There are only 26 days till #HotinAruba drops! It’s always fun to imagine who I’d like to play main characters. For Samantha, our main protagonist, she would need to be strong and gutsy… someone who doesn’t take bullshit from anyone. Someone sensible, not prone to fits of hysteria or fantasy. She would need to be down to earth and, of course, incredibly sexy. I think Katheryn Winnick would do the job very nicely.
I’m thrilled to share the tantalizing trailer for Hot in Aruba!
So sexy. ;D
Trying something COMPLETELY new here…
What do you think?
Music pulsed. Strobes flashed. Sweat dripped between my breasts and down my sides as I gave over to the bass, letting it move my hips, orchestrating my arms and legs to its hypnotic siren’s call. Drunk as fuck, I wandered lost in my racing heart beat, watching Emma move.
She took control of the song, wrapping it around her tight curves, bending and drawing my attention to every inch of her. She teased the edge of impropriety, flirting with sensuality, her dance provocative and addictive to watch.
She drove me insane. I couldn’t get enough. She occupied my dreams and filled my days with visions of tanned skin and a radiant smile that made me yearn for another taste of her. She drove me to distraction until I couldn’t focus on anything or anyone else.
She sidled up to me. Her chest pressed against mine, her groin grinding into my thigh as she straddled my leg. She glanced at me from beneath long dark lashes, a playful smirk flitting across her full lips. I knew that look well—a blazing image portending the promise of requited passion—and my stomach tightened. My hands ached to touch her bear arms, to run my fingernails through her raven black hair. The air sparked and crackled between us, an electrical current, raising the hair on my arms, snapping every nerve on edge.
She pulled away, a twist and turn manipulated by the rhythm. My eyes followed, drawing me forward. She controlled the string, a line invisible to all, but it pulled and lured me in until I had her pinned against the railing, my body a shield from the amorphous, grinding, pulsing crowd. She smelled like tropical islands and chocolate, and I leaned in close, inhaling her scent deep into my lungs, kissing the slender curve of her neck.
She held my waist, fingers tucking into the back pocket of my jeans. Her hips moved, enchanting me further, keeping me under her spell. I stroked the back of her neck, my hands fanning out, weaving their way through her hair. Her gaze locked with mine, and she smiled, melting my restraint, every muscle tumbling toward her.
Our lips met, a chaste encounter. Need coursed through my veins, and I cupped her face, holding her captive as I deepened the kiss, reveling in her taste, relishing her tongue teasing mine.
A million people ebbed around us, but I only saw her. The music slowed, a heavy beat throbbed from the speakers as her fingers slid down the front of my pants, inching their way between my legs. I gasped, losing my balance, as a finger slipped inside me.
“I want you,” she purred in my ear, her teeth grazing the edges.
Lightening fried my thoughts, leaving only a haze of desire in its wake. I gripped the railing, steadying myself as her fingers moved, slow and tortuous in time with the maddening tempo of the song. If we stayed there much longer, I was going to come in the middle of the dance floor.
Breath raged, I bit her lower lip, desperate. “Take me home.” It wasn’t a question or a statement, it escaped as a plea—a reverent prayer. She held the power. She controlled my heart, my body, and my soul completely. There was no going back from this. Everything ordinary would forever seem dull and colourless. Her presence in my life had brought me to the peak of something extraordinary, and I never wanted to come down.
She withdrew her fingers, hooking one around a belt loop, pitching my hips against hers. “Chicken.”
Gauntlet thrown, I snuck my hand down the front of her jeans. Surging moisture greeted me, and my pussy clenched in response. She leaned her head back and moaned, loud enough for others to hear, her brazenness fueling my need. I found her clit and circled the engorged nub, rubbing, pressing, knowing it would be her undoing. She fisted my hair and kissed me with urgency, her body bucking against mine.
