A Case of Mistaken Identity Read online

  Flynt sat up, remembering he still had on his jeans and tugged those off, then his briefs. Not about to let her change her mind, he deliberately pulled at her panties. She giggled. He paused, then realized why.

  "Yeah, don't bother,” he murmured, realizing their uniqueness and slowly drew them back up. “Leave them on” he whispered.

  They laughed, and Myrna was glad she had taken those “special” panties from Adrienne. Glad she had thrown all caution to the wind with the very act of putting them on that morning.

  They lay together. He kissed her belly, then brazenly moved downward and without warning started to lick between her thighs, laving her moist feminine place. Her cunt, she reminded herself.

  She couldn't help gasp at the delicious feel of his warm wet tongue on her. Still, the thought of what he was doing made her pull slightly away. He held her firm, his hands on either thigh.

  And she knew. There was no turning back. She was no longer safe not sorry Myrna, but now followed her impulse.

  They were lovers, she thought also. Strangers in the night, she mused.

  Clit ... clitoris ... somewhere the voice in her mind reminded—no euphemisms. Forget paperback romances, she reminded herself as he licked and stroked her pussy.

  She reveled in his boldness, allowing herself to relax. She was totally new at this, at times a little frightened by it, but never enough to stop him.

  She didn't want him to stop, needing to move further into that mysterious place where she would find more of the secret delights he promised.

  Gently he parted her cunt with his fingers, and she felt she was losing total control of her body. It no longer belonged to Myrna Dunbar or Adrienne Bennett.

  She belonged to Flynt Adams.

  She dug her fingers into the carpeting as her body convulsed into spasms of ecstatic pleasures. She understood it all now. Under ‘his’ complete control, the thought pushed her further into that dark place as she willingly relinquished more of that control.

  No longer strangers, they'd become intimate partners, discovering things about each other no other being could or might ever know.

  She cried out his name as her climax started, letting out moans she did not recognize as her own voice.

  This was no longer a game she knew as she arched her back, her body racked with sweet aching spasm after spasm, its release so intense. They had crossed the line.

  He moved on top of her, his legs spreading hers farther apart, and she felt the pressure of him against her. The point of no return, she closed her eyes, her wet pussy permitting him full access.

  She felt a throbbing start inside as he moved slowly inside her, then pulled out and entered her again. She lifted her legs and wrapped them s around his hips. She clung to him. He pounded her and she could feel spasms start somewhere deep inside. Her breath came in short gasps as they climaxed together.

  This had never happened before. Not with any other man.

  Moments later, satiated and even surprised that despite what just happened she wanted more.

  Naked, they viewed each other in the soft light. Instinctively, her body arched against him. Suddenly, he was pushing her down again into the carpet, giving her no time to refuse, no time to pull away as he covered her with his body.

  She dug her fingers into his shoulders just as she had seen Adrienne do days before. She pulled him down further against her, parting her legs, again needing to relieve that ache as he entered her. No words were expressed—two animals mating, as if to ensure procreation.

  "We're not finished,” he whispered. “We've got the whole night still."

  His words reminded her that she was no longer in control, but that he would dictate the course of that night.

  Hungrily he kissed her breasts, nipping at them, causing her to wince yet feel hot delicious sensations.

  Thoughts raced through her mind. What the hell was she doing having hot sex with this stranger?

  Is this what you really want? The voice inside seemed to come out of no where asking the unbidden question.

  She realized the voice was hers, Myrna Dunbar's voice fighting to get back through. Myrna Dunbar seeking sanity out of the moment. Myrna Dunbar who still possessed the necessary restraints, the necessary propriety—the necessary good judgment to not go on knowing that at the first light of dawn Myrna Dunbar would suffer all those regrets.

  Except Adrienne's voice became stronger.

  Adrienne had no qualms about engaging in sex with a stranger, especially an exceedingly handsome, virile stranger.

  Her body squirmed beneath him as his taut muscles straddled her. His fingers burned into her skin, making it tingle. Her body felt as if it had been set afire. Silently she screamed for that sweet ultimate release, for relief to alleviate the piercing ache that coursed through her, again demanding its release.

