A Taste of Sin Read Online Free

flirtatious woman closer.
    “Flattery will get you absolutely anywhere,” Nuria leaned in with a purr. Her breath was awash in a cocktail of peaches, vodka, and oranges. Dez wrinkled her nose and turned her head to kiss Nuria on the cheek just as Phil and Sage tumbled back from the dance floor, laughing and holding each other tightly.
    “Are you all going to stand around feeling each other up?” Phil asked. “As far as I know, it’s not that kind of party.”
    “You never know, baby. The night is young.” Dez chuckled and squeezed Nuria’s waist.
    “Are you taken for the night, honey?”
    They all turned around.
    “Damn . . .” Sage whistled, not quite under her breath.
    Phil glanced at the woman, an eyebrow arched in mute appreciation.
    But the object of their collective lust only had eyes for Dez. She was eye-catching in a peach-colored dress that covered her walnut skin from throat to ankle. It was a late nineteenth-century gown with pearl buttons at the wrist and throat, one that barely hinted at her curves, focusing instead on the elegant lines of the body beneath it. As the woman stepped closer, Dez caught the scent of champagne on her lips. Her arm slid from Nuria’s waist.
    “I could be,” Dez murmured, immediately intrigued by the woman’s boldness. The topic of the previous discussion fell away from her brain.
    The woman’s smile was sweet and teasing. It warmed her pretty, doll-like face even more, stretching the small rosebud lips into a wet promise. “I’m Lylah.”
    Dez’s body was paying attention. She wanted to slide her hand in Lylah’s headful of curls and pull her closer, feel those lips under hers to see if they were as soft as they looked.
    “Dez. Very pleased to meet you.” She heard her friends’ laughter, the vague noises of their conversation as they moved away and deliberately lost themselves in the crowd. “So what do you have in mind?”
    “I have the key to a room upstairs. Interested?”
    Oh, yes. This was just the thing she needed to get her body distracted from its memories of Ruben. Dez allowed her to lead the way, content to hang behind Lylah and watch the sway of her graceful shape under the dress as she slid through the crowd, then up the stairs and into a large bedroom.
    “I haven’t seen you around here before,” Lylah said, locking the door behind them. “Are you new to the scene?”
    “Something like that.” Dez shrugged off her jacket and dropped it on a chair near the door. The room reminded her of a suite at the Hyatt—simple, nondescript, yet functional with its wide bed and bathroom just beyond. There was a TV and a DVD player too. For extended hours of fun , Dez thought with a wry smile. She reached for Lylah. “So how do I get you out of this thing?”
    “You let me worry about that.”
    Their lips met with a firm, wet sound. No preliminaries. Lylah knew exactly what she wanted. Dez’s hands slid into the tempting curls and stroked their softness that reminded her of rougher curls down below that would also feel good on her fingers. The woman moaned deep in her throat and reached for the button at Dez’s slacks.
    Dez had done this countless times before, gone with the instinct of her body and shared it with anyone that it felt the inclination to. Unthinkably, she’d been faithful to Ruben. Two years without the smell of another woman’s cunt on her hands. Two years without the quick, anonymous sex that she and Rémi had perfected in tandem all over Miami and a good part of the world. She’d missed it.
    There was a rhythm to this sort of thing that she fell into now, the not thinking, the indulgence in pure sensation that made nothing else matter. Only the blind rush of her own body to possess and share pleasure. The rush that made the woman incidental, accidental. Did it matter that her name was Lylah or Diane or Keisha or Vivian? Or that she crocheted when she was bored or read aloud to herself or had a husband waiting for her in the Keys?