but literally, my heart skips a beat. Maybe it’s a palpitation brought on by him.

  Then his other arm goes up, boxing me in. He leans in, his nose almost touching mine. “Do you want me to bite, Kyla?”

  I swallow.

  “Uhh…” is all that comes out of my mouth because his close proximity has rendered me virtually speechless.

  He steps back, dropping his arms as if he wasn’t under the same spell of attraction. “It’s settled. There will be biting.
”

  The elevator doors swoosh open, and Mason holds out his hand for me to take.

  And I do.

  Chapter 2

  Mason

  * * *

  I’m not going to fuck her just yet. It takes every ounce of restraint I have not to take her back to the room. But that’s not the plan. There’s a bigger goal here, and I need to be patient.

  “I’ve never done this sort of thing,” she informs me as we step from the elevator into the lobby of the resort.

  “What sort of thing?” I ask for clarification.

  “A fling.”

  “A what?”

  Her light eyes glance up at me as we walk out onto the main street of Cozumel. “You heard me. This is like a lesson in Flingology. Rule number one, no names.” Her brow furrows as we walk. “I forget the other rules.”

  “Flingology, huh? Is that a book?” I ask, raising a brow.

  “Just something I read somewhere.”

  “Ah.” I glance around, taking in the lights of Cozumel. “Maybe we make our own rules?”

  She bats her thick eyelashes. “Maybe. How about no personal information?”

  “I like that rule.” I want to kiss her right now, bad.

  “Hm, let me think, Mason…” She taps her chin with her coral-tipped nail, thinking of another rule.

  For a moment I wonder who Mason is, and then realize that’s the fake name I gave her. I cut in, “How about anything goes?”

  Her eyes meet mine. “Ok,” she barely says.

  This works for me. I’ll most likely break every rule there is, because this woman is already doing crazy things to my body. Her pebbled nipples peeking through her dress have me ready to suck them into my mouth. But, I keep it together—barely.

  “That’s not just the alcohol speaking, is it?”

  “I’m not drunk,” she holds up a few fingers, “Girl Scout’s honor.”

  “Are you a girl scout?”

  She winks. “I was once.”

  Great reminder to tie the knot a little tighter later so she can’t escape.

  “We’ll keep it simple,” I say to her. “No real info about ourselves.”

  “And we have sex?” she asks, ever so innocently, ever so stunning with the moonlight playing in her blonde hair.

  I interlace my fingers with hers. “I would never make you do anything you don’t want to do.”

  “What if I want you to?”

  “Want me to what?”

  “What if I want you to do things to me I’ve never wanted to do before?”

  I stop walking. My dick pulses at the mention of doing things to her. Filthy things. “Then I’ll give you what you want.”

  She gazes up at me, pondering, and then a seductive smile spreads across her face. “I like that answer.”

  I’m all on board. I’m ready to lift the anchor and set sail. But again, not yet. Patience is a hard lesson to master. We still need foreplay.

  So, I ask her if she wants to go dancing. “I know a place off the beaten path.” A place we won’t be bothered. There’s a few dance clubs here in Mexico, and the concierge told me about one that isn’t packed to the brim with college kids.

  She agrees, and I hail a cab.

  On the short ride, she’s quiet, staring at the bustling city and I give her space, not wanting to come on too strong and scare her away.

  We arrive at the club, and thankfully, the man at the front desk was right about this place not crawling with college kids looking to get drunk and party. It’s chill and quiet, except for the reggae band playing island music on a small stage. Low lighting surrounds us as we weave through the people to a tiki bar in the back.

  “What would you like?” I ask her.

  “Just water.”

  I signal the bartender and once Kyla has her request in her hands, we glance out at the people on the dance floor. Her hips rock back and forth in a little seductive tease to the music as she sips her water.

  “Did you want to dance?”

  She nods, setting her Evian on an empty table, and I take her hand, leading her out to the middle of the dance floor. The music is soft, sensual, and soulful. I wrap an arm around her waist and sway my hips in tune with hers. I haven’t danced with a woman in so long, I feel like I’ve almost forgotten how.

  The beat picks up a bit, and so does our rhythm. I let her set the pace, and my cock hardens with every swipe of her body against it.

  “I want you to touch me,” she says, her lust-filled eyes glancing up at me.

  I roam my hands over her, starting at her hips, and then slide one hand over her ass. “Where do you want me to touch you?”

  “My breasts. I want your hands on me.” She licks her lips. “I want you in charge.”

  And that’s all she needs to say.

  I pull her close, and run my hand up and over her tits. “Is this what you want?” I ask, my voice dropping an octave.