Everyone must have known what we were doing, but in that moment, I didn’t care. I couldn’t stop. I could feel her climax building, and my body responded. Like a match to kerosene, my blood caught fire. Her nails bore into my neck, and she held me tight, her legs weakening as her orgasm built. I watched enthralled as her eyes softened and her cheeks flushed.
“Come for me.” I panted.
She let out a gentle cry, her body shattering beneath my touch. I held her there, shoring her up against the waves of people crashing against us. No one seemed to notice our dalliance. The crowd flowed with the strobes, swaying to the rhythm, allowing Emma and I to remain invisible, allowing me to take her to the heights of passion.
Hooded eyes, sexy and heavy with the weight of her release, caught my gaze and smiled. “Your turn.”
“Have you ever craved desire? Not the wanting, but the feeling of being desired. Not by a lover or significant other, but by a stranger, someone who doesn’t owe you years of commitment or who doesn’t feel trapped by layers of guilt and socially acceptable notions of loyalty. Do you long to be looked at with hunger from someone you’ve never met, or perhaps from someone you’ve met only once—in the briefest of glances, the most insignificant of occurrences—but felt that spark, that pull of fate, drawing you together in a snowball’s avalanche of reckoning?
The satin duvet was soft and cool beneath me.
“Lift your arms above your head.”
I grabbed hold of the iron headboard. He kissed my shoulder, planting nips and caresses down my arm. Holding my gaze, he slid the handcuff around my wrist. “Ready?”
“Yes.” I had no idea what to expect this evening. Of course, I knew it would involve sex, but this was beyond my wildest imaginings. I couldn’t keep my legs from writhing a little on the bed. My stomach ached with need.
The arm swung closed and clicked. He tightened the metal until it was comfortable, but gave no measure of escape. He slipped the chain around the headboard and clasped my other wrist. The final click shot fire through my body. I inhaled sharply.
He ran his hands along the sides of my body. My eyes rolled back. “Jesus.”
His whispered words near my ear startled me. “It’s Stephen.”
I smirked. “Stephen.”
His cocky grin turned me to putty. “I like how you say that.” He nibbled my ear then reached back and scooped the blindfold off the bed. “One last detail.” The satin string trailed up my belly and between my breasts as he danced it across my skin.
My fists clenched as he lay the blindfold across my eyes.
“Can you see?” he asked, adjusting the tightness of the ties.
“Good.” His weight lifted from the bed.
I could hear him rummaging through drawers. Every sense was heightened. The smoothness of the duvet skimmed across my body as I wriggled to try and hear what he was doing. The air from the ceiling fans washed over my skin creating goosebumps, and every cell of my being had been reduced to a quivering mass of need.
“I’m here.” His voice drifted from somewhere near the end of the bed. I jumped when something cold pressed into the sole of my foot.
“That’s freezing.” I squirmed away from the onslaught creeping up my leg.
The advance never wavered, and a hand pinioned my leg. The melting path swooped up the inside of my thigh and curved over the soft mound of hair between my legs.
“You’re so hot, you melted my ice cube.” His voice was sullen, sexy.
My body collapsed after being held rigid by tension.
“Ah, but I have more.” A swirl of ice across my nipple sent the bud into a spasm of constriction, and I bucked to set it free. He straddled my waist. “Oh, no. You’re not getting away that easily.” He ran the ice cube down the sides of my ribs, and I screamed. The dripping water trickled around my back, and the shock against my blazing skin was torture.
“You are delightfully ticklish.” Blunt fingernails picked up where the ice left off, skimming the indent of my waist. I tried to kick him off.
“Do you want me to stop?” He sounded amused.
“No,” I replied with undignified panting.
His weight shifted and something soft with several tails swept over me. “This is a called a bondage whip.”
“Stephen.” This was quickly going in a direction I wasn’t ready to take it.
“I won’t hurt you. I promise.”
I couldn’t see him, couldn’t read the sincerity in his face, but I sensed it in his voice.
“Open your hand for me.”
It took a concerted effort to loosen my grip, but I did as he asked.
