Eternal Bliss

by Bonni Sansom

  ETERNAL BLISS

  BONNI SANSOM

  ISBN 9781615088300

  All rights reserved

  Copyright 2012 Bonni Sansom

  This book may not be reproduced in whole or in part without written permission.

  For information:

  http://SizzlerEditions.com/Submission

  Sizzler/Submission Bondage

  A Renaissance E Books publication

  CHAPTER ONE

  "Come on! I have appointments all morning," Laine Peyton said, beating her hand on the steering wheel. God, she hated Atlanta traffic. This wasn't going to work. She would have to get off the interstate and go through the city. She edged her way over to the exit ramp with a minimum of six fingers and four derogatory statements, which was pretty good for a Monday.

  She pushed the button on her Bluetooth, and waited for her assistant Julie to answer. "Bliss, this is Julie, how may I help you?"

  Julie had an optimistic sing-song voice that could grate even the most optimistic nerves. Yet, somehow this morning, Laine found it comforting. This, of all mornings, would prove to be tougher than most. It should be her first wedding anniversary. She should be lounging on a beach sipping Mai Tai's next to her husband. Sighing, she brushed it off. Nothing she could do about it.

  "Jules, I'm running a bit late. Traffic's a nightmare."

  "Oh, it's okay. I have everything under control. Your first appointment is relaxing with a Mimosa and a fruit plate."

  "What would I do without you, Jules?" Laine craned her neck and tapped the brake, seeing her wet dream come to life. "Damn. I think I've just come." Laine whimpered, watching the fireman washing the fire engine. The sunlight filtered through the buildings just right, making a prism effect through the spray of water. "Jules, you are not going to believe what I've found at the end of the rainbow. Believe me, it's no leprechaun." His muscled back and arms bunched and flexed with the strokes of the brush. His golden skin was wet with perspiration beading and running in rivulets down the center of his back. He was the epitome of sex, a fantasy on two legs, an instant orgasm and a calendar picture to masturbate to.

  It'd been a year since she'd had sex, but her body remembered what horny felt like. It felt like her this very moment. Tight nipples strained against the fabric of her bra, wet heat dampened her panties and her clit begged to be touched. She clamped her legs together at the intense sensation, closed her eyes and that's the last thing she remembered.

  * * * *

  Washing the engine as he usually did, Kyle Logan heard what sounded like a tin can being crushed. Upon turning to look, that was exactly what it was. Some woman had just crammed her Prius up the tail of a bus.

  "Sonofabitch," he muttered, jumping into action. "Guys, we've got a T.A. out front," he yelled over his shoulder. The rush of adrenaline coursed through his veins as he reached the car.

  The woman wasn't moving. Her head lolled to the side and she had a nasty bruise forming on her right cheek from the airbag. He jerked open the door and checked for a pulse. Her moan, soft and low at his touch, sounded almost as if she were aroused. Shrugging, he dismissed it.

  Or at least he tried to.

  His dick showed no restraint getting hard as he stood over her. She was gorgeous, gold-brown hair hung in loose curls past her shoulders. The cheek that wasn't swollen was a beautiful shade of pink. Damn, such an innocent appearance his body wanted to tarnish. Her ample breasts were perfect and close to his hands, rose and fell with her breathing. He'd never reacted to a victim like this before, not once. Yet, here he stood, tending to a hurt victim with a hard on that rivaled the Eifel Tower. He shook his head, trying to focus and help her.

  What the hell is wrong with me?

  It was a good thing his turnout pants were so bulky or this could be all kinds of awkward. He clasped his hands around her neck, keeping her head stable. She moaned, mumbled something about Lucky Charms and then opened her eyes.

  "Fuck," he muttered. They were grass-green and wide. She was perfect. She even liked his favorite breakfast cereal. Hell, if she weren't parked under a bus and half conscious, he would've kissed her. "My name is Kyle and I need you to hold still for me."

  "What happened?" Her voice was shaky, but she sounded so sexy to him.

  "Ah, there you are. What's your name, sweetheart?"