  “Yes. I want you to make me feel good.”

  She’s eager—hungry for my touch—and that thought excites me. Just feeling her tits through her dress has me wanting to rip it off. My dick pulses with need, and she is the only woman who will satisfy it.

  I reach under her chin, tipping her face up just a bit. “I make all the rules tonight, deal?”

  She swallows. “Deal.”

  “I can do whatever I want to you, yes?”

  She blinks. “Yes.”

  My dick is painful, and ready to pound away inside her. But not yet. Fuck, this is hard pretending.

  There’s an unlit hallway off the dance floor, hidden from the rest of the club, and I lead her in that direction. We’re alone in the dark as I move her down the long corridor, keeping a hand on the small of her back.

  “Against the wall, Kyla.”

  She complies, and I can see the faint outline of her body on display for me. I close the distance and lean in a whisper away from her mouth. Her fruity breath comes out in little pants. And then, I have no more patience. I kiss her, meeting her lips for the first time tonight. She tastes like heaven and hell in a battle of all time. And I’m not quite sure who will win.

  Her tongue glides along mine, and I rock into her, groaning, desperate to get closer.

  When I saw her at the bar, I couldn’t stop staring. I didn’t want her to leave. Something snapped inside me, and I knew I’d do whatever it took to have her.

  How dumb can a man be to let her slip through his fingers? Not me, I won’t let her slip through mine.

  I pull back, loving how she looks after she’s been thoroughly kissed. I want to see her thoroughly fucked too. That thought makes my heart thunder in my chest.

  “There’s so many things I want to do to you,” I tell her.

  She closes her eyes. “Do them all.”

  “I might hurt you.”

  Her eyes open, focusing on mine. “Do whatever you want.”

  Fuck. Just hearing those words tumble from her lips makes my dick rise, and my self control plummet.

  I turn her around, facing away from me. “Hands against the wall.”

  She obeys, and I run my hands down the sides of her body, then over her heart-shaped ass. I spank one cheek, and she moans.

  “You like being spanked?”

  “I’ve never been spanked before.”

  I spank her again. “Tell me you like it.”

  “I like it,” she says all breathless and shit.

  I spank her again, but this time on the other cheek. I lean close to her ear. “This is what happens if you’re a bad girl tonight.”

  Her head falls back, and I lick up the side of her neck, to the spot just behind her ear. “Are you going to be good for me.” I swat at her ass again. “Or do you want to be bad?”

  “I’ll be good,” she promises.

  I fall to my knees and roam my hands up her silky legs, to the inside of her thighs. Because she looks so damn delicious, I lick each one, nipping with my teeth at the soft flesh, and then spread her legs. Impatient, sh
e leans into the wall further, pushing her ass out just a bit for me.

  Not one person has walked down this hallway, and I’m grateful for that fact. I don’t want anyone watching what I’m about to do to her.

  I slip my hand underneath the hem of her dress, and run my fingers over the panel of her panties before I get rid of the flimsy obstruction and drag my fingers through her wetness.

  And, my fuck, is she wet.

  She mewls as my fingers find her clit, circling over her a few more times. And then, I pull her dress up, bringing her pussy to my mouth.

  She tastes so damn good, and I focus on her clit, pulling the skin between my teeth and pressing down lightly.

  She bucks her hips toward the wall, and I can’t get enough. I yank her a bit closer, bringing her heat down on my face, and lick my tongue from her ass to her clit and back again. She moans when I plunge a finger inside her to the knuckle, and I keep eating her out while my finger fucks her.

  She’s driving me insane the way she pants and moves her body back and forth against my face, and I add another finger to her tight little pussy.

  “Oh God, I’m going to come.”

  I push my fingers deeper inside her, really fucking the hell out of her as I continue to tease her clit with my tongue until her orgasm hits and her sweet pussy clenches my fingers.

  When she’s sated, I stand, lowering her dress around her.

  She turns slowly, her satisfied eyes meeting mine in the dark. I like the dark, where she can’t see the war waging in mine. Her pussy was just the appetizer, the main course is coming soon.

  Chapter 3

  Kyla

  * * *

  Oh, wow. Let me say it again, for emphasis—oh, fucking wow. This man, with his magic tongue, can do whatever he wants to me tonight.

  I’m still reeling from my orgasm when Mason asks me if I want another dance. I do.

  The band is on a break and manufactured music pumps through the speakers as we make our way back to the dance floor. It feels safe in his arms, listening to songs of my past, as we move our bodies to Kenny Rogers, Jack Johnson, and Jimmy Buffett. He holds me close, singing the lyrics into my ear, sending shivers racing across my skin.