Selling Seduction (Your Ad Here #1)

by Allyson Lindt

  His balls tightened, as the images grew more vivid. In his mind, she reached back and guided him in, shifting her position enough he penetrated her. Fingering her clit. The way she’d squirm and gasp, milking his cock, drawing out his climax. Screaming when she came. Fuck, he loved that sound.

  He pumped faster, biting the inside of his cheek, to keep his grunts from carrying too far. Pressure built inside, and his head swam. He pounded his hand, jerking and yanking, until orgasm spilled through him, coating his hand and hitting the tile.

  He finished his shower quickly, rinsing away the physical traces of fantasy and wishing it had cleared his head. He dried off and wrapped a towel around his waist. When he stepped into the master bedroom, Mercy sat at the edge of the mattress, dressed and tapping on her phone.

  She looked up, a smile curling the corners of her mouth. “I was tempted to join you. I’m not sure if you know this, but that bathroom has some powerful acoustics.”

  Had she—?

  “But it sounded like you took care of everything yourself.” She had.

  He appreciated how direct she was and how she expected the same from him. “I would have rather had the company.” His cell-phone rang, shattering the playful mood.

  She nodded toward where it sat on his nightstand. “Second time it’s gone off. I’ll give you some privacy.” And with that, she strolled out of the room.

  A glance at the phone told him it was Liz, and a new flavor of contention filled him. “Hey. I was worried about you.”

  “I figured.” Liz’s voice was tired and raspy. “Is Mercy there?”

  She asked if it would send me running into your arms. Mercy’s words from last night echoed in his head, and the rest of their conversation hit him harder than he expected. “Why would she be? I still don’t understand why she’s not with you.”

  “It’s complicated.”

  “It always is.” He hadn’t meant to say that aloud and wasn’t sure if he was talking about her or his current situation. He didn’t know if keeping this from Liz was better or worse than telling her the truth.

  “Anyway. I was abrupt last night, and I didn’t want to worry you. I’m letting you know I’m okay.”

  “I appreciate it. Let me know if you want to talk about it.” Not that he’d have any good advice. Nothing that didn’t make him a hypocrite. Maybe Mercy was right; he couldn’t be with her, court clients Mercy might or might not also be pursing, and watch out for Liz. And Mercy was the one variable, leaving in just a few days.

  The conclusion bounced around in Ian’s head as he dressed. He found Mercy on the couch. If he had to say goodbye, he was talking advantage of what time they had left—asking her to stay here the rest of the weekend. He also had to tell her he’d talked to Dean. It was her father, and it wasn’t Ian’s right to make that decision for her.

  “What’s up?” Her light question interrupted his rambling thoughts. “You’re kind of spacing out and staring.”

  He shook his head, to socket all the thoughts into their individual compartments. “Admiring the view.”

  “Shameless flatterer.” She blushed.

  “And you should know, though the timing on this is bad, I don’t want to keep secrets from you. I talked to Dean yesterday.”

  Her smile wilted. “I don’t want to know about your clients.”

  “He called as your father. He’d like to talk to you. Asked me to give you his number, if you were interested.”

  “I see.” She stood and grabbed her coat. “Do you have time to drop me off at the hotel before you meet Jonathan? I can call a cab otherwise.”

  “I’ll take you.” That went better than Ian expected. With any luck, the rest of the weekend would continue on a similar upward trend.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Mercy looked around the hotel room one last time. It felt empty, despite the elegant furnishings and extravagant decor. This getaway was supposed to be fun. Now her father wanted to talk to her, her best friend didn’t, and her childhood crush was letting her crash at his way-too-big-for-one-person house for the rest of the weekend. Oh, and despite her resolution to stay detached, she didn’t want to leave Ian behind. Not that she saw any alternative.

  Her world had flipped on its head, leaving her dizzy and lost. She called Liz again—for the third time since she got back, five hours ago, and went straight to voicemail again. “You already know who this is. I’ll stop stalking you, but not willingly. Please call me when you’re ready to talk?”

