by Lyric James
A picture of Jordan shifting.
A written confession.
Something.
If she refused his offer, she had nothing. Plus he probably would make good on his threat to call the police and have her arrested.
She did not want to spend a night in jail. She was all for that first amendment rights stuff but jail, no way.
But if she stayed, spent the night with him…then quite possibly she could find evidence somewhere in this huge house of what he was and have it to take to her boss along with her story.
And Layla had to admit it, she wanted him. Her body was responding to every touch, every caress of his fingers.
This wasn’t like her. She didn’t meet a man and, because he was cute and happened to have a sexy body, want to immediately jump his bones. But she did.
“Yes, I want the story but…”
“But you don’t want me.”
Her mouth opened and closed. He was right up against her, no doubt feeling how much she wanted him. She couldn’t tell that lie.
Deftly, he reached up and tugged the black band from around her ponytail. Surprise sifted through her as his strong fingers briefly massaged her scalp before her hair tumbled around her shoulders.
She sighed. She simply couldn’t help it.
He grabbed her shoulder-length hair, moved it aside and after lowering his head, brushed his nose over her neck.
“I smelled you before I even saw you, you know. That’s how I knew you were here.”
His cool, spicy breath fanned across her cheek as he tugged her earlobe between his teeth. A moan of lust, so deep and primal inside her, escaped.
How in the hell could she say no to this?
He stepped back and Layla felt herself leaning into him before she stopped the forward motion.
Damn it. She was like a dog in heat.
Jordan turned and walked to the bathroom. Almost immediately, she felt bereft, alone and needy.
What the hell was wrong with her?
When he stepped over the threshold into the lush room, he turned and dropped his robe. She could almost feel her eyes boggle out of her head.
God, he was magnificent. Everything about him spoke of extreme self-assuredness, natural poise. He was thick and long and she watched, astonished, as he became blatantly and magnificently aroused. She had to force her gaze up to his face.
“As soon as I landed, all I wanted was a shower and a beer. I’m about to take that shower. Since you broke into my home, the beer will have to come later. Decide what you want, Ms. Martin. Join me for…” He looked at the clock on the opposite nightstand from where she was standing. It read a little bit after eleven o’clock. “Oh, around eight hours in my bed and I’ll let you leave with your story.”
He disappeared into the room and she heard the jets shoot on inside the glass-enclosed shower before he reappeared back at the door.
“If your answer is no then I’ll be calling the police as soon as I get out of the shower.” He stopped, she assumed to let her mull that over. “And don’t think about leaving before I get out,” he said, with an edge of steel underlying a voice as smooth as brandy, as he pointed to the door to his room. “I turned on the alarm. If you walk out a door, try to slip out a window, attempt to leave by the laundry chute, the police will be here within two minutes.”
Even though Layla’s mouth fell open, she couldn’t help but admire his very round, tanned butt cheeks as he vanished once again inside the bathroom.
She stood there, transfixed. “Well, Layla, what’s it going to be? One night in Jordan Gaines’ bed plus the story that will make your career, or a night in jail? Hmph. That’s a no-brainer.”
She could have walked out and taken her chances with the police. But this was one of the most affluent neighborhoods in Bel Air, which meant the police would probably be here before she made it out the door. However, she had a feeling she’d just been issued a challenge and challenges were meant to be met, head on, by a formidable opponent.
Layla hadn’t gotten where she was in this business by being a wimp. This was Jordan Gaines after all. She needed this story. Plus, the man exuded sex appeal. Hadn’t she told herself she would love to find out what all the fuss was about?
There had to be a reason women flocked to him. Money was one thing but sex… If he was as talented in the bedroom as he was in the boardroom, she’d understand why the women didn’t kiss and tell. Because they wanted Jordan Gaines all to themselves.
Now she could find out, and the bonus—she would get the story that would make her career.
She tugged her knitted black shirt out of her pants and after a slight hesitation pulled it up and over her head. She kicked out of her black tennis shoes without untying the strings and unbuttoned her pants. She couldn’t believe she was actually going to do this, couldn’t believe she was actually here.
But she was.
She left her clothes where they lay and once she rounded the corner to the shower, she stopped and watched him, his head tilted back as water cascaded down his soapy body.
The white bubbles left a delicious trail over his dusk-colored nipples and over the indentations of his gorgeous abs.
Layla wanted to slide each finger over his chest inch by inch until she reached his dick, squeezed and placed him in her mouth.
Oh yeah, she was definitely going to enjoy this.
Slowly, she edged forward and pulled open the door. For a split second, she saw him still then continue washing his hair. The water came from everywhere. She’d seen pictures of water closets with jets like this, hitting you from every direction and all angles, and always wondered what it would be like to take a bath in something so luxurious.
Now she’d get a chance to find out.
With a tentative touch, she pressed her palm in the middle of his back and inched it down slowly, enjoying the feel of his skin beneath her fingertips, the muscles, the indentations. There was a thin, five-inch scar just below his right deltoid muscle that she traced with her middle finger. Other than that one mark, his skin was perfection.
