Sin's Temptation: An Erotic Intentions Book

by Evie Harrison

  Sin’s Temptation

  An Erotic Intentions Book

  Evie Harrison

  Contents

  Copyright

  The Erotic Intentions Books

  Sin’s Temptation

  Prologue

  1. Chapter One

  2. Chapter Two

  3. Chapter Three

  4. Chapter Four

  5. Chapter Five

  6. Chapter Six

  7. Chapter Seven

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Copyright

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by an information and retrieval system without express written permission from the Author/Publisher.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the authors imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright 2016 by Evie Harrison

  Cover Design: Perfect Pear Creative Covers

  Editing: Linda Ellen Edits

  The Erotic Intentions Books

  Each Erotic Intentions book will be a standalone story full of page-melting, panty-wetting heat courtesy of alpha men claiming their women. No cheating. No lying. No deceit. Just true love.

  Short, sweet & sexy.

  Sin’s Temptation

  Inventor of one of the world's best-selling sex toys and owner of a popular chain of erotic shops, Jordan Sinclair has it all. Time and time again he's lived up to the nickname the press calls him, Mr. Sin. This confirmed bachelor has no intention of ever settling down.

  That all changes during a visit to one of his Erotic Bent sex stores when he spots eighteen-year-old Natalie Farrar in aisle six. The dark haired beauty has him ensnared in the blink of an eye. The attraction between them is palpable and within minutes Jordan knows there's nothing he won't do to claim and keep her by his side forever.

  Prologue

  Jordan

  “Even though this piece is about your business success, I’d be remiss if I didn’t ask you some personal questions.”

  I was lucky the interview was being conducted over the phone and not face-to-face. It meant he didn’t see when I rolled my eyes.

  “Fire away.”

  “I can find no record of you having a steady girlfriend, at least not since you became a success.”

  “That isn’t a question,” I said dryly.

  “Oh! Well…” the reporter on the other end of the line spluttered for a few seconds, seemingly unable to think of how to frame his question.

  I let him flounder. Cruel? Maybe. I didn’t care. I wasn’t about to help him. People were nosy as fuck, and I thought the question was completely unnecessary. The only reason anyone gave a damn about my relationship status was due to my wealth. If I were a custodian no one would have cared.

  “What I’m trying to ask is, do you have a girlfriend?”

  I couldn’t contain my snort. “No.”

  “Is there a particular reason why?”

  Again, I rolled my eyes. I loathed the way people felt they needed to dig in for answers to stupid questions.

  “This is where you want me to say something along the lines of I haven’t met the right woman yet or something,” I snickered. “Go ahead and print that very thing if you want, but it isn’t the case with me. The truth is, I don’t do relationships because I think it would be shitty to let someone believe for even a second it might lead to marriage.”

  I shuddered as I said it. The concept of marriage made me seriously uncomfortable. Agreeing to commit to one woman for the rest of my life?

  I’d never met anyone I wanted to spend a month with, much less a lifetime. I knew with absolute certainty I’d be a shitty boyfriend and a poor husband. After all, I’d learned what I’d lived.

  “You’re anti-marriage?” the reporter queried.

  “Not for anyone who wants that life,” I answered. “It just isn’t for me personally.”

  I’d seen the dark side of marriage, knew all too well what the fallout looked like.

  “In your position, I wouldn’t want to settle down either,” he said enviously. “You’ve got it damn good.”

  My lips quirked and I nodded to myself.

  “Life is great,” I confirmed.

  So great, I didn’t think it was even conceivable that it could be even better. No commitments, no entanglements, no children caught in the crossfire between raging parents.

  I damn sure intended to keep it that way.

  1

  Chapter One

  Jordan

  I’m sure you’re wondering, so I’m going to get confirmation out of the way. Yes, it’s me, Jordan Sinclair, otherwise known as Mr. Sin. Chances are, you’ve had many an orgasm because of me. You’re welcome for those, by the way.

  To be blunt, I was a cocky asshole.

  I’ve changed.

  That’s what love does when it reworks you from the inside out, filling in all your jagged places.

  My career began with my line of thrusters—powerful sex machines controllable by phone or tablet that will fuck you until you’re mindless. I invented that little gem during the first semester of college. By the time I graduated, I’d made my first million. The sex business was always booming, and I’d charted a course to get my fair share. I succeeded beyond my wildest expectations.

  Quite often I was questioned as to why I had chosen a sex toy business. My professional answer was that I’d seen a hole in the market and stepped in to fill the void. Pun intended.

  The real answer was far more straightforward.

  I. Loved. Pussy.

  Pussy worship was an art. Touching, tasting, licking, devouring, fingering, and, my favorite of all, fucking, required skill – and I had it. Not much of a surprise, seeing as how I’d spent countless hours in a pussy-induced fog. It was my drug of choice.

