Emily McKay - Blackmailed Into a Fake Engagement / Tempted Into the Tycoon's Trap - Blackmailed Into a Fake Engagement

She gave a low husky chuckle that tickled his skin and wiggled against him. “Not a bad idea. I’m with you. A mattress is much better than the ground. Maybe it’s something about turning thirty.”

“Speak for yourself. I got over sleeping on the floor by the time I turned twenty-five.”

“That’s because you’re a spoiled Hudson,” she said, rubbing her face against his chest as if she couldn’t resist drowning herself in him.

Something in his gut twisted. “I’m not spoiled. I work my ass off.”

She slid her hand over his bottom. “Feels like it’s still there to me,” she said in a wicked voice.

He gave a short laugh and tilted her head up so he could look into her green gaze. “You are amazing.”

She bit her lip and closed her eyes, then opened them again. “Who, me?”

He shook his head. “How can you not know? You’ve been named sexiest woman of the year.”

She pulled back slightly. “Is that why you wanted me?”

“No,” he said without hesitation. “I want you—” He broke off and shook his head. “I can’t even say all the reasons. For a man who makes his living knowing the right things to say, that’s crazy, isn’t it?”

She exhaled and leaned against him as if she trusted him. “That sexiest woman of the year was wearing a ton of makeup and fake eyelashes for that photo shoot. They put highlighter on the tops of my boobs and positioned me so I squeezed my breasts together to create more cleavage. Fake tan and highlighter on my thighs. Fake me. This is the real me.”

“I like it,” he said. “I want more. If you keep looking at me like that, I’ll forget that we’re lying on sleeping bags in a barn and I’ll take you again.”

She ran her tongue over his lips in a provocative motion that made him grow harder. “Would that be so bad?”

Swearing under his breath, he pulled her on top of him and positioned her over his aching hardness. She slid down, taking him fully inside her.

He moaned in pleasure. Sliding his hands over her round derriere, he flexed his pelvis upward. She sank down and rose above him, then slid down again.

Her breasts brushed his chest. He wanted more, more more… She rose again, her breasts swaying inches from his face. Reaching upward, he took one of her nipples into his mouth. She tasted so sweet and felt like liquid sex, squeezing him, milking him.

He gave in to the erotic motion, devouring her shudders of pleasure, plunging into her. It didn’t take long before the tension inside him became almost painful.

She kept riding him, and it was as if she was determined to squeeze his release from him with her delicious velvet femininity. Luc arched against her in a mind-blowing climax. He should have been done. But he wanted more of her.

The next morning Gwen awakened from a short nap with gritty eyes and a sense of being alive that she hadn’t felt in forever. She turned over the care of Pyrrha to a trusted worker and arranged for a sign to be posted in-structing that the mare’s door remain shut. On the way back to the house, Luc’s cell phone began to ring. After listening to the caller, he shot Gwen a dark look.

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