[Invitation to Eden 24.0] How to Tempt a Tycoon

by Daire StDenis

  He grins. “Good. I like this truthful side of you.”

  “I’m always truthful.”

  His one raised brow tells me he thinks otherwise.

  “Monte Carlo was an exception.”

  “Stop swimming away from me. I’m not going to ravish you.”

  “Maybe that’s what I’m hoping.”

  He laughs. God, is there anything sexier than a naked, wet man, dripping and aroused, laughing at something you’ve said? Nothing comes to mind at the moment. Of course, my mind is pretty much blank because all my awareness is on my pinched nipples and my throbbing pussy.

  “Can I ask you to do something for me?” It’s a question but his tone is so damned commanding that I’m unable to say no.

  “Yes.”

  “Come here.”

  “Okay.”

  “Will you please take off your bikini bottoms now?”

  I feign frustration, but with him so close and my body so tuned into him, I can’t wait to strip down.

  “Do you need help?”

  “No.” I yank my bottoms off and toss them in the general direction of my top.

  “Now, tell me how your vagina feels.”

  “Lonely.”

  His eyes crinkle around the edges. “Describe it for me.” He comes closer. “How do you feel in the water?”

  “Nice.”

  “You can do better.” He reaches for me underwater. At first I think he’s going to cup me again, but he doesn’t. He swishes his hand back and forth creating an underwater whirlpool. “Close your eyes and tell me how it feels.”

  “It’s...nice. It tickles a little.”

  “Spread your legs.”

  “Well, that’s unsanitary.” He’s got me so bamboozled that now I’m saying the first stupid thing that comes into my head.

  “Feel the water. The movement. The temperature. How does it feel on your labia? Your clitoris?”

  “It’s cool, particularly when I open my legs.”

  “Mmm.”

  “It’s soft, it feels good.”

  I feel Christophe inch closer. He’s not touching me, but he’s there. “Would you believe,” he says quietly, “that I can feel the heat from your pussy through the water?”

  I open my eyes. “You cannot!”

  “I can.”

  “I don’t believe you.”

  His eyes connect with mine. He takes one tiny step closer and his cock is right between my legs. He guides it there and then leaves it. I feel his pulse against my thigh. Bending down, he whispers, “I have a very sensitive penis.”

  I swallow. “Lucky you.”

  “Mmm.”

  His hand is on my hip and then slips around to the back of me, curving around my ass, barely skimming my skin.

  “Imagine,” he whispers. “If I can feel the heat of your pussy through the water, how good it would feel to be inside of you.”

  “Is that what you want?”

  “Yes.”

  Fuck!

  I should jump him.

  Right now.

  But, do I?

  No.

  Do I want to?

  Yes, absolutely.

  So why don’t I? Why do I stand in the water, limp and lifeless, like Christophe’s voice is the secret to sapping all of Tessa’s power to move?

  “Are you up for an experiment?”

  “What kind of experiment?” I may not jump him but I do twitch my hips a bit so that his fingers are positioned where I want them.

  “Do you remember the taste test in Monte Carlo?”

  “Mmm.” I don’t hear what he’s saying. I’m too busy moving my hips to direct his hand between my legs.

  “Tessa?”

  “The scotch thing?” I ask, hazily.

  “Yes.” His fingers move gently, stroking my ass, my pussy lips, never quite reaching my clit.

  “Of course I remember.” I try to anticipate his next move, twisting to catch him off guard and forcing his touch where I want it.

  “Let’s do it again.”

  “With scotch?”

  “With sex.”

  I stop gyrating under the water. “Sex is nothing like the scotch incident.” I cross my arms over my chest. “I am the first to admit that I know nothing about drinking scotch. However...” I wag my finger at him. “At the risk of sounding arrogant, I do know a thing or two about sex.”

  “Is that right.”

  “Yes.”

  “You’re an expert.”

  “Well,” I shrug playfully. “If you say so.”

  He leans in. “So am I.”

