Erotic Encounters (15 page)

Her thoughts were interrupted when he urged her to roll onto her stomach, pull her legs up and spread them wide apart. A tremor of anxiety darted through her, putting a momentary damper on her heightened state of arousal. She wasn’t sure what he planned.

She heard him rip open the condom packet, then a moment later his cock head probed at her pussy mouth from behind. He reached around her and expertly manipulated her throbbing clit with his fingers, again propelling her toward the ongoing orgasms that had consumed her the entire evening.

He shoved into her until he had his cock embedded all the way inside her hot wet tunnel. The angle, the direction, having him enter her from behind provided a whole new sensory arena to explore. She automatically pushed back against him in response, wiggling her ass to show her delight and excitement.

He thrust in and out with long sure strokes, which quickly became short hard jabs as he rushed toward his release. He gave up all pretense of trying to make it last. Her pussy muscles grabbed and squeezed his shaft as her orgasmic contractions continued to claim her. A moment later, his body shuddered. He took one last hard plunge to bury his cock deep inside her. He reached around and grabbed her breasts as he fell forward against her, his chest heaving and his heart pounding.

The spasms rippled through his body. He gulped in several deep breaths. He finally managed to pull his spent cock out of her tight pussy then collapsed back on the bed. He forced the words that came out in a husky whisper. “My sexy vixen…I think we need to take a breather and have some champagne.”

After a few minutes of rest, Jonathon disposed of the used condoms and condom wrappers, each one evoking memories of sex so intense it should have scorched the sheets. The time had arrived for cuddling, softness, gentle play and perhaps a renewed attempt to discover who she was.

He opened another bottle of chilled champagne and poured two glasses. He had never felt so totally drained and at the same time so energized and wanting more. He stood next to the bed admiring the sexy frame stretched out seductively on the rumpled sheets. It was a time for cuddling, but most certainly not the end of the night.

He sat on the bed with his back resting against the headboard and his legs stretched out in front of him. She immediately scooted up next to him. He put his arm around her shoulder and stroked her hair. They sipped their champagne in silence, each enjoying the quiet moments of reflection. He refilled their glasses. They nestled together in intimate closeness, an unconscious emotional bonding.

The empty bottle rested in the ice bucket. She snuggled next to him. He skimmed his fingers lightly across the creamy texture of her skin. He brushed her hair back and placed a soft kiss on the side of her neck. For the first time he noticed the tiny heart-shaped birthmark behind her ear. It was as delicate as the essence of her being.

He wanted to make love to her as he had the previous Saturday night. Tender, gentle, caring lovemaking different than frenzied, torrid sex. He wanted to recapture that emotional connection. The one that spoke of commitment, a home, a family—happily ever after. What was there about this woman, this mysterious stranger, that had his thoughts again heading in that direction?

His mouth closed over hers in a loving kiss, an emotional kiss. He ran his hand down the length of her back and across the perfect roundness of her ass as he pulled her body tighter against his. He reveled in the warmth of her closeness, the sensation of her bare skin touching his.

Her breathing increased as his kiss deepened. He turned her onto her back where she sank into the softness of the bed, his body partially covering hers. He slipped his hand between her legs, tickling his fingers up the inside of her thigh until he reached the softness of the feathery curls nestled between her legs. He slowly inserted one finger between her pussy lips and into the moist heat of her body. She moaned softly in his ear, the sound pushing his arousal to a higher level. He quickly sheathed his cock with another condom and smoothly entered her.

Her long blonde hair flared out across the pillow in wild disarray, giving her an earthy seductive appearance. He saw the passion burning in her eyes. If only he could see her face. She had him encased in that hot tight sheath, her pussy muscles doing incredible things to him that he couldn’t begin to describe. All he knew for sure was that he could spend a lifetime and never find anyone who satisfied all his desires the way she did. And if they didn’t do anything more for the rest of the night than what they were doing right now, he knew he could die a happy and
very
satisfied man.

