by Tina Donahue
Seven Sensuous Days
Tina Donahue
Book 4 in the Appointment with Pleasure series.
At an erotic auction, she’s his to bid on. To take. To command.
The night’s sultry, filled with carnal promise as Tessa participates in an agency event to raise money for charity. She’s chained and bared—as women were once displayed for a sultan’s harem—offered to the wealthy and powerful men.
Among them is Logan. To him, Tessa is so different from his late wife, the seemingly perfect female who cruelly stole his hope and future. Wanting only to forget and have a good time, he wins Tessa, demanding she be his in every way possible, engaging in all wanton acts, though not only for an evening…for seven sensuous days at his secluded estate.
A provocative proposal with such a dangerously virile man.
A week that changes everything, with Tessa’s exquisite vulnerability and Logan’s suddenly unquenchable desire more than either bargained for.
A Romantica® contemporary erotic romance from Ellora’s Cave
Seven Sensuous Days
Tina Donahue
Dedication
To talented authors Kayelle Allen and Kathy Kulig, who helped me so much with Triberr. Ladies, you rock!
Author Note
When I began writing erotic romance, I wanted to brand my stories appropriately so readers would know the kind of tales I pen. Not only are they deliciously steamy, but they also touch upon the hearts and souls of my characters. After a lot of thought, I chose “Heat with Heart” to describe my romances. Like Tessa, my heroine, I feel there’s a lot more to sex than the obvious physical component. The emotional connection between two people who are simply meant for each other is what’s truly erotic, enriching the sex. I hope you enjoy Seven Sensuous Days. I loved writing Tessa and Logan’s tale.
Chapter One
Tessa James was not an exhibitionist.
Well, not usually.
Tonight was different, and all for a good cause.
Tessa held her hands behind her back, pushing her chest out, which accentuated her breasts. Her nipples were a delicate pink, puckered and erect despite the balmy night air. She cleared her throat. The ensuing sound seemed too loud despite the exotic music and other noise. It poured past the silk panels that hid her from the male audience…the man who might purchase her at this evening’s auction.
“I’ll be through in a sec, so don’t move,” Felicity instructed.
She ran her forefinger around Tessa’s left nipple, rouging it. Felicity’s touch was hardly sexual, yet it still aroused, reminding Tessa of how a master would behave, brushing his fingertips over her breasts, then down her body as he sought her cleft, stroking her clit to excite and make her wet in preparation for his thickened cock.
She suppressed a shiver of desire. Was this what concubines experienced within a harem in times past? Their bodies meticulously prepared to thrill their masters? The women’s carnal hunger building as they waited to see which one of them he would select to share his bed?
Of course, the ruler had to have purchased the women first, watching as the slave trader disrobed them, allowing everyone in the crowd to savor their vulnerable nudity. Shackled, the females submitted, their gazes darting from man to man…their thoughts racing about the shameless demands soon to be made of them as the bids rang out.
Somewhat like tonight.
Decorators had transformed the pool area of this Maryland estate into a fair representation of a sultan’s palace. In addition to the fountains and numerous silk hangings in plum, olive, and gold, they’d brought in potted palms. Those graceful fronds fluttered in the mild breeze perfumed with the sweet fragrance of countless flowers. Torches provided a provocative and sensuous glow. Strewn between the pool furniture, where tonight’s audience sat, were brocaded pillows in varying shades of purple and carmine. The color of passion. A reminder of a male’s needs and a woman’s willing surrender.
Felicity rouged Tessa’s right nipple, causing it to pucker even more. The makeup’s color was quite a bit lighter than Tessa’s lipstick and nail polish. The dark-red shades matched the navel jewelry she wore, a delicate cascade of tear-shaped garnets that caught the available light and drizzled it over the curve of her belly.
Her body resembled the harem women’s of old whose lush figures drove men wild, which played into this evening’s theme.
A good thing…maybe.
Full-figured, Tessa had battled long and hard to accept her curves, having to rise above the bullying in school, which had been pure torture. Adulthood was better, except that some men men wanted a woman built like a Barbie doll. Ludicrous, yes. However, it still hurt when they ignored her. No matter how many diets she went on, she’d never be Madison Avenue’s notion of the ideal female, which some of these guys were certainly expecting tonight.
Who would choose her? What amount of time would he want? How many clients were even left?
The music swelled, its erotic notes bearing the sensuality of Arabian nights. A spate of applause followed. The current bidding over, an evening or full day won by one very pleased man. Soon it would be her turn to take center stage, stripped and chained.
Tessa sucked her bottom lip.
Felicity stepped back and regarded Tessa’s mound.
She’d trimmed her delicate curls close so they were no more than a faint smudge on her creamy skin, revealing her rosy vaginal lips.
“Don’t move,” Felicity ordered again.
God. Tessa straightened considerably at the young woman applying the waterproof color to her labia. Like her, Felicity worked for the agency, though that was where their similarities ended.
Felicity was tall and willowy, except for her ample boobs. Her tawny complexion complemented her exceedingly sultry features. Whereas she was the poster girl for exotic, Tessa knew she was more the farmer’s daughter type. Pretty and wholesome.
