Melanie bobbed her head. “And you never know, while you’re away maybe you’ll figure out what it is you’re looking for in a man.”
“At a sex resort?”
“It’s not a sex resort,” Lilliana reassured her. “It’s just a place where single people go to meet others.”
Slipping into lawyer mode, Rebecca challenged, “But when you say others, you mean the opposite sex right? So in my book that’s a sex resort.” Rebecca picked up the ticket and turned it over in her hand, but as she thought about it, really, really thought about what her friend’s were offering her, her body began warming in the most intimate places. She wet her suddenly dry lips, her nipples tightening as she envisioned the salacious activities that undoubtedly took place on the exclusive island.
A strange garbled noise caught in her throat and she shook her head to clear it. God, she must be crazy—and the jury was still out on that—because for a moment there she actually found herself considering their ludicrous offer.
Rebecca squinted to read the fine print. “Is this place even legal?”
“Of course it is, and you leave first thing in the morning.” Melanie snatched the ticket and shoved it into Rebecca’s purse; her way of saying the topic was no longer up for debate.
Rebecca stiffened. “I don’t think—”
“Which is why we’re doing the thinking for you,” Lillian countered.
“If you’re not at the airport by nine sharp, I’ll personally drag you from your bed and take you there.” Melanie finished her drink, and grinned. “And don’t come back until you’ve had at least a dozen orgasms.”
“And we don’t want to hear a peep from you until Monday morning, when we’ll meet you at the office to hear all the juicy details,” Lilliana said. “If you call before then, we won’t answer.”
“That’s right,” Sophie added, pointing to Rebecca’s purse. “You’ve just been gifted with a ticked to Freedom. So go. Be free.”
Quinn Montgomery took one look at the flight manifest and felt his cock swell with an excitement he hadn’t felt in a long time. As the Dom in him stirred to life, he carefully set the paper on his desk and took two measured steps to his office window. He adjusted his tie and blinked against the bright morning rays glistening on the wings of the Cessna idling quietly on the tarmac below. He turned his attention to his ground crew, who were performing maintenance checks before today’s scheduled flights, but his thoughts were too preoccupied with the names on his manifest, one name in particular, to follow their progress.
Rebecca Andrews.
Now what were the odds that the lawyer who’d cost his company hundreds of thousands of dollars had booked a charter on one of his crafts? A charter to a hedonistic resort, nonetheless.
His mind raced back to last year’s trial, and to the lawsuit Ms. Andrews’ client never should have won. How it was his company’s fault that Ms. Andrews’ client had booked a package though a shady travel agent, only to find herself alone and stranded on Nantucket Island during one of the year’s worst storm was beyond him. Yet in the end, his company had to go good for the damages, as well as the mental stress and loss of wages that the woman had allegedly suffered.
Quinn’s mouth twitched and he scrubbed his hand over his chin as he rolled back and forth on the balls of his feet. While the money was only a drop in the bucket for his company, the tricks the lawyer had used to get what she wanted from him, left him wanting to use a few tricks of his own—to get what he wanted from her.
Oh yeah, watching her from the hot seat during his trial, watching that sharp tongue of hers in action, had him wanting to find other ways to put that smart mouth of hers to work. Heat prowled through his body as he thought about how Ms. Andrews kept her control close, kept her body poised and her head held high. But during the proceeding, every time her glance had landed on him and she lowered her gaze in a submissive move, he knew she was in denial. Damned if he didn’t want to be the one to open her eyes and her body, and put her in touch with her deeper needs.