Accidentally Hooked (The Naked Truth Series Book 1)

by Falcone, Carmen

  He licked her nipple, and his hand massaged the other. The moisture from her thighs seeped through her pants, she was sure. A rasping sound flew past his lips when he switched from one breast to the other. This time, he sucked it without delay, grazing his teeth on her tight bud, and increasing the blazing tornado in her bloodstream.

  Could it get any better?

  He touched her waistline, then his hand perused yet lower and he fumbled to find her zipper. Oh, yes, it could—and would—get much better. She caressed his shoulders, her fingernails scratching his bare flesh.

  “Are you trying to distract me?” His voice dropped an octave, his accent even more pronounced. He nipped on her swollen breast, and she smothered a cry of pleasure.

  “Is it working?”

  Chuckling, he unzipped her pants. The polyester soon pooled at her feet and she kicked them to the side. Ryan continued his exploration, slipping a couple of fingers in her white lacy panties. At first, he drew an invisible pattern on her sex, each time threatening to go lower, each time making her inhale all the air in the room only to exhale at once, clumsily.

  She buckled, the promise of a climax fogging her brain. Finally, he inserted two fingers into her warm, swollen walls. She clawed him harder on his back. A coarse whimper pushed past her throat. “More.”

  Ryan kissed his way up her neck and jaw line, while adding his thumb to tease her clit. She shut her eyes, the overpowering sensation building and growing in her heart, her pussy, her thighs. Perhaps sensing how close she was, he intensified the stroking of his fingers, which were now coated with her pearly essence. Flicking her clit, he took her mouth in a frantic kiss—as if his lips, teeth, and tongue searched for something beyond what was being offered.

  Clinging to him, she wrapped one leg around his torso, and the positioning sent her right over the edge. She caught a hint of the scent of her arousal, and her body roared. He increased the pressure, the rhythm.

  A zingy, tingly sensation started to throb her clitoris and spread throughout her body. The dominant surge of pleasure clenched her muscles, curled her toes, and she quivered, letting the air out in panted breaths. A lightness, different from anything she’d ever experienced, washed over her, and lingered when she began to slow her pace.

  “Open your eyes,” he commanded.

  She followed suit, and blinked a couple of time to focus on his criminally handsome face, and the shameless grin forming on his sexy lips.

  “That’s how gorgeous you are,” he said with a tenderness that shrank her heart.

  She curled her fists, reality taking over the climax. They were still half-dressed, against the glass door. And she was…supposed to get paid for this. Paid! A chill ran down her spine, and she straightened her shoulders and wiped the sweat from her forehead.

  “Kika…is that your real name?”

  She loosened her leg on his torso until her foot touched the cold, sterile marble. “It’s a nickname. For Francisca.”

  “Francisca.” Her named rolled out of his tongue, smooth like rose petals. He pulled her to him, and in one fluid movement, scooped her up on his arms. She gasped, her legs fidgety. “We should do this the right way, Francisca.”

  Soon, he erased the distance from the bed and eased her on the plush mattress. The right way? Her throat thickened. What could be right about what she was doing? And enjoying.

  Kika shook her head. What difference did it make? Ryan would go back to Australia, and she’d head to New York to stalk department stores’ buyers and try and sell them her jewelry. She removed her shirt and bra and tossed them on the bedside table. In a couple days’ time, Ryan would be just a memory. Why not make the best of it?

  ***

  Ryan reared back, the relentless throb from his heart rushing to his thighs. Francisca, if that was her real name, was exquisite. She lay on the bed, her olive skin glistening against the gold bedspread. A small lump traveled down her delicate throat, and he watched her full breasts rise with her intake of breath, the cinnamon-colored tips begging for his attention.

  His cock twitched.

  She peered at him, and he stood up and removed his jeans, kicking them to the side. A zingy current stretched between them, and he couldn’t look away.

  “Don’t stop.” She pointed at his black boxer briefs.

  “Couldn’t if I wanted to.” Aware of her undivided attention, he slid down his boxers, and his cock sprung out. Flecks of silver sparked in her eyes as she slipped the pink tip of her tongue out of her mouth and licked the curve of her lips.

