by Heidi Betts
Sweeping back the covers, she leaped onto the ivory satin sheets, plumped a couple pillows behind her back and tried to adopt a sexy, alluring pose. Marilyn Monroe, Jane Russell, Anna Nicole Smith…she thought of every pinup girl she could remember and tried to channel their spirits.
She pulled the sheet up to her waist, then over her breasts, then threw it off again. Bent her legs to the left, then the right. Threw an arm over her head, then scooted down and laid spread-eagle across the bed like the smorgasbord she hoped he would use her as.
When she heard the rattle of the doorknob, she startled, swallowed a panicked squeak and froze in the best position she could come up with at the last minute. She let the muscles in her face go lax and half-closed her eyes, hoping he wouldn’t notice she was a nervous wreck. She wanted him to think she’d just been lounging on the bed, waiting for him to serve her.
The bedroom door opened and he strolled in, dragging a room service cart behind him. This time it held a bowl of strawberries, a magnum of champagne on ice, two glasses and a very large, decadent, already melting ice cream sundae.
Normally, her stomach would have rumbled at such delicious-looking fare. But at the moment, it was her other four senses and her raging libido that were starving for attention.
Chase turned, his gaze soaking her in, slowly skimming from head to toe. From the hardening of his jaw and the steam rising behind his sea-blue eyes, she thought he must like what he saw.
A thrill rolled through her and she sat up straight, careful to act sleepy and nonchalant.
“Mmm,” she murmured. “It looks good.”
“Yes,” he said slowly, still staring intently at her. “It does.”
After a few tense seconds when she thought he might forget the food altogether and simply lunge at her, he picked up the bottle of Roederer Cristal, dried the bottom with a cloth napkin and popped the cork. He poured the champagne into both flutes, then handed one to her, followed by the bowl of strawberries.
She took a plump, bright red berry and bit into the tip before taking a sip of champagne.
“Good?” he asked, sampling a piece of fruit on his own.
“Delicious.”
Taking a long swallow of champagne, he set his glass and the bowl of strawberries aside and began shrugging out of his clothes. Suit jacket, tie, shoes…they all evaporated as though they were made of smoke.
As naked as she, he turned back to the wheeled cart, grabbed the dripping sundae and a spoon and climbed onto the wide mattress beside her.
“This is what I’m hungry for,” he said.
He lowered her gently until she fell back against the pillows. Before she’d even had a chance to get comfortable or wonder what he might do next, he dropped a dollop of whipped cream right in the center of her belly button.
She gave a little yelp and nearly came up off the bed, her first instinct to get the chilly substance off her bare skin. But the clicking of his tongue and the shimmering heat in his glance reminded her of the game they were playing.
Taking a deep breath, she relaxed her body and sank farther into the pillows and glossy sheets, ready to let him do what he wished with his sweet, sticky dessert and her naked, vulnerable body.
He grinned, flashing straight white teeth at her capitulation and digging once again into the sundae.
It took all of her control, all of her concentration not to squirm and shiver as he decorated her nipples, left dribbles of hot fudge sauce along her chest, midsection and inner thighs. Plucking the bright red maraschino cherry off the top by its stem, he placed it on top of the whipped cream on her navel.
“There,” he announced, setting the remainder of the sundae on the nightstand and sitting back to admire his handiwork. “Perfect.”
She chuckled, a brittle, throaty sound working its way up from her diaphragm. A trickle of vanilla ice cream was melting between her tightly closed legs, heading in a direction where she wanted only warmth—preferably created by Chase. “It’s cold.”
“Hmm,” he hummed, shifting closer. “Let me see what I can do to heat things up.”
His low tone and the determined look in his eyes sent a ripple of anticipation skating down her spine, taking precedence over the goose bumps breaking out along her skin.
He leaned in, covering a smear of chocolate with his tongue, then dragging upward to the underside of her breast. The action caused her nipples to bead beneath the fluffy white clouds he’d deposited there.