Steam billowed up in the space as hot, almost boiling water exactly the way she liked it hit every inch of her body. The soap from his hair crept over her fingers as she began to rub her hands down the middle of his spine, moving from his upper back to his lower and stopping above the perfect ass she’d admired earlier.
After a moan, he turned around and her gaze swung up to meet his. It was intense and dark and his eyes glittered with desire as his dick rubbed over her stomach.
Layla gulped.
His eyes never left hers as he grabbed a white sponge, one of two hanging from a small clip on the wall, and began to lather it with soap. “Your turn.”
He turned her around and began to bathe her, moving down her back, over her shoulders, down her arms, never saying a word. She didn’t think she’d ever been treated with this much care by a man. She arched her back, hoping to draw his ministrations closer to her pussy. The rasp of the scrub over her skin made her already rapid heart thump faster.
When he made it to her ass, he went slower, almost massaging each cheek before kneeling and moving down her legs to her ankles. Her nipples stiffened as his breath tickled over her calf muscles.
He tapped her foot. “Spread your legs.” His voice was brusque, deep and each word he spoke sent a wave of delight up her spine.
Layla moved her legs apart and placed both her palms against the glass to balance herself. She smiled, thinking she’d never watch another cop show again and, as a suspect got frisked, not think of this exact moment.
Jordan rubbed the sponge up her inner calf to inside her thigh and then danced it over her pussy, rubbing softly. She moaned. This was getting better and better. Pleasure unfurled through her core and made her cry out.
“Turn around.”
When she did, he moved her so her back was flat against the wall. He continued to wash her slowly, almost reverently. At one point, the tips of his fingers grazed ove
r her mound. She guessed he was admiring the intricate V-shaped haircut she’d given herself a few nights ago.
“Do you like it?” she asked.
“Oh yes,” he murmured as he flicked out with his tongue and licked her, causing her head to fall back against the glass with a soft thud. “Exactly like wild cherries.”
She didn’t think he meant the haircut. The pleasure of his tongue against her clit surged over her and she ached to be filled with so much more.
After a few more swipes, he stopped, which caused her to groan for an entirely different reason. “Don’t stop.”
He chuckled against her. “First things first.” He rubbed over her clit again with his finger. “Let’s get you all cleaned up.” Jordan stood and looked at her. “After that, you’ll be begging me to quit.”
Not likely, she thought.
Layla looked down at herself as he used the sponge to spread soap over her neck, up, under and over her arms, down to her wrists. He cleaned her achingly swollen breasts and her stomach.
He stood back and let the water run the soap off her skin before he repeated the entire process all over again, which almost made her scream.
Well, at least she knew the man was a clean freak but boy was she ready for him to be inside her. The mini-torture of this bath was becoming an experience in teasing and pleasure. And she knew from the evidence of his arousal that Jordan was as ready for her as she was for him. But for some reason, he was prolonging their mutual satisfaction.
As she came to the decision to snatch the sponge away from him and jump his bones, he took her hands, raised them above her head and captured her bottom lip between his teeth.
God it was delicious, intoxicating. It was a long, lingering lick that robbed her of breath. While he made sweeping, swirling motions all around her lips, he cupped one breast and slid a thumb over her nipple until it was a turgid bud.
He bit lightly at her bottom rim, licked it then slid down to the hollow of her neck. “I can feel how much you want me, right here.”
All Layla could do was open to him helplessly as his lips and tongue gave her an unadulterated lesson in lovemaking. She heard a keening noise and realized dimly that it was coming from her own throat. Her body shook and she clenched Jordan’s arms.
He touched the pulse in her throat. “Every thought, every shudder, all I have to do is touch you right here and I’ll know.”
Dizziness swarmed inside her head before Layla took control of the explicit exploration and pushed him lower. She may have been partially blackmailed into this little sex game with Jordan Gaines but she was determined to give as good as she got.
He was used to controlling everything and everyone around him but Layla wouldn’t allow him to totally dominate what was happening between them tonight. Even if she never saw him again and only got to admire him from the floor-to-ceiling windows in her office for the rest of her life, she would make sure he remembered her.
Layla shoved her arms between them and eased her palms around his penis, sliding her fingers around his thick hardness. Water continued to beat at them, warm and wet, making her handle on him slightly slippery. But she didn’t let it hinder her from the lustful passion she was almost ashamed to admit she felt for him even under these circumstances. Her body hummed with sensation as his lips, so absorbed in tantalizing her breasts, drove her insane. He pulled his mouth from her and she cried out.
Against her throat he whispered, “Don’t worry. I’m not done yet.”
He took her thighs and lifted her up as if she weighed nothing, twisted around and carried her to the seat situated against the opposite wall and set her down. After lowering himself to the shower floor, he pulled her to him until she hovered over the edge, legs spread.
Her breath caught at the sight of him kneeling before her. He lifted his head and she shivered at the heat in his eyes. Arousal had turned his chiseled features even harder—no, majestic like the regal phoenix he shifted into.
He gently stroked her clit, his thumb moving in slow circles. With a glint in his eye, he took one foot and applied light, delicate kisses from her ankle up to her knees before repeating the act with the other side.
Layla slid her fingers through his wet hair and pulled. “Now.”