He moved smoothly in and out of her tight, wet sheath, each thrust conveying tender feelings. Their mutual climax exploded in sexual release accompanied by an equally potent emotional bonding. He continued to hold her in his arms as he delicately stroked her skin and hair.

Jonathon wasn’t sure what to do. At some point the night had to end. At some point they would leave the inn and go their separate ways. And once again he would be left with a strange emptiness and no idea of how to find his mysterious lover. Hot, sexy, wanton, earthy—she was all those things. Tender, soft, loving—she was also all those things. He didn’t want to lose her. He reached for her mask.

She quickly scooted out of his reach before he could unmask her. “No.”

He turned on his side and propped himself up on one elbow. “Why not? What are you hiding? Are you someone I know? Will I immediately recognize you without your mask? Let me see your face. Let me know who you are.”

“I…I can’t. Please don’t ask me any more questions.”

He couldn’t see her face, but he saw the pleading in her eyes. It was almost a look of panic. Who was she? What would the implications be if he knew her identity? What was there that made her so fearful?

He leaned toward her, placed a tender kiss on her lips, then slid out of bed. “I’ll be right back.”

Trish’s gaze followed his retreating form until he closed the bathroom door. She hadn’t been sure a week ago, but now there was no doubt. Somewhere over the last three years, she had fallen in love with Jonathon Rutledge.

As much as the beauty of their lovemaking would remain in her consciousness, she couldn’t continue to work for him. She knew she wouldn’t be able to handle day to day contact with this man, knowing it would always be a hands off business relationship. Maybe she could have before, but not now. Not after experiencing the torrid passion that existed between them. A bittersweet tremor shivered through her body. The euphoria of a moment earlier had suddenly turned to sadness.

For right now, she needed to leave the room and there was the only way she would be able to do it without creating a problem. After quickly shrugging into her dress, she searched for her shoes, finally spotting them under the edge of the bed. She started toward them, moving quickly but quietly across the carpeting.

“Damn!” She immediately clamped her hand over her mouth.

Her little toe throbbed painfully.
Damn bed frame leg.
It was a complication she definitely didn’t need. She lifted her foot in the air and wrapped her hand around her injured toe while attempting to maintain balance on the other foot. Her ankle twisted under her. She felt it, but was helpless to prevent the fall that sent her sprawling on the floor.

Double damn, what else can go wrong? I have to get out of here.

She struggled to her feet, carefully trying to protect her stubbed toe on one foot while favoring her painful ankle on the other leg. Then her less than smooth escape totally fell apart when the bathroom door opened.

Jonathon’s eyes widened in shock. “Are you going somewhere?” He pointed to her foot as she edged toward the door. “What happened?”

“I…uh, stubbed my toe on the bed frame leg and then twisted my ankle when I fell.” She took another step closer to the door.

“So, it’s just like last week. You’re sneaking out, running away without even saying good-bye.”

The look of disappointment and hurt on his face grabbed at her, but she knew she had to steel herself against the emotions. A quick glance at her shoes told her she would never be able to retrieve them and make it out the door without him pulling off her mask.

She unlocked the safety and flung open the door. Ignoring the pain in her ankle, she fled out into the night.

Chapter Four

As with the previous week, Trish was surprised to see Jonathon’s car in the parking lot when she arrived at work Monday morning. She climbed out of her car, testing to see how much weight she could put on her sprained ankle without needing to favor it. She had hoped to already be in the office and at her desk when he arrived. She had wrapped her ankle in a flesh colored support bandage and had chosen to wear slacks and low heeled shoes in an attempt to hide the sprain. She took a couple of steps and quickly realized she was not going to be able to walk without a slight limp no matter how much she tried to ignore the pain.

A few minutes later, she entered the office and followed her usual Monday morning routine. “Good morning, Mr. Rutledge. Did you have a nice weekend?”

He returned her greeting from the confines of his office. “Good morning, Miss Andrews. Yes, thank you. And you?”

