BLOG TOUR ~ TOTAL TEMPTATION by Alice Gaines

SYNOPSIS:

Looking for the ultimate fulfillment? The experts of Alice Gaines' sexy new Club Ecstasy series are here to take your pleasure to the next level …

Cassandra Willis is ready to let loose, ready to finally explore the sort of wild, uninhibited pleasure she's always dreamed of—but only if promised complete discretion. Club Ecstasy offers luxury and secrecy … and the lover of her dreams.

But as she explores her every desire and discovers a naughty side she never knew existed, Cassandra has to decide how complete her transformation will be. Will this sizzling encounter with the one man capable of meeting her every need be a mere diversion? Or will Cassandra's temptation lead to a new beginning … and a second chance at knowing herself?

Ready to achieve complete satisfaction? Visit Alice Gaines' sexy new Club Ecstasy series and discover a true dedication to pleasure …

PURCHASE LINKS:

TOTAL TEMPTATION: http://www.harpercollins.com/9780062346407/total-temptation

TOTAL IMMERSION: http://www.harpercollins.com/9780062346414/total-immersion

TOTAL ABANDON: http://www.harpercollins.com/9780062346568/total-abandon

AUTHOR BIO:

Alice Gaines likes her fiction hot, hot, hot.

Alice has a PhD from the University of California at Berkeley. She shares a house in Oakland California with her pet corn snake and a stray cat that lives in her yard.

When Alice isn’t making up stories in her head, she spends her time cooking, gardening, and listening to her favorite band, Tower of Power.

AUTHOR MEDIA LINKS:

Twitter: @AliceGaines

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/pages/Alice-Gaines-Romance-Author/141294779233454

BLOG TOUR HOSTED BY:

a Rafflecopter giveaway

TOTAL TEMPTATION: Chapter One

The butterflies in Cassandra Willis’s stomach hatched their own butterflies as she waited for the owner of Club Ecstasy. Seated on the visitor’s side of an antique mahogany desk, Cassandra flipped through the pages of the photo album Madeline Shaw’s assistant had given her. Madeline would only be a few minutes late, the young woman had assured Cassandra, and suggested she might spend the time selecting the man who would serve her.

For a moment, the assistant had sounded ready to say the man who would “service” her. If she had, Cassandra might very well have dropped the book and fled. Paying a man to serve her in bed was bad enough. She might have come here for a stud but not for stud service. Semantics aside, reality remained. If she went through with this scheme, and her body would never give her any peace if she didn’t, in all probability, she’d end up making love with one of these beautiful strangers before the evening was over.

No, not making love. Having sex or maybe even that other, coarser word that had never passed her lips. She would not make love with any of these men. She’d only made love with one man in her life. Now that Howard had died, she might fall in love again. After what her parents would consider a respectable number of years, of course. Until then, no lovemaking for her.

But she’d have sex. Tonight. With one of these men. Oh, God, what was she doing?

Still holding the book, she got up and paced around the room. In her normal life, she never would have considered coming to a place like this, no matter how elegant, to hire a man to give her pleasure. But Howard had died months earlier, and she’d had nothing other than the vibrator that had come delivered in plain brown paper to take the edge off the aching need that plagued her waking moments and stole into her dreams.

The desperation had driven her to Club Ecstasy—to the only place in the city where a woman could safely and discretely find not just relief from sexual frustration but fulfillment of all her fantasies. She’d had to take a risk to visit a facility owned by one of her husband’s acquaintances. Madeline Shaw had known Howard longer than Cassandra had. But Madeline also had a reputation for strict confidentiality. After all, she had herself to protect as well as her clients. An operation like this couldn’t be legal.

Cassandra paced some more and stewed, half wanting to run like hell and half vibrating with excitement at the prospect of finally having a virile lover of her own age after a marriage to a much older man. She couldn’t afford to get caught here, but neither could she stand to go home without finally experiencing the sensual pleasures she’d been denied in her marriage.

“Please excuse me for making you wait.” Madeline Shaw swept into the room, bringing a hint of San Francisco’s cool climate with her.

Cassandra started, nearly jumping. When her heart settled, she smiled. “I’ve been entertaining myself.”

“Good.” When Madeline removed her coat, the scent of an elegant perfume wafted from her. Perhaps something from Madeline’s own line of colognes. Very sophisticated, but Cassandra would not be able to carry it off for years and years.

“See anything you like?” Madeline asked.

“Like? Of these men?” Cassandra held out the photo album. “That’s an inadequate word. They’re all so . . .”

Madeline chuckled and took her seat. “They are, aren’t they? All my men are top-notch.”

Cassandra also sat. “Would you mind if I asked you a question?”

Madeline folded her hands together on top of the desk. “Feel free. I won’t answer if I don’t care to.”

“All this?” Cassandra gestured around her. “Why?”

