The Seduction of Kinley Foster (What Happens in Vegas)

by Lisa Wells

  “Where do you think you’re going?” He held her down with an arm against her stomach, his expression fierce and determined. “I didn’t hear the safe phrase.”

  She clenched her jaw. “Because I didn’t say it.”

  He made a noise that sounded ominous. “Then this session isn’t over.”

  She felt her stomach free fall as if jumping out of a plane’s window. This felt real. Like they weren’t playing a game. Like they were really in a relationship in which he ruled. “You can’t punish me for something that didn’t occur this week.”

  “Roll over.” The two-word demand left little room for argument.

  She clenched her fists. “I don’t have to. I can use my safe phrase.” She refused to make it easy for him to be the dominant one. He was going to have to earn the title.

  Their gazes locked.

  Neither of them blinked.

  “Kinley, who’s in charge?” his voice was steady, soothing. Nothing like her angry one.

  A knot formed in her throat. Damn him for being sensible. She couldn’t argue with sensible. “You are.”

  “Roll over,” he said softly.

  She hissed out a breath. She flopped over and stuck her ass in the air. She gritted her teeth and waited for the contact of his hand on her derrière.

  He spanked her several more times. She didn’t make a sound. She refused to give him the satisfaction.

  Then he stopped.

  She waited to see if it was a trick. When nothing else happened, she glanced back at him.

  Beads of perspiration dampened his temples. His nostrils flared.

  He picked up the phone and took a picture of her bare ass—no doubt bright red from his hand. Then he tossed the phone on the coffee table and stood. He held out a hand to her. “Come.”

  She sat up on her knees. “Where?”

  His face softened. “We need to take care of your bottom.”

  She lifted her brows. “You mean my ass?” She wasn’t sure how she felt about that. He’d just gone all real-dominant on her ass. And…and…it turned her on. But he was the enemy.

  No—not the enemy.

  A man who would always have her back if she gave him her backside. Or that’s how it would work if they were in a real relationship between a dominant and a submissive. This was just for research.

  He gave her a lopsided smile. A smile that shouted “I’m a man who can be playful.” A smile that melted her defenses. “And a fine one it is,” he said. “Then I’m going to fuck you senseless.”

  Her girly parts applauded. He knew exactly what to say to make her pant, to make her forget her misgivings. To remind her how much she wanted him to give her an orgasm that had nothing to do with a vibrator. But she wasn’t ready to make it easy for him. “Let’s get one thing straight.” She walked toward the bedroom.

  “And what would that be?”

  “Now, that my punishment is over—I’m the one in control.”

  He chuckled: a rich, warm sound. “That you are, love…that you are.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Kinley unzipped Ian’s slacks and lowered them down his muscular legs. His erection sprung to life. “Commando?” She didn’t take him for the sort. She had him pegged as a Versace boxer boy.

  “I like the freedom.” He stepped out of his pants and kicked them away.

  Kinley licked her lips. Her eyes fixed on him. On an aroused cock that intimidated and thrilled her at the same time. “Did spanking me do that to you?”

  He didn’t reply immediately.

  She peeked up at him with heavy eyes—desire making it hard to keep them open.

  “I couldn’t help but notice being spanked turned you on,” he said, standing at ease. Broad shoulders. Lean hips. Legs wide apart. Completely comfortable being stared at by her. “Do you forgive me for hurting you?”

  “I wanted you to slide your fingers in me between spankings.”

  His jaw clenched. “We can’t mix punishment with pleasure.”

  She gulped. “What if, next time, I pleasure myself while you’re spanking me?”

  His nostrils flared. “Does that mean you’re going to let me spank you again?”

  They only had two days left. She didn’t plan on giving him any reason to spank her between now and then. Which meant this part of their experiment was over. She couldn’t help but feel some sadness at the realization. She shook off the melancholy. “Not likely,” she said with a cocky smirk.

  She walked to the bed and crawled to the middle of the king-size mattress. She rested her forearms on the bed and raised her ass in the air before glancing back at him. “Do you know anything else to do with a woman’s ass besides spanking it?”

  “Oh, I think I can come up with a couple of things you might enjoy.” He walked to the bed, bent down, and kissed her ass. “Watching you sing on stage last night was the most erotic thing I’ve ever witnessed.” He dotted kisses everywhere.

  She stilled. Had her singing been okay? “So I wasn’t awful at karaoke?”

  “I didn’t say that. But you had a slow burn in your eyes. The same burn you get when you’re coming. And I knew, when the night was over, your cute ass would be tumbling into my bed. Grasping my sheets. Crying out my name. Not the name of those idiots in skirts you were flirting with.”

  Kinley didn’t want to dwell on last night’s fiasco. “Did you know they go commando under their skirts?”

  He bit her bottom. “I’m not happy that you know.”

  She jerked. “Don’t even think about spanking me for something that’s said during foreplay.”

  He laughed. “I bet they jacked-off thinking about you last night.”

  She scooted away and lay down on her back. Spreading her legs, she ran a finger over her center, causing her hips to lift off the bed. She touched herself again, and a low moan escaped her lips. “Did you?”

  “Did I jack-off thinking about you?”

