Supernatural Seduction: 5 Paranormal Novellas

by Holley Trent

  “Oh, are you still here? I was just thinking I should clean my windows when I get home.”

  He laughed and ran his fingers along her softly rounded calf, smooth as the water lapping the beach. “Sure you were. I’m thinking the windows can wait ’til spring. Woman, you have incredible legs.”

  Getting comfortable beside her, he focused on his intent to melt her resistance — make her forget the game, forget the elf, forget everything but him. As he kissed her knee, he watched her eyelids dip in a lusty little look she’d given him when they’d met earlier in the week, a look he’d thought he’d misinterpreted. Yet there it was again.

  On the first day at the resort, he’d noticed her trying to get a wine list from a waiter who spoke little English. From the waiter’s smile, Jonathan suspected the guy was playing with her since she looked adorable acting out what she wanted. Who could resist? Not him. With Jonathan’s Spanish, it had been a pleasure coming to her aid, refreshing to discuss wines, and uncanny to learn they’d both taken introductory wine courses. He’d invited her back to his room to share a vintage port. His patio faced the sunset, so he’d envisioned a romantic evening, but she’d bolted before she’d tasted the wine or he’d tasted her.

  She wasn’t going anywhere now.

  He inched her skirt up slowly, let the fabric glide over her perfect thighs. Silky fabric she’d chosen for the sensual feel of it against her legs — women did that, he imagined. Damn, he’d never seen thighs as firm and flawless and sexy as hell. So smooth, so kissable. With little effort, he gave into the urge to have another taste of her now. He leaned down and nibbled the side of her knee, nipped at her skin lightly. Her feel, her taste, her scent invaded his head all at once.

  “Oh.” The one word drew out of her slowly like a soft moan. Her response was fire streaking through his veins. Her bonds only fed the flames. Her willingness to explore and take a risk was more of a turn on to him than he’d have guessed.

  “Do that again … but … ”

  “But?”

  Her breath eased out softly as he stroked her thigh with his fingertips. “But … you should do your sketch quickly, so we can finish the game.”

  “Sketch here? I’m not even halfway to my canvas. I’m going all the way up, baby. Did I mention I play to win?” Touching her gave him a sensual charge beyond anything he’d experienced.

  She made another sound and now he wasn’t sure if it was one of pleasure or annoyance, and he’d be damned not to know the difference.

  “I’ll need to spread your legs a little further apart, so I have a decent expanse for my artwork.” As he nudged her legs to expose more of that delectable thigh, he felt the tremble. Again. Nothing like a tremble to spur a man on.

  “Excited, sweetheart?”

  “Mmmm hmmm. This feeling of being able to do nothing but accept what you choose to do is driving me wild.” The rough sound of her voice was confirmation, but her admission surprised him.

  And made him grow hard in his pants. Ah, perhaps she was playing with him, the little minx.

  With a dip of his head, he brushed the inside of her thigh with his lips. “Tell me more. When you’re fantasizing about silk ties, are you naked first or do you prefer to have a man slowly strip and expose you?”

  “What makes you think it’s a man in my fantasy?”

  He gave her a little bite before lifting his head to show her his smile. “Ah, Isabelle, who would have thought? You want a woman’s touch, do you?”

  She looked at him with sauciness. Isabelle was full of surprises. “Yes, this experience lacks the intensity I’m accustomed to.”

  His laugh ripped through all the dark places on the beach.

  “Jonathan, picture this, another woman here with us, touching you, touching me. Imagine how it would feel. How it would electrify you, no?”

  “No, it wouldn’t. I only have eyes for you, sweetheart … and fingers and lips and soon one rock hard — ”

  “I wouldn’t have guessed you to be a one-woman man.” Her gaze wandered over his fingers tracing circles up her naked thigh.

  “Trying to distract yourself?”

  “Uh huh.”

