Seduced: Den of Sin Boxed Set 1

by Mel Blue

  Things were going swimmingly until Paul cupped her breasts… or her prostheses neatly tucked in the lacy camisole she’d yet to allow him to slip off. Karen stiffened, then they both seemed to lose their flow. Noses bumped when they tried to kiss, and caresses that were meant to feel good only served to irritate. He kissed her again, trying to disintegrate her reserve, but she reacted as if he were an invasion. Nothing about it connected them. It might have well have been an assault.

  Paul had been careful to keep his weight off her, but when the knee of his prosthetic slipped, his weight settled on her suddenly, and Karen winced in pain.

  He rolled off her quickly and sat up before running a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry, Karen. I didn’t mean to—”

  “I know. It’s okay. Most guys grope for breasts first during foreplay.”

  “But I should’ve known better.”

  “Don’t beat yourself up about it. You can actually touch the placebos if they’ll fake you out or something.”

  “Do you want to take off your top?”

  “That would be a no,” she said abruptly.

  Paul had known what her answer would be before she gave it. She’d always been good at putting up walls, separating the desirable woman from the friend and sending safe signals, the only ones she felt she could afford to. What Karen didn’t know was that this weekend he would fight for entry. For nine years he hadn’t because he’d valued their friendship too much. Now he was stymied by her struggle with body image and was prepared to help her overcome it.

  “This may not have been a good idea,” she said, her arms folded around her torso like she was holding something in or keeping someone out.

  When her marriage had ended shortly after Paul returned to New Orleans, she’d gotten into the habit of closing herself off and staying in a comfort zone with everyone, including him. Cut off and removed to the point he didn’t recognize her as the woman he’d gotten to know and care about at Hopkins. Paul had made a gesture to return to Baltimore when she’d told him the news, but she’d been hell-bent to venture forth without connecting with anyone, because it was so much more painless than the alternative. She’d been debilitated by that pain, and he hadn’t pushed. But he would push her now.

  “What just happened? We were in a good place until all of a sudden, we weren’t.”

  She shrugged like a gawky, inexperienced teen, afraid to go all the way with the boy she liked she wasn’t sure would still like her in the morning. He hated that the cancer had done this to her. Robbed her of her confidence.

  “Karen, I would never hurt you.”

  She smiled. He’d been going for intimacy, for sincerity, but apparently his heartfelt declaration struck her as funny.

  “You know I won’t take advantage if you let me in,” he said, giving her a glimpse of his own vulnerability. This was as much about him as it was about her. Then he realized this statement was innuendo-laden as well, when her grin broadened.

  “Exactly how do I know this?”

  He would not let a moment of levity steal the inroads he was determined to make. “Because you know I’ve been where you are, even though on the surface it looks like I’ve dealt with and overcome all my issues with body image. Will you take a chance and go places with me intimately that you haven’t with anyone else?” He hoped like hell she could trust him. She hadn’t backed out when she found out he was her partner for the weekend, so there had to be something to her acceptance.

  “How cunning. You knew the one thing—the only thing—that makes living inside our imperfections so difficult. I’m not surprised you get it.”

  She smiled that same smile he saw in his fantasies. The one that says more than her words. She squinted, and laugh lines seemed to appear from nowhere. There was no guile or arrogance in it, just the tentative smile of a woman who was once very self-assured and was again trying it on for size.

  It was that smile Paul had responded to first, before he’d discovered other interesting things as he’d continued to watch her. The way she walked with such grace, one might believe she was floating. The way she saw through bullshit as if she had a built in meter for it. Even his. The intensity with which she viewed life was even atypical, a study in contradictions for one who’d stared death in the face and made it back down.

  “If we do this your way, I’ll have one rule.”

  Desperation made him reckless. “Anything.”

  “The lights must be off.”

  “Except that…” He stood and paced. “Karen, we’re supposed to leave our inhibitions at the door.”

