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A moment of passion, a ‘sexcerpt’ from Emma Calin’s steam suspense romance ‘Wealth’. This is the first time that Kaitlyn and Randolph make love.  They’re on board the Platinum Demeter – his super yacht, docked on the River Thames in London, just next to Tower Bridge.

The story so far….

Kaitlyn Thorn,  a traffic cop, arrests billionaire banker Randolph Quinn, after he crashes his brand new Maserati into a tree, chased by two figures on a motorbike. He surely seems to be the victim of a targeted attack, but his super-confident manner and cheeky banter arouse her suspicions. She’s left with no choice but to lock him up. This guy is too full of himself. Since that moment her life has been turned upside down. At his request, she’s been assigned to guard him 24/7 at a ‘safe house’. Just who is this guy to demand personal protection – and get it?  But their cover is blown and they just escape a petrol bomb at the new, supposedly secret address. The Albanian mafia is after him and someone on the inside has leaked their location. They’re on the run and now she doesn’t know who to trust.  She’s been ordered to stick with him – whatever happens. Apart from the trouble she’s having keeping him alive,  she’s finding herself increasingly attracted to this dashing wheeler-dealer.  They’re going to make their escape on his yacht – he’s going to pass her off as his latest companion.  She’s not had time to pack – and it’s too risky to return home, After a few hours with his unlimited bank card and a personal shopper in Harrods, she’s all set for whatever is to come…..

Chapter 8

She knew she looked good. The sapphire and diamond earrings sparkled in the light from the chandelier. The ring glinted on her finger. The dress was a perfect fit, the slash running just high enough up her thigh to provide an interested man with a glimpse of her lace trimmed panties. Was she allowing herself to be seduced by wealth, power, and sexual desire? Could her integrity be so easily put at risk? Too damned right it could and she knew it. She looked good, the champagne was a dream and Randolph Quinn was gorgeous. It was time to go through that door.