  * * * *

  Laine swallowed hard and bit her lower lip. She was becoming fully aware now and remembering everything. No way was she admitting she'd almost come while watching him. And the last thing she wanted was for Mr. Orgasm to know her name after doing such a stupid thing.

  "Crap. You sorry son of a ... Ouch!" She winced as the pain shot through her head. It felt like she'd gone a couple of rounds in a boxing ring. The lump of flesh that used to be her right cheek throbbed in time with her heartbeat.

  Heat flooded her face. He'd seen the whole pathetic thing. A woman so horny and desperate, she'd crashed into ... damn, she couldn't remember what she'd crashed into.

  "Just hold still, sweetheart. We have a paramedic on the way. Can you tell me if anything else hurts besides your face?"

  "Yeah, my pride," she muttered. "I'm fine. You can let go of me now." His work-roughened hands felt so good on her skin. She could feel her damp need soaking her panties, even with her Prius attached to a city bus. The logo "Drive safely" on the back of the bus mocked her. Her gaze drifted up to the people glued to the back window staring down at her. Her Prius, she noticed, was totaled while the bus didn't even have the courtesy to be broken. She closed her eyes, wishing she could disappear. God, this was humiliating on so many levels.

  "Not exactly the best method of carpooling," she muttered.

  "Did you say something?" he asked, as his hand dropped to her abdomen. She could swear she felt the heat from his hand as he touched her. Her thighs quivered under his touch. He pushed down a bit asking, "Does this hurt?" She shook her head to answer. His hand cupped her chin. "Don't move your head. Just answer yes or no."

  "No."

  His hand moved higher and higher and with each feather touch, he asked if she hurt. Her answer was no, until the back of his fingers stroked the underswell of her breast. Her traitorous nipple puckered into a hard painful point, seeking out the source of pleasure. Unless he was an idiot, which she highly doubted, he'd noticed its plea for attention. She couldn't help the moan of pure pleasure that escaped her lips. His ice blue eyes stared at the errant little nipple. Damn, if only it were in his mouth. Her sex clenched at the thought. She had to get a grip on herself right now.

  His hand checked her abdomen on the left just as thoroughly as it had the right. This was heaven and hell all rolled into one. Either he was very meticulous or she was being felt up by Mr. Orgasm. She couldn't help but hope it was the latter. As his hand came back for yet another pass on her breast, she spotted him holding back a smile.

  Smug bastard, he was enjoying torturing her.

  She cleared her throat, drawing his attention to her face. He was so close and smelled so good. He was a mix of sweat, his natural musk, and a whisper of cologne. If she hadn't made a complete ass of herself ogling him, he would definitely be worth pursuing.

  The fact was, her Prius was now crammed up the ass end of a bus and people were staring. It was not the time to play dating games. No matter how horny she was. "I'm really fine. You can let go of me now," she repeated, hoping he would back off before her body melted into a puddle of want and need.

  "You were knocked unconscious. You could have internal injuries, sweetheart. I need to check you out," he said, waggling his brows.

  At his words her face flushed. How dare he call her sweetheart and feel her up. He probably had a girlfriend or a wife and yet, here he was taking liberties with her at her most vulnerable
moment. "Could you remove your hands please?" His smile was gone in an instant. She could see the haughty attitude in his eyes. "I feel sorry for your wife or girlfriend."

  Yeah, the one you hope doesn't exist.

  "I don't have a wife or a girlfriend," he snapped back at her.

  Hope flared inside her for a brief moment, until reality squashed it like a bug. Like the front of her car. "Lucky girl," she said.

  His brows drew together, confusion marring his features. "I just said I didn't have a girl."

  "That's why she's lucky." If she'd been trying to pour ice water on his efforts, that little barb had done it. His full lips had gone from kissable to hard lines, and he was radiating anger from every pore in his perfect body.

  "Look lady, I'm just trying to help you," he growled.

  "If it weren't for you," she poked him in the chest, "I wouldn't need any help," she raised her voice.

  "How in the hell do you figure that?" he asked. His brows drew together. "You ran smack into the back of a bus, lady. How is any of this my fault?"

