Dirty Scandal

by Amelia Wilde

  Her body displaces the air as she sits, and the scent of her washes over me, clean with a hint of something floral and bright. My cock is instantly at attention, straining against my pants.

  I almost burst when she leans toward me, the curve of her breasts peeking over the neckline of her dress. The hint of that soft skin is enough to drive me wild, even more than if the dress had the kind of plunging neckline that’s in vogue at the Swan tonight.

  My head is screaming at me to stay cool, to stay distant, not to let myself get drawn in by this woman. Don’t forget Elisa, shouts the voice in the back of my mind, and there’s a flash of stabbing pain in my chest.

  It’s a searing reminder that this is the outcome of falling in love.

  But this isn’t love. What I feel for Carolyn, right now—it’s not love.

  It’s need, urgent and raw and primal.

  “So, Ace, formerly Aaron, tell me all your secrets.”

  Her voice is low and rich and sultry, and there’s a glimmer in her eyes that makes me want to fall right into them, to block out everyone else in the room.

  So I do.

  “I don’t have any secrets.”

  She gives me a half smile. “Don’t you? Then why is everybody in the room talking about you right now?”

  I lean in close, like I’m about to reveal something, and her breasts rise under the dress. “Look at me.”

  Carolyn takes me at my word, rakes her eyes down my face to the front of my suit. “I’m looking.”

  “That’s why they’re talking.”

  She laughs. “Oh, so you’re God’s gift to humankind?”

  “To womankind, at least.”

  The heat between us is scorching. Every breath makes me want her more.

  She cocks her head, considers me. “What brings you back to New York?”

  “Change in circumstances.”

  “I won’t pry.” She purses her lips.

  “Does it matter why I’m here? All I care about is that I’m here. Next to you.”

  The smile returns, and my chest turns to molten heat. For a split second, I think she might fish for a compliment, blush and turn away, shaking her head, but no. “Is here the best venue for an intimate conversation?” The sentence is dripping with possibility.

  “Do you have somewhere else in mind?”

  “Your place.”

  7

  Carolyn

  This is exactly how I end up getting hurt. I go all-in on a man at the Swan, or at some other party, and I fall hard. I fall for his body, and then I fall for his mind, and then I’m swept up in the heat of it, the romance, and it’s all over. It’s over even at the beginning, before it starts, because inevitably problems arise, like he turns out to be a selfish asshole who can’t keep his hands off of other women, even when I’m staying at his place four nights a week with a toothbrush in one of his bathroom drawers.

  That kind of man is exactly why I started Rainflower Blue—so that women could warn other women. Most of the traffic there focuses on confirming or refuting that kind of rumor.

  The website swirls at the back of my mind, a pest that won’t leave me alone. Is that why I want to know Ace’s secrets? Or does it run deeper than that?

  But none of that can eclipse the hum beneath my skin, the goose bumps pricking up on my arms when Ace stands up, in full view of everyone at the Swan, and offers me his hand.

  The table goes silent, Eli breaking off his story and looking across at us with a quizzical expression, mouth half-open. But he doesn’t speak and the silence grows, the gap in the sound spreading from our table to the next.

  If I don’t make a move, the entire room is going to be staring at us in a matter of seconds.

  I’m frozen in my seat. This is the point of no return. If I take his hand, I’m going to leave with him. The sun is going to rise in the east and set in the west, and if I say yes right now, all the dominos are going to fall, one by one, until there’s nothing left but me and my website….

  My body won’t take no for an answer.

  I put my hand in Ace’s and heat crackles between us. It’s all I can do to stand.

  I’ve left my purse hanging over the back of the seat next to Jess, so, with my breath coming fast and hard, I tug at Ace’s hand, both of us moving pointedly around the table. Jess grins up at me, beaming, her teeth biting at her lower lip, and as I give a clipped goodbye, heart racing, she gives me a subtle thumbs up.

  She wouldn’t be if she knew how this was going to end.

