Batteries Not Required

Batteries Not Required by Linda Lael Miller Read Free Book Online

Book: Batteries Not Required by Linda Lael Miller Read Free Book Online
Authors: Linda Lael Miller
eyes. “Who is it?”
    â€œGuess.” Tristan’s voice.
    I hesitated, then padded over and opened the door. “What do you want?”
    He grinned. “Hot, slick, sweaty sex—among other things.” His eyes drifted over my towel-draped body, and something sparked in them. He let out a low whistle. “Lake’s all ours,” he drawled. “Wanna go skinny-dipping?”
    My nipples hardened, and my skin went all goose-bumpy.
    â€œYep,” I said.
    He scooped me up, just like that, and headed for the lake, leaving my room door wide open. I scanned the windows of the motel as he carried me along the dock, glad to see they were all dark.
    I’m all for hot, slick, sweaty sex, but I’m no exhibitionist.
    The lake was black velvet, and splashed with starlight, but the moon was in hiding. Tristan set me on my feet, pulled off the towel, and admired me for a few moments before shedding his own clothes.
    Then he took my hand, and we jumped into the water together.
    When we both surfaced, we kissed. The whole lake rose to a simmer.
    He led me deeper into the shadows, where the water was shallow, over smooth sand, and laid me down.
    We kissed again, and Tristan parted my legs, let me feel his erection. This time, there was no condom. He slid down far enough to taste my breasts, slick with lake water, and I squirmed with anticipation.
    I knew he’d make me wait, and I was right.
    He turned onto his back, half on the beach and half in the water, and arranged me for the first of several mustache rides. Each time I came, I came harder, and he put a hand over my mouth so the whole world wouldn’t know what we were doing.
    Finally, weak with satisfaction, I went down on him in earnest.
    He gave himself up to me, but at the edge of climax, he stopped me, hauled me back up onto his chest, rolled me under him. He entered me, but only partially, and the muscles in his shoulders and back quivered under my hands as he strained to hold himself in check.
    I lifted my head and caught his right earlobe between my teeth, and he broke. The thrust was so deep and so powerful that it took my breath away.
    I’d thought I was exhausted, spent, with nothing more to give, but he soon proved me wrong. Half a dozen strokes, each one harder than the last, and I was coming apart again. That was when he let himself go.
    I don’t know how long we laid there, with the lake tide splashing over us, but we finally got out of the water, as new and naked as if we’d just been created. Tristan tossed me the towel, and pulled on his jeans. We slipped into my room without a word, made love again under a hot shower, and banged the headboard against the wall twice more before we both fell asleep.
    When I woke up the next morning, he was gone, but there was a note on his pillow.
    â€œMy office. Ten o’clock sharp. After the meeting, expect another mustache ride.”
    Heat washed through me. The man certainly had style.
    I skipped breakfast, too excited to eat, and at ten straight up, I was knocking on Tristan’s office door. The buyers and other owners had already arrived, and were seated around the conference table. Tristan looked downright edible in his slick three-piece suit, and even though he was all business, his eyes promised sweet mayhem the moment we were alone.
    The crotch of my pantyhose felt damp.
    The negotiations went smoothly, and when the deposit checks were passed around, I glanced down and noticed my own name on the pay line, instead of Mom’s.
    â€œThere’s been a mistake,” I told Tristan, in a baffled whisper.
    â€œNo mistake,” he whispered back. “Josie signed the whole shooting match over to you.”
    I stared at him in disbelief.
    The meeting concluded amiably, and in good time. Everybody shook hands and left. Everybody but Tristan and me, that is.
    Tristan loosened his tie.
    I quivered in some very vulnerable places.
    â€œEver made love on a

Similar Books

Fall Semester

Stephanie Fournet

Have Gat—Will Travel

Richard S. Prather

The Jade Notebook

Laura Resau

Cursed

S.J. Harper