SilkenSeduction (2 page)
Authors: Tara Nina
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Lyndsay. I’m Temair
O’Hara,” she managed to eke out of her dry throat as she accepted his extended
hand in a formal shake. “Of O’Hara Designs.”
“I know.”
He knew? Evan Lyndsay had heard of her? If her hand wasn’t
still in his, she probably would have stumbled. The warmth of his touch
filtered into her system and emboldened her self-esteem. Leveling her gaze dead
on his, she allowed a smile to grace her lips, as purely sexual thoughts of
things she’d like to do to him exploded in her brain.
“I’m impressed.” The words came out huskier than she
intended in her sweet Southern drawl on a soft whisper. Unable to stop, her
gaze slid down his body in a slow, hungry perusal, only to return in a matter
of seconds to meet his hooded stare.
“So am I,” he stated, giving her a tempting little smile,
which added to her desire to tickle that hot soul patch beneath his lower lip.
Instantly, she missed the heat of his touch when he released
her hand and reached into his inside jacket pocket.
“My card,” he said as he took a moment to slide his gaze up
and down her body once more, before he continued. “Hopefully, we’ll get
together before the show is over.”
On reflex, she handed him one of hers. With a debonair tip
of his head he added, “If you’ll excuse me…”
A sense of loss filled her the moment he turned and walked
away. What had he done to her? All she could do for a matter of long seconds
was stare, watching him examine other displays. Temair gave herself a good
inner shake, forcing control over the ludicrous thoughts flaring to life in her
head.
The man hadn’t placed a spell on you
, she snapped at her
reflection.
You’re just horny!
The echo of the unspoken words
reverberated in her brain. Not wanting to look like some stupid idiot fawning
over him, she gathered her resolve and returned to meeting and greeting other
individuals attending the convention. After all, he wasn’t the only other
person there. But you would have thought he was with the way her eyes kept
locating him in the convention center, even though she tried to keep her mind
on her work.
One thing Temair noticed throughout the rest of the
afternoon was that occasionally his subtle glances graced her legs. He averted
his gaze each time she caught him looking. Was she imaging the sensation of his
desire from across the crowded room?
Nah. She shook her head. It had to be her imagination. What
would a gorgeous younger man want with a middle-aged, Rubenesque woman? Then
again, she smiled to herself, there was so much more she had to offer than a
stick-figured woman with a flat chest. Temair fingered her pearls and glanced
down at her endowment. Yep, being of ample bosom was a plus. She smiled then
turned to answer a question of a curious patron.
Chapter Two
By the time the first day came to a close, Temair was
exhausted. It was late and her legs ached with every step. Who knew wearing
spiked heels all day gave the legs such a workout? Out of habit, Temair checked
the gate that had been slid down over the outside of her shop to make sure it
was secure. She walked to the door that led to the stairwell to her apartment
above the shop and unlocked it. She stopped inside the entranceway and locked
the door behind her. After slipping off her shoes, she carried them and the
lockbox of jewelry from her display up the flight of stairs to her one-bedroom
home.
Total fatigue set in once she made it through the apartment
door and locked it behind her. All she wanted was a shower and bed. She set the
lockbox on the kitchen counter, walked across the living area and into her
bedroom, tossing her shoes into the open closet. The only thing she didn’t like
about her small apartment was the location of the bathroom. Anyone who visited
had to walk through her bedroom to reach it. But this place was hers and hers
alone. And best of all, it was above her shop, making it convenient and
efficient for work.
This being her first event at the Javits Center, she had no
idea the place was so huge. Hundreds of people attended the event, from the
curious onlooker to the serious buyer checking out the latest designs that
might possibly fit the lines of their companies. She had several nibbles from
two of the smaller chains, and one in-depth conversation with a buyer from a
new franchise, but nothing lucrative.
With the amount of people at the convention, the
air-conditioning became overtaxed, and the sheer size of the building made it
fail at maintaining a level of comfort. In hindsight, she decided leather
wasn’t the wisest of selections to wear. Both thighs maintained a minute level
of perspiration throughout the latter part of the day. The leather seemed stuck
to her skin, causing her to have to peel the skirt from her body.
