• • •
Sarona stood with her back to the door listening to his receding footsteps, muffled by the carpeting in the hallway. As the muted sound of the elevator arriving reached her ears, she pushed away from the door and headed to the bathroom. Staring back at her reflection in the mirror above the sink, she replayed the events of the evening in her head and examined the hours she’d spent with David.
The brush-off at the door had been nothing more than an act of self-preservation. It was a meager attempt to discourage his interest, and one that was sure to backfire. But if she were honest, she’d admit she’d had a wonderful time. And as long as she was being honest, she might as well admit that no matter how she tried to fight it, she was extremely attracted to the man.
God help her, she was as susceptible as every other red-blooded female within a fifty-foot radius to his alluring personality, that amazing scent, and his drop dead gorgeous good looks. She’d been captivated by his beautiful eyes and had loved watching how they’d sparkled with mischief and merriment when the conversation invariably turned to sexual innuendo. His smile was intriguing, followed often by an infectious laugh, the sound of which bordered wickedly on girl-go-ahead-and-drop-your-drawers-now sexy. To her surprise, he was a fun guy to be with. He was intelligent, charming, and funny. Despite the fact that he was capable of pouring on the charm and charisma to captivate and spellbind any woman alive, she had the feeling that instead he’d relaxed and let himself go, and had enjoyed the evening as much as she had.
Hours later and still trying vainly to put the evening behind her, Sarona was wide awake, tossing and turning. Romantic thoughts of David ran rampant through her mind, closely followed by unexpected and unwanted heated responses from her traitorous body. Before tonight she hadn’t given him more than a passing thought of interest, but now she couldn’t get him out of her head.
Damn him! He’d charmed and teased her and made her laugh and had gotten under her skin like an annoying itch she couldn’t reach or scratch. They’d only spent one evening together. How could one evening have such an effect on her? Suddenly her mind was in chaos and her body was on fire with a scorching desire that until now had barely existed? She couldn’t keep the vision of his face, his eyes, and that sinful mouth — perfect, beautiful, and delicious — from flashing before her eyes. It should be against the law to look that gorgeous, to be that sexy; it was a lethal combination and a deadly distraction for average folk like her.
As a matter of fact, it would be better for womankind everywhere if he wore a warning label that said “Caution, Proceed at Your Own Risk.” At least a girl would have some idea what she was in for. “The man should be registered,” she mumbled to herself, irritated with where her thoughts continued to take her.
Ultimately, unable to push him back into obscurity where he belonged, she had no choice but to give up and give in to her now awakened and unrequited needs — needs she could no longer ignore or deny. She needed to feel the touch of a man’s hands on her body, insistent and demanding. She needed to feel the brush of full, sensual lips, tempting and inviting, delivering long, deep, and drugging kisses.
She needed to feel the long, hard length of a man pressed intimately against her hot and waiting divide, pulsing, pushing and persistent. No longer able to resist her inner calling for relief she let go and fell forward into her own private world of imagery and imagination, wrapping herself inside a gossamer shroud of sexual fantasies.
She imagined his handsome face hovering inches from her own as she stared into amber eyes, dark and smoldering with intense desire. She felt his hands softly caressing her body, his fingers skimming, stroking her curves, gripping her cheeks, delving within her depths, and teasing and tweaking her taut bare nipples, and her mind took her farther and deeper into the fantasy.
She felt the brush of his curls rub against her breasts, tease her stomach, and torment her inner thighs as his hands kneaded and fondled her body. The touch of his lips and the thrust of his tongue seared and burned her skin as his heated mouth slowly made its way lower, licking, sucking, and tasting every inch of her. Her extended nub of flesh, firm and protruding, anticipated the hot, silken stroke of his tongue.
Her nipples hardened to the point of pain; her breath quickened and her heart raced, as she was inescapably caught up in her perfectly contrived web of passion and seduction. A moan escaped her lips, and her own hands took on the role of imagined masculine exploration. She brushed and rubbed her clit and separated her lips; her fingers entered her hot, wet channel, plunged in and out, and moved back and forth at a frantic, frenzied pace. Her body responded, bucking, stretching, and reaching for release.
Try as she might, her imagination and manipulations simply weren’t enough. She wanted more, needed more. Dammit! What she needed, she thought in exasperation, was the real thing. Dissatisfied, her body awash with frustration, Sarona reached inside the drawer of the nightstand and pulled out her number one essential item. With the flick of a switch, she disrupted the silence of the night with the unmistakable whispering whir of electronic vibrations.
• • •
David entered his suite and angrily snatched off his blazer and threw it across the room, watching it miss the mark completely and land on the floor. “Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!” he angrily berated himself. How could he be so stupid? He knew damn well she was wary of him — how could he make such a mistake? He should never have made that comment. As soon as it was out of his mouth, her entire attitude changed, and she put the brakes on so fast he felt like he had whiplash. The drop in temperature happened so quickly, he seriously thought that maybe he should check his extremities for frostbite.
