Page 10 of Seduction in Spades

The car screams money. The monthly payment is probably more than my rent. Hell, I bet Superman paid for it in cash. “Did you send our photo to all your friends?”

“No. Just the Boston Police and the Globe.”

“Even smarter.” The corner of his mouth quirks as he pulls out of the parking garage. “I don’t live too far, and I doubt we’ll hit much traffic this late.”

“You really don’t do this on the regular?”

He looks over his shoulder at me for a second, his facial expression revealing nothing, before returning his attention to the nearly empty streets of Boston. “No.”

I want to tell him I don’t either, but then I remember I’m supposed to be the confident seductress.

“Well, then. Lead me to your lair.”Shit. I don’t want to sound like a whore either. I pick at my fingernails while I try to come up with something witty to say.

“Nervous?” He reaches over for my hand and threads his fingers through mine.

What the hell is this? He touches me like we’re on a date and not our first. My body responds too easily to him. I really can’t afford to slide down the rabbit hole of falling for a guy.

What’s happening between us has to be one hundred percent sexual. Superman needs to stop doing things to make me like him so much. I take our joined hands and rest them on his thigh and slowly extend my fingers.

I’m dangerously close to the impressive heat he’s packing. I felt it against my backside on the dance floor, and I got a glimpse of the bulge behind his zipper when we were at the tequila bar. Unless he’s got a sock stuffed down the front of his pants, I’m going to be walking like a penguin for the next two days. He squeezes my hand and subtly shifts it to the outside of his thigh.

“Not a fan of distracted driving?”

“That or blowing my load in my jeans before I even get a taste of you.”

Don’t fall for him. Don’t fall for him. Don’t fall for him.

I’ve always believed in the power of threes. They better not fail me now. He turns down a cute street that belongs on a movie set. I wouldn’t think a man like the one who drives this fancy car and has muscles meant for a linebacker on a New Orleans Saints player would live on such a quaint street.

He parks in front of a row of brownstones. The interior lights come on in the car and he slips out quickly. Before I can unbuckle my belt, my door is open, and his hand is out for me to take.

Stay cool. Stay cool. Stay cool.

My hand is clammy against his rough, calloused palm. I follow him up a set of stone steps. “Nice digs. Glad the neighborhood looks safe. I’d hate to get mugged while creeping on your front steps in the middle of the night.”

He tosses me a smirk over his shoulder, unlocks the front door, and waits for me to enter first.

“You don’t have the place booby-trapped, do you?”

“No.” He shuts the door and turns on the foyer light.

I let my eyes adjust to the brightness and take in the dark wood floors, white walls, and simple decor. The living room is chic and tidy. Lived in but not overly so. There are a few picture frames on the mantel and a grouping in the built-in bookshelf.

“Can I get you something to drink?” He tosses his keys in on a wooden table by the front door.

Talking and flirting while sipping a fancy wine he’s sure to have in his wine cellar will only make leaving harder. Sex. This is about sex.

I spin around so I’m facing him, then grip the waistband of his jeans and yank his zipper down. “The only thing I want in my mouth is you.”

I drop to my knees and reach inside his briefs. Fuck. He’s huge and hard.

“Sweetheart.” He tugs at my hair, but I don’t pull away. “Fuck. What’s your name?”

“Mm.” I pull his cock out and rub it against my chin and my lips. I’d love to hear him shout my name while he’s pummeling into me. But I don’t want to take that memory home with me.

The less we know about each other, the better. I open my mouth and suck on the tip of his cock. It’s warm, and the veins on the underside are thick. I run my tongue along his length before drawing him in between my lips.

“Fuuuuck.” His grip on my hair is tight, and I have to hold on to the back of his thighs for support.

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