Scandalous Mistress. Leslie Kelly

which to him sounded like an alien torture tool.

      Then his wide-eyed stare fell on the thick, long, extremely graphic-looking device that wasn’t quite as big as what he had in his pants but was pretty damned generous nonetheless. It was not plastic-wrapped. Nor was the one beside it—little dong’s giant brother. The thing was big enough to hold a lamp shade.

      Holy shit.

      He couldn’t move. Literally, could not lift a hand, or take a step or do anything except stare. Most of the sex aids were still in their packaging, but he couldn’t stop himself from wondering if she’d ever opened, used and then repackaged any of them. Or if, God help him, she’d used the ones that weren’t still packaged, like the huge dildo.

      He didn’t imagine any woman could take that massive conversation piece into herself...but the other one... Had she plunged it into her body? If he bent down and picked it up, would he be able to tell? Did it still hold a faint whiff of musky woman? And Christ, why did he so desperately want to do things to her with it?

      Wild, erotic images flooded his brain, saturating his imagination. More than just fucking her with that long ridge of rubber, he could close his eyes and picture Lindsey giving herself pleasure, just like the woman on the book. It took no effort at all to imagine her clipping that tiny, purple device onto her finger and sliding it between her thighs, letting the vibrating tip brush against her clit until her hips thrust in sheer need. Her other hand would be on her breast, stroking, squeezing, gently plucking at a perfect nipple as the intensity increased. When she came, she’d be dying for something thick and hard to fill her, and no rubber toy could possibly give her the heat she craved.

      But he could. Oh, hell, yes, he could.

      In fact, he could practically do it right now. Those mental images were causing stabbing sensations in his groin, and he thought he might burst his zipper.

      God help me.

      He shook his head, chasing all those pictures out of his mind. He knew they would creep back in later, when he was alone in his small house. It had, after all, been a while since he’d had sex. The last time had been with his upward-climbing ex, before he’d moved here. But, blue balls or not, he sure didn’t want to come across as some horny asshole taking advantage of an admittedly unusual situation.

      “Sorry, I seem to have dropped your lifetime supply of vibrators,” he finally said, wondering how on earth he could sound so calm when he was certain he hadn’t breathed for the past several seconds.

      She groaned. “I can explain.”

      “Not necessary. You obviously own stock in a sex toy company?”

      She dropped her face into her hands, shaking her head. “Please be gone before I open my eyes again,” she said, sounding beyond embarrassed, verging on humiliated.

      He cursed himself for being so flippant. She had to be mortified. He sure would have been if a stranger had gotten a look at his most intimate reading material and personal items. Not that he usually read what was between the pages of his subscription mags, the ones delivered in a discreet, brown wrapper. Plus, of course, he also didn’t subscribe to a pocket-pussy-of-the-month club, so there wouldn’t be anything equivalent to shock the average passerby

      When he combined the book with the toys, it was obvious this woman took that whole giving-yourself-pleasure thing to heart. Which just made him wonder what it might be like to take that chore from her pretty, soft hands.

      Swallowing hard, he said, “Look, don’t be embarrassed. It’s no big deal.” Trying to pretend he hadn’t been imagining her putting something thick and hard between her thighs, he scrambled for another explanation. “It’s, uh, not as if I believe you’re opening an X-rated shop on the island.” Frowning, he added, “You’re not, are you?”

      “Of course not. I don’t imagine there would be much call for that around here.”

      “You might be surprised,” he said, thinking of a few people who seriously needed to have something shoved up their ass. One of them was Ollie, his own officer, a subordinate who hadn’t yet learned the meaning of that word—subordinate. The guy was a buffoon, a good ole’ boy who never would have made it on the force in any mainland city. Apparently, he’d made it on this one only by virtue of being the former chief’s nephew.

      “Besides,” she said with a definite eye roll, “that wasn’t what I imagined you were thinking.”

      No. She probably imagined he was thinking about how she used all these wickedly sexual items on her own stunning, curvy body. Which, of course, he had been.

      He met her stare, silently admitting it. She held that stare, from sheer bravado or because she, too, had suddenly started envisioning all-too-sexy ideas about the interesting things two people could get up to with all those appliances.

      He’d had a few relationships and more than his share of brief flings. But he honestly couldn’t remember if he’d ever progressed to this level of intimacy before. Frankly, he’d never understood why any guy would want to when he had his own hands, mouth and cock to work with.

      Just glancing at the colorful items strewn across the floor, however, and picturing running the tip of a slender vibrator over all the most sensitive parts of her body, was enough to open up his mind. He totally got off on oral sex—but how much better might it be if he filled her with a sexy, vibrating toy while he pleasured her with his tongue? Even that alien-probing toy suddenly sounded a little more interesting. He could see how a woman might be interested in double penetration without having to go to bed with two men.

      Da-yum.

      Forget it. Not double, not even single.

      They weren’t just two people who could get up to sexy games; they were strangers. Two strangers who couldn’t get involved, no matter what.

      Because if they so much as touched one of those kinky things at the same time, he feared the news would smash into the island’s grapevine so fast everybody would be drinking Merlot by nightfall.

      “Then again, I do like wine,” he mumbled under his breath. Hell, Chianti might as well have been in his bottle as a baby, it was such a part of Santori tradition.

      Her brow shot up. “What?”

      “Talking to myself. I’m a little out of my element with this one.”

      “That makes two of us.” She shook her head, nibbled her lip, then leaned down to begin picking up the strewn items.

      Knowing better than to pick up any of the naughtier things for her, he went for the giving-yourself-pleasure book. Unable to resist, he turned it over and read the description on the back. It hinted that the pages contained all kinds of secrets and tips on how a woman could achieve ultimate satisfaction, sans man.

      “You don’t really need this, do you?” he found himself asking, not sure where the question had come from, or why he’d voiced it. His common sense, and tact, seemed to have departed when it came to Lindsey Smith, some inner bad boy making him up the stakes, just a little.

      She’d been grabbing sex toys and shoving them into the box, but stopped midway to stare at him before replying to his question. He tried not to look at the Jolly Green Giant–size dong she was holding and instead focused only on her face.

      “What do you mean?”

      He could blow it off, retreat to safe conversational territory—if there was such a thing, considering she was holding a two-foot-long cock and he a manual on masturbation. But something made him persist. “You’re beautiful. You’re sexy as hell. Why would you need to...”

      “Have sex by myself?”

      “Something along those lines.”

      Her lashes fluttered; she glanced away, twisting the phallus in her hands as if she didn’t even realize she was holding it. He flinched, unable to help it, because, while the idea of having those slim fingers wrapped around his own dick was exciting as hell, he didn’t think