Sinful Desire Read online

  For instance, the time she’d asked him to pull her hair and talk dirty to her, resulted in him calling her a hot bitch a he tugged gently on her strands. He broke into peals of laughter, clutching his belly as he said, “I’m sorry. I just can’t say things like I want you on your hands and knees now, woman.”

  That was where she wanted to be, though.

  And that was where he wanted to be, too, because he’d inquired casually one evening over their second pinot noir if she might want to try pegging. They could even go shopping right then, he’d suggested.

  Her eyebrows had shot into her hairline as she’d uttered a resounding never.

  A few weeks later, he’d wanted to know if she’d be willing to have a threesome with another guy.

  “Would I be the sandwich filling?” she asked.

  He shook his head and tapped his chest. He would be the middle man.

  Yup. Her ex-husband went both ways, and when he went, he submitted. Which meant they didn’t, and wouldn’t, and couldn’t ever gel. There was simply no room for two submissives in a marriage.

  But was that the right word for her? She didn’t really know if the term fit her since she’d never been in that type of relationship. Her experience was limited to Holden and to a college boyfriend who’d been rather “fratty” in bed.

  Still, she knew what turned her on. She knew what she fantasized about.

  Being dominated. Being taken. Being tied up. Even if she’d never fully experienced that type of lover, she was sure of what made her blood heat up and her body spark. Fantasies tripped through her mind late at night in bed, alone, and they often involved being pinned.

  Bound.

  Tied.

  After struggling to make it work between the sheets, she and Holden had both agreed they’d be better off friends than lovers. The transition away from him wasn’t wholly easy, and there had been times when she’d felt unsure of herself and her femininity. But she and Holden made a pact to stay the close friends they had always been.

  A talented pianist, Holden had both toured the world and played piano in recording sessions for commercials and jingles, and would be joining the symphony at the concert she’d arranged in two weeks to raise money for the community center. “Do you think Clyde will try to marry you off again at the concert?” Holden asked.

  Sophie wrapped her fingers around the edge of the piano. “He’s bringing a boy-child to the event. I have no doubt he wants to pawn me off on his lawyer grandson, and he thinks if he can just get us in the same room that we’ll fall madly in love.”

  Holden shuddered dramatically. “Being the glamorous divorcée,” he said, stopping to sketch air quotes as he used the moniker that a Vegas high-society blog had bestowed on her, “isn’t all it’s cracked up to be, is it?”

  She swatted his shoulder. “You’re a glamorous divorcé, too.”

  “Oh yeah. They’re lining up in droves for a piece of me,” he said with a wink.

  Piece of me. Her mind flashed back to a few nights ago at Aria, and to the commanding way Ryan Whoever He Was had controlled her pleasure backstage. A frisson of longing raced through her. She craved his touch again.

  “Hello? Did you just drift off to la-la land?” Holden asked, waving his hand in front of her.

  She blinked, and grinned, caught in the act of remembering a hot encounter. “I did. Because I met someone the other night, and we had a fantastic time.”

  Holden patted the piano bench. “Sit. Tell me everything.”

  Sophie sat on the bench and recounted the details. Not all of them. Not the particularly naughty ones. But the tidbits about how they met, and how he showed up at the gala, and how she barely knew anything about him.

  “Which I like,” she added. Perhaps she liked it so much because it was the opposite of her experience. She’d known everything about Holden, she’d gone in with her eyes wide open, and they hadn’t worked out.

  She knew virtually nothing of Ryan. Maybe the change was what she needed. To go into this thing blindfolded.

  Wait. Add that to the list of things she wanted to try. Blindfold.

  “Be careful,” Holden said in warning. “He could be anyone.”

  “That’s why it’s fun.”

  “That’s also why it’s dangerous.”

  She nodded. “I know. I like danger.”

  “I just don’t want to see you get hurt,” he said, patting her knee.

  “It’s only fun and games. I’m not interested in anything more. In fact, I hope I never learn his last name,” she said as she crossed her legs and kicked a foot back and forth, demonstrating how completely content she’d be in that scenario.

  Even though, truth be told, she was terribly curious about the man behind the orgasm.

  Chapter Seven

  So many sartorial choices.

  On the one hand, this sun-yellow dress hugged her hips quite nicely.

  On the other hand, the red one with the tiny white polka dots did offer a nice little cleavage peek-a-boo.

  As Sophie tapped her finger against her lips, weighing the options for tonight in her perfectly organized, neatly arranged, color-coordinated closet, her phone buzzed from the back pocket of her capris. She was at home, so jeans were acceptable.

  She grabbed it and spotted an envelope icon popping up at the top of the screen. Probably nothing that needed her attention now, midday Sunday, especially, since she had a whole sea of clothes to consider in the middle of her walk-in closet, which was something of a sanctuary in her home.

  Because…walk-in closet.

  Complete with carpeting and ample shelves for shoes.

  Enough said.