  “Okay. Suppose I were to blindfold you instead?”

  He stopped in his tracks and smiled involuntarily. “That sounds promising, but if we get any kinkier than that, we might have to change floors.”

  “Let’s just get the mechanics down now, shall we?”

  “That doesn’t sound particularly sexy.”

  Her expression challenged him. “I’m going to make you rue that statement before this weekend is over.”

  “Game on,” he said.

  ***

  Within the next ten minutes, he rued his inability to see. He’d allowed her to blindfold him with his own tie, and he removed the remainder of their clothing and dropped them in a pile on the floor somewhere, topped by their discarded prosthetics. Paul had taken his off, both to put her at ease, and so he wouldn’t inadvertently injure her.

  He was still fairly nervous about baring his stump the first time with a woman, and he’d almost been thankful he was blindfolded so he couldn’t see her reaction. He shouldn’t have worried.

  “God, you’re beautiful,” she said with a gasp. Paul reached for her, but she held him at arm’s length.

  “Your tattoos are gorgeous, Paul. I could stare at you for hours.”

  He felt her touch the stump, tentatively, lightly. Then she became more brazen and fondled it. He’d never had a woman do this before. They’d always looked away, like they were trying to pretend he was whole. Like they wanted their fantasy version of him, rather than the real him. Then … she kissed him there, and he lost it.

  “I need to make love to you in the worse way.” This time refusing to be deterred, he groped until he made purchase and pulled her close.

  As soon as they were both lying on the bed, the whole length of their bodies in contact, he kissed her. Their kisses began gently enough, his tongue barely grazing hers, playing a touch-and-retreat game. They were holding back as much as they each were giving.

  Her hands were on his back, and she was holding him tight against her as if she were the one robbed of sight. To be honest, there was so much going on, and such a generous amount of curve in the places that mattered, he didn’t miss having a pair of breasts against his chest. Her hands sent hundreds of electric shocks shooting through nerve endings he felt had never been engaged before. Feelings he’d been so sure didn’t exist in him anymore, erupted like a geyser. The passion that seemed muted in him with other women, exploded with her.

  He slid down her body then used his teeth and lips and tongue to work his way back up, tasting her skin like he was sampling from the richest of delicacies.

  “You are amazing,” he whispered.

  “Am I now?” she mumbled just before he moved to cover her sex once again with his mouth. He couldn’t see her face, but she was quite vocal in her response. A few minutes later, she ate her own words, because she screamed his name and a whole lot of other gibberish all of his various degrees in classic languages couldn’t begin to help him decipher.

  This was not just a mindless sex act. It wasn’t even as uncontrolled as pure lust. This was something that had built up for too long to be described. He wanted inside her something fierce, but she insisted on reciprocating. The hot, thick, sensations her mouth and hands sent through his body made him feel whole again. Karen had the best oral technique, bar none, he’d ever had the pleasure of experiencing sans all of his physical senses. Yet he didn’t want to come in her mouth, he
wanted to claim her in a manner as old as time. He tried to warn her, but she kept going.

  A growl rumbled in his chest, and he hurled a harsh expletive that the guests on either side must have heard. “Fuck!” he said, and he was done. It was just as well, because the next round would be longer, he’d make sure of that, and it would be all for her.

  CHAPTER THREE

  “These are delicious.” Karen nibbled a beignet, the staple of New Orleans desserts that she couldn’t get elsewhere. Room service had been swift and assuaged their hunger for food, but their hunger for each other was another matter. She felt gauche and inelegant, because she’d eaten so fast in anticipation of the activities to come, and Paul was still working on his entrée.

  He leaned in and kissed her as she swallowed the last bit of the pastry, taking the loose sugar off her lips. “You haven’t had mine yet,” he said.

  “Then I’ll reserve judgment until I do.”

