Lora Leigh - Seduction

Jesse had sworn Terrie would come to him. He wouldn’t spend agonizing months trying to ease her into a relationship she had stated she would never tolerate. So he tried to seduce her into it instead.

After Jesse’s brother, Thomas, died he had made himself indispensable to her. He was at the house often, fixing this or that, just talking or watching movies late into the night. Despite appearances, Terrie was a wary person, well aware of how easily she could be hurt, how weak she was physically. From what he had gathered, his brother had been more of a bastard than he had ever imagined.

Thomas had hurt her in the worst possible way. Terrie could have overcome physical abuse. She would have just left. But the systematic psychological and verbal abuse had damned near destroyed her.

“Now that was a beautiful wedding.” Terrie stumbled against him a bit as he helped her into the house.

James and Ella’s wedding ceremony had made her teary-eyed, reflective. She had sat in the limo on the way home, quiet, a bit sad, staring out the window as her fingers stroked over the upper swell of one breast her cream-colored dress had revealed. The action had caused his cock to swell—to harden in agonizing need.

Jesse’s brother, James, had married her best friend after nearly tens years of waiting impatiently on Ella to come around and be tempted by the sexuality he offered her.

“Well, it wasn’t a long one, anyway.” Jesse pulled her to him, leading her to the living room, enjoying her soft weight against his side.

The smooth silk of her dress slid against his hands, and when he sat her on the couch, the hem rode just below the crotch of her panties. Cream-colored silk as well. He was betting it was a thong.

“You kissed the bride.” Her surprising comment had his brows lifting in surprise.

He had kissed the bride. Long and deep, to her complete surprise and shocked arousal.

“Yeah, I did.” He knelt before her, removing the high-heeled shoes from her small feet.

“That was so decadent,” she sighed then. “Kissing her that way, with your tongue. You made her horny.”

He smothered his laughter. “That was the point,” he whispered up at her as he caressed the slight welts on the side of her foot.

She pouted. She had such an intriguing pout, and used it on him often.

“I promise not to kiss Ella again.” His hand stroked her calf as he felt a small tremor work over her body.

“Sax fucked her. He was at the wedding, of course.” She shot him a narrow eyed, disgruntled look. “I knew she couldn’t hold out. She gave in too easily.”

She sounded angry with Ella, though Jesse knew she was more than pleased that her friend had finally found some happiness.

“You, of course, would be much harder to convince?” he asked her, careful to keep his voice even, his hand on her calf comforting rather than arousing.

She leveled a hard look at him. “I am not so easy.”

That was sure as hell the truth. He murmured consoling words while massaging her foot, well aware of how the heels made her feet ache.

“I’m not your sister.” She jerked her foot from his grasp, staring down at him angrily. “Stop treating me like one.”

“Keep it up and I’ll turn you over my knee and paddle your ass.” He jerked her foot back. “Now what has you so upset? I thought you were happy for Ella.”

“I am.” She was pouting again, watching him darkly.

“Then what’s your problem?” he asked her again.

“You’ve never kissed me like that,” she finally said, her cheeks blooming with a flush. “Why haven’t you?”

Her hazel eyes, more green than brown, watched him with narrow frustration and arousal. Her soft red hair cascaded around her face, the fiery waves tempting his hands to smooth them back from her flushed cheeks.

He pursed his lips. Her breasts were moving quickly beneath her dress, her nipples hard, poking impatiently at the light fabric. He allowed his hand to stroke higher along the inside of her leg.

“Because,” he whispered. “I can never decide where to put my tongue first.”

She blinked, confusion filling her expression. “What?” Her question was almost a gasp.

“You heard me.” His hand stroked to her thigh. “Do I take your lips and plunge my tongue into your mouth, Terrie, or do I push it as deep and as hard up your pussy as I can, and suck all that sweet cream into my mouth? Deciding is a bitch.”

Her mouth opened, her thighs tensed. He watched as she fought to breathe, to draw in air to counter the arousal he saw surging in her gaze. He parted her thighs then, his cock jerking at the sight of the damp spot on the silk of her panties. His gaze rose back to hers.

“Do you want that, Terrie? My mouth buried in your cunt, my tongue fucking you to orgasm?” Her thighs opened farther as a strangled moan whispered past her throat.

“Please,” she whispered, and his cock surged in joy then throbbed in disappointment as he gently closed her thighs.

“Remind me when you’re sober, Terrie.” He stood to his feet, staring down at her shocked expression. “I won’t fuck you drunk. Sober up, then call me. But don’t be surprised if you find out exactly why Sax was at that wedding, and what he’s most likely doing right now to your friend’s climaxing body. You won’t play with me, Terrie,” he warned her softly.

He turned and left the room, then the house. If he didn’t, he knew he would fuck her, knew he would drive his cock so deep and hard inside her she would scream for her orgasm. And he couldn’t. Not yet. She hadn’t seduced him; she didn’t want it enough. When she did, well then—he grinned—then he would give her everything he had ever dreamed she could take.

Remind me when you’re sober, Terrie . The words echoed through her head. You won’t play with me, Terrie.

She pushed her fingers restlessly through her red hair as she paced the house. He had left hours before, and she was sober, but she couldn’t find the nerve to pick up that damned phone. She was terrified.

You think I’m bad, her dead husband’s sneering voice echoed around her. I should give you a taste of Jesse, Terrie. Let him share you a time or two with his buddies. Maybe then you would appreciate me more. She shuddered. She appreciated Thomas more dead.

She shook her head as she moved into the small kitchen. She was free of one Wyman and now looking at another. Was she insane? And what was worse, she was looking at Jesse. The same Jesse who had fucked her best friend’s daughter. The same Jesse who had been her friend for the last three years. She shuddered as the thought repeated itself. She had to be crazy.

Jesse was part of a very select group of men. Tess, Ella’s daughter was married to one of them: Cole, Jesse’s best friend. Ella had walked into her ex-husband’s home to find her daughter held between Jesse and Cole in the final throes of an intense ménage.

Terrie had known for years that Jesse was part of this group. There were eight of them. Intensely dominate, charismatic men whose lusts knew few bounds. One of their greater demands was the ménage. The complete surrender and submission of their lovers to the pleasures they could bring them.

Ella, it seemed, had finally given in as well. Tess’s mother had been outraged, furious when she thought Jesse was actually his twin, James, fucking her daughter. She had nearly driven herself crazy with the pain. Loving one of those men was hell. Terrie knew this well.