  “Really. Why doesn’t that surprise me?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “So it comes down to who is the bigger expert. Let’s see.” I put my finger to my lip and tap. “I may not be a professional race car driver, a deep sea diver, IRONMAN competitor, European sail board champion, or skydiving-junkie—”

  “You’ve done your research,” he says smugly.

  I plow on, pretending like he didn’t interrupt. “While you were busy doing all that, I’ve been busy concentrating my efforts in two endeavors.” I hold up one finger. “Fixing businesses that are broken...” I hold up another. “...and making love. They are my specialties.”

  “You make a valid point.”

  “Yes. So let’s combine our taste-of-sex test with a little wager. What do you say?”

  “I’d say, you’ve piqued my interest.” He glances down at himself.

  Holy fuck. I have piqued his interest. His interest is hard and erect and I’m about to pique it a lot more. I take him in hand, fondling him—skillfully, if I do say so myself. The way his eyes roll back into his skull right before he closes his lids lets me know how much he likes it.

  “What’s the bet?” His voice is hoarse.

  “We’ll make love my way and then we’ll make love your way. Afterwards, we’ll decide who wins.”

  He opens his eyes. They are burning with playful desire.

  “What are the stakes?”

  “Cash to our charity of choice?”

  “No. Something more personal. The winner should decide on how this relationship proceeds.”

  My hand stills. “I don’t know about that...”

  “Oh, I see.” He unwraps my hand from around his erection. “You’re going to lose and you are afraid you will not like what I propose.”

  “No. That’s not it at all. I’m completely confident I’ll win.”

  “Then you have nothing to worry about.”

  He’s right. I don’t. But his tone tells me I do. I hate that. “Fine, let’s shake on it.”

  He takes my hand but before we shake he says. “One rule.”

  “What?”

  “Complete honesty. No faking.”

  “Yes. I agree.”

  “We must be ourselves or who we were.”

  “Of course. Wait. What does that mean, ‘who we were?’”

  “It means that when I pick you up from the casino tonight, as if we are meeting for the first time, or we’re lovers reuniting—”

  “Meeting for the first time,” I say eagerly, liking this game already.

  “I am going to show you the old Christophe. The one I was before I understood what I could become.”

  “The old Christophe?”

  “Yes.”

  “What’s he like?”

  “You shall see.”

  “Wonderful.” I pat his damp chest. “I can’t wait to meet him.”

  Chapter Fifteen - Christophe

  The casino at the resort is small by Monte Carlo standards, and puny by Vegas standards, but it’s got to be the most unique casino I’ve ever visited. It’s part glitz, part cabaret, part sex club. The atmosphere is frenetic, lights, bells, pounding music, people dressed up, people in various stages of undress, people making out, people doing a hell of a lot more than that...

  “Wow,” I say, taking in the surroundings with a grin. “This is my kind of place.”

  A tall
man wearing a bowtie, a G-string and a smile greets me just inside the door. “My name is Col. Is there anything I can do for you, Ms. Savage? Any experience or fantasy I can help you fulfill?”

  I can’t keep the stupid grin off my face. My mind races in a million different directions as my gaze drifts from his secretive smile, down his broad, muscular chest, to his narrow hips and bulging package. It’s obvious the guy is erect and only the thin spandex of his microscopic underwear is keeping him in check.

  Perhaps when I was younger, playful and searching for meaningless—albeit fun and exciting—encounters, I would totally go for this guy. But that’s not why I’m here tonight. I’m here to prove to Christophe Chevalier that I am perfectly happy with my sex life. And, yes, to prove I’m no slouch in the sex department. And, of course, to win our bet.

  “Do you have any high stakes rooms? I’m supposed to...” I just about mention that I’m supposed to be meeting someone here, but the whole idea was that Christophe and I would pretend like we’ve never met before. God. Why did I agree to meet Christophe at the casino, of all places? That’s giving him the upper hand.

  Col points to a corner of the room where a neon sign of two nudes, a guy and a girl, blink on and off in green and pink. “That room is high stakes.”

  “What games are played there?”

  “Strip poker.”

  “No way.”

  He nods in confirmation.

  “How do I join?”

