by Kris Starr
An Ellora’s Cave Romantica Publication
www.ellorascave.com
Seeing is Believing
ISBN # 9781419908927
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.
Seeing is Believing Copyright© 2007 Kris Starr
Edited by Nicholas Conrad.
Cover art by Elphaba.
Electronic book Publication: January 2007
This book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from the publisher, Ellora’s Cave Publishing, Inc.® 1056 Home Avenue, Akron OH 44310-3502.
This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the authors’ imagination and used fictitiously.
Content Advisory:
S – ENSUOUS
E – ROTIC
X - TREME
Ellora’s Cave Publishing offers three levels of Romantica™ reading entertainment: S (S-ensuous), E (E-rotic), and X (X-treme).
The following material contains graphic sexual content meant for mature readers. This story has been rated S-ensuous.
S-ensuous love scenes are explicit and leave nothing to the imagination.
E-rotic love scenes are explicit, leave nothing to the imagination, and are high in volume per the overall word count. E-rated titles might contain material that some readers find objectionable—in other words, almost anything goes, sexually. E-rated titles are the most graphic titles we carry in terms of both sexual language and descriptiveness in these works of literature.
X-treme titles differ from E-rated titles only in plot premise and storyline execution. Stories designated with the letter X tend to contain difficult or controversial subject matter not for the faint of heart.
SEEING IS BELIEVING
Kris Starr
Dedication
For Kate and Sunny—it was definitely a slice. Now, for the next trilogy idea…*grins*
Trademarks Acknowledgement
The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:
Chanel No. 5: Chanel, Inc.
Prologue
Peter Murray was in a foul mood. The thrill of having helped a young woman solve her paranormal problem weeks ago had long worn off. At this rate, there was no way he’d ever be able to fulfill his obligation to his former colleagues.
Really, how could he help two more women if those women were nowhere to be found?
Pulling to a stop at a red light, Peter glanced around the busy streets. Friday night was always a good one for cabbies—lots of people out and about—but he couldn’t even muster a whole lot of enthusiasm for the evening’s potential tips.
His gaze landed on the nightclub ahead and on the right. He’d been there twice tonight already, dropping off fares. Apparently, it was the new place to go, and judging by the line of folks waiting to get in, that rumor was true.
A side door on the building flew open and a young blonde woman wearing a leather jacket stormed out, followed by a much older one. Peter’s instincts kicked in and he flicked on his turn signal to move over to the curb. His heart started to thump loudly in his chest. There was something going on here—Peter was sure of it. It was just a matter of waiting.
And that was something he’d become extremely good at.
Chapter One
“This is the last time you’re leaving the house with me ever again!” The dance club’s metal exit door clanged shut behind Jessie LaFontaine as she stomped across the sidewalk to the curb. The brisk New York City March air was a welcome change from the club’s steamy interior, and Jessie took a deep breath. Even though her fingers instantly chilled, she refrained from shoving them deep into the pockets of her black leather biker jacket. Her skin was slick with moisture—only partly a result of the club’s atmosphere—and for a moment, Jessie thought she could actually see tendrils of steam rising from her bare flesh. She gulped a lungful of cold air and exhaled slowly, willing her pulse to stop racing. She glanced back in the direction they’d come, worried, then turned her attention back to the street.
“But Jessie darlin’—”
“Don’t But Jessie me. I mean it this time. I should have known it would be a huge mistake to go to Kristen’s farewell party. I wouldn’t even have gone if Mr. Sheridan hadn’t asked me to head the planning committee. Why couldn’t you have stayed home?” Suddenly exhausted by the entire ordeal, Jessie dropped her chin to her chest and began to gently roll her head from shoulder to shoulder, easing the tension from her neck.
“But Jessie, you saw how that young man was lookin’ at you, didn’t you? And I just couldn’t help it, child—he was such a hottie.”