  She wouldn’t check out of the room, in case Liz came back after all. A small tremor of relief settled inside that she didn’t have to stay here alone, though.

  Ian had messaged to say he’d be there soon. She let the door latch shut behind her and made her way to the elevator. As she stepped into the box, her phone buzzed. A string of text messages from Liz scrolled in.

  If we talk, it will only be about work.

  At least for now.

  Not about that.

  I’ll take your calls. But not today.

  Mercy gave a sad smile to no one in particular, and stepped into the lobby. She sent back, I understand. Let me know?

  We’ll be okay. Liz’s answer came quickly. But I need time.

  Take what you need. I’ll be here, Mercy said.

  Liz’s reply was, I know :)

  That was promising, right? Mercy hoped so.

  Ian was waiting near the entrance when she rounded the corner. He met her halfway and took her bags. “You could have called a porter to help you.”

  “It felt indulgent.” Some of the tension in her neck evaporated at the blandness and lack of expectation in the exchange.

  He loaded her stuff into the back of his SUV, then held the passenger door open for her. “That’s the point. You’re staying at a high-end resort, you indulge.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind next time. How was the snow?”

  “A few days old, but still fantastic.” Ian started the car and directed it toward his place. “How was the hotel cable?”

  She could do small talk and meaningless banter. “Limited and distracting. Perfect combination.”

  “Star Trek marathon on Syfy?”

  “Caught the tail end of it.” She sank further into her seat, stress slipping from her joints. This was what she needed—to be in a different place for a little while. She wasn’t sure if he knew that or was playing it by ear, but she was grateful either way. “Turned it off when wrestling started.”

  “What?” His question was exaggerated, laced with sarcasm and indignation. “Stories are stories.”

  “You’re right. But sometimes a girl wants more explosions and less caveman-like chest thumping.”

  “There go this evening’s plans. Guess we’ll have to order takeout instead.” He glanced sideways long enough to wink, before turning back to the road.

  It felt good to laugh. “Does that Indian place still deliver? They’re still around, right?”

  “Yes and yes. We can stream Star Trek if you feel like you missed out.”

  The scenery passed, familiar, blanketed with white. She watched the hills roll over the top of each other, as they headed further up the mountain. “Not really. I got to see Kirk scream Kaaaahhhhnnnn. So I saw the best bit.”

  “What kind of marathon ends after two movies?” He backed the vehicle into the driveway and stopped with her door next to the front walk.

  “The crappy kind,” she said.

  They both climbed from the car, and Ian strode to the tailgate, to grab her bags. When he shut the door, a sheet of snow slid from the edge of the roof and hit his head, before crumbling in a fine powder and settling to the ground.

  “Shit.” He shook himself, and snow flew everywhere.

  The scene, combined with the stress of the last day or so, snapped something inside Mercy. She giggled.

  He looked up, brows raised. “You think that’s funny?”

  The fact he couldn’t keep a straight face, despite his stern voice, drew her la
ughter out harder. “Kind of.”

  “Really?” He bent and vanished behind the SUV. When he reappeared, he had a handful of snow and lobbed it in her direction. “How about now?”

  She squealed and ducked, reaching for a weapon of her own. When she looked up again, he was gone. “Ian?” She couldn’t keep the amusement from her voice.

  “Nope. Not coming out.” The direction of his voice indicated he hadn’t left his post.

  She hid as well, straining her ears and deciding from which direction was better, to sneak up on him. She crept forward, listening, watching the shadows under the car.

  “Boo.” His whisper teased her cheek.

  She squealed and whirled, heart leaping into her chest when she realized how close he stood.

  “That wasn’t for me, was it?” He grabbed her wrists and pinned them to the car, making her drop the snowball.

  His heat chased the ice from her skin and drained the chill from her palms. Her laughter died in her throat when her gaze met his, and his familiar, soothing scent filled her thoughts. “Not anymore.”

