His Target, His Desire (MF)
[Siren Classic: Erotic Contemporary Romance, sex toys, HEA]
The rules of survival in this line of work: trust no one, hold no assumptions, don’t fall for your target. Bryant Holt breaks all three. For 1.5 million, Cypress Howard is now his target. Ex-black ops, Bryant finds he can’t resist her temptations.
He’s way out of her league, sexy as hell, and asking her out for dinner. It just doesn’t make sense. But Cypress is frightened of letting any one in. Why? Because Cypress now lives incognito. The real her is dead, or so everyone thinks. A deal is struck between secret factions and Cypress is now being hunted. Bryant’s claimed her, and he’ll do anything to save her. But first he must unravel the maze of her past.
When her life begins to implode, Cypress’s lover turns into James Bond. Who the hell is he? It’s too late to question, Bryant’s already chained her heart. All she can do is hold on.
A Siren Erotic Romance
Her history could be false, a plant to protect the woman’s real identity. A possibility he wouldn’t normally link, but given the apparent mundane existence of her life, which didn’t gel with the pay packet he received to monitor her, his bet was on a cover. A witness protection program would explain something’s but not the company’s interest in her. In the few brief minutes he’d been with her, he couldn’t pin-point anything noteworthy, but years of hunting those on the wrong career path, Bryant had scribed a motto, which he adhered to, ‘never take anyone at face value’. Whatever put her in the Bullseye, he wanted to know, now, not later, when potential surprises or problems arose.
Out in the foyer she slowed a little, turning his way, inviting him to catch up. He would have preferred to watch her for a little longer at a distance, but he’d been doing that for a few days now, and his clients were getting impatient. Time to tighten the noose.
“If you’re busy tonight, how ‘bout tomorrow?”
The light in her eyes told him he’d weighted his line with the right sized lure.
“What do you like to eat?”
“I’m open to anything.”
“Wow, can’t say I’ve tried it. Sounds great.”
“I’ll call you with the details.”
She did a cute bottom lip suck, which reinforced his initial perception. She had sexy full lips with a pronounced dip in the middle top one, which gave the impression of a permanent pout similar to the classic lip imprints found on car stickers or in cheeky advertising.
Bryant loved lips. He loved looking at them, kissing them and imagining what other sport a sexy pair of lips could do. Lips were as unique as fingerprints, only far more delicious. Some people even claimed a person’s personality trait was echoed on the pattern of the lips. Bryant suspected that wasn’t a fact, and he couldn’t care less. The only thing interesting him was if they were a pair he wished to kiss. Hers were, but the cutesy pie show was not he’s usual style. Looks and body were a definite bonus for the short hops, but Bryant tended to stick around longer for a woman with bite.
He pocketed his cell and they remained facing each other for a few moments while the smack of shoes and the clip of high-heels manoeuvred around them. The silence stretched out, and he was about to smooth it with some filler words when awkwardness overcame her.
“Okay. I’m off. I guess I’ll hear from you tomorrow.”
No doubt deciding the comment sounded desperate, her cheeks reddened, and she attempted a half-turn as if fighting an internal battle. He quirked one side of his mouth in an encouraging smile, and to his satisfaction, she noticed, her eyes dipping to trace the action.
“I’m heading this way.” He indicated with a small flick of his head in the opposite direction to the one they’d been walking.
“Oh, sorry, I just assumed you were heading out the main entrance.”
“I’ve more to attend to before I leave.”
“Okay. Well, I guess I’ll hear from you tomorrow.”
To re-enforce his position and cement her interest, he leant over and brushed her lips with his. When he drew back, he saw her eyes had widened and a flush dusted her face. The move was like his own personal signature, or to be more accurate, a branding, not that she would understand his motive. He wanted to sear the memory of their meeting into her mind, wipe from her conscious anyone else whom may be lurking in the periphery. The dossier had categorised her single, which meant she wasn’t married or living with someone, not whether she dabbled with casual flings or regular partners. His job would be a whole lot easier if there was no other guy thinking his was part of the show.
Bryant took his time watching the crowd swallow her. Her long hair, tied tight in a pigtail, pendulumed behind. It looked nice down, in fact, it would look good any way, especially spread across his belly while she put her luscious lips to good use, like sucking his cock.