  “Red light means the game is already in progress, yellow means it’s about to start and green means the area is free for a new game.”

  “Perfect.”

  It takes me half an hour to make my way over there. There is just so much going on from a drag queen show on the stage, to watching a pair of hot dudes being auctioned off with the promise of a threesome to the highest bidder. Damn. The place is crazy. Crazy fun. Crazy sexy. Crazy, crazy!

  In amongst the guests and entertainment, however, is a presence of tall, burly men wearing the uniform of the island: black t-shirts, khaki shorts and headsets. They are the bouncers, the enforcers, the ones who keep the guests from getting too out of control. Man would I like to take a look at their training booklet.

  While I’m watching Cher—I swear the performer looks exactly like her—singing a spot on version of If I Could Turn Back Time, I feel a presence behind me. I don’t have to look; I would recognize the scent of his cologne anywhere. Funny how the aroma of something so unique elicits an immediate tightening in my belly and a tickling across my shoulder blades.

  “I’m going to fuck you later tonight.” The statement is a whisper in my ear that trickles down my neck to my spine.

  I gasp and swivel just in time to see the backside of him, the back of his dark suit jacket, his dark hair, asserting himself through the crowd.

  Wow. Like that I’m quivering for him.

  Bastard!

  I finally end up at the door of the strip poker room and it’s divided by a layer of hanging beads followed by a screen of hanging feathers and finally a mist of scented water. I enter, slightly damp, with every nerve ending tuned in to whatever is going to happen inside. The room is larger than I expected, divided into quarters with a central, circular bar sporting a clear glass bar top. The bartender is nude and so is the wait staff, though their bodies are painted in interesting designs, like walking pieces of erotic art. There’s a game going on in one corner and people laughing and chanting, “Take it off, take it off, take it off...”

  There are two empty sections lit in green and another with a yellow glow haloing it. Standing there with his arms around two women is Christophe.

  Fuck!

  Already one step ahead of me.

  I wipe the smile off my face and head toward the table, vowing not to meet his gaze.

  “Are you in?” a blond-haired man asks as I near. “We’ve got room for one more.”

  “Yep. I’m in.” I sashay right up to the table, making sure to stand across from Christophe and not beside him. “I’m Tessa.”

  “Glad to have you Tessa,” the blond guy says. “I’m Kev and this is Tyler.”

  I shake their hands. Where Kev is blond and tanned, Tyler has dark hair and pale skin, so pale it almost glows, reminding me of every vampire image I’ve ever seen. His green eyes stand out like jewels because of his contrasting features.

  He must use a hell of a strong sun block. Makes me wonder why someone like him would choose a beach destination to holiday. The two men are standing close together but I can’t decide if they’re here together as friends or more. Guess I’ll find out.

  Next my gaze slides to the exotic dark-haired beauty standing beneath Christophe’s left arm. “Mia,” she says when our eyes meet. She holds out her hand while giving me a pouty, sexy smile.

  “Hi.” We shake and her hand is as soft and delicate as the rest of her. I slide my attention to the next person, who just happens to be the man I’m pretending I don’t know. The one who just whispered dirty things in my ear ten minutes ago.

  “Christophe.” He extends his hand. “Have we met before?” His gaze has that naughty, knowing look and he holds onto my hand a moment longer than necessary.

  “I don’t think so.”

  I turn to the woman on the other side of him.

  “I’m Lucy.” She smiles, tentatively, like she’s embarrassed and then ducks out from under Christophe’s arm.

  “I hope you’re a good player,” Kev says to me, eying my outfit.

  “Why?”

  He smiles wide, a Colgate, toothy grin. “Well, unless I’m mistaken...” He plucks at the spaghetti strap of my sundress. “You have exactly two articles of clothing to lose.”

  I glance down at my dress—the kind with the built in cups—picturing the tiny pink thong I’m wearing beneath it. Yep, that’s it, that’s all. I’m going to be out of the game in two hands. Crap! I sure didn’t plan this very well. “Does footwear or jewelry count?”