  "Because you were out here looking all shirtless and sexy." Her hand slapped over her mouth. Crap, I can't believe I said that. And he actually smiled. "Dammit," she muttered under breath. Now she was an idiot for a completely different reason.

  She heard a voice from her left saying, "Coming through, Pete. I got her from here." Well, at least she now knew his name. Pete, the oh so gorgeous man, who inspires women to ruin perfectly good cars.

  What an ass. He's definitely a gorgeous ass, but an ass nonetheless.

  He moved from his crouched position in her door to let the paramedic through. Pete whispered something to the other man and stalked off. Whatever he'd said made the paramedic chuckle. They were all probably getting a good laugh at her expense.

  And you thought this day was going to suck because of the anniversary. Not even close.

  She should have stayed home and drowned herself in chocolate. But instead she had to go in and create other women's perfect dream weddings. It was her job after all. Her business, her life.

  "Hi, I'm Steve. Can you tell me what happened?" He had a nice warm smile and didn't resemble the ass in any way. She tried to recall what she had been doing before ogling Mr. Orgasm.

  "Julie. I was on the phone with Julie." The realization slammed into her. She had a client getting loaded on Mimosas in her office right this very moment. If the client hadn't left, deciding against designing her wedding at Bliss.

  After being thoroughly examined yet again, but in a more professional manner and refusing a trip to the hospital, Steve, the paramedic, turned her loose. She dealt with the police who gave her a nice little souvenir that would cost her a small fortune and cause her insurance to skyrocket. She found her cell, punched in the number for Bliss and was flooded with relief when Julie answered. Her usual sing-song voice laced with worry. Laine reassured her she was fine other than a nice bruise to her cheek. Julie took care of the tow truck, insurance and even called her a cab. And Julie Draffin would get a nice bottle of wine along with a hefty raise just as soon as she dug up all the dirt on Pete. She thought probably a little masochistic, but her body wasn't done with Pete.

  * * * *

  "No! Dammit! This isn't happening." The intense buzz of her vibrator had diminished to a slow click, click, click, and then nothing. Laine threw herself back on her pillow. The ceiling fan cooled the fine sheen of sweat covering her body. Just hours earlier, she'd met the man who'd inspired this attempted orgasm. Pete, the ass.

  She got out of bed in search of batteries. Maria, her housekeeper, would surely have some stashed somewhere. After pillaging all of the office and kitchen drawers she still had zip. No batteries anywhere. She trudged back to her room disappointed. She laid back down turning the television on. Something had to be on. She had to have some distraction to keep her mind off Mr. Orgasm.

  She sighed, frustrated. There was nothing on but infomercials. The "Shake Weight," was being advertised by sexy muscled men, none of which held a candle to Pete.

  God, why couldn't she stop thinking of him, stop feeling his hands on her, wishing there had been no barriers between them?

  Her clit was swollen, wanting, needing to be touched. The only problem was, she could never get off with just her fingers. She needed her clit stimulator, which needed the damn batteries.

  That's when she noticed what had been in front of her all along. Like a beacon in the night, her salvation ... she held the television remote in her very hand. The tiny remote just so happened to house two AAA batteries. She scrambled to get the cover off and popped out two little guarantees of relief. She loaded the batteries in her vibrator and switched it on. A nice loud buzzing noise filled the room. She lowered it to her clit, closed her eyes, and imagined Pete's hands on her, his mouth, his cock invading her core. She rubbed in circles, quickly picking up speed, undulated her hips in time with her pace. So close, so ... close.

  She felt her feet heating up, her toes curling, her body going rigid, until, "Nutrisystem, help me lose over forty pounds and keep it off." The tingle dissipated like an ice cold bath.

  She tried again doing her best to tune out the television she couldn't turn off. The tingle was back, the heat, the light sheen of sweat coating her skin. And then, "Call now! Nutrisystem is having its first fifty percent off sale ever. I lost sixty pounds and I've kept it off. If I can do it you can, too."

