The Valentine Effect Read online

  “Office it is then.” He took her hand and led her toward it. “But let me warn you, this may completely change your opinion about getting involved with me.”

  He wasn’t exaggerating in calling his office a cubbyhole. The little closet-sized room was barely large enough to fit a desk and chair with an ancient metal file cabinet wedged between the desk and the plywood wall. One of the drawers of the file cabinet was partly open, overflowing with papers and at such a crooked angle, it was clear it couldn’t be closed.

  Auto-parts books lined a rough shelf over the desk. More manuals, catalogs and tons of paperwork covered the surface of the desk. There was also some unidentifiable, greasy car part plopped down in the middle of the desk right on top of the files and papers. An old swivel chair on casters leaned drunkenly in front of the desk. The room smelled like car exhaust and, with the two of them crowded into it, there was barely enough oxygen to breathe.

  Carrie glanced up at Ric. “You weren’t kidding. My image of you is blown. That’s it! I’m finished.”

  “Not if I won’t let you escape.” He grinned and grabbed her again, lifting her ass up onto the desk and moving between her legs. “Maybe I’ll just keep you prisoner in my love-dungeon here so I can get a little somethin’ off and on throughout the day.”

  “Sicko!” She clung to him with legs and arms, relishing the feel of his solid, real body in her embrace again. How could she have imagined letting this opportunity pass her by?

  They made out for a while like a pair of high school kids sneaking off to a janitor’s closet to grope and touch and fondle. Ric kissed her slow and gentle, hard and possessive until her lips were numb.

  “Mmm.” Carrie ran her tongue over her swollen lips and touched them with her fingertips. “Boy, can you kiss. I might have to consider taking this love-slave position after all. I think it would beat dealing with eight-year-olds all day.”

  Ric suddenly dropped to his knees before her, pulling her ass right up to the edge of the desk and pushing her skirt all the way up her thighs. “Baby, I can make you beg me to keep you,” he bragged, pulling her underwear down her legs and tossing it aside.

  Oh God, did this man have a talented tongue! He was a master at oral sex, and she was eminently grateful that he appeared to love giving it. Carrie leaned back, hands braced against the desk, and thrust her hips up, offering her pussy to him.

  First he kissed all around the general area, nibbling her inner thighs, whipping her desire into a frenzy, then he finally gave her what she craved. He parted her swollen nether lips and licked lightly, gently up her seam. Flicking his tongue over her clit, he set off a string of firecrackers popping through her system. He bent lower and delved his tongue into her depths, moving it around inside her, making her squirm.

  Her pelvis rose and fell beneath his touch. She gazed down at his dark head between her thighs, his big hands holding her spread wide and his tongue lapping at her clit again. His lips closed over it and he sucked. She gasped and twisted at the electric sensation that shot through her.

  Ric probed his fingers in her vagina, first two then three, stretching and filling her, moving in and out. Too soon, Carrie felt the inexorable orgasm building inside her. She didn’t want to come yet. Not like this. She pushed against his head, breaking his contact with her pussy.

  He looked up with questioning eyes, his lips glistening with moisture. Knowing they were wet because of her, that he had tasted her essence, sent another thrill of desire through her. “Move,” she ordered. “I want to come while you’re inside me.”

  He rose from his knees and moved out of her way. She hopped down from her perch and turned around. She laid her torso across the desk, feet on the floor, ass lifted high in the air. “This way.”

  His hands slid up her naked rear, pushing her skirt up and leaving it bunched over her lower back. “Oh, chiquita, you look so hot like that!” His voice was low and rasping. One of his hands cupped her ass. He pressed the other between her shoulder blades and rubbed it all the way down to her waist.

  “Let me see you with your shirt off.”

  Carrie straightened and shed her blouse and bra before stretching across the desk once more. Her breasts were flattened against the hard surface and pressed into papers, file folders and magazines. A few paper clips and staples scraped against her skin. Her head faced right, and the greasy car part was right in her line of sight. She studied the mysterious valves and thingamabobs and wondered what possible use it could have. It amazed her that Ric knew everything about that part, including why it needed to be replaced. She considered that a mechanic was like a surgeon for cars. Luckily, her mechanic’s knowledge extended beyond automobiles and into the realm of what drove a woman crazy.

  There was a rustle of clothes as Ric stripped down too, then his hands moved all her over naked back, up and down, massaging lightly, digging into the muscles at the base of her neck until she whined from pleasure.

  He stroked the length of her arms where they lay on either side of her head, all the way up to her hands. Then he laced his fingers with hers and leaned over her back, covering her with his hot body. His cock pressed into the groove of her upraised ass and rubbed over her clenching anus.

  It felt so good she wanted him to enter her there, and that wasn’t a fantasy she’d ever entertained before. At that moment, she wanted him to do anything he liked to her. The love-slave idea didn’t seem like so much of a joke anymore. She’d gladly become his little submissive—at least for a day. He could fuck her mouth, her ass, whatever he wanted, and she’d crave more.

  Her pussy tightened and released. Juices flowed from it and her sex trembled for want of him.