  I knew several married men who were lucky to have sex a few times a month, and I felt sorry for the poor bastards. Sex was used as a bargaining chip within their relationships and I thought it was depressing.

  I couldn’t even fathom how I’d survive on that little sex. I lived to fuck. Often. I liked the variety of moving on and finding the next woman who would be taking my dick. It was never hard to find new people to twirl on my pole for two reasons.

  1. My thick eight-inch cock

  2. I was rich as fuck

  Like most men, my dick was my compass. I let it lead me to a variety of women instead of one. No woman had or ever would have a hold on me. The idea of being with someone long-term was inconceivable to me. Marriage didn’t work, period.

  That mindset went right out the window the day fate laughed as it lobbed the ultimate curveball at me.

  My system was cranking Guns n’ Roses ‘Paradise City’ as I guided my black Range Rover into a parking spot at the rear of my store, Erotic Bent. It was a beautiful day and, all things considered, I’d rather have been working at my record store by the sea than at the sex shop, but digging through vinyl wasn’t on the agenda. Instead, I’d just driven for a bit less than two hours to get from Malibu to Riverside.

  The online component of my business made up for more than half of my yearly earnings, but the stores were still important. I owned ten shops in Southern California, which meant sometimes I had no choice
but to make those shitty drives. I wouldn’t have bothered if it weren’t necessary to be seen. I cared about all my stores, and I wanted my employees to know I was hands-on.

  Still, I wasn’t excited about having to spend the day sitting with my accountant to go over financials for a yearly internal audit. The only saving grace was that if all went according to plan, it would be my only face-to-face interaction with him until he generated his report.

  My chief bookkeeper could've handled it, but I liked to make sure everyone knew who was in charge from the get-go. People assumed it was easy being as successful as I was, since in a lot of ways my products sold themselves. They couldn’t have been more wrong. I’d never been one to sit on my laurels, and I didn’t see obscene wealth as an excuse to be lazy. As a thirty-four-year-old billionaire, I could’ve sold or delegated everything, but I hadn’t. I’d gotten to where I was with a lot of hard work, and I was proud of it.

  After getting myself in the right frame of mind to look at numbers all day, I turned off the engine and climbed out of the car. Closing the door behind me, I clicked my key fob to arm the system and then headed into the store. It was just after ten in the morning, which was a busy time. Most people figured sex stores saw the most action at night, but that wasn’t the case. The morning was when most people found it easiest to sneak off to buy their sex toys.

  We did a brisk business with the unsatisfied suburban moms. They came in once the husband left for work and the kids were in school, looking for something to end the monotony of being ignored sexually by their man. They came in for plastic fantastic, and sometimes, if there were a connection, I’d give them the real thing. After it was over, I’d leave and never contact them again, which was just what we both wanted.

  The narrative about women not wanting one night—or one afternoon—is dead wrong. It isn’t just men who know what they want. There’s no one more willing to have it be a one-time thing than someone who just wants to be touched. I aimed to please. Those women rode me like they were auditioning for the rodeo and sucked my dick like their last name was Hoover. I didn’t feel guilty, either. If their husbands didn’t want someone else to be giving their woman dick, they needed to get the fuck on it and do it themselves. There was no excuse for being a negligent asshole. I might have been anti-commitment, but I enjoyed women and took tremendous pleasure in making them happy.

  When I entered the store, I stopped at the end of the dildo aisle, grinning when my eyes settled on an attractive woman tracing her finger over a package containing Big Barry. Barry was a ten-inch long, wrist thick cock that drove women wild. My attention stayed on her as she licked her lips, her fascination with Big Barry more than evident. It was as I started walking toward her that I saw my fork in the road.

  It all started when I realized there was someone on the other side of the woman holding Big Barry. Said woman instantly faded away as my eyes trailed hungrily over the features of a girl holding a suction-cupped cock in her hand. The pounding of my heart thudded in my ears as I stared. Anxious to see the rest of her, I stepped to the side so blouse lady, now an inconvenience, was no longer blocking my line of sight.

  The second I could see the girl from head to toe, my cock went solid. Never in my life had the blood left my fucking head this fast. It was so abrupt I was dizzy for a few seconds.

  She was one of those girls—you know the ones. At first glance, they look old enough to get into the club, but on closer examination, you realize they’re jailbait. I’d probably have been completely oblivious to it but for one thing—the uniform she was wearing, for public school students in California.

  Somehow she made the khaki skirt look sexy as hell. Even her simple white polo shirt looked good. Her long dark hair was in a ponytail with a pale pink silk scarf tied around it. My eyes traveled hungrily over her neck as I'd grappled with a damn near overwhelming desire to bite and suck on it. I couldn’t get over just how stunning she was, and I was only seeing half of her.

  The side of her face I could see was perfection; flawless skin with puffy pink lips that I knew would look oh-so-fucking-good wrapped around my cock. I was hungry to touch, to taste, and to devour her.

