His Final Seduction Read online

  “Let me see…” She scanned her flattop screen and punched buttons on the keyboard. “There are three single rooms available, one bi-quad room and one triple room being cleaned right now.”

  He glanced back at Sydney and opened himself up to her emotions. A single masseur room didn’t fit the fire of a woman brazen enough to pleasure a man’s balls, then follow that up with a vibrator as she sucked his cock. No, a woman that sure in her sexuality could handle more than one set of hands on her. The bi-quad room, on the other hand—four sets of hands, two male, two female—might be a little too much for her reemerging desire to handle.

  “Is the triple room male or female?”

  She glanced at the screen again. “Male, sir. Ramon, Felix and Estefan will be attending to your needs.”

  Not the masseurs he would have chosen for himself—his favorites were Alejandra and Havana—but this wasn’t for him. “Very good. We’ll take it.”

  She nodded. “As I mentioned, it’s being cleaned, but it shouldn’t be more than a few minutes. In the meantime, I will get you two set up in the changing room, if you’d like.”

  “That’ll be fine.” He turned and grasped Sydney’s hand. Even though uncertainty painted her face, she came to him without question.

  An unfamiliar sensation flowed from her hand to his, and an unnamed emotion followed it, something much stronger than lust. He ignored it. “They’re cleaning our room now, Syd, but Bren is going to take us to a room where we can change.”

  “Change?” Her left eyebrow cocked toward the vaulted ceiling. “I’m hardly wearing anything as it is. How much more do I need to take off to get a massage?”

  His eyes traversed the cut and layers of the dress he’d picked out from the club’s boutique. “I’ll be with you the entire time. Nothing’s going to happen that you don’t want.”

  “But how will you know?” Her arms came around his waist, betraying the amount of faith she really placed in him. In ways he didn’t want to admit, it pained him, because he didn’t deserve her trust. “It’s not like you can read my mind.”

  “Maybe.” His hand dipped down her nearly bare back and skimmed the first hint of hidden flesh. He liked the way she softened against him. “But I can read the other parts of your body that tell more than your mind.”

  Bren strode around the front desk, holding two satin robes in her arms, one pale purple, one blood-red. “If you’ll follow me…”

  Tugging Sydney close, he followed his employee down a long door-lined corridor. Sconces hung at even intervals, tossing light back and forth along the passageway. Seascape photos decorated the pale blue walls, including ones he’d taken from his private beach.

  Several years back, he’d paid to send his niece to France to study interior design. To pay him back—plus give her some experience on her résumé—she’d decorated all the new rooms and sections he’d added on two years ago, which included the massage additions.

  The club needed an additional expansion, but the island’s limited space hindered his plans. He’d toyed with the idea of burrowing into the hills on the west side of the island. His mind went wild with ideas of primal, primitive parties in hundreds of connecting caves and niches. He could imagine Sydney dancing naked against him, gyrating her body to the beat of tribal drums as he touched her…

  Reality stopped his fantasy short. Neither of those things would ever happen, not with the contract looming. The pact he’d made with Giselle had dictated every decision he’d made the past year. If he’d been able to form one coherent thought at the time, he never would have agreed to the deal. He’d rather have died, but to break the contract now would bind him to Giselle for the rest of eternity. He’d take a year of servitude to an eternity any day, at least that had been his opinion before learning of the deadly stipulation…before meeting Sydney.

  “All right.” Bren pushed open a white door and stepped inside. He and Sydney followed as his employee hung the robes on a hook on the back section of the small room. “When the room is ready, someone will knock on the door to my right.” She motioned with her hand. “Is there anything else I can do for you before I leave?”

  He shook his head then looked at Sydney. “Is there anything you need?”

  Besides a reality check?

  Maybe for someone to pinch her because things were getting…odd. The room they stood in was a stark contrast to the beauty and splendor of the rest of the resort. Bare-white walls surrounded them, and the cubbyhole room had no furnishings except for the row of hooks where their robes hung, if they could even be called furnishings.

