Read Online Act of Exposure by Cathryn Cooper - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Cathryn Cooper
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was a seeker of truth, and the more sleazy it was, the
wider its appeal. Yes, he decided, she was definitely the woman he
needed.
Already in his
mind, his hands were sweeping over her firm breasts, her flat
belly. Tingles of pleasure swept over him as he imagined her hands
on his chest, her blue eyes gazing up into his, lost in
adoration.
Oh yes, he
could imagine, all right. What a day that would be when he got her
to himself, when she lay beneath him, the scent of her sex wafting
up into his nostrils as his tongue licked her pussy, and his penis
pumped in and out of her generous mouth.
Seeing her
kissing another man made him feel jealous. Suddenly, Stephen
Sigmund, the man he had been ordered to expose, had done him an
awful wrong and he wanted revenge. As yet, he had no file on him,
no smutty statements from call girls or rent boys to mould into an
article. But that, he reckoned, he could easily rectify, and
rectify it was something he desperately wanted to do.
For the first
time in his life, Lance Vector wanted a woman, and the woman he
wanted was Abigail Corrigan.
Chapter
5
Abigail and
Stephen left the celebration separately. It wasn't something they
agreed to do in words. Neither did they exclaim that they wanted
each other, but also wished to preserve their public image. They
just knew by the sparkle in each other's eyes, the parted lips, the
subtle movements that only they perceived and only they could
interpret. Then, once they were certain that they were not being
seen or overheard, they agreed to meet up later that evening.
Stephen
suggested an old inn just off the main A4 - probably, thought
Abigail, the same place he'd taken Valeria.
Without him
having to spell it out to her, she knew what she was going for,
knew what he wanted from her. That didn't mean she had to go. It
didn't mean she had to submit herself to whatever he wanted her to
do. But in some strange, intriguing way, he had snared her. By some
invisible thread, he was pulling her along the dark road, drawing
her closer to him.
A coldness
trickled down her spine as she thought of his hands on her body,
his solid, male weight pummelling her against the bonnet of his
car, just as he had Valeria. The coldness spread from her spine.
Like water turning to ice, it seeped over her body and made her
flesh tingle. And yet, between her legs, there was only the heat of
desire.
Like a piece
of driftwood being tossed by the sea, she was going with the flow,
but in doing so, was breaking her own rules. Her personal life was
gradually merging with her daytime career. Until now she had
enjoyed complete control over both her professional life and her
private one. Everything had been clear, everything had been neatly,
perhaps even coldly, divided between the two compartments of her
life. Stephen Sigmund had changed all that.
Lascivious
thoughts had given rise to lascivious dreams in the two weeks since
she had danced at the Red Devil. Two weeks, just two weeks, since
she had left that place with a man wearing a blonde wig and
high-heeled shoes. Two weeks since she had allowed herself to be
bound to a rough bed in the Railway Hotel. And now she was with him
again, but this time in an old inn, which was surrounded by the
Savernake Forest.
Except for the
flickering of a large log fire, and the odd coach light hanging a
little lopsidedly from a dark oak beam, the inn was dimly lit, a
fact that suited them both very well.
There were few
people in the bar. Some huddled protectively over their drinks, or
whispered attentively to women who were clearly not their
wives.
Stephen kissed
her cheek. He smelt expensive, and felt warm. His hand covered
hers. Like his body, she thought. Just like his body will cover
me.
'How did you
recognize me? Was it just the wig, just the contact lens?'
In a sweetly
affectionate manner, Stephen flicked his fingers at a few strands
of hair that had escaped the velvet bow holding it back from her
face.
'Your hair was
coal
wider its appeal. Yes, he decided, she was definitely the woman he
needed.
Already in his
mind, his hands were sweeping over her firm breasts, her flat
belly. Tingles of pleasure swept over him as he imagined her hands
on his chest, her blue eyes gazing up into his, lost in
adoration.
Oh yes, he
could imagine, all right. What a day that would be when he got her
to himself, when she lay beneath him, the scent of her sex wafting
up into his nostrils as his tongue licked her pussy, and his penis
pumped in and out of her generous mouth.
Seeing her
kissing another man made him feel jealous. Suddenly, Stephen
Sigmund, the man he had been ordered to expose, had done him an
awful wrong and he wanted revenge. As yet, he had no file on him,
no smutty statements from call girls or rent boys to mould into an
article. But that, he reckoned, he could easily rectify, and
rectify it was something he desperately wanted to do.
For the first
time in his life, Lance Vector wanted a woman, and the woman he
wanted was Abigail Corrigan.
Chapter
5
Abigail and
Stephen left the celebration separately. It wasn't something they
agreed to do in words. Neither did they exclaim that they wanted
each other, but also wished to preserve their public image. They
just knew by the sparkle in each other's eyes, the parted lips, the
subtle movements that only they perceived and only they could
interpret. Then, once they were certain that they were not being
seen or overheard, they agreed to meet up later that evening.
Stephen
suggested an old inn just off the main A4 - probably, thought
Abigail, the same place he'd taken Valeria.
Without him
having to spell it out to her, she knew what she was going for,
knew what he wanted from her. That didn't mean she had to go. It
didn't mean she had to submit herself to whatever he wanted her to
do. But in some strange, intriguing way, he had snared her. By some
invisible thread, he was pulling her along the dark road, drawing
her closer to him.
A coldness
trickled down her spine as she thought of his hands on her body,
his solid, male weight pummelling her against the bonnet of his
car, just as he had Valeria. The coldness spread from her spine.
Like water turning to ice, it seeped over her body and made her
flesh tingle. And yet, between her legs, there was only the heat of
desire.
Like a piece
of driftwood being tossed by the sea, she was going with the flow,
but in doing so, was breaking her own rules. Her personal life was
gradually merging with her daytime career. Until now she had
enjoyed complete control over both her professional life and her
private one. Everything had been clear, everything had been neatly,
perhaps even coldly, divided between the two compartments of her
life. Stephen Sigmund had changed all that.
Lascivious
thoughts had given rise to lascivious dreams in the two weeks since
she had danced at the Red Devil. Two weeks, just two weeks, since
she had left that place with a man wearing a blonde wig and
high-heeled shoes. Two weeks since she had allowed herself to be
bound to a rough bed in the Railway Hotel. And now she was with him
again, but this time in an old inn, which was surrounded by the
Savernake Forest.
Except for the
flickering of a large log fire, and the odd coach light hanging a
little lopsidedly from a dark oak beam, the inn was dimly lit, a
fact that suited them both very well.
There were few
people in the bar. Some huddled protectively over their drinks, or
whispered attentively to women who were clearly not their
wives.
Stephen kissed
her cheek. He smelt expensive, and felt warm. His hand covered
hers. Like his body, she thought. Just like his body will cover
me.
'How did you
recognize me? Was it just the wig, just the contact lens?'
In a sweetly
affectionate manner, Stephen flicked his fingers at a few strands
of hair that had escaped the velvet bow holding it back from her
face.
'Your hair was
coal
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