She writhed beneath him, her back arching, her arms lifting automatically to reach for him.
“Ah, ah, ah,” he warned without moving his lips from her skin. The words vibrated through her. “No touching from you. Not yet.”
His hands closed around her wrists, pushing her arms up over her head. “Lie back and enjoy.”
Easier said than done, she thought. At the moment, his idea of enjoyment bordered on torment—and he was just getting started.
He licked the whipped cream crowning one breast, tiny flickers like a cat lapping at a bowl of milk, until her nipple was bare.
Elena bit down hard on her bottom lip to keep from crying out as he switched to her other breast. This time he gave a low growl and engulfed the tip all at once. No small nibbles to draw out the agony, but that didn’t make the pleasure any less sharp.
Her hands clutched the pillow behind her head, her heels dug into the mattress. Already, her inner muscles were tightening, begging for release. “Chase, please.”
“Soon,” he whispered, kissing his way back down her stomach, picking up stray hot fudge as he went. “Very soon.”
He slurped the whipped topping from her belly button, working around the cherry, leaving it to fill the indent of her navel. Sliding down, hands skimming her hips, he parted her thighs and began to nuzzle ice cream from between them.
But he didn’t stop there. Even though she was sure the ice cream hadn’t dripped any deeper, he lifted her legs to his shoulders and began to explore. He nibbled, licked, stroked her moist folds until she couldn’t help but clutch at his hair—to pull him away or hold him close, she didn’t know.
When he concentrated his efforts on the hidden bud of her desire, her blood pressure skyrocketed and she climaxed against his mouth almost without warning. Tremors racked her body and she gasped for breath, arms falling to her sides as her bones and muscles turned the consistency of watery oatmeal.
With a feral grin, Chase raised his head and lifted himself on all fours to hover over her. He started to crawl forward, pausing only long enough to close his teeth on the stem of the cherry in her navel and carry it with him to her mouth. Her lips were already parted, her lungs still straining for oxygen.
“No. No more,” she panted, letting her eyes fall closed. “I can’t take any more.”
“Sure you can.” His words were slightly muted as he talked through his teeth, still holding the cherry by its stem. “Open.”
With a sigh that was part exhaustion, part reluctant anticipation, she opened her mouth and let him drop the cherry inside.
“Now close.”
She did, and he tugged, breaking the stem away from the plump, sweet fruit.
“Chew,” he ordered.
Maraschino cherries were one of her favorites and she gave a little moan of enjoyment as the tart juices played over her taste buds and ran down her throat.
In a much softer, huskier voice, Chase said, “Now open again.”
When she did, he meshed his mouth with hers, kissing her deeply, passionately, thoroughly. To her great surprise she found her strength coming back and her arms snaking up to wrap around his shoulders.
He pulled back slightly, his lips curled up at the corners as he hummed with pleasure. “That is the best hot fudge sundae I’ve ever tasted. I never want to eat one with just a spoon again.”
Elena gave a shuddery chuckle. She didn’t know if she could live through another session like that, but she was absolutely sure she would never see sundaes in quite the same way. She wou
ld never be able to look at one without remembering this night and the wicked things Chase Ramsey could do with a bit of whipped cream, chocolate sauce and his tongue.
Oh, that tongue!
“But we aren’t finished yet,” he said.
Scraping his teeth along her jaw and biting her earlobe, he reached into the nightstand drawer for a condom. He tore open the packet and sheathed himself, all without taking his focus from her neck and shoulder. Settling more fully into the cradle of her thighs, he found her feminine opening and sank inside in one long, sleek movement.
She was already wet and more than ready for his entry. Only moments ago, she’d thought herself ruined for ever again experiencing an ounce of pleasure. But she’d underestimated the power of Chase’s mode of persuasion.
He was ruthless, taking no prisoners. There was no slow buildup this time around, no teasing or tantalizing. He filled her to overflowing and began to pound into her like a piston.