Jessie’s snort of laughter was tinged with hysteria. “Hottie? Where the hell did you pick that up?” Jessie shook her head, still refusing to glance at the presence next to her. “You made me touch him! And I almost—Argh! Do you know how mortifying this is? Never mind the fact that we might have gotten ourselves kicked out. All I can say is thank God my boss didn’t see any of that.” Screwing her eyes shut, Jessie brought her fingertips to her temples, furiously rubbing in little circles. “Forget it. I don’t want to talk about it anymore. Let’s just go home.”
“But—”
“I said forget it. We need to find a cab—” Jessie opened her eyes and raised her head, surprised to find a taxi parked immediately in front of her. Huh. Where’d you come from?
Not about to start looking inside that proverbial gift equine’s oral cavity, Jessie yanked the rear passenger door open. She gestured broadly. “After you.”
Knocking bits of slush from her Doc Martens, Jessie clambered into the back seat herself, slammed the door and collapsed against the vinyl bench. Closing her eyes, she rattled off the building’s address to the cabbie and waited for the vehicle to move. It didn’t.
Cracking one eyelid, Jessie did her best to send a scathing glare toward the driver, only to notice a pair of pale blue eyes staring back at her from the rearview mirror.
“It’s fare-and-a-half for the two of you.”
Jessie blinked, instantly alert. “What?”
The cabbie jerked his head toward the other side of the car. “She doesn’t ride for free, y’know.”
Her head snapping around so quickly she had momentary visions of whiplash, Jessie looked directly at the diaphanous form sprawled on the opposite end of the bench for the first time since leaving the club. “You can see Gram?”
The driver shrugged. “Sure. That her name, then?”
Suddenly aware that all eyes were on her, Gram froze mid-swig. Turning her head to glance first at Jessie then at the cabbie, she lowered her insubstantial hip flask, replaced the stopper, lifted the hem of her satin skirt and tucked the container safely into the frilly garter around her thigh. “Well, it’s not my name, son—it’s what this young lady here calls me—for convenience’s sake, you know. Technically speaking, she’s not my granddaughter, but I think the name is sweet. Especially since I’m much too young to actually have grandchildren myself.” Gram paused, her gaze shrewdly assessing him, then batted her eyelashes flirtatiously. “The name’s actually Rose-Marie, handsome.”
Jessie narrowed her gaze, taking in the specter’s white curls, wrinkled cheeks and bony arms. Too young, my ass. A sudden, unexpected twinge flickered through Jessie’s nipples and darted straight toward her pussy. She groaned, dropping her head back against the headrest. “Gram! Stop that! And your name’s not Rose-Marie. It’s Prunella.” Jessie glanced swiftly at the ID card attached to the back of the cabbie’s headrest and directed her words to
ward the front seat. “Murray, is it? See, Mr. Murray—”
“You can call me Peter. Mr. Murray is my father.”
“Right. Well, Peter, Gram has this thing about not liking her real name, and—”
“Tut, tut, young Jessie,” Gram admonished with a theatrical cluck of her tongue, “a proper lady doesn’t speak so to her elders.”
Beyond irritated, Jessie pressed the heels of both hands into her eyes, willing the entire evening to end. Immediately. “Gram,” she muttered through clenched teeth, “you were a hooker. Why you keep insisting on this ‘proper lady’ bullshit is beyond me.”
“Ah, ah,” Gram admonished, her tone one of complete superiority, “I was a bordello girl, employed at one of the finest establishments in New Orleans. We were certainly considered ladies at the time.”
Jessie dropped her hands into her lap and squinted blurrily at the filmy figure. “Ladies of the evening, maybe. You had sex for money.”
Gram’s long, pointy nose twitched and she nodded, her expression thoughtful. “Evening, morning, afternoon—it didn’t matter. But yes. Those gentlemen paid for the pleasure of my company. And I’ll tell you, missy, my company was in high demand. Did I ever tell you about the time those four sailors came into the bordello—”
“You did, Gram. In detail.” Turning away to face the window, Jessie pressed her burning forehead to the cool glass, abruptly bumping her nose when the cab suddenly joined the stream of traffic.
