The Temptation Trap, Complete Series (An Alpha Billionaire Club BBW Romance) (2 page)

A
dam was
silent on the ride home. So was I, though the sounds of my fidgeting filled the car. I couldn't sit still or stop thinking about being naked, Adam's skin on mine. I had an image stuck in my head of me bending over, braced on the couch or the kitchen table or the side of my bed, the skirt of my dress pulled up over my back while Adam took me rough and fast. Or slow and sweet. It didn't matter. Every time I put my body in his hands, he paid me back in pleasure. I was willing to follow his lead wherever it took us.

He parked the car in front of my building and came around to my door. It still felt odd to wait for him to let me out of the car. I'd never dated a man who insisted on opening my car door, or any door, really. Adam refused to have it any other way. The first time I'd preceded him through a door, he'd grasped my shoulders and set me firmly behind him.

I'd made a comment about his wanting the 'little woman' to take second place, annoyed at being treated like a second-class citizen. He'd scowled at me and told me it was a matter of safety and by going first out of the door, I was leaving myself exposed. Which was a weird thing for an app developer to think about, but he'd said he'd been in the military when he was younger, so maybe something stuck.

I humored him and let him open doors because I liked it. The downside of being a tall, smart, and outgoing female is that very few people worry about protecting you. It was undeniably nice to have a big strong man looking out for me, and I planned to enjoy it for however long it lasted.

He led me through the parking garage, his strong hand pressing against my lower back, the heat of his palm making my knees weak. By the time we were up the elevator and walking down the hallway to my apartment door, my heart was racing. I pulled my keys from my purse, and, as he always did, Adam took them and unlocked the door, using his tall body to herd me into my foyer. My hands reached up to unbutton my coat when he stopped me.

"Don't move," he said. "Close your eyes. Don't open them until I tell you to. Do you understand?"

At the sound of his deep, intense voice I trembled and squeezed my thighs together, my body swaying back towards him slightly as if the timbre of his words was a magnet. In truth, it was. He only spoke with that particular tone when he was about to get me naked, and it never failed to make me wet. Needy. And just a little desperate. In response to his question, I closed my eyes and nodded.

"If you open your eyes before I give you permission, I'll punish you." An involuntary shiver wracked my body. "Not that kind of punishment," he said, amusement coloring his voice. "The kind where you don't get an orgasm. Not for a long time. Maybe not at all."

That threat sent chills down my spine. He'd punished me before, but as he'd implied, I liked Adam's brand of punishment. Just like when he'd tied me up, and I'd gone off like a firecracker, the first time he'd spanked me had been explosive. At the first strike of his palm against my ass, I’d been affronted. No one hit me. Not ever. I’d tried spanking one time with an ex-boyfriend, but it had hurt and hadn't been the least bit arousing. After that, the idea of letting some guy hit me had been repellent.

Clearly, I hadn't been spanked by the right man. Adam knew what he was doing when he punished a woman. He'd started with light smacks, enough to sting, but not truly painful. By the time he spanked me as hard as my ex had, I'd been riding high on endorphins, and the flash of pain had pushed me that much closer to orgasm. Since then I’d welcomed any threats of punishment with a thrill of anticipation. It seemed, this time, Adam's intended punishment was something else. I didn't like the sound of being denied my orgasm.

I squeezed my eyes shut even harder. If I'd learned anything in the last month, it was that Adam wasn't kidding around when he gave an order. I didn't have to obey. But it was worth my while if I did. I felt Adam's hands on the buttons of my coat, the tug of the fabric, and the release of the garment as it fell open.

Hangers clicked as he hung the coat up. His heat was against my back, knuckles grazing the skin between my shoulder blades as he slowly lowered my zipper. The filmy green dress had a deep V in both the front and the back. Without the zipper to hold it together, it slipped down my shoulders and off my arms to pool around my hips. With an expert flick of his fingers, my bra was loose. I knew better than to shimmy it off. And I didn't have to. A swipe of Adam's hand and it was gone.

Without my bra to contain them, my breasts swayed with every breath I took, my nipples tight. I expected Adam to touch me, to feel his mouth or his fingers teasing my newly bared flesh. I was disappointed. Instead, his hands settled on my hips, pushing the light fabric of my dress to the ground where I could feel it pool around my feet. I didn't dare look, keeping my eyes tightly shut.

All that forced me to Adam's will were his words. He didn't need a blindfold. Adam’s desire that I obey was the only tool he required to compel my obedience. And that only made it hotter.

