Authors: Michele Bardsley
“I let my sex brain take over my logical brain. You told me about the Cupid Club yesterday morning, and boom! I invited Adam to meet me there less than eight hours later.” Torie mulled over those thoughts. “Huh. That was super impulsive—even for me.”
Daphne put a hand on her shoulder and squeezed. “You do like him, though, right?”
Torie nodded. “I’m attracted to him. Big time.”
“There you go! Besides, it’s not a bad thing to have some fun. Of the horizontal variety. Or the vertical. Or the upside-down chandelier-swinging kind.”
“You know how long it’s been since I’ve had that type of fun?” Torie shook her head and laughed ruefully. “I can’t remember.”
“Getting through the death of your parents takes a toll. And so is learning that you are the only scion of the wealthy family who founded this lovely seaside town.”
“You forgot the part where my grandmother is also the town terror.”
“That’s why I want to be her when I grow up.”
Torie laughed. “Yeah. Me, too.” She shouldered her purse and paused. “I can’t thank you enough for your help, Daphne. You helped me get settled in to the town and get the business up and running faster than I thought possible.”
“Ah, yes. I am amazing, aren’t I?”
“It’s your modesty that impresses me the most.” Victoria laughed as she held open the door for Daphne. After her new friend exited, Torie turned off the office lights and then locked up.
“You’re going to wear a mask tonight?” asked Daphne.
“Definitely. But I really don’t have a va-va-voom outfit.”
“No worries, doll. I have just the thing.”
“YOU WANT MY wife to come on to another guy?” Eros eyed his mother, who’d clearly gone insane. They sat in a back booth at the Manzana Café conversing over coffee and, ironically enough, apple pie.
“Don’t be so dramatic, darling. Psyche’s job will be to push our Prince Charming into his true love’s arms.”
Eros shared a look with Psyche, his beautiful wife of several millennia. Her eyes sparkled with mischief and she offered him a bemused smile. “Isn’t that what we do?” she asked.
He kissed the upturned tip of Psyche’s nose. “It doesn’t mean I have to like Mother’s schemes.”
“It’s hardly a scheme,” said Aphrodite. “More like a—causal situation.”
Eros lifted a brow. His mother offered him her most innocent expression as she delicately nibbled pie off the fork.
“Daphne’s befriended our dear Miss Hunton and gotten her on-board with Cupid Club. Once she and Adam make sweet, sweet love—the deal should be sealed.”
“Mother, are you sure about this sex club idea?”
“Drastic measures are in order. Until we find the apple, we have to do what we can to keep human romantic love alive. Even if that means hosting sexual liaisons at every opportunity.” She put the fork onto her empty plate then took a napkin to dab at her lips. “Besides, buying the old apple farm allows us to search the property without having to answer questions or be sneaky.” She paused. “That is, sneakier than usual.”
“It would be just like Nemesis to hide it among a thousand other apples,” said Psyche.
“Well, she is the epitome of vindictive bitch. Searching the trees, the ground, and the storage sites is work beyond endurance.” Aphrodite looked down at empty pie tin. “The masking spell she used is so strong I can’t even get a whiff of magic apple.”
Eros draped his arm around Psyche’s shoulder and she snuggled closer. She smelled like sugary vanilla and he knew, from delicious repeated experience, she tasted just as sweet. “Okay,” he said. “So, we help you get this couple together—”
“Don’t forget I had the Tingle,” interrupted Aphrodite. “These two are meant to be. And Nemesis’s stupid curse isn’t going to keep me from making love matches.”
“I’m not judging your love-matching abilities. But our efforts to track the apple have gotten us nowhere. We need help.”
Aphrodite narrowed her gaze. “I know where you’re going with this. No.”
“Mom—”
“No, Eros. Hephaestus is
persona non grata
. Understand?”
Eros reluctantly nodded. His wife reached down and squeezed his thigh in a show of comfort. It was also her subtle way of saying, “Cool it.” Eros drew in a steadying breath. His mother’s stubbornness, especially when it came to her own love life, was legendary in Olympus circles. “Even if Victoria and Adam are love match of the century—and we manage to save other relationships in Broken Arrow—none of it will matter if we don’t find the apple and permanently remove the curse.”
Aphrodite sighed. She leaned back and clasped her hands on the Formica table. “Let’s exhaust all our apple-tracking options before reaching out to others.”
“Of course,” soothed Psyche. “Why don’t you tell us what you have in mind for tonight?”
