by Jade Allen
“Eric!” Cassie shouted, throwing one leg over his broad shoulder and grinding herself more firmly against the force of his tongue. She couldn’t believe how perfect his mouth felt on her body, and couldn’t imagine the kind of pleasure his member would send through her.
Eric pulled away from her suddenly as though he could read her mind. He placed his hands on her hips and lifted her until she sat on the counter, kissing her roughly as her hands fumbled at the clasp of his khakis. She could taste her own sweet essence on his tongue, and her hand moved eagerly over the hot thickness of his shaft as she pulled his cock free.
He didn’t waste any time. Eric held one hand behind her head as he pushed his round head inside Cassie’s warm velvety walls, and she cried out in ecstasy as his length stretched and filled her for the first time. It was like they were two interlocking puzzle pieces; every slow stroke felt perfectly tailored to her body, expertly crafted to push her toward her most delicious edge.
“Cassie,” Eric moaned, his thumb passing over her erect nipple as he slowly pumped between her thighs. “Oh god, you’re the most incredible woman.”
His strokes grew faster and harder, and Cassie could only whimper and tighten her arms around him as his body collided with hers. Pleasure was streaking through her muscles and enveloping her brain, carrying away all thought except the joyous sensation of his hips pounding into hers. Eric’s hand fisted in her hair, and Cassie cried out as her ecstasy reached its peak at the precise moment that her lover reached his.
“Cassie!” he moaned, throwing his body against hers with abandon. “I’m coming! I’m coming!”
Cassie arched her back and screamed wordlessly as the slick walls of her pussy tightened and pulsed around Eric’s thick, rigid shaft, his cries reaching a fever pitch as he exploded inside her. His mouth covered her breasts in wet kisses as they both twitched and moaned together, hips bucking together weakly to pull all the pleasure from each other’s bodies.
She didn’t have time to catch her breath before she was being carried to his bedroom and laid across the bed. He wrapped his arms around her naked body and gazed down at her, stroking her soft hair as she gazed at him wearily.
“Eric,” she said softly, her eyelids growing heavier by the moment.
He smiled. “Yes?”
Cassie took a breath. “I love you.”
His face went blank, and for a moment, Cassie feared he wouldn’t respond. “I love you, too,” he said finally.
Something in his tone made her open her eyes. He was starting to turn away, but she put a hand on his arm to top him. Eric was startled, but Cassie fixed him with a stare.
“Hey. What’s wrong?”
The look in his eye was of pure terror. “I didn’t think it would get this far,” he said.
Cassie frowned and sat up on the bed. “You mean…love?”
Eric covered his eyes with his hands, and Cassie’s heart started to sink in her chest.
“Oh, no,” she said quietly. “Do you have a girlfriend that I don’t know about?”
He looked up, his anguish interrupted by surprise. “What? No.”
Cassie shook her head. “Then what is it?” she demanded. Eric didn’t answer, so she took hold of his chin and reputed her question. “Eric. Something tells me you think I’m going to find out anyway, so tell me what it is. You just fucked my brains out; I think I’m in a good enough mood. Come on, did you find the person sabotaging your project already, and then hide it from me so you could get in my pants?” she grinned at him to show him that she was joking, but when the panic in his haze sharpened, her smile faded. “Oh, no. Oh, god…Eric. Have you been paying me so you could woo me?”
His silence gave her the answer.
“Eric, what the fuck?!” Anger coursed through her, and she felt her heart start to gallop in her chest. “How long have you known?”
Eric met her eyes briefly. “A long time.”
Cassie scoffed. “So who is it?”
Eric covered his hands with his eyes again, a small sound of despair escaping his lips.
Cassie went numb with shock. “Eric…no. It can’t be. It couldn’t be…”
He raised his green eyes to hers, and they were brimming with tears. “I’m sorry, Cassie. I didn’t mean for it to go this far.”
A bitter laugh burst from her mouth. “You sabotaged your own project for some ass, Eric? Are you fucking kidding me? You led me along just so you could fuck me?”
“No!” Eric said desperately.
“Then why?”
“Because I wanted to get to know you, Cassie,” he said, his voice pleading. “I wanted you to get to know me.”
“Good idea, except the part where you lied to me about everything!” she shouted, scooting away from him on the bed as he tried to reach for her. “I can’t be with someone like that, Eric—I can’t be with a liar.”
Eric was following her as she raced through the apartment and pulled on her clothes. “I was so impressed by you, Cassie, I just wanted to work with you. And then I fell in love with you. I didn’t mean to.”
Cassie laughed in his face as she pulled on her shirt. “Well, that makes it better. Have a nice life, Eric. Don’t call me. I’ll bill you.”
“Cassie!”
But she sprinted to the road and was flagging down a taxi by the time he caught up with her. Cassie sobbed in the back of the cab, unable to stop herself from watching Eric’s place growing smaller and smaller in the rearview mirror.
****
Cassie wasn’t sure how long it took her to stop crying. Hours maybe, or perhaps it was minutes. It was nightfall when she left her house again, and that was only to check the mail. She saw Eric’s silver Mercedes on the street and dashed back up before he could even leave his car.
