Wicked Desires (Vol. 1): Three Erotic Shorts Read online

  Wicked Desires

  Volume 1

  Jennifer Simms

  Priscilla West

  Copyright © 2012

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  Copyright © 2012

  All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  Warning: This work contains scenes of graphic sexual nature and it is written for adults only(18+). All characters depicted in this story are over 18 years of age.

  Table of Contents

  Corporate Seduction

  Conquered Love

  Business with Pleasure

  Corporate Seduction

  by Jennifer Simms

  The bathroom was empty. At least, for now. Claudia Graves shut the door on the restaurant sounds of clinking silverware and chattering couples and went straight to the sink, avoiding her own reflection as she turned on the water and let it run.

  She didn’t know what she was doing in here, she just had to get away. Away from him, away from their table, away from the question he’d just asked. Her face flushed with a flood of emotions; shame, satisfaction, bitterness, disgrace, they all blended as she tried to catch her breath.

  “Get a grip,” she spat at herself, finally allowing a glance into the mirror. Her carefully applied countenance stared back, a stranger in her reflection; raven black hair straight and clipped around her pale face, just the way he liked it. Contacts turning her green eyes a dark and mysterious hazel brown, maroon lipstick to match her slinky, form fitting dress.

  No wonder he wanted her. Who wouldn’t? She’d made a career out of playing the young ingénue, the svelte temptress, her mouth full of husky come on lines, her panty drawer full of thongs, her body never less than flawless, her hair and nails impeccably tended, her outfits never less than flawless.

  It was all a mask, every inch of it, culled carefully from studying her subject for weeks before starting her latest job. And that’s all it was supposed to be: a job. Seduce and destroy. That was the mission. Same as all the others; so many, many others. The jobs came as mysteriously, as frequently, as the generous payments did. It usually took a few months, at most, for the “target” to fall head over heels for Claudia.

  Once they did, she would break their hearts and ruin their lives -- leave them at the altar, a thousand guests and the gathered press whispering, gossiping, tarnishing their reputation, just the way her clients liked it. It wasn’t particularly hard on her, emotionally speaking. The targets were not the most upstanding or handsome of characters and she could easily see how someone would hold a grudge against them. But this time, the target was different.

  Richard Laymon was different. Sure he was rich, like the others, but he was also young, devilishly handsome, charming, with an air of aloof mystery about him. Despite having spent so much time together, she rarely knew what he was thinking.

  Claudia suspected he liked it that way.

  It had already been six months, and although he seemed fully committed to her, she hadn’t been sure if she would be able to hook him to the point where he’d be head over heels for her. They hadn’t even had sex yet. And then, all of a sudden, out of the blue, just a few minutes earlier, it had happened. All she’d worked for, these long months, it had all--

  The bathroom door suddenly burst open and two women, giggling and fanning their faces, flooded in from the restaurant. Claudia immediately bent back to the gushing water as the women joined her at the long, marble sink. They set their identical clam shell purses down on the marble countertop and gushed about the billionaire’s bombshell moment.

  “Can you believe it?” one said to the other, mouth shaped like an oval as she re-applied a garish shade of bright pink lipstick. “Richard Laymon, of all people, proposing during dinner.”

  “I thought he’d be a permanent bachelor,” said the other, straightening her wig.

  Claudia smirked; not if she had anything to do with it. The first woman clucked. “Oh no, I hear he’s head over heels for this one. Pretty young thing, too.”

  The second sighed. “No doubt she’s just out for all that high tech cash of his.”

  Claudia’s face burned as she stared down into the running water. The second woman clasped her purse and then abruptly left, leaving the first woman without a hen to gossip with.

  Claudia took the bait and looked over. “Did you hear the news?” the woman asked hopefully.

  Claudia looked back, nonplussed. “What’s that?”

  The woman, fortyish and plump, offered a disapproving frown. “About the billionaire, Richard Laymon. He just proposed to his girlfriend over dinner!”

  Claudia smiled blandly, offering no response. The woman, spurned by Claudia’s indifference, reached for her purse and clipped it shut. “I just think it’s romantic, that all. Young love? True love? Isn’t it grand?”

  Claudia couldn’t force herself to nod and the woman made an abrupt departure. Claudia looked back at her reflection and made a slight “tssking” sound. “It would never last anyway,” she sighed, finally turning off the water. “Not in a million years.”

  A familiar voice from the doorway chuckled and she turned, finding Richard there in his khaki linen suit, a crisp white shirt unbuttoned at the collar, broad shoulders filling the doorway. Even now, six months later, his striking appearance still took her breath away.

  “Never in a million years, huh?” He propped the bathroom open with one Italian leather loafer and leaned back against the doorjamb, arms crossed in front of his chest, daring her to pass.