Okay, maybe not so wholesome when it came to bed play, but definitely not in Felicity’s league. That girl was drop-dead gorgeous. Men fell to their knees with a mere toss of Felicity’s long chestnut hair.
A short time before, Tessa had styled it for her. Apparently determined to return the favor, Felicity continued to run the body makeup over Tessa’s slit.
Air hissed through her teeth. “Stop,” she breathed. “You’re making me wet.”
Felicity snickered. Leaning close, she whispered, “All the better for the dude who wins you.”
Maybe. “Who’s left?”
They moved to the far right and peeked through a gap in the delicate panels. The torches’ bobbing lights ate into the darkness, producing soft shadows. Swaying palm leaves and spray from numerous fountains provided a sensual scene enhanced by those ladies who’d already been auctioned. Some were chained to the columns next to their masters’ tables, arms above their heads, bodies flagrantly displayed, their skin moist with the heavy humidity. Others sat on plump pillows at their lords’ feet, using fans of iridescent peacock feathers to further stir the warmed air. Every lady conversed with the man who’d won her, that conversation producing smiles and gentle laughter, seemingly innocent except for all that naked flesh.
“Quite a few,” Felicity murmured, answering Tessa’s question.
She regarded the clients. Most had dressed casually in lightweight jackets and shirts opened at the collar, while the rest had on business wear—dark suits, white shirts, brightly colored silk ties—as though they’d just left important meetings.
All of them were breathtakingly wealthy. There was no other way they could have afforded this event and the evening or full day they’d bid on and won. A few of the men appeared in their thirties, the rest closer to middle age. They smoked cigars and sipped drinks, their attention
drifting from the lovely women surrounding them to Ronnie who stood at the podium, conducting tonight’s auction.
“Are you ready to continue?” Ronnie purred, her throaty voice filled with promise. “Or do you need a moment to calm down?”
The clients chuckled and applauded, indicating their desire for more.
Smiling, Ronnie ran her fingers over her signature string of pearls, jewelry she was never without. In her early sixties, she was nearly as beautiful as the call girl she’d once been, building her agency from nothing, with Washington DC’s rich and powerful her most frequent clients.
The moist summer breeze ruffled her dark hair, streaked now with a bit of silver. To the casual observer, Ronnie looked vibrant, healthy. Only those close to her knew the battle she’d waged and won against breast cancer. One of the reasons for tonight’s auction.
All of the proceeds, except for what the escorts earned, would go to cancer research and to the scholarship funds Ronnie had established for young women. To help them succeed so they didn’t have to make it on their own, clawing their way out of poverty as she had.
“Gentlemen,” she cooed into the microphone, “I give you…”
Tessa didn’t hear the rest as her attention stalled on a table near the back. The man sat in the muted shadows, the torch closest to him having gone out. From what Tessa could see he was tall, broad-shouldered, his form powerful and impressive.
He turned his face toward someone on the left who’d just bid ten thousand dollars. Tessa didn’t bother to look at the guy who’d offered so much money. She regarded this man’s strong profile. His firm jaw told her he was young, possibly early to mid-thirties.
She elbowed Felicity and pointed at the table. “Who’s that?”
Felicity craned her neck and squinted for a better look. Having been with the agency far longer than Tessa, she knew many of its clients.
“I can’t see him well enough to—wait.” Felicity paused, then breathed, “Oh wow.”
“Oh wow, what?” Was he a film star? A bad-boy rocker? Tessa’s pulse ticked up several notches. Even though he’d never choose her, being so close to someone the world adored was exciting.
“I think that’s Logan Kincaid,” Felicity said.
Tessa frowned. She thought back to the entertainment news she’d read recently, but the name still meant zip. “Was he one of your clients?” One Felicity had secretly fallen for, which had generated that ‘wow’?
“No,” the young woman answered. “As far as I know, he hasn’t been to our agency before. Of course, I haven’t met everyone who works there. He could have hooked up with one of the other girls who aren’t here tonight.”
“Then how do you know him?”
Felicity stopped straining to see and rubbed the side of her neck as though she’d pulled a muscle in it. “I read the papers, watch the news, just like you always do.”
That Tessa did. She was a news and information junkie. All locales—local, national, world. Whatever subject—politics, health, technology, finance, even sports. She enjoyed knowledge and devoured it all. Except, it seemed, for the stories about this man. He’d been in the news? When? Tessa shook her head. “I don’t remember any stories about a Logan Kincaid.”
“Happened about a year ago, maybe a little more than that. I can’t recall. Really awful. You were living in the District then.”
Tessa had been and still was. However, she hadn’t been with the agency at that time. She’d been associated with it in a peripheral way. Thinking back, she tried to remember something really awful that had happened in the news. With so many tragedies occurring at lightning speed, it wasn’t easy to isolate one incident. She kept repeating his name in her mind, hoping to spark a—
Her thoughts stalled, the pieces falling together all at once. “The fire,” she said. “The one who—”
“Yep,” Felicity interrupted. “He’s the one.”
“My god, I read that the neighbors tried to stop him and then the firefighters finally had to hold him back that night. Was he hurt badly?”