  She studied him unabashedly. He might’ve been finished with his meal sooner had he not been devouring her right back with his eyes. She wore a cami and boy shorts with a matching short robe, that hit her mid-thigh, and he wore pajama bottoms only. His body was like a piece of classic Italian sculpture that was saved from the ravages of war, yet forever marred by it. Michelangelo’s David had nothing on him, nor did Alex Minsky, the Marine amputee who modeled professionally.

  As soon as he wiped his mouth and discarded the napkin on his plate, he pulled Karen onto his lap, and guided her to straddle him on the chair. She was a bit shy facing him that way, as he looked from her face to her body, drinking her in as if he hadn’t already explored every intimate detail a short time ago.

  He snaked his arms around her waist until he found her bottom and squeezed appreciatively. She wound her fingers through the longish hair at his nape and dove in to taste the flesh that resided where his neck met his shoulder. She kissed and sucked in that area, alternating use of her tongue and teeth until she could feel the evidence that it was making him very happy.

  Paul reciprocated by concentrating on the same spot on her anatomy, first kissing, then sucking and nibbling until she arched hard and moaned. It was as if that very spot on her neck was somehow connected to the nerve endings between her legs, because Karen felt it like a live wire had been exposed by the tip of his rapacious tongue.

  “Oh, yes!” She wasn’t quite sure what all she was saying yes to, but it felt right.

  She needed more. Her body never responded the way she needed or expected it to any more, as a result of the meds she took, so there always had to be more. Paul seemed to get this and proceeded in his slow, southern gentlemanly manner that thrilled her to no end.

  They kissed until Karen felt his erection pulsing under her own quivering flesh. Paul put one arm around her waist and cupped her ass with the other, clueing her in there was about to be a change of venue.

  “Hold on,” he said. When he stood, she wrapped her legs around his waist. They traversed the couple of feet from the chair to the bed. Oddly, she never doubted he could get them there without his leg giving way. They fell onto the bed, tongues intertwined, hands making each other’s flesh quake with a newfound urgency to have their fill of each other.

  The hotel bed, unmade from their previous activities, was redolent with their mixed scents and served as a heady aphrodisiac for the activities to come. Karen turned over and buried her head in the pillow, luxuriating in the hint of sandalwood, chicory, and mint that Paul had left on there from before.

  Rather than turn her over, Paul lowered himself over her back, his chest blanketing her, the tops of his thighs on the back of hers. He put his arms around her waist then splayed his hands over her stomach. He slid inside her from behind with his heavy, engorged sex, and he began a long, slow symphony of movement that felt like the bluesy lyrics of jazz notes inside of her. He moved easy, with a pattern and cadence that wasn’t hurried. Like a man who cared whether his lover got hers, and Karen luxuriated in it.

  It might have been perfect if her traitorous body had remained lubricated. She was about to stop him, but she needn’t have worried, Paul picked up on her discomfort and rather than give up, he turned her around and carefully spread her legs. He laved her, circled her clit and impaled her with his tongue until her body caught up with his again and was ready to receive him.

  When she felt she would cease breathing and shatter into a million pieces, he came up to move inside her again. This time he moved intensely, more insistent and less gentle than before, but still not fast enough for Karen, who met him with her own thrusts designed to quicken his pace. He stubbornly held fast to his own tempo, pinning her with his expression.

  “Let go. I’ve got you,” he said as he panted through an intense, earnest smile.

  Karen did as he told her and let go. She stopped trying to control what he so clearly had in hand. His movement flooded her body with sensations that built to a crescendo. His excruciating, methodical thrusts became the type of pleasure that was torture. Spasms of heat and shocks of sensation ripped through her body each time he moved to vacate then refill her.

  She squeezed her eyes shut when that feeling of vertigo took over, and she let go for good, shuddering, crying out, and digging her fingers into his back. Yet she wanted him to sink into her farther still. Paul must have felt her struggle, because he redoubled his rhythm, and wrung out every second of sensation in her before he followed her over the precipice with his own release.