His fingers dug into the flesh of her buttocks, pulling her closer to meet him on each thrust.
Harder, faster, he drove the air from her lungs, his own breaths coming rapidly. She tightened her legs around his waist, her nails raking his sweat-slick back.
“Chase,” she moaned.
“Elena,” he groaned in return before burying his face in the curve of her neck and biting gently on the taut line of muscle that ran across to her shoulder.
The orgasm, when it came, rocked her, made the room feel like it was spinning around them and spilled through her like a tidal wave. She gasped…then stopped breathing altogether. Above her, Chase gave one deep, final thrust and shouted with completion.
A second later, he collapsed, his weight pressing her into the mattress. Instead of being uncomfortable, she smiled at the boneless, total relaxation taking over his body. She could feel his heart racing in his chest, in tandem with her own, his breath stirring her hair.
Sooner than she’d have liked, he groaned and rolled away. He lay flat on his back, arms and legs spread wide, while he continued to breathe heavily.
“You’ll be the death of me, Elena,” he said with a heartfelt sigh, rolling his head to the side so he could look at her. He grinned. “But I’ll die a happy man.”
Before she could respond, he pushed up from the bed and walked stark naked to the bathroom, closing the door behind him. Suddenly conscious of her blatant nudity and the fact that she was sprawled like a rag doll in a less-than-attractive position, she hopped up and hurried to the dresser for a nightgown.
Slipping it on, she glanced at her reflection in the mirror. Her cheeks were rosy, the rest of her skin aglow. Her lips looked puffy, reminding her of that old term, “bee-stung.”
She’d never had bee-stung lips before. But then, she’d never been kissed quite as senseless, quite as passionately before, either.
Since her hair was a tousled mess, she ran her fingers through to untangle the long strands, turning just as the bathroom door opened. Chase stood there, still blessedly naked, his hands braced on either side of the doorjamb. Just the sight of him made her pulse pick up and the slippery fabric of the nightie feel rough against her bare skin.
“You didn’t have to get dressed on my account,” he quipped.
She smiled somewhat nervously, curling her painted toes into the soft, thick carpeting. “I’m not used to lying around in the altogether.”
“Too bad,” he said, striding forward and stopping directly in front of her. Using the knuckle of his index finger, he tipped her head up until she had no choice but to meet his crystal blue eyes. “That’s something I’d pay money to see. Besides, we weren’t entirely finished with our dessert. We still have champagne and quite a few strawberries to get through.”
“Well…” she said slowly, butterflies flapping sensuously in her belly, her courage growing in direct proportion to the longing heating up his gaze. Hooking her thumbs under the thin spaghetti straps at her shoulders, she slowly began to peel them down her arms. “It’s just a teeny, tiny scrap of satin. You could get it off again in no time, if you really wanted to.”
Desire flashed across his face, followed by the wicked lift of one dark brow. “Really?”
He replaced her thumbs with his own fingers and finished the job of sliding the top of the nightgown down, uncovering her chest, then her breasts and ribcage. As soon as the straps were free of her arms, he released them, letting the garment drop to the floor where it pooled around her feet.
“Well, will you look at that,” he murmured in mock astonishment. “You’re naked again. Just the way I like you.”
She squealed in surprise when he wrapped his hands around her waist and bent slightly to lift her onto one shoulder.
“Chase! What are you doing?”
“Turning caveman,” he responded without apology.
Stalking to the bed, he flipped her over and dropped her unceremoniously in the middle of the king-size mattress. She bounced on the tight springs and giggled as she couldn’t remember doing since she was a little girl.
Taking two steps to the side, Chase grabbed the bottle of Cristal by its long neck and then hopped on top of her, pinning her in place.
“This time,” he said, his tone leaving no question of his intent, “I want to see how champagne tastes when I sip it from your belly button.”
“All right,” she agreed, stretching out, ready to once again be a part of this man’s dessert. “As long as I can do the same to you.”