“Just a quiet weekend. I caught up on some chores and ran errands. Nothing special.”
Nothing special—no, nothing special at all other than the hottest sex of my life with the most incredible man alive. A man I think I’ve fallen in love with.

She made coffee, turned on her computer and prepared for the day’s work. As soon as the coffee was ready, she filled his mug and carried it into his office. Even though she made a valiant attempt, she could not help but favor her ankle a little bit. Hopefully he wouldn’t notice. The next item on her normal Monday morning routine was to water the plants in his office. She set the coffee mug on his desk.

He looked up and offered a distracted smile. “Thank you, Miss Andrews.”

Jonathon took a sip of coffee, then another. He had spent a very restless night going over the final moments of his time with his mystery lover. Once again he had stood there stark naked, unable to follow her outside the room. And as before he was filled with the sensation that someone very special had just run out of his life. Then he spotted her shoes. He had been left with a clue. A slim lead, but at least it was something.

He had been in his office since six o’clock that morning going over lists of everyone he knew, both personal and business. He couldn’t come up with anyone who matched the description of his mysterious lover—not a woman he had dated nor even the wife of any of his most obscure business contacts. He had finally resorted to looking up private detectives in the phone book.

Unlike last week, this time he had a lead. Actually two leads. In addition to her shoes, there was the room she had booked at the Bayfront Inn. If she paid with a credit card, that was a definite lead to follow. Even if she paid cash in advance, she would need to do that in person, which meant someone saw her face. One way or the other, he was determined to find out exactly who she was.

He glanced down at the pair of red high heels on the floor next to his desk. He had not bothered to really inspect them. If only he felt confident that he would be as lucky as Prince Charming in tracking down his Cinderella after she had run away from the ball, leaving her shoe behind.

An abstract thought entered his mind. Cinderella had pretended to be a princess so she could pass herself off as someone other than who she really was, someone she believed the prince would find acceptable, someone of the prince’s peer group. Could his Cinderella be someone other than who she had pretended to be? Someone who insisted on keeping her mask on because he would recognize her if he saw her face even if he didn’t know her name? Perhaps someone he came in contact with during the course of his business day? Someone who—

He watched Trish walk across the office, carrying the pitcher to water the plants. Something was different. She was walking with a very slight limp. He looked closer, taking note of her wrapped ankle in spite of the fact that she was wearing pants rather than a skirt.

He gestured toward her foot. “You injured yourself, Miss Andrews?”

“Uh…yes, I took a misstep off a curb in the grocery store parking lot yesterday afternoon and twisted my ankle. It’s not bad. I’m sure it will be fine in a day or two.” She resumed watering the plants.

Jonathon picked up the high heels from the floor, turning them to inspect the soles. They were almost brand new. He set them on his desk. Had they been purchased specifically for the party to go with that sexy red dress, then only worn again the following Saturday night? Too many questions. Too many pieces of the puzzle. Everything began to bounce around inside his head, pieces floating in the air looking for a place to settle, a pattern to fit into.

Was his lady in red someone sent by one of his competitors to trap him in some way? Maneuver him into a compromising position? A night of sex wouldn’t do that. Two nights of sex wouldn’t do it, either. After all, he wasn’t married or even engaged. It might cause a little bit of embarrassment for him, but nothing more.

Business secrets? Neither one of them ever mentioned anything having to do with business, his or hers. In fact, there hadn’t been that much conversation of any kind. He had already confirmed that she hadn’t been wearing a wedding ring nor did she normally wear a ring on that finger. Yet she somehow knew him, not only his name but where to find him.

Trish finished watering the plants, but as she turned toward the door her gaze landed on the high heels resting on his desk, the ones that hadn’t been there a couple of minutes ago. The ones she left in the room at the inn as she made her hasty departure. Her breath froze in her lungs. Panic consumed her to the point she could barely think. She felt light-headed.

Had he discovered her identity? Figured out that she was the mystery woman? Was he simply biding his time until the right moment presented itself for him to confront her? Had he placed the shoes on his desk in hopes that they would intimidate her into confessing? Was he simply toying with her?