Seduced: Den of Sin Boxed Set 1

by Mel Blue

  “The first of many.”

  “Oh,” was all she could say as her heart ached. This was crossing every boundary, every rule…she didn’t care. Seraphina. “Well, let’s start where we left off. It’s only right.”

  She sighed and dragged him down into a kiss. Work could wait.

  ABOUT MEL BLUE

  Melissa Blue’s writing career started on a typewriter one month after her son was born. This would have been an idyllic situation for a writer if it had been 1985, not 2004. Eventually she upgraded to a computer. She’s still typing away on the same computer, making imaginary people fall in love.

  Where to find me online or places to sign up for my newsletter to get the latest release news:

  My Blog

  My Website

  BACKLIST TITLES BY MELISSA BLUE

  Weekend Lover, Down With Cupid Shorts

  Prequel to Down With Cupid

  The weekend that started it all…

  Sebastian Clark’s intentions are simply to buy Nicole, a beautiful stranger, a drink, make her laugh and disappear before dawn. As a publicist for Snapshot, his days are long and his moral code is to always keep things light. Until he touches her and lust fades any lasting hold on common sense. His questionable motives pave a road to unbelievable pleasure.

  Nicole Harrison is on the fast track for a promotion at Limelight, a PR boutique. She’s given up dating, especially handsome men. They tend to suck up time and sometimes common sense. Sebastian has the ability to do both. One single night won’t break her own rules and Nicole gives in to temptation.

  The boundaries are clear—no last names, no shared details. She has only to walk away to end the affair. One night turns into three, and her naughty little weekend becomes more than just sex.

  One night of consenting pleasure sets Sebastian Clark and Nicole Harrison on a course that could ultimately destroy them both, or bring them a love for all time…

  Down With Cupid, Down With Cupid Shorts series

  Two months after a weekend of forbidden pleasure should have been more than enough time for Nicole Harrison to forget Sebastian’s charming smiles and wicked kisses. During those nights together, Nicole temporarily left behind her driven lifestyle as a publicist and took what she wanted, experiencing freedom and the wild abandon of their reckless agreement. And that’s the hardest part to erase from her memory.

  Unfortunately, one detail was tantamount—Sebastian Clark is a publicist and now he’s gunning for her job.

  Sebastian never allows himself to get tangled in knots by a woman, and, yet, he can’t stop dreaming about Nicole’s silky thighs and ripe lips, how she’d shuddered under his touch. He doesn’t need a woman who is more of a shark than he when it comes to PR, except he’s seen every, single soft inch of her. Now they’ll have to work side by side and somehow ignore what feels like unfinished business.

  Will the weekend they spent together turn out to be more than they could have ever imagined, or will past hurts and career ambitions stand in their way? Only Cupid knows…

  Betting It All, Down With Cupid Shorts

  Their final chapter…

  For the past six months Nicole Harrison has done her best to not question her relationship status. Nothing but work and sex with Sebastian has kept her busy from falling down that rabbit hole filled with doubts. If her lover wanted to declare them a forever kind of couple, he would have. Worrying about how he might feel leads to one mistake that could unravel their life’s work and, maybe, their relationship.

  Sebastian Clark isn’t shy about demanding what he wants. Nicole has become his partner in work and life, and that’s just not something that sits comfortably on him. For half a year she’s held all the cards in their relationship, and he plan to them back. He has a few points to make when he does so there is no doubt where they stand. Somehow he’ll have to convince her a ruthless, ambitious man like him can change.

  It’s well past time to put all their cards on the table, but a PR crisis sends Nicole and Sebastian from San Francisco to Vegas. This job forces them to question their next step as business partners and lover.

  Will they bet it all and win?

