Dangerous Desires

by Tia Siren

  “Thank you, I’m excited.”

  “Good, better to be excited than scared.” He tapped my shoulder gently, and walked off to his office whistling.

  Only when the door shut did I properly freak out about what just happened. It was really happening. And then I thought of this morning and my smile cracked even wider.

  Eli.

  He is so…infuriating and sexy and…British. It was a fantasy to even meet someone that sounded like James Bond, but here I was. Getting to hear that same voice in the throes of passion was even better. I was just so caught up in how he acted after the first time. He was an asshole. And I walked right into it.

  Now I knew I couldn’t get serious, not when my career was about to take off. So then why did I want to grab the phone and ask what to wear to dinner?

  Shit. I was in so much trouble.

  11

  Eli

  Kennedy was really messing with my head. In a good way, mostly. I was still surrounded by the scent of her, the feeling of her wrapped around me. I was addicted, vexed by an American sweetheart.

  I found myself idly smiling on my couch overlooking the city. My good mood was interrupted by Veronica, the operations manager. She worked right under Marx, so I knew if she was calling, it wasn’t that serious.

  “What do you need?” I answered.

  “An update, please.” She sang. I closed my eyes, pinching the bridge of my nose in frustration. I never regretted sleeping with a woman before I met her. She thought she had me wrapped around her finger. Subject to her, but I wasn’t.

  She had a direct line to the boss, so I couldn’t exactly ignore her, for fear of getting a bad report and then sat down at a desk for the rest of my career.

  “I purchased a potential counterfeit painting. I have yet to examine it.” I updated. I felt her smile snake over the line.

  “Good. Timing is imperative here. We can’t let them get the money they need for whatever attack they are planning. We are going to put feet on the ground, to watch their progress.”

  “Good,” I nodded, “I will do my part.”

  “I am sure you will…what of the American working at the gallery?”

  I swallowed, how had she known about her? She wasn’t listed on the personnel files we pulled, so it was even a surprise that I met her. I knew of my tracking device, but I never suspected they would have eyes on me, they had stopped following me years ago.

  “What of who?” I lied. I was born to lie, it came out easily. Problem was, Veronica was too.

  “Eli, it does not suit you; lying to me. I know about Kennedy Michaels. We have the entire gallery under surveillance.”

  I stifled a growl of annoyance. “The whole gallery?” I asked, thinking of the supply closet I lured her into the night of the exhibit.

  “Mmhmm. Is she of any importance to this assignment?” I gritted my jaw. She was only trying to justify what happened between Kennedy and I to herself. Veronica had…hopes, still. I didn’t do any better, leading her on with all the times I had hopped back into her bed when I returned home and got lonely.

  “Yes, she has vital information on the gallery. And access.” I replied.

  “Very well. If you must get her to trust you, so be it. We need all the intel we can get. Listen, they are taking the originals and selling them on the black market. The fakes are what actually gets delivered. We need to know what company is making those shipments, it gets us much closer.”

  “Of course. Is that all?” I sighed.

  “Yes. Goodbye, Eli.”

  “Bye, Veronica.”

  I groaned in frustration. I should have a look at that art before my evening with Kennedy. I was at a hard crossroads with her, I didn’t know if she was involved in this scheme. And if I accused her and was wrong, she would never forgive me. But why did I care about that outcome? Why did it matter what she thought?

  It wouldn’t be easy to just keep asking her if she knew about the shipments. How would I spin that? Why would I want to know who is delivering art? She was smart, and she would see right through it.

  I felt for her. More than wanting her in my bed. I wanted to know her mind, but I couldn’t. It was literally not allowed in my line of work. This entire assignment would fall apart if I allowed myself to get side tracked. I have to keep her close, but still farther than arm’s length.

  That would be the hardest assignment of all.

  12

  Kennedy

  I was falling for this man, and hard.