VICTORIA ASSESSED HER barely-there teddy in the floor-length mirror attached to her closet door. Hmm. She could live with the way her breasts were showcased, held up by the flimsiest of lace. And the thong was okay, too. The little white lace skirt covered her ass. Barely. Even the mask was okay—it didn’t feel uncomfortable or itch, which was good considering she might be wearing the thing all night.
No. The calf boots were the real problem although the three-inch heels gave her some much needed height.
“I think this outfit says, ‘I’m a slutty snowflake.’”
“Short and stout,” sang Daphne, her pink head popping up next to Victoria’s shoulder. “Here is your handle...and whoa, look at that spout!”
“You’re a pervert.”
“You have no idea.”
Victoria’s gaze returned to her reflection—and to the boots. “Maybe I should switch to high heels.”
“No way!” said Daphne. “The boots make the whole outfit. What little there is of it.”
“On the up side, it’ll be easier to identify my body after I freeze to death.”
“I’m loaning you a full-length mink. You’ll be warm, trust me. And you won’t need that coat once you get to your room at the club.”
“Right. The room.” Panic fluttered in Victoria’s stomach. Ohmigawd. I’m gonna have hot sex with Adam Redmont. She kept staring at the sexy image reflected in the mirror. She’d dressed for the dark-haired man with the blue, blue eyes, who called her an angel and kissed until she forgot her own name. “You know, skipping the whole dating part and getting into the good stuff seems very ass-backwards.”
“It’s more like eating dessert first. And who doesn’t like dessert?”
Torie loved dessert. And Adam was definitely the lickable kind of yummy. Maybe she should stop worrying about … oh, everything—and just enjoy the evening with all its delicious possibilities.
In just those few moments they’d had together on New Year’s Eve, Adam had made her knees quake and her body sing. With his lips and his words, he’d made her want, made her need…
No one had ever inspired such carnal feelings. The mere thought of Adam dragging his fingertips across her flesh made her shudder in anticipation.
Torie squared her shoulders and thrust out her boobs in a show of sex-me-up confidence. She wasn’t going to chicken out.
“Ready?” asked Daphne.
“As I’ll ever be.”
ADAM SAT AT the bar sipping a microbrew and waiting for the lovely “T.” The interior of the once dilapidated barn had been converted into a space that rivaled most five-star hotels. Marble floors. Bronze walls. Lush furniture. The polished cherry wood counter gleamed under his beer bottle. He felt guilty about putting his fingerprints all over it—like he was messing up somebody’s fancy house.
He was glad that the Cupid Club was far enough away from town to discourage people from doing drive-by judgments. Unfortunately, nothing was safe from away from wagging tongues of local gossips.
A tall, lithe woman, dressed in head-to-toe black leather, approached him. Her bodice showcased an impressive set of DD’s. She wore a cat mask, complete with ears and whiskers. Her blonde hair was loose and drifted over her shoulders like spun gold. She held a whip in one hand and a champagne flute in the other. “My, my, my...aren’t you luscious.”
Adam offered a smile. “Thanks. You, too.”
She sat next to him and placed her champagne glass on the bar. “What brings you to the Cupid Club?”
“A rendezvous with a mysterious lady.”
“Are you being coy?” She tapped the whip’s handle on his thigh. “This place is all about rendezvous with mysterious ladies. But you don’t have to flirt and drink your way into somebody else’s bed.” Her lips curved into a wicked smile. “You just have to ask.”
Adam peered at her. She was stacked. And blonde. And willing. Yet, he knew this woman wasn’t T. There was something too glossy about her—perfect in a way that made him think of plastic surgeons and rejuvenation spas. And while she smelled good the scent was foreign and, if he were honest, off-putting.
“You’re not her,” he said.
She leaned back, her smile dimming. She was obviously surprised he hadn’t taken the bait she’d thrown at him. “How do you know I’m not the woman for you?”
Adam wasn’t sure how to respond at first. Why in the hell would any breathing man turn down this vixen? It didn’t make sense. But no was still his answer. “I’m sorry,” he said. And he was. “You’re lovely—you really are.”
“But I’m not her.”
“Right.”
Cat Woman sighed. “She’s a lucky girl.” She picked up her champagne glass and stood. “Good luck. I hope she’s everything you want.”
Adam watched her saunter off then he returned to his beer. He took a long swallow. Wow. He was probably crazy for turning down a sure thing.