  By the time he reached the bed, she scooted over the edge and rotated to her belly. “Come here.” She fisted him, and every part of him tensed. The only beating part was his length, his blood hotter than the Outback in the summer. His stomach curled. Being in control and touching her, making her moan earlier…that had been easy. That, he understood.

  Bringing him closer, she flicked her tongue on his flesh, and he fought the buckling of the back of his knees. She lifted her head and stared at him; his heart beat staccato. Sexiest. Woman. Ever. Smiling, she took his length in her mouth, and he threw his head back. Fuck. The hot, moist recesses welcomed his cock, which grew bigger inside her.

  He groaned. She cupped his balls gently, and ran her teeth along his skin.

  Grazing. Branding. Tasting. He leaned down and thrust both hands in her hair, applying a deep pressure on her scalp. She let a couple of moans out, and intensified the strokes on him, licking his balls and scratching his thighs.

  A thread of sweat slicked his forehead. He wasn’t going to last much longer. Propping herself on one elbow, she shifted on the mattress, changing her angle so he was able to appreciate her luscious breasts. “You’re killing me, love.”

  “If you die on me, you’ll miss”—she pushed her breasts together, leaned forward, and placed his length in between them—“this.”

  Air socked from his lungs. She started to massage his cock with her breasts, the two globes of perfection squeezing him. His groin contracted, and fluid coated the tip of his penis. A firestorm flooded through his veins.

  No. He couldn’t come yet.

  He pulled her to the middle of the bed. The frown between her eyebrows gave him the assurance he needed. She was ready.

  He retrieved a condom from his wallet, and rolled it on. His fingers trembled. Although he’d just met her, a part of him acted like he’d waited for this his whole life. He shook his head. I’m so turned on I can’t think straight.

  With a wicked smile on his face, he joined her on the bed. She opened her legs, and he melded his mouth to hers in a kiss that demanded. Explored. Savored.

  He drove himself inside her, and they both moaned. He didn’t expect her to be this tight, her walls barely letting him move against them. A current of electricity bolted through him. Inhaling, he removed his cock from her, and thrust again, plunging into her.

  He dipped his head down and licked the sweat trickling between her breasts. The fresh odor and her sexy, tantalizing arousal scent filled the room. Each time he impaled her, his heart threatened to gallop out of his chest. Beads of sweat slicked his hair, his buttocks, his torso.

  She linked her arms around him, and the closeness pushed him over the edge. He flicked her clit, and watched as her curvy body quivered under his. A flush spread across her cheeks, and coarse whispers in Spanish fled her parted mouth.

  He withdrew from her one last time, the tip of his length all the way out. He didn’t want to be out. He wanted…her. She wrapped her legs around him, and he went in for his last thrust, all the remaining pieces of his self-restraint exploding as pleasure claimed him and poured out of him.

  Sated, he fell on top of her, his skin sticking to hers. She shifted to the right, and a cool breeze swept over him. A ridiculous sense of intimacy compelled him to kiss her shoulder and whisper, “Don’t move.”

  He swung one leg over the other and sprung out of bed, strode to the bathroom, and disposed of the condom. Opening the tap, he spl
ashed cold water on his face and dried it with a towel. I screwed her.

  Walking back into the room, he rubbed his neck, trying to alleviate the kink. Having sex with her didn’t give him the evidence he needed to show his sister what kind of man she was about to marry. It didn’t prove anything other than he acted like a horndog who hadn’t gotten any in ages.

  He peered around, his pulse racing at the anticipation of finding her again. Disappointment poured over him when he spotted the rumpled sheets on the empty bed, the mix of sweat and arousal scent in the air.

  Already dressed with the black pants and bra, she was leaning down to scoop her shirt from the floor. The tousled hair and labored breath reminded him of what they’d just done. What he wanted to do again. “You moved.”

  “All good things come to an end, right?” She stood up straight and put on the top. “Time to jet.”

  “I’m not done.”