  “Are you sure?” He dipped his head, and trailed his nose up the side of her neck, never making contact.

  She sighed and tilted into him. “I’m sorry—what? I forgot all but how good that feels.”

  “Yeah?” He tightened his grip and kissed up her neck. “How about now?”

  “That’s pretty decent too.”

  “Maybe we should take this inside.” A heavy current ran through his words and sent flames racing over her skin.

  “If it were warmer, I’d let you take me outside.”

  He shifted his hands, so their fingers intertwined, and brushed his lips across hers. “Another thing I adore about you,” he said.

  Adore. How was it possible for a word to have so much power? This one spilled through her and lit her senses up as much as his touch did.

  “Inside?” he asked. “Just you and me. No background. No history. Nothing but us.”

  That sounded like the perfect way to spend her evening. “Yes. God, yes.”

  *

  Ian would stick to his promise. Tonight was the only point in time that existed. He used that to bulldoze any concerns about family, business, or where Mercy would and wouldn’t be on Monday. How she yielded when he kissed her, her moan mixing with his growl as she leaned back against the door to close it, helped chase thought away.

  He set her bags to the side, without breaking the lip-lock. He wasn’t sure how he managed that, but she tasted too good—felt too right, molded against him—to let go of her for long. The smell of winter combined with her scent, and drilled into his head. Seconds later, their coats joined her luggage, before he pressed into her again.

  He needed to feel her skin. He slid a hand under her sweater, glided it up her stomach, and shoved her bra up.

  She hissed and arched her back, digging into him. “Your hands are cold.”

  “Whose fault is that?”

  Her gasps grew in speed, and she thrust against his fingers when he pinched her nipple. “Yours. I’m pretty sure.” Panting punctuated her words.

  “I think you’re right about that.” The playing was fun—the way his hard cock strained against his zipper; her squirms and sighs; the heat between them melting away the chill, even as it seeped through the door. “I think this one is getting warmer, though.” He dragged his thumb over her skin, and she whimpered.

  She ground into him. “I’m not sure I can hold out for a slow buildup.” Her voice was strained.

  “I swear you and I are on the same wavelength so often.” Still massaging her breast, he moved his other hand to her waist. He popped the button on her jeans and drew down the zipper. He dipped between her legs and pushed her panties aside. Fuck, she was wet. Hot and eager.

  She sucked in a sharp breath through her teeth when he trailed an icy finger over her clit.

  “Too much?” He knew it wasn’t, from the teeth marks she left on her bottom lip and her bumping against his touch.

  She shook her head, and her hips rocked in time with the circles he traced around her sex. His dick jerked each time her clit pulsed against his skin. He wanted to be buried inside her. Her pleasure was the only thing holding his desire at bay. She moved her hands to the back of his neck and dug her nails in, the harder he rubbed. The familiar sounds of her nearing climax filled his thoughts. She cried out when she came, still shoving into his touch. As her gyrations slowed, she crushed her mouth to his, dancing her tongue in a seductive rhythm.

  When she broke away, her eyes shone crystal blue and clear. Her playful, innocent smile was betrayed when she traced his shaft through his jeans and said, “Fuck me, please?”

  “I love it when you talk like that.” He kissed her protruding lower lip, then caught it between his teeth. “Condoms are in my room.”

  She nodded toward the pile of coats. “Front pocket of my purse.” She broke away, and the chill that tried to rush in burned off when it hit Ian’s skin.

  When she bent at the waist, he studied the curve of her ass, unable to drag his gaze from the view.

  She handed him the foil square, and he grabbed her hips and pulled her back into his chest. “You’re so tempting.” Cold and shampoo teased his senses. He trailed his hands down her arms, grasped her fingers, and raised her palms to press them against the door. It didn’t matter they still wore their shoes and the rest of their clothes, his patience was gone. He dragged her jeans to her knees, and her whimpers provoked him further. It took more time than he wanted, to yank his zipper open, free his cock, and roll on the rubber.