"Take off your underwear," he said, his words a growl in my ear, his breath hot on my cheek. I didn't have to see the fine tremble in my hands. I could feel them flutter against my hips as I hooked my fingers in the sides of my red lace thong and pushed it off. "Leave your heels on and step away from your clothes."

His hand closed on my elbow to steady me as I carefully slid my feet free of my sandals and took a step away, not wanting the narrow spike heel to catch in the fabric and trip me.

I stood there in the foyer of my apartment, naked except for my heels, my eyes closed, waiting for Adam's next command. He moved, circling me. I heard fabric rustle. Was he undressing? I imagined I could feel his eyes skating over my skin, touching me everywhere. It wasn't enough. I wanted more than his eyes. I wanted his hands. I wanted his touch. Needed him to take me out of myself, to drown my busy mind in pleasure.

I let out a shocked squeak when teeth closed over my earlobe and bit down, just hard enough to surprise but not hard enough to hurt. "Good girl," he said, kissing the earlobe he'd so recently bitten. "Such a good girl, Emma. Can you be good for a little longer?"

I made a sound in the back of my throat, somewhere between a squeak and a moan, nothing close to intelligible speech. Adam laughed, his lips grazing my throat as the sound vibrated against my skin. "Such a good girl," he said again.

In a whoosh, everything was upside down, Adam's strong arms around me as he lifted me, cradling me against his chest. The shock of sudden movement almost had me opening my eyes, and I squeezed them shut in self-defense. I didn't need my eyes to tell me he was taking me to my bedroom. My apartment wasn't that big – his first few steps took us past the kitchen and the living room.

Once in my room, Adam placed me carefully back on my feet, leaving his hands on my hips an extra moment until I'd steadied myself on my narrow heels. His hands landed on my shoulders, then slid down my arms until his fingers encircled my wrists. Those long fingers tightened, drawing my arms behind me, turning my hands palm to palm. His fingers pressed themselves over mine, weaving them together until my fingers were laced, clasped tight.

"Keep them just like that," he said. He stood behind me, and I heard fabric rustle once more, the thunk of his belt hitting the floor, a shuffle that might have been him toeing off his shoes. Then his skin was against mine, the tight beads of his nipples brushing my shoulders, the thrust of his erection against my lower back. Hot, hard, and silky. I wanted it.

Still, he barely touched me. His voice was almost inaudible when he said, "Spread your legs."

I did, widening my stance, opening my body to his. I was almost expecting it when I felt his palm between my shoulder blades, pushing forward with a gentle but undeniable pressure. I straightened my arms behind me, palms still pressed together, using them to help my balance as I slowly lowered my chest to the bed. I managed the feat with some grace and was glad I bothered to go to yoga every once in a while. Otherwise, I probably would've lost my balance and ended up looking like an idiot.

My cheek was hot against the cool linen of my duvet cover. Bent over like that the air flowed between my legs, reminding me how wet I was. He was taking too long, but I knew better than to complain. Not if I wanted him to fuck me anytime soon.

My nipples slid against the fabric, the contact a delicious tease. Adam's hand, still resting between my shoulder blades, trailed down my spine, stopping at the small of my back. He traced a figure eight with his fingertips, the light touch both too much and not nearly enough. Then both hands were at my hips, squeezing, molding my body before moving to do the same to the curves of my ass. My palms almost fell apart when a quick, light swat landed at the exact spot where my ass met my thighs. I jumped and gasped, but my eyes remained tightly closed, hands together behind my back.

"I think," Adam said, his voice heavy with promise, "my good girl deserves her reward."

Two fingers dipped between my legs, pushing past my entrance, spreading apart to stretch me open. I couldn't help thrusting back at him, earning myself another swat on my ass.

"Not yet," he ordered, and I tried to stay still. It was hard. Almost impossible. I needed him. My breath was coming in gasps, my heart pounding in my chest. I pressed my eyes shut, my hands together as if my obedience could compel him to give me what I wanted. Maybe it did, because the next thing I felt was his thick cock pushing into my pussy, stretching me open, filling me the way only Adam could.

I moaned at the pain-tinged pleasure. He was big, his cock thick and long. Sometimes he came into me gradually, with little thrusts, working his way in. And then there were times like this when I was wet enough for him to fill me in one long, slow thrust. Pressure and pleasure in one.

When he was seated to the hilt, I squeezed him, earning myself another smack. The flash of pain only gave more of a bite to the bliss of his cock in my pussy. I thrust against him, trying to take him a little deeper. Impossible when he was already in me to the hilt. But it was enough to goad Adam into action.