She wasn’t sure what had hurt her more—that she’d been lied to, or that she’d fallen in love before she figured out. She kept going over the last few weeks in her mind, trying to find a warning or red flag that should have tipped her off. Cassie kept going back to their first serious conversation about who was sabotaging his company; once the truth comes out in a case like this, bonds can be broken and never repaired. How right she’d been.
By the end of the first week holed up in her apartment, Eric stopped calling, and his Mercedes couldn’t be found outside on the street any longer. Her relief was enormous—but she was surprised to find that she was more than a little disappointed, too. Had his love for her dried up so quickly?
Don’t be stupid, said a nasty voice in her head. He never loved you—he just wanted to get in your pants. Now that it’s over, he has no reason to try again.
She burned with rage at the thought of him simply losing interest in her and the body he’d ravaged so insatiably. Was she really so disposable to him? Cassie took another week off work and spent it wandering the streets aimlessly, bumping into walls and citizens at random as she tried to sort her jumbled thoughts and feelings. Cassie hated to admit it, but Eric had given her a purpose beyond professional—she’d felt important to someone for the first time in years. Maybe that was why she’d been so upset with him; not because she felt disposable now, but because she’d felt so invaluable before. Could it be possible that she liked feeling so desperately needed—so desired that a man would concoct a wild scheme just to get close to her?
Am I that crazy? She thought—and then: Do you have to be crazy to miss being madly in love? Maybe. Probably. Cassie pushed open a door without reading a sign, and her heart stopped when she realized where her legs had carried her: the bookstore where she’d first met Eric.
Definitely crazy.
Cassie’s heart felt strangely heavy as she strolled through the aisles, the cashier and bored shelf stockers ignoring her like they had the first time. There was The Joy of Sex, precisely where she’d picked it up last time. The arrangement of spines looked just as dusty as they had before, and when she turned toward the front of the store, she could swear Eric was standing right where she first laid
eyes on him. Then she did a double take, and her heart stopped.
“Cassie.”
Eric hurried toward her, and Cassie stood, rooted to the spot by the panic and heartache mingling in her chest. “Cassie, please, just let me say this.” He took her hands in his, aquamarine eyes shining with sincerity. “I’m sorry I lied to you. I should never, ever have lied to you. But you’re right—I have blind spots. Huge ones, put there by money and the privilege it brings. One of those blind spots kept me from realizing that all I had to do was be real with you—and let you come to me yourself.”
Cassie gazed up at him, her eyes wide and unblinking.
“I don’t have any common sense—but please, don’t let that scare you away from me. I’m willing to learn. I want to learn. And more importantly, I want to show you the way you make me feel—so you understand why I’m so damn taken with you.” Eric swallowed, and his Adam’s apple bobbed. “You make me feel like I’m the only one who matters on Earth…and I’m so used to putting that idea out of my head in favor of work or profit, that I didn’t realize I wanted and needed that kind of love so badly.” He squeezed his hands. “Do you know what I mean by that?”
Cassie finally opened her mouth to speak. “I think I do.”
Eric didn’t try to hide his surprise. “So…will you give me another chance?”
Cassie paused. His eyes were shining with such luster and love that she felt like she was being warmed by the sun from the inside out. She did know exactly what he meant—Eric was the only person immune to her shield of invisibility. Before him, she had no idea being seen could feel so good. Cassie pulled him down and pressed her lips to his hungrily, wrapping her arms around his neck as he slipped his hands around her waist and melted into the kiss.
When he pulled back, he looked dizzy and more than a little dazed. “So…that’s a yes?”
Cassie laughed. “Let’s run another test and see.”
THE END
Seduction On Eden Island
There was blood everywhere. It coated the walls, the floor--there were even spurts on the ceiling. Rayne held a double-ended canoe paddle in both hands and braced herself; this was not in the brochure.
Earlier…
Rayne had woken groggily on the private jet; she had slung back far too many gins and her head ached. Twenty four hours ago, she had sat at her cubicle mopping smudged mascara, trying to explain to a group of disgruntled accountants why all the fridge contents had to be cleaned out the previous day.
“There were intelligent life forms growing in that petri dish of yours. We had no other choice but to abide by OSHA regulations before new forms of sentient life became a real problem for us. You handle multi-million dollar accounts and can find a tax loop-hole in the eye of a needle; why can’t you keep an eye on the expiration dates of your food?”
After another thirty minutes of discussing the implied freedoms of the communal fridge, Rayne lost her nerve and threw a fistful of snotty tissues at the group. “Could you please just get the fuck out of my cubicle and get back to work? If a gross fridge was my biggest problem today, I would be your all-singing-all-dancing kind of HR manager, but I’m not. Get out!”
After threats of common assault were bantered about, Rayne’s director, Rod, stepped in and sent the grim accountants back to their floor. In a gush of bubbly snot and stinging black tears, Rayne revealed it all: her boyfriend of five years, Jason, had been photographed with another woman, an infamous socialite with a penchant for little dogs. Jason was a statistician; not exactly a sexy job, but he had boyish charm--and apparently wandering hands. The photo had been taken when they were sitting together, and from the torso up it looked fine, but the camera caught activities happening below the small table they sat at.