  He leaned down, smiled against her skin, and waited until he was sure she saw his gaze on the dark shadow under her skirt at the apex of her thighs. “No more distractions, Isabelle. My only focus is you, your fantasy, your pleasure, your need and perhaps one more thing — finding out what color panties you’re wearing.” He flicked the top of her flouncy skirt clear back to her hips.

  That earned him a gasp.

  He gave an appreciative whistle and took a moment to enjoy the view. “Black, just as I suspected. Isabelle, you are lovely.” He’d seen a fair measure of panties in his day, yet for some reason Isabelle’s lace-edged pair was the sexiest. “I need to find the perfect spot for my sketch.”

  “Okay, let’s see what you’ve got when you play fair and stay within the parameters of your turn.”

  He chuckled. “That was subtle. I plan to play fair. While I paint, why don’t you expand on that fantasy of yours?”

  “I think I better not.”

  “Well then, what if I were to touch you right here … ” With the tips of his fingers, he traced a wave over the skin closest to her panty line. So incredibly smooth there. He needed to win. He needed to get to a phone. He needed to know if she was wet.

  The sexual electricity between them buzzed in the air. She gave a little groan. “Oh, just wait until it’s my turn.”

  To focus on nothing but her pleasure was acutely erotic. “Now that I’ve begun to explore the canvas, and by the way I’m not nearly finished, I see the perfect slope for a pic.” He leaned over to poke around in the game box and found a brush. With a quick stroke, he ran the brush tip over the back of his hand and held it up for Isabelle to see the streak of blue left by the brush. “Looks like it’s a brush and paint all in one. I bet it’s edible.”

  Her almond-shaped eyes softened. “Perhaps we should explore that after the game. The quicker you are, the sooner we’ll be free.”

  “I think I’m getting to you. Have you not heard slow and steady wins the race? I’ve got to take time to strategize here, Isabelle, determine how best to titillate you.”

  “I’ll give you a hint — good conversation.”

  “Thanks for that insight. I think I have a topic.” He held the brush over her mound, imagining her folds and slick heat. “Did you know the word clitoris came from the Greek word kleitoris, meaning divine and goddess like? Since your clitoris is designed solely for pleasure, for nothing other than to be stroked or massaged or licked to the point of divine bliss, I think it aptly named. What do you think? Did your nub of divine bliss perk up at the mention of stroke or massage or lick?”

  She stared at him open-mouthed with an ambiguous expression, either lust or bewilderment or maybe a bit of both. The woman had a great poker face. She closed her mouth and set her lips in a no-nonsense smile. “Did you really say nub of divine bliss?”

  He laughed at that. “Yes I did, baby. And you didn’t think I had a romantic side.”

  She gave a soft snort.

  He was beginning to wonder if his ploy to focus Isabelle on her clitoris didn’t arouse him more than her. Now he had images of soft feminine folds in his head. Nice to imagine on any other day. With the brush, he painted a square on Isabelle’s inner thigh.

  She glanced down to see what he’d painted. “That is what you most desire — a box?” She’d said it slowly with a throaty inflection on the word desire.

  “It’s not finished.” He put a small rectangle in the square and paused. “I wonder what you look like under these panties.” With the tip of his finger, he traced a figure eight where he imagined curls of indigo hair.

  His cock hardened in anticipation.

  “I w
onder … are the outer lips on your right side more sensitive than the left?” With just a touch more pressure, he ran his finger along the slight bulge of her outer labia, then along the opposite side to stimulate the sensitive skin. Who cared about the sketch? He wanted to know the sweet taste of her.

  He glanced at her face and saw more than a hint of arousal before she quickly masked it. “Oh,” she said weakly. “I wonder if the buffet will have that fresh watermelon juice in the morning? Don’t you just love the fresh fruit juices served with breakfast?”

  “I do love juice.” He smiled and continued to stroke her, nearing her nub of divine bliss, but not touching, not yet, not until she began to ache for his touch. “And it must be kismet, because I was thinking about juices, too.” He pulled the fabric of her panties taut against her folds, so her contours were clear, her nub plumping and hardening. “I think what you meant to say was don’t stop.” Her breathing drew out long and deep when he spread his fingers like a V around the base of her nub and massaged gently pulling back and forth as he added a few strokes to his painting. “I didn’t know art could be so much fun.”

