Exotic Indulgence

Copyright © 2011 Vivian Arend, Lexxie Couper and Jess Dee
All rights reserved — a Samhain Publishing, Ltd. publication

Chapter One

You Are Personally and Cordially Invited to Attend

The Soft Opening of Australia’s Newest FIVE-STAR Luxury Resort

BANDICOOT COVE on Bilby Island.

Bring a plus one if you desire.

 

All expenses and needs will be catered for

as we test our customer services in preparation for the Grand Opening.

Kylie stared at the embossed card once more. The elaborate curlicues and swirls in the resort name twirled like fireworks going off in celebration. She’d really and truly made it. All those years of schooling, of working her way up through hotel after hotel, and here she was, in charge of the hottest, most exclusive resort to hit Australia.

She flipped the card onto her desk and drained the sparkling water in her wine glass in one gulp.

About bloody time.

Three weeks remained until the doors symbolically swung open, and her feet already throbbed—and not in a good way. There were last-minute details to take care of, which included ensuring she could be reached at all times during the soft opening. The practice weekend would be her last chance to make certain any possible disasters were eradicated before the official opening.

God help anyone who interfered with her preparations over the next few weeks.

The view out her window showcased the resort. When she’d demanded a fourth-floor office instead of one of the penthouse units—like most managers nabbed—the rest of her crew had been shocked. Yeah, she’d have been able to see the entire length of Bilby Island. All the way from the sheltered west-side harbor to the eastern shore where white sand beaches met the Pacific Ocean. But this location put her closer to the action. Let her look into the heart of the resort—the actual people moving around it. Staff wandering the grounds, working the pools, arranging tables and chairs in the bars and restaurants below her.

Management required a certain set of skills, not the least of which was the ability to read the subtle nuances in body language, understanding what people said without saying a word. Kylie was an expert. Always had been, and now that skill was going to make Bandicoot Cove a namesake for excellence in the resort business.

A rapid knock on the door sounded and she smiled with satisfaction. Another thing she was known for. Punctuality. A quick glance at her watch showed this should be her majordomo of the restaurants—twenty minutes early for their final meeting, before he went and dealt with his team overseeing the dozen eateries under his administration. Kylie stepped quickly to the door, cursing her heels. These shoes were a write-off. She’d have to give up at least an inch of height to be able to still walk once the weekend was done.

“I’d like to go over your dessert menus one more time. There’s too much repetition in the specialty choices.” Kylie spoke as she pulled the door open, expecting to find Mr. Jamieson. Instead her gaze had to travel higher than expected. Up a crisp white shirt stretched over an obviously well-muscled chest. The top button was undone, with dark curls peeking out. Jaw already showing a hint of shadow in spite of being clean-shaven. Sensual lips, brilliant white teeth. A pair of bright blue eyes that snared her and stole her breath away.

“I’d love to talk about dessert. Sweet, dark chocolate, smeared all over you so I can lick it off, is my first choice.” The husky tone of his voice shot into her ears and melted her spine a little.

“Brad?”

He crowded against her into the room, closed the door behind them, and then she couldn’t admire anything anymore because he had his arms around her and was kissing her senseless.

Warm, wonderfully exciting, toe-curling, pussy-heating excitement hit, and she moaned. It only took an instant to thread her fingers into his hair and lock his mouth against hers. She had absolutely no time for this, and there was no way on earth she was going stop a second before she had to.

He slowed them, moving his tongue to erotically explore her mouth. Stroking, teasing, and making her want to throw the schedule out the window, haul him into her bedroom and not surface until after the soft opening was over.

Brad kissed his way along her jaw line, licking and nipping even as his strong arms took control of her, turning her easily. Her body ended up nestled butt against his groin and he pulled her hipbones to snuggle her tight. Fires flared inside, but she mercilessly stomped them flat. There wasn’t enough time, and she didn’t want to spend the next umpteen hours with soaking wet panties.

“Brad, I need to get back to work.”

One final nip landed on her earlobe before Brad leaned her torso away from him slightly, his hands stroking upward to settle on her shoulders. When he pressed down and started to massage, the words she’d been about to repeat vanished.

“Oh God, that feels good.” All protests vanished. Her ass rested on him, but even more than the thick ridge of his erection, the steady movement of his hands fascinated her. Thumbs digging into her tight muscles, followed by lighter caresses outward.

