A Collar for Copper [Tropical Doms 1] (Siren Publishing Ménage and More) Read online

  Now, three and a half hours after she had marched off in a huff, she stood in the exact same place again, only far more desperate. She needed that suitcase. While not as vital to her as her attorney’s case, it held some of her favourite belongings, and she would’ve hated to give all of them up.

  A small part of her brain told her it was stupid to wait, another said she should go back into the courthouse, ask someone there to call the firm, and get Anastasia to call the driver. She still thought of him as her driver and wouldn’t have put it past him to have lied to her to make an impression. With any luck the guy hadn’t sold off her suits and sniffed her underwear yet. She shuddered at the thought of some of the slinkier pieces she owned in the hands of that unappreciative brute.

  “Well, hello there, precious!” The voice had already become familiar, but it sent a jolt through Copper’s body nonetheless. This time it was her nipples that responded most eagerly. Pushing up, they tented the thin fabric of her blouse like little pebbles trapped underneath a sheet. Why had she taken off her jacket? She suddenly felt bare without the protection the thicker garment offered. She shivered as she turned to meet his gaze.

  “Hello.” She still sounded angry. Good.

  “Miss me?” The bastard had the cheek to grin at her, white teeth flashing and blue eyes glittering with amusement.

  “Absolutely not. I’d just like to have my bag.” She bit back the “please.” This wasn’t the moment for politeness, she decided. This was the moment to show this smug, smirking annoyance of a man why she had a reputation as a tough, unforgiving bitch.

  “Wanna go have dinner with me?” he interrupted her little mental rant.

  For a few seconds, she didn’t know what to say. Then the possible answers tumbled over each other on their way out, which meant that she didn’t say anything and just stood there, gaping at him openmouthed like a fish.

  “Is that a yes?” he asked, unimpressed.

  “No!” she protested, even though her heart had sped up and pounded a steady rhythm against her ribs. A rhythm equal to the pulsing between her legs. What was it with this man that had her body leap into arousal whenever he was near? She couldn’t remember ever having been this turned on this easily by a man, not even by her last boyfriend, Fred.

  Unruffled, the man opened the passenger door and held it, glancing up at her invitingly.

  “Didn’t you hear me?” she snapped. “I said no!”

  “Oh, I did hear you all right,” he replied with a light inclination of his head. “But I doubt that you seriously prefer to spend your first evening on this beautiful island all by yourself, and besides, I know a fantastic restaurant by the sea that you won’t find in any of the tourist guides. I will take you back to your hotel now, you can freshen up, and we will be seated at our table by seven. What do you think?”

  She let out a long sigh and wiped her forehead. Most of her skin foundation had already come off from the sweat, so she didn’t have to worry about it leaving marks on her fingers. “Are you serious?”

  “Yes.”

  “What makes you think I’d go out for dinner with you?”

  “Precious, I’m the only person you know in this town, apart from maybe the other lawyers, but you’re standing out here on your own, so I don’t think any of them took their chances—or succeeded. Either way, you’re going to have to eat something. I know my way around here, so you might as well trust me to help you with it. And speaking of trust, I really work for your firm, so that should tell you I’m trustworthy.”

  “But…” Speech failed her. He was right. Of course he was. But that didn’t justify him bossing her around. And yet, a part of her liked his I’m-in-charge attitude. The part between her legs that was slick with more than just sweat by now, to be precise.

  Throwing her hands in the air, she surrendered. “Oh, whatever. I really need a shower. And fresh clothes.”

  “And some food in good company,” he finished.

  Copper glared at him. “Don’t get any ideas.” She managed to sound convincing, even though every fibre of her body yelled, “Do, please, please do!”

  “Why not?”

  “Huh?” The muscles in her pussy twitched and tightened as she took in his lazy, challenging stare and the rough tinge of his voice. He was serious, wasn’t he? And unbelievably upfront about it. Unbelievably…attractive. She wanted him. Badly. She wanted him so much that she felt about to dissolve in a puddle of bodily fluids, and her clit was throbbing in time with her overexcited heart.