  It was so frustrating, to be attracted to someone I knew I couldn’t have. But why couldn’t I have him? Just for a little while…

  Because how he treated me was so confusing, and I didn’t want to try and figure it out. Why was I even going over there? Against my better judgement, I was still getting dressed. I deserved at least a little bit of fun. With him. In bed.

  That was all it needed to be, casual sex until he leaves. But I couldn’t shake this itch, or maybe it was the tight fabric of my dress—that he was hiding something. He didn’t look like an art enthusiast, and he didn’t act like one. Besides, they don’t usually come to our gallery in person. People with his kind of money had people purchase their art for them. What would he want with a simple scale art gallery in Brooklyn? It just didn’t sit well with me.

  Maybe I could find out tonight, and then decide what I wanted to do. I was probably ahead of myself. Surely he wasn’t thinking of me beyond sex anyway. Tonight, he definitely would want me. I put everything into my outfit, just to drive him crazy.

  From the back of my closet, I took out a dress I bought years ago and never wore. A deep crimson-colored silk dress that stopped at the knee, but tapered in length to the side. It had spaghetti straps, and sat on my chest, showing just the right amount of cleavage.

  I pulled my hair back in a loose braid, and applied light makeup with a bit of clear lip gloss. I admired myself in the mirror, and then hailed a cab to his place. While I sat in the cab going through the city, I noticed how nice this area was. Earlier today I was so focused on keeping the art safe I didn’t even look out the window. But now? This wasn’t an artsy area, this was money. Big money.

  Something was definitely off.

  My heeled sandals clacked against the pavement as I stepped up to the buzzer. Seconds later, he buzzed me right in, but there was another security door with a doorman. It then opened up to a sleek, marble and glass lobby with four elevators lining each side. The building was only eight floors, one elevator for each. It was definitely high end, and again not matching up with his reason for being here. Who visits a city and stays in a place like this?

  There wasn’t any time left to think before I stepped into the hall to his door. I knocked softly, and only waited a few seconds. Then my knees locked just before they went weak. He was so fucking edible.

  His dark jeans were designer-worthy, and his white dress shirt finely pressed and conformed to the muscles of his chest and arms. His luscious dark hair was slicked back, but loose at the top with finger waves. For my fingers, of course.

  “Kennedy, you look stunning.” He made no secret of looking me from head to toe.

  When his eyes paused at my chest, I wondered if my blush had spread there. He took my arm gently and led me inside. The place looked no different, except he had the art rolled out on the table, and a new frame sitting by it. I noticed a magnifying glass, but brushed it off—sometimes people liked to examine the brushstrokes of the artist.

  “Thank you. You look…nice.” He led me to the kitchen, and I set my purse on the top island as he poured us drinks in the center island.

  Something smelled amazing. It was all in the oven with a pot sitting on the stove. He handed me a glass of wine with that sexy smirk of his.

  “Just nice? Surely you can do better.” He sipped the white wine, his bottom lip deliciously curling under the glass.

  “Okay…delectable, fantastic, ravishing, delicious.” I muttered the last bit over my glass, but he had still hea
rd me.

  He chuckled, the vibration deep in his chest. The wine was delicious, so much so that I already wanted another glass and I hadn’t even finished the first one.

  “That’s better.” He sipped again and set the glass down before stepping so close to me I felt his body heat. “Delicious is my favorite one.”

  His intoxicating scent surrounded me. Fresh shower gel, aftershave, and the natural heat of his body made for a scent worthy of a bottle, priced at two hundred dollars per ounce. His lips were so close, my eyes caught on them before meeting his eyes, piercing into my own.

  This time I leaned in for a kiss. It was necessary; I needed it. He coaxed my lips apart, held my waist in his hand, the scorching heat of his hand melted me as I stepped closer to him. I steadied my hands on his chest, leaning into his body as he now held my waist in both hands and really laid it on me. I felt my gloss sliding between our lips as he deepened it, his tongue coming to lap at my lips. Then our tongues were together, and on his I tasted the wine mixed with mint. God, he really was delicious.

