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"I'm here to research a book I'm working on. This isn't a pleasure trip for me."
"Oh." She cast her luscious lashes downward, and had the gall to look disappointed. "That's too bad."
"Why?"
She looked at him, those sea green eyes of hers pleading innocently. Innocent his ass.
"I was going to ask you a favor."
"What kind of favor?"
"About this week." She half turned, her breasts pushing up against the top of the dress. Damn, they were luscious. He bet his shaft would slide easily between the two full mounds, fucking them until he came all over that beautiful face.
Down cock, down. "What about this week?"
"Well, I came here for some action, Michael. And I was thinking, since we'll be sharing a room and all, that you and I could participate together in the, uh, events."
"Participate? How?"
She swallowed. "You know how. The way the brochure described."
"Well, I'm not really sure what you're getting at."
"C'mon, Michael," she said, her voice low and throaty and sexy as hell. "Don't make me spell it out for you."
So she was still a little shy. Definitely not what he expected at this resort. "If you want something from me, you're gonna have to spell it out, Serena. Tell me exactly what you want."
A brief glimpse of that unsure woman who'd all but stumbled into his room today surfaced, but she disguised it brilliantly with a quick lick of her hot, pink tongue over her lips.
"I'd like you to be my partner this week, Michael. I'd like us to choose events to participate in together. Events where we'd touch, kiss, explore each other's bodies. I want to suck you and feel your tongue on me. I want to feel that hot cock of yours deep inside me, pumping away until we both come."
Well, that sure as hell spelled it out for him.
Chapter Two
"I see." All too clearly, in fact, Michael's mind was awash in images of what he and Serena could do over the next week. No, no, no. Absolutely not. He was not about to get involved with a sex-starved woman this week, when what he really needed to do was research his book. If Ginny were here it would have been uncomplicated. Once the sex was over, she'd either sleep or lay in the sun. God forbid they should carry on a conversation. But Serena? No way.
He'd have to pay attention with her, not to mention engage in sexual activities that would rob his brain of even the rudimentary fundamentals of how to plot a book. Already the blood had rushed to his straining cock and he'd lost ten IQ points.
"Well? What do you think of my idea?" she asked.
He wasn't buying that innocent bat of her eyelashes for one second, despite the fact his penis jumped up and down and shouted, Yes! Yes! Yes! "I think it's a really bad idea. Like I said, I'm here to research, not participate."
Her expression softened and she cast her eyes downward, those long lashes fluttering against her cheek. "Oh."
Ah, hell. That damn hurt look from a woman always affected him. Serena was especially good at it. Her sad, puppydog face was like a knife in his heart. He wanted to pull her into his lap and stroke her back and tell her everything was going to be okay. And then fuck her senseless until she smiled again.
Not a bad plan, actually. "Hey, I didn't mean I wasn't attracted to you. I just have to concentrate on my work."
"It's okay," she said, quickly standing and walking toward the sliding glass doors open to the balcony. She turned to him. "What kind of books do you write?"
"Erotic crime novels."
She stared back at him for a second and tilted her head, then her eyes widened. "I read erotic crime novels. Only one Michael that I'm aware of. You wouldn't be Michael Donovan, would you? "
He nodded. "Yeah." For some reason the fact that she knew who he was surprised the hell out of him. She didn't seem the type to read his kind of books.
"I love your books," she said, a smile curving her lips before she turned back to view the ocean.
"Thanks. What do you do, Serena?"
"I'm a professor of literature at a small college in Kansas."
A professor? Hell, she didn't look old enough to be out of college yet, let alone be teaching at one. "No shit."
She didn't answer, seemingly miles away as she stared outside.
In profile, she was stunning. Hell, frontways, behind, sideways, she knocked his socks off. The face of an angel and the body of a seductress. A combo that would make any man's cock stand at attention. His certainly was. Making it through the week with a constant hard-on wasn't going to help his research one bit.
Then again, the protagonist of his newest book would be suffering severe sexual teasing from the femme fatale out to get him. Maybe it would be good research to be strung up tighter than a thinly stretched wire.
