Sinful Desire

“You want to know?”


She nodded, keeping her gaze firmly fixed on his. His midnight blue eyes were hungry. He looked as if he wanted to eat her. “Are you going to spank me?”

“Would you like that?”

A shiver of anticipation ran across her skin. “I think I would,” she said in a whisper.

He knitted his brow. “You think? You don’t know?”

She shook her head, biting her lip. “I’ve never been spanked.”

He let out a low whistle of regret. “That’s a damn shame, because you have a highly spankable ass. But this is music to my ears, because I fully intend to break it in,” he said as he moved his hand down her back along the fabric of her shirt, heading in the direction of her, evidently, quite spankable ass.

“I suspect I’d like your hands on my ass,” she said, and he groaned—a sexy, dirty rumble that turned her on. “So are you going to spank me on the rollercoaster? The hot air balloon? Or your secret hidden jet that you’ll be piloting tonight?”

“None of the above. You’re going to have to wait for all the good things now. That’s what happens when you don’t listen.”

“Ah, so that’s my punishment for my impudence. How long must I wait?”

He offered her a hand and pulled her up from her stool. “Until you’re wearing a skirt,” he answered crisply, and her eyes lit up as she stood facing him. She thrilled inside that he’d called her on this. The stern look in his gaze said he was serious, and that he could wait for her to change. He’d be waiting a lot less than he thought.

“Right now though, I want to spend some time getting to know you. That’s why I bought tickets to the High Roller,” he said, mentioning the Ferris wheel nearby. “So I can chat with you as we ride. Because you’re far too classy a woman for me to get you off in front of all the other people riding in our pod.”

“Why thank you for opting not to get me off in a pod. But you know it’s become a thing in Vegas now, trying to have sex on the Ferris wheel.”

He nodded. “Yeah, and most people get busted. There’s a difference between trying to get a tacky, tasteless notch on your public sex belt, and knowing how to pleasure a woman in public so that you’re the only one who knows she’s about to fall apart in your arms.”

“And I trust you know the difference?”

He cupped her cheek, drawing her face near to his so his nose touched hers. How was it possible that touching noses was sexy? Even an Eskimo kiss from this man made her sizzle. Then his words scorched her imagination as he said, “What I know, Sophie, is exactly what I want to do to you. And you’ll just have to wait to find out.”

He grazed his lips against hers, and she murmured as she melted into his touch. Their first kiss at the gala had been hungry and demanding. Ferocious and possessive. This was a soft, slow, unhurried kiss. It was an exploration, as his mouth caressed hers and her body turned soft and pliant under his touch. His kisses were velvet. They were melting chocolate. They were delicious appetizers at the most fantastic restaurant, the kind that made you roll your eyes in pleasure and want so much more.

His touch turned her into a weak-kneed, hazy-headed, buzzing-head-to-toe woman who wanted him. As he laced his fingers through her hair and held the back of her head in his hand, she gave herself over to him, letting him have her however he wanted.

When they separated, he whispered. “But kisses in public are good. They show everyone you’re with me tonight, and that turns me on—having you with me.” His tone, too, sounded thoroughly possessive. Then he laughed. “Which means I better sit and play a round, otherwise I’ll be walking around with a raging hard-on.”

He parked himself on the stool. In a flash, he pulled her back to him so she was seated on his lap. “Mmm,” she said, wriggling against his erection. “Not sure this is going to help get rid of the issue.”

He gripped her hips, the pressure pulling her down against his dick so she could feel his hard length lining up perfectly against her ass. Damn, he felt good.

He stretched out his arm and pressed the button on the machine. “Maybe you’re my lucky charm.”

She crossed her fingers in the air as they waited for the reel to roll through thousands upon thousands of permutations, and Sophie rocked her rear, subtly, but insistently, against his crotch. His breath hitched. He dug his thumbs harder into her hip bones, as if he needed to hold on to survive having her on his lap.

The reel slowed. One ruby red slipper. Then another. Sophie’s shoulders tensed in anticipation and hope. “Please let it be another slipper,” she murmured. She sighed when a witch’s broom busted their chances. “Damn,” she muttered.

“I don’t mind losing. We can just play here all evening because I like the way you feel sitting on me.”

“You’ll get no complaints from me. But we don’t want to miss the High Roller.”