“I’m going to use the whip across your palm. Let me know if it hurts.”
Before I could protest, the whip snapped into my skin. I gasped, and wetness pooled between my legs.
“Did it hurt?”
“I’m going to tease your thighs. Are you ready?”
“Oh fuck.” I resumed my death grip on the headboard.
A slap crackled through the air, heightening my senses, but the impact was delicious. No pain, just skin becoming more alive.
“Good?” he asked.
A series of nips with the whip across my belly and breasts alternated with what felt like feathers. Throughout it all, as each and every inch of my skin screamed with sensation, he avoided the fire burning between my legs.
“Stephen.” I begged. “Please. I can’t take much more.”
“Oh, I think you can hold out a little longer, but I’ll reward you for your good behaviour.” Hands splayed my thighs, and his mouth pressed against me.
“You’re so fucking wet. Jesus, you taste divine.” If he was going for subtle, he seemed to lose himself in his task, and he had to hold my hips down because they were going to jerk right off the bed.
“Oh, my God.” I wanted to explode. I barely grasped reality.
“I know, baby, you’re so close. But not yet.” He left the bed, and I could hear another drawer open. Sweat pooled between my breasts, and my hair matted against my forehead. Something wild and primal had taken over, and I wanted to lose myself in its delicious chaos.
“Have you ever played with your G-spot?” he asked.
“I’ve tried, but I’m never sure if I’m doing it right.” This was humiliating.
“I love that blush.” He kissed my lips, and I devoured the silken warmth of him, my tongue lashing out to meet his. I tasted salt and sweetness. I tasted me. I’d never done that before. The thought made me heady.
He pulled away. “You are making this incredibly difficult to go slow.”
“I don’t want slow.” There. I did it. I had been reduced to whining.
He laughed. “After this orgasm, we can ramp up the pace, but this first one has to be perfect. I want you to be putty in my hands.”
More orgasms? Dear God, I wasn’t sure I was going to make it through this one! I wanted him so badly, I would have done just about anything to quench this suffocating thirst.
“Have you used a vibrator before?” A gentle hum filled my ears.
“Yes.” If he used a vibrator on me, I might literally come undone.
“Good.” He released one of my wrists, but clamped the open jaws around the headboard to keep one hand restrained. He placed the vibrator in my free hand and directed it to my clit. “I want you to hold it there. No matter what you do, do not ease up the tension. Understand?”
I couldn’t speak. I nodded.
“It may feel overwhelming, but don’t stop. Ride it out for me, all right?”
“I’ll try.” It came out as hoarse croak.
His lips caressed mine, and he held my hand against my clit as the vibrator thrummed through me. I didn’t think it was possible for my eyes to roll back any further in my head, but I might have managed.
He slid down my body, and a finger dove deep inside me. I cried out, my back arching.
His movements were slow, deliberate. He was pressing hard against my insides. My body hummed. “Hold on, Stephanie.”
“It’s too much.” I couldn’t take it. There was so much sensation.
His finger coaxed with even pressure and relentless rhythm. The vibrator slipped from my clit. He reached up and helped me find the right spot. “Right there, baby. Keep it there.”
“I can’t.” I wanted to die. I wanted to dissolve. My legs shook and spasmed.
“Yes, you can.”
Pressure made my head want to burst. Everything in my being wanted to let go, but I held back. Fear crept in and reared its ugly head.
“It’s just me, Stephanie. Let yourself go. Give in to the feeling.”
I closed my eyes tight and pushed all thought from my mind. I focused on everything my body was telling me. It wanted this. I forced my mind to take a backseat to the wild rollercoaster ride of pleasure. The climax built. My toes curled and tensed. “Stephen.”
“Now. Come for me, now, Stephanie.”
“Oh my God.” A wave of pleasure ripped through me so violently that I screamed and bucked. My eyes clamped tight, and the vibrator slipped from my hand. His mouth crashed into swollen lips and another crest blindsided me, propelling me over a precipice so high I didn’t think I could ever come down. For a moment, he merely caressed my hair.
