Dim the Lights: Islands of DesireLiquid ChocolateHer Wild and Sexy Nights

by Lindsay Evans

  But at least he no longer had to wonder if they’d be any good in bed together. He knew right then…they’d set it on fire.

  “I think you had better come in,” he said.

  Chapter Three

  Kayla’s mouth fell open as she took in Mick’s penthouse suite. Blue-and-gold Oriental carpets adorned the floors and went perfectly with the red and gold-trimmed baroque furniture. The vanilla walls featured oil paintings so finely rendered that even an art history know-nothing like Kayla could tell they were genuinely old and probably had a price tag to match.

  She couldn’t stop gaping as she followed Mick into the suite’s main room. It looked more like a magazine spread than an actual place where human beings were expected to live, even for a short time. The view of the city beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows on the side wall looked like nothing short of a postcard, with the Eiffel Tower all lit up in seeming greeting. She could barely believe it was real.

  “Wow, your prize package is a lot better than mine. My hotel room’s like a coffin.”

  “Yeah, I guess it’s all right,” Mick said, walking over to a full-service bar with a stock of high-end liquors and a selection of red wines she had no doubt hailed from the finest vineyards in France.

  Kayla goggled at the backlit bar. “Yeah, your prize package is waaaayyyy better than mine.”

  “They put some champagne in the fridge. Want some?”

  She came over to stand on the other side of the bar. “No, don’t open anything. Do you know how much they charge for that stuff?”

  “No,” he answered as he grabbed the bottle of Krug Brut from the fridge and popped it open anyway, smoothly catching the liquid that came spilling out in one flute, which he handed to her. “Do you?”

  “Well…no, not exactly,” she admitted. “But I’m fairly sure it’s a lot.”

  He shrugged. “Don’t worry about it. This hotel’s so posh, it’s probably lumped with the rest of it, innit?”

  She frowned, the numbers girl in her finding it too hard not to speak up. “I’m pretty sure it isn’t. That’s not how fancy hotels work.”

  He leaned forward then, placing his elbows on the bar. “Are we or are we not on holiday?”

  “Yes, but—”

  “Good, we’re agreed. Drink your bubbly.”

  She took a sip of champagne, partly because she didn’t want it to go to waste now that it was already open. But also because it gave her something to do now that she was actually in an insanely fancy hotel room. With a stranger named Mick. Preparing to have sex with the first person other than Marcus in four years.

  Thinking of Marcus caused a sudden shadow to fall over her heart.

  “Tell you what,” he said, coming around the bar with his glass of champagne. “If you’re going to think of some other guy every time I give you champagne, we’re going to switch this out for a couple of pints.”

  “Pints of what?” she asked, her thoughts of Marcus dissipating as she watched his lean body come toward her with athletic grace. Strange because the way he walked reminded her of some of the quarterbacks she’d seen.

  “Beer,” he answered. “That’s my usual. But in my experience, girls don’t like it.”

  She screwed up her face. “I hate beer.”

  “Proving me point. And I don’t mind champagne, so a compromise we can all live with, right? Except you’re looking like you’re about to start crying again, and I can’t have that. Not only does it kill the mood, but it’s also a waste of nice champagne, innit?”

  As sad as she’d been mere moments ago, she found herself fighting back laughter now. “Why are you laughing?” he asked. “I’m serious.”

  “I know you are,” she said. And on an impulse, she stood on her tiptoes and tentatively kissed him.

  She’d meant it as an innocent peck, but when she came back down to the heels of her feet, his whole face had changed, and what was burning in his eyes wasn’t innocent at all. The look he was giving her now was steady and primal and made her think of the kiss in the doorway, the way his rigid length had pressed against her stomach, scaring her and thrilling her at the same time.

  “All right then,” he said, taking the glass of champagne back from her.

  He tossed both of their glasses seemingly without a care for where they landed in the opulent room. She heard two thunks in the distance, and then Mick had enveloped her in a clench that seemed to be both a kiss and a method of clothes removal. His lips barely left hers, but before she knew it, her top had gone the way of her champagne flute and her broom skirt was in a cotton puddle on the floor.

  But then he stopped and stepped back, his eyes taking in her kelly-green underwear and the matching bra. Self-consciousness began to douse the heat from their second kiss. It was excruciating, watching him observe her like this, and her arms came up to cover her chest.

  But he knocked her arms back to her sides and gently kept them pinned there as he continued to stare. Then they just stood like that, his large hands on her wrists, his dark eyes on her body.

  “Wall or floor?” he asked.

  “Excuse me?”

  “We’re not going to make it to the bed.” He finally took his eyes off her body and repeated. “Wall or floor?”

  Kayla swallowed. She was not the kind of girl who had sex on the floor or up against walls. “How about the couch?” she asked.

  He gave her a very feral smile. “So you want me to make the decision for you, do ya?”

  “But the couch is right there—”

  Her back hit the nearby wall, and his lips were once again on hers. And also once again, his kiss was hot but multipurpose. He took out his wallet and pulled something out of it before tossing it aside. Vaguely she realized it was a condom as he pushed down his jeans and boxer briefs. She soon felt the hooded tip of him press against her stomach but only for a few tantalizing seconds before he was sheathing it in thin plastic.