Rayne had only become aware of this when the pixelated version flicked onto her TV screen as she was cooking dinner at home. Within moments, her phone had scuttled off the kitchen bench in the dance of the many silent vibrations. Her social media page had gone bonkers, too, with strangers and journalists trying to contact her. Jason never did come home--turned out he wasn’t at a statistics and budgetary meeting that day after all.
Rayne was gently guided from the building by Rod and was told to consider an extended break until the media buzz died down. Floating past the newsstands filled with full-page reproductions of her boyfriend’s cheating--or, more likely, the unabashed shame of the socialite--Rayne ambled to the subway, pulled out a worn paperback from her bag and settled onto a bench to immerse herself into a story where the almost-fiancés weren’t caught out on national media cheating with pretty socialites.
Several people had joined Rayne on her bench; one was a stylish woman with a glossy blonde bouffant, designer coat and black patent stilettos. The woman was flipping mindlessly through a thick glossy fashion magazine, paying only slight attention to the fashion spreads. A rush of air across the platform signaled the arrival of another train. The woman folded back several pages of her magazine and tucked it under arm as she hoisted her large leather tote and stepped into the crowd of commuters, disappearing among the throngs of beige trench coats and black jackets. Just as the train was pulling out the station, sucking another gush of air from the platform, Rayne felt a frantic fluttering at her side; a business card had lodged itself into the slats of the bench. Rayne picked it up and was surprised by the weight. It was made of a very luxurious bright white card stock but felt like it contained something heavier—almost as heavy as a credit card. Pressed cleanly into the card were crisp black letters in a take-no-prisoners serif font:
YOUR PARADISE AWAITS…
The other side just had a cryptic web address of letter and numbers. Rayne looked back to see the final train carriage disappear from view; the woman must’ve dropped this. Rayne tucked the card into her book and continued reading, deciding to check out the website once she was within Wi-Fi reach and see if she could drop the card off.
Despite the lust and romance that sprinkled the pages of her favorite books, opening the door of her brownstone apartment brought Rayne back to her immediate future. Mentally exhausted, Rayne began to boil water for tea, getting out her favorite mug. Remembering the special business card tucked in her book, Rayne scrabbled around looking for it before booting up her laptop.
Dropping onto the couch, Rayne turned the card over in her hand and carefully typed in the long URL, double-checking the letter and number sequence twice. Within a fraction of a second of pressing the enter button, Rayne’s screen went black. Of all the people in the world to type in a link to a virus…
Then, the screen faded into white; a set of black letters materialized and faded in a gentle sequence:
“Welcome to Eden. You have been selected to join us for an exclusive getaway. Disappear into a tropical island paradise. For your eyes only.”
Oh crap.
The screen changed to show expensive resort imagery with sweeping tropical landscapes. After one rotation through the images, a registration screen popped up demanding details. Rayne searched the static page looking for contact details, but there was nothing.
I can register, but I’ll explain that it was a mistake and I’m looking for the right person.
Rayne typed in her details and, after a moment of hesitation, pressed ‘submit’.
Another screen popped up among a new gallery of resort images: “Thank you for registering. One of our resort team members will contact you shortly.”
Rayne opened a new search window and typed in “Eden Resort,” only to get back tens of thousands of possible clues. She extended the search with “island paradise,” only to whittle a couple of thousand from the list. Before Rayne could contemplate another search term, her landline phone started ringing.
“Hello?”
“Hi, is this Rayne Baker?” a bubbly woman’s voice echoed down the phone.
“Yes, who is this?”
“My name is Cassandra from Eden Resort. We just received your registration.”
Wow, t
hat was fast.
“Look, I’m glad you called because I actually think this invitation was for someone else.”
“Was there a name on the card?”
“No, just a web address.”
The woman’s voice brightened, “In that case, it’s very much your card. This is part of a secret promotion Eden Resort is hosting prior to its official launch; I believe a few cards were distributed through random circulation."
Smart PR move…
Rayne could hear typing and clicking in the background. “You’re actually very lucky, Ms. Baker. I've just checked the reservation, and it seems that you have been assigned the Lotus Suite, one of the most expensive suites on the island. There’s yoga, massage and private dining included in your package, which… yes, you’re entitled to over $18,000 worth of value for a six day, seven night stay.”
“I’m sorry, what? Did you say an $18,000 stay?”
“Yes.” The disembodied voice was practically beaming down the phone.
“Do I need to purchase anything for this?”
The woman laughed, “No, not at all. It’s an exclusive invitation. A bit like what travel agents get to review resorts.”
“So I am to review the resort in exchange for over $18,000 of value?”
“That’s the plan.”
Rayne sat, astounded by the opportunity that landed in her lap. “So, when do I leave?”
****
Rayne massaged her temples and smacked her lips together, desperate for a steward to provide her with a glass of water. She had been hauled out of bed at 4 am and taken by private car to a private airport where she had boarded...a private plane.