  Right now, in this moment, with my hand in his, I don’t care at all.

  As we step away from the table, Ace calls back over his shoulder, “Thanks for the invite, Eli. I’ll stay longer next time.”

  Eli’s laughter fades away behind us, the conversation closing around our wake.

  The momentum carries us through the lobby and out the main entrance. Usually, Eli prefers to go out through the side entrance—less chance of paparazzi—but we get lucky tonight. There’s nobody out here, only a gleaming black Bentley with a uniformed driver standing by the back door. Ace goes toward it at full speed, pulling me along behind him, and at the last moment the driver swings the door open. “Four Seasons,” he says, and the driver, a stocky dark-eyed man, nods. Is there a glint in his eyes? Hard to tell in the dark.

  The leather seats are cool and smooth. The driver closes the door and jogs around to the front, but before he can open his door, Ace’s hand is on my cheek, turning me to face him.

  Our eyes lock again, his gray eyes stormy in the low light in the back of his car, and I don’t wait for some awkward discussion. I don’t wait for anything at all. I lean in and I kiss him, hard, the way I wanted to when I saw him tonight.

  He is not some gawky schoolboy anymore.

  His strong hands go around my waist, pulling me toward him, and as the car pulls away from the curb, I throw my arms around his neck, crushing my lips against his. He tastes like champagne and mint, and the spicy smell of him, expensive, light cologne, fills my lungs with every gasping breath.

  One time, I promise myself. One time, I’ll let myself enjoy him, and I won’t get sucked into this, and I won’t fall in love. Not with Ace Kingsley, not with that wicked smile, not with the hard body I’m aching to touch. His unbelievable body is a gateway to heartbreak, and I’m not going to invite any more of that into my life. Men like Ace—rich men who are used to getting what they want—they always stray.

  None of it matters tonight, when his body is responding to mine, when he’s yanking me toward him like I can’t get close enough, when the back of his Bentley is so hot. I don’t know how his driver is keeping his eyes on the road.

  Ace pulls back, his eyes laser-focused on mine. “I want you. I’m going to have you.” The words spill out of him, rough and raspy, and the hair on the back of my neck rises, a tremble of desire shoots rockets through me.

  I can’t find the words, so I push harder into him, throwing my legs on either side of his knees, straddling him, pressing the heat of my core to the hard steely length of his cock beneath his pants.

  “Jesus,” he whispers, his hands gripping my waist.

  “He has—” I suck in a breath. “He has nothing to do with this.”

  Ace’s laugh is so sexy I almost split in two, and then his mouth is on my collarbone, and I am lost in the sensation of his lips on my skin, his teeth grazing my shoulder, the dominos are falling, it’s all over and I don’t want it to stop.

  8

  Ace

  Carolyn is burning me alive, and it feels like heaven.

  She’s so hot for me that the ride back to the Four Seasons is a haze of kissing, hard, then tender, then wild with the kind of sexual heat I haven’t felt since the last time—

  No. Not now. Those thoughts can’t be here. Not now.

  She doesn’t hesitate when I tell her I’m going to take her. She leaps onto me like a tigress. I’d take her right now if the driver was someone anonymous who wasn’t likely to hassle me
for it later, but I restrain myself for Noah’s sake.

  It’s a near thing.

  By the time we spill out of the Bentley in front of the Four Seasons, my cock is raging against the confines of my boxers and pants. I’m nearly blind with need for her. If I’m not fucking her in the next five minutes….

  The both of us can barely hold it together long enough to get across the lobby to the private elevator, and as soon as the door closes behind us she’s on me, ravenous, a living reflection of my need for her. She hardly seems to notice that we’re speeding toward the penthouse. She has the lapels of my suit jacket clenched in her fists and is pushing me back against the wall, standing on tiptoe to kiss me deep and long and hard.

  I let her take control until I can’t stand it, and then I flex my muscles, pushing away from the wall, pushing her back against the opposite wall, sliding my hand behind her head before it makes contact.