Inch by slow inch, she tugged it down her hips. Temair
wiggled and pushed until she managed to free her flesh from the tight garment.
The whoosh of the skirt as it slithered down her legs seemed unusually loud. A
distinctive scent of warm leather mixed with her own faint feminine smell
tickled her nose. An image of black leather pants on a certain Evan Lyndsay
flashed in her head. Would he wear them? Was he the type?
She entertained the idea as she unzipped the side of her
blouse and shimmied out of it. What would it be like to unzip him in a slow,
seductive manner? An uncontrollable smile tugged at her lips as she continued
to fantasize. Would he like having her on her knees before him, undressing him,
peeling tight leather from his hips, down his legs, and setting his cock free?
Would the scent of leather cling to his skin as it did hers?
What teased her senses the most—would she taste it on his
skin?
A tentative tongue brushed across her lips as if she tried
hard enough she could actually taste him there. She unclasped the string of
pearls from around her neck, and couldn’t help but think of sex, and another
style of pearl necklace. The thought of Evan’s cock gifting her with his juices
made her insides quiver.
Closing her eyes, shutting out the tired reflection in the
mirror, she wondered when she’d become such a sexual deviate. Never had she had
such a time controlling her thoughts. On and off all day, some form of naughty
inspiration played in her head, and the only thing that was repetitive in each
vision was the male participant. What had he done to her? One meeting and his
essence engraved itself upon her brain.
Temair’s breathing increased and her breasts swelled tight
against the full-figured cups of her bra. In a well-practiced move, she reached
behind, unfastened her black lace bra, setting her breasts loose from their
confinement. Why society’s rules proclaimed proper women should wear bras was
beyond her. Her breasts liked their freedom. Cupping each, she massaged the
tender globes and thumbed the sensitive nipples in a comforting caress that
easily heightened her already turned-on state.
Dropping her hands to her hips, she hitched her thumbs under
the thin straps of the black lace thong, slipped it down her legs and stepped
out of it. Now there was another piece of clothing she didn’t understand. It
was the closest she’d ever come to
going commando
. With the slim amount
of material used in its design, it was almost as good as going naked. Then
again, she held it up and caught a hint of her own scent. It was a sexy little
garment, if she did say so herself.
Maybe Lisanne was right. Sexy undergarments and hot leather
did heighten the sensitivity of the skin. With every move she made today, the
bra and matching thong caressed her secretly in all the right places. And the
snug leather skirt cradled her bottom and thighs in a sensual hug. On second
thought, she decided she liked the secret sexual thrill it gave her to wear it.
If this trade show paid off and she landed a decent-paying
contract, she planned to add more leather and silk to her wardrobe and stop
dressing for practicality purposes. After all, she was a woman, and women
deserved to enjoy their femininity.
Hearing the wise words of Lisanne in her head made her
smile. Lisanne was good for her. The woman did know how to enjoy life and sex
to the fullest. Staring at a set of tired green eyes in the mirror, Temair ran
her fingers through her shoulder-length, light-brown hair and admired the
blonde highlights she’d let Lisanne put in. It truly did make a difference in
her appearance.
If Evan Lyndsay saw her now, he probably wouldn’t look at
her twice. She stared at the exhausted reflection and couldn’t help but notice
how much it showed her age. A new little wrinkle here, an age spot there.
Nothing could hide the tiny crow’s feet at the corners of her eyes and the dark
circles underneath brought on by the strain of the day. Just another gift from
Mother Nature that came with age. Temair huffed.
She gathered her clothes from the floor and tossed them into
the hamper. The leather skirt she hung on the hook on the back of the door with
the intent of dropping it at the cleaners, along with her other dress clothes,
come Monday morning after the end of the show.