  She upped her eyebrow and pointed her head at his hardening cock. “I can see that. Unfortunately for you, I’m calling it a night.”

  “Why the hurry?” He grabbed a flower from the vase and walked to her, pouting his lip and making a sad face. “Stay.”

  She rested both hands on her waist. “Hard to resist a hot naked man walking over with an erection and a Lily of the Valley.”

  “Pardon?”

  She smiled. “The flower you’re carrying. It blooms just once a year and has to be harvested by hand.” He erased the distance between them and lurked behind her, his lips hovering over her ear lobe. “It has a very short shelf life,” she continued.

  He ran his index finger along the green stem, then offered her the bell-like flower. “How do you know?”

  “I worked in a flower shop once. In Vermont.” She touched the flower, her fingers toying with the stem so gently. Covering her hand with his, he clamped his lips to suppress the groan floating up his throat. The simple brush against her skin ignited, or rather reignited, his body to stiffen.

  He exhaled all at once; sure he couldn’t hold it any longer. Never mind that he was a fantastic swimmer. That woman put his lungs to the test. “That was an interesting change of careers.”

  In a blink, Kika straightened her shoulders and moved away from him, taking the flower with her. “Yeah. Listen, I really have to go. It’s been a long evening.”

  He scratched the back of his head. “When can I see you again?”

  She cleared her throat. “You can’t.”

  Come again? Wasn’t repeat business important for her, er, occupation? “You’re not a good salesperson, are you? After what we’ve just done, well, I assume you’d want to see me again.”

  Her lips parted into a sassy smile. “Australian Boy never hears a no. Too bad.”

  He shook his head. “How can I change your mind?”

  “You can’t.” She sauntered to the entry door and he followed her, naked. He should have come up with a magic idea to lure her back into his bed. To make her trust him, and tell him what he wanted to know. Yet, all he managed was to walk behind her, entranced by the sway of her round hips.

  When she reached the door, she clasped the handle and turned to him. A small lump made its way down her throat. Her payment. Right.

  He dashed to the room, retrieved his wallet and returned, handing her a thousand dollars. “Come over if you change your mind. You will change your mind,” he added, his voice firm and commanding. He couldn’t predict the future, not every time, but he knew their paths would cross again soon. Very soon.

  Without counting the money, she tossed it into her small handbag.

  She opened the door, her hand clenching the bronze door handle. For a moment, he thought, hoped, she was going to change her mind and stay with him. With robotic movements, she tossed him a glance over her shoulders.

  Her eyes had darkened to a midnight shade, and the sparks he had enjoyed during sex were gone. “Thanks for the flower.” She let go of the door handle and shut the door behind her, so quietly, it barely made a sound.

  ***

  Kika sprinted out of the room, wishing her legs could keep up with the frantic beats of her heart. I’m doing the right thing. Well, that was debatable, but she couldn’t have stayed.

  She called the elevator and rushed inside, and temporary relief soothed her when she realized she was alone. Alone. Wasn’t that why she’d pretended to be a hooker? To be someone else, and not alone?

  A different sensation of loneliness had assailed her when he’d gone to the bathroom. It was as if that paid hook-uphad awakened a longing she never knew she had. What would it be like to be in a relationship without an expiration date? Her fear of turning into her late mother—a woman whose love for her sleaze ball father didn’t fade even with the distance after she’d moved with her kids to the States—had kept Kika in check her entire life.

  When Ryan returned to the room, she’d already decided it was best to go. Never mind the mind-blowing sex. She’d fought every fiber of her being and maintained her resolve. Ryan was just a fantasy. Maybe that’s why she was confused…fantasies weren’t meant to last. They were like relationships, but ended on a happier note.

  Her cell phone beeped.

  Are you okay? You texted me some guy’s passport information?

  A text message from Elena. The bestie she had met while working in New York, three years ago. Even with having to move and travel, they always kept in touch.

  I’m fine. I’ll call tomorrow and explain. Thanks for checking in, she typed, then tossed the phone in her pocket.

