She just didn’t know that yet.
“Now that was the real thing,” he murmured into her hair, nuzzling along her ear. She’d kissed him. Finally. It had been more than a concession on her part. It had been an expression of her need for him.
She pulled back and stared at him. “How do you do that?”
“Do what?”
She fluttered her hands. “I don’t know. It was just ordinary sex, nothing kinky or off the wall. And yet”—she shrugged, searching for words—“it wasn’t ordinary at all.”
“Another best?”
She slapped at his arm playfully. “You are so cocky and full of yourself.”
“Which means it was another best.” He felt cocky. Sort of. When he was inside her, she was all he needed. It was a slightly terrifying feeling, and yet it was what he craved from her, what this whole challenge had been about. He’d set out to prove that he could be all she needed, too.
Only he couldn’t explain to her why their relatively vanilla sex—no toys, no props, no fantasies, just his mouth, his hands, his cock, and most importantly his mind—had been the best. She had to discover the answer for herself. It was a mind and a heart thing in addition to physical attraction that transmuted pleasure into passion.
Since she hadn’t answered him, he took her chin in his hand and forced her to look at him. “Good enough to remain exclusive?”
She chose a glib answer, revealing nothing, giving nothing more than she’d already given. “At some point, you’re going to set an impossible goal for yourself. You can’t keep on topping the last time every time.”
Another irresistible challenge. “Try me, sweetheart.”
She sat up, arching and raising her arms above her head, then twisted her body, a long sigh escaping her. The slide of her flesh around him and the sounds she made in her throat filled his balls and cock. She felt it and raised one brow.
“You’re cocky and insatiable.” Bracing her hands on the side of the chair, she rose and planted her feet on the carpet. Then she yawned. Pointedly.
His stomach sank as he removed the condom and threw it in the plastic-lined trash can beside the chair. She’d boot him out now. She was two steps forward and one step back. Sometimes two. Which put him at the exact spot he’d been before.
Except that she’d kissed him. He’d made her laugh. And she’d begun the escalation tonight.
He rose. Without her high heels, she was pleasantly petite next to him. “I’m tired, too. Let’s go to bed.”
Nothing like forcing the issue.
She stared at him, her hands on her hips, not one iota of self-consciousness about her nudity or his.
“All right.”
The bottom dropped out of his stomach. And then he almost laughed. He’d been prepared for rejection, which was par for the course with Stacy. Instead she’d given him...What? He couldn’t be sure. It could be another trick. Another tease. Whatever. He’d take the bonus.
He folded her beneath his arm and led her to the door. “Can I use your toothbrush? I didn’t bring one.”
“No, you cannot use mine. I’ve got another one in the drawer. You can use that.”
And leave it behind for the next time. And the next time.
Because, in the end, even if took fricking years, he would win this challenge.
* * * * *
She had a digital clock, but still, Stacy could almost hear it ticking in the darkness. Jud had filled up her bathroom with his size and presence and now dominated her bed, wrapping himself around her like a big wooly bear rug.
His breathing evened out and deepened. If he wasn’t asleep already, he would be soon. But though she’d said she was tired and followed it with that big yawn, she couldn’t sleep.
Why on earth had she let him stay?
Because he felt good. It was as simple as that. Jud felt good. Being unsettled about the idea of letting him spend the night was like admitting he was somehow important to her. So she let him stay. His cock fit her perfectly, his taste tantalized her lips. And he made her laugh.
Sex was always fun. Well, of course, she wouldn’t do it if it weren’t. But Jud made it...more than fun. That was the best way to describe it. More than fun. No, no. That wasn’t right. What they’d done was, quite simply, more than just sex. A mere rearranging of words gave the thought a whole new meaning.
She liked young men. She liked variety. Both things made her feel desirable, sexy, young, and vital. One more man conquered gave her one more opportunity to shake her fist at Time. She liked control. She liked telling men what to do. She liked feeling that she was teaching her lovers valuable lessons for future generations of lovers.
But she liked the way Jud made her feel on the inside. Oh God, she loved it. There were so many things, above and beyond just the physical act. When one of her interludes was over, she recalled a general replay of the event, but not every word, every breath, every look. With Jud, she remembered everything. In her mind right now, she could recite that whole speech about how much he loved women. Word for word. It made her feel ridiculously dreamy on the inside. It hadn’t been about why he loved women in general, it was why he wanted her in particular. It was damn near a serenade.
She challenged him to give her the best orgasm without benefit of any props but his body. He’d done her one better. He’d made her laugh and revealed the mischievous little boy still lurking in the man’s body.
He’d shown her the things she’d been missing in her quest for variety and youthfulness. She’d gone for quantity instead of quality. Did she feel any less afraid of growing old? No. Did she feel any more sated? No.
Did she really want another woman to touch him, have him, lick him, enjoy him? Hell no.
So why not give the man a chance? An exclusive chance. Why not give that chance to herself? She was sure the owner of a sex club had myriad ideas with which to tantalize her.
And if he smiled at her with that naughty little boy smile while he did it? She might never let him go.