Brad hummed softly. “I know your schedule, and you have enough time to take a few minutes for yourself. I bet you didn’t even stop for breakfast, did you?”

Kylie tilted her head to the side, mentally urging him to return to the spot he’d hit a second before. Right…right… “…There. Don’t stop. And I didn’t eat yet. I will.”

Once the damn resort was up and fully operational.

With less than a month left before the grand opening, Kylie was taking no chances. The practice run—the soft opening—had been approved by the board six months earlier. Now they were down to the nitty-gritty of making their exclusive clientele not only happy, but sinfully, enthusiastically, over-the-top passionate about Bandicoot Cove, just like Kylie was.

Brad kissed her nape, the magic in his fingers dissolving the knots that had built over the past months. “You won’t be any good to anyone if you don’t stay healthy.”

“Yes, mother.”

Brad laughed and tugged her towards the couch. She stepped slowly, her feet protesting mightily.

He stopped and stared at her. “What’s wrong?”

She kicked off one shoe and groaned in relief. “I’m test-driving shoes for the opening. Those went from zero to sixty in terms of pain in the past hour—oh!”

He scooped her up, one arm supporting her back, one under her knees as he carried her to the couch. “Damn sexy.”

“Sexy instruments of torture.” Kylie held onto his neck, peeking a quick glance at her watch and calculating—Jamieson wasn’t here yet. Maybe she had time for a moment’s break. If she ran behind, she’d simply skip lunch as well.

His strong body rubbed hers as he lowered her to the overstuffed cushion, and he lingered over their thigh-to-thigh contact. “I’m happy to report that the harbor is coming along nicely. All the final points will be in place for your inspection by the end of next week.”

Paradise Found

Copyright © 2011 Vivian Arend
All rights reserved — a Samhain Publishing, Ltd. publication 

Chapter One

You Are Personally and Cordially Invited to Attend

The Soft Opening of Australia’s Newest FIVE-STAR Luxury Resort

BANDICOOT COVE on Bilby Island.

Bring a plus one if you desire.

 

All expenses and needs will be catered for

as we test our customer services in preparation for the Grand Opening.

 

(Hey, brat.

I’m assigning you one of the penthouse suites since you said you needed room for three. What the hell are you up to?

You so owe me.

Love, Kylie)

Trent dropped the engraved invitation back into his shirt pocket and dug out the access code he’d been given for the computerized keypad. The door eased opened as he pressed on it with one shoulder, glancing around at the high-class suite he’d been given to “check for bugs”.

He was less interested in finding holes in his sister’s service department and more concerned about this being an extended weekend to remember. He needed the setting to be perfect, or Paige would tie his balls in a knot and kick his arse into the drink when she discovered what he and Mason had done.

Vast open space met his gaze, and his first impression of the enormous penthouse suite brought a string of admiring swear words to his lips. He’d never seen a hotel room this size, and he’d barely stepped into the living room. Leather and chrome were everywhere, with thick, cushiony carpeting underfoot. Three luxurious couches were grouped around an enormous coffee table. The entire corner of the room was floor-to-ceiling windows that let in the bright Queensland sunshine and revealed the sparkling waters of the Pacific Ocean.

A perfect place to create some memories, and hopefully do a little convincing.

One final pivot returned him to his starting point. He slung his bag to the floor and strode into the kitchen, passing a huge basket of fruit in a crystal bowl set on the high counter. There were chocolates as well, and a quick peek in the fridge revealed a bottle of champagne nestled beside a wide assortment of cheeses and other goodies. He grabbed the card off the bottle.

Thanks for being there and supporting me along the way, little bro. You’re the best.

Kylie

 

Trent nabbed an apple from the bowl, polished it on his shirt and took a bite of the crisp fruit as he stepped to stare out the windows. A tiny piece of paradise—that’s where he was. Thanks to his sister’s plum role as manager, he and his best mate, Mason, were in for three full days of rest and relaxation, followed shortly by the trip of a lifetime.

As long as Paige went along with their master plan. She’d always been adaptable before. Of course, this was a little more involved than arranging to get together for a surf-and-sex holiday.

A soft noise disturbed him, and he swung toward the hallway that extended into the back half of the penthouse. An enormous king-plus bed lay behind the first door, plump pillows littering its surface. Luxurious fixtures were everywhere, and through an open door on the far side of the room, a gilded mirror reflected a massive tub. Sunlight streamed in to paint everything with shimmering gold, and once more he was reminded exactly how out of place he was in these surroundings. Of course, he wasn’t going to argue with getting to show Paige a good time, but the modest apartment he shared with Mason in Newcastle was more his style. Or the sturdy yacht they’d just bought. This?