  Myrna's voice faded to oblivion. Adrienne's voice came through loud and clear.

  Bodies united, soaked by sweat, moving easily against each other. Scents of citrus and musk intermingled.

  She had long passed the point of no return.

  Damn the regrets.

  Myna Dunbar had no say in what was happening. Adrienne Bennett dictated the course the night would take.

  She felt herself swell inside as her feminine folds sheathed him ... her cunt grasping his cock.

  Her breath came in short rasps, hysteria rose somewhere deep inside, realizing she was about to climax again.

  "Yes ... yes ... yes.... “She cried the words repeating them somewhere in her brain.

  Raw hot passion radiated as the spasms intensified, curling somewhere deep, creating an urgency that made her feel like she would die.

  Her body convulsed.

  She clutched at him, again frantically holding on as her body met each thrust. His body shuddered and she felt his release coming inside.

  Caught in this primitive rhythm, helplessly trapped within its powers, their bodies rode the uncontrollable waves of passion.

  Myrna's only regret? She'd waited too long for this.

  * * * *

  Jonathan couldn't remember losing himself this completely to any woman, much less a stranger. He'd been willing to play his part, play it out to whatever role he found himself, play out the charade set forth by his nemesis Adrienne Bennett.

  Except he knew this was not Adrienne's moist body that lay next to his, or Adrienne's red hair, damp in parts flowing across his arm. Her breathing, more even now after creating certain contentment that could not easily be described.

  One soft, firm thigh lay recklessly across his now shriveled form. Yet, he knew given time it would rise again to the occasion.

  The night was still young. And as long as this woman was willing, so was he.

  He felt no awkwardness. He felt no embarrassment. He certainly was not going to feel regrets later. Suddenly, visions of that book on erotic submission flying off book store shelves came to mind. He'd studied it on the plane, envisioned performing the acts. Would she be willing? Experiment? Venture further into that dark night of the soul they both had now been introduced.

  Would he dare propose such a thing to this woman who seemed so much more like a virgin? He would gladly teach her how to commit some of those acts. Would she go along with it? Do his bidding? He thought of the Velcro restraints he'd brought along. Purposely for Adrienne, one way he would show her he was a man, and knew how to treat her type of woman.

  "Red, I think we were made for each other,” he suddenly whispered.

  Myrna looked up. Fully satiated, guessing what they had experienced might only be the beginning, she felt a strange wondrous melting sensation starting, and wondered if she had always had this seemingly insatiable need.

  Tonight she knew she had just touched the tip of the proverbial iceberg in terms of discovering parts of herself she would never have willingly acknowledged, would consciously deny. Yet just knowing that her fantasy of hot sex with a stranger had just been played out, she thought of her other fanta
sies, ones she felt might remain only inside her head.

  Suddenly she knew she was up for anything with this stranger.

  "I think we got something good here,” he added, his voice husky. “But first you need to trust me."

  A strange wondrous excitement coursed through her. His words sounded promising and dangerous.

  "Trust you?"

  "Yeah."

  "What are you trying to say?"

  "I think you and I can really get it on if you know what I mean. Experiment."

  "Experiment?” Fully catching the meaning and it left her breathless.

  Flynt Adams, Myrna suddenly knew, was not going to turn out boring or uninspiring. Was she ready for this? Ready to embark on an adventure that could lead her into questionable places, at times perilous, places that would have her both anticipative and perhaps fearful.

  "Because I think we could have some real fun together.” He continued slowly caressing her breasts, moving along the plane of her stomach and down between her thighs where his finger gently circled her clitoris. Bold and self-assured, she realized that this man, by these very gestures, was promising to take her to unimaginable heights. Places where he might have her begging for more. Again the word “experiment” raced through her mind.

  Lightly he touched her pussy, stroked it in gentle circles. Still gorged with blood, she ached from the exquisite sensitivity. His touch drove her crazy with wanting. Wanting him again.

