Sexy and Funny, Hilarious Erotic Romance Bundle (82 page)

Smith finished his push-ups and jumped up, his face red from exertion, his sapphire eyes looking bright and inviting. “Shower time. You in?”

I turned and walked away down the hall. “Going for that walk you suggested! Have fun.”

“Oh, I will.”

His voice suggested naughty business, but it was all too soon. I ran away.

Once downstairs, I put on my shoes quickly and raced out the door.

From my vantage point out in the woods, everything that had happened in the cabin seemed surreal.

Was he allowed to flirt with me so brazenly? I'd signed so many documents, including one that acknowledged I understood the author wrote some scenes of a sexual nature. I'd agreed that I wouldn't be crying sexual harassment over typing some dirty words. The document said nothing about him inviting me to take a shower with him, though.

As I walked through the woods, I noticed a distinctive feeling happening between my legs. It was a sexy movie feeling, only the movie was playing in my head. I couldn't stop thinking about Smith in the shower, stroking his long, thick cock, his face contorted, then relieved, as he came in the water, his seed swirling down the drain.

Back at school, I'd always been disappointed when Todd took a long shower in the morning, because he'd be uninterested in making love the rest of the day. I'd wake up alone in bed, hot for him, but he'd rush off to class and leave me wanting, horny and desperate. Frustrated. Exactly the same way I was feeling at that moment in the forest.

Nobody was around, not even a moose, so I leaned back against a sturdy tree, took a deep breath of the fresh Vermont air, and slipped my hand down the front of my jeans.

Our second writing session of the day went even better, with us laying down a significant number of words. The mystery itself was convoluted, with a number of suspects in the “accident” that Detective Smith Dunham's sexy client Sheri suspected was a murder.

I found myself smiling and laughing internally at the dialog Smith gave Sheri. She wasn't just some cardboard sex object for him to bang, but a real person, with a sense of humor and a strong will. She was exactly the kind of woman he never put in his novels. I loved her.

This session went longer than the first, and by the third hour, I was exhausted and exhilarated. We'd fallen into a rhythm together, where I'd mostly sit and type, being his flying fingers, but now and then he'd pause as though searching his mind for a word. I wouldn't say the word out loud, but would type a suggested word on the screen.

For example, he paused when describing a hotel suite, and I typed the word
sumptuous
.

In a softer voice than the one he used to dictate the words of the novel, he said, “Ah, yes,
sumptuous
is even better than
elegant
. That word wouldn't come to mind because it was the wrong word. But you pulled the right word from my subconscious. You must be psychic.” He touched me on the shoulder.

I was so startled and excited by his touch, I moaned.

“Interesting,” he said softly. He resumed his pacing behind me, and the dictation.

He only uttered three sentences, and they were stilted and awkward.

I turned around to look at him and noticed his posture was drooping. “Time for a break?” I asked.

He collapsed on the nearby bed, face down. “Done for the day,” he mumbled.

He didn't move, and I wondered if he was playing a new game, or actually that exhausted. His eyes were closed, and he looked comfortable enough, so I got out of my chair and quietly left the room, shutting the door behind me.

Downstairs, I came upon a revelation: a land line telephone! I shook my head at my own stupidity. My cell phone had no coverage there, and there was no internet, but I was not
entirely
cut off from the rest of the world. I called my mother first, to let her know I'd made the journey safely.

My mother said, “Who is this mysterious author? I'm dying to know. Can you tell me?”

“I can't tell you, but she is a nice lady.”

“Oh.” She sounded disappointed. “I was hoping it might be a nice man who'll take care of you.”

“Mom! I can take care of myself.”

“Of course. That's not what I meant.”

“It's still interesting work, Mom. And I'm having fun. It's nice out here in the country and I had a little jog today.”

“Tori, be a dear and give me the initials of her name, just so I can imagine.”

“Um,
some
of the letters in her name are C and J,” I said. It hurt me to lie to my mother, but I was sworn to secrecy. If it had been anyone else, I would have told her, Non-Disclosure Agreement be damned, but it was Smith Wittingham. My mother was in a book club dedicated to Smith Wittingham's books. Asking her to keep that secret would be cruel and unusual punishment.

As we chatted, with her filling me in on all the adorable things my cousin's baby girl did that day, I stretched the phone's long, curly cord to its limit and raided the kitchen. My meals were included in the contract, but I didn't know which of the portions in the fridge were mine. I didn't want to upset Smith, so I perused all the pre-packaged meals and sampled a small portion from four of them.

The food wasn't bad at all. The typing and the fresh air really had inspired my appetite, and I had to go back for seconds.

After dinner, I stayed in my bedroom. We didn't have internet at the cabin, but there was TV, so at least I wasn't going to die of boredom. I heard Smith shuffling down the stairs and rummaging around in the kitchen, but I didn't go out to talk to him. I wanted to maintain some boundaries, some separation from him, and keeping to myself in my room seemed like the best way.

My room got chilly that evening after the sun went down—summer nights in the mountains were cool. I crawled under my sheets in my nightshirt and closed my eyes. With my eyes shut, my other senses screamed at me that I was not at home. The sheets felt nubby and foreign, and the sounds were all wrong.

