His Magick Touch (10 page)
Epilogue
Devon lapped at Raina’s gushing pussy juices, flicking his tongue in and out of her slit to collect all of her unique spicing. Her body writhed on top of his, her pussy squirming against his mouth.
She wrapped her arms around his hips and fondled his balls. Her touch enthralled him. He dipped his finger in the ceremonial oil then worked it into her ass—her immediate response being to take more of his pole into her mouth as she sucked his dick.
He had never been so attuned with anyone else’s body, such a perfect sexual match. No one’s orgasms had ever excited him as much as hers. Each of her orgasmic contractions sent a rush through his body.
Her body…her moans…her actions…he felt her rapidly approaching orgasm, felt her teetering on the edge. And he was with her every step of the way. He wanted to come with her, experience the ecstasy of simultaneous orgasm. He didn’t hold back on his own rush toward release as he sucked her clit while wiggling his finger in her ass. It took only a few more seconds before the spasms shuddered through his body and semen shot into her mouth. And an instant later, her orgasmic convulsions claimed her body. Delicious rhapsody totally in sync.
Her asking for his guidance in the nuances of sex magick followed by a two-day intense sexual encounter. Two bodies more compatible than he had ever experienced. Only two days yet the emotional upheaval in his life could not be measured and certainly could not be denied. He truly loved her.
And because of her, he had been able to resolve his pursuit of Miranda without betraying the credo that embodied all he believed.
He nibbled on her clit with his lips, enjoying the remaining moments of their shared orgasm. She finally rolled off of him, turned around and snuggled into his embrace. He placed loving kisses on her forehead and even on the tip of her nose.
“It’s a good thing we had that big breakfast this morning before meeting Miranda since we didn’t have any lunch.” Raina seductively stroked his cock. “We didn’t quite make it to the art museum, either.”
“I know.” He teased her nipple, manipulating the pebbled bud with his fingers. “And if we keep this up,” he leaned forward and placed a kiss on each nipple, “I’ll have worked up quite an appetite for dinner.”
“So…the only question is whether we go out or dine in?” She continued to stroke his cock as it responded to her touch.
Devon glanced at her hand wrapped around his dick. “I thought he was tired and needed to rest,” his voice teased, “but he seems to be responding to what you’re doing.”
She batted her eyelashes and adopted an innocent look. “Is that a bad thing?”
“He obviously finds you as irresistible as I do, my love.”
“Mmm…
my love
. I like the sound of that.”
“How about the sound of this? I have been honored with a request to open and close the Samhain celebration. I would very much like for you to be my special guest.”
“That would be my honor. Thank you.”
“And then we can talk about the future…about
our
future together. We have plans to formulate, decisions to make.”
The glow of utter and complete happiness covered her face. “I like the sound of that, too.”
About the Author
I'm currently living in Kansas, but have lived most of my life in the Los Angeles area.
For 20 years, I worked in television production before becoming a full time writer. For many years photography was my avocation and that's what started me writing—non-fiction magazine articles to accompany my photographs. The writing eventually segued into fiction and novels.
Visit Samantha at
www.samanthagentry.blogspot.com
To chat with Samantha Gentry and other Wild Rose Press authors of erotic romance, join us at www.groups.yahoo.com/group/thewilderroses.
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Third Floor Encounter
Dani Foreman is determined to expose the secrets of the mysterious Third Floor club in order to secure her career as an investigative reporter. Problem? So far, many have tried but none gained access to the private club. An encounter with the sexy bartender might just be her way inside the club to discover the truth behind the rumors of orgies among the rich and powerful.
Mitch Sinclair is a man of many secrets, including owning the Third Floor, an exclusive sex club. He doesn't know who Dani is, but he does know she is not what she claims. His need to protect the secrets of Third Floor runs deep and very personal. But his attraction to Dani is strong and he must decide whether to trust her or compromise the single most important thing in his life.
Turn the page to read an excerpt.