  "Yeah, I love the way your pussy gets so wet when I touch you like this.” Trust me. I'm here for the next two weeks, and all I ask is, during that time trust me. Because the next time we make love, let's see how far we push it. And from what I can tell by what happened here that won't be a problem ... for us.” A wicked grin spread across his face and Myrna knew she would not rest until their next time together.

  CHAPTER SIX

  "What the...?” Myrna said.

  The throbbing, penetrating noise of a motorcycle engine outside her bedroom window shattered the early morning quiet. Smack in the middle of the driveway on black and silver chrome sat a tall man. Myrna guessed probably Art to see Adrienne. She watched him climb off the thing and head for the back porch. He wore the usual faded jeans, a black leather jacket, and black helmet, and carried a similar helmet. She thought the man looked down right sexy, dangerous, triggering inside her mind all sorts of warnings.

  This was never how she began a Saturday morning, which would have her gathering up dirty laundry, making a list for the upcoming week's groceries and cleaning up messes she hadn't had time to get to during the week.

  Myrna had no choice but to rush downstairs and greet him, and tell him that Adrienne was not at home, or else have every nosey neighbor on the block see this dark ominous stranger knocking at her door. She peered through the locked screen door.

  "How ya doing, Red? Want a have a little fun today?"

  Flynt Adams peered back at her through the mesh. Mutely, she stared at him, thinking that only a few hours of sleep had restored some of her common sense. She had the sudden urge to give up the charade, tell him who she was.

  Flynt's lazy appraisal of her in the bright light of day soon changed that. No man ever looked at her like that, as if she were some sex kitten and just as dangerous. Her gaze shied away from his and landed on the black chrome Harley crouched behind him like a malevolent beast. The earlier warnings rang louder, and she had a bad feeling that the moment of truth was at hand, making her wonder just how much longer she could pull off this deception?

  At what point would he see through her? Detect the fraud that she was in every sense of the word?

  "Well how about it, Red?” he asked again, tucking the second helmet beneath his arm. “What do you say you and I go hit the road and burn some rubber?"

  "On that thing?” The words spilled out before she could retrieve them, knowing it would not be how Adrienne would respond. She pulled the ties to her robe tightly around her waist, and hunched over slightly to peek out at the strange contraption invading her space, her peaceful existence. Even with Adrienne's friends coming and going on these things, strange as it was, she'd never gotten that close to one, preferring to keep them at a safe distance. Now here she was struggling to envision herself riding on the back of one—this one. But to no avail, sexy, dangerous or not, in no way could she picture herself straddled behind him on that thing.

  "Aw, c'mon, Red! Someone with your sense of adventure must've ridden on the back of one of these."

  She could feel her stomach twisting into knots and wanted to say no, but caught herself, remembering the new role she had cast for herself. A red-hot mama who'd try anything, anytime, anywhere, and none of it excluded riding the back of a big bad Harley. Keeping a reasonable enough composure, she responded, “Yeah, hey sure, Albuquerque, piece of cake. Just give me a chance to get dressed."

  She pointed him toward the kitchen where a fresh pot of coffee brewed, then rushed to her bedroom, stopping mid way down the hall and instead made a beeline for Adrienne's room. Adrienne would have the appropriate clothes for this kind of thing. Needing to stay in character, Myrna knew Adrienne wore leather, all sorts of leather: leather jackets, leather skirts, leather pants, leather vests, even on occasion a leather bra. The only leather Myrna wore was sensible her shoes. She did own jeans. Yet somehow wearing Adrienne's meant she could pull this off.

  Immediately she rummaged through her roommate's closet, pulling out pairs of them until she found one pair that fit well enough without threatening to split at the seams. All the while she sensed Adrienne's soul hovering close by, daring her on and encouraging her not give in to the panic attack she felt coming.

  Oh how easy to talk the talk she told herself as she pulled on the jeans along with a skimpy white Tee and short black leather jacket. But to actually go ahead and put these fantasies into action was quite something else. Essentially she was giving up who she was. Giving up her identity. Even her giving up her values, depending on what was expected of her as the days passed. Flynt Adams had asked her to trust him as they continued on this course of exploration.

