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A Million Dirty Secrets (Million Dollar Duet #1) Page 66
Author: C.L. Parker

“I’m sorry, am I disturbing you?” Her voice was a purr of erotic lust. She seductively fingered the tie that hung loosely in the valley of her fuckawesome tits. “I can leave if you want.”

My heart thumped erratically in my chest, and I was sure my mouth had to be hanging open. She was a vixen, a porn star … a goddess.

My cock strained against the zipper of my suddenly too tight khaki pants, all the blood having raced there within a millisecond. I thought for a moment that maybe my little soldier was trying to burrow a hole so that he could have a look-see for himself, but that couldn’t actually happen—could it? I was quickly learning that whenever Delaine was around, anything was possible.

“Crawford?” Sherman’s voice was a vague echo in the background. My focus was trained completely on my million-dollar baby, her body the siren distracting me from my previous obsession. She was all that mattered. Everything else faded into nothingness.

“I was just in the shower and, well, all that hot water was washing over my skin with the most delicious pressure, and it made me think about your body pressed against mine and that magical thing you do with your fingers … and your tongue …” She closed her eyes and reclined her head while caressing her bare throat with one hand, the other slipping between her legs as she sighed. “I need you to touch me.”

“Helloooo? Are you still there, Crawford?”

I shook off the haziness the best I could and cleared my throat as I forced myself to look away from her. “Um, yeah. I have someone, er, something to do. Call me first thing in the morning.”

I didn’t wait for a response before I hung up the phone. He’d call me because he wanted to get paid. And I figured I’d gone more than two weeks without knowing the information I wanted, so surely I could wait ten more hours.

With lightning speed, I was standing in front of Delaine with both hands fisted on the door frame above her. I didn’t dare touch for fear I might bruise or break her. “You can’t fucking say stuff like that without—”

Unable to finish my thought because she was standing there, all sinfully naked and smelling wickedly aroused, I lost all resolve and sank down on one knee, perching one of her delicate feet on my shoulder before I leaned in to give her the tongue-lashing of her life. Of course it was merely a punishment for interrupting such an important business call. It was going to hurt me far worse than it was going to hurt her.

Yeah, even I called bullshit.

“Uh-uh-uh.” She pushed ever so slightly on my shoulder with the spiked heel of her shoe to force me to sit back away from her. “So I was just wondering … You don’t happen to play piano, do you? Because I found this sexy little black number downstairs, in what I assume is your music room, and I was thinking about how incredibly erotic it would be if I were to be, oh, I don’t know—on display for you while you played for me. I mean, take a look at this black tie. I am dressed formally, after all.”

’Nuff motherfucking said.

Without uttering a word—because, like I said, none were needed—I threw her over my shoulder and headed toward what she so adequately called my music room. The acoustics in there were even better than the acoustics in the foyer, and I couldn’t wait to hear the echo of her screaming my name. And she would definitely scream.

Lanie

Men were so predictable.

All I had to do was show up virtually naked and insinuate I wanted a little bit of attention, and I had him eating out of the palm of my hand. Well, maybe it wasn’t exactly the palm of my hand that he wanted to eat out of, but either way, I got the desired result.

I’d been thinking about the whole cheating-whore-of-an-ex-girlfriend thing that Polly had told me about earlier, and I was determined to shower him with the attention he craved, to make sure he knew that I was all about him. Because when it came right down to it, that was the whole reason he’d stooped so low as to buy a woman in the first place. I was a sure thing: guaranteed to cater to his every whim and desire, guaranteed to want him and only him.

Not that I was complaining. Sure, I should have been disgusted with myself for basically being a willing participant, and I was—to an extent. But I was a woman with needs that I hadn’t ever realized I had before all this began, needs that were most certainly being met by a man who under normal circumstances would’ve been able to get me into his bed without having to ask twice. Besides, I’d signed on for this, right? I’d known what I was getting myself into. Actually enjoying the “work” had to be an added perk. I mean, I could’ve just as easily been stuck with Jabba the Hut.

The Cooch was nodding emphatically in agreement until I had to go and mention that fat, nasty bastard, which sent a shiver down her spine.

Noah threw me over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes and I giggled like a school girl when he turned his face and nipped me on the ass with those gorgeous white teeth of his. Apparently I wasn’t the only one with an ass-biting fetish.

We finally made it into the music room. I could tell because his saber-toothed purr had become more like a constant humming vibration that I not only heard but felt. As gently as he could, he sat me on top of his baby grand and stood between my parted knees.

“This what you had in mind?” His voice was a deep, sultry rumble that traveled through his body and out through his hands, which were perched on the piano on either side of me. I actually felt the vibration of it against my girlie bits, making me reminisce about my new bestie, the Crawford bullet.

“Actually, I was thinking something more along the lines of you sitting on the bench, letting those talented fingers of yours molest the ivories,” I said while running my hands up and down his chest. “You think you can do that for me, Noah? Play me a little something inspired by the vision of my … your … pussy?”

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C.L. Parker's Novels
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