“You promised.” Carrie held up the bra she’d just removed without using her hands.
“Baby.” Jake had seen it, but couldn’t believe it. Her hands had been above the covers the whole time she’d wriggled and shimmied underneath them. “I only promised because I thought you were bluffing.”
Carrie sat up. Her beautiful, round breasts, topped with cherry red nipples, made Jake’s tongue circle in his mouth, wanting a taste. Holding the bra in both hands, she pulled it tight. “This should hold you.” She grinned. “Now give me your wrists, cowboy. It’s my turn on top.” It came out on a purr.
Jake’s staff hardened and swelled and his hips jerked. “On top is one thing, baby. But tying me up with your bra and blindfolding me…I ain’t so sure about that.”
She lay beside him and her lips caressed the spot on his ear that turned him feral. “Let me give you a brief summary of what I’m going to do.”
Her warm, soft breath sent a shiver along his spine. “Yeah?”
“Mmm-hmm.” Her hand slid across his chest. “I’m going to kiss you. Here first…” She made a circle around his nipple with her finger. “And then here…” Her fingertip wiggled into his navel.
His entire body tensed and heated.
“And then I’m going to kiss you…” Her palm flattened on his belly and eased under the covers.
“I did promise…” He held out his hands, wrists together. “And I never go back on a promise.”
Nathan’s little red Lie By Suzzana C Ryan
I was meeting my boyfriend for lunch when I bumped into a man waiting for a Taxi. I knocked his briefcase to the ground and his coffee went south. I was mortified and then managed to look at him and found myself looking into the most magnificent pair of blue eyes I’d ever seen. When my vision adjusted I found that were owned by a ruggedly handsome man, maybe in his mid-thirties and when he smiled at me my stomach churned like butter.
“So sorry,” I told him.
“No problem. Sweet heart, are you hurt?”
“No, just rushing.”
“To meet a boyfriend I presume.”
“Yes.” As I gave him my answer my cell rang. It was a text, he couldn’t make it for lunch.
I sighed, “well not anymore.”
“Lunch date off?”
Did you ever meet someone you felt you knew your whole life? In the middle of New York City he pulled me against him and kissed me soundly. It was magic.
“Lunch?” he asked.
“Room service,” I said.
“Nathan’s mine and yours?”
“Lois,” I answered.
We ordered room service and spent the afternoon in bed. When I went to kiss him my red bra came between us. When I held it up, he said “always liked red, and did you know a physic once told me the woman of my dreams would be wearing red.”
He was such a liar. But after twenty years of loving him, I still have that red bra.
Untitled by Elissa Daye
Miranda picked at the lacy edge of her skirt, and stared at her fingers when he walked back into the room. What was she thinking? When she had entered Madame Luca’s she had no idea what would be in store for her. Her friend Deirdre had recommended the secret club to her last week, stating that Miranda’s lack of inspiration was due to her tightly wound coils. Miranda was not usually a risk taker, but she was desperate. If she wanted to keep her job at Tinley & Barton, she would have to draft a building so spectacular that they would consider making her a partner and letting go might actually make that possible.
When a flutter of fabric fell to the ground, Miranda raised curious eyes. What did he say his name was? Raymond? Miranda licked her dry lips unconsciously and tried to avert her eyes, but the specimen before her was hard to ignore, like a male Adonis sculpted from the finest clay.
“Seen enough?” His voice was smoky and sensual, a timber made for loving. He moved closer, his dark brown eyes searching for hesitation. His hands reached for hem of her shirt and he lifted it over her head effortlessly. Her skirt soon followed, leaving her exposed in her new red lingerie. His gaze roamed over her body and chills tickled her spine. When his mouth came closer to hers, she almost pulled away uncomfortable with the intimacy of the moment, but his warm lips prevailed.
REAL PORN by Lizbeth Selvig
She knew she was lucky—a woman who needn’t dread Valentine’s Day, Cilla Blackstone—wife of the exquisite Rhys, mother of three—who could, so said friends, still give supermodels pangs of envy. The Valentine’s Queen. Every year decorations and special treats for her four men. But lately with the sports, the volunteering, and Rhys’s damn new job—she might have a Downton Abbey-sounding name but life was far more Survivor.
Now she was supposed to crawl into bed with a husband so tired he’d barely agreed to their unbreakable Valentine’s night date? She stared at him snuggled into their soft white cotton sheets. Bare-chested and, lord, still so incredibly handsome, he snored softly.
His voice startled her. “I have a confession.”
“Oh?” She slipped beside him, but his hands stayed under his pillow.
“I tried this weekend to do something helpful, what you call women’s porn—in my case, laundry. That bra you love? The lacy one you’ve searched for all week?”
Relief and welcome humor flowed through her. “You gave it to another woman.”
He laughed. “Worse.”
With sudden insight, she dug beneath his pillow, felt fabric and yanked. Her pristine bra was pure red. She dangled it above them, and laughter bubbled forth like a cleansing bath.
“It was hooked to Joey’s red practice jersey. I didn’t see it.”
It was the sexiest Valentine’s present she’d ever received. Tossing it, she launched herself into his arms. “Well, buster,” she said. “Just for this—you’re going to pay.”
Zoe’s Fantasy by Lee Ann Sontheimer Murphy
“So,” Zoe said as she flourished the red scrap of lingerie above Marcus. “Who does this belong to?”
“Isn’t it yours?” He had to know it wasn’t, not when everything she’d worn lay scattered across the carpet. “No. Red’s not my color.”
Marcus flushed but Zoe couldn’t tell whether anger or embarrassment fueled it. God, she shouldn’t have said anything. So she came home with him after a party, a little drunk, a bit high and shared mind blowing sex. She’d known twelve hours, maybe less. Who he screwed wasn’t really her concern. Zoe parted her lips to apologize but he spoke. “It’s Belinda’s.”
“Oh.” She didn’t know or care who Belinda might be. “I guess I should get dressed and go.”
“Don’t. I can call her – she’ll come over.”
That would be the last thing Zoe wanted, some other lover, maybe Marcus’ girlfriend to retrieve what was hers – silk and male both. “That’s okay.”
His rich dark eyes met hers. “I don’t think you understand, Zoe. Belinda’s my neighbor and she’s into ménage. I thought maybe we could do a threesome.”
She’d never admitted her fantasy to anyone but Zoe often imagined a sexy hunk of man, another woman. Sandwiched between them would be the ultimate. “I, uh, well, maybe.”
His eyes radiated heat. “You’ll like it, I bet.”
Zoe tingled, her skin as sensitive as if she burned with fever.
“Call her - I’m ready for something new.”
Sometimes fantasy turns real, she mused, with sweet anticipation.
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