He removed the blindfold as tremors continued to pulse through me and left the bed, returning a moment later to unclasp my hand. The handcuff slipped from my wrist and I lay there limp, shaking and incoherent. “Stephanie,” he whispered in my ear.
“Mmmhmm?” I was wrapped in a warm honey glow that I never wanted to end.
“Are you ready to do that again?”
I reached out, threaded my hand through his hair, and pulled him into me. “Definitely.”
Because the first story is so long, I decided to break it up into two bits. Here then is part one. You’ll have to wait until next week for the climax (lol, see what I did there).
DISCLAIMER: Remember this is a first draft, hot-off-the-press, unedited version. Enjoy the ride.
“Good afternoon, Stephanie. Is it all right that I call you that? Thank you for coming.”
“Stephanie is fine.” I fidgeted in my chair and smoothed down my skirt for the millionth time. Mrs. Murphy looked respectable in Dolce and Gabbana, dark-framed glasses and a tailored pant suit, her long brunette hair pulled back in a bun. Why on earth was I here?
“Try not to be nervous,” she said.
“I’m sorry. I’ve just never done anything like this before.”
She clasped her hands over the manila file folder with my name written on it. “We are a service of firsts.” Her smile was warm.
The space resembled any other commercial building: lots of glass and greys. Mrs. Murphy’s office looked out over the city, revealing people as specks of dust and trucks as dinky cars. I glanced at a door off to the left and behind her desk. Was that where everything happened?
“We have a private location for our encounters.”
Her uncanny ability to read my mind caused sweat to drip between my breasts.
“I thought you’d like to know, I’ve assigned one of our finest personal attendants to oversee your experience with us.”
“Oh.” I couldn’t manage more than that.
“Would you like to see his picture?”
That piqued my interest. I didn’t know if I’d get to find out anything about him before our… well, our date. I grimaced. Date sounded innocent. This was anything but. I’d come to Pleasure Incorporated for very non innocent longings. It was a secret club of sorts. They didn’t advertise, and only referrals from previous clientele earned you an interview with Mrs. Murphy. My girlfriend Amy was the one who told me about them. I couldn’t believe she’d done something like this. Now, I couldn’t believe I was considering doing something like this. Hell, I’d already committed to it, signed the confidentiality contract and everything. Paid the fees in full.
I leaned forward in the chair as she slid an 8×10 glossy my way. I turned it over and whistled. He was beautiful—strong jaw, dimples, shoulder-length dark brown hair, warm eyes, and the body of an Adonis. I swallowed and handed back the photo. I left clammy finger prints on the edges of the film.
She placed a standard white letter envelope on the desk. “Inside is the private location for your meeting tonight. You will need the card key to enter the building and your room. You are to meet Stephen in the lobby at 5:00pm. On your questionnaire, you mentioned wine would be a welcome addition. You will enjoy a quiet dinner together first, get to know one another a little bit. The conversation will help to put you at ease and open you up to the events of the evening. All the details are outlined in the enclosed letter.”
I dropped my head in my hands.
“There is no need to be embarrassed. Stephen has been briefed and is more than qualified to meet your needs.”
Her chair rolled back. I looked up to find her standing, hand outstretched. I followed suit.
Her handshake was firm. “It’s our policy to ensure all aspects of your fantasy are met with the utmost respect and professionalism. But I can assure you. You will enjoy yourself tremendously. Stephen will take good care of you.”
My grip on the envelope caused the paper to roll over the firm plastic card inside. I stared at the flashing numbers as the elevator descended. I couldn’t believe I was about to do this. I should kill Amy for suggesting this. My biggest sexual woe was that I’d never had an orgasm with another person. It’s not like it was the end of the world. I’m sure I would have had one eventually. Perhaps when I met the right guy and felt comfortable in his arms. Amy thought my ‘problem’ was sexual heresy and that I needed a ‘good, hard’ reckoning. This insane situation was her solution.