Unreal.

The intriguing noises continued, so he stalked deeper into the suite, catching sight of movement behind a slightly ajar door.

Holy moly.

There was a maid still cleaning the room, but he’d always assumed those get-ups were only found in skanky magazines and porn flicks. Black net stockings covered her shapely legs, secured with garter belts that disappeared under the black frill of a skirt circling her flared hips. Strangely familiar hips that twitched back and forth as she strutted around the edge of the room, flickering a feather duster along the picture frames and side table.

The feather duster wasn’t nearly as intriguing as the five-inch heels gracing her long legs. And when she walked, her ass wiggled from side to side in time with the lusty song she sang. Dirty words, nicely in tune with the thoughts running through his brain. Oh, she couldtake it off if she wanted to. He’d have no complaints.

Bloody brilliant woman.

He pushed the door open and stepped into the entranceway. Paige twirled and straightened with a gasp, her long black braids flying as one hand snapped up to cover her mouth like some old-fashioned modest heroine. The laughter and smoldering heat in her eyes said there was nothing modest about what she wanted.

Trent drew in a deep breath through his nose, picking up a trace of her perfume. Sweet, yet spicy. He reached over and tugged her ear buds free, the music spilling loose, loud enough to echo off the walls. She licked her lips, then removed the iPod tucked in her waistband and tossed it on the side table.

When she took a deep breath, his erection filled to the point of pain, crowded tight against the front of his boardies. He’d gotten aroused when he spotted the fishnets—any man would. But knowing who was flirting with him, hell, she could arouse him in a freezing rainstorm with only one of her smiles.

And Paige wasn’t just smiling. She had wiggled closer, the scoop of her cleavage propped above the edge of her frilly white blouse. Tucked in at the waist, the damn thing emphasized the difference in size between her trim waist and firm tits. God, she had gorgeous tits.

Bonjour, monsieur. I’m sorry, I wasn’t quick enough getting things tidied in here. Un moment.”

He reached for her, but she’d already spun out of his grasp. Hmm, it seemed she wanted to play. Paige peeked over her shoulder as she approached the bed. Her duster fell unminded to the floor as she leaned way over to adjust the pillows and straighten the cover.

Her skirt rode up to reveal two smooth cheeks and a glimpse of a bare mound, and Trent lost it. He tore across the room and covered her with his body. One hand locked her in place, fingers gripping her breast. The other landed on her upper thigh, sneaking under her excuse for a skirt to yank her hard against his groin.

“I need you to do a few more things before you leave, if you don’t mind.”

Paige purred as she undulated against him. “That’s exactly what I hoped you’d say.”

Tropical Sin

Copyright © 2011 Lexxie Couper
All rights reserved — a Samhain Publishing, Ltd. publication

Nick Blackthorne weaved his way through the smattering of guests milling around the Bandicoot Resort’s massive reception area, a small smile curling at the corners of his mouth. It wasn’t the fact he was here, at the soft opening of the resort, that made him happy, nor the fact he was walking around without a minder or bodyguard or groupie to be seen. It was simply because the woman laughing behind him had a delightfully throaty, infectious laugh.

He stopped himself from shooting a look over his shoulder, concentrating instead on finding the correct passageway that would lead him to the Oasis Bar. He was a touch jetlagged and needed something more than coffee to wake up.

A touch? You’ve been on one plane or the other for the last three days. You’re more than jetlagged, you’re jet-freaking-dragged-through-the-turbines stoned. Besides, the need for something more than caffeine has nothing to do with jetlag. You just want to sit out in the sun and pretend you’re a normal person for a short while, don’t you?

He smiled wider. The truth was always less sensational. It had been a long time since he’d been able to sit at a bar and relax. When his agent had offered him the chance to attend the resort’s soft opening he’d jumped at it. Minimum number of guests, all hand-picked by the hotel’s manager, all—Frankie assured him—too discreet or important in their own rights to worry about him being in their presence. A nice change from where he’d just been, that was for sure.

The thought made his smile falter. A little. He wasn’t going to let his mind turn to where he’d just been. Not when he was walking through Eden.

Ah, so the romantic you used to be is still buried in that craven pit you call a soul, is he?

Behind him the woman laughed again, another low, throaty chuckle and, before he could help himself, Nick turned.