  After that piece of business was taken care of, he cupped his hands around her nape and pushed his tongue deeper into her mouth, effectively short-circuiting every practical thought in her head. There was no room to think about anything but him. One hand came down from her neck and slipped inside her panties to find her core. Then two of his fingers were pushing inside of her like his tongue was pushing inside her mouth. It felt so good to have him touch her like this, and she felt herself clench hard around his fingers as he moved them inside her with a few strokes.

  But then he broke off with a curse. “You’re already wet.”

  She blinked in confusion. Was that a bad thing?

  “I promised you a good time, but I’m not going to be able to…” He pulled his fingers out of her and stroked her nape. “I’ll make it up to you later tonight, baby, I swear.”

  Make up what to her? She was ready to ask when he jerked down her panties and thrust himself inside of her with a forceful stroke that moved her entire body upward. It should have hurt, there’d been barely any foreplay beyond kisses, but he’d been right about how wet she was, and despite the thickness of his length, which stretched her wider than she’d ever thought possible, he felt right inside of her, like he belonged there. She welcomed every inch of him, her core pulsing with the pleasure of his invasion.

  She might be a prim-and-proper payroll assistant, but at least one part of her was a very bad girl. She couldn’t wait for him to start moving himself inside of her, the way he’d moved his fingers there earlier.

  However, Mick shut his eyes and held himself very still, almost as if he was overcome by something…or trying to get a hold of himself.

  “Mick?” she said. She’d meant it to be a question, like “Are you all right?” But her womanhood was clenching around him, trying to compel him to start moving. So what was meant as a question came out with a moan attached.

 
That was it. Mick picked up both her legs and placed them around his waist before pinning her hips to the wall with his hard strokes, so rough and fast she had to cling to him, feeling as if she’d topple sideways if she didn’t hold on.

  But then Mick dug in deeper, pressing the rough sandpaper of his five-o’clock shadow into her chest as he drove into her, again and again, relentless in his attack until she exploded, the pleasure so overwhelming her entire body seized up.

  The land mines inside of them seemed to be connected because Mick came just seconds after her climax hit, as if he’d been holding himself back, like a dog on a chain, so that she could come first.

  He surged inside of her, yelling out as he released inside the condom. He cursed again. But this time Kayla knew it was because he was surprised by how impassioned and all-consuming their coming together had been and not because he was displeased.

  She knew because she felt the same way.

  Chapter Four

  Mick knew he was making Kayla nervous as he sat across from her eating the veal chops he’d had sent up. If he’d been even half a gentleman, one of those guys who’d been raised to treat a woman nice and proper, he’d have attempted some small talk or at least answered her questions about his “prize package” with something other than “Yeah,” “No” and “Not sure.”

  But the truth was, he was rattled. He’d thought he was the one roping the skittish American into his web, but now it was him feeling unnerved as he tried to work his mind around what had happened between them.

  What the bloody hell was wrong with him? He’d meant to show her a good time, give her a story to take back to her friends. Instead she’d kissed him once, and it had been enough to make him lose control, taking her against the wall like a rutting beast. As opposed to an international soccer star who’d slept with more than his fair share of women.

  What must she think of him now? Mr. Big Talk about how he would do her in bed turning out to be little more than an animal who could barely control himself.

  Maybe it was her body. He’d not known what to expect, given the bulky nature of her orange-and-yellow American football T-shirt. But he’d found lovely and large breasts, Greek goddess hips and a derriere so expansive it could barely be contained by the boy shorts she was wearing. The perfect package, all wrapped up in a bright green underwear set.

  It actually made him angry when she tried to shield herself from his eyes. Because why would any woman with a body like hers ever want to cover themselves up?

  If he hadn’t been so baffled by how fast things had gone between them, he wouldn’t have let her put the T-shirt and skirt that had done her assets such a disservice back on. As it was, he wanted to burn the clothes she was wearing and then engage a barrister to sue the companies that had made them for defamation.

  He also wanted to see her naked again. He could barely eat, could barely let her finish eating before wondering what her breasts looked like under the bra. His urgent need to be inside her hadn’t let him remove it before taking her against the wall. Again, what the bloody hell was wrong with him?

  Suddenly she was getting up, placing her cloth napkin down on the table.

  “Where are you going?” he asked.

  “I’m sorry I’ve overstayed my welcome,” she answered. “I mean, when you ordered dinner, I thought, I don’t know, that you actually wanted to have dinner with me. But you’re barely talking, and I can see now you were just being nice and that I should have left after…” She didn’t finish her sentence. Instead she rubbed her hand over her forehead. “I’m sorry. I haven’t dated in a really long time—not that we’re dating. Oh, God, I’m so not good at this. I’m sorry. I’m just going to go, okay?”

  He caught her by the wrist and stood. “What do you want for breakfast tomorrow?”