With a growl, he sank his fingers into my hips and began to thrust, his cock pounding into me, his balls swinging forward to smack my clit, driving me to the edge of orgasm in moments. I gasped for breath, my closed eyes and trapped hands suddenly mixing panic with the ever growing pleasure. Adam had blindfolded me before, but it had never been this intense.

Somehow blinding myself, voluntarily fixing my own hands behind my back and cutting off my sight, served to make me feel even more helpless than I'd been when Adam had done it. Everything inside me focused on the sensations between my legs. The tease of the duvet cover against my nipples, the harsh sounds of Adam breathing, my thudding heartbeat. When he released my hips and used my joined hands to pull me upright, I gasped a half scream, rising with him, suddenly off balance. He let go and covered my breasts with his hands, thrusting faster. I sobbed, wobbling on my heels, unsteady and skating the edge of orgasm.

"Open your eyes," he rasped. I did, disorientation flooding me as my eyes fought to adjust to the dim light in my bedroom. "Look," he demanded.

My gaze fastened on the mirror above my dresser on the opposite side of the bed, unable to take in what I saw. Adam, the corded muscles of his chest and arms standing out, knotted with tension, his big hands overfilled with my pale, soft breasts. His eyes burned into mine as they met in the mirror. My hair fell around us in sheets of red, my cheeks flushed a deep pink, my eyes glittering a midnight blue. Adam's hands twisted, and his fingers closed on my nipples, squeezing tightly enough to cause a heady mix of pain and fiery pleasure.

"Come," he whispered in my ear. "Come for me now."

In a rush of sharp, burning ecstasy, I did.

I
left
Emma passed out in her bed, her duvet pulled up to her chin, long hair spilling across her white sheets like a trail of flame. I’d almost fallen asleep myself. After I’d fucked her she’d slid onto her bed, her knees weak from the force of her orgasm. I might have been smug about it, but my own knees had been less than solid as I’d gone to the bathroom to deal with the condom. I needed her asleep to get to the next step of my plans, so I’d tucked myself into bed beside her, wrapping one arm around her waist and settling my hand against her breasts.

Emma might be a lying criminal, but she had stupendous breasts. Seriously amazing. Full. Soft, yet firm. Her whole body was like that- soft everywhere. Her hips, her ass, her stomach. Soft and round and perfect. There were no hard edges to Emma. At least not on the outside. For the first time, I wondered if I could help her get a lawyer when it all went down, find someway to keep her safe from the worst of the trouble coming her way.

I knew better than anyone that sometimes good people made stupid mistakes. I’d seen it too many times to count. No way Emma was rotten to the core. I’d sense it. I’d known people like that, empty and wrong. Soulless. That wasn’t Emma. There had to be a reason she’d steal from her company and sell their secrets for profit. I just hadn’t uncovered it yet.

I'd done a thorough background check on Emma when I'd taken the case. I hadn't turned up anything that explained why she would be involved in corporate espionage. Her life seemed fairly stable. She grew up in Southern California with two brothers, older, and one sister, younger. Her parents were retired, brothers in the military, sister in grad school. No one had any outstanding debt, except for a few student loans that were almost paid off. No extravagant purchases, no expensive health problems, no gambling, no drugs. Just normal people living normal lives.

I was missing something. I had to be. No one crossed the line into criminal behavior without a reason. Some people just got off on the thrill, but if that were the case, there would've been a clue. Speeding tickets or dangerous hobbies. Emma had plenty of interests outside of work, but they mostly involved taking classes, like the cooking class where we'd met, or hanging with her girlfriends giggling over wine or martinis. Nothing that gave any indication why she might wake up one day and decide to start stealing from her employer.

I'd run into situations like this before. The pieces of a puzzle weren't always clear at the beginning of a job. I was used to that. But it normally didn't take this long to figure out what the hell was going on. Laying in her bed, her soft, warm body tucked into mine, it was hard to imagine there would be an end. Eventually, maybe tonight, I’d find what I needed, and I’d walk away. My gut tightened at the thought. Whatever my mind had planned, my body sure as hell didn’t want to give up Emma.

I was drifting off beside her, the honeysuckle scent of her hair and her warm body lulling me into fantasies of luring her away from her life of crime when my brain kicked in. Despite the act I was putting on, I reminded myself, Emma Wright was not my girlfriend. She wasn’t my lover. She was a job. Worse, a target. I had a duty to my client to get my lazy, satisfied ass out of bed and find the evidence that would prove her guilt and get her out of his company. Repressing a sigh, I eased myself away from Emma, slipped from the bed, and grabbed my clothes off the floor, closing the door behind me.