  Absently, she ran her thumb across the screen, noticing the time as she scrolled. Seven more hours until her date. Four hundred and twenty minutes. Twenty-five thousand and two hundred seconds.

  Whoa.

  Was that her date’s name in her email?

  Perhaps this email warranted her undivided attention after all. As she opened it, her belly flipped, her body lighting up simply from the intoxicating memory of his backstage skills.

  from: [email protected]

  to: [email protected]

  date: July 14, 11:58 AM

  subject: Question

  Are you afraid of heights?

  A grin spread quickly across her face. She hadn’t expected to hear from him until she saw him this evening. He must have found her email address on her Facebook profile. She liked that he’d been hunting for her. She liked it a lot.

  from: [email protected]

  to: [email protected]

  date: July 14, 12:01 PM

  subject: Lovely to hear from you too…

  No. Should I be? Are you, say, taking me to the moon?

  from: [email protected]

  to: [email protected]

  date: July 14, 12:08 PM

  subject: I couldn’t wait ’til tonight…

  I will indeed be taking you on that kind of a trip.

  from: [email protected]

  to: [email protected]

  date: July 14, 12:10 PM

  subject: Glad to hear you’re counting down the hours…

  How can you be so confident?

  from: [email protected]

  to: [email protected]

  date: July 14, 12:14 PM

  subject: Six hours, forty-six minutes

  Because I’ve already taken you there.

  from: [email protected]

  to: [email protected]

  date: July 14, 12:19 PM

  subject: Wait. I know what you have in mind.

  Admit it. We’re going for a hot air balloon ride over the Strip, right?

  from: [email protected]

  to: [email protected]

  date: July 14, 12:21 PM

  subject: Nice guess, but…

  Or maybe I plan to take you on the rollercoaster at
New York, New York.

  from: [email protected]

  to: [email protected]

  date: July 14, 12:25 PM

  subject: Flaw in that plan

  Then why are we meeting at Caesar’s?

  from: [email protected]

  to: [email protected]

  date: July 14, 12:31 PM

  subject: The plan for tonight is perfect.

  To throw you off the scent of my plan. Because I suspect you like surprises. And rollercoasters, too.

  from: [email protected]

  to: [email protected]

  date: July 14, 12:32 PM

  subject: I like the best laid plans…pun intended

  So now we’re going for a rollercoaster ride. Excellent. I’m clapping with glee.

  Incidentally, I’m quite loud on rollercoasters.

  * * *

  Good thing he was alone in his office.

  The subject line made him groan.

  The prospect of hearing her orgasmic cries of pleasure at full volume had his dick knocking against his fly. Closing his eyes briefly, he imagined the sounds she might make, the cries and moans and gasps he’d elicit from her. She’d be sweet music to his ears.

  Now, he was hard as steel. Fucking great.

  He was tempted to take matters into his own hand. But he was a thirty-two-year-old man, not a teenage boy ready to jack off to the slightest provocation from his computer screen. Ryan was patient and controlled, and as much as he wanted to experience those best laid plans he didn’t intend for that to happen tonight. Not for lack of desire. But because anticipation was the most powerful kind of foreplay. Waiting, teasing, and wanting made the doing better.

  It made the fucking practically divine.

  He’d only intended to send one note to make sure she could handle heights. But that one note had turned into a volley that made him even more eager to see her. Each appearance of her name in his email inbox turned him on. As he finished up some work, they continued to ping-pong over cyberspace.

  from: [email protected]

  to: [email protected]

  date: July 14, 12:35 PM

  subject: If your intention was hardness, well done.

  I have not yet had the pleasure of hearing the highs you can hit vocally. You came quietly the other night.

  from: [email protected]

  to: [email protected]

  date: July 14, 12:38 PM

  subject: That’s how I like it.

  And is that something you wish to know? My vocal range? Rather than my silent cries of pleasure?

  from: [email protected]

  to: [email protected]

  date: July 14, 12:41 PM

  subject: High C, I’m betting

  It’s not just something I wish to know. It’s something I intend to discover tonight.

  from: [email protected]

  to: [email protected]

  date: July 14, 12:44 PM

  subject: Bet on several full octaves

  I suppose it is in your hands then to find out how high I go.

  from: [email protected]

  to: [email protected]

  date: July 14, 12:49 AM

  subject: My ears are eager now

  Hands, maybe. Could be other parts of the anatomy.

  from: [email protected]

  to: [email protected]

  date: July 14, 12:51 PM

  subject: And other parts are more eager?

  Now, Ryan, I don’t know that we’re going there just yet. I might want you to work more for that.

  from: [email protected]

  to: [email protected]

  date: July 14, 12:52 AM

  subject: Eager and at attention

  Going where, Sophie? Where are we not going? Can you spell it out?

  from: [email protected]

  to: [email protected]

  date: July 14, 12:54 PM

  subject: B-E-L-O-W-T-H-E-B-E-L-T

  That. Part. The one I felt pressed against me, hard as a rock.