She nudged him with her elbow. “Jud, we haven’t tried phone sex.”
He answered immediately, even though a moment before, she’d been sure he was asleep. “I’d love to do you with phone sex.”
Phone sex would be really good. She’d engaged in it before, but Jud was...inventive. She figured he would add a few unexpected twists. What else? She’d done the romantic dinners overlooking a brilliant skyline, she’d done down and dirty sex in front of a crowd. But she hadn’t just been with a man since she was in her twenties. Another thing she’d missed out on over the years.
“I want to see the pyramids in Egypt. Not just Giza, but all of them.”
His chest rumbled against her back. She couldn’t tell if he was laughing or having a heart attack. “We can do that.”
“And I want to have a picnic on Machu Picchu.”
“I never would have suspected a bunch of old ruins would interest you.”
“They’re not ruins, they’re history, and they’re vast.”
“I agree. I just never would have guessed you’d care one way or the other. Deuce Bigalow: Male Gigolo and now Machu Picchu and the pyramids at Giza. You amaze me.”
She laughed, burrowing deeper against him and the erection that was rising along the crease of her butt. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me.”
“There’s a lot I’m dying to learn.”
“And there’s so many things I don’t know about you.” Not sex things. But how he grew up. His so-called wild days that he’d promised to tell her about. The books he read. She didn’t even know if he liked to read. She’d thought she knew him, but there was so much mystery she’d never even bothered to question before. “Teach me everything, Jud.”
His arm tightened beneath her breasts. “You do realize that could take a long, long time.”
She rolled to face him. “I do.” And it felt right.
He raised a brow. “What about variety?”
“I’m sure you’re up to the ch
allenge of providing it.” He’d proven that. Just as she’d proven to herself that the pattern she’d established needed some...improvement.
“Is this a standing invitation then?”
She shook her head. “No. You’ve got too many standing invitations out there as it is.”
“Actually, that’s not true, sweetheart.” He tucked her hair behind her ear. “No one else but you ever received one.”
“You’re kidding.” The idea turned over in her stomach, and settled. Wonderfully.
“Just you. I wanted to make sure you kept coming back.”
Despite everything he’d said to her over the last few nights, it was only just now dawning on her that she’d been his obsession. Yesterday, the idea would have been frightening, today, it felt irresistibly good.
And she wanted more, a lot more. “Well then, let me extend you an exclusive open invitation”—she put the tips of her fingers to her chest—“to me. All of me. With no expiration date.” She traced his lips. “And no one else has ever received one of those, either.”
He leaned his forehead against hers and let out a long sigh. “Does this mean I won?”
“You know, I don’t remember you being so cocky during our late night discussions. We’re going to have to work on that.” She nipped his bottom lip, thinking about all the ways she could bring him to his knees. “And incidentally, it means we both won.”
“I was just waiting for you to see it my way.” Then he kissed the tip of her nose. “Now, let’s talk about the cop and his nightstick. I know a place I can rent—”
She clamped a hand over his mouth. “Surprise me.”
If you missed the first two in the Open Invitation series, you can find them here:
Invitation to Seduction, Book 1
Invitation to Pleasure, Book 2
Jasmine’s heartbreaking series about family tragedy and family healing…
Somebody’s Lover
The Jackson Brothers, Book 1
Copyright 2012 Jasmine Haynes
Cover design by Rae Monet Inc
Previously published in 2005
Widowed three years ago and the mother of two, Taylor Jackson is starting to feel that life as a woman is passing her by. Always somebody’s daughter-in-law, somebody’s mother, or somebody’s sister-in-law, Taylor longs to be somebody’s secret lover.
Taylor was his brother’s wife, and now his brother’s widow, untouchable yet irresistible to Jace Jackson. When he discovers her secret fantasies, Jace swears he’ll be the one to make them reality.
But can Jace make Taylor see he’s not just the man in her bed, but the love of her life?
Excerpt
The woman looked like Taylor, his brother Lou’s wife. But this woman’s lips were painted a deep shade of red, where Taylor always wore pink. The tight spandex top hugged her full breasts, and her leather skirt revealed endless, captivating legs encased in shimmering nylon. Taylor didn’t own a leather skirt, and to her, spandex was for jogging. Fuck-me high heels rested on the bottom rail of the bar stool. Taylor abhorred high heels.
The look-alike flipped her auburn hair over her shoulders, the locks sparkling with golden highlights in the flash of the strobe on the dance floor.
Jace Jackson cooled himself off with a slug of beer, his one and only bottle for the night.
Then she laughed. He shouldn’t have been able to hear it over the voices, the semi-drunken laughter, or the beat of another country western ballad, but he felt it in his gut, the way he always felt Taylor’s laugh, hard as he tried to ignore it.
Holy hell.
The woman didn’t just look Taylor. It was Taylor.
Jace slammed his beer down on the table, ignored his drinking buddies’ raised eyebrows, and rose to his feet when the guy Taylor was flirting with put his hand on her knee.