  "Dammit, shut up." She threw a pillow at her television, cursing it for the interruption. She knew she would never come now. Her clit had been over stimulated and was getting sore. She turned off her vibrator, got up and turned off the television, hitting the button just a little harder than was necessary. She crawled back in hoping for dreams of Pete.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Laine didn't exactly plan the little detour on her way to work, but she did want to see him again. Just a glimpse that was all she needed. It would be just enough to get her through the day. Unfortunately he wasn't out there, but the bus was. At least in her rental car she didn't have to worry about crashing. She'd bought the extra insurance that covered stupidity.

  She pulled into her parking space disappointed, but she did have her assistant Julie working like a private eye on the case. She hoped there would be enough to go on to make a move.

  She thought of sending an apology gift or a thank you gift; she thought both were appropriate. After all, he had tried to help her and she'd been more than rude to him. Maybe she'd invite him to dinner to apologize. Yes! That's perfect.

  He said he didn't have a girlfriend or a wife, so why not ask the man out for dinner. It was a socially acceptable thing to do nowadays. Most people found their spouses over the Internet, which Laine thought was too much like ordering a business suit without being fitted. It just wasn't done.

  She sat at her desk which was covered in wedding files and sticky notes from Julie. She reached for the notepad making a note to stop and buy a case of AAA batteries on her way home.

  She could have had Maria pick them up, but better to not have to answer too many questions. After all, the woman had been her nanny when she was a child. How embarrassing would it be to explain her vibrator malfunction to Maria? Laine loved the older woman like a second mother; she'd been with her family for twenty five years. Laine offered her a retirement package after her parents retired and moved to Florida, but she wanted to stay on living in the guest quarters.

  "Laine, I have a package of information I would like to go over with you," Julie said over the intercom. Julie had hit pay dirt.

  God, she was nervous. She felt her groin heat, causing a tingle to run up her spine. Just the thought of being alone with Mr. Orgasm made her sweat.

  Laine held the button down and said, "Come on in, Julie."

  Julie sauntered in looking perfectly coiffed as usual, her cinnamon brown hair up in a tight bun and her small, square glasses halfway down her nose. Julie was the perfect assistant, professional and classy. She was indispensible to Laine. She ha
ndled wedding crises better that anyone she knew and in the wedding business, there were far more crisis' than not.

  "Alright. This is what I found out about Pete," she said hesitantly, pulling a stack of papers out of a manila envelope. "You did say his name was Pete, correct?" Julie asked looking over her glasses at Laine.

  Laine's brows drew together. "Yes, I said Pete. Why?"

  Julie cleared her throat. "Well, the only Pete that works there is in his forties and looks like this." She shoved a photo I.D. toward Laine.

  Laine stared at the photo in disgust. The man was beefy and looked like he had a beer gut and several chins and a receding hairline. "Good Lord. That's not the Pete I met. There has to be a mistake. Maybe he's a new hire."

  "No. I checked for new employees. That particular house hasn't had a new hire in over four years. I think maybe you misunderstood his name. You had been unconscious."

  Maybe, she thought, but then she vividly remembered the paramedic, Steve, said Pete. Of that she was positive. "If we don't have too many clients lined up, would you pull the files on all of the employees please?"

  Julie nodded her head, wrote a note on the envelope, stood and left.

  Laine looked at the picture in front of her again and grimaced. Pete Sheldon was a forty six year old married fireman. She shuddered wondering what his wife thought of good old Pete.

  She put the picture down, hit the intercom button and called in her first client of the day.

  * * * *

  Kyle had had one hell of a morning, already getting an early call to a kitchen fire. Apparently you're not supposed to put butter on the bread before you stick it in the toaster.

  He shook his head. People could do really stupid shit, like the lady from yesterday. Had she not been a bumper sticker on a city bus, he might have asked her out. She sure was beautiful and sexy, although a bit snippy, but even so, she turned him on. Her feistiness made him want to take a hand to her backside and fuck that smart little mouth.

  He remembered what her body felt like under his hands and had to concentrate on something else quick before he got another hard-on. Having a boner in the bunkroom wasn't something he could conceal and the other guys would give him hell about it.