  She sucks in a sharp breath and her grip on my lapels tightens, but her body relaxes a little underneath my hands, ceding control.

  It drives me wild.

  A woman who isn’t afraid to make the first move, but that tiny shift of her weight, the way she melts under my hands, tells me that she has a little bit of a submissive side. I’d bet all my money right now that she’ll love being bent over my bed and—

  The door slides open and I pull her out into the living room of the suite. Carolyn doesn’t pause for a second, not a single instant, to survey the space, like it’s not one of the city’s most opulent set of rooms. She’s not a wide-eyed small town girl, that’s for sure. Either that or, like me, she’s totally consumed by what’s happening between us right now, burning up in the flames and loving every moment of it.

  I sweep her through the living room and into the master bedroom. When I bring us to a stop in front of the glittering canopy bed, her focus shifts to the buttons of my jacket.

  Her hands tremble slightly but she doesn’t fumble with the buttons, undoing them one by one with slick efficiency, her eyes narrowed. As soon as the last one is free she slips her hands into the jacket and shoves it off my shoulders, leaving me to strip it off and drop it to the ground. By the time it falls to the floor she already has three buttons of my shirt undone, then yanks it out of my pants. I shrug it off and she goes for my belt.

  I stop her, catching both of her wrists in one of my hands. “Not fair,” I growl, and her eyes widen a little. I smile at the pink in her cheeks, at her heaving breaths. “I’m half-naked, and you’ve still got an entire dress on.”

  “Take it off.”

  Her voice is low, tight with desire, and I don’t hesitate to give her what she wants.

  I turn her with one quick motion, my fingers finding the zipper and tugging it down, then the dress, slipping the red, silky fabric over the curve of her hips to reveal a black bra and panty set that’s mostly lace, covering an ass that could launch a thousand ships.

  Carolyn turns back to face me, and I take a step back, bite down on one of my knuckles to keep from ravishing her right here on the floor. The curve of her waist is a symphony, and it plays right along with the swell of her breasts, the lithe legs, the shoulders that make me want to—

  “If you’re going to stare at me all night, at least put your hands on me.”

  Yes.

  I start with her bra straps, hooking one finger underneath each one and pulling them down over her shoulders, and she trembles when I reach behind her and unclasp it, exposing her hard, pink nipples already pebbled with desire.

  The panties are next. I drop to my knees and pull them down her legs, inch by agonizing inch, exposing pure perfection. I could worship that all night, but my cock is painfully hard. No more waiting.

  She scrambles over to the bed while I rid myself of shoes, socks, pants, boxers, my cock standing straight out. Carolyn sits propped on her elbows, eyes huge and dark, biting her lip, and it takes me two steps to get to her, one movement to be on the bed on top of her, exploring her mouth with my tongue, knocking her knees apart with mine, spreading her wide beneath me.

  Carolyn moans into my mouth and opens herself a little bit wider, begging without words.

  What kind of man would I be if I let her down now?

  I take my cock in my fist and line myself up with her opening, slick and ready and waiting, and she spreads her arms out to either side, tips her head back, and whispers “please.”

  I lose control, slamming into her with all the pent-up force of the last few months, and she cries out and wraps her legs around me, drawing me in, and I’m crashing into her, drowning in her, and I never want to come to the surface.

  9

  Carolyn

  I wake up deliciously slowly in Ace’s bed at the Four Seasons, the gray light of the early morning filtering in through the floor-to-ceiling windows that reveal the New York City skyline. Ace still sleeps deeply, curled on his side like he’s trying to protect himself.

  This is one hell of a room. I stifle a laugh when my brain finally registers that I’m in a canopy bed. It’s so over the top. And I’m pretty sure there’s gold woven into the sheets.

  What’s Ace doing here? This has to be the most expensive hotel room in the city, and it’s common knowledge that he has enough money to buy several places of his own. He’s got himself a little palace on top of the Four Seasons, but he can’t stay here forever.