  She nodded.

  He smiled—a smile that had power shining through. “What do you think?” He went between her legs and spread them wider. Opened her folds with his hands and then flicked her pink bud with his tongue.

  Her back arched off the bed. “Oh God.”

  “You like that, do you?” He flicked it again and again and again. Then he licked her center.

  “It’s beginning to give me some satisfaction.” Her voice was breathless. She lifted her legs in the air.

  He bent them until her knees were flush with her chest.

  She squirmed, liking the feel of the sheets against her bruised ass.

  He held her firm. “You’re clitoris is so engorged.” He pinched it.

  She gasped. No one had ever done that. It wasn’t proper. Nice guys didn’t do that.

  He pinched it again.

  She squirmed. The pain made her hot. Hot for him. “Don’t make me wait.”

  “Are you sure you’re ready?” He placed his cock at the apex of her warmth and teased by sinking the thick tip in. “Or do you need more preparation?”

  “Don’t be an ass.”

  He ran his finger around her anus. “Did you say go in your ass?”

  She stilled. “No.” There was not proper and then there was NOT PROPER.

  “No what?” He sounded so caught up in the moment, almost as if his control was about to snap.

  “Not there.” She couldn’t cross that bridge with him. A lady could only take so many new experiences in one week.

  He pinched her clitoris again, and she groaned.

  “Someday—I’m going to go there,” he said.

  She shook her head.

  “But not until you’re ready.”

  “Okay.” The word of permission slid out easily. They both knew someday wouldn’t—

  He moved back, leaned down and licked her hard. He didn’t let up on the pressure until her breathing sounded like the steam coming from a freight train.

  “Don’t,” she gasped out. She didn’t want to come yet.

&nb
sp; He gave one more long, rough lick. “I want to hear the soft mewling noise you make when you come.”

  She dove her fingers into his hair. “Then satisfy me like you promised everyone in the club you were going to do.”

  He dropped her legs and raised above her. Grabbed the condom off the nightstand and put it on.

  She watched, her body pulsing with desire. “I need you inside of me.” She wriggled and felt the soft scrape of satin across her ass… Her ass that no doubt held the imprint of his hand. She moved again enjoying the sensation. Enjoying the memory of his dominance.

  He shifted his hips above her. “Say please.”

  She’d never begged a man for anything. “Please.”

  “Happily.” He lowered himself and thrust in. Not slow. Quickly, as if his control broke.

  She arched hard. Her mewling turned to a growl. God. They’d just started, and her orgasm was about to happen. Was that what spanking did to her?

  An assault of energy vibrated through her, wiping away her ability to think, leaving unfettered throbs in its wake. She rode the derailment of sensations that seized and swirled, bucking against him until the storm of pleasure quieted.

  “I take it you liked that?” he said.

  Somehow, she managed to open her eyes.

  Ian stared intently at her, his blues dark and heated.

  “Oh God, that was beyond like.” Every inch of her skin tingled as her muscles continued to softly contract around him.

  His lips tilted up. “You’re so beautiful.” His hair was damp from sweat. A sex-tousled mess. And she’d never seen him look so gorgeous.

  She dug her nails into his shoulders. “Your turn. I want you to feel what I just felt.”

  He kissed her forehead. “Not yet.” He reached between them. His thumb did magical things.

  “Ooooh.” Another surge of heat enveloped her with ripples of ecstasy. “I think I want you to spank me every night.” She leaned up and bit his ear and then fell back on the bed.

  His eyes glazed over. “I’d be happy to.” He pumped fiercely.

  She watched his face as she met his thrusts with her own, fascinated by the flush that darkened his cheeks. When he stilled and closed his eyes, she wrapped her legs around his waist and squeezed. At the same time, she grabbed his ass and dug her nails in.

  A sound that was all satisfied male came out of his throat.

  She laughed.

  Pure, powerful, female, happiness.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  The next morning, after several more kissing sessions once Kinley pointed out he’d failed to kiss her the night before, and fucking sessions, which cracked and corroded the wall of protection Ian normally wore around his heart, he was lying on the bed. Happy. A little too happy.

  Sex with her was extraordinary. Wanton. Mind-killing.

  Thus his happy-ass state of mind.

  He wasn’t against feeling happy, but Kinley wasn’t the right girl to feel this way about. She was his best friend’s little sister. And she deserved a man who could give her more than a few nights of himself.

  And even if he was a man who could give her a long-term relationship, he still wasn’t the right man for her.

  As much as he and her brother had mended their fences, Jack still wouldn’t want a constant reminder around the family of the wedding that never happened.

  Besides, Ian wasn’t ready to settle down into a long-term relationship. He liked his life the way it was. No complications. Then again…

  He rubbed his temples. He didn’t want to think very hard along those then again lines.

  He needed to get his head out of his ass and refocus on what he’d promised Kinley—a nostrings-attached introduction to non-vanilla sex. Any feelings his heart was nursing needed to be killed.

  He picked up some conference notes and straightened them with more force than finesse, only to become distracted by Kinley when she walked out of the bathroom wearing a white fuzzy robe.

