Silk Stalkings by Kelli Scott Page B

temptress.
    A tiny gasp escaped her lips. Lips. She had great
lips. His mouth covered hers for a deep, slow kiss. The kiss didn’t end until
the song did—a testament to his dedication to leaving no tooth in her mouth
untouched by his tongue. Her fingers remained clutched behind his neck as his
hands roamed her body with tender caresses.
    He held her and swayed long after the song had ended and
another, much faster song had begun to play.
    “We should go before my battery dies and I need to call Chip
for a jump start,” he said. Being stranded would be memorable but not romantic.
    She simply nodded, seemingly dazed by his kiss or the dance
or the image of Chip giving them a jump. Yancey was not an easy woman to figure
out.

Chapter Six
     
    Yancey stared at her computer screen over lunch in the
employee break room. If her coworkers caught a glimpse of her naughty list
they’d…what? What would they do? What could they do? Nothing. Judge her? She’d
been judged plenty. In college she’d been stereotyped as your typical good girl
next door with a better than average IQ and below-par carnal experience.
    Dressed in her short skirts, high heels and sexy stockings,
she not only sensed the judgment of the gawking conservatives but also felt the
eyes of men, young and old, caressing her and feeling her up. Sometimes a
pleasant experience, but not always.
    Her boss probably suspected that he’d been duped when she’d
gradually changed her appearance from business casual to call-girl casual. It
had started with ditching her eyeglasses for a pair of contact lenses. Her
dresses and skirts had got shorter, her heels had got higher. It served the
newspaper right for not implementing a written dress code. They probably had
someone working day and night to rectify that mistake. But Yancey wore the appropriate
undergarments and covered those undergarments with clothes. She stayed on the
right side of proper, if just barely.
    Back to her list, Yancey quickly added showing up naked at
Diego’s apartment to her spreadsheet. Along with a little light bondage—very
light. So light it had been nearly nonexistent. She’d count it anyway. She sort
of wanted more bondage—from him and only him. Yancey sighed, reflecting on the
night before. He’d eaten her pussy. That was nothing new. A couple of other
guys in her romantic past had done the same with different results. More like
no result. But the way Diego had tongued her and fingered her and brought her
face-to-face with an orgasm to end all orgasms—that had been new for her. A
zing of sizzling desire coursed through her at the memory, so fresh in her
mind.
    Diego had bent her like a pretzel into a variety of
positions the previous night after their picnic. Not that she knew the names of
the positions to list them. Yancey absently added an impromptu picnic in the
park to her spreadsheet. Strolling in the dark. Swinging under the stars. And
dancing in the moonlight. Activities so out of character for her studious and
serious former self.
    Such silliness for a grown woman, she thought.
    Yancey wondered if such frivolous behavior would lower her
IQ. If so, good thing she’d already earned her college degree. No one could
take it away no matter how far she fell from grace or from academia.
    She’d insisted on going home after the impromptu dance the
night before, but he’d insisted that she agreed to dinner and breakfast.
She didn’t make him persist very hard or for very long. No place she’d rather
be than in his bed, Yancey decided. He’d made her tremble again that night and
once more very early in the morning before a hearty breakfast. And again in the
shower. The memory caused a shiver of need now.
    She squeezed her thighs together to end the aching, but it
persisted.
    Yancey powered off the computer and sighed. Diego was dreamy
with a capital D . Not boyfriend material, though. His tattoos told a
story of a troubled past. Men being men, she speculated he would also