He needed to think, and to think, he needed a drink. He walked over to the bar and poured himself a double shot of Hennessey. He turned on the radio, dialed in the local jazz station and adjusted the volume. Taking his glass and moving toward the balcony, he stopped to remove his shoes and socks and absently allowed his toes to stretch and curl into the softness of the plush carpet.
He opened the sliding glass doors and breathed deep, trying to clear his head. Staring out at the blinking city lights below and sipping his drink, David tried to regroup and formulate a plan. He needed a strategy to get past Sarona’s defenses and get her where he wanted her — into his bed. Tonight’s unexpected turn of events might be cause for concern, but he couldn’t let it discourage him. It’s just a minor setback, he told himself. Setbacks could be overcome, but the stakes had been raised. This was no longer a challenge or question of if. It was merely a matter of when.
After spending the entire evening absorbed in conversation and surrounded by her presence, he was more obsessed now than ever before. There was no way he was leaving this place without experiencing more of her. He had to have her because his body burned and ached from needing her. He had to touch, stroke, and taste her and uncover every intimate detail. Something dark and needy deep within him had to know if she tasted as sweet as that caramel drizzled over vanilla ice cream fantasy he couldn’t erase from his mind.
Still unyielding in his determination, he set aside his drink, turned off the lights, and shed the remainder of his clothing, throwing them across a nearby chair. The room, dimly lit by lighting from buildings nearby, the street lights below, and the now and again flash of passing headlights, became the backdrop of his painfully persistent dance with want, need, and desire.
He stood fully nude before the large glass window, his mind filled entirely with a vision of Sarona. His hands slid down his body, tracing the ridges of his impressively toned and muscled chest and abdomen. His leisurely exploration stopped at his groin where he gripped his already hardening cock and began a slow, massaging stroke. He closed his eyes and allowed the sweet, sensual sound of the music to wash over him, surround him, and wrap him up in its seductive spell. And his mind slipped and fell into fantasy, drawing on what he knew for certain and everything he imagined…and with mind, hope, and passion, he reached for her.
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br /> Every detail, every shapely curve, slope and hollow — even that quirky, annoyed look she sometimes gave him — was emblazoned in his head. Her luscious body lay before him, the soft, rich brown of her skin in stark contrast to the bone-white satin sheets; her hair draped around her face and shoulders creating a sensual, silky curtain of seduction; her deep brown eyes sexy and sultry; and her moist, succulent lips, slightly open, demanding to be kissed and devoured. With his virtual fantasy of breasts, curves, lips, eyes, and beautiful brown skin firmly etched in his mind, he leaned forward, legs spread apart, with one hand splayed on the glass and the other firmly wrapped around his shaft and let his imagination take him. He allowed it to lift him higher to bring him closer to deliverance from his constant state of want, arousal, and sexual frustration.
His hand stroked his shaft in a steady, up-down rhythm, twisting on the downward stroke. He gripped and teased his sac, sending short bursts of pleasure spiraling up into his stomach and down his thighs, to return and center in his groin. The sensation was an almost unbearable ache that left him balancing on that thin line between pleasure and pain. His skilled and practiced hand brought him so close to letting go; he could feel the threatening eruption of surging, pearly white cream, churning and pushing its way to the surface.
Reaching the edge came much quicker these days, but he had no intention of crossing over and bringing himself to climax. He wanted to savor the feeling, endure the pain and make it last. He refused to give in and let go until he found himself inevitably buried balls-deep inside his one and only passionate obsession, Sarona Maxwell. Denying himself had become a form of torture he endured, taking himself to the edge, teetering but never going over. He made himself wait, envisioning and anticipating how relief would be just that much sweeter once he found himself sheathed and surrounded by her wet, velvet softness.
Breathing deeply to ease himself back from the edge, he slowly released his grip on his cock and waited for the feeling of near euphoria to subside. He groaned and pulled himself out of his fantasy and back from the brink of madness. Shaking his head, he rubbed his face and sullenly thought what sweet, torturous pleasure it was to give in to the power of imagination, and reaching for his glass he stared out into the dark of night — naked, vulnerable and achingly alone.
He’d worked hard at being a success, and he’d succeeded in both his public and private life. But for all he’d done and all he’d gained he found himself thinking more and more on what was missing. He admitted his reputation as a womanizer was true and well deserved. He made no excuses or apologies for that; it was the life he’d lived. However, contrary to what Sarona and the others might believe, his womanizing days had all but come to a screeching halt. He hadn’t been with a woman in nearly a year. Ten months, twenty-three days, to be exact.
He’d kept up the appearance of being on the hunt because it staved off boredom and he knew it was expected, but he’d grown tired of keeping up appearances. He’d made a conscious decision to step back from engaging in random, unfulfilling sex, simply for the thrill and the conquest. But, somewhere along the line between his intentions and his libido, Ms. Maxwell had moved in and taken up residence in his subconscious, and suddenly his sexual fantasy control switch was permanently stuck in the on position. How it had happened he couldn’t say. All he knew was that she now reigned over his every thought and action, and the interminable wait to possess her was causing him to lose what little control he had left.
He was still contemplating his dilemma with Sarona when the ringing of the phone brought him out of his brooding state.