Chapter One
Mitch Sinclair spotted her the moment she walked into the oceanfront Oasis Bar…a cool blonde type who looked so incredibly hot. Mid to late twenties, maybe five feet seven inches with a body that could have his cock standing at full attention with little effort. Long legs, a great ass, and firm uplifted breasts. A sensuous mouth begging to be kissed, lips he could visualize wrapped around his cock.
Dressed to entice with her bright red bikini, the bottom underneath white jogging shorts and the top partially covered by her unbuttoned short-sleeved shirt. She wore her hair in a French braid with the top feathered softly across her forehead and along the sides of her face. A gold chain encircled her trim ankle, and russet polished toenails, the same shade as her lipstick, peeked out from white leather sandals.
Very sexy, but not in a slutty
fuck me
way. There was a classy elegance about her that couldn’t be hidden, something that said she was trying to project an image that didn’t belong. She wasn’t one of the bar regulars. He had never seen her before, much to his regret. But he had every intention of seeing her again.
And preferably in bed.
When Bobby, the daytime bartender, called in sick an hour before the start of his shift, Mitch took it in stride. He enjoyed the occasional turn behind the bar on the ground floor of the three-story building and the opportunity to socialize with the regulars. Even though the employees and the bar regulars knew Mitch as the manager, there was a lot more they didn’t know. Such as the fact he owned the three story building and the businesses it housed, including the mysterious and controversial private club known only as
Third Floor
.
The desirable blonde sat on the end barstool, then took off her sunglasses. Sparkling blue eyes were surrounded by long dark lashes, a sight that definitely stirred his libido.
Mitch flashed his best smile. “Hello, pretty lady. Welcome to the Oasis Bar. I’ve never seen you here before.” A quick glance told him she wasn’t wearing a wedding or engagement ring.
She responded with a beautiful smile of her own. “That’s because I’ve never been here before.”
“I’ll have to figure out how to guarantee you’ll make this your regular hangout.” He placed a bar napkin in front of her. “What’s your pleasure?” He lowered his voice to a whisper. “And if you say
the bartender,
we’ll run away together…as soon as the night shift comes on duty. The owner probably wouldn’t take kindly to the bar operating on the honor system between now and then.”
“I’ll have a glass of chardonnay.”
He cocked an eyebrow, winked, and fixed her with a teasing grin. “You’re choosing a glass of wine over the bartender?”
She made an unsuccessful attempt to suppress her own grin. “For the moment.”
He liked the way she fell in with his teasing, participating rather than being offended. Humor was important to him when meeting a woman for the first time, along with intelligence and honesty…just three of several qualities he valued above good looks. He grabbed a bottle from the cooler, poured the wine, and set the glass on the napkin. “Anything else I can get for you while I’m here?”
She took a sip of her wine. “Speaking of the owner…is Leander Washington here? A friend asked me to say hello to him.”
All Mitch’s senses went on full alert.
Leander Washington
? That was his full name—Leander Mitchell Sinclair Washington. Very few people knew that Mitch Sinclair and Leander Washington were the same person. Certainly not anyone he had day-to-day contact with as
manager
or in his social or personal life. Leander was his father’s first name. A cold shiver told him how much he despised even the sound of the word. Sinclair was his mother’s maiden name. No one had a legitimate reason to be in the Oasis Bar asking for Leander Washington.
No one.
Especially in a manner indicating a social connection.
“Leander Washington?” He straightened and shot her a questioning look.
“Yes. The owner.”
Mitch grabbed a towel and wiped down a spot on the bar in an attempt to look casual. “Sorry, he’s not here. You a friend of his?”
“Uh, a friend of a friend.”
“He’s seldom here. That’s why he has a manager on the premises. What’s your name? I’ll leave him a note saying you stopped by.”
Something was wrong. He noted the way she awkwardly shifted her weight on the bar stool, her gaze nervously darting around the room rather than making eye contact with him. No question in his mind that she had some sort of hidden agenda, but what and why? Who was she and what did she really want?
“What’s your friend’s name? I can at least let Mr. Washington know that a friend of his was asking about him.”
“That’s okay. No big deal.”