  Under His Kilt

  Jocelyn Pearson is determined to spend her last month as a twenty-something doing everything she’s too busy or scared to try. Her imagination runs wild and then fixates on Ian Baird. He’ll be working at the Langston Museum for a short stint as a consulting curator. He’s Scottish. He believes sex is fun to be had. He’s the perfect choice for a fling. She only has to get him break his rule about sleeping with co-workers. Seducing a man was on her bucket list…

  Ian is no one’s fool and knows exactly what Jocelyn wants—him. If she didn’t work for the Langston Museum, he’d be more than happy to oblige any and every fantasy she desired, but she’s the curator. She’s sweet, inexperienced and well liked by everyone including the museum owner and director. Ian can’t risk losing such an important contact for his consulting business. Not even when everything within in him craves a taste of her.

  When Jocelyn sets her sights on him, there’s no way Ian can deny her. They agree their affair will end in thirty days. No emotions, no entanglements, just sex. The closer the end date looms, they start to question if it’s possible to walk away. They’ll either have to come to terms of what they’ve become or stick to their original agreement.

  Ménage à Troys

  A Den of Sin Novella

  By Holley Trent

  COPYRIGHT

  ©Holley Trent

  Published 13 December 2013

  All Rights Reserved.

  Ménage à Troys is a work of complete fiction. All characters appearing in this work are fictional or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  Photography credit

  ©Vita Khorzhevska via Shutterstock.com

  WARNING: this story contains adult situations including sex and strong language. It is not intended for consumption by minors (age of majority as specified by your territory of residence).

  Blurb

  Several times per year, New Orleans’s Hotel Beaudelaire invites a select few guests to make their sexual fantasies come true.

  Eve and Brent Troy have been married three months and have yet to consummate their union. Faced with losing her claim to her family property, busy surgeon Eve had to marry before her thirtieth birthday. Brent was single and convenient, and more importantly, he said yes.

  Now, she wants to light a flame under their cold marriage, but they’re strangers and don’t know how to connect. A New Year’s weekend at The Beaudelaire is supposed to give them the tools to connect. When they arrive, they learn the tool they’ve been equipped with comes in form of Eve’s best friend and fellow doctor Remy Kelly. He knows Eve’s marriage is a sham, and is intent on claiming her for himself. But, when faced with Eve’s strapping new husband who comes onto Remy’s radar as exactly the kind of alpha male he likes, he has a battle of conscience. He wants to take Eve home, not Brent, but for some reason they seem like a package deal.

  At The Beaudelaire anything goes, so instead of two people letting down their guards, three forge bonds. That’s all well and good for the weekend, but what will shake out of their tentative ménage à trois when it’s time to go home?

  CHAPTER ONE

  “There’s still time to change your mind. We can figure out something else, if you want.” Brent Troy turned the modern keycard over and over in his large hands. Eve Troy thought it looked so out of place in a hotel whose soul felt as old as New Orleans itself. He looked uneasily at her.

  She turned away from his brooding stare and fixated on the intricate gold fleur-de-lis of the hallway carpet. Like everything in The Beaudelaire, the rugs showed Henri, the owner’s, exceptional taste and regard to preservation. Some of the rugs they’d trod on during their trek to their room at the converted sugar plantation had to be a century old. They were gorgeous specimens, even more outstanding
than the Orientals at the rural North Carolina farmhouse she’d inherited from her parents.

  The Troys weren’t there to appreciate the flooring, however. They’d come to this den of sin to consummate their sham of a marriage.

  Finally.

  After being married three months, Eve wouldn’t be able to pick her husband out of a police line-up if his head were covered. She barely knew the man, really. He was just a kind stranger who’d agreed to do her a huge favor.

  A tall, broad, and handsome mechanical genius who’d been keeping her pitiful car running for three years without so much as a sigh.

  I can do this.

  Gingerly, she scooped the card out of his palm and slipped it into the slot.

  His boyish grin receded as he shifted Eve’s carry-on bag to his other shoulder and pressed his left hand against the small of her back.