“Hello?”
“Hey man, it’s Brice. What’s up?”
“Hey Brice, how’s it going?”
“Oh, pretty much the same old thing on this end. What about you? How’s it going there? Learn any new and exciting revelations in the world of high-tech operations to keep us in step with the competition?”
“No, no such luck. So far they haven’t shown me a thing we don’t already know. As a matter of fact, we’re so far ahead of these guys, maybe I should be teaching the class,” he replied with a laugh.
“Yeah, I thought so.” Brice chuckled. “The reason I called was to give you an update on our latest project. I have an appointment tomorrow morning at ten A.M. to make our pitch to that potential new client. I’ve done my homework, looked at their problem areas and weaknesses, and assessed their needs. I think we have a lot to offer in the way of streamlining their communications capabilities and upgrading their security.”
“That’s great news.”
“It sure is. I thought it might be something worth passing on, especially since you’re there making such a sacrifice and taking one for the team.” He laughed out loud. What about you? How are things shaping up with your personal agenda? Have you run into your Amazon Queen yet? How’s the plan coming to charm and capture?”
Brice Coleman was not only David’s business partner, but his best friend as well. They’d known each other since their college days and had recently embarked upon a business venture together. Both men worked for other companies, but the fact was neither needed to work at all. They each came from wealthy families and had enough money to live the unencumbered lives of jet setters and world travelers. But neither man cared to live life idly without a sense of accomplishment or purpose. That was why, after several late night discussions over beer and pizza, they decided to branch out into business on their own, together. They wanted the challenge of owning and working a business of their own; something in which they had invested their own blood, sweat and tears. So, after endless discussions and debates, they finally came up with the concept for the company Security Matters.
David had told him everything, including his latest obsession with a certain dark-skinned beauty who seemed to constantly run naked through his mind. Brice had found himself fascinated and intrigued with his friend’s out of character and unexpected attraction, bordering on obsession, with Sarona Maxwell. He knew every single dirty detail of David’s bone-deep lust for women in general and Sarona Maxwell in particular. In fact, during their many male bonding sessions when drinking and discussing sports, sex, and women they often joked about the male gender’s driving need to “divide and conquer,” the phrase a metaphor used to refer to dividing a woman’s legs and conquering her sexually.
David briefly went over the events of the evening in his head, and wasn’t exactly sure how to respond to the question. “The night started out pretty well — actually better than I expected. I’d made some major progress until the evening took an unexpected detour and headed south. As usual, I had to force her to notice me, but this time I did it with flare. This time, she was a damsel in distress and I was her knight in shining armor.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“It means she was being harassed by some jerk trying to get into her underwear. I scared him off.”
“Only to replace him with another jerk trying to get into her underwear,” Brice gibed.
“Yeah, well, I’ve had my eyes on that underwear a lot longer than he has. I’ve invested considerable time and fantasy toward the prospect — too much to let some other jerk move in and reap the benefits.”
“Maybe she’s not interested?”
“What’s not to be interested in?” David’s voice was tinged with arrogance. “I’m tall, good looking, and I have a great body — and I smell good too. I repeat, what’s not to be interested in?”
“You forgot to add your humility and overwhelming sense of modesty,” Brice retorted sarcastically. “You know, man, maybe there’s one woman in the world that the famous Broussard charm and pheromones don’t work on. Think about it. It was bound to happen. You’ve had it too easy for too long. Out of all the years I’ve known you, you’ve never once had to work for sex. You and I both know that women line up to throw themselves and their underwear at you. Maybe this is nature’s way of returning the balance to the rest of us poor saps who have to beg for or buy a wo
man’s attention or sexual favors. I believe I speak for all of those less fortunate when I say, ‘Welcome to our world!’”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” David grumbled, trying hard not to consider that there might be some shred of truth in what Brice said. “I just need to use a bit more finesse than usual. Sarona is not your average woman, and my average methods of seduction don’t work with her. That’s what fascinates me about her. Besides the fact she’s sexy as hell, she’s damned full of surprises too. She actually seems to have built-in bullshit radar.”
“Yeah, right,” Brice interrupted. “Before you go on and on again about how exceptionally hot you think Sarona is, you said you ‘thought’ you’d made progress tonight. What happened?”
“What happened was that we had the makings of a great evening together, and things were going fine, until I said something stupid. I could actually tell by the look in her eyes that I’d messed up. She literally shut the door in my face so fast, I’m lucky to still have my nose attached.”
“What did you say?”
“It doesn’t matter what I said. What matters is that this time I made it as far as her door before she ditched me. I was pretty damn angry at first, but now that I think about it, the evening wasn’t a total loss after all. I actually got closer than I’ve ever been before.”
Chapter 4
Tuesday
This day would probably go down in David’s personal record book as the longest day in history. He’d been unable to speak to Sarona at all, not even a brief hello. They weren’t attending the same sessions, so any glimpse he managed between breaks was a stroke of luck. When he did see her, her wary reaction told him last night’s door in the face had set him back at square one. She was avoiding him again.
Prelude to a Seduction Page 4