He’d just think he was in charge. And by the time he figured it out, she’d have fulfilled the terms of the bet, fucked his brains out, and be on her way. Door closed.
Heart protected.
She turned away from the window and regarded her traitorous friends with a sly grin. “You know. You’re absolutely right. It’s about damn time I throw Rand McKay down and fuck him. I’ll do it.”
“You mean, you’ll do him?” Callie asked. “After all these years, you’re finally going to screw Rand?
“Yes, I’ll do him. I’ll fuck Rand McKay.”
two
blair sat in her office and tapped her nails on her desk, staring out the window and pondering her epic blunder. How could she have set the terms of the bet in such a way that she was stuck having to seduce Rand McKay?
Not that there’d be much effort on her part in the seduction arena. He was primed and ready for her, and as he’d told her yesterday, all she had to do was go to him, and he’d take her on.
Arrogant prick.
It wasn’t in her nature to prostrate herself in front of a man. She was the ice queen, goddammit, an image she’d spent years perfecting: untouchable, untamable, wicked, and out of control. She had a reputation as a ball buster, a woman in charge. Every woman envied her. Every man feared her.
Every man except Rand, who’d never once bought her act.
Because that’s all it was. An act. And he damn well knew it.
Dickhead. How the hell he knew it was beyond her, but he did know. And that’s why she had steered clear of him all these years. Other men fell at her feet to worship her, to do anything she wanted them to. She only had to snap her fingers, and the world was her oyster. Men would stand on their heads if she asked them to.
She’d almost married a few of them. They really were nice guys. Nice, sweet, safe guys. She’d really tried to make it all the way to the altar with them. Until she came to her senses and realized how utterly bored she’d be. Because even though she only fucked men she could control, she knew she’d never be happy with a man like that.
Catch-22. Damned if she did and damned if she didn’t.
Who needed to get married, anyway? She could have her pick of any man in Silverwood. She’d been wined and dined and romanced by many of them, and though she left them all, she left them with smiles on their faces and fond memories of the best sex they’d ever had. And no regrets on their part.
So she got a little lonely now and then. Lots of women spent their lives alone. She was used to getting her own way, and she wasn’t about to change now. It was probably best she remained single and unattached. And completely in charge of her life.
Now she had to spend the weekend fucking a man she couldn’t direct. Her logical, controlling mind dreaded it. Her body zinged with anticipation.
Traitor.
How to do it, though? She couldn’t—wouldn’t—walk up to him and put her fate in his hands. Oh, no, he’d enjoy that way too much. She refused to hand her power to him on a silver platter.
It had to be something more subtle, which was going to be difficult, since subtle wasn’t exactly her typical method.
He knew her inside and out, so she’d have to surprise him.
Damsel in distress! That was it. Since Blair was the last woman on earth to ever play that card, he’d be surprised as hell when she played it on him. He’d be shell-shocked and scratching his head, trying to figure out her angle. By the time she wrestled him to the ground and had his pants off, it would be too late. He’d give in, and she’d have control over the situation. He’d be so damn happy to have his cock in her pussy, he wouldn’t care how it got there.
She’d win, he’d lose, and she’d fulfill the terms of the bet.
Admittedly, the thought of fucking Rand had her steamy hot and anticipating a wild ride. The men she’d been screwing for the past fifteen years hadn’t exactly lit all her fires. Barely enough to flicker a candle, actually. Any hot action came from her own hand or after giving a man detailed instructions and a road map to her pussy. And nine times out of ten, they still didn’t get it right.
She’d just bet Rand knew his way around a woman’s pussy. Blindfolded. With his hands tied behind his back.
Her nipples tightened at the remembered feel of his hands cupping her breasts, his thumbs sweeping over the taut buds with an expert touch that had her panting like a dog in heat.
She’d have to play this game very carefully. And in the game of sex, she was a master.
First thing to do was select her outfit. She turned off her computer and strolled out of her home office and into her bedroom, swinging open the door to her walk-in closet and flipping on the light.
Casting a critical eye on her femme fatale outfits, she chose one she knew would cause maximum distraction. Scandalously short, hip riding, thigh-length skirt that swirled around her legs when she walked. Belly-skimming, tight spandex top in white to show off her tan. Low-cut, with a scoop neck to accentuate her cleavage and just short enough to let her crystal belly ring peek out underneath the hem.
She took a long shower, dried her hair until the auburn tresses shone brightly and curled in soft waves around her shoulders, then dressed. She chose a pair of wedge-heeled sandals to show off her well-toned calves, then checked her appearance in the mirror.
If Rand McKay didn’t get a hard-on when he saw her, he wasn’t a man.
Devious plan worked out in her head, she grabbed her purse and headed out the door, calling Callie on her cell phone so her friends would know the game was on. Her intent was to wind up at Rand’s house tonight, so if Abby and Callie wanted to take a peek and make sure she was fulfilling her part of the bargain, they were welcome to come on over.
She had every intention of making sure they knew exactly where she was. She’d made the bet, they’d chosen her man, and she was damn well going to fuck him.
what a long freakin’ day. rand blew out a breath, anticipating a cold beer as soon as he walked through the door at home. What he hadn’t anticipated was the sight of sexy, tanned legs bent over the open hood of a white Mercedes right outside the entrance to his property. He pulled the Jeep to a stop behind Blair’s car and stepped out.
She didn’t even bother to raise her head from underneath the hood of her car, just tapped one sandaled foot and hummed. The slight breeze blew her flowery skirt just enough to give him a glimpse of sleek, slender thighs and the lower curve of one fine ass. He swallowed past the dry lump in his throat and tamped down the lump of flesh in his jeans quickly springing to life.
Sliding next to her, he looked under the hood. “Problem?”
“No, I’m working on my tan.”
She had a smart mouth. Such a pretty mouth, too. Full, pink, pouty lips he’d like to slide his dick between. Adjusting himself to accommodate his growing discomfort, he said, “Funny. So what’s the problem?”
With a slow turn of her head in his direction, she tilted her sunglasses partway down her nose, revealing crystal blue eyes. “If I knew what the problem was, would I be here?”
“Scoot.” He bumped her hip. “What’s it not doing?”
“Running, dumb ass.”
“Careful with those smart-ass replies. I’m not above tossing you over my knee right here, baring your ass, and spanking you.”