  What do I know? Maybe he could.

  My muscles are relaxed, and there’s a heat in my chest that stands in contrast with the cool of the room. I don’t remember it being so cold when we first came in, but my mind was occupied with other things. How convenient that Ace likes his rooms at the same temperature I do!

  A match made in heaven, I think to myself, then roll my eyes.

  I’m trying to play it off like last night wasn’t a big deal, but it was earth-shattering. Ace played me like a violin. I think we had sex three separate times, but in the middle he stroked the most sensitive parts of my folds, traced circles around my nipples with his tongue, licked his way down to the hot, wet center of me and thrust his tongue inside—

  A new wave of heat rushes through me.

  Should I wake him up?

  No.

  Too early.

  I scoot carefully to the side of the bed and put my legs over the side, my feet sinking into the plush carpeting. Shower. Cool off. Wait for him to wake up on his own.

  The master bathroom isn’t far. I pad over and close the door behind me.

  More floor-to-ceiling windows. I let out a low laugh, because Jesus, this place is something else. I can’t decide if it’s gaudy or amazing. Maybe it’s both.

  I pass up the infinity tub—maybe later—and head for the shower, which is by far the fanciest shower I’ve ever seen, and I grew up with the Pierce brothers. My own family’s house had lovely bathrooms that my mother constantly had remodeled, but this one is on another level.

  I linger in the heat, shampooing my hair, letting the water envelop me and run down my breasts, between my legs.

  Last night was scorching. I told myself that I’d enjoy him once, then get the hell out, but…I want more.

  I want more of his hands on me. I want more of feeling so free, so adventurous. I want to do dirty, dirty things with this man…and I get the impression he’d be willing to go there, too. I want to feel his weight pressing down on me, his strength holding me in place while I buck against it….

  Heat races down my spine, straight between my legs, and I turn toward the stream of water and let it fall on the back of my neck while I slip my fingers down to my clit and start rubbing in small circles. It’s been forever since a man made me feel like this, so needy.

  Legs trembling, I bring myself up and over the edge of an orgasm, silent and quick. In my fantasy he comes in at the last moment and sees me, steps into the shower with me….

  The door to the bathroom doesn’t open.

  My shoulders tense while I dry off and work my hair into some semblance of order. There’s
a flutter in my chest, a ragged heartbeat.

  I can’t wait any longer.

  But when I pull open the door and step back into the bedroom, everything is wrong.

  Ace is standing in front of the massive windows, a dark outline against the lightening sky. The set of his shoulders tells me everything I need to know.

  I swallow hard.

  “Hey.”

  He turns toward the soft sound of my voice, and even in the dim light of the room I can see the set of his jaw. “Good morning.” It’s not an invitation to get back into bed.

  “How—how are you?”

  “Fine.”

  He turns back to look over the city again, and my heart plummets into my stomach. I was stupid to hope that this bliss would last longer than one night. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

  Ace is like all the other men.

  My cheeks heat up. I’m standing here like an idiot, wrapped in a towel like I’m a gift for him to unwrap, and he doesn’t want it.

  Where are my clothes?

  The only silver lining is that they’re all together in a heap at the foot of the bed.

  I scramble into my bra and panties, then slip the dress back up over my hips. I zip it to the best of my abilities, put my feet back in my shoes, and look around the bedroom one more time. My purse?

  I dropped it somewhere near the elevator.

  I’m almost out the door when Ace’s voice cuts through the silence. “Carolyn?”

  “Yeah?”

  His arms are crossed in front of his chest, shoulders rounded slightly to the front like he’s expecting a blow to the gut. His eyes are thunderclouds. His eyes are the center of a storm.

  “We—” He raises a hand, gestures to the empty space between us. “We probably shouldn’t do this again.”

  Are you kidding me? “No shit,” I say, acid in my tone, and turn on my heel and go.