“Well then, Peter,” Gram chortled, turning her attention back to the cabbie, “I don’t believe you’ve heard this story.” There was the rustle of fabric, then the sound of a healthy gulp. Jessie wondered idly what exactly Gram had in that flask and just how potent it might be—even if it didn’t exist in an earthly state. “It all started on a rainy Friday night…”
Jessie tuned out the old lady’s wavery voice. The last thing she needed right now was anything more to do with sex. Glancing down at her hands in her lap, Jessie could still see her fingers trembling. Tonight had been way too close for comfort. For most of the evening everything had gone smoothly. Gram had even behaved herself, and Jessie had just begun to allow herself to relax and enjoy the farewell party. And then Gram had spotted the tall, dark hunk leaning against the bar. Jessie shuddered with pleasure at the memory. She closed her eyes, allowing herself to relive the moment again.
He was long and lean, with a longish mop of dark hair, a strong, angular jaw, and high cheekbones. His attention was focused on another guy, and the two of them appeared to be deep in discussion.
“Oh yes, Jessie. He’s right, isn’t he, darlin’? Go.” Gram’s raspy whisper in Jessie’s ear had startled her, and the pronouncement was accompanied by a full-body shiver and a rush of heat between her legs.
Clenching her jaw, Jessie growled, “Knock it off, Gram. I mean it—stop now. Don’t do this to me again.”
“You don’t mean that, do you, darlin’? Look at that mouth and those lips. And those long, strong fingers! Oh yes. Now go.”
This time, the command struck Jessie like a shove from behind. Willing herself to not obey, she took a reluctant step forward, followed by another and then another, until she stood at the hunk’s elbow. Unable to stop herself, Jessie placed a hand on the sleeve of his supple brown leather jacket. As he turned to face her, a pair of clear blue eyes met hers. The effect was like a sucker punch to the gut. Unable to control herself, Jessie leaned in, catching a hint of clean aftershave and soap. Her lips barely brushing his earlobe, Jessie murmured, “Dance with me,” and moved back to catch his reaction.
The hunk’s eyebrows arched slightly in surprise. Setting his bottle atop the bar, he turned and gestured to the dance floor. “Lead the way.”
His voice was a rich, low baritone, and the sound of it resonated through Jessie’s body, sending tingles into her extremities, causing her to stumble slightly. One warm palm landed on her hip, helping to right her, and the sensation of contact was explosive. Struggling to regain her composure, Jessie wound her way through a sea of undulating bodies until she found a small gap that would accommodate the two of them. Facing her hunk again, Jessie marveled at her boldness even as she wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing her body tightly against his solid frame. The room suddenly had a surreal, slightly distorted quality, as though she were drunk—but she was assuredly stone sober. The hard lesson of combining Gram with a nightclub and alcohol had been learned ages ago.
His hands sliding around her waist, the hunk shot Jessie another megawatt grin. “So, do you ask strange guys to dance on a regular basis?”
Jessie grinned saucily back at him and pitched her voice louder to be heard over the thumping bass line. “Nope. Just the extremely gorgeous ones.” What the fuck has Gram done to my brain?
The hunk flushed slightly and his grin wavered for a moment, almost as though he’d never been complimented in such a way before. That was a crime, thought Jessie, because he really was exceptionally stunning.
“I’m Nicholas.”
Jessie placed a finger on his lips, silencing him. “No names. I just want to dance with you. Okay?” Sliding her hands down, she slipped them between the edges of his jacket, placing them on his chest. The heat of his body radiated through the cotton material of his dark T-shirt and into her palms. He definitely spent some time at the gym, she thought as her fingertips traced the edges of some very well-defined pecs.
After a moment’s pause, Nicholas grinned and nodded. Grasping her firmly by the hips, he insinuated a leg between hers, tugging her pelvis up against his. The pressure against her pussy was like a match to a fuse—the spark instantaneously raced through her, urging her on. Jessie gasped sharply.
Moving his hips in a slow gyration, Nicholas began to dance, a sensual rhythm that hinted at secret prowess, a promise of unforgettable pleasure.