  Still holding the notes, he turned to get a better look at her, and a card slipped to the floor.

  She bent down to pick it up. “What’s this?” She read the information on the card and then gave him a beaming smile. “A REAL sex club?” she squealed. “Oh my God. I can’t believe you have an invitation to one. They were all the rave when I started reading erotica.”

  Shit. He’d meant to toss that in the nearest trash can after the lady in the elevator dropped it. How did the card get mixed up with his pitch notes? “It’s nothing. Just something I found.” He didn’t correct her and tell her the invitation was for a private sex party, not a sex club. That there was a difference in the type of individuals you’d come across in each. That bit of information was beside the point.

  As if clueing in to his lack of excitement, she gave him a beguiling look of female begging. “Can we go?”

  His throat tightened. “Absolutely not.”

  “Why? Isn’t your job this week to teach me about things I want to write about?”

  He pinched the bridge of his nose. “It’s also my job to keep you safe. I can’t take you to a party where I don’t know the host.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Stop being such a worrywart. If I can walk on the wild side this week, surely you can as well. Where’s your sense of adventure?”

  He fingered a curl of her hair, still wet from her shower. “I left it in New York. One of us has to be sensible.” Actually, back in NY, when he’d been doing his BDSM research, he’d ventured into a couple of “dungeons” and, no, they weren’t the dark, dangerous places that one might think. Most had rather ordinary-looking people entertaining extraordinary fetishes. Few had people actually having sex—that was more common on the international scene. Here in the US of A, actual “sex” was illegal in most states.

  She collapsed back on the bed, causing her robe to gap open, showing him enough skin to rattle his brain. “We’re in Vegas, baby. The city that frowns at sensible people.”

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  “How much do you know about story structure?” Ian asked Kinley. She was wearing a white turtleneck and black slacks. Her hair was up in a bun, and her glasses were perched on her nose. A very prim and proper look for a vixen he’d seen naked only hours earlier.

  They were having lunch in the same café they’d dined in on the first day at the conference.

  She took a bite of her omelet. Swallowed. “I think I know more than the average writer.”

  “Good. Pretend we are a love story. What would the inciting incident be?” He hadn’t meant to ask her to use them as an example in the teaching of story structure. So why did he?

  Her cheeks flushed a pretty shade of girly pink. “Actually, I started writing a novella yesterday, and I’m loosely using our setup as the backbone of the story.”

  He sat back in his chair and steepled his fingers. “Interesting. So, what’s the inciting incident?”

  She took a sip of her orange juice. “My heroine’s inciting incident is when she boarded a plane full of ladies who sell sex toys.”

  He nodded “That explains your vibrators.”

  “That’s where my heroine’s sex toys came from. And the lady sitting beside her in the plane becomes her mentor in the seduction of the story’s hero.” She dipped her hash browns in the glob of ketchup she’d poured on her plate and took a bite.

  He grimaced. He didn’t like ketchup. It reminded him of the blood that had gushed from her head during their unfortunate sledding accident that had left her scarred for life. “You’ve had some help in your game plan to seduce me?”

  She patted the corners of her lips with her napkin. “In my novella, my heroine has had some outside help.”

  He took a bite of his bacon. “And in your novella, did the mentor tell the heroine to masturbate in front of the hero?” he asked, feeling wicked talking to Kinley about masturbation in the middle of the day in the middle of a busy restaurant.

  She dropped her fork on her plate and it clanged loudly causing
some to glance their way. “She told her to leave the bar without the hero,” she whispered.

  He leaned closer to her and whispered back. “Nice. What’s the hero’s inciting incident?”

  She pushed her plate away and folded her hands prissily on the table. “His is a little more complicated. An unlikely friend calls and asks him for a favor.”

  He reached out and stroked the top of her hand. “You really don’t remember anything we talked about the night you sang on stage?” He found himself wishing she did. Wishing they didn’t have that black cloud hanging over their experience this week.

  She dropped her gaze and laced her fingers with his. “I thought we were talking about story structure, not the most humiliating night of my life.”

  He released her hand and sat back, shifting in his seat. “What is the first turning point of…your hero and heroine’s love story?” The restaurant was filling up.

  “For my heroine, it’s when the hero bets her she can’t seduce him. She takes him up on the bet. And for the hero, it’s when he realizes she did seduce him, and he so arrogantly assumed she never could.”

  He glanced back at Kinley. Her comment surprised him. “Arrogant?” Is that how she saw him?

  “Absolutely. It’s my story. I have an arrogant hero who needs to be taken down a notch or two before he makes a great hero.”

  He never meant to come across as arrogant. Mostly, he said and did what he said to protect against poor choices. “What do you have planned as the climax in your story?”

  She chewed on her bottom lip. “That’s where everything goes to hell between the hero and heroine—right?”

  His groin tightened. He felt a pull of temptation to reach across the table and kiss her bottom lip. “Sometimes. But sometimes it goes great.”

  “The hero falls madly in love with the heroine and tells her so in a very public setting.” Her voice held a wistful quality.

  Was she secretly hoping he’d fall in love with her? “And how does the heroine respond?” Was he secretly hoping she’d fall in love with him? How public is his declaration of love?