Read Online Melted and Whipped by Cleo Pietsche - Free Book Online Page A

house has such good energy. Yes, the house has energy. It’s happy. That’s probably because it’s spotless and well laid out and lovingly decorated, and because I had an amazing night and a million orgasms. Not so mysterious, after all.
    I laugh at myself.
    “I can’t say I’ve had that reaction from looking out the window,” a deep voice says.
    Reflexively, I spin, my fingers clutching the bathrobe at the chest. “Thank you for the heart attack,” I say.
    “First one is free,” he says, coming to lean on the far end of the windowsill. He’s wearing boxers and nothing else, and his body is so damned perfect. “You like the view?”
    “Are you kidding? I’m burning with jealousy,” I confess.
    “You’d be surprised at how many of these mansions are empty for large chunks of the year,” he says, staring out over the trees. “When people have seven or eight beautiful homes, it’s hard to spend more than a few weeks in each one.”
    “That’s a shame,” I murmur. “At least yours won’t have that problem.”
    “No, but my Manhattan penthouse is currently empty. It’s… I have to say it’s one of the most beautiful homes I’ve ever been in. I bought it from a friend who was getting divorced and wanted to be rid of it. It’s got a view over Central Park.”
    “I prefer the view here,” I say.
    “So do I,” Porter says, a bit like it’s a secret. “Especially now.”
    “Because of the sunrise,” I say. The barest streaks of orange and pink are appearing.
    “Yes, but that’s not why.”
    My gaze slides to him, and I discover he’s staring at me. There’s naked lust in his eyes, a heat so tremendous that I wonder why the world around us doesn’t burst into flames.
    “To be clear,” he states as he moves closer, “if you were in New York, I’d prefer that view, too.”
    I snort a little, and I’m glad he can’t possibly see my blush.
    “No one would disagree with me. You’re stunning, Emily. Do you really not know that?”
    Now I really think he’s full of it, and I want to tell him not to waste his breath giving me compliments. But before I can, he brushes his lips across mine.
    With a little moan, I part my lips, allowing him access even though part of me is tempted to resist so I can experience the pleasure of having him demand that I yield.
    Yes, I want him to dominate me again. Because the events of last night are already receding in my memory. I can remember the sensation of his hand smacking my ass, but I want to feel the sharp pain again.
    I crave it.
    Porter makes a low, male growl of approval. It reverberates against my skin, and not only do my nipples tighten, not only does my pussy get wet, but it clenches so hard that I gasp.
    Only then do I realize I’m close to an orgasm. Just from a kiss.
    When Porter slides a hand into the robe to fondle my breast, I do orgasm, right there, gasping with pleasure and surprise, my body spasming. It’s not nearly as intense as the ones he gave me a few hours ago, but it’s definitely an orgasm.
    “That was interesting,” Porter says as he pulls back from the kiss. “I knew you were sensitive, but I had no idea you were capable of that. You’re a lucky woman.”
    I burst out laughing and can’t stop. Everything in my body is mixed up. “That has never happened before.” I bury my face in my hands, embarrassed, surprised, happy.
    He draws a finger across my jaw, down my throat. “Now I should tell you to stop flattering me,” he says, echoing my words. There’s a difference, though. I was embarrassed by the attention, but Porter is joking.
    He knows he’s good. As I stare into his amused eyes, my own smile falters.
    I’m falling for him, but I don’t want to fall for him. We’re not kids anymore. A night of amazing sex doesn’t mean a relationship.
    “I need to use the bathroom,” I say, ducking out from under him. It’s still dark, and I lose my balance.
    Porter is there with a steadying hand on my elbow, his other