Tempt Me (Temptation Series Book 1)

by Kally Ash

  “Don’t make me beg.”

  “That’s exactly what I want you to do, Gigi,” he replied.

  He slipped his finger lower, finding her drenched opening. Pushing in just the tip of his finger, he withdrew it, then repeated the action. She was cognizant of the fact that he was driving her to the edge of insanity, but two could play at that game.

  She tightened her hand around the base of his cock, applying more pressure than she had before. He pulled his hips back, a hiss pushing past his teeth. He looked at her, a dark seductive glint in his eye. “Be careful,” he warned.

  “What are you going to do?” Gigi shot back. “Tie me up? Spank me?”

  Taking her by the hand, Max dragged her from the living room and down the hall. Once inside his bedroom, he told her to sit on the edge of the bed. She watched as he closed the door first then went to his wardrobe and came back with a tie. Her mouth went dry. It looked like she was right—he was going to tie her up.

  “Give me your hands, wrists up.”

  She complied, curious to know what being tied up was going to be like. She’d heard that bondage could be quite liberating. He didn’t take his eyes off hers for a second as he wrapped nearly the entire length of the navy blue tie around her wrists. Once he’d secured the knot, he pulled on it gently. “Stand up.”

  When she was in front of him, Max kissed her mouth gently. “Just say stop if you want me to.” She nodded. Then in a stronger voice, he said, “Turn around.”

  She faced the bed, her skin tingling, her pulse pounding. She was so turned on that she could feel her arousal slipping down the inside of her thigh.

  “Spread your legs apart, bend over and put your forearms on the bed.”

  It was awkward at first. Her legs were at least a foot away from the edge of the mattress, her body stretching over the expanse. All thoughts of discomfort soon evaporated. The second she was in positon, Max’s tongue was lapping at her sex, drinking from her. She squirmed as he ate her out, his wicked tongue darting in and out, stroking her clit and causing her knees to go weak. Her bound hands were clutched together and if she wasn’t naked, it would have looked as if she was praying; the words coming out of her mouth were certainly praising God. She gasped when one finger penetrated her, her inner muscles tensing as another finger was added. He finger fucked her, his tongue still tickling her clit and Gigi could feel herself start to unravel.

  Her orgasms always started in the same way—it felt like a ball of tension in her belly. It unfurled like a flower when the first rays of the sun hit it.

  “I’m going to come,” she said, her eyes squeezing shut, letting the sensations of her release roll over her body. She cried out, unable to hold in the sound. It was all connected—her tensed body, her orgasm, the sound of pleasure coming from her mouth. She was being washed away by it all, and yet Max didn’t slow. He kept thrusting in and out of her body, kept swallowing her down and relishing the flavor. She was hypersensitive, trying to move away when he ran his tongue over her clit again. She couldn’t stand the sensation; it was too much for her brain to comprehend.

  “Enough!” she said. “Please.”

  He stopped with a chuckle and helped her to stand up, his hands going to her shoulders, massaging the tension out. Gigi hadn’t even realized she’d been putting so much pressure on them.

  He turned her around, the look on his face carnal. Before she could say anything, he kissed her, nipping at her bottom lip. “Amazing,” he murmured.

  “It was,” she agreed.

  “It’s not over yet; we’re only just getting started.”

  Chapter 23

  Max felt content for the first time in a long, long time. Gigi took him back to a time before Chelsea poisoned him and his whole goddamn life. He didn’t want to go to work tonight. He wanted to stay in and make love to the woman who was tucked up against him, her head on his shoulder, her red hair tickling his skin. He’d had no intention of starting a sexual relationship so soon. After Chelsea, he’d sworn up and down that he would only do one-night stands, and that was only if he got desperate. Erin and work had kept him too busy to actually hook up with anyone, so the only action his cock had been getting was with his right hand.

  With an expiration date in sight, he knew he had to make the most of Gigi. This girl was amazing. Her willingness to try different things blew his mind; what was left of it came up with different ways to make her submit to him. She was also amazingly receptive to every touch, every caress and every stroke. Chelsea had always battled with this side of him, never fully giving herself over to Max. He hadn’t realized how frustrating that was until now.