  She managed a quick shake of her head and, apparently satisfied, the other woman walked out, locking the door behind her.

  Damien shrugged out of his shirt and Sydney was instantly transfixed by his broad chest and shoulders. Even after several hours of indulging in those muscles, she still yearned for more contact.

  “It shouldn’t be long before the room is ready.” He unhooked the red robe from the wall, placed his shirt on the now-vacant hook. “And each booking is only an hour and a half, so we should be ready.”

  He flipped the top button of his pants, and Sydney’s libido kicked into gear again. Damien naked—especially the thought of him getting that way—seemed to have that affect on her.

  Without questioning anything else, she took her robe from the wall hook and, facing the wall, started undressing. Damien’s laughter made her turn back to him. “What?”

  “After all we’ve done this evening, you’re hiding your body away from me now?” Shaking his head, he took a step toward her, reached for the buttons of her dress and tugged. The material loosened around her body and slithered down, catching on her bent elbows. “Why?”

  She shrugged, dropped her arms. The material pooled at her feet. The panties quickly followed, freeing some of the impulses she’d beaten back down after her and Damien’s adventures in the restaurant and supply closet. She was losing control of her body again. “It’s just who I am, I guess.”

  “No, it’s not.” His right index finger drew lazy circles around her breasts but made no direct contact with the two mounds. “A woman whose body responds to stimulation like yours is a woman sure in her sexuality.” The hand dropped down the front of her belly and found the curls hidden between her thighs. “At least a woman who used to be.” Sure fingers eased apart the folds of her labia and slid between her lips, rubbing along the top and sides of her nub. “Maybe I can help you find her again.”

  You already have…

  His words burrowed deep inside her soul and helped unearth the woman she thought she’d buried a year ago. Riding her reawakening impulses, she locked an arm around his neck, lifted her right leg and rubbed the inside of her knee along the outside of his thigh. His questing fingers took advantage of the widened space, sliding deep into her heat, searching, probing.

  A knock on the inside door broke the erotic spell Damien commanded over her with the slightest touch. She started to bring her leg down, but his gripping hand stopped her, held her legs open to his touch.

  “I’m not nearly finished with you yet, Sydney James. Come in!”

  Again, she tried to force her leg toward the ground, but his hold remained firm. Shit. An employee was about to walk through that door, and here she was, standing naked in the room, the club manager fingering her. Not exactly a situation she wanted people seeing. Damien, on the other hand, didn’t seem to mind.

  Mr. Playgirl—the man who’d told the woman at the front desk to upgrade her room—stepped through the door. He wore the same type of tiny shorts he had earlier. The tan-toned-skin-revealing epidemic down here was in full swing.

  “We’re ready whenever you are, Mr. Blake.” Hot-N-Sexy gave her a half smile. “By the look of things, I’d say you’re enjoying your visit so far, Ms. James.”

  Bastard.

  “Thank you, Ramon. We’ll be there in a moment.”

  Damien interrupted the comeback forming in her mind and twisted his fingers deep
er into her pussy. Sydney bit her lip to keep from moaning aloud. She wished he would stop doing that…wait, she really didn’t.

  “Yes, sir.” Ramon nodded, let his eyes roam the area where his boss’ hand played, then walked from the room, leaving the door wide open.

  When they were alone, Sydney punched Damien in his chest, but there was hardly any force behind the blow. “Would you kindly extricate your hand from…” She looked down her torso to where his fist moved in a gentle twisting, thrusting motion. “From where it is.”

  “Why?” His thumb slid up and pressed against her clit. “Your body is enjoying it.”

  “No. It’s not.”

  “Your moist pussy would beg to differ.”