  I had to break away before we skipped dinner and dessert entirely. I glanced up at him, eyes wide with wonder. What was he doing to me? Maybe it was the accent. Or that he wasn’t from here. A whole different world lived inside of him, and that interested me.

  His eyes stayed on mine as he wiped the gloss from my lips that spread onto his, smiling as he watched me.

  “What?” I looked over to him, conscious of my every movement.

  “Nothing. Shall we eat?

  Dinner was a delicious salmon baked with hollandaise sauce and steamed vegetables. I wondered if he even cooked it himself. The place looked like it came with a chef.

  “This was amazing, thank you.”

  I had to do away with the wine. It was making me loopy. So I just had some water instead.

  “No problem. I am glad you enjoyed it.”

  Halfway through the meal, he had clicked on some music. I didn’t recognize the artist; he said he was big overseas back where he is from. But it was enjoyable, very calm. The lyrics drew together in perfect harmony with the arrangement. This was all so…put together. It wasn’t really me. Sometimes I could play this part, but most of the time, dinner was just trash TV and pizza.

  “You have gone off somewhere.” His hand sat gently on my thigh under the table.

  The simple gesture set me aflame.

  “I’m not…have you decided where you will hang your artwork?” I asked him.

  He looked over at it, making a slight face I couldn’t place.

  “I don’t know. Perhaps you have a suggestion?”

  I furrowed my brow as I cocked my head at him. Curiosity got the better of me.

  “If you are not here permanently, why does it matter where it hangs?” I asked.

  His forehead shrunk with crease lines as he gazed at me. He looked at me like…like he was trying to read me. Study me or something.

  “I want it in a good place for as long as I am here. Which may vary.”

  It sounded so rehearsed. I wasn’t sure what to believe.

  “What brought you out here to Brooklyn, anyway?” I asked. His grip on my thigh tightened and then relaxed. It lasted a fraction of a second. I thought I could have even imagined it.

  “I told you. Study different art galleries. This one just stood out to me.” That slight grip, must be his tell when he was lying. Because that most definitely was not what he told me before.

  But I didn’t want to bring it up. Not yet, anyway. I didn’t want him to know I didn’t trust him all that well.

  “I see. Well, it is a good piece for the um…for the bedroom.”

  The air thinned out again as he smirked, his eyes lighting up just before they darkened.

  “Let’s go to the bedroom then.”

  I bit my lip nervously as he led me up, discarding our plates. He took the frame and I gently grabbed the art. I wondered why this artist painted this piece on a roll, it should be on a canvas. There was no signature on the front or the back. Perhaps he was one of those that use invisible ink or something.

  His bedroom was large, a king-sized bed on a platform in the middle. The bedroom set was a light gray wood. Everything was very modern and sleek.

  “This wall.” I said. He had a very good space just above the entertainment unit, which was empty except the base itself.

  His television was in the living room.

  “Bring nails and a hammer.” I tried to say that without looking down at how well he filled out his jeans; and how much he was swelling by the second for that matter.

  It was new to me, turning on a man such as him so easily. I mean, my dress wasn’t that revealing. But it was doing something. He left the room and returned with a pack of nails, unopened, and a new hammer. This guy definitely had something going on…but I was too turned on to care.

  Being in his bedroom. The music in the background. The way he was looking at me…it was all too much.

  He set the hammer and nails down on the table, and then stalked towards me with that look in his eye. I was prisoner to it. And then I was prisoner to his lips, attacking mine. Claiming me. I was utterly his in that moment.

  I was up against the wall, his hand clasped my wrists above my head as the other rubbed every inch of my body until I heated up. His heavy hand cupped my breast through my dress, my nipple growing to a hard tight nub beneath him. I moaned into his mouth, yearning to touch him.

  When his mouth left mine, it scorched a trail of hot kisses across my collarbone.

  “Please,” I wiggled against his hands, panting for more.