  The little light behind the slot flicked green, and she pushed down the handle before drawing in a bracing breath as the suite opened up to them.

  She held the door ajar while Brent carried in the bags. He’d refused the bellhop. Most people would take one look at Brent in his fleece jacket and well-worn jeans and assume he didn’t know how things worked. That he was unrefined and didn’t belong in a place like The Beaudelaire. But Eve suspected that after a day of uncomfortable travel and strained politeness, he didn’t want to be bothered with having to deal with one more person. The day had been fraught with frustrations, starting with the delay of their seven a.m. flight out of RDU, which finally left the ground at noon. One delay led to another, and by the time they’d landed in New Orleans, hungry and crushed by excited New Year’s Eve travelers, their rental car had been given away.

  A weekend that was supposed to be about kindling a delayed romance was turning into a comedy of errors.

  Eve sighed while still resting her hand on the door. She could see one corner of the golden-hued room. It was anchored by a polished armoire set next to stunning French doors.

  They were on the second floor, and Eve admired again the wraparound verandah she’d seen during the ride up the long driveway.

  She stepped from the carpet to immaculate wood floors, wondering if their section of verandah was partitioned.

  The boutique hotel was crowded this weekend, and in a place where people came to push the boundaries of their sexual inhibitions, she didn’t doubt there’d be a peeping Tom or two interested in the activities of their fellow guests.

  Eve wasn’t about to be anyone’s freak show. She could kill her lawyer and friend of many years, Janet, for even referring her to this place. It’d seemed like a good idea at the time, when the old girl had leaned across her desk and whispered, “If you’re really going to give it a go, I know the perfect place for you.”

  Eve rolled her eyes and took a few more steps into the suite, past the large bathroom on the left where Brent deposited her bag of toiletries and toward the sound of canned laughter.

  Was that a television? Perhaps the maid had left it on.

  She went into the room, only to still when she caught sight of a pair of men’s brown brogues next to the luggage rack. Further, there was a monogrammed garment bag draped over the back of the antique desk chair.

  R-E-K. Not Brent’s bag, and the mechanic probably didn’t own clothing that necessitated hanging, anyway.

  She narrowed her eyes at the open laptop computer on the desk. “I think they put us in a room the last guests haven’t checked out of yet,” she said while striding toward the desk in front of the French doors. “I suppose nothing about this trip is going to be easy.”

  “I’ll go downstairs and see what happened,” Brent called from the little corridor beside the bathroom.

  “Wait. You’re in the right room,” a second male voice said. A familiar voice and one belonging to a man who should have been at work back in Durham.

  She hadn’t noticed him there because of the armchair’s high back, but now he stood and draped his arm over the unoccupied seat.

  Remy Kelly, Eve’s coworker and sometime sounding board, tucked his cell phone into the pocket of his baggy gray sweatpants and nudged his dark blond hair behind his ears.

  She stared into his blue eyes.

  “Hello, Evie.”

  His usual defiant smirk disarmed her as always.

  She couldn’t help herself. She smiled back and felt a bit relieved. He’d become something of a calming anchor in her professional life. He’d showed her the ropes as chief resident. Taught her how to cope with the long work hours that sometimes reached sixteen hours per day. He’d become her trusted advisor in the nearly five years of her surgical residency.

  More importantly, he’d become her friend.

  But what was he doing in this kink palace, barefoot and shirtless, no less?

  Not that she didn’t enjoy the sight.

  He was a phenomenal-looking man, whether he was in faded scrubs or the high-end cashmere he favored during his rare downtime. He was what doctors in television dramas looked like, but he actually had the schooling to back up all his fancy jargon.

  Brent appeared in her periphery, but she didn’t look at him, because she had no answers to give.

  “You must be tired. Sit. Do you want some coffee?” Remy gestured toward the seating area that had been blocked by the bathroom bump-out when she’d entered the room. “I had them bring up some coffee just before you came. I figured you’d need it.”