Whoa.

She was only a few feet behind, grinning up at a guy almost half again her height, her long, strawberry blonde hair a flaming halo in the sun’s warm rays, her pink lips stretched in a grin that said very clearly, “Yes, I am completely in charge of this situation.”

Nick let his gaze flick to her companion, noting with an experienced eye the man’s latent strength in his six-foot-plus form, his fluid, steady movements, and his utter adoration for the woman gripping his arm.

Christ, they were a sexy couple. Damn sexy.

He scowled, turning away from the young lovers. There was a time he’d have walked straight on up to them and suggested something far more depraved than either could probably imagine. Something very dirty and very enjoyable. That time had passed, however.

The woman laughed again, the delicious sound accompanied by a lower, deeper chuckle. The guy’s laugh. Relaxed. Easygoing. Coming up from his chest to slip past his lips in a humored rumble. Equally as infectious as hers.

He drove his nails into his palms and scanned the lush gardens on the other side of the glass wall. Where the hell was this bar? Somewhere outside beside a pool? He needed a drink.

No, not a drink. You need—

A face of an angel with filth on her mind,

I pray to burn in her fire,

I pray to die in her arms.

The words—lyrics of a song he hadn’t written yet—whispered through Nick’s head and he raised his eyebrows, his heartbeat quickening. Just as it had been too long since he could relax in public, it had been even longer since words of music came to him. Whoever the redhead was, she stirred something in him.

Yet the arms of her lover reach out for more.

Like a sinner I will burn in his fire,

I will die in his fire as she pleads for more.

Nick came to a halt, the unexpected lyrics floating through his head. It seemed they’d bothstirred something in him he hadn’t felt for a long time, not just the woman.

The whisper of a rhythm teased him and he closed his eyes, a familiar sensation stirring in the pit of his gut. Carnal thoughts and lyrics? Coming to Bandicoot Cove really was a good—

“Excuse me, but can I ask you a question?”

The soft, husky voice speaking beside him could only belong to one person. Opening his eyes, Nick turned around, leaving his sunglasses firmly in place as he fixed his gaze on the flame-haired woman smiling up at him. This close she wasn’t just sexy, she was stunning. Stunning and gorgeous. As was the man standing next to her, his expression unreadable, that sleeping strength radiating from him in waves of…

Like a sinner I will burn in his fire,

I will die in his fire and beg her for—

“You’re Nick Blackthorne, yes?”

The woman’s question took Nick by jarring surprise. It shouldn’t have, but with the words of a hidden song taunting him and the unexpected lick of sexual interest teasing him, he wasn’t prepared. Especially for what she said next.

“I’m McKenzie Wood from Goss Weekly.” Her clear blue eyes turned direct. Intent. “I’m wondering if you’d like to comment on your stay at the Vergnügen sex clinic in Germany?”

Island Idyll

Copyright © 2011 Jess Dee
All rights reserved — a Samhain Publishing, Ltd. publication

“Josh?” Sienna asked tentatively.

He nodded. “In the flesh.”

And, oh, dear Lord, what flesh it was. If the teenage Josh had made her blush like a fool, the very adult version made every nerve ending stand to attention. At sixteen, he’d been cute. At thirty, he was full-blown sex on a stick.

He sat with a thunk on the deck chair Kylie had just vacated and shook his head in wonder. “If you weren’t the star feature in every wet dream I ever had…”

Her eyes popped open. “If I wasn’t what?”

“My wet dream every night for years,” he said, his gaze roaming over her face. “How are you, Si?”

She blinked several times, processing his words, his presence leaving her staggered.

Josh was here. On the island. Josh Lye. Or, as she, Mack and Kylie had called him, JoshLie-With-Me. Hmm, nope, hang on. She was the only one who’d called him that, and only when he wasn’t anywhere near. Ky and Mack had called him Josh Lie-With-Si.

Sienna had only had a crush on him the entire way through high school. She’d have shed her good-girl image in a second if even once he’d shown her any interest. Hell, she’d have tossed her much-cherished virginity aside in a heartbeat for just five minutes with him.

God, she hadn’t seen him in…twelve years.

“I…I’m okay.” She finally found the presence of mind to answer his question. “You?”

His gaze dropped to her chest and then slowly made its way down to her thighs. A grin tugged at his lips. “Good. Never better.”

Sienna frowned. “You know, you have some kind of cheek, mister.”