I passed a lobby full of people going on about their day, flustered that at any moment one of them would look at me and know what I was about to do. Do they even know what the company on the thirty-third floor did? P. Incorporated was all it said on the huge information board behind the security desk. I shuffled down the sidewalk and ducked inside my car. The meter was flashing, but there was no ticket. Thank God. How would I explain that one?
I opened the envelope and pulled out the card. I scooted forward and tucked it in my back jean’s pocket. I unfolded the letter and scanned the pertinent details. My room was ready immediately, and the Pleasure Motel was located an hour northeast from downtown. The letterhead called the place the Country House, but the sleazy label wrapped itself around my mind and held on. I programmed the address into my GPS and headed toward the highway. I’d packed my bag yesterday but brought way too much stuff. What on earth does one bring or wear to a sexual escapade? I suspected other than making sure my breath was minty fresh with toothpaste, there was very little I’d use in my overnight bag. I’d bought some sexy lingerie, but the more I dwelled on it, the more ridiculous the purchase seemed. Would he just throw me down? Would he rip off all my clothes? I wiped a hand across my face. This was such a bad idea. I picked up my phone and dialed into the Bluetooth.
“Hello?” Amy’s voice echoed on the other end. She must be driving too.
“This is such a bad idea,” I said.
“Nonsense. This is a step forward for all women kind. You can’t have your girl bits all shrivelled and lifeless like that. She needs to be set free and soar.”
“It’s not an eagle, for fuck’s sake; it’s a pussy, and cats can’t fly.” I took the off ramp and veered north.
“Only because your canary hasn’t learned to sing.”
I snorted. “This is the most ridiculous conversation I’ve ever had with you. And that’s saying a lot.”
“Steph. Trust me. By tomorrow morning, your world outlook will have changed. You won’t be the girl afraid you’ll never come. You’ll know it can happen, and you’ll revel in the feeling and the experience. Who have they hooked you up with?”
I didn’t bother pointing out how tawdry ‘hooked up’ sounded. “His name is Stephen. Looks like a Greek god.”
“I had a guy named Paul. Blond and tall as fuck.”
Amy had her encounter last year. I only learned about it a few months ago. As her best friend, I gave her a serious brow beating for the secrecy. She redeemed herself (according to her) by talking me into trying an experience myself.
The company only took on one client a week, which didn’t make any sense to me. If the demand was there, why delay? I’d had to wait over two months before I received my appointment. As much as I wanted to know the reason behind the wait, I didn’t ask. The less I knew about this organization the better. I wasn’t even sure it was legal.
I shuddered and pushed the thought from my mind. As soon as I made the clandestine call to the agency, I was sent lots of paper work to fill out, including a manifesto of past sexual experiences and health history. The company’s mission statement and policies were well laid out in the welcome package, including the rigorous screening and medical standards mandated for their personal attendants. At least I could be confident Stephen was clean.
“I have no idea how I let you talk me into this.” I still had a long drive ahead of me, but the green spaces were opening up now, and the concrete jungle was slowly giving way to real trees.
“Because you’re repressed and you need a good lay.”
“Do you have all your condoms?” she asked.
“Yes, Mom, though Mrs. Murphy said they take care of all that.”
“Yeah, she told me that too. I still brought some just in case.”
“Some?” I laughed.
“I had twenty-four hours. I planned on using as many as I could before the clock ran out.”
I heard Amy’s car ding, and she switched to her handheld. “I have to go, babe, but seriously, you need this. Try to let go of the crap in your past. Not all guys are demons.”
“Good. Then go out there tonight and have some fun. Leave stuffy, overthinking Steph in the city. Let the wild child out. You know, the one that goes out drinking and dancing with me. Bring her to the party. Let her loose on Stephen and leave nail marks on the guy’s back.”
I laughed. “I’ll do my best.”