  As if to prove his words true, he slid his fingers from her moist center then lifted the hand to his mouth. Her juices coated his skin, and she couldn’t deny the erotic pleasure of knowing it was her wetness there and not another woman’s.

  hhh

  Damien didn’t mind sitting back and enjoying the show while his employees massaged Sydney. One man worked on Sydney’s calves and feet, another worked the muscles on the opposite leg, while the third smoothed away the tension in her neck and shoulders. They’d started in the middle of her back and worked the stress outward, but when they started on her front, they would mirror those moves and work all that tension toward the center of her body.

  How would she react when they started to soothe away the ache he sensed mounting in her body? Would she shy away, seeking his protection? Or would she simply open her legs and let the three men work her until she screamed?

  The Sydney from the restaurant wouldn’t hesitate for a second, but the Sydney he’d walked into the massage room with might need some more coaxing. Either way, he was sure he would have a wonderful time when it finally happened.

  The simmering in his loins burned hotter than it had with any of the other women he’d ever brought here, and he couldn’t explain why. Actually, he didn’t want to explain why. Letting any sort of emotion other than lust into the equation was bound to be fatal.

  Literally.

  But the soft coos and moans she made while the three men rubbed her down were more magical than the nature-filled sounds he’d always relished when he sat on his deck and watched the sun lower into the Caribbean Sea.

  The masseur working Sydney’s shoulders moved to the opposite side, and Damien leaned in and placed a kiss at the apex of her arm. “You appear to be enjoying yourself.”

  A lazy smile spread over her face, but her eyes remained shut. “You said I would, didn’t you?”

  “That I did.” He kissed her shoulder again, inching closer and closer to her jaw. “But I have to admit…I’m really enjoying the show.”

  “The show?” Her smile grew and so did his desire to claim her again. “Is that what this is? Just a means for you to get your jollies off?”

  “Not exactly.” He sucked her earlobe into his mouth and worked the soft flesh between his tongue and teeth for an all-too-brief moment. “I’m more worried about your jollies than mine.”

  Before she responded, Ramon’s deep voice interrupted their banter. “If you’re satisfied, Ms. James, we’ll begin on your front.”

  “Very satisfied,” she murmured, reaching for the towel.

  “You don’t need that,” Damien said with a smile. “Don’t you want all your body massaged?” Her answer surprised him.

  “By you, yes.” She ran her index finger down the center of his chest and buried her fingers in his curly hair. “But not them.”

  God, this woman was to-die-for sexy, a thought—given his current situation—that wasn’t a good thing. He forced a smile to cover his unease. “All in good time, novia. All in good time.”

  Sydney didn’t quite know how to feel. Here she was, lying buck naked on a bed with three gorgeous men rubbing some floral-scented oil all over her body and another god-of-a-man watching. And she was enjoying the hell out of it. She felt scandalous and just a wee bit like an ancient Greek goddess and, unable to stop the impulse, she splayed her legs wider.

  The two men who’d started at her feet now worked the area just past her knees. With each swipe of gentle pressure, all her worry worked its way closer and closer to her burning center, which ached almost as badly as it had the first time Damien had touched her.

  Speaking of Damien…

  He lay on his side next to her. Occasionally, he’d help massage her breasts, although he spent more time on her nipples, squeezing and pinching the peaks until they bulged, as ready for attention as her clit was right now.

  “Do I get some one-on-one massage time with you later?” She was amazed her voice sounded so…normal.

  He scooted a bit closer to her. “Soon, novia.”

  Her mind latched onto his final word…novia. He’d called her that a couple times. “Novia? What’s it mean?”

  His answer was hesitant, and for a moment she thought he might not tell her. “It means sweetheart in my native language.”

  “Which is…?”

  “Spanish.” He gave her nipple another twisting squeeze. “I’m Cuban, but I’m fluent in three other languages as well…English, French, German. I find it comes in handy given the nature of my business.”

  He continued his attention to her breast, slow, calculated nips that worked in harmony to the six hands making her pussy quiver. “Say something sexy to me in French.”

  “Like what?”

  “Anything.”

