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Read Online Remy's Release [Submissive Sirens] (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour) by Charlotte Smith - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Charlotte Smith
Tags: Romance
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blowing it. She’d have to think about how to handle this, and until she decided what to do, she wasn’t letting any of them so much as touch her hand.
She tuned back into reality in time to hear Drake ask the security guard to give them a moment to tidy up, and the guard slipped back into the hall, closing the door behind him. Remy shook her head. For an international arms dealer, Contois hired useless people.
Joss signed to them that everything was taken care of, and he and Knox ghosted on silent feet to the window where they hopped out and were gone with the equipment and weapons.
* * * *
Drake silently helped Remy adjust her dress and her hair. He raised an eyebrow but didn’t say anything as she slapped his hands away and glared at him before grabbing her wrap and clutch. She stormed out the door ahead of him, and Drake knew the party was over.
He did a careful sweep of the room, making sure there was no evidence of their presence. He went into the hall where the guard still waited and saw the guard was smirking. He wanted to beat the look off the man’s face, but he settled for leaning against the wall and sighing disconsolately.
“Your wife, she eez angry once more?” the guard asked.
“Well, your timing kind of ruined our afterglow,” Drake admonished.
“I am sorry,” said the guard, who didn’t look sorry at all. He turned his palms up and shrugged. “I hear screaming, I sink someone eez getting ’urt, I investigate. But sank you for zee show anyway!”
Drake knew he had to finish the performance without attracting suspicion, so he played along. “Oh well, we can always become friends again later. I better go find my wife, if she hasn’t stranded me here. Thanks again!” He waved and walked off, making for the main doors of the château. He had a funny feeling in the pit of his stomach that, even though the job was over, something even bigger was about to begin.
Chapter 8
Remy blew out a huge breath as she followed Drake through the door to the hotel suite. She was dying for a shower, dying to wash the sticky, now-dry evidence of her inability to control herself off the insides of her thighs.
The drive back had been silent. She and Drake had stared out their opposite windows, not exchanging a single word as he helped her in and out of the car. Oh well, as far as Remy was concerned it only helped to cement their story. Mrs. Joyce had been too miffed with her exhibitionist husband to speak with him and had stormed out of the château in grand style. And all the while, the creamy evidence of her climaxes was mingling with Drake’s seed, slickening every step she took. She’d been horrified to find herself becoming aroused again, just from the liquid kiss of her thighs as they rubbed together. She’d kept them clenched tightly on the drive back to the hotel in case Drake could smell her arousal, and she’d sat with her arms crossed across her chest to prevent him from noticing her nipples were hard. Again.
As Remy sagged against the door, her senses prickled, and she lifted her head to look around the room. Drake stood leaning against a console table across from her, having poured himself a finger of scotch. He was looking at her. No, she corrected herself, looking was the wrong word for what he was doing. Drake wasn’t looking at her idly. Rather, his gaze was predatory as it swept from her feet up to her face, pausing in its slow perusal to ravish her with his eyes. Those beautiful blue eyes had remained glued to her hips and breasts and had leisurely made their way up her neck to the bow of her mouth, caressing her with all the heat of a lover’s touch. When his eyes finally met hers, she found herself breathless, looking back at him from a face she was sure was just as flushed as if he had kissed her. Her lips had parted, and she was breathing raggedly. Drake’s gaze sharpened as her tongue darted out to moisten her lips gone dry from her sudden nervousness. She thought
She tuned back into reality in time to hear Drake ask the security guard to give them a moment to tidy up, and the guard slipped back into the hall, closing the door behind him. Remy shook her head. For an international arms dealer, Contois hired useless people.
Joss signed to them that everything was taken care of, and he and Knox ghosted on silent feet to the window where they hopped out and were gone with the equipment and weapons.
* * * *
Drake silently helped Remy adjust her dress and her hair. He raised an eyebrow but didn’t say anything as she slapped his hands away and glared at him before grabbing her wrap and clutch. She stormed out the door ahead of him, and Drake knew the party was over.
He did a careful sweep of the room, making sure there was no evidence of their presence. He went into the hall where the guard still waited and saw the guard was smirking. He wanted to beat the look off the man’s face, but he settled for leaning against the wall and sighing disconsolately.
“Your wife, she eez angry once more?” the guard asked.
“Well, your timing kind of ruined our afterglow,” Drake admonished.
“I am sorry,” said the guard, who didn’t look sorry at all. He turned his palms up and shrugged. “I hear screaming, I sink someone eez getting ’urt, I investigate. But sank you for zee show anyway!”
Drake knew he had to finish the performance without attracting suspicion, so he played along. “Oh well, we can always become friends again later. I better go find my wife, if she hasn’t stranded me here. Thanks again!” He waved and walked off, making for the main doors of the château. He had a funny feeling in the pit of his stomach that, even though the job was over, something even bigger was about to begin.
Chapter 8
Remy blew out a huge breath as she followed Drake through the door to the hotel suite. She was dying for a shower, dying to wash the sticky, now-dry evidence of her inability to control herself off the insides of her thighs.
The drive back had been silent. She and Drake had stared out their opposite windows, not exchanging a single word as he helped her in and out of the car. Oh well, as far as Remy was concerned it only helped to cement their story. Mrs. Joyce had been too miffed with her exhibitionist husband to speak with him and had stormed out of the château in grand style. And all the while, the creamy evidence of her climaxes was mingling with Drake’s seed, slickening every step she took. She’d been horrified to find herself becoming aroused again, just from the liquid kiss of her thighs as they rubbed together. She’d kept them clenched tightly on the drive back to the hotel in case Drake could smell her arousal, and she’d sat with her arms crossed across her chest to prevent him from noticing her nipples were hard. Again.
As Remy sagged against the door, her senses prickled, and she lifted her head to look around the room. Drake stood leaning against a console table across from her, having poured himself a finger of scotch. He was looking at her. No, she corrected herself, looking was the wrong word for what he was doing. Drake wasn’t looking at her idly. Rather, his gaze was predatory as it swept from her feet up to her face, pausing in its slow perusal to ravish her with his eyes. Those beautiful blue eyes had remained glued to her hips and breasts and had leisurely made their way up her neck to the bow of her mouth, caressing her with all the heat of a lover’s touch. When his eyes finally met hers, she found herself breathless, looking back at him from a face she was sure was just as flushed as if he had kissed her. Her lips had parted, and she was breathing raggedly. Drake’s gaze sharpened as her tongue darted out to moisten her lips gone dry from her sudden nervousness. She thought
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