  His heart pounded like he was racing his first marathon. His cock throbbed from images of her spread naked. Could he resist the urge to rip off her panties and plunge as deep as he could go?

  He had to touch her. With his thumb, he stroked the side of her nub, light strokes for now, then he circled around to the other side and then over the top.

  Once, twice and then again.

  Her moan pulsed through his balls.

  “It had to be done, sweetheart.”

  The look in her eyes moved him. A perfectly competent woman in every respect, yet a hint of fragility flickered in her eyes. What did Isabelle fear? A protective need rose in him. Again, he wanted to be the man who made her feel safe, safe enough to reveal her apprehensions. With his most tender touch, he kissed his sketch. “Mmmm, blueberry. I can’t wait till my next turn.”

  Chapter Six

  Grab him by the shirt collar and take that gorgeous head of his and put it back between your thighs. Offer yourself up to his paintbrush, his fingers, his mouth, his tongue …

  Isabelle’s thoughts were a runaway train on a track to an unknown destination. Her heartbeat pounded in her ears.

  The eerie immobilization was good cause to feel a loss of control, but instead of feeling compromised, she felt excitement like she’d never felt before. It thrummed through her belly in a delicious clench. She didn’t want his turn to end, she didn’t want to resist. She wanted to lie back on the pillows and mewl like a minx while he practiced his brushstrokes.

  It was the look on his face as he’d touched her, a look she’d not seen before in past lovers. They’d been focused on their own climax, not hers. She’d felt Jonathan’s concentration. He’d been fully engaged in pleasing her, and while that could be nothing more than his dedication to the game, she couldn’t deny he’d not only aroused her once again, but she wanted more of Jonathan Raynor.

  The man was more tempting than the toffee cheesecake at her corner coffee shop, the one she could never resist, the one with the thin layer of crunchy caramel on top. If she saw it, she wanted it. Her only defense was to avoid the shop.

  At least the Jonathan temptation ended here. She would never run into him at the corner coffee shop.

  “Isabelle, my turn’s finished. Can you not move?”

  Why would I want to move? I need this. Touch me like that again. Slowly, she lifted her hands, palms up, to show him. “Yes, I can. I was just thinking about … ”

  “You liked it.”

  She hesitated, breathing out the lust that was fully awake now.

  “Do you want more?”

  She did, but the admission stayed on her tongue. Not yet, not until she’d had a turn to tantalize him. As she moved to pull down her skirt, the object he’d sketched on her thigh drew her attention. “The thing you most desire is a house?”

  He scooped up the die and dropped it in her hand. “Yes, and the reason I need to get back to the resort. A Tudor Revival has just listed that I plan to buy. Actually, it was my grandparents’ house fifteen years ago. I didn’t expect it to come on the market. I can’t let that house go to someone else.”

  Their commonalities were uncanny. “No, I understand completely. You must have fond memories. I bought a Tudor Revival two years ago. My house is the love of my life.” Pathetic but true. When her last three relationships failed, she’d thrown herself into a renovation. The work had been the impetus to her self-restoration. “Why don’t you tell me all about your Tudor?” She took a few deep breaths.

  “There’s nothing to tell. It’s not mine yet. I have something more enticing on my mind at the moment. Let’s play.”

  Enticing, yes. She threw the die. “Damn, a two.”

  “Maybe a slow crawl to the finish isn’t such a bad idea — prolong the sweet ecstasy.”

  “Sweet ecstasy needs to get on a plane and go home.” As she moved her piece two squares, an image began to appear. She felt the instant thrum of desire as the next body part was revealed. Jonathan’s butt.

  He snickered. “Love it when a beautiful woman kisses my butt.”

  “I bet you do.” Odd that she didn’t feel awkward with Jonathan any longer. She wondered what he looked like in the buff.