  * * *

  Sophie had moved to her comfy, king-size bed, a book in one hand, the phone in the other, ready for the zing that ripped through her body with each note from Ryan. As she peeked at her inbox periodically, in between reading a biography of Mick Jagger, gooseflesh rose on her skin from the excitement of the back and forth. Ah, to flirt like this. Everything inside her tingled, as if she’d just drunk champagne and had become as effervescent as the drink.

  Another note appeared, and she set down Mick’s story, flipped to her belly, kicked her feet in the air, and continued the email foreplay.

  from: [email protected]

  to: [email protected]

  date: July 14, 12:58 PM

  subject: T-O-N-G-U-E-S?

  Or maybe we will be going to places that make you sing like you’re high up at the top of the rollercoaster. Perhaps, I should amend my plans for tonight and take you on that rollercoaster ride after all.

  On second thought, I’m just going to keep the plans to myself and surprise you.

  from: [email protected]

  to: [email protected]

  date: July 14, 1:01 PM

  subject: Like I’m going in blindfolded

  I like rides.

  from: [email protected]

  to: [email protected]

  date: July 14, 1:06 PM

  subject: My favorite accessory

  Speaking of fashion, wear a skirt tonight.

  She laughed out loud at the last email. As if she’d wear anything but a skirt. She was about to reply with something saucy when another note dropped into her inbox.

  from: [email protected]

  to: [email protected]

  date: July 14, 1:07 PM

  subject: Name, rank and serial number

  On a more serious note, it’s not right for me to know your name and occupation and you to not know the same. Not in this day and age. So, here’s me.

  Sophie hovered her index finger over the link at the end of the note.

  The game had been fun, almost like a masquerade ball. Now, he had changed the game and removed his mask. Asking her if she wanted to look.

  How could she not?

  Sophie was a cat in front of an open box. The cat had no choice but to slink inside, and explore its contents. That man had sparked her mind and ignited her body, and hell, it was natural to want to know more about him. So from the cozy cocoon of gold and cranberry-red pillows on her bed, she clicked on the link to his company.

  Sloan Protection Resources.

  The web site had a rugged, sturdy and masculine look with black and gray colors and imposing fonts. Completely fitting with what it was selling—armed private security, event security, bodyguards, guard dogs, and more. The “mission” on the home page read: “We provide secure solutions to a wide range of individuals, corporations, non-profit organizations and government customers. We are committed to helping businesses and individuals operate in a safe and secure environment that will enable them to prosper.”

  Interesting.

  Sophie vaguely wondered if any of her event organizers had relied on Sloan Protection Resources. Or if some of her wealthiest benefactors did. She suspected the answer was yes, and that she and Ryan Sloan trafficked in the same circles even though they hadn’t met until the other day.

  She clicked on the About Us section, and was greeted by a photo that made her heart stutter and other parts heat up.

  The picture was of two strong, tall men—clearly related—in suits, with arms crossed and serious looks on their faces. Sophie’s eyes were drawn to Ryan, with his light brown hair, a slight wave to it, his eyes like night, and the firm, strong, toned body that the suit didn’t even try to hide. That man just knew how to wear sharp-dressed g
arb. He was tailor-made for the part of strong, sexy businessman.

  A murmur fell from her lips as she brushed her fingertip across his image. He was so fucking hot.

  Clicking on his name, she jumped to another page and found his bio.

  Ryan Sloan is one of the founders of Sloan Protection Resources. A native of Las Vegas, Ryan attended University of Michigan where he played for the hockey team. After graduating with a bachelor’s degree in history, he spent five years in the army, completing his service as a captain, like his brother Michael. The two of them founded Sloan Protection Resources six years ago. Together they are committed to ensuring the highest level of safety for clients, and rely on trained teams of former law enforcement, military, and security professionals who are state certified and skilled in the latest tools and tactics.

  Sophie’s grin spread along with a burst of warmth through her chest. That was just…sexy.

  And hot.

  And so very dominant.

  from: [email protected]

  to: [email protected]

  date: July 14, 1:28 PM

  subject: The more you know…

  Thank you. And your bio sure makes you sound hot. Good thing I know you can back it up with your talented fingers. And possibly other instruments. See you tonight.

  from: [email protected]

  to: [email protected]

  date: July 14, 1:37 PM

  subject: Five hours, twenty-three minutes

  Still can’t wait.

  from: [email protected]

  to: [email protected]

  date: July 14, 1:41 PM

  subject: One more thing…

  What if I don’t wear a skirt?

  He never answered her last note.

  Chapter Eight

  Sophie was early for once.

  Only because she told herself over and over that their date started an hour sooner. She’d even set the alarm on her phone to leave her building at five-thirty, which gave her the necessary thirty minutes to walk to Ceasar’s and make it to the Fizz Bar, and then keep herself entertained outside it playing the slots as she waited.

  She didn’t want to be late for her date, so she’d tricked her own overactive mind.

  Now, the little hand on the clock had landed on seven. On the dot.