  Until Gigi.

  His hand slid between their bodies, his finger sweeping up over the tops of her thighs and lower belly. She sighed in her sleep, snuggling closer to his side. One of her dusky pink nipples was revealed when she shifted, giving Max more ideas than he knew what to do with. One of his biggest fantasies, and one that Chelsea had never indulged him in, was having a woman get herself off while he watched. Just the thought of it made his cock begin to swell.

  Gliding his fingers back down her body, he slipped them between her folds and into the well of her body.

  “Gigi,” he whispered, nuzzling into her neck. She moaned gently and turned onto her back, putting her naked body on glorious display. Leaning down, Max took one of her breasts into his mouth and teased her nipple with his tongue. She moaned again, louder this time, and her eyes slowly opened.

  “Good morning,” he said, his mouth and tongue still preoccupied.

  She smiled then gasped when he bit down on her sensitive flesh. “I should wake up like this all the time.”

  Damn fucking straight. “Will you do something for me?”

  “If you keep doing what you’re doing, I’d agree to just about anything.” One of her hands dug into his hair, her fingers tightening against his scalp when he flicked his tongue over her nipple again.

  “I want you to masturbate while I watch.” He moved his mouth over to her other breast, waiting for her response. He could see her chest rising and falling faster, the very idea of doing what he’d asked turning her on.

  “Okay.”

  He lifted his head. “Really?”

  She nodded. He sat up, positioning himself beside her. She stayed on her back, staring at him. In his periphery, he could see she’d started tracing slow circles around her glistening peaked nipples, her mouth opening slightly to let a shuddered breath escape. Max’s eyes darted to her other hand, watching it move down her body. Gigi’s legs fell open, her fingers skimming through the fine hair of her mons. Impossibly, his already engorged cock hardened further. He palmed himself, rubbing his hand from base to tip. She watched his progress, biting down on her lower lip. Her cheeks, neck and chest had all blossomed with color, the side of her throat barely able to contain her racing pulse.

  She gasped when one of her fingers sank inside her, and Max wished it was his cock. He restrained himself though. He knew what denial did to someone—it made getting the prize at the end so much better. She pushed her digit in again, deeper this time. It made her writhe against the bed, making her breasts tremble and drawing his attention. With his hand still on his erection, he bent and sucked one of her perfect breasts into his mouth.

  “Yes,” she whispered.

  He leaned back; he had to rein in his desires to watch Gigi bring herself to orgasm. Her hand was moving at a frantic pace now, her fingers alternating between circling her clit and thrusting inside her.

  She licked her lips. “I’m going to come soon,” she whimpered, her eyes first fixing on his face then dropping to his hips.

  Max was still massaging his erection, his actions just as frenzied as hers. He was matching her stroke for stroke, and he could feel the first signs of release on the horizon.

  “Watching you is such a turn on. Come with me,” she added.

  “Fuck, yeah,” Max agreed with an erotic growl, his palm increasing the friction. His lower
back tightened, the muscles in his abdomen starting to coil. Gigi’s hips popped off the bed, her breathing coming out in short sharp pants.

  “Yes, yes, yes,” she exhaled. Her lids slid down over her green eyes, her mouth forming a little ‘o’. Watching her orgasm was the final straw. With a shout, he came. He offloaded onto his hand and stomach, his whole body shaking with the aftershocks. When he could focus on the room once more, he found her looking at him.

  Bringing the finger she’d been using to get herself off with to her mouth, she slid it past her lips, licking off her arousal. Max’s eyes rolled back in his head.

  “Fuck, don’t do that, Gigi,” he ground out.

  “Why not?” she asked innocently.

  His eyes cut to hers. “Because I’ll want to fuck you and I need at least fifteen minutes to recover.”

  She sighed, letting her hand drop away from her mouth. “It’s probably for the best. I have a class in about an hour anyway.”

  Fuck. He forgot it was Monday.