“I don’t remember.”
“The poor man.” Tessa regarded him again, sympathy welling in her. If that was really Logan Kincaid, he’d been through a hell no one should know. Was that why he was here tonight? Wanting nothing more than sexual relief, a woman to hold and comfort him, rather than the complication of a relationship that could turn so horribly wrong?
If so, Tessa couldn’t blame him, just as she hoped no one would judge her. She wasn’t doing this solely for the money, though that was a big consideration. Loneliness, the thrill of having a man hunger for her—because he truly found her desirable—had a hand in it too, along with meeting his need for a connection that went beyond mere physical contact.
Early on, Tessa had learned the truth about her clients, all titans of industry or powerful Washington insiders who put on an invulnerable act to the world. Deep down, they were imperfect men filled with uncertainty, the same as everyone else. They seemed relieved to be able to tell her of their doubts, their fears. At times, she knew they enjoyed that far more than their bed play. With her, unlike with the public and those closest to them, they could be truly real.
Over time, many of them had become her friends. Tessa wasn’t certain what all the other ladies did…if they kept their encounters impersonal and all about carnal pleasure, praising the men endlessly and not meaning a word of it. To her, it was so much simpler and far more rewarding to be with a man she’d grown to like, one whose armor she’d helped shed.
Felicity stepped away from the panels, pulling Tessa with her. Before Tessa could protest, Felicity murmured, “It’s your turn next.”
Tessa stared in the direction of the stage. Being alone with a man she’d talked with, a guy who was already on his way to liking and accepting her for who she was, which wasn’t perfect, was one thing. Fantasizing about how it might have been to be auctioned off for a sultan’s harem was another. However, standing alone on a stage, nude and vulnerable to criticism or indifference from a bunch of strangers, was something else entirely. She’d hoped to see at least one of her regulars here, but hadn’t.
Her wanton musings from earlier faded beneath the coming reality, which brought Tessa to another matter. A truly depressing thought. “When I’m out there, what if there aren’t any bids?”
What if no one wanted her enough to pay any price, no matter how small, which all of these men could easily afford?
Aw please, not that.
This was for a good cause, the slave auction scenario all make believe. No escort would have to do anything she didn’t want to do or was ever in any danger from an agency client. Ronnie screened the men too well. Still, Tessa figured no one had thought to ask if they’d reject any of the ladies during this auction. Even though the agency catered to all tastes, with some of the men preferring her type—curvy or Rubenesque depending upon who you talked to—what if no one like that was in this audience? “Has that ever happened before…not getting even one bid?”
“Quit worrying, you look great.”
Tessa looked as she always did, nowhere near slender enough for most guys, and hid her doubt with a joke. “Yeah, I know. But will Ronnie allow me to bid on myself?”
Felicity gave her a fierce hug, then drenched her with Ralph Lauren’s Romance, Tessa’s preferred fragrance.
“You’re beautiful,” Felicity said while Tessa was still batting at the perfumed mist and clearing her throat from the fumes. “Don’t ever forget that. When you’re out there, don’t worry about the bid.”
“How am I supposed to do that if there aren’t any?”
Felicity sighed as though she didn’t know what to say, then whispered, “Fantasize.”
“Okay. About looking like you? Being sought after? Adored?”
“About what this night is trying to represent.”
“A way to get money for various charities?”
“No. I meant the slave market thing. Get yourself into the mood. Imag
ine it’s way back when and you’re really in one of those places. Your ship was captured by pirates or something. You’re a prize among all the other women. An aristocrat from England, maybe a freaking princess, who’s now being purchased for the sultan’s harem. He’s dark and dangerous, pure male lust wrapped up in a body and face that won’t quit. Think of his first touch, his hands stripping you, then exploring your body with a right that no one—especially you—can take from him. Imagine the feel of his mouth on yours, his lips soft and warm compared to his beard-roughened cheeks, macho as all hell. His weight and heat trapping you, exciting you.”
Tessa wasn’t certain whether to pant or giggle. “Seriously?”
Felicity planted her hand on her hip. “You have a better idea?”
Nope. All Tessa could think about was how she’d felt in middle and high school when no one picked her for the soccer or softball teams. How the other kids had talked about her while she was present, as though she were an inanimate object without feelings. Making fun of how she looked, walked, ran, breathed. That had been beyond painful.
However, lunch periods were the worst when her friends had hooked up with their guys. They’d tried to include her in what they’d said, but the boys weren’t having it. They wanted to share furtive kisses and secrets with their girls. Even as Tessa’s body had ached with embarrassment, she’d tried to look interested in conversations that excluded her. What other choice did she have except to eat alone or with other people who didn’t want her in their groups?
She eyed the other escorts who strolled past, plainly at ease with their allure and the weird shoes all of them wore…made of wood with tall heels. Pattens, Ronnie had called them, what harem women had worn in days gone by. Probably because their master knew the shoes wouldn’t be easy to flee in.
“Try not to look so bummed,” Felicity advised. “Submissive, yes. Worried, no. Remember, we’re doing this for a good cause.”