“Well, she was a little catty.”
“Yeah. You could say that.” Adam turned and found another blonde sitting next to him. Her brown eyes twinkled behind her white half-mask. Her white-lace teddy offered a view of mouthwatering cleavage and the hem of her tiny lace skirt showed just enough of her inner thighs to make his fingers twitch. The white knee-high boots completed the outfit—and damn, nearly drove him out of his mind with pure, animal lust. An image of this little morsel naked underneath him, those boots wrapped around his waist as he plunged into her sweet, tight heat. Adam’s heart stuttered as desire roared through him—and right into his hardening cock.
“T?” he asked hoarsely.
“It’s me.” She smiled. “I’m happy you decided to meet me. What should I call you?”
“Ad—uh, A. Call me A.”
Adam hadn’t been able to decide between formal or casual so he combined the two with a nice green Polo shirt tucked into faded Levi’s. He wore his most comfortable black boots—and had even put on the socks without holes in ‘em.
She leaned forward, a slim, pale hand toying with his wrist. Her smile drifted into a seductive curl. “What would you like to do now, A?”
“Everything,” said Adam hoarsely. “To you. With you.”
Chapter 4
THE GORGEOUS BLONDE slid off the chair. “I have a private room upstairs.”
Adam paid the bar tab and grasped her hand. Threading his fingers through hers, he held tight while she led him up a flight of stairs. He spent an excellent thirty seconds studying T’s ass as she unlocked the third door on the right.
“This is the first time I’ve been here,” she admitted. “But I’m told the room has … um, everything needed.”
“Needed, huh?”
They entered the room, and Adam watched as she locked the door and flicked on the low lights. The walls were striped in various shades of purple. The king-sized bed and nightstands were white, as were the silky bedcovers. The carpet was thick pile of dark purple.
“Interesting color scheme.” Adam drifted around the room. He studied a couple of white bean bags tossed carelessly near the white mini-fridge.
“Yeah. I feel like I’ve fallen into a can of grape Crush.” T crossed to the fridge and opened it. “So...beer, wine, coolers, spring water, and—” she leaned in and opened the tiny topside freezer. “Juice pops.”
Adam’s lips hitched into a grin. “Juice pops?”
“They have lemon!” She took out the treat and unwrapped it. The mini-fridge door snicked shut.
She licked the pop from tip to base. “So good,” she murmured. She stroked the lemon ice with her tongue with such…expert enthusiasm, Adam felt his cock harden. When she took the entire pop into her mouth, he thought he might pass out.
He closed the space between them and plucked the icy treat from her hand.
“Take off your panties,” he demanded.
“If you want them off,” she said, spreading apart her legs and planting her booted heels firmly into the carpet, “then you do it.”
Her insolence sucker-punched him and made hot lust flare in his belly. The only thing he loved better than a woman who gave him what he wanted…was a woman who made him work for it.
With his free hand, he slipped three fingers under the wispy lace of her thong. She looked down at his hooked fingers then up at his face. “You’ve got to be kidding. That will never—”
With one quick yank, the material ripped and before she could finish her sentence, he dangled the shredded panties from his forefinger. Her stunned expression made him chuckle. “You were saying?”
“Been practicing that move, have you?”
“Maybe.” He knelt at her feet, oddly feeling like her captor and her slave, and leaned forward to scent her. The feminine spice of her sex was like ambrosia to him. He loved the taste and smell of woman. He couldn’t wait to put his lips and tongue on her tender flesh to suck and to kiss and to titillate.
Still holding the lemon pop, he leaned forward and kissed the spot just above the crease of her sweet spot. He dragged his tongue down the slender line, sighing in ecstasy as he nibbled the plump flesh. His lazy exploration continued until her thighs quivered and her hands fisted into his hair. Though Adam intended to make T crazy, his actions only served to stoke his own lust to an agonizing peak.
Finally…slowly…he traced her sweet, swollen flesh with the melting lemon pop. She gasped, but didn’t protest. As the yellow juice pearled on her skin he eagerly licked off the drops.
“That’s cold,” she murmured. He looked up and noted with satisfaction that her eyes were closed and her face was flushed.
“You feel good. Oh!” Her breathy little moans turned into a cry of pleasure. He dropped the lemon pop and held onto her ass with both hands. Her orgasm was so strong, he felt the pulsations. A minute later, she broke free of his grasp and stumbled backwards.