  “Let me just go and get cleaned up and then the bathroom is all yours.” Sitting up, he grabbed his boxer briefs from the floor and wiped away what he could then walked to the bathroom. The whole way, he could feel Gigi’s hot gaze on his ass. Once in the bathroom, he turned on the shower and jumped in, stepping from the cubicle less than a minute later. Sliding a towel from the rack, he wrapped it around his waist, leaving the rest of his body wet.

  Stepping into the hall, he turned to go back to his bedroom, but the tone of Gigi’s voice coming from the direction of the living room immediately set off his internal alarms.

  “Max, there’s a woman here to see you,” she called, her words cold and clipped. He frowned. The only women who knew where he lived were his mother and Evangeline. He walked down the hall, emerging in the kitchen and into his own personal hell.

  “Chelsea? What the fuck are you doing here?” he snapped, his hand grabbing for the edge of the towel and holding it protectively against his body.

  “Who is she, Max?” Gigi asked.

  “Who am I?” Chelsea chimed in. “I’m his wife. Didn’t he tell you he was married?”

  Gigi’s already pale skin seemed to lose more color. “Wife?” she whispered.

  “That’s right,” Chelsea purred, stepping forward and dragging her hand down Max’s chest and stomach. He tensed from the contact, his muscles bunching and twitching in irritation.

  “Oh,” Gigi said quietly. “I guess I’ll just get what I need and get ready at my apartment.”

  “Gigi, wait,” he called.

  “Now, where’s that cock I’ve been missing?” Chelsea asked. With one of her long nails, she unhooked Max’s towel and let it drop to the floor. She wrapped her fingers around his shaft and pulled roughly. He looked down, thankful that his dick had no intention of rising to the occasion.

  With a tight jaw, he picked up the towel and stepped away, making his way down the hall. He nudged open Gigi’s bedroom door with his bare foot. “Gigi?” He found her angrily stuffing clothes and books into her suitcase. He stepped fully into the room. “What are you doing?” he demanded.

  She looked up, perhaps noticing him for the first time. Her eyes had tears in them, but beneath them was anger. It shone more brightly than her tears, and he was damn sure it would last longer than them too. “You told me your wife was dead.”

  He ran a hand through his hair. “She is to me.”

  “Calling yourself a widower and actually being one are two different things,” she spat. “You’re still married.”

  “You don’t understand,” he said, wanting to wrap his arms around her and stop her from packing up her things. “She left me.”

  “How am I supposed to believe you after you lied about something so huge?” Her demand was made with a wave of her arm to indicate the other room and the shit-storm that had arrived on his doorstep.

  “I know it looks bad, but you have to believe me, Gigi. I never meant to hurt you. I never meant for—”

  “Your wife and mistress to meet?” she volleyed back. She snorted, derision coating the sound. “No, I don’t suppose you did. Are you even from LA, or was that a lie too?”

  Max wanted to lash out at her, but he held his tongue. She had every right to be angry. “I am from LA.”

  “And the whole leaving in a few months thing? Was that when you had to get back to your supermodel wife?” She slammed her suitcase shut, jerking the zip halfway around before it got stuck. She began swearing under her breath, trying to get the thing shut.

  “Here, let me help you.”

  “No!” she yelled, glaring at him. “I can do this myself.” She struggled for another few minutes before she gave up completely. Tugging on the handle, the bag dropped to the floor, books and clothes spilling out the side. Gigi ignored them, dragging the bag behind her on the way to the front door. Chelsea was sitting on the couch, looking self-righteous.

  “Trouble in paradise, Max?” she asked smugly.

  He shot her a keep-the-fuck-out-of-this look and continued after Gigi. She was out the door and almost at the elevator. “Gigi, just wait.”

  She spun around, jabbing a finger into his chest. “Wait for what? More lies? More heartache?” The fight drained out of her, and her gaze fixed on something over his shoulder. In a whisper, she said, “I quit.”

  The elevator car arrived, swallowing Gigi up and making her disappear before his eyes. When he turned back, Chelsea was lounging against the doorjamb in her designer outfit and Louboutin heels.

  He felt his shoulders slump. “How did you find me?” He knew Sam hadn’t blabbed. He hoped that his mother hadn’t.