The moment the water was hot, she stepped inside the tub and
tugged the curtain closed. Moist heat coated her skin and sent chills scurrying
up and down her arms. Mmm, how the thought of a man in snug leather pants had
her senses elevated. Her eyes squeezed tight as she tried to push the thought
out of her head. It wouldn’t do to think of him as anything but another
professional. A man his age wouldn’t be interested in an over-the-hill woman
such as herself.
She was determined to command the direction of her tired
brain waves, even though every ounce of conscious thought begged for the
excitement of the fantasy. Temair wet her hair then filled her palm with
shampoo. Thick cream pooled in her hand. She stared at the creamy liquid as the
fantasy commandeered all thought.
Her resolve was defeated as all gray matter sizzled for sex.
Would his cock be easy to coax into giving her its gift? No, a man like Evan
Lyndsay would take some time to please. Visions of her on her knees, teasing
him with her tongue, her lips and her mouth, flashed on the big screen inside
her head. What would it take to earn his pleasure? Oh god! Temair shook all
over. She had to stop thinking of him as some sex toy.
Thrashing her hands into her hair, she worked the shampoo
into a lather and scrubbed until her scalp tingled. At this level of sexual
frustration, she’d be bald in no time. Bald wasn’t bad on him. It added to his
appearance and made his eyes stand out. Her mind seemed determined to focus on
the subject of her desires, even though she tried desperately to fight it.
After all she was probably old enough to be his moth— She stumbled over the
thought and decided she was more along the age line of a young aunt.
Temair laughed at her uptightness over the age gap. It
really didn’t matter. This was simply a fantasy, a figment of her lusty
imagination. It wasn’t as if it was really ever going to happen. Leaning into
the shower stream, she relaxed.
She couldn’t get those eyes out of her mind—deep soulful
eyes that held secrets. The idea of what those sexual secrets might be made her
smile, and had her sex clenched in anticipation. She kept her eyes closed and
relinquished control of her thoughts, focusing on the man who ignited this slow
burn within her.
Soap in hand, she lathered her chest, taking her time to
suds each breast and massage each nipple to full attention. Consistent rolling
of her nipples between her fingertips made her breathing increase as the vision
of his eyes lingered behind her closed lids. The thought of that little patch
of fluff beneath his lower lip brushing her sensitive nipples nearly made her
come.
Would it be feather soft or bristle rough?
Either way the thought made her tremble. Temair pressed her
back against the tile and tightened her thighs together for support. Chin
tilted into the spray of water, she rinsed the soap from her hair and body.
Each touch heightened her need and increased the pressure building in her sex.
God, it had been
way
too long since she’d been laid.
Imagination at full throttle, her hands became his hands.
Her touch was his touch. Slow, tender caresses slid from her hair, down her
neck to her breasts, and lingered on her nipples, twirling and tugging them
into taut pinnacles. Inch by inch, she trailed the length of her abdomen with
featherlight, fingertip touches to the clean-shaven playground between her
thighs.
Damn, she was hot and horny. Being this turned-on, thinking
of those powerful, controlling light-blue eyes, Temair knew her fingers
wouldn’t be enough. Not now.
Both legs shook as she shut off the water, climbed out of
the tub, and grabbed a towel. The brush of the cotton across her breasts sent
shivers down her abdomen, causing her inner muscles to knot. In a haphazard
fashion, she tucked the towel around her, not bothering to dry off. Wet
footprints trailed her to the bed.
Temair opened the bottom drawer of her bedside table and
retrieved the birthday gift Lisanne had given her. When she’d first opened it,
she was astonished at its size. Never had she seen nor held a vibrator before
then, but over the past month, she and it became old acquaintances.
Forgotten, the towel dropped to her feet as she folded back
the covers and crawled under. Eyes closed, she thought only of a sensual
younger man dressed all in black. Sleek head, great smile, adorable dimples,
and a set of eyes it would be a pleasure to look into from any direction—up,
down, over the shoulder.
Oh god, she was hot. Thinking of those eyes, her breathing
increased as she turned the end of the vibrator and a low, familiar hum
whispered from beneath the sheets. Her nipples instantly puckered, her abdomen
tightened, and she knew this wouldn’t take long.