  With a dulled sound, the elevator doors opened and she scurried out of the elevator, crossing the lobby. She touched her head to pull her fedora down, but her fingers found her hair instead. Shit. Her favorite accessory. She’d bought it from a dinky little shop in Paris. Ducking her head, she fixed her gaze on the floor and hoped she wouldn’t be noticed. Besides a few tourists in the check-in line, lights were dimmed and a couple of security guards chattered by the revolving doors.

  When she was officially off of hotel property, she reached in her purse for the bills. She walked towards a skinny old man who held a veteran sign, rolled all the money together, and dropped it in his bucket. “Don’t spend all of it in one place.”

  The man’s eyes widened. “This is… Thank you. Thank you.” The smile on his face made her heart sing.

  The song, however, didn’t last long. Returning to her sister’s apartment meant awakening to reality. Ten minutes later, she sucked in her breath and turned the door handle.

  How would she tell Luna what had happened?

  She headed to the living area, and glanced at the two unoccupied red loveseats. Where could her sister be? Shouldn’t her shift be over by now? She glanced at the ginormous Marilyn Monroe picture framed on the off-white wall. “I’m not interested in money. I just want to be wonderful,” said the quote in black bold letters.

  Well, isn’t that freaking appropriate?

  Kika was about to head to the bathroom, when Luna’s spiky heels clanking on the cheap laminate floor announced her entry.

  Oh, this wasn’t going to be a fun conversation. I slept with a guy who’s staying at the hotel where you work. Oh, and I got paid. Just in case, get some vacation time. Asap.

  Clearing her dry throat, Kika spun around to face her sister. Or what looked like her sister.

  A swollen purple mark circled Luna’s right eye, and a trace of blood strayed from her nose. What the hell? A cold shiver ran down Kika’s spine as she noticed the frumpy state of her sister’s golden uniform. Her stomach clenched tight. She rushed to her sister’s side. “Luna, what happened?”

  Kika outlined her sister’s face with trembling fingers, making an effort not to hurt the sensitive area. Jerking back, Luna lifted her hand, gesturing she needed space. Kika didn’t miss the fear in her bruised eyes.

  “You should be sleeping,” Luna whispered, removing her black stiletto shoes and tossing them to the side.

  Sleeping? Was that the best she could do
? “And you should have met me hours ago, remember?” Kika retorted, incredulous. Luna shook her head, the sigh leaving her lips only adding to Kika’s curiosity. “Please tell me who did that to you?” she urged, her heart about to burst out of her chest. She gripped Luna’s hand.

  Luna’s fingers touched the affected area around her eye, and with a frown, she let her hand drop down. “Kika, it’s complicated…”

  Kika placed both hands on her hips, irritation skating up her spine. “No. It’s simple. Someone beat the crap out of you. I’ll go with you to the police so you can press charges. Can you give them a good description?”

  Luna’s black eyes widened, the spark of fear showing again. “I’m not pressing charges.” A whisper.

  Was there a boyfriend in the picture? “Why not? Honey, it’s okay. I’m with you. We’ll get over it, but you can’t let him go free.”

  “Kika, this was…bad luck.”

  “Bad luck was when you died your hair platinum blonde in high school. This is full-on disaster. Why won’t you tell me what’s wrong?” Kika raised her voice, a part of her regretting it immediately. The other part warned her Luna had always been slippery, and this time, Kika couldn’t stand her evasiveness. Not when violence was involved. The need to take down the son of a bitch who did that to her sister throbbed Kika’s temple.

  “Because a lot has changed. I’ve changed.” The pain in Luna’s eyes sparked, like it surpassed the physical one.

  Kika’s heart contracted and she had to touch it and rub it to try foolishly get rid of the suffocating guilt. The same one that had haunted her after Freddy’s death. Kika swallowed the regret lodging in her throat. For the past six years, she’d been the one who should be ashamed. Turning her friendship to her sister into a couple of times a year event, always searching for work as far from her as she could. She hadn’t listened to Luna when she should have, and that had cost Freddy his life. Their brother.

  “I haven’t been here for you, but I am now,” Kika pushed the words out, fighting her blurry vision.