* * * * *
Taylor Jackson knew she’d made a huge mistake the minute the man put his hand on her knee. She couldn’t remember his name, Buddy or Bubba or Bucky or something, although Bubba seemed to suit him best
It didn’t seem right to be planning to seduce a man whose name she couldn’t remember. Not that Bubba needed much in the way of a come-on from her.
She hadn’t dated since Lou died. In fact, she hadn’t been out on a date since she met Lou back in college. Not that she’d call what she was doing now dating.
Planning a seduction had been the easy part. Dressing for it even easier. The hour between dropping off the kids at her mother-in-law’s house and finishing her final primp in her bathroom mirror had been like playing dress-up with her mom’s makeup when she was a little girl. Of course, when her mother caught her, she’d blistered her butt. Taylor had started feeling jumpy on the drive over, out of Willoughby to the outskirts of Bentonville, the next town over, and home of Saddle-n-Spurs, a rowdy country western joint.
She’d chosen the bar because she wouldn’t be recognized. No one she knew would come to a place like this. It wasn’t a PTA/soccer-mom kind of place.
Jumpy or not, Taylor had climbed out of her minivan and headed inside. Her head had begun to pound with the din before she’d even taken a seat at the bar. She’d ordered wine to calm her full-fledged nerves and probably would have bolted before the bartender poured it if Bubba hadn’t taken the stool beside her and paid for her drink.
She shouldn’t have let him do that. Not that she felt like she had to sleep with him because he bought her a glass of wine. This wasn’t how she’d planned it. In fact, the whole seduction plan seemed suddenly idiotic. If she hadn’t felt so desperate, so needy, so out of control, she never would have considered picking up a guy in a bar for a night of casual sex.
It had seemed like forever since she’d felt a man’s touch. For months after Lou died, maybe a year, she hadn’t given sex a thought. She’d been too busy getting out of bed in the mornings, accepting the monumental changes his death wrought, wondering if she could handle things on her own, and helping Brian and Jamey cope with the loss of their dad.
Somewhere along the way, in that second and third year alone, she’d started remembering she was a woman. With needs. She didn’t want a new father for the boys or a boyfriend or husband for herself. She only wanted the embrace of a man for a little while.
Bubba wasn’t her idea of a dream lover. Reality didn’t match the erotic fantasy she’d spun through-out sleepless nights. Now, she wasn’t quite sure how she’d get rid of him, or for that matter, get herself out of the bar.
“Get your damn hand off my wife’s knee.”
Oh Lord. It couldn’t be. She glanced up and almost choked on her sip of wine. It was her brother-in-law. And Jace didn’t look like a happy camper.
Look for The Jackson Brothers coming soon.
Somebody’s Lover, Book 1
Somebody’s Ex, Book 2
Somebody’s Wife, Book 3
Here’s a taste of Jasmine’s sexy little spanking story...
Take Your Pleasure
Copyright 2012 Jasmine Haynes
Cover design by Rae Monet Inc
Previously published in 2010
A naughty little contemporary romance with a bit of bondage, submission, dominance, ménage, and a very good spanking!
Natalie Beaumonde’s life turns upside down the day she walks in on her boyfriend, Van, playing submissive to a beautiful dominatrix. Not only has she been betrayed, but Natalie loses her belief in herself as a desirable woman. And when she starts making mistakes at work, her career being the one thing she’s always excelled at, she’s in danger of losing her self-worth and her job, too.
Lincoln Masters isn’t like most bosses. Instead of issuing a reprimand, he decides his sexy executive assistant needs a good spanking, something he’s been dying to deliver for almost a year. And afterward, he hatches a plan to help Natalie rebuild her self-confidence and show her wandering man the error of his ways: become the sexy dominatrix her boyfriend is looking for. Being a Master himself, Lincoln’s the perfect dom to help her
execute the delectable punishment.
Lincoln’s terms for helping her? He wants a piece of Natalie, too. Suddenly, Natalie finds herself developing a growing fascination with her boss and all the exciting, deliciously naughty things he can do for her. When Van’s punishment is complete, can she go back to being just Mr. Masters’ assistant?
Excerpt
Natalie wanted to gag. It had been such a shitty week. Mr. Masters was right about everything. She’d failed him miserably, made so many mistakes. He was a hard taskmaster, but she’d always measured up, always delivered more than required. Until last weekend, when she’d walked in on Van with that woman. Now she couldn’t stop replaying those images in her mind, and they seemed to overshadow everything else she was supposed to be doing on the job.
She’d been with Van for two years. At thirty years old, with her own home and a solid job, Natalie had even considered taking the next step with him, moving in together. How could he do that to her? And how could he do that with some horrible woman dressed head to toe in skintight leather?
There wasn’t a single bulge on her lithe form.
Natalie shuddered to think of her own body packed into all that leather. But the worst was the noises he’d made, the sighs, the moans, the cries, the groans of pleasure. He’d never sounded like that with Natalie, never gone utterly wild when she touched him. Not even in the beginning.
Invitation to Passion: Open Invitation, Book 3 Page 9