[Siren Allure: Erotic Contemporary Romance, public exhibition, bondage, spanking, sex toys, HFN]
The second of three novels in the Stephanie Beauman series takes the investigative journalist from New York, where she is recovering from the end of her affair with Gabriel, to France and Spain. Producer Jeffrey Carroway is making a film on the Camino de Santiago—the famous pilgrims' walk—and Stephanie has a tip-off that he is planning to buy himself an Academy Award.
Stephanie joins the film crew and finds more than she bargained for when things start going wrong on set.
Sabotage, bribery, and artistic integrity are all in the mix as Stephanie finds herself attracted to the charismatic Carroway, deals with the attentions of the director Paolo and handsome actor Damian Croft, tries to work out why the location manager is keeping such a close eye on her, and wonders whether she will ever truly escape Gabriel.
A Siren Erotic Romance
Taking the recommendation from Jose, she made her way into town and sat herself at the end of one of the long wooden tables at the Pulperia Mosquera. Behind the serving counter, octopus simmered in big vats, ready to be pulled out, chopped, and sprinkled with paprika before being served with boiled potatoes and thick chunks of bread to the pilgrims who were the restaurant’s main clientele. Stephanie looked at the platters warily but ordered one to at least say she tried. Anything could be washed down with some rosé.
It turned out to be one of the culinary highlights of the trip. After Stephanie got used to the slightly gelatinous exterior, the octopus was exquisitely tender and tasty. One of the better things from the day and a nice note to end on. Things looked even better when Damian wandered in and joined her. He gave her a piece of paper.
“Tara’s number. Don’t give it out. She said she’d speak to you, but no promises,” said Damian.
“Thank you,” said Stephanie, pouring him some wine. “Are you feeling as destroyed as I am?”
“I think we all are,” said Damian. A group of pilgrims sat at the other end of the table. One of them recognized him.
“Let’s ignore them, shall we?” suggested Stephanie.
“Difficult. In about thirty seconds they’ll send the cutest girl over here to get a photo and an autograph.”
It was sixty seconds, but she was cute. Damian politely signed and posed, but only after Stephanie made them promise to stand shotgun and not let anyone else near them. The two burly guys looked happy to accept the task. So much for religious goodwill.
They were finishing the octopus platter when Stephanie’s phone buzzed. Carlo’s number came up on the screen. Good, she didn’t have to chase him.
When she hit the yes button, he didn’t waste time with pleasantries. “Get back to the trailers now,” he said curtly, adding before he hung up, “The film van is on fire.”
The only person officially on-site when the fire started had been Jose, who was busy directing the fire brigade. Foam and water were everywhere, as was the acrid stench of smoke and burning plastic. Underlying it was the unmistakable smell of gasoline. Stephanie was one of the first of the crew there, but Jose had called Jeffrey and Paolo and they wouldn’t be far behind. Carlo met her on the periphery and thrust the camera at her. “I had better go or they’ll arrest me,” he said.
“Did you get it on film?” Stephanie asked after the disappearing figure.
Turning, he grinned and said, “See for yourself.”
There was no time for that now. Stephanie, though not particularly adept with a camera, wanted to record as much as possible of what was happening. Trying to keep steady, she watched the action through the lens. The firefighters and then the arriving crew were too stunned by what was happening to pay her much attention, though she was able to convince Harry to take over, hoping his skills would be more up to the task than hers. At least it would be in focus.
A lot of gas had been used, but Jose had been quickly on the scene, and the fire brigade had responded promptly. Damage had been contained, and the fire had not spread beyond the van that contained today’s and the previous day’s film and the video backups. The other originals had continued to be sent off every few days under guard.
Paolo and Jeffrey, differences at least temporarily put aside, seemed to agree that while the video would be lost, the film reels, which had been in a fireproof safe, would probably survive, but Jeffrey would send them off immediately to be checked at a local studio. As for the camera, apparently, it had never left Valery’s side since the incident with the cooked film.
Paolo looked totally bewildered, almost childlike in his disbelief that anyone would seek to destroy his art. Jeffrey took complete control, reassuring the crew as they turned up, and managing the fire and police. No one doubted it was arson. Stephanie held tightly to her camera. Would it tell her who had caused it?
“So does her majesty still think she’s in control?”
Jeffrey laughed. “God, you’re beautiful,” he said, sitting back and looking at her. “And I do think you need to be fucked rather badly.” He pulled her roughly up to her feet, kissing her hard while his hands went over her butt, gripping each cheek so that she was hard against his erect cock, her naked and him still clothed.
“Seeing as you like to be watched,” he whispered in her ear, “perhaps you can pretend Carlo is still in that room.” Jeffrey let her go, and, eyes fixed on her, undid his buttons and removed all his clothes. She watched him, drinking in his body. As Jeffrey pulled her to him, she savored the feeling of his naked body next to hers. His cock, already responding, saluted to attention, firm against her lower abdomen. His tongue went into her mouth, his hands went around her, owning her. For the moment at least.
“So what is it you like, Stephanie?” he whispered into her ear. “Being watched, men who dominate you? Being tied up. In control or being controlled?”
A shiver went through her. Sex and power, the ultimate cocktail.
Reading her mind, Jeffrey pushed her back on the sofa where only minutes earlier Paolo had been sitting. Pushing her legs apart, he ran a finger over her slit. Stephanie shivered as pleasure and anticipation mingled in a heady mix. Glancing at the screen, she smiled. Gabriel, wherever he was, would have a good view via a live Skype feed.
Jeffrey, sensing her attention wandering, roughly pushed two fingers inside her as his other hand massaged her breasts. Stephanie gasped, attention firmly focused back on him and her reactions.
“Fuck me,” she said urgently.
Jeffrey smirked. “Patience, your majesty.” He was in no rush, two fingers still inside her and his thumb over her clit. Stephanie moaned, her hips starting to rock slightly as her muscles clamped over his fingers. His finger fucking became more intense. Stephanie wriggled. “Come inside me,” she pleaded.
“All in good time,” said Jeffrey, looking amused. Another finger strayed below her slit, pushing over her anus. Stephanie’s hips now rocked uncontrollably. At just the right moment, the errant finger pushed inside, and Stephanie, gasping, mixed thoughts of Jeffrey, Gabriel, and Carlo in turmoil in her mind, and let out a cry as she came.
Jeffrey slowly removed his hand and allowed her a moment of recovery. “We’re not finished yet,” he whispered in her ear.
Eyes opening warily, Stephanie saw Jeffrey loom over her as his throbbing penis buried itself in her. To her surprise the effect was every bit as strong as the fingers had been. As he leaned over her, tongue in her mouth, she lost herself again in a dizzy haze of feelings fueled by a wave of memories. Jeffrey thrust in her brutally, wanting, it seemed, to be sure that she wouldn’t forget him, ensuring that, if nothing else, her memory of these physical sensations would always include him. With each thrust her muscles, part rebelling against imminent exhaustion, part desperate for more, were driven on by her brain, screaming against the vision of sand grains dropping, wanting the experience to be real and vital. Memories fought for dominance, but with her increasing arousal all thoughts of being watched were obliterated.