"I guess I should head downstairs and make some connections before all the single guys are taken for the week," she sighed.
Suddenly, the thought of her making connections with any guy's cock other than his irritated him. Big time.
But why? She wasn't his. Hell, he barely knew her. But what he'd seen showed an intelligent, beautiful woman that maybe, just maybe, might fit the main femme fatale in his new book. He could always chalk it up to research.
Yeah, right. Any excuse to find out exactly what she wasn't wearing under that tight little dress.
"Wait a second." He stood and walked over to her.
She turned to him and offered a delicate smile. God, she was breathtaking. Just like the woman he envisioned as the murderer in his new book. Beautiful on the outside, vicious killer on the inside. His mind churned with plot ideas, thinking he'd just found the perfect model for his heroine.
"Is it too late to change my mind about your offer?"
She lifted a brow. "You mean...?"
He nodded. "The more I think about it, the more I'm convinced you might be the perfect woman to help me with research for my next book."
She smiled, showing white, even teeth. "Oh, you mean it? I'd love that. I mean, I love your books; the characters are so psychotically perfect. I've studied your craft for years, Michael. I'd love to help."
He laughed, and couldn't help the tiny jolt of pride he felt that she thought so highly of his writing. "Thanks. But I didn't mean just the research for the book."
"I know that. You want to fuck me."
There went his cock again, like a divining rod and she held the water source. "Yes. I want to fuck you. I want to do a lot of things with you. Are you game?"
She nodded. "Yes. And thank you, Michael. You won't be disappointed."
"I'm sure I won't," he replied, lifting a blonde curl. She gasped when his knuckles brushed the top of one burgeoning breast. Her skin was like soft butter. His cock was demanding attention. Patience, dammit. It'll happen soon enough. Right now, he wanted to anticipate the moment when he revealed the secrets Serena barely hid underneath that scrap of dress.
"I have one condition, though," he said.
"What's that?"
"This week between us is about sex. Physical pleasure only. No emotions. No involvement. And nothing goes beyond this week. When the party's over, it's over forever."
She tilted her head to the side and her hair fell behind her back, giving him a clear view of that creamy neck. Damn he'd like to leave a few marks on that gorgeous throat of hers.
"Got it. Physical only. Sex only. No emotions. Exactly what I was thinking. You've got a deal, Michael." Her body practically thrummed with the excitement that showed so clearly on her face. He could feel the vibrations already. So could his penis. He might have to get a hammer and beat the bastard into submission.
Which conjured up all kinds of visuals on how Serena could tame his wayward penis.
He nodded. "Let's go downstairs and have a drink and see what fun they have in store for us this week."
Michael followed her out, watching her perfect ass sway back and forth as she headed towards the lobby. Hopefully, he wouldn't be the only man in attendance tonight with a hard
-on like a steel beam.
*
Serena couldn't believe her good luck. She'd stumbled onto the perfect man for her foray into sexual paradise, and he'd just agreed to act as her stud for the week.
No, that sounded crass. But true. It wasn't like this was the Dating Game. It was sex. Rowdy, public or private, in groups or one-on-one, any way you wanted it sex. And she had to get it straight in her mind. She couldn't expect anything to come of this week except pure sexual enjoyment. Otherwise she'd be grossly disappointed.
Michael Donovan. Wow. She'd loved every single one of his books, read them with guilty pleasure in the privacy of her little apartment. She could only imagine what the university faculty would think if they knew she read erotic novels, especially ones like Michael wrote. Not only loaded with graphic sex, but psychopaths, serial killers, evil most profound. She inhaled his novels like she would forbidden fruit.
And did his writing ever turn her on. She'd masturbated to a few of his sex scenes before, vividly imagining the cop or agent who'd fallen under the spell of the beautiful, tormented, female with a body to die for and the psyche of a killer. Those scenes never failed to take her to new heights of sexual pleasure. Many times she had to muffle her screams as she came, knowing the walls of her apartment were too thin to be yelling out in ecstasy.
He had a wickedly sexual mind. Serena wondered if his mind traveled in those directions in his real life, or were those scenes he wrote about merely an exercise in literary creativity.