  “Evangeline,” she said. “Yes, your boss was surprised to hear that I didn’t know where my husband was.”

  He couldn’t be upset that Evangeline had sent the bitch his way; she was ignorant of the situation. “What did you tell her?”

  Chelsea stared at her false nails, pulling a face. “I broke a nail,” she pouted, holding her hand out for him to see. He arched a brow at her and crossed his arms. How had he ever been attracted to this woman? She was so vacuously clichéd. “I told her I’d been away on an extended vacation and had come home early to surprise you only to find my apartment packed up, and my husband missing.”

  Brushing past her, he walked back into his apartment and looked around. He saw Gigi everywhere in there. Goddamn Chelsea.

  “Who was the girl, Max? She was a little young for you, don’t you think?”

  “Erin’s nanny,” he replied, not biting at her other dig. He turned to her. “You remember Erin, don’t you? She’s your daughter; you know, the one you walked out on?”

  Chelsea’s haughty expression faltered, her regret peeping through. The bitch does have a heart, after all, Max thought.

  “How is she?” she asked.

  “Still alive, no thanks to you,” he snarled. He wanted to go to Erin’s room and pick her up—hold her close to him—but he didn’t want Chelsea to see her. She had given up the right to have anything to do with their daughter the second she’d decided she was going to leave.

  “Can I see her?”

  Hell-fucking-no. “Is that why you came here, why you tracked me down?”

  “I made a mistake, Max.” She was wearing her repentance like a couture gown now, but Max could see through it all. She wanted something from him. The question now was, what was it?

  “It’s too late for that, Chelsea. You made your decision. You can damn well live with it.”

  She walked towards him, her eyes fixed and hungry. She ran a hand over his bare shoulder, pulling him down so she could whisper in his ear. “I can live with the decision, but I know you can’t live without me, Max. We’re so good together; we always have been.” Her tongue darted out and ran around the shell of his ear, her lips wrapping around the lobe.

  Max gently pushed her off him and walked a few paces away. “We were good together, Chelsea—past tense.”

  Her expression flickered to
annoyance. “We’re married. We have a child together.”

  “You’re right. We are married, but that can be changed. And if you take me to court to get custody of Erin, I can guarantee I’ll fight you. You would never get a judge to rule in your favor anyway. You left your then four-month-old daughter alone in the middle of the night.” Fuck, he needed to get dressed. Having this conversation in nothing but a towel didn’t really scream serious. Stalking off in the direction of his bedroom, he attempted to get dressed quickly, but his spine stiffened when he heard her move to the doorway.

  “There’s no rush to get dressed so soon, Max. It’s been a long time. I thought we could get reacquainted.”

  “Get out of my bedroom,” he snarled, not bothering to turn around. He couldn’t stand the sight of her. There was only one woman he was interested in now, and she had just run out on him. But he was determined to get her back. Chelsea reached around him, palming his cock through the towel. “What are you doing?” he bit out.

  “Making you feel good, baby.” She pressed her breasts into his back, rubbing them against him.

  “I’m not interested,” he replied. Pulling her hand away, he added, “And neither is my dick.”

  Her expression turned arctic. “You’re fucking that girl, aren’t you?” Her demand made his fingers twitch.

  “Even if I were, I don’t see how that’s any of your business. You left us, remember?”

  “And I already said that I made a mistake. I want to come back to you and Erin. I want us to be a family again.”

  Max knew he should have at least tried with Chelsea, but couldn’t think about it now. He was too angry. Dropping his towel, he stepped into a fresh pair of jeans and pulled a tee over his head. He didn’t give a fuck that Chelsea was there watching him. Brushing past her, he went to collect Erin and strapped her into her stroller. Speaking over his shoulder, he said to Chelsea, “I want you gone by the time I get back.”

  Chapter 24

  Gigi kept her head down as she walked back to her and Jen’s apartment. The suitcase in tow felt heavier than it should, but she put that down to her humiliation hitching a ride with it. How could she have been so stupid? He was married? She knew she shouldn’t have gotten involved with Max, but he really was too much of a temptation for her to resist. She felt as if every person she passed knew what had just happened to her, and were judging her.