  “Do it!” she begged. “Fuck me!” Her own raw, needy voice startled her. She’d never talked during intercourse, but Ric’s sexy chatter and the way it turned her on had given her a new perspective on that, too. It felt good to express her needs, to use crude words and beg for a fuck.

  “Sure, sweetheart,” he whispered near her ear. He brushed her hair aside and kissed the nape of her neck, and then suddenly his weight and warmth against her backside were gone.

  She glanced over her shoulder to see him ripping open a condom packet and rolling it on his jutting erection. Her jaw tightened and she actually salivated at the sight of his cock. It was so thick and meaty and… Grrr. She just wanted to bite it!

  Instead, she lay in her subjugated pose while Ric stepped in behind her again and spread her legs even wider. The head of his cock brushed against her wet opening, and pushed inside, stretching and filling her aching pussy.

  More. Deeper. Harder. She wanted to shout commands, but fear of who may have entered the garage only a narrow piece of plywood away, kept her quiet. Instead, she encouraged Ric with breathy murmurs and groans.

  “Oh yeah. Right there! Unh! Fuck me!”

  He filled her deeply, gripping her hips and pushing her hard into the desk. His cock hit a sweet spot at her very core, sending waves of painful pleasure breaking through her.

  “Chinga!” he cursed under his breath. “You feel so good around me, baby. So tight.” Words gave way to ecstatic groans as he continued to drive into her.

  Wildness fluttered inside her as he hit her G-spot again and again. She moaned, and her fingers gripped for purchase on the flat surface of the desk, clutching at papers and crumpling them. With each hard stroke, she lifted her ass higher, bracing her legs to give Ric a sturdy frame to push into.

  Fill me. Use me. Fuck me! Fluttering bits of need flitted through her like fireflies, gathering together into one solid mass. Her pussy pulsed hard around his invading cock. Blood raced through her veins and her heart thundered. It swelled and expanded in her chest as though it might choke her. At the same time, the heat in her core flared, bursting into a fireball of light and desire. Carrie literally saw stars behind her closed eyelids and wailed aloud, no longer caring who might hear.

  Flesh slapped against flesh as Ric pounded into her, then he froze and cried out,
a low, primitive cry of release. His cock throbbed inside her, spending its seed. He collapsed against her back, pinning her to the desk, his body slick with sweat and heaving as he drew in ragged breaths.

  “Holy Christ!” he exhaled. His arms rested on top of hers, fingers entwining with hers.

  His head rested heavily between her shoulder blades, and he turned his face to kiss her there. “Damn, baby, you’ve got to surprise me at work like this every day.”

  Carrie smiled, and her eyes opened, focusing on the greasy car part again. What the hell was that thing? Her legs trembled from their combined weight and her lungs were compressed so she could barely breathe. “Off now,” she wheezed.

  Instantly she was relieved of his weight as he straightened, then helped her to stand. Turning her to face him, he lifted her breasts in his hands.

  “How are your poor tits? Did they get squished?”

  “The girls are very resilient. They’ll be fine.” She pulled his hands from her breasts and put them around her lower back, moving into his embrace.

  Holding her close, he kissed the top of her head and swayed her back and forth, humming something under his breath.

  Carrie pressed her ear to his chest and listened to the rumble of the tune reverberating inside. “Is that…‘We Are the Champions’?”

  “Uh, maybe.”

  She laughed.

  “I can’t help it. Damn song’s been stuck in my head all day.”

  I could grow to love this guy. She lifted her head from his chest and looked up at him. “So, I’d like to take you up on the offer of those ballet tickets.”

  His dark eyes sparkled. “Great, ’cause, honestly, I don’t know who else I could convince to go with me. I don’t exactly run with a ballet crowd.”

  “You’re funny,” she said dryly, tracing her finger over his lips. She could touch them all day—so soft and warm.

  He caught her finger between his teeth and bit down lightly. Pulling his arms from around her, he caught her hand in his and kissed the palm before placing it on his chest. “Feel that? You’ve got it working again.” His heart beat briskly beneath her hand. “I know. Cheesy. But I haven’t felt this good in a long time.”

  “Me either.” She rubbed her hand over his smooth, tan chest, feeling the ripple of muscles and imagining a red glowing heart underneath. “What about Nando? Will he be okay with this? With us seeing each other?”

  He paused. “Honestly? He’s going to have to be. I need this. I need to feel alive again, and I imagine if I’m happy, it can only be good for both of us.” He frowned and looked at her. “Does that sound selfish?”

  Carrie shook her head. “It sounds right.”

  She pulled away from him, retrieved her bra and blouse from the floor and put them on. Ric was completely dressed in his uniform again by the time she’d located her panties trailing from the file cabinet drawer, and slipped them on.

  Tucking her blouse in and smoothing her skirt, she turned to him. “How would it be if we went out to dinner tonight…with Nando? Would he like that?”

  Ric smiled. “He’d love that, and so would I.”

  “That’s what we’ll do then.” She returned his smile and leaned in to kiss him, all her reservations evaporating like soap bubbles. For the first time she stopped worrying about how dating this man would affect her and started thinking about what she could give to him—to them.

  Her expanding heart was ready to take a plunge and open wide without weighing the risk. It felt as big and transparent as a plastic Valentine stick-on heart glowing with ruby light.