  She bent forward, teasing him with a glimpse of her glistening slit between her legs, and the last of his restraint evaporated. He gripped her hips with one hand, fisted his shaft with the other, and drove into her. She was so tight, squeezing as he glided forward. Friction built, from her legs still being together, and every time he pounded, his zipper left faint marks on her butt cheeks.

  She thrust in time with him, soft whines tearing from her throat.

  He sank into the stimuli, thoughts fuzzing as climax built inside. When she clenched around him, screaming with orgasm, spots swam in front of his eyes. He tried to hold back. Wanted to draw the moment out. His balls tightened, and the need for release roared in his head. He dug his fingers into her hips when he spilled inside of her, pounding until he was spent, and even then not wanting to slow.

  As the frantic need ebbed, contentment seeped in, to take its place. He helped her stand and rested his forehead against her neck, still struggling to catch his breath. When she wobbled, he settled a hand on her stomach, to steady her.

  “I think I need to sit.” Her laugh was tired, but the stress from earlier wasn’t there.

  He guided her toward the couch, trying to ignore his legs’ desire to give out. “Stay there. I’ll get you water.”

  A little later, he disposed of the condom, and they cleaned up. He sat on the couch, one leg extended on the cushions, the foot of the other on the floor, and Mercy resting with her back against his chest. She pulled his arms tighter around her. Neither of them said much, but he was content to place his hand over her ribs and feel her heartbeat.

  “Still want to order Indian?” Her question vanished in the crackle of the fire.

  He danced his fingers over her chest. “You’re not full?”

  “Rein in your ego, big boy. Woman cannot survive on sex alone. I think that’s biblical.” She laughed.

  He loved that sound. “I think you have to be bathing on the roof, and I have to be a powerful king, for this to be biblical.”

  She turned her head to look at him. “You’ve got an outdoor hot tub, right? And technically, you’re the ruler of your empire. If watching’s a kink…”

  “I think it’s safe to say at this point most things involving you are turn-ons.” He snapped his mouth shut before he could make the same mistake he’d made too many times since she strolled back into his life. Swallowed his, I wish you didn’t ha
ve to go tomorrow. He wanted to ask if she’d consider staying longer or coming back after her presentation to KaleidoMation, but he’d promised no past or future, and he wasn’t going to spoil the moment.

  Besides, he couldn’t do that to her. It wasn’t his right to ask her to uproot herself for him. “Indian food it is.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Mercy had gotten more good sleep this week than she remembered getting in any single block in her life, and all instances tied back to waking up next to Ian. It sucked that her work wasn’t blessed with the same sense of satisfaction. She’d lost almost the entire week, and she flew out tomorrow, to pitch to KaleidoMation.

  She pressed her naked body against Ian’s, memorizing every inch of him as they molded together. Eyes closed, she wished the looming bitterness of having to leave didn’t mar the sweetness of this moment. “We should get dressed.”

  “I guess.” He kissed her on the forehead.

  It took a force of will to step out of his grasp. They’d showered together this morning—another fantastic moment for the mental scrapbook—and the euphoria lingered on her skin. “I really have to work.”

  “You can use the study.” He pulled clothes from drawers and dressed. “I’ll give you all the space and privacy you need.”

  She was getting addicted to the sight of him. She dragged her gaze away and tugged on her own clothes. “Give me a few hours to wrap things up, and tonight I’m all yours.”

  “But just tonight.”

  She couldn’t make herself confirm it. They both knew it was true. It had been one hell of a week, the kind of thing she’d never forget, but tomorrow morning was their expiration date. She wouldn’t dwell on that. They’d do what they had up to this point, make the most of the moment, and then it would be time to move on with life.

  Despite the resolution, her heart clenched and protested, making it difficult for her to cling to the words. She resisted the impulse to kiss Ian, and headed for the door instead. “I’ll be downstairs.”

  * * * *