  The blush rose to her young face once more. She leaned her hip against the granite counter, wanting to keep some distance between them, not trusting herself if she moved any closer.

  He was tall and lanky, fit from weekly racquetball sessions at his tech company’s onsite gym, barely out of his twenties and already a billionaire several times over. And still, he looked as casual, as carefree, as if he’d just come in from surfing all afternoon.

  His boyish face was still beaming at her. She looked away and muttered, “You know what I mean.”

  He was earnest. “I don’t, Claudia. I thought… I thought we had something. Something worth sharing forever.”

  Her eyes flashed back at his. “You don’t mean that,” she spat, hardly knowing where the sudden tidal wave of emotion had come from. She never let the job get to her like this; never let the target get this close to her hardened heart. “You can’t mean that.”

  She’d done this, what, half-a-dozen? A dozen times by now? How had this scamp of a computer geek made her “job” so difficult? What made this “target” so damn special?

  He inched forward, or tried to anyway, but she held up a firm hand to stop him. Amazingly, he paused. “I do mean that, Claudia. I would never toy with your emotions like that.”

  His tone held no accusation, and yet those words cut deep all the same. Wasn’t that exactly what she was doing with him? Right now? For the last six months? Toying with him? With his emotions, with his heart?

  She stared at his broad chest, his long fingers, his narrow waist and sighed. God, how she wanted him to hold her, to melt into those arms and feel him deep inside of her.

  She snapped herself out of it, forced herself to focus. “No, Richard, I do
n’t think you would do that to me.”

  She closed her eyes and took a breath. In that moment, he crossed the room and knelt before her, right there on the bathroom floor, a small but priceless engagement ring staring up at her out of an open jeweler’s box.

  The air caught in her throat as she involuntarily gasped.

  He rushed forward, voice squeaking, hands trembling. “So… will you say “yes,” Claudia? Will you make my dreams come true?”

  Why was she hesitating? Why was this even an issue? “Yes” was the proper answer. “Yes” was the ticket to a $50,000 bonus from her client and the satisfaction of yet another covert assignment.

  “Yes,” she said, for all the wrong reasons.

  He stood, abruptly, and dragged her from the bathroom. Heads turned as he led her, giggling, toward the front door. “But dinner?” she asked, not feeling very hungry and looking behind her at their now empty table for two.

  A waiter, smiling at his hundred dollar tip, waved them goodbye. A busboy was already clearing their uneaten dinner plates. Richard leaned in, breath smelling minty. “It’s all been taken care of, my dear.”

  His breath in her ear, the words he was saying, made her tremble inside. The night was young, and he had said the magic words, bought himself a one-way ticket straight into Claudia’s bed. She, for one, couldn’t wait.

  Claudia heard a cluck and, as she passed by a table on the way out of the restaurant, noticed one of the women from the bathroom. She smirked, holding on to Richard all the tighter.

  Harriman, Richard’s longtime and faithful driver, was waiting at the curb. An older, rarely smiling man, he immediately opened the back door of a giant SUV with a casual nod of his head.

  Claudia got in first, stomach in knots, her new engagement ring scratchy on her finger, Richard sliding in beside her. He sat closer than usual, hands to himself, as usual. Not for the first time, she wished otherwise.

  It was a strategy of hers, in the past, to make her targets wait until they “put a ring on it” before sampling any of her well-practiced wares. It was a novel approach, she knew. These days, most girls gave it up the first time out, spoiling the chances of illusion. Not Claudia; she knew the score and knew how to play it well.

  With each passing day, their devotion to her grew until, at last, they could wait no longer. Finally, if only for a glimpse of her honey pot, for a chance to slip inside her, feast on her young, slender body, the men would propose.

  With Richard, it had been harder than ever. Hearing him in the shower each morning, knowing he was naked, soap gliding down his long, slender torso, drove her insane with desire. Watching him on the beach, stepping from the ocean in his snug red trunks, she had to look away. Lying next to him each night, her hands itching to caress his hairless chest, her mouth tempted to sample a deep, long kiss, had proved almost impossible.

  Six months was a long time for a girl in her prime. Not so much when the men were old fogies or lechers like most of her targets, who cared only about their money and hadn’t seen a gym in decades, but with Richard it had been a particularly long stretch.

  “Where to, sir?” asked Harriman, turning around in the front seat.

  Richard looked at Claudia and smiled slyly. “Take the long way home, Harriman.” Harriman agreed, his stiff chauffer cap nodding slowly as Richard pushed a button on the door to raise the heavily tinted, soundproof barrier between the driver’s seat and the backseat.

  The sound of the mechanical window sliding up into its berth made Claudia shiver with desire. He’d never done that before. The backseat was dark but dimly lit by the moonlight filtering in through the windows. They cast shadows on Richard’s lean face and reflected off his dark brown eyes, making the white of his crisp designer shirt all the more brilliant.