Matching his give and take, his deliberate stroke, Jessie closed her eyes, allowing her hold on her inner shield to slip just slightly. The sensation of feeling freer than she had in longer than she could remember sent a delicious tremor through her body, even as a voice began muttering urgent warnings in the back of her mind. Mentally hip-checking the nattering noise away, Jessie slipped her arms up around Nicholas’ neck once again, reveling in the exquisite feel of her breasts pressed against the solid wall of his chest. She took a deep breath, again inhaling that clean, masculine aftershave and the delicious underlying scent of one hundred percent, Grade-A male.
Jesus, it’s been way too long. How could I have forgotten just how good men smell? Jessie laughed softly as another thought struck her. I wonder if he tastes just as good?
Brushing her lips against his jaw, Jessie took a small lick, her tongue scraping over the day’s growth of stubble, and savored both the salty flavor and the shudder that rippled through Nicholas’ tall frame. Emboldened, she took a nibble of his earlobe and was rewarded by the leisurely slide of his hands up her waist to her rib cage, stopping just below her breasts.
Holding her breath, Jessie waited, letting out a faint giggle only when his hands reversed their journey, heading back down toward her hips.
Not a slimeball ready to immediately pounce on the first thing thrown his way? Check.
Her inner shield slipping another degree, Jessie relaxed further and grinned to herself. All right, so it was a pretty useless form of quality control because it proved absolutely nothing, but regardless of any and all bizarre forces at work here tonight, she felt the briefest flash of satisfaction that Nicholas wasn’t pure scum, after all. Hell, there had been too many months of being careful to run into disaster now. And instinct was too powerful a thing to be blatantly ignored.
Feeling wicked and wanton in the presence of this entirely edible male, Jessie pressed a short line of kisses along Nicholas’ jaw and tangled her fingers into soft, smooth hair, ridiculously pleased to find it not solidified by an overdose of styling products.
Low maintenance. Check.
Returning to his earlobe again, Jessie
pulled it into her mouth, sucking gently. It was only when Nicholas released the restraint that she realized he’d been keeping himself in check. His fingers tightened on her ribs and a wave of pleasure slid through her at the longing she could sense in his touch.
When his head turned, his lips finding the sensitive skin behind her ear, Jessie’s knees threatened to buckle. Oh God, it had been so long since someone had touched her this way… She tightened her fingers in his hair and moaned appreciatively.
Nicholas’ mouth began to trace a path of kisses that singed her skin as he traveled down her neck to the base of her throat and settled there, laving her flesh with alternating kisses and hot flickers of his tongue.
Groaning, Jessie pressed her hips harder into his. Her panties were soaked and she was suddenly very aware of her clit burning with need, clamoring for attention. Shifting her weight slightly, she tried awkwardly to slide herself up and down his thigh, attempting to relieve the building pressure. The presence of a very hard, very large bulge against her hip made promises that caused her heart to skip a beat.
Holy fuck.
The heavy sensation started in her pelvis. The low thrum, the tightness that signaled the start of unbelievable pleasure presented itself in her awareness like a smack upside the head with a two-by-four.
Dropping her head back, Jessie gasped for oxygen that suddenly seemed nonexistent. Nicholas’ hot, wet mouth settled below her collarbone on the expanse of skin bared by her skintight tank top.
The room beginning to spin out of control, Jessie shuddered as Nicholas’ hands slid upward again, his thumbs brushing the undersides of her breasts, sending a spark of satisfaction straight between her thighs. The wave of bliss echoed through her repeatedly, and Jessie rode it, reveled in it.
And then his thumbs slipped over her rigid nipples.
Driven, feeling wildly out of control, Jessie broke out of the embrace and grabbed his hand. “Come with me.” Turning, she pulled him through the crowd, elbowing her way through the mass of heated bodies to the doorway at the back of the room. The high, narrow corridor beyond, which led to the club’s restrooms, glowed dully with the yellow light emanating from a bare bulb that hung fifteen feet overhead. Unsure how she knew where to go, yet with a sinking suspicion she did her best to ignore, Jessie plowed her way beyond scarred, graffitied wooden restroom doors and beyond drunken loiterers to the hall’s dead end.