  His breath misted hot against her nipples, and his words, his cadence burrowed inside her body, setting off little explosions of sensation. “Tu es très sexy.”

  “Mmm. What’s—what’s it mean?”

  “You’re very sexy.”

  He kissed a fiery trail along her collarbone, and she squirmed, so close to orgasm she could scream. And no one was even touching the parts of her body most desperate for release. “More…”

  “J’aime quand ton corps touché le mien.” He sucked her bottom lip between his teeth then worked his way to her ear. “I love it when your body touches mine. Je veux te baiser…”

  She may not be fluent in French, but that vulgarity was familiar to her. She’d learned it at a club while she’d been vacationing in Paris: I want to fuck you.

  She wanted to beg him to make good on his words, but massaging hands reached her inner thighs, the top niches of her pelvic area. She sucked in a harsh breath, not sure how much longer she would last before the need for release strangled her.

  “Damien,” she moaned, reaching for him. His big hand closed around hers, and she held on for all she was worth. This ride was about to get bumpy.

  “That’s right,” he crooned. “Give in to what you want, Syd, what your body needs.”

  Her knees fell wide and she sucked her lip between her teeth as two sets of hands stalled along her inner thighs, one set on her mons.

  “Our rules,” Mr. Playgirl said, “require us to obtain your permission before continuing with the massage. Would you like us to continue?”

  “I’ll fucking kill you if you don’t!” The answer came instinctively. Like anyone would want them to stop at this point? Who the hell made up that damn rule?

  “As you wish.”

  The man who’d been massaging her upper body eased his fingers into her curls and pushed open her labia. He swirled two—three?—fingers into the wetness leaking from her slit, then with gentle, circular pressure, moved his attention to her screaming clit.

  “Mmmm…”

  Almost simultaneously, two probing fingers slid into her drenched cunt and quickly found the sensitive spot on the upper side of her pussy, but the third hand gave her pause.

  It slid down the sensitive area between her vagina and anus and pressed against her tight asshole in a series of gentle pushes. Was he asking permission?

  She’d never been a fan of ass play, but the carnal desire to push her boundaries a little more was potent and undeniable. Now that she’d fallen off the sexual wag
on, she wanted to indulge in every available luxury.

  She relaxed her clenched ass, which wasn’t an easy task considering how the sexual tension had her riding the apex of a cresting wave.

  One gentle nudge, then another, and one long, thick finger eased into her tight hole. The awkward sensation wasn’t exactly enjoyable, but the added pressure, the extra friction, sent an orgasmic tidal wave tumbling down on top of her, and she screamed.

  Her body arched against the men’s onslaught, and her hips bucked in an uncontrolled rhythm. The paralyzing pulsing inside her body beat in a staccato rhythm, and she held firmly to Damien’s hand, afraid if she let go she’d drown in the white-hot sensations drenching her body in long, crashing currents.

  A pair of lips attached to her nipple, and she knew without opening her eyes it was Damien. The extra sensation prolonged her peak but, despite all the painful pleasure, the new heights she’d scaled, the one thing she wanted more than anything else was the one thing he’d denied her.

  His kiss.

  Chapter Six

  Damien sat at his desk and stared at the list of things he needed to accomplish, but the only thing he could concentrate on was Sydney James. After leaving the massage parlor last night, he’d wanted to take her home—to his house—and make love to her until his conscience freed him from his guilt and he could picture a future where she stayed with him…

  But he couldn’t. Not with Giselle holding his future in the palm of her dainty, depraved hand.

  A knock sounded across the room and he glanced up. Margaret stood in the doorway. He motioned her in, his eyes drawn to her hot pink bikini. “What is it?” he barked, immediately lowering his gaze to the papers he’d been staring at for the past hour.

  “Nothing.” She stopped beside him and swiveled his chair until his eyes paralleled her breasts. They were nice breasts too. “I just came to see if you needed some…cheering up. You’ve been brooding in here all morning, and that normally correlates to some friendly fun for me.”