  About the Author

  To learn more about Bonnie Dee, please visit http://www.bonniedee.com. Send an email to Bonnie Dee at [email protected] or join her Yahoo! group to join in the fun with other readers as well as Bonnie Dee!

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  She’s a heartless assassin; he’s an immortal thief. In another life, they would have been lovers. In this one, he’s her target and she’s his prize.

  Like a Thief in the Night

  © 2008 Bettie Sharpe

  Death comes like a thief in the night. For reclusive thief Sevastien Aniketos, death comes in the form of slinky assassin Arden Black. But Aniketos has a surprise for his would-be assassin—he is immortal. And he is about to turn the tables on the pragmatic femme fatale.

  Arden finds more than she bargained for when she sneaks through the window of Aniketos’s glass penthouse to take his life. The immortal thief is no victim; he’s a clever strategist who has set his sights on capturing the lethal lady and making her his own.

  Trapped with a man she cannot kill, Arden slowly succumbs to Aniketos’s scheme of seduction, ceding her secrets, her loyalty, and eventually her heart. But when Arden’s wicked past catches up with her, Aniketos is faced with a choice.

  An endless life without Arden, or a paltry mortal lifespan with the woman he is increasingly sure he cannot live without.

  Enjoy the following excerpt for Like a Thief in the Night

  “Why?”

  He raked her with his gaze, icy blue eyes tracing the length of her body. “Aside from the obvious appeal of having a naked murderess at my complete disposal? I want information about the Darkriver Corporation’s wet works. Who better to get it from than one of their best assassins?”

  Arden could hardly deny she was an assassin; she had sneaked into the man’s penthouse and strangled him in his sleep. But she wouldn’t admit she worked for Darkriver. He would have to do more than ask politely if he wanted that information from her.

  She furrowed her brows to make an exaggerated look of confusion. “Darkriver Corporation is an international private security firm. They have contracts to police several major cities and their peacekeeping forces are active in war zones all over the world. Darkriver doesn’t employ people like me, they catch them.”

  “That was a stupid lie, Arden.” His voice was low, deadly, and threatening by its very lack of emotion.

  She had expected he would get angry with her for playing dumb, that he would hit her and threaten her. Instead, he watched her. She returned his gaze, refused to yield by looking away. Silence stretched between them—charged, intense, and strangely intimate. She had never looked a man in the eye for so long before; not the men she killed nor the men she fucked.

  Her heart beat faster. She hoped he read it as nervousness and not arousal. She had been trained to resist torture, but this was something else entirely. She wanted to fidget, to cover her body, to squeeze her muscles tight around her traitorous twat.

  She wondered why he didn’t hit her for her lack of cooperation. She wanted him to. She wanted an interaction she could understand, and violence was an old acquaintance.

  She licked her lips. His gaze darted down to focus on her tongue, on her mouth. She smiled. Curiosity wasn’t his only weakness.

  “You should be frightened.” His voice was rougher than it had been the last time he’d spoken. “You are naked and bound to a chair in a basement. I could do anything to you.”

  “But all you’ve done is talk,” she taunted. “If you were going to torture me, you’d be showing me your tools. If you planned to rape me you wouldn’t have tied my legs together. If you were going to kill me, I’d be dead by now. Excluding those options, I can only conclude your plan is to keep me here and ask me psychologically probing questions until I die of frustration or boredom.”

  “Frustration?” He took her bait.

  She raised her eyebrows and made an “O” of her mouth to create an exaggerated expression of surprise
. “Oops. Was that a Freudian slip? An advanced case of Stockholm syndrome? A closet kink for kinbaku? Stop with the talk, Aniketos. I may like killing people, but I hate to kill time.”

  “You want to provoke me.”

  “Now why would I do that?”

  “You stall for time. You want me to lose my temper.”

  “What I want is for you to let me go.”

  His eyes narrowed with suspicion. “Which of those knots have you loosened?”

  He stood and approached her. It was too soon and he was too calm, but she seized her chance anyway. She was not as deft with her left hand—a fraction of a second slower, a millimeter less precise—but she was quick enough to grab a fistful of his shirt and drag his face down to hers.

  She pressed her lips to his, hard and fast, before he could draw away. The kiss only lasted a moment, but it was explosive. The universe had been born in an instant; a mere moment could change everything.

  He tasted of cardamom, brown bread and bergamot when she pressed her tongue between his lips. His tongue met hers, pushed her back, sliding into her mouth with forceful ease. A tremor of pleasure rocked through her, turning her joints to jelly and making her heart hammer hard against her ribs. She wanted him.

  For that one brief instant, she lost herself to desire. She lost herself to the feel of his lips, the smell of his skin, the hot rush of his exhalations against her cheek. And, in that instant, she lost her chance.

  He wrapped his hand around her wrist and wrenched it away from his collar. The haze of lust between them shattered like warm glass plunged into a tub of ice.

  He stepped to the back of her chair, twisting her arm as he went. It only took him a second to tie her hand to the edge of the chair again. He pulled the ropes tighter this time—her fingers immediately started to tingle with the loss of sensation.