I could hear Smith, moving around upstairs. The cabin had good soundproofing, but there was a squeak, and a tap. As I listened, the tap kept going, keeping up a rhythm. Was that his bed? Was he pleasuring himself?

I reached under my nightshirt and pinched my already-firm nipples. Electricity shot down to my pussy instantly. I rolled onto my stomach, one hand down in my panties, and thrust against the firm mattress.

The tapping from upstairs kept going.

All I had to do was go up there, go up those stairs, and offer some excuse. There I'd be, the young college graduate, in nothing but her thin nightshirt. Wasn't that exactly what he wanted? Was I really just there to type?

I rolled onto my back and thought it through. He definitely planned to seduce me, but he probably wanted to draw the tension out, then pick some dramatic moment—something that would fit into his story. His detective would protect his client Sheri from danger, and they'd bone each other senseless in a dirty alley somewhere, smoke still emanating from his spent pistol.

I wasn't Sheri, though. Nowadays, I made my own decisions about who I slept with, rather than letting it just happen. What if I turned the tables on him? What if I seduced him? On our very first night?

I jumped out of bed, flicked on a lamp, and rummaged through the clothes I'd brought. Nothing was any better than the nightshirt I had on, which showed off my firm breasts and youth. One of my professors was always talking about young, nubile flesh—so much, that I'd started to see myself and my friends the way older men saw us. Any girl at nineteen or twenty was attractive, even the ones who didn't think they were.

I freshened up in the bathroom and switched out my underwear for a black pair of lacy panties, the black showing through my white shirt.

My body was aching to be touched, my pussy already swelling at the thought. What if he turned me down?

No, Tori, don't think that way.
We were alone at a cabin for two weeks. He and I both knew we were going to sleep together, and this way was better. We could get started immediately. Oh, the things we could do to each other over the next two weeks.

My body tingled with adrenaline, so much that I could barely feel the bottoms of my feet on the stairs as I crept up. I knocked on his bedroom door, which was closed, with a bit of light showing around the edges.

He called out, “Who is it?”

“Killer moose. I'm looking for Tori.”

“Down the stairs, first door on your right.”

I put my hand to my chin and leaned against the wall. That did not go as planned.

I knocked again.

He called out, “Yes?”

“What are you doing?”

“Reading a book. You should try it sometime.”

Well, now he was just being insulting. I shook my head, embarrassed for being so stupid, and started to walk away.

He opened the door, splashing light out into the hallway. His voice deep and sexy, he said, “Can't sleep?”

I turned around, feeling silly in my thin nightshirt. My hard nipples poked out like traffic cones.

I said, “I heard something tapping and I was curious.”

“Sometimes I kick my foot while I'm reading.” He stepped out of the room, wearing a pair of jogging pants and no shirt. He had a broad chest and a great build, a trail of fair-colored hair running down the middle of his stomach.

“That makes sense.” I backed away two steps.

“Tori, did you come up here to seduce me?”

“Is that what Sheri would do?”

“No. It wasn't at all what I had planned.”

I took two steps closer to him and cocked my head. I was trying to play it cool, but my heart was pounding, my mouth parched from nerves.

“I'm not Sheri,” I said.

“Would you like to come into my room? Once you step through this doorway, everything changes, Tori.”

I reached down and tugged nervously at the hem of my nightshirt.

“My bed is cold,” I said.

He stepped to the side, waving me into his room. “Then come in and share mine.”

My pulse throbbed in my ears. What was I doing? My voice of reason whispered for me to turn around and maintain my boundaries. I looked at Smith's face, from his all-knowing eyes to his wide, handsome jaw, then I looked down his defined pectoral muscles, his flat, muscular stomach, and to those navy blue sweatpants. The stretchy pants could not hide his secret. He was already erect, a sizable bulge growing for me.

I gulped hard and licked my lips, then I was moving, walking toward him, walking into his room.

I was barely past him, barely through the doorway, and he grabbed me roughly from behind. He sank his lips down on the back of my neck. I sighed and collapsed into him. His hands were everywhere at once, on my breasts and my hips and my legs. His cock pushed into me as he kissed my neck fiercely, holding me tight.

I twisted around within his arms, turning to face him, taking his mouth against mine. He growled against my lips and thrust his tongue into my mouth.

We were moving backwards, and I was pushed back against his bed. I closed my eyes and he yanked my panties off. The lights were on, the room bright.

Then he was on me, his jogging pants gone, the head of his cock against my opening.

I opened my eyes and found myself staring into his sapphire blue eyes.

He pushed into me, setting off the nerves around my opening like birthday cake sparklers. I moaned and tilted my head back, eyes closed.

He kissed my neck hungrily as he thrust in and out of me, going deeper and ever deeper, until he was completely inside me.

My body moved by instinct, my hips rising up to meet his.

He paused, just for a second, and I pushed him off me, onto his back.

He opened his mouth to say something, but I was astride him in a second, guiding that thick, hard cock back in. He filled me, right where I wanted him. As I rocked back and forth, I pulled my nightshirt off over my head so I was naked.

His gaze traveled over me appreciatively, both of us warm and golden in the light of the bedside lamps.

I felt myself starting to come, almost there. I adjusted my position, getting down on my elbows. My breasts rubbed against the hot flesh of his chest, and I ground down hard against him, rubbing my clit against the firm flesh at the base of his cock.