For a moment he didn’t speak. His hair was still wet and even darker, swept back with an aristocratic insouciance. He had changed into a white shirt accentuated by his tan. A Hermes belt held up his black Zanella handmade trousers. She held his eyes before executing her twirl.
“So, so lovely,” he said with an astonished simplicity. “I thought you’d scrub up well, but you didn’t need much on top of what you’ve got. But bloody hell, how am I gonna keep hold of a girl like you?”
“First you’ll have to get hold of me at all.”
He took a couple of strides and pulled her into his arms. His kiss was as if their lips had once before been molded in the history of a man and a woman. It was a finding of place, some place that you would always crave once you knew it existed. A helpless pulse buzzed in her groin. She let him hold her thrilling spot to the hard muscle of his thigh. She was hot and wet, feeling almost too close, far too close. He groaned a little as her belly pressed into his powerful erection. If he ran his hand now up her bare thigh she would come as they kissed with wet searching tongues. She was holding herself tight, feeling his hard cock pushing against her. She was just holding that pleasure, just too long, couldn’t hold back thinking of his cock jetting his juice into her as she came. She played a hard-core fantasy of him jerking off, helplessly pulsing out his sperm. He held her tight in support as she convulsed against him. My God, she’d just let go. She must be gushing as she growled out the last spasm of her ecstasy into his mouth and onto his softly kissing lips.
“That was so beautiful, such a compliment to a man to think someone so lovely would find pleasure in him.”
“I, I, I sort of wandered off into the long grass,” she said.
“I’ll have to fix up some sort of safari on a really big savannah,” he said with his warm smile. “We need to eat and think about our situation.”
She took a deep breath. Bloody hell, she’d just come kissing him. Maybe he hadn’t realized. Teasy aftershocks still flickered in her own little shaft. His hand ran down across her breasts to her waist. He led her to the door and out onto a swish dining deck with panoramic views and a glass-domed roof. The lights of the coast were sprinkled along a dark horizon.
“That’s Canvey Island and Southend. We’re at anchor in the Thames Estuary. Unless the bad guys have got warships or submarines we can relax here.”
She took in the view. They were at the top of the enormous ship.
“I used to sell burgers at my uncle’s fairground diner on Canvey Island,” she said.
He nodded and smiled, pulling her to him.
“We’re from the same pod, ain’t we? I love the old fairground stuff, the rides, the fried onions, the rifle range sideshows and the cuddly toys. I always dreamed a lovely girl would be on my arm one day and I’d win her the prize teddy. Pity we can’t go ashore.”
He spoke in his normal cheeky way but with an edge of sadness. She pushed her fingers back through his hair and looked up into his eyes.
“You could take a girl to a fair, surely.”
“If I could find the right girl and if my life could ever be normal.”
“Like not being a billionaire on the run from the Albanian Mafia. If you want to talk about your options, I’m your girl.”
He tweaked his eyebrow, but didn’t answer.
“One day we’ll have caviar and lobster thermidor, but tonight I’ve just ordered a couple of big rib eye steaks. Don’t tell me you don’t like fries.”
They took a window table while waiters brought them their meals. The steak was rich and soft. He poured generous glasses of red Chateauneuf du Pape. She took a slug of smooth heaven. Added to the champagne, the wine swept aside her reserve and focus.
“So, Randolph just bloody well tell me why you want me here?”
“I saw you and liked what I saw. I said to myself here’s a brave girl who’s out on her own in a cop car, turning up at whatever happens next. How many girls do you think are interested in billionaires?”
“Dunno, might be a few old slappers I suppose. Generally a sweet virgin like me wouldn’t be interested.”
“And that’s why I want you. Kaitlyn, you’re fucking gorgeous and you know it.”
“I want you to know I play Bingo with my mum, I get drunk and sing karaoke, and, and. And I’m starting to really care about you and I’m fucking terrified that you’re going to hurt me.”
She blew out her cheeks. She was a bit drunk and just saying what she thought. She had never been made to play girl games. He reached out and took both of her hands in his.
“Hurt you? You’re afraid of that?”
“Yeah. Simple. I get swept up in you and you soon see the real boring deal. You won’t want any commitment like all the bloody rotten bastards and users, and I’m there with my fake smile saying I understand. Look Randolph, it’s the wine talking, but shit I don’t care. I should never just open up like this, but I’m afraid of my own helplessness if I want a guy. I know it’s not hip or feminazi to tell you that but that’s how I am. Maybe that’s why I shoot guns, do karate, drive fast cars.”
His eyes were on her face, their kindness almost a caress.
“And why you have that tattoo of Ishtar on your arm maybe?”
She nodded. Had she ever truly thought about the reason?
“She represents female power, but a lot of that power is in the idea of giving love too. It says I’m someone, not a cop. It says I’m all sorts of stuff.”
He turned her arm to see the whole design. He leaned across the table and gently kissed the figure at the groin.
“I can’t say I’ll never hurt you. All I can say is that I won’t ever hurt you by turning away from you.”
“How the hell can you just say that about the future?”
“Because I’m the kind of guy who knows what he wants. If I hadn’t known the future how would I have known you’d want a steak? My powers are supernatural.”
“Your powers are barrow boy bullshit crook.”
“And your powers are burger-flipping karaoke girl.”
He shrugged and held her eyes.
“OK, we’re just two black and white biographies fallen from Facebook into each other’s arms. Face value’s the only sensible price if you don’t want to spend too much. Doesn’t mean we can’t dance, I guess.”
He made a sign and a guy started to play a piano in the far corner of the room. The tune was silky and familiar. She had to. She bloody well had to sing.

With a song in my heart
I behold your adorable face
Just a song at the start
But it soon is a hymn to your grace….