  And trusting meant going where angels indeed fear to tread. Two weeks she was sure would not have her doing anything she couldn't handle, remembering the small foil packets that lay inside a drawer in the bathroom. ‘Means’ of protection Adrienne always kept on hand which Myrna had come upon during a cleaning frenzy. She'd stuffed them back into the drawer, and they stayed there until last night when Flynt used one.

  She shook her head. She'd made her decision. Trust him. Still. In the bright light of day, things looked different. She pictured the condoms, the pile growing smaller. Then thought of the next thirteen nights comprising the two weeks he was here. Trust him. The words reverberated in her mind.

  Two weeks of enjoying that man. A man she hardly knew. A man she had no idea what he was capable of. But it was the not knowing that intrigued her, that had her constantly feeling this heady anticipation. Yeah, he was definitely sexy. And now wondering about what that short future had in store, picturing him on that dark beast of a machine. She thought of some of Adrienne's books tucked into a bottom dresser drawer. Photos of pretty ladies, tied up, blindfolded, made into sex slaves. It left her a bit breathless and realized did she dare go that far? With him?

  Did she dare trust him enough to engage in those activities?

  Adrienne had been discreet about her love life, and had honored Myrna's wishes about ‘overnight’ guests. Although they never really compared notes, what Adrienne did on her own was her business, but Myrna would guess the note comparing on Adrienne's end would be far more interesting, provocative, and detailed. Myrna's notes would have a hard time filling up pieces of scrap paper with her romantic encounters. At least until this moment, she added, thinking of the red-blooded cowboy parked in her kitchen, drinking her coffee, breathing her air.

  She forced herself to take deep even breaths or else hyperventilate and pass out on the kitchen floor. Okay, what's the worst that could
happen, she asked, slipping on a pair of Adrienne's gold hoop earrings. That the motorcycle would sail off some cliff? She doubted it. He seemed pretty capable in handling that thing.

  Or that Flynt would find out she was a fraud?

  No contest.

  All she had to do was think of Flynt and know that she'd rather go off that cliff than see him ride into the sunset without her.

  Moments later Myrna found herself perched on the back of Flynt's Harley, roaring down the main thoroughfare, with her eyes shut, and her arms wrapped around his waist, squeezing a little bit tighter with each acceleration of speed.

  * * * *

  Jonathan grinned in his personal triumph beneath the helmet. The motorcycle lessons his gardener had given him back in Albuquerque had definitely paid off. He'd only ground the gears once coming up to Adrienne's place, and he'd taken that last corner as if the bike was on rails. Oddly enough, Adrienne's obvious disconcertment over getting on the back of his Harley diminished his own apprehensions. One thing about projecting a macho image, you had to live up to it. Definitely a “man” thing, he decided. All it took for testosterone levels to spike was a feminine look of abject fear. He had to admit it was a good feeling, having Adrienne put her trust in him.

  Yet it had been that look of horror followed by her gesture of confidence in him that reinforced his hunch that she was probably an imposter. The Adrienne Bennett he remembered feared nothing, and trusted no one but herself. Annoyed by the thought of Adrienne's deceit, he pushed the bike to the limit. If he could scare this woman enough, she might end this crazy farce with an all out confession. But at times he found himself slowing down as his conscience kicked in. Confronting her straight out would give him away, proving that he was no better than Adrienne. And what made this revenge stuff more difficult, he really liked this woman, whoever she was. She was intelligent, interesting, and pretty in a quiet way. After he left her, he'd spent the rest of the night thinking about her, and looked forward to spending time with her. He'd been tempted to tell her the truth. Tell her who he was. What could it hurt to show her that Jonathan Wetherall III wasn't the geek she thought him to be? Yet, he knew they were at a fragile moment in their relationship. A relationship he wasn't sure yet he wanted to pursue. He couldn't help but be intrigued by this woman. But he also couldn't help wonder what kind of relationship they could have if neither trusted the other? He could easily pull out now. Not bother. Not invest any more time than he needed to. He had better things to do, things that would not have him riding this silly contraption or playing these silly games.