  “I do need it,” she said, “but, why are you here?”

  “Would you prefer some random person?”

  “Yes.”

  His grin spread. “Lie.”

  She, herself, didn’t know if it were truth or lie The arrangement they’d made with Seraphina, the staff member who’d coordinated these memorable interludes, was for her to find them a third wheel for the weekend. Someone who could help them break the ice. Be their buffer. Someone to give them permission to be bold.

  She’d expected a stranger.

  Remy plucked the key card from her hand and set it atop the dresser. “Shouldn’t have given me a copy of your itinerary. If it weren’t for how the hotel name stood out to me, I wouldn’t be here. I know Henri from way back when. I used to run errands for his father when I was a kid.”

  “Forgot you were from New Orleans, but that still doesn’t explain why you’re here.”

  He fell gracefully into the gold-upholstered wingback chair and propped his feet on the ottoman in a pose of casual ease.

  “Remy,” she said by way of nudging and propped her hands on her hips as the shadow of the third person in the room moved closer into her view.

  Brent seemed more curious than angry, although that could change at any moment.

  Unfazed, Remy drummed his long fingers against the armrests and looked first to Eve, then to Brent. “I’m here because you’re here, Eve.”

  “I’m sorry?”

  “Maybe I should introduce myself,” Brent said. “I’m Brent Troy. Eve’s husband.” There was a dark edge in the usually pleasant mechanic’s voice Eve had never heard before. He was a people person, and even when some fool customer screamed in his face about his car not being ready on time, he’d always kept his cool. Always had a smile.

  But this Brent, standing in a New Orleans hotel that four times per year catered to sexual fantasies coming true, had a malevolent glint in his narrowed eyes and large hands balled into fists.

  “Pleased to join you,” Remy said, voice as modulated and even as ever. He picked up his coffee cup from the bedside table and took a long sip while he stared over the rim. “I suppose I have you at the advantage. Eve’s told me all about you, and you don’t know a thing about me. I’m Remy Kelly. I’ve worked with Eve at the hospital for the past five years. Done a lot of late-night emergency surgeries together.”

  “Fascinating back story. Perhaps you’d like to go reminisce about it in your own room, now. Alone.”

  “Oh, but you see…” Remy set down his cup, then his feet. He stood, and his body
unfolded like some gorgeous plant stretching toward the sun. “This is my room. Our room.” He eased around the coffee table to Eve and wrapped an arm around her waist.

  She drew in a sharp breath as he pulled her in close before nuzzling his face against her hair, made messy by a day of dysfunction.

  “What are you doing?” she asked Remy’s chest, even as her eyes closed and nostrils flared when she got a whiff of his musky scent. She’d smelled it before and appreciated it whenever he would lean over their shared lunch table to reach the saltshaker or grab a napkin. Never before had she been pressed into it and certainly not with his hands on her ass as he kneaded it.

  She realized too late what it must have looked like to Brent, but when she tried to pull away, Remy held her tighter.

  “There’s something wrong with your marriage,” Remy said, still groping. Still fondling.

  His cock prodded against her belly, which suggested this encounter was going to quickly escalate into something scandalous unless she pulled away. Said no.

  But, she didn’t want to say no.

  “You wouldn’t be here otherwise. Tell me there’s not something wrong with your marriage, and I’ll leave,” Remy said.

  Floorboards creaked, and footsteps sounded on the wood.

  It was Brent coming closer.

  He stopped just behind Eve, and she didn’t have to turn around to verify it. She could tell by the way the fine hairs on the back of her exposed neck stood on end.

  Remy wrapped his fist around her ponytail and craned her head back, exposing her throat. Then he skimmed his lips along its line. She suspected he was watching Brent as he did it—teasing them both at once.

  “This isn’t your business,” Brent said. He put his hands on Eve’s waist in a sort of gentle claiming that actually improved her balance, but now she was sandwiched between the two of them.