She sounded
too
casual, as if trying
too
hard. She flashed a charming smile, but it appeared more forced than sincere.
“It’s not important. I’ll catch up with him some other time.”
The bartender’s unwavering gaze sent a tremor of uncertainty rippling across Dani’s skin. It was almost as if he could read her mind and had detected her deception. The one thing that had kept her from becoming the investigative reporter she wanted to be was that pesky streak of honesty she couldn’t control. She had a difficult time telling out-and-out lies to someone’s face. She was not a deceptive person by nature. Yet here she sat, telling brazen lies to a stranger and feeling very uncomfortable about doing it.
She gathered her determination. This could be the story that would break things wide open for her, and she couldn’t let it slip through her fingers. An exploitative type of tabloid exposé, something exaggerating the facts and slanting the story toward a specific angle with innuendo and half-truths, was not her style. She wanted to be a true investigative reporter offering up facts. And finding the secrets—the
real
secrets—of the mysterious Third Floor was worth the effort.
“We’re a very informal group here. I’m Mitch Sinclair, filling in today for the regular daytime bartender who’s out sick.” He stuck his hand out toward her. “And you are…?”
“I’m Danielle Foreman…Dani.” She hesitated a moment, then accepted his handshake.
The moment he clasped her hand in his, a sensual warmth flowed up her arm and through her body. Her attention had been drawn to him the second she walked into the bar. Ruggedly handsome features—
very
handsome. Certainly not the pretty boy type of looks that always struck her as too slick and usually came with a heavy dose of arrogance belonging to someone shallow. At least that had been her experience with the pretty boy type.
Mitch appeared to be in his mid-thirties with an athletic, well-toned body dressed in worn jeans, a tight T-shirt that showed off the sculpted planes of his muscular chest and broad shoulders…and five hundred dollar running shoes. Long legs that put him an inch or two over six feet. A golden tan that said he spent a lot of time outdoors. Intense green eyes and longish light brown hair with sun-bleached streaks, yet what appeared to be a stylist salon haircut. He wore an expensive scuba diver’s watch.
A guy who apparently worked part time as a fill-in bartender yet wore an expensive watch and running shoes with a high-end salon haircut? It didn’t make sense. Something was amiss. He wasn’t what he would have people believe.
She took another sip of her wine. She couldn’t afford to let this sexy stranger deter her from her goal—a determination she instinctively knew would require a major effort on her part. No question that he oozed a magnetic sex appeal, the type of talent that could give a girl multiple orgasms and have her begging for more.
Jeez…I’ve obviously been working too hard lately, no time for play or to meet any interesting men. Definitely too long since I’ve had a no-holds-barred, down-and-dirty hot fuck with an unbelievably sexy man. And Mitch looks like he more than qualifies. One of those hot, naked encounters you can’t get enough of. My vibrator eventually gets the job done, but it’s just not the same as the real thing.
She watched Mitch as he filled drink orders for three waitresses, allowing her gaze to drift over his body and finally settle on his ass.
My God, Dani, get your mind out of his pants and back on reality. You’re not the type to pick up a man in a bar and go for a quick fuck behind a closed bathroom door or in the back seat of a car in the parking lot no matter how horny you are.
She again allowed her gaze to drift across his body.
No matter how desirable he looks or how much he makes your pussy throb.
Mitch glanced around the bar, apparently checking to see if anyone else needed anything, then returned his attention to her. “Can I get you something to eat? Best hamburgers in town.”
“No, thanks. I had a late lunch a couple of hours ago.”
“Peanuts, pretzels, or popcorn?”
She couldn’t stop the laugh. “Do they pay you a bonus for getting rid of the stale bar snacks?”
His laugh joined hers. “Ah…if only it were so.” He winked. “But it’s an interesting thought. Maybe I should pass that on as a suggestion.”
His smile faded as he reached out and lightly touched her cheek, just a quick brushing of his fingertips against her skin but enough to pucker her nipples and dampen the crotch of her bikini bottoms beneath her jogging shorts. Her physical reaction to his touch both excited and shocked her.