  They lay cuddled on the bed, her head in the crook of his arm. Somehow, in the middle of that fantastic interlude, Karen had managed to stubbornly keep on her cami. Paul lazily traced a pattern over the fabric of a flat chest that had once been the home of a perky set of 36 Cs, one of which had gone toxic and ruined that playground for any man and rendered her useless to the nourishment of future children. She allowed him the intimacy, despite her sensitivity to touch in that area.

  Words seemed unnecessary for the longest time as they lay there.

  At last, Paul said, “Uncle Henri made me take a gig at the mixer to earn my keep, so to speak. I have to go practice in a bit. If you come with me tonight, I’ll take you to this great place for breakfast in the morning.”

  “So, that’s my lone incentive? Breakfast?”

  “Made by these hands.” He leaned in and kissed her, and she reveled in the softness of his lips. “And if you’re really good, there could be bonuses involved.”

  “I like the sound of that,” Karen turned in the circle of his arms. “You’re a real renaissance man, Beaudelaire.”

  “I try,” he said. “If you’d thrown this drowning man a life raft before now, you might have known this years ago.” He was going for playful, but he held her gaze, as if hoping she could see the truth in his statement.

  Frozen by his words, she just watched as his face got closer and closer, until his lips were on hers again. At first it was a light, fleeting, whisper of a kiss that quickly became a couple of alarms short of a blazing inferno. How had they resisted the incendiary sexual chemistry between them all these years? Stupid question. They both knew the answer.

  “I don’t think—”

  “You think too much,” he said. “This weekend should be all about feeling. No thinking allowed. Can you do that for me?”

  Karen grinned. “Yes.”

  “Will you be my date tonight, even though I’ll be chained to the piano for a couple of hours entertaining Uncle Henri’s guests?”

  “Yes.”

  “As accomplished as you are, you’re an obedient woman.”

  Karen’s eyebrows shot up and she gave him a light punch. “How dare you say that to a pseudo-feminist.”

  “This means you’re not a hardened one … like a true Amazon. I like that.”

  This time, she kissed him.

  ***

  As he tickled the ivories, Paul replayed the awesome afternoon he’d just experienced with the woman of his dreams. Karen didn’t see herself as such, but she was perfect
, even without that part of herself she felt was an essential hallmark of her femininity. He’d play one last practice piece and head back up. Maybe they could reacquaint their starving bodies with each other once more before the mixer.

  “Professor Beaudelaire?”

  Paul looked over his shoulder and abruptly stopped playing when he recognized e voice of his T.A., Dee Dee Roussel. He swiveled until he was facing her and stood. “Hey, what are you doing here?”

  “Um, I couldn’t get you on your cell phone and I figured you’d want this message. I remembered you said you’d be here moonlighting for your Uncle this weekend. I just happened to be in the office when this call came through.” She handed him a pink message slip. “A Professor Daniel Wolfson from Harvard wants you to call him. He said it was urgent.”

  “Hmm, wonder why he’s calling over the holiday. And why were you in the office today?”

  “Just trying to get a head start for the semester.”

  “Or trying to get away from the big family over the holidays,” he said with a grin.

  She threw her hands up in surrender. “Busted.”

  “Wolfson and I discussed the possibility of me doing a visiting professorship in the summer so I wouldn’t have to take time off from LSU, but we weren’t supposed to be discussing it again until late spring.”

  “He insisted I get the message to you as quickly as possible, so I didn’t want you to miss any opportunities. Since this was kind of on my way to my folks’ place, I thought I’d deliver it to you right away.”

  “This is very thoughtful of you, Dee Dee. Thanks.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  “Hey, I’ll walk you to your car and grab my cell phone while I’m at it,” he said and went with her through the busy hotel lobby, and out the front entrance.

  ***

  Karen knocked but entered Seraphina’ s office before she answered. She marched over to the wastebasket next to her desk and dropped the small bag of items. They made a loud plunking noise as the bag hit the bottom.