  His thick, muscular thigh separated my legs, pressing against my sex through my panties. I ground myself against him, like I was using his thigh to get myself off. It was so raw and primal, I could barely breathe.

  “Please what?” I felt him smile against my neck, suckling the hollow beneath my ear.

  I should have known he would have a teasingly dominant side. But could I be party to it? My clenching pussy screamed yes.

  “Let my hands go.” I breathed. More like panted.

  “Hmm.”

  He ground himself against me again as he stood to full height. His free hand cupped my chin, tilting my face up to his. His lips hovered above mine for seconds, inches away. Then just barely touching me. He kissed my lips softly, and pulled away. Then he did it again, lasting a little longer. Then pulled away. Over and over, he barely kissed me, and I was dying for more. If this was what he was like in a proper bedroom…I didn’t stand a chance.

  He went on like that until I was nearly screaming, my hands fighting the desire to touch him. Any part of him. And his teasing kisses weren’t any better. My heavy breaths filled the air while his were even and deep.

  “Relax, love. Surrender.”

  At first, I was confused. For a few seconds, he didn’t make any sense. And then…I did just let go. Suddenly his teasing kisses were more of foreplay than torture, and he gently let my hands go just as he properly kissed me, tongue and all. I almost came just then. He gently grazed his fingertips over the swelling lips of my sex and then I did come. It was short, and minute, but the sensation was easily placed. The quick clench and then release of warm bliss.

  Fully clothed, he gave me an orgasm. Another first.

  With my hands free, I went to work on his clothes. Not satisfied until I felt every inch of his muscle against me. His cock was still separated by his boxers, but this would do for now. He took the thin straps of my dress and hung it over my shoulders, then let it fall to the floor. All I wore was panties underneath.

  Then he picked me up and tossed me on the bed before I could think. He stood at the end of the bed. Staring down at me. I wanted to cover myself up, but it was like his eyes forced me not to.

  “You are so perfect.” He whispered, almost to himself.

  I watched with rapt attention as he lowered his briefs, his hard cock springing free. Hell, he was so sexy I could barely stand it. His eyes bored holes
into mine as he gripped himself, pumping himself. I watched every muscle of his arm flex, and then he stopped.

  He brought his face to my pussy, breathing over my panties before he dragged them off.

  “I need to taste you.”

  His lips glazed across me, and I shuddered at the slightest of sensations. His tongue flicked across my clit, then made a slow lapping pull from the underside of me right to the tip. His fingers swirled through the groomed patch of hair and down to my opening, then he slunk that finger inside of me as his mouth continued its tortuous assault.

  My fingers clenched the sheets, then his hair. My legs were in the air, and then clenched around his neck or my feet flat on the bed as my legs flew open. I couldn’t contain any of the pleasure I was feeling, but then I just relaxed and surrendered like he said before. It nearly hurt at first, then it was so deliciously good I was lightheaded.

  And then I was screaming his name as I came loud and hard. As I was still clenching he traveled up my body and pressed inside of me as his lips claimed mine. I was barely ready to go again, but that didn’t stop him.

  He took my thigh in his hand, gripping me as he raised my leg so I felt him deeper. He inhaled my skin all the way to my calf and then hitched my leg over his broad shoulder as he continued to claim me.

  Over and over until the bed shook, rattling the wall.

  “Eli…oh my…yes—yes!” I was barely aware of my noises, sounds, or incomplete sentences.

  He moved faster and faster, falling into a blinding rhythm. His grunts were methodical, deep and heavy as he climbed closer and closer to his release. I clenched his hair in my hand and brought his lips to mine. They were a slobbering mess as they moved together, fighting each other as we both clenched at the top.

  I was already coming again. I tried to hold off but he was just too good. Stretched me too good, hit me too deep. I surrendered to a blinding shudder of my body, my sex clenching and a roll of hot bliss falling over me. It topped with him stilling inside of me and pumping me full of hot ropes of his seed.