  “Let’s get you to your room first.”

  The next minutes passed like a blur. Copper got on the passenger seat, careful not to let her skirt slide up this time because, really, having flashed her panties to him once was bad enough already.

  He drove her to a beautiful, little hotel that was settled on the side of a small hill, not far from the ocean. When she opened the door, she caught the first noise of waves rolling onto the shore.

  Her room was big, comfortable, and airy. There was a huge bed in it, which she pointedly ignored as she walked past it, followed by her driver. He’d insisted on carrying her suitcase up the stairs for her, although maybe that had just been an excuse to get into her room.

  So what if it was. She was tired, sticky from the heat outside, and her stomach felt queasy. She hadn’t eaten since breakfast, and that had been almost twelve hours ago.

  Maybe that would help flattening that stomach, she thought bitterly as she glanced at herself in the mirror. She wasn’t exactly fat, but there were curves on her that no amount of working out in the firm’s gym could help her get rid off. At least the chubby tummy and thighs came with a cleavage to match. It was one of her best assets, she knew that, although she wouldn’t have dreamed of using it to her advantage in the business world. Too many smart and capable women had fallen victim to that tactical move and had been stuck in a drawer labelled “big-boobed bimbo.”

  From the corners of her eyes she noticed that her companion had stepped outside on the balcony. She sighed. It seemed he was determined to linger around.

  She went to the doorstep and nearly stumbled over it in surprise. The view was spectacular. It stole her breath clean away and made her stare in silent awe.

  The sea stretched out in front of her like a multicoloured carpet, showing off shades of green and blue she hadn’t even known existed. Its seams were laced with white foam where the waves kissed the beach, and farther out, toward the horizon, tiny ripples caught the sunlight, deflecting it in every direction like the sparks shooting off a well-cut diamond.

  Copper swallowed and averted her gaze. She didn’t like to think of diamonds. It hurt to think of them, because diamonds reminded her of Fred. Fred and the engagement ring he had put on her finger. The engagement ring she had eventually pulled off and handed back when she’d realised that she wasn’t what Fred wanted, even though he had insisted she was. But Fred had wanted a family, a wife who stayed home with the kids and cooked him dinners, and while Copper loved her nieces and nephews, and thoroughly enjoyed cooking on the few occasions she found the time to prepare more than a microwaved dinner, it wasn’t what she saw in her future. She’d worked too hard to get where she was to become a housewife and mum.

  “What’s wrong?”

  Copper looked up. Or rather, her face was tilted up. Having apparently sensed her gloom, her driver had turned around from where he’d been leaning on the railing. He stood right in front of her, his index finger curled and tucked under her chin as he searched her eyes with that amazing, blue gaze of his.

  She noticed that his irises were not as purely blue as she’d thought at first. Dappled with tiny specks of brown and green, they reminded her of the sea and the beach below. They were dangerous eyes to see this close, or maybe he was a dangerous man to stand this close to. Whatever it was, her knees felt like rubber and her stomach gave a twinge that had nothing to do with hunger. At least not with hunger for food.

  “Nothing’s wrong,” she snapped an
d jerked her head away from his hand. “Other than the fact that, rather than sitting on a plane on my way home, I’m standing here in a hotel room with a man I don’t even know the name of!”

  “Emmett,” he said softly. “Emmett Davis. And technically, you’re standing on the balcony, not the—”

  “Oh, shut up, will you!” she grumbled as she stomped back inside which wasn’t all that easy on wobbly legs and four-inch heels. “And if you want to wait, you better make sure you stay out on that balcony and keep your back turned while I get ready.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” She didn’t need to see his face to know that he was smiling. Was it actually possible to hear a smile?

  Grabbing her suitcase, she turned it on its back on the floor, entered the combination for the lock, and snapped it open. She cast a scrutinising glance at its contents. She’d packed clothes for business, not a night out in town. So what. Leaving the top buttons on any of her business blouses undone went a long way to changing a chaste outfit into something seductive, and if she spiced it up by wrapping one of her scarves around her hips…Yes, that would work.