  She shook her head as if his question had only mortified her more. “You don’t have to offer that just to be nice, and I should probably be getting back to my hotel anyway,” she said, trying to tug her wrist away.

  But he held on to her tighter, feeling along the lines of a kidnapper, but he was unable to physically let her go. “What just happened against the wall—we were both there, right? Do you really think there’s any way in hell I don’t want that to happen again?”

  The urgent desire he was feeling at that moment must have translated onto his face because she stopped trying to get her hand back.

  “But you were so quiet during dinner…”

  “…because I knew you were probably hungry after that. Because I was holding myself from sweeping the table and taking you again on top of it. Because I’d rather be talking about how to make you come than just about anything else right now. Finish that sentence any way you want to, Kayla. But know that it’s not because I don’t want you here.”

  He pulled her to him and shuddered when her soft breasts pressed against his chest, even though they were covered up by that crap T-shirt. “I more than want you here. I can barely think, I want you here so bad.”

  He brought the hand he had trapped to the front of his pants and pushed it down past his waistband, where the beast he’d been trying to keep at bay all through dinner resided. “Feel for yourself what you do to me.”

  Her eyes widened, and he thought she might snatch her hand away and accuse him of being a pervert for making her touch him this way. But instead she gave it a squeeze, almost exploratory in nature, before running her hand up his entire length. But she stopped at the hooded top, running her thumb over its hole.

  “Something wet’s coming out, but it’s not…” Her face scrunched up with curious confusion. “What is that?”

  He unzipped his jeans, not only to give her more room to keep doing what she was doing, but also so she could see what was coming out of the head of his penis.

  “Pre-cum. Means I’m excited. Real excited,” he answered, battling with himself to stay still. He had thought she might stop if he didn’t keep still. “You’ve never had a man want you so bad, he starts leaking like this when you touch him?”

  She shook her head. “There weren’t a lot of guys before my ex, and he never…”

  He immediately knew that her ex was either gay or stupid. Probably both. But one thing was obvious—Kayla, a fantasy come true in just her bra and knickers, was wasted on a knob like that. Mick could only steal glances at her dark hand, stroking his pale flesh, without fear of coming quickly and helplessly like a schoolboy.

  “You can keep on doing that,” he told her, “but if you do, it’s going to be more than pre-cum. You’re going to get the real deal—my spunk all over your pretty little hand.”

  She looked away from him then but she didn’t stop. And soon his dick spasmed in her hand.

  He moved his head in front of hers, only to have her look to the other side. But she kept on stroking. He once again placed his face directly in front of her, and this time when she tried to turn her head, he gently grabbed her around the nape so she had no choice but to look at him.

  “I like this,” he told her. “I like you.”

  “I believe you,” she whispered. “I like you, too.”

  I like you, too. His dick contracted with almost painful tightness, and he threw back his head before geysering, as promised, all over her hand.

  When he opened his eyes he smiled. Not just because this sweet girl had given him the best hand job he’d ever had the pleasure of experiencing but because at least one of his wishes had just come true.

  “Looks like I ruined your shirt,” he said with no apology whatsoever in his voice. “We better take it off.”

  Chapter Five

  Kayla might have thought the hand job would slow Mick down, but there was only a moment of calm before he slammed into her like a Mack truck. His lips smacked into hers and she had no choice but to stumble backward as he pushed her toward what sh
e guessed was the bedroom. Her clothes went flying in every direction as he stripped them off of her, and she soon found out that she’d guessed right when he tossed her completely naked onto a bed covered in a billowy white comforter and several plush pillows.

  The bed was so soft that it felt like landing on a cloud. Cloud nine, with a chorus of heavenly music going off in her head as she thanked her lucky stars that she’d taken Mick up on his offer.

  But the man standing above her, yanking his T-shirt off over his head, was no angel. He’d already taken off his pants, and Kayla sat up on her elbows to stare at the long rod of flesh between his legs. Even spent, it was pretty intimidating, and she was glad the first time had happened so fast because she might have backed out if she’d had a chance to observe it beforehand.

  After he got his shirt off, his eyes went to her uncovered breasts, studying them as if they were a work of art. A work of art he was very interested in possessing. To her surprise, his cock rose all the way up to full mast, pointing in the direction of her womanhood like an erotic arrow. She remembered how it had felt to have him moving inside her, filling her up so thoroughly, and her whole body tingled with sweet anticipation.

  This time he seemed to be in no hurry. His eyes stayed on her breasts as he leaned over and put one of the orbs in his mouth. His lips encased her entire areola as his tongue pulled on her nipple. One of his hands reached down and cupped her down below with a casualness that belied how profoundly erotic it felt to have his hand down there while his mouth worked her breast.

  But just as she was starting to squirm from the sensations he was giving her, he let go of her breast. “Almost forgot. I promised to make it up to you, didn’t I?”

  Oh, she’d say he was more than making it up. But he stood and parted her thighs, running his hands down the soft and sensitive insides. His eyes then swept down to the triangle between her legs.

  When she realized what he was about to do, she quickly sat back up on her arms, slightly alarmed. “Oh, you don’t have to do that. I’m fine with just— Oh!”