Olivia Manson plans to confront her husband and his lover at a key party held at a lovely estate. What she did not expect to find was their congenial host, Cole Custer, dead on the floor of the library. While being questioned, Olivia and Detective Brandon Lock find themselves in a compromising position. As things fall apart and marriages crumble, she suspects she might have found the man of her dreams.
“Oh, my goodness.” I’d dropped the towel, but thankfully, it was dim enough that Detective Lock could not see me. I’d just barely put it in place again, when I bumped into him, his hands connecting with my shoulders. “I—oh, sorry.”
“It’s darker than hell.”
“It is.” We were surprisingly close. My senses were inundated with his aftershave, which gave off a woodsy and citrus aroma. “Wonder when they’ll come back on again?” His fingers pressed into my skin. The touch was entirely unexpected, but…it felt rather nice. “Do you think I’m a bad person for going behind my husband’s back?”
“You said he was cheating.”
“He is. She’s here too. It’s Wendy Pike. You should really grill her about it. Make her totally uncomfortable. She deserves it.”
“You sound vindictive.”
“I might be. I hate her.”
“That’s an awfully strong emotion.”
“She’s destroying my marriage.”
“Don’t you think your husband might be playing a part in that as well?”
“I’m sorry you’re going through this.”
His concern was bewildering. “T-thank you.” He had yet to let go of me; his proximity was far too intimate, far too pleasing. “I usually don’t like cops. I’ve probably said all the wrong things. I’ve probably incriminated myself seven ways to Sunday.”
“You probably have.” There was a sultry quality to his baritone.
“Will you arrest me?”
“I might have to.”
For some reason, his threat didn’t alarm me. In fact, he moved even closer now, his grip was firm. I was only inches from his face, his cologne teasing me mercilessly. “Mr—detective. Um…I’m not sure what’s happening here…but—”
His lips covered mine, initiating a perplexing kiss. This wasn’t supposed to happen, was it? Was this an interrogation technique used on females only? Finding him utterly attractive and more than dangerous, I gave in, nearly falling into him, while his arms encircled my back. The towel was history in that moment, landing at my feet. I’d never kissed a stranger before, and I hadn’t planned on this. Now that it was upon me, I found myself enjoying every second of his full, moist lips, his inquisitive tongue, and the way he groaned when I moved against him.
His hands drifted down my back, cupping my buttocks, lifting me onto a hard cock, hidden behind his pants. “Oh, Jesus,” he uttered.
He picked me up, while I wrapped my legs around him, as we stumbled towards the bed. Things had escalated rapidly, taking a decidedly erotic turn. I landed beneath him; his lips were on my neck, biting and kissing, while he fumbled with his pants, undoing the belt, lowering the zipper. Because of the darkness, he was mostly in shadow, but wherever my fingers touched him, I felt heat and sinew. He was in fine shape; his muscles were firm and his stomach taut. A hand fell upon on my thigh, fingers sliding inwards, grazing my pussy. In the space of a few seconds, the encounter had transformed into a fire that now blazed out of control. His cock pressed to my sodden entrance, and, as he groaned, he slid deep, filling me to the balls.
“Oh, my…God!” I flung my head back onto the bed, surrendering completely to a stranger, who more than likely thought I was a suspect. The questioning had begun innocently enough, but this was truly shocking. “Is this really happening?” I sounded breathless.
“Yes,” he rasped, thrusting, pressing into me.
My clitoris felt huge, engorged with arousal. I wrapped my legs around him, drawing him nearer. “Mr—Brandon…ooohhh…”
“You can blame it all on me…later,” he rasped. “You’re one beautiful woman. Jesus, fuck!”
I lifted my hips to match his thrusts, reveling in the feel of him inside of me. He drove all the way to my womb, massaging every silken inch of my tunnel. I’d not wanted to have sex with any of the men at the party tonight, but this man, this masculine hunk of testosterone, he was all mine.
“None of the above.”
“Oh, thank…God.” I clung to him, locking my ankles. “Oh, yes. Fuck me!” I dug my fingernails into his buttocks, feeling hints of perspiration. He thrust almost relentlessly, my body tensing, preparing for a blistering orgasm. “Oh, yes! More! Oh, God…it’s so good!” I moaned deep in my throat, shuddering beneath him. He gave me no quarter. Thrusting vigorously, his breath was raspy in my ear.