  Satisfied with her choice, she snatched up a dark-grey pencil skirt, an ivory-coloured, silk blouse, and the pink, orange, and purple scarf. The latter had been a gift from her sister, chosen without a doubt because it was such a wonderful match for the thick, silky hair that had given Copper her name.

  She was almost at the bathroom door when she realised that she’d forgotten to grab underwear. Not just forgotten to grab, she remembered and winced. She hadn’t packed any. The little stack of panties and bras she’d taken from her drawer had been sitting on the bed right next to the suitcase, then the phone had rung and she’d slammed the lid shut while discussing a case with Hastings, one of the senior partners.

  Copper’s heart rate sped up. No way could she wear the sweat-soaked underwear she’d arrived in, and even if she washed it out, there was no hope of it drying in a climate so humid. Maybe overnight, if she was lucky, but not in the time it took her to shower and apply makeup.

  Clenching her fists around the clothes she’d gathered, she went into the bathroom. It was big for a bathroom in a hotel, so at least her garments stood a chance at not getting soaked when she showered.

  Ah, a shower. The thought alone went a long way to cheering her up as she gingerly peeled off her damp clothes and stepped into the generously-sized cubicle.

  Careful not to stand under the showerhead, she turned on the water. A few stray drops of cool water sprayed her overheated skin, sending little jolts along her nerve endings. She waited until the temperature was bearable then stepped under the jet. It was blissful. The lukewarm water surrounded her, washing away the stickiness of hours spent on a plane, among people, in a courtroom and an overheated car.

  The car brought back memories. Blue eyes, tanned skin, masculine body. Emmett. The name had barely registered when he’d said it, but now it came floating back to her as she picked up the small bottle of complimentary shower gel and sniffed it.

  It was an exotic smell, part vanilla, part fruit, and the gel had a rich, creamy texture when she poured it into her hand. She glided it over her wet skin, working up a nice, velvety lather as she did so.

  Her fingers slid over her breasts, brushing her nipples along the way. Unsurprisingly, they were hard. Seeking for attention. She pinched one in passing, biting back a moan at the resulting twinge of pleasure in her clit. God, it had been so long.

  She tweaked the other nipple, almost keeling over when her body’s reaction was so intense it made her knees buckle. Unable to resist, she rubbed both sensitive nubs with the palms of her hands. Just a few moments of pleasure before she’d wash her hair, leave the shower, and get ready to meet Emmett.

  Emmett.

  Again, her memories zinged back to those moments in the airport, when he’d stood so close to her she’d thought she could feel his body heat. And again, on the balcony, just a few minutes ago. She had definitely felt the warmth from his body then, had felt the touch of his finger on her skin. What would it feel like to have his fingers on other parts of her skin? How would his big, strong hands feel if they were cupping her breasts and stroking her nipples? Would he fondle her breasts at all, the way she liked it, or was he more like Fred had been, always eager to go right for the goal and just fuck her?

  She yelped in a sudden outburst of delight. Her fingers seemed to have found her clit of their own accord, and the little bud was swollen and excited, even more so than her nipples had been. It had been so long. Too long. Her mind reeled when she tried to remember, or maybe it did because she just couldn’t seem to stop rubbing herself.

  She dipped a finger between her lips, gathering some of the juice that had collected there, and smeared it over her lust button. It felt so amazingly good. How could she have forgotten how good it was, and how could she have gone so long without it? She increased the pressure, rubbing, circling, and lightly tapping her clit until she thought she could feel it throb under the assault of her finger. Pinching it a few times, she turned the little bundle of nerves into an over-sensitised hotspot, right before pressing down on it again with the pad of her finger. Her body jerked into orgasm instantly. It was powerful, and she had to clutch the wall so as not to double over from the intense contractions that seemed to consume her entire belly and groin and made her pussy twitch and clench. Right then, she would have loved to have it filled. Filled with a big, steel rod of a cock that massaged her right into a second orgasm.