He obliged her by leaning into the V of her legs and before she could smile, she felt the strong sweep of his tongue against her folds and gasped as he tugged the bud between his teeth.
Jordan cupped her legs and suckled strongly on the slick, wet heat of her, and the sensation was so intense it was like a white-hot streak of lightning.
Layla looked down and found herself even more aroused by the contrast of his white skin between her dark legs. Her head fell back as he moved over her, tugging and pulling and licking, causing delicious heat to begin a slow burn inside her. She heard the soft pounding of water against the beautiful bronze tile, her soft pants and the erotic slurping of his mouth.
Then she felt a large, blunt finger circling inside her flesh, stroking the folds. She heard satisfaction in his harsh groan when it entered her and her hips arched to take more of him. She’d never been touched this way before, her body had never felt such intense longing.
“That’s it. Open for me. Bloom for me,” his deep voice crooned before continuing his delicious torture.
Between his tongue and his finger, she was on fire. He moved it deeper and deeper still while his tongue circled her clitoris. He slowly withdrew the digit and slipped a second one in beside it.
She cried out as she pointed her toes and her thighs trembled. It was almost too much. Each swipe of his tongue and flip of his finger made her moan even deeper with desire. Every nerve in her body began to flicker. It didn’t take long for Layla to see that what Jordan did to her could be dangerous to her soul.
“God, you taste so sweet, so hot. Cherries,” he murmured and thrust his fingers hard, and she writhed with the need to release, her entire body trembling. “Come. Now,” he ordered.
Jordan circled her clit again, hard with his tongue, and probed deeply with his fingers, and she did. A turbulent sensation washed over her, shredding her body in a million pieces, allowing her to feel each sliver cut straight to her core.
She clenched her thighs helplessly around his head as his mouth ground against her. Her fingers found the top of his head again and gripped hard as he continued stroking, harder and harder as she climaxed. He’d known how to touch her, how hard and how soft to keep her on the edge, in helpless spasms of pleasure so blinding, so erotic it had been almost painful.
Layla never lost control this way, hadn’t known it was possible. It was exhilarating and frightening all at the same time. Her body shook with the intensity of her release. Eyes closed, she rested her head on the shower wall, still feeling the aftershocks of her orgasm in her lower body.
Jordan moved away from her to turn off the jets and within mere seconds lifted her up, covered her in a plush towel and carried her out of the stall, placing her on the light-mocha granite counter.
“I’m not done yet, love,” he whispered against her throat.
Her eyes flew open as he plunged inside her, this time with the hard pulse of his arousal. He embedded himself deeply, over and over, entering her with one driving thrust after the next. Layla had known he would fill her completely.
She arched to meet each powerful thrust and brought her knees up to his hips, gripping him. Their bodies bucked and collided in perfect unison. She clenched and shuddered as he delved deep. He stretched her and she could feel the tip of him pressing against her womb.
The sensation was beyond description, unbelievably passionate. When she looked up, she spied a reflection of them in a floor-to-ceiling mirror across the room and almost didn’t recognize herself, lips puffy with arousal, eyes lost in rapture. He’d already taken her to the edges of ecstasy and she couldn’t believe she was reaching that peak again as he drove faster and faster and continued a pounding, driving rhythm beyond anything she’d experienced befor
e.
His fingers moved sharply over her clit and Layla cried out. She’d never felt this. Ever. How could he, a stranger, bring her to this state of responsiveness when no one ever had? Desire thrummed through her, sent shivers up her spine and sank into the deepest crevices of her sensitized flesh. Her body fragmented into a torrent of heat and rapture.
The orgasm was so piercingly strong she thought she would pass out. She clenched her legs around him as he kept thundering inside her throughout the uncontrollable, shuddering contractions, harder and harder until he too stiffened and yelled out, pouring himself into her.
Their labored breathing was loud inside the small, silent room. Jordan slowly straightened, eyes meeting hers, and pulled out of her little by little.
What in the heck happened? Her muscles felt like water. Her legs were quivering and her heart beat like a drum.
She had to get away from him for a few minutes. “Um…can I shower again? If you don’t mind.”
One side of his mouth quirked up and he walked to the shower stall, opened the door and turned the water back on. She watched as the steam from the hot water billowed back up. Next to the toilet, he threw away the condom she hadn’t even realized he’d put on.
When she stepped into the shower, she didn’t know if she could take another round so soon but instead of entering with her, thank goodness, he allowed the door to close behind her.
She felt as if her heart and soul had left her body and then come back, transformed. She was dumbfounded by her reaction to him, her body’s reaction to him. It had never happened before. Never in her sexual history had a man consumed her, brought her to such mind-numbing pleasure.
What did that mean?
After she stepped out again and toweled dry, she reentered the bedroom to find one lamp turned on and Jordan, dressed in the pajama bottoms he’d grabbed earlier, sitting quietly on the bed with his back against the headboard, his legs crossed at the ankles. His thick auburn hair was still wet from their bath, his blue eyes half shuttered in sleep.
But somehow she knew he wasn’t, that he was very aware of her and every move she made. He’d turned on the television set deeply inside a wall she hadn’t even noticed but the volume was down really low.