Six
The next morning Chase got up even earlier than usual, slipping out of the bedroom while Elena was still asleep. He closed the connecting doors so nothing he said would be overheard, then set about rescheduling his appointments for the day. It wasn’t an easy task, considering most of the meetings had been set up weeks in advance and it was earlier than most of his associates’ offices opened.
But by the time Elena made an appearance—once again wearing the short, sexy green nightie and matching robe that accentuated the emerald of her eyes—his day was clear and he was ready to put his plan into motion.
Although he was chomping at the bit to get going, he tried his best to act normal. He sipped his coffee and read the paper. When she pressed him to eat breakfast, he grumbled, but managed to down a couple of sausage patties and half of the western omelet she transferred from her plate to his.
An hour later, he rose from the table and repeated his speech from the day before, telling her he would be busy until dinnertime and that she should go out and have fun, at his expense. He handed her the same gold card and pile of cash she’d left on the dresser yesterday.
Out in the hall, he took the elevator to the lobby, but instead of leaving the hotel the way he normally would, he found a spot behind a bank of slot machines where he could keep an eye on the entrance without being seen.
He waited longer than he’d expected, checking his watch every few minutes. It took more than an hour for Elena to finally step off the elevator and head for the revolving doors leading outside.
She wore brown chunky heels, loose linen slacks the color of sunflowers and a form-fitting top with renaissance sleeves. Dark-tinted sunglasses were perched atop her head, and she carried a good size tan tote on one shoulder.
Hopping up from his stool, Chase followed her, staying a fair distance behind so she wouldn’t spot him. She stopped on the sidewalk, pulling the sunglasses down to shade her eyes from the bright mid-morning sun as she glanced in both directions, then started walking.
It seemed to Chase that they strolled down the street for an awfully long time. The sidewalks were already crowded, tourists flooding in and out of casinos and storefronts. Perspiration beaded his brow and pooled inside his thousand-dollar designer suit.
He was no stranger to working up a sweat, having grown up on a working ranch in Texas, where it could get just as hot as Nevada. Even though he’d chosen a different path and had more money than Croesus, he still enjoyed spending the day helping his parents or brother on their conne
cting properties. Currying horses, shucking hay, fixing fences…He just didn’t usually do any of those things in a fine Italian suit that cost more than his brother’s favorite saddle.
If Elena didn’t get to where she was going soon, he was going to give up and flag down a taxi to take him back to the Wynn.
Almost as soon as he thought it, she turned into a storefront. He stayed outside, trying to catch a glimpse of her through the giant plate glass windows.
So she was shopping, after all, he thought. The confusing part was that it wasn’t a fancy boutique, didn’t carry shoes or jewelry or designer clothes. It was a candy and toy store, full of fun, colorful products that would have had any child squealing with joy.
Elena strolled up and down the aisles, studying the bins of candy and chocolate, the racks of water pistols, action figures and plastic princess jewelry. When a clerk came up to her, she smiled and started pointing at certain items, nodding when the woman seemed to understand what she was interested in.
What the heck was she doing? Chase wondered. He adjusted his own sunglasses and tried to get a better look without being tagged as a stalker.
He watched as she stacked toys on the checkout counter, the other woman filling bags with assorted candies at Elena’s instruction. By the time they finished, her pile would have put Willy Wonka and his legendary Chocolate Factory to shame.
The clerk scanned everything, rang up the total and Elena handed over a credit card. But it wasn’t a gold one, so it obviously wasn’t his.
Rather than take plastic bags with the store’s logo on them, she put everything into her own tan tote, thanked the woman behind the counter with a wave and headed back toward the street.
Chase whipped around and hurried to the storefront right next door. This time, she flagged down a cab, and he suffered a moment of panic worrying he might lose her. Then, when he caught a taxi of his own, he felt like the headliner of a bad action movie, ordering the driver, “Follow that car!” The hundred-dollar bill Chase flashed kept the driver from commenting or looking at him as though he had a few screws loose.