  He looked at her carefully as she licked her lips temptingly. He watched her, lick them, and she could hear his slight intake of breath. He cleared his throat and offered that adorably crooked smile of his. “Now that it’s official…” he began.

  “Almost official,” she corrected him, surprised at the huskiness of her voice as she turned in her seat to face him. She crossed her legs and the sensation made her blink slowly and lick her lips again. The tight, silken dress didn’t leave much to the imagination, and she smiled as he admired the swell of her breasts.

  “Yes, well…” He inched closer, the sound of his linen slacks on leather making her smile as her inner thighs tingled with anticipation. “I think it’s time you started listening to your husband to be for a change.”

  She croaked out a throaty laugh. “Is that right? And what does my husband to be want me to do so urgently that he’s pulling rank five minutes after proposing?”

  He sat back, both arms across the back of the chair. “It’s just a suggestion, mind you, but… since we’re taking the long way home, and since you’ve been putting me off for so long…”

  She feigned shock. “You think it’s been easy for me?”

  He waved his hand casually. “It’s always easier for women to hold out.”

  She rolled her eyes and waited for his request.

  “Well, it’s just that…” he stammered, looking down at her waist, then quickly back into her eyes. “I thought it might be nice if you…took off your panties.”

  She chuckled and shook her head instantly, but had to admit the thought turned her on. She’d done that, of course, many times in the past. But she’d never been asked to do it. At the moment, waiting, doubtful, hopeful, Richard looked so boyish and handsome. She wanted him, purely and quickly, hard and fast right here, right now. Screw what Harriman might hear, screw the contract, the bonus, the “job.”

  She wanted him. Now. She’d never wanted anyone so badly, ever. From a shake, her head turned to a nod, and she reached slowly down to ease the hem of her slinky maroon dress up her long, shapely thighs.

  She watched his eyes as they drank her in, forcing her to slow her movements as the silky fabric crept up her thighs, inch by inch, the hem feeling delicious against her skin. She saw the moonlight reflected in his eyes, in the glistening coat on his lips as he licked them urgently, on the sparkly body cream she’d used before they’d left for dinner.

  She rested her hands on her thighs, making him wait, enjoying his anticipation, her fingertips on her skin making her moist even as, at last, she reached up inside her dress to pull down her tight black panties.

  She rested a thumb on either side of the underwear, looking up at him as he sat, marveling at her, eyes adoring and hands trembling. That look in his eyes, admiring and intimidated, anticipating and fearful, made her moan softly as at last she sat slightly up and slid the panties down her thighs slowly. So… so… slowly.

  She wriggled her butt a little to feel the leather beneath her naked ass, cold but exhilarating as, at last, she gently slid the small slip of black cotton past her high heels and onto the floor. They lay there, already damp, making her blush defiantly.

  She looked up at him then, having slid down the seat slightly to peel the last inch of fabric from around her black heel. “Any more requests?” she asked hopefully, voice thick with desire, eyes half-lidded as her fingertips toyed with the hem of her dress, still resting about mid-thigh.

  “Can I move closer?” Even before he finished asking, she was nodding, one hand reaching out to cling to his linen jacket as he bent to kiss her.

  His lips were soft and sweet and gentle, just as she’d always imagined. She ran her fingers through his blond, curly hair, gasping when at last his hand reached out to slide her dress all the way up around her quivering, narrow waist. She bucked against the seat in surprise and anticipation, almost climaxing at the mere touch of his hand.

  He said nothing but merely took his lips away from her. They both watched as his long fingers threaded softly through her carefully trimmed bush, the thin strip of black hair in stark contrast to her pale, milky white skin. His touch was exquisite, soft yet forceful, warm yet knowing as he gently rasped his fingertips
against her soft, slick skin.

  They said nothing as he widened his reach, fingers splaying across her taut, flat belly, straying onto her quivering thighs which she spread a little wider, if only to have him reach her honey pot more quickly and quench the desire that burned just beneath her skin.

  But after waiting six months himself, Richard Laymon wasn’t going to please her that quickly. He toyed with her, teasing her, one hand on her breast, still mired beneath her maroon dress, as the other toyed with her rib cage, then back to her quivering belly, then to her slickening snatch and then off to brush against her thighs.

  When at last the tip of his index finger brushed against her glistening clit, she moaned aloud and grabbed his shoulder, making him gasp as he pressed more eagerly, more rhythmically, her naked ass grinding against the leather backseat, her dress bunched around her waist, her legs spread, her bare ass sliding down the seat to grind against him.

  She pulled her hand from around his shoulder, reaching for his belt as he slipped out of his jacket. She fiddled with the buckle as he gently slid one long finger inside of her, forcing her to choke off a moan by biting on his shoulder.