“I hope you’re joking.”
“I am. But trust me, you’ll like what I’ve cooked. I’ve done a selection in case you’re vegetarian.”
“That’s thoughtful of you.”
“I like to please, Cypress.”
He placed his glass beside him and slid off the edge of the table to kneel at her feet.
“Shall we get you more comfortable?”
He gave her a hearts beat to halt him, before he reached down to undo the buckle of her right high-heel. Raising her foot enough he slid the shoe off and placed it to the side. To his satisfaction he heard her sharp intake of breath and fought to keep his face impassive, not wanting to reveal the triumphant smile. The left foot came next and with the release of the buckle his heart rate notched up a couple of beats. When both were off and out the way, he glanced up, first meeting her lips, which she licked in a titillating way, then further up, a few seconds later, to her eyes. She sat rigid, her hands on the armrests, tracking his moves.
Without releasing eye contact, he trailed one finger up her left inner calf to the knee, feather light. The right finger trailed up her other calf a fraction later. Her skin was smooth and soft, the sort of skin a man wanted to wrap himself in.
Gently, with minimal pressure he pushed her knees apart enough so he could fit inside the gap. She didn’t try to resist, which was tantalizing. God, she smelt good. Perhaps her was already wet. His fingers itched with the need to find out, but tonight was about seduction, stripping barriers and above all pleasure. Oh he wanted to please her, he really did, so the overwhelming desire to slam into her right now had to be corralled. Pleasing her was more important tonight.
As a deliberate tease, he inched his hand up her inner thighs, bunching her hemline along the trail, and she quivered once he crossed the invisible safe line into forbidden territory. He stopped and took a few moments to study her face, receiving all the encouragement he needed to continue. She was in the process of abandoning herself to him. He’d read it countless times before, but never so open and willingly. The anticipation of the fuck made his balls feel ready to combust.
The strokes resumed on her inner thigh. With each of his caresses, she inched forward, staring at his mouth and slowly parting hers the closer she came. A millisecond before their lips touched, she drew in a breath, making his heart spasm and his hands twitch, wanting to seek out deep, warm places to fondle. On contact, a powerful wave of longing ran through him, his cock hardening to the point of pain. Her breath arrived warm on his lips, tasting sweet. He used his tongue like he wanted to use his cock, penetrating and demanding her absolute surrender. She gave it. With a soft moan and the collapse of her arms on the rests beside her, she folded into him.
God, it was so fucking hot.
He grasped the sides of her head in his palms and locked her in place, forcing her to suck his tongue. With his veins jacked full of testosterone, it was all he could do to pull back from ramming into her now. He pressed close, letting her feel the stiff length of his cock between her legs and was rewarded with another moan. What would he do to her? Bury his head in her wet cunt and lick. Allow her to wrap her legs around his head and rub her pussy across his face. God, this was killing him—a slow beautiful death.
She struggled to pull her head away, and he let her go, pulling back enough as she undid his shirt. Her hair was messed by his rough hands, her lipstick smeared by his demanding kiss. She already looked had and way too enticing for her own good. Once the last button was undone, she pulled his shirt out of his pants and started on the buckle. When her hands swept across the top of his caged cock, as she fiddled with the button, he drew in a sharp breath.
The removal of his clothes became a divine play for him to watch, the smooth skin on the back of her hands and her manicured nails, undoing the button, undoing the zip and then gliding his jeans down, so his cocked danced out free, seeking.
She wrapped her warm hand around him, and he tilted his head to the ceiling and moaned a long slow release. She made an attempt to lower her head, preparing to suck, but he stopped her by reaching under her hem and grabbing the top of her panties. She obliged by lifting her ass off the chair long enough for Bryant to slide them down and toss them free.
Again he traced the inside of her thigh, getting closer, watching passion slacken her features. Most of her pubic hair had been shaven, leaving a thin line down the middle like a runway strip, downy and inviting—who was he to refuse the invitation. Two fingers slid inside, yes, definitely wet, and the sigh that escaped her was the ignition to his engine. He pulled a foil from his pocket and handed it to her.
“Would you mind?” His words sounded thick and heavy.