His eyes softened in a way she’d never seen a man react as she sang the song remembered from her father’s vinyl Ella Fitzgerald collection when she’d dreamed of being a real singer, not a girl’s night karaoke queen. She hung onto the notes, watching him grip his bottom lip in his teeth, almost as if he was fighting to hold back emotion.
She finished the song as the piano guy stood up to applaud. Randolph was simply laying his eyes on her face and watching her lips.
“So beautiful. You really can do it, can’t you? You could steal a heart from a man, roast it, carve it for his dinner, and he’d be begging for more.”
“That’s one hell of an image.”
“Worked as a butcher’s boy as a weekend job,” he said.
She smiled. She’d caught him by surprise and he’d changed the mood so as not to show his soul. Maybe, just maybe, he’d been hurt too.
The piano re-started. And there on the dark sea with the land of all their dangers held away for this one night they danced, often lips to lips, threatened only by the terror of love.

Chapter 9

It was 2 a.m. Too late to be in his bedroom, watching him undress, the shirt slipping from his broad, muscular shoulders. This guy had the build of a fighter. He hadn’t dragged her there, hadn’t made her sit on his bed to watch the show. God, he had already made her come in her panties with a kiss. Much more of this and she’d have to deal with her issues herself. He ran his hand over the hard flat muscle of his stomach, letting his fingers stray down under his belt where the first hint of his pubic hair teased up onto his tanned skin. His fingers were at the buckle. Kaitlyn, it’s only sex, it’s only pleasure, she told herself. He was watching her, letting her know that he knew where her eyes were fixed.
“It kind of gets personal in a minute,” he said with a slow smile.
She kicked off her shoes and lay back on the bed, propping herself up on the pillows, wantonly showing her panties.
“I did the cabaret, you do the striptease,” she answered, feeling the excited pulse of her lust in the depth of her belly.
He smiled back, flicking off the buckle and stepping out of his pants. Now he stood before her, his hard cock bursting from his white briefs. Her eyes shot to the slight darkening of the fabric where his man juice had already started to flow. She felt evil, wicked. She let her hand drift to her pouting hot groove. His eyes widened as his own hand slid to his cock. Her fantasy was of his semen pulsing into her hot tube. She closed her eyes, let the image take her. Oh God, he was pulling away her panties, his tongue was teasing and urging her on. She opened her eyes to see his head buried in her groin as the jolts of orgasm doubled her over onto him. For a second she subsided, allowed the tease to build without holding herself tight to bring it on. She looked down again. He was licking her, conscious of her climb to her summit, and jerking his own massive cock. His fingers eased inside her as his tongue drew her on and on. Her own hands went to her nipples sending the final sparks of release to her clitoris. She was letting go without abandon, animal sounds expressing the jungle of her woman soul and lust. His hot cock filled her as she was coming and then built her again to some higher peak from which she could only crash like a massive wave. She heard his deep voice urging her as his hard cock drove in to the limit of her flesh. Her own hand reached for her clitoris. She had to catch his wave as he groaned out his release into the heat of her flesh. She caught that same wave, calling out into the blur of desire and coming, coming, coming into the shallows of a tender kiss and the opening of eyes to see the gaze of love returned.

He didn’t move, didn’t turn away but kept his eyes steady on her face. His voice was slow and deep.
“At last I’ve made love with a woman.”
She smiled.
“You’ve made love to plenty of girls, Mr Quinn.”
“I said made love with,” he replied.
“I guess not too often on the first date. I imagine it’s no use saying I’m not that sort of girl if we assess the evidence.”
“It’s not our first date. You invited me back to your police cell, gave me a cup of tea without even a kiss and left me alone all night and I could have done with your company believe me.”
He lay on his back, pulling her to rest her head on his chest, his arm around her. She’d just forgotten everything she knew about men, about being a cop, about every kind of risk. In the warmth and the illusion of safety in his hold she didn’t care. She simply didn’t care.

For the rest of this story, download the complete book at http://www.smarturl.it/webwealth

If you enjoyed this post, please feel free to share, many thanks. Emma x

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