  The sound of running water interrupted her fantasy. “Do you hear water?”

  “All the time. Comes with the territory. Tide is coming in.”

  She rolled her eyes. “I didn’t mean the ocean. It’s something else. Listen.”

  Jonathan cocked his head and ran his thumb over his wrist. “I’m not thinking about the ocean. My mind is on the next kiss.”

  “Oh, never mind.” She better kiss while his mind was in her court. “Stand up, let me get a good look at you.”

  No resistance there. After he stood, he tucked a thumb into his waistband. “So how do you want to do this? Should I strip for you?”

  She was still wet from his last turn. A little pulse shot through her “nub of divine bliss” at the memory. The man was beyond corny — not that she minded — but if that gorgeous guy did a shameless strip tease then she’d be a lost cause. It was time to arouse him.

  “No, I have something else in mind.”

  He leaned forward, his head tilted at just the right angle for him to raise his gaze under those dark eyebrows and flash her a look surely designed to melt the clothes off a woman. She dropped her gaze. His shirt had caught on the drawstring of his shorts, revealing a triangle of skin above his waistband, skin that was beginning to look like decadent dessert. Then he locked his hands together and raised them above his head for a stretch. She licked her bottom lip.

  “I’m all yours, baby, do with me what you will.”

  Her turn. Now, the sense of control worked to unbutton the brazen woman inside her. The game had become less an annoyance and more a game she wanted to play. She inhaled deeply and rose to a stand.

  Stay cool. Arouse him.

  She circled him, pausing to study the contours of what she knew to be one nicely rounded butt, but his black shorts in the black night obscured the view. So she did what any woman would do in those circumstances. She reached out and ran her hand slowly up the back of his thigh. Her lips touched his ear as she spoke with a throaty voice. “I have to find my way by touch since it’s so dark.”

  He groaned his reply. How sensitive were those thighs? With a decision to play this game as dirty as he had, she took a step closer, came up tight behind him, and felt the heat of his body. Lifting his shirt, she ran her fingertip across his back just above his waistband. She leaned in and breathed deep. “Mmmmm. Nice.”

  No encouragement left his lips. She let her fingers roam over the curve of his bum and gave him a little squeeze. He remained as still as he’d ever been she
imagined. She slipped her fingers in under his waistband.

  He gave a low groan.

  Nothing like touching the skin under a man’s pants to get his attention.

  “A little excited?” she asked.

  He snickered. “I was just thinking I need to schedule an appointment to have my teeth cleaned when I get home.”

  “Oh you were, huh? You really shouldn’t let your competitive nature spoil your fun. We’ll have to find a way to distract you from those thoughts. These shorts are coming off.” She felt her way around his waist and tugged the drawstring to loosen his shorts. Before she returned to his rear, she couldn’t resist brushing her hand over his bulge. Shoot, not as aroused as she thought. Had she ever been good at seducing a man?

  She heard him grind his teeth before he uttered, “Now that’s not fair.”

  “Not fair? You set the standard, Jonathan. All’s fair in the quest for your arousal and for me to find out what color your undies are.”

  She slid both hands down inside his shorts and over his perfect cheeks, popping out her wrists to slide the shorts off his hips to drop at his feet. “A boxer man. Oh my, are these silk?”

  No surprise he had great contours even in the shadows of a slivered moon. She stood behind him wishing for both disinterest and daylight. “I think it’s best I give you a thorough look-over to keep your mind off that teeth cleaning.”

  “I’m beginning to suspect you may have a talent for dentistry.”

  That gave her an idea. She’d once heard a radio show on how role play could enhance the sexual experience.

  “Not dentistry, Mr. Raynor. We practice an innovative branch of health care here at my beach clinic.”

  She kneaded his bum cheeks while she talked. His firm male flesh warmed under the boxers. From the warmth building between her thighs, it appeared they were both generating heat. “I should tell you all good patients receive a reward. So let’s get started with your treatment, shall we. Lie face down on the blanket there, please.”