  Four of them shake their heads, laughing. Lucy’s brow furrows and I can just picture her counting the articles of clothing she’s wearing. I’m guessing six.

  “I have a suggestion,” Christophe says, his cobalt eyes dark and corrupt, the right side of his mouth twisted in amusement. “Once we have no more clothes to lose, we play for dares. Until there’s only one left standing. Clothed.”

  “That’s a good idea,” Mia says, rubbing the front of Christophe’s chest, not in a possessive way but certainly suggestive.

  “Works for me,” Tyler says undressing Lucy with his dark gaze, licking his lips like she’s edible and he’s starving. Well, that answers the question about Tyler.

  When I meet Kev’s eyes, he’s still got that same happy, puppy-dog grin he’d been wearing the moment I walked up. The infectiousness of his smile pulls me in and makes me smile right back.

  “Okay,” Kev says. “We take turns dealing, the game is Five-card Draw, one-eyed jacks wild. Two draw rounds of up to three cards. Any questions?”

  Lucy raises her hand, as if this is a college class. “Sorry, I don’t play poker a lot. That’s thirty cards on the deal and potentially thirty-six cards on the draws. There aren’t enough cards.”

  “We shuffle the discards.”

  “Oh. Okay.” She nods quickly and blinks. By the way she’s fidgeting with the ring on the chain around her neck, this is uncharted territory for her.

  I hide a smile. Lucy’s A-type personality has just been broadcast to the table and Tyler isn’t the only one intent on tainting her and her innocent, straight-laced nature. Under different circumstances, I’d be tempted to corrupt her, just a little. She is exactly my type...when I play with girls that is.

  Kev shuffles the cards and deals.

  The game is on.

  The first few rounds do not go as expected. I win them all. I don’t know why that is, I usually suck at poker but I guess I just have the luck of the draw tonight. I got a full house my first hand, two pairs the second and then a high straight on
the third.

  Mia loses on purpose. Can’t say I blame her. She’s got a gorgeous body, large breasts, a narrow waist and womanly hips. Her skin is olive colored and smooth and I know this because I can pretty much see all of it as she is down to her electric blue panties and a belly button ring.

  Kev’s attention is off me and fully on her. If I keep winning, I’m going to see if I can make that happen for him, even though Mia seems taken by Christophe. Perhaps, especially because she seems taken by Christophe. Unfortunately for her, that’s not going to happen, unless she’s into a threesome with me in the mix.

  Lucy is down to her camisole and boy-cut undies and, after arguing that a belt is definitely an article of clothing, Kev is down to only his boxers. Tyler is shirtless, sockless, and beltless.

  It was like Christophe knew he should dress for strip poker. The man is wearing so many articles of clothing he could lose another two rounds and still have his underwear on. Who the hell wears socks and expensive Italian shoes at a beach resort?

  Miraculously, I win the next round as well, leaving Kev and Mia buck.

  “Okay you two,” I say. “I want you to kiss, but no touching.”

  They turn to me in unison and cry, “No touching?”

  “Nope. If you do, you’re out.”

  Kev practically leaps over to Mia’s side, standing as close to her as he can physically get without skin to skin contact. He ducks his head down and Mia goes up on tiptoes. Their lips meet and it’s a fairly quick, though juicy, kiss.

  “You can do better than that.”

  Kev flashes me a wide smile. “Damn straight.” Ignoring my condition, he wraps his hands around Mia’s waist, lifts her up onto the high table, moves between her legs and gives her a thoroughly deep, thoroughly wet kiss. Their tongues dance for all to see, their hips gyrate together and their hands frantically tug at one another as if they’ve got more clothes to remove.

  When they finally break apart, Mia rests her head against Kev’s chest. With a huge grin, he says, “Looks like we’re out.” Then he picks Mia up and carries her off.

  Lucy watches them go with a worried expression and then glances beneath her lashes at Tyler. I’m so confident I’ll win the next round, I’m already thinking about what the dare should be for Lucy and Tyler. The problem is, I don’t pay as much attention to my cards as I should and when we reveal our cards, Christophe has a flush—dammit—beating my queens and twos.