  But she was alone, sadly, and her finger just wasn’t the same as a man’s dick.

  Still twitching in the aftermath of her climax, she withdrew her hand and raised it, under the water and up to her hair.

  The thick, auburn strands were thoroughly wet already, so she reached for the shampoo and quickly washed her hair while her heart rate slowed down to normal.

  When she left the shower cubicle minutes later, she was still tingling all over. The quick rub-off should have relaxed her a little, but instead it had only left her sizzling all over and craving for more.

  She wiped the moisture from the mirror and glared at her reflection.

  “Since when have you been so hungry for cock?” she asked it, watching a blush rise in her cheeks.

  She made a face and reached for her makeup bag. The heat prohibited the use of foundation. It would all have come off within minutes. Fortunately she had good skin, even though she would have preferred to cover up the freckles on her nose. Instead, she focused on applying a thin layer of rose-tinted eye shadow, followed by a generous coating of black mascara on her lashes to emphasise her big, green cat eyes. It was all the decoration her pale complexion could handle or she would end up looking like a pop-art painting.

  There was no hair dryer in sight, and she hadn’t brought one either, so her only option was to twist her long, now-curly mane into a bun and secure it with the clip she always carried with her for emergencies. She untucked a few strands, delighted when they fell in place around her face just as they were supposed to. There was nothing like a perfect haircut, she thought, then turned to her clothes. She could almost feel the contented smile slide off her face. No underwear. Pencil skirt and a cream-coloured, silk blouse. What had she been thinking?

  Bad enough that the nonexistent panty line would lead people to suspect that she didn’t wear anything underneath, but the thin fabric of her blouse would confirm that fact all too soon.

  Groaning, she picked up the skirt. There was nothing to be done about that, so she stepped into it. Next was the blouse. She scowled at it. Her nipples were a pale pink, but there was no way they would not show. And since she was still buzzing all over with arousal, they were still hard. She’d be a walking peep show if she left the room like that. Unless…Her gaze fell on the brightly coloured scarf, and an idea formed in her mind. Yes, that would work.

  Chapter 3

  When the gorgeous redhead finally emerged from the bathroom, Emmett nearly fainted in surprise. The woman who had
left him standing on the balcony with snarky words and a clatter of high heels had been a mess. Beautiful, but a mess.

  The woman who walked up to him now was also beautiful—in a way that made him swallow nervously as his cock twitched and started to fill. She was breathtaking in every way. Perfectly curved hips narrowed into shapely legs, and all of that was hugged by a skirt so tight he wondered how she could walk in it. But what really brought him close to drooling was the part above her waist. She’d twisted a brightly coloured cloth of some kind around her torso, hiding her full breasts while taunting him with the patches of pale, creamy skin that peeked out between the folds of her makeshift top. She’d also done her hair up, revealing a tender neck that he longed to kiss. The styling emphasised her pretty face. Her cheeks were pink, probably from the shower, and it looked good on her. It set off her wide, green eyes and the cinnamon sprinkling of freckles on her nose.

  He was hard as a rock by now and had to clench his hands into fists and stuff them into his pockets so as not to simply grab her and kiss her. Those plump, curved lips were an invitation he could barely resist. When she stopped in front of him and a waft of her scent drifted to him, he nearly lost it.

  “Ready to go?” she asked with a husky tinge in her voice that made yet more blood rush to his groin. She sounded like sex, and she looked it, too.

  “Yes.”

  The bistro was located right at the beach, just a few yards away from the blue sea that licked at the powdery sand in an endless series of gentle, white-headed waves. Emmett loved the place and was glad that she had given in and let him take her there rather than to one of the posh, star-riddled restaurants downtown. This was much nicer and far more intimate. He hoped she’d like it, although she didn’t seem to be the romantic type. Or perhaps her romantic side just needs some reawakening, he thought.

  At his insistence, they picked a table right at the waterfront.