He cast her a questioning look. “I do?”

“Where do you get off making me the center of your wet dreams, anyway?”

“Where do I get off?” His lips twitched, as though he tried to repress a bark of laughter. “Uh, you really need me to answer?”

Sienna resisted the urge to drop her head in her hands and cover the blush she knew blossomed on her cheeks. Darn, that was so not what she’d meant. “Listen up, mate, I haven’t seen you in forever, and you greet me with an explicit insight into your teenage fantasies. Nice. Real nice.” Oh, yeah, real nice. It would have been nicer to know when she was a teenager too. When he’d been the main feature of every one of her adolescent dreams.

Josh’s gaze dropped to her chest again, the exact place where her cleavage spilled over the top, and he let out a low wolf whistle. “Not just a teenage fantasy. I strongly suspect you’re gonna be the center of a full-blown adult wet dream tonight as well. Mine.”

She gaped at him. “You didn’t just say that.”

His eyes twinkled as he winked. “I always did like the way you blushed in school. How quickly those cheeks filled with color. Seems like nothing’s changed.”

Apparently nothing had changed. She’d blushed as a teenager every time Josh had walked into a room, and she was blushing again now. It was like her body couldn’t deny her attraction to him.

Josh eyed her sexily. “I still like how you look when you blush. Like a mixture of a Penthouse centerfold and an innocent kid.”

She snorted. “I’m thirty years old. Hardly an innocent kid.”

“Which leaves just the Penthouse centerfold.”

She opened her mouth to retort and realized she was struck speechless.

A rumble of laughter filled the air. “There it is again. The trademark Sienna James blush.”

“Damn it, you’re doing this on purpose. You haven’t changed one bit, have you?”

Josh shook his head. “Nope, I was crazy about you in school, and after spending two minutes with you now, I’m crazy about you all over again.”

“Pffft.” She dismissed his comment with a flick of her wrist, although she couldn’t hide her smile. Or deny the tug of awareness that flickered through her belly and lower. It was the first tug she’d felt for anyone other than Ben in a seriously long time. “What are you doing on the island?”

“Time.” He grimaced. “Two months hard labor.”

“You work here?” Would surprises never cease?

He nodded. “It’s been hell, I tell you. Hell. I’m forced to swim every morning, sail a cat at sunset, dive on weekends and run barefoot along the beach every lunch hour. It’s killing me.”

She gave him a commiserative nod. “I can see the toll it’s taken. You look awful.” Awful good. He looked downright lickable. Sienna could only thank her lucky stars the waitress arrived with her daiquiri at that moment. Otherwise, she would, without a doubt, have licked him.

Not all over. Just a little sample of his neck. And maybe his lips. And, if she could just get that T-shirt out of the way, then maybe a nipple as well.

Sienna. Concentrate!

She took a very long sip of daiquiri and shoved all thoughts of licks, lips and nipples aside. “So, what hard labor have you been sentenced to?”

“Installing the computer network.” He shook his head and scowled. “Wanna know the worst part of all? They may make it a life sentence. The hotel needs a permanent IT person on staff, twenty-four seven.”

He grinned then. An outrageously sexy grin. A grin that made her want to lick him all over again. Everywhere.

“What did I do to deserve this kind of punishment?” he asked her. “What?”

“I’m sorry. You must have been a very bad boy.” She laid her hand over his in mock comfort and jerked as a jolt of heat shot through her palm.

“I was a very bad boy.” His eyes danced. “And I grew into a very bad man. Want to see proof?”

Yes! Every instinct she possessed yelled in her head. She’d wanted proof when she was a teenager, and she wanted proof now. Hell, proof with Josh would be a fantastic way of taking that final step away from Ben.

She suppressed her base needs and clung to her common sense instead, taking another sip of her drink for fortification. “I’d rather see proof of your sailing skills,” she told him. “I saw the cats out on the beach earlier. I’d have taken one out on my own, but since I have no idea how to sail and would probably flip the Hobie and drown myself, I figured I’d better not take a chance.”

“Fair dinkum? You wanna go sailing with me?” He turned his hand palm up, and Sienna belatedly realized she’d forgotten to move her arm away. Before she could motivate herself to do just that, Josh clasped her hand in his.

She bit her cheek, refusing to focus on the warmth of his skin as it wrapped around her hand. “That depends.”

He raised an eyebrow. “On what?”

“You gonna talk any more about those wet dreams you used to have?”