After getting dressed, I started where I always did, with her briefcase. I checked every outside pocket, finding the same pack of tissues, lint, emergency sewing kit, and tin of mints that were always there. The inside was the same as ever, a mostly empty notebook, a plastic envelope file with personal papers, and her laptop. She never hid anything in the briefcase, at least not so far, but I checked it anyway. In my line of work, it pays to be thorough.

I moved on to my real target for the night. Emma’s laptop. Silently pulling it from the briefcase, I set it on the coffee table and flipped it open. I'd figured out her password the first night. Her father's birthday, not very secure. Once I’d broken into the computer, I'd made a quick copy of the hard drive and installed a program that would tell me what had changed. It saved me searching through the whole laptop every time. So far, there wasn't much of interest. A lot of nights she didn't even bother to bring it home, only when she thought she might have to answer emails from employees after hours.

For the first time in almost ten days, the program alerted significant changes in the file structure. My heart sped up, the thrill of the chase drowning out my conflicting feelings about Emma. This might be exactly what I was looking for. I opened the new files and scanned them, disappointed to find that they were nothing more interesting than explanations of the company’s medical and vacation benefits that had been updated the previous day.

Emma's job sounded both boring and annoying. From what she told me about her work, it seemed to me that she spent her days going over paperwork and listening to employees bitch about bullshit that wasn't Emma's problem. For the most part, she chose to find it amusing, retelling some of the complaints with a laugh instead of irritation. I wouldn't have been nearly as patient.

The Las Vegas branch of Sinclair security didn't have an official human resources department. That kind of stuff was handled by our office manager, a former Marine, who'd been injured in the field. He got the paperwork done, but nobody brought Billy whiny complaints about the coffee maker in the break room. If any one of my team ever complained about someone hurting their feelings, we'd run them out of the building.

Aside from the paperwork and the complaining employees, there were aspects of Emma's job she'd been reluctant to explain. It was those aspects that had my instincts on alert. That, and she seemed too young to head a department. She was only twenty-eight. Harper shipping wasn't a huge conglomerate, and the company only had one location, but there were over one hundred employees, and Emma had four beneath her. Just one more thing that didn't add up.

I flipped through the files as quickly as I could, looking for anything suspicious. Finally, I hit a folder buried among insurance manuals. It was new, when nothing else in that folder had been updated in months, and it was encrypted. Nothing too hard-core. Emma wasn't a hacker and from what I'd seen it didn't appear that she was working with one. I'm not a hacker either. Not exactly. But I had a few on my team, and they'd taught me just enough to get by.

I had the folder open a few minutes later, but I couldn't tell if it was useful. Spreadsheets with names numbers and addresses. I copied them to a USB drive I'd brought for that purpose, but I had a sneaking suspicion that I was looking at a list of employees and their confidential information. Not customer accounts, bids, logistical plans, or any other proprietary information that might be valuable enough to sell to a competitor. I’d check it, but so far this search, like all the others, was a bust.

At the almost silent thump down the hall, I exited out of my program and the open folders, closed the laptop, slid it back into the briefcase, and leaned over as if I was putting on my shoes. Emma's bedroom door opened and a second later she appeared at the end of the hall, wrapped in a faded pink knit robe, her eyes squinted against the light in the living room. Her cheeks were still flushed with sleep, almost the same pink as her robe. Her eyes skimmed me, taking in my half-dressed state, and she said, “You going?"

Another woman might have said the words with an accusation, or petulance. Emma offered neither, no judgment and no complaint. Oddly, that bothered me. I shouldn't want her to want me to stay. I was here to keep tabs on what she was doing and search for evidence for my client. Fucking her was only a side benefit. I wasn't her boyfriend. So why the fuck did I care if she didn't care that I was sneaking out on her in the middle of the night? Again.

I didn't care; I told myself.

"Yeah," I said. "Got an early meeting."

"K. I'll lock up behind you," she said, her voice adorably still half asleep.

"What about you?" I asked, unable to stop myself. "Do you have an early meeting?"

Looking confused, she shook her head. Leaving my shoes on the floor, I stood and crossed the room to her. Her eyes widened in surprise when I took her face in my hands and kissed her. Her mouth opened, her tongue stroking mine, her arms wrapping around my shoulders. I kissed her harder, crushing her full lips, pulling her flush against me, her breasts pressed to my chest, her ass filling my hand.

It was late, and I did have an early meeting. But since we were both awake, it would be foolish to waste the opportunity to get Emma naked. I was a lot of things, but I wasn't a fool.