  I remained completely entranced until it dawned on me that I was not the only one staring at her. When I looked up, I saw a man at the other end of the aisle studying her appreciatively. I hated the way he was looking her over like he was imagining doing X-rated things with her.

  My response was swift. Over my dead fucking body would he ever lay one finger on her. With an urgency that startled me, I stepped forward and touched her arm.

  “Hey—”

  When she looked up and our eyes connected, I lost everything.

  Every.

  Fucking.

  Thing.

  Her beautiful blue eyes had me completely enthralled, and the world around me felt like it tipped over. The shift was thunderous. I wanted her so badly I’d have fucked her right there in aisle six if she’d said it was okay. Of course, I’d only have done so after I got rid of anyone else who might have seen her. In that instant, I knew she belonged to me.

  I also knew I’d drag any motherfucker who tried to touch what was mine straight down to hell.

  The color on her cheeks and the sweet way she licked her lips made my dick twitch in my pants. I ached to kiss her, to taste her sweet lips and explore her mouth. I growled low in my throat when I glanced over her shoulder and saw two more men looking at her.

  Anxious to get her away from their leering, I took the suction-cup dick from her hand and tossed it down on the shelf.

  “You won’t be needing that,” I rasped. “Come with me.”

  “Okay," she said breathlessly, a dreamy smile on her lips as she looked up at me. It seemed like she was as enchanted by me as I was by her.

  She inched closer to me before she abruptly stopped and shook her head as if to clear it.

  "Wait! I don’t—” she swallowed as her eyes darted around the store anxiously. “Who are you?”

  Realizing I’d scared her, I raised my free hand and gestured reassuringly. “Don’t worry, you’re safe. My name is Jordan Sinclair, and I own this store,” I explained. “I want to take you back to the office area because we need to talk.”

  Just to talk, I reminded my cock. The fucker thought she was true north, and he was more than ready to go home.

  Her brows rose in surprise. “As in Jordan Sinclair the owner of this chain of stores?” she asked.

  My name on her lips was heaven. I didn’t know how I felt about the fact that she had clearly heard of me, though. It bothered me that she knew I owned porn stores.

  “Yeah,” I admitted gruffly. “That’s me.”

  “Oh… okay,” she said with a hesitant smile. “I’ll go back to the offices with you.”

  The instant she agreed, I was moving to guide her up the other end of the aisle, away from the gawkers. I walked us straight into the back, stopping when we got into the hall so I could ask her some questions.

  “What’s your name?”

  “Natalie Farrar,” she answered softly.

  Fuck me, I thought. This girl.

  This.

  Girl.

  She was like a goddamn dream.

  A dream that could’ve become a nightmare if someone aside from me had approached her out in the store. It wasn’t outside the realm of possibility that someone would’ve followed her out to the parking lot. The very thought made me angry. Not with her—with them. Schoolgirls were like crack to creepers. A tidal wave of worst-case scenarios hit me all at once, each one more disturbing than the last. Why the hell did I own sex stores? And more importantly, why was she inside one of them?

  “Are you ditching school to buy sex toys?”

  Her cheeks flushed as she giggled nervously, a sweet sound with a little bit of husky thrown in.

  “No, I’m not ditching school,” she assured me.

  “You’re wearing a uniform and it’s way too early for school to be out for the day,�
�� I said skeptically.

  She shook her head. “I promise, I’m not ditching. I only had to go in this morning to empty my locker and turn in my textbooks.”

  I assumed she meant she was moving, which made me frown. I panicked, wondering if she was leaving the state. I didn’t want that to happen. Forcing myself to calm way the fuck down, I inhaled and exhaled a deep breath.

  Slightly calmer, I’d focused on getting some answers. I’d needed to know more while also getting across to her that she had no place in a sex shop.

  “If you were just looking for a way to pass the time, you should’ve gone to the mall or something. You’re too young to be in this store,” I pointed out. “What were you thinking? You could have been—”

  My sentence trailed off when the door to the meeting room opened. Turning my head, I grimaced as my accountant, Robert, stepped into the hall. Before I could tell him to fuck off so I could finish talking to Natalie (who was way too fucking young, I kept reminding my dick) he grinned and walked our way.

  “Hey, Jordan! I see you’ve met my neighbor, Natalie. She’ll be shadowing me for the next six weeks for her Senior Project.”

  I blank stared him as I processed his words. My first reaction was relief that she was a senior. Granted, she was still much younger than I, but at least in a few weeks, she’d be out of high school and on her way to college. I’d been worried I was lusting after a tenth grader. Knowing that wasn’t the case was a weight off of my shoulders.

  Still, her being a senior didn’t excuse Robert bringing her to the store.

  “Do you realize how reprehensible it is for you to have brought a minor to a fucking sex store?” I hissed.

  Robert’s hands flailed frantically as he shook his head. “No! God no! She’s eighteen, almost nineteen. I would never.”