“Atta girl. Have fun, sweetie. Love ya.”
“Love you too, girl.”
She rung off, and my speakers clicked back onto the radio. I turned up the volume and sang, blocking out my objections and doubts. I didn’t let them out of the bag again until I pulled up the long, winding drive that stopped in front of a colonial mansion. Columns, shutters, and trim in white and plaster exterior walls in a soft, welcoming yellow greeted me, as did the gentleman who waited to take my keys and whisk my car away. A bellhop retrieved my luggage and carried it up the front steps.
He waited at the entranceway. “You will need to use your card, Madame.”
“I’m sorry, of course.” I rummaged through my pockets. I wiped my palms on my jeans and tried fishing the plastic out. “Sorry. I’m just nervous.”
“It is all right.”
I studied him out of the corner of my eye. He was handsome and young, and very clearly not from around here. His accent betokened a café by a lazy river, or wine alongside a wicker picnic basket in a flower-filled meadow.
I swiped the card. The light flashed red and the door wouldn’t budge.
“Try again,” he said. “Slowly.”
I just wanted to get the hell inside and hide in my room. I gave the card key another shot. This time, I heard the click, and my friend opened the door for me. “Après vous.”
“Thank you.” I crossed the threshold and took a moment to appreciate the dark-stained hardwood flooring and grand staircase before me. We were in a wide atrium and there were two rooms, one on either side of the foyer.
“To the left is the main sitting area. Feel free to bring a book here to read. The light is very good from the large windows.”
I poked my head in to have a look. Floor to ceiling bookshelves ensconced a large stone fireplace.
“To your right is the music room. Do you play?”
A Yamaha ebony grand piano commanded focus. “No.”
He stopped at the bottom of the stairs. “This is the main lobby area. You will meet your personal attendant here at the appropriate time.”
There was a pair of wing back chairs tucked into the curve of the stairwell. I nodded.
He proceeded up the steps, turned right at the landing, and ambled down the long hallway. We passed several doors before stopping at one with the label, Master Suite, in gold font etched in the dark wood. I retrieved the card key again and swiped it in the metal lock. The light flashed green, and my porter opened the door, motioning me inside. I took a moment to process the room while he placed my belongings on a fold out luggage rack.
“Will that be all, Madame?”
I blinked. “Yes, thank you.”
I started to dig in my pockets but he held up his hand. “We do not accept tips. Enjoy your stay.” He bowed slightly and closed the door behind him.
The room was opulent. A large sitting area with couch, wingback chairs, a coffee table, and television sunk two steps down off the main entrance way. A kitchenette with granite countertops, and a large sunroom that opened to a patio with lounge chairs and a hot tub stretched before me. I followed the stone tile floor into the bathroom. The tub could fit three people. A stand up shower, built for two with a rock ledge for sitting, gleamed behind glass doors. The bedroom had a four poster bed, two elegant upholstered chairs, and two wide-paddled ceiling fans. The room looked like it should overlook the ocean. After taking one lingering look at the bed, I hightailed it back out to the sitting room. I checked my watch. I had an hour before I was to meet Stephen. I couldn’t fathom what I was supposed to do with myself for that length of time. I had enough pent up energy to win a marathon, but I couldn’t manage a run, a shower, and still have time to get ready before five. I’d showered before I left home, so it would take me a half hour at most to sachet out the door in time. I opened my bag and laid out my supplies. I could curl my hair. That would take a good twenty minutes in and of itself. Satisfied that I had something to do rather than dwell on what was about to go down, I set to work.
By the time five o’clock rolled around, I had changed into a black dress that dipped low in the back, crept down the front, and swooped around my neck. I paired it with some sky-high heels and my blonde curls. I touched up my make-up, applying mascara and lipstick for that extra oomph and grabbed my small clutch, double checking that the card key was tucked safely inside, along with my compact, lipstick, and a condom. I took a gulping breath and clicked the door shut behind me.