“Why have an exclusive club for women?”

Put that way—as no more than a club—this place made perfect sense. Women needed to get away from the stresses of life, and a facility like this one, with its spa and gym, beauticians, and private shoppers, didn’t seem unusual at all. But then, there was a lot more to Club Ecstasy than that. “No, that isn’t what I’m asking, I guess.”

“You really want to know why I have male sex providers,” Madeline said.

Cassandra’s cheeks warmed. She’d be blushing brightly enough for Madeline to see. She’d be doing worse than that in a few hours if she could keep up her courage.

“Don’t be embarrassed. That’s what everyone asks,” Madeline said. “My men are here to give my clients pleasure. Women deserve that as much as men do, perhaps more.”

“But you’ve been so successful with your careers, first modeling and now your perfume and makeup lines. You don’t need to do this.”

Madeline leaned back against her chair and smiled. With the elegant cut and style of her hair, her perfect makeup, and her designer clothing, Madeline made the very picture of understated wealth. She didn’t have to run a facility that would earn her scorn if its existence became public.

“Let’s just say Club Ecstasy has always been a dream of mine,” Madeline said.

“Do you use the men . . . that is, their services?” Darn it all, there was that word—services.

“Well, now, I’m not dead yet.” Madeline’s smile broadened. “But let’s talk about you. That way, I’ll be sure we can find you just the right match.”

Cassandra’s fingers clenched together in her lap. “There’s not much to tell.”

“Au contraire. There’s a lot to say about you.”

Cassandra had done her best to rehearse some explanation for why she’d shown up in search of, well, sex. Nothing had come to her, and for sure, nothing would now, either. Cassandra and Madeline had been in the same social set for years. She couldn’t possibly share the fact that Howard had been a considerate lover but not what every young woman dreams of. Certainly not the stuff of the books she kept in a box in the back of her closet.

“If you won’t put it into words, I will,” Madeline said after a moment. “Howard was too old for you.”

“Howard was a wonderful husband.”

“Of course he was. He was a dear man, but he was still too old for you. How many years, exactly?”

Cassandra’s stomach twisted. She always hated confessing she’d married someone only a year younger than her father. The difference in age made her seem like a gold digger, which was exactly what his sons were trying to prove in court so they could invalidate the will.

“Thirty years,” she said.

Madeline’s brow creased, the first mark of imperfection on her beautiful face. “How old are you now?”

“Twenty-seven. I was twenty-two when we married. Howard was fifty.”

“And were you . . . how shall I put this . . .”

“A virgin? Yes.”

“Oh, dear Lord,” Madeline said. “It was your father’s idea, wasn’t it?”

“No. I loved Howard. I was happy to marry him.” Her parents had encouraged her, despite the fact she’d just graduated from college and hadn’t begun to figure out what to do with her life. Her mother had insisted she’d be “set,” and her father went on and on about what a good man Howard was. He hadn’t mentioned the business deal he’d hope to win through the match.

And then, Howard had seemed so dignified when they’d met. The grey at his temples perfectly complimented the cut of his business suit. They’d joked about how he didn’t do apps or social media, even though he bought her all the latest electronics—her toys, as he’d called them. They’d both insisted age was a number.

But underneath the clothes, he’d still been a middle-aged man. Would she have changed her mind if they’d made love before the engagement? The woman who loved him said no. The young woman who’d never shared a bed with a young man might give a different answer.

“Still, your father was happy for the marriage and moved things along quickly, didn’t he?” Madeline asked.

Cassandra might have wondered at that if she hadn’t been so excited about being in love and planning a gorgeous wedding. Now that she’d inherited much of Howard’s company and could complete the merger her father had wanted for years, she didn’t have to wonder. Of course, if Howard’s sons got their way, Cassandra wouldn’t inherit anything, and her father would lose the business connection he’d married her off for. None of them could find out she’d visited Club Ecstasy.

“Never mind that now.” Madeline nodded toward the photo album. “Let’s see what we can do for you.”

Cassandra opened the book again and flipped through the pages. One of them men wore a tuxedo with the bow tie undone and hanging from his neck. Like Howard, he looked fabulous in clothes, but the planes of his chest and flat abdomen promised a firm body underneath. The next page revealed a surfer dude with a warm smile and naked torso above swim trunks snug enough to outline his genitals. Quite an impressive display. She barely noticed the surfboard next to him. For a moment, Cassandra could imagine the scent of sunscreen as his slick body moved against hers. Definitely tempting.

“Jeff would be a good choice for you,” Madeline said. “I imagine you’ve had enough of elegance and would like some fun.”

“I’m sure he’d be wonderful.” The closer it came to coming true, the more ridiculous the whole plan seemed. And the more inevitable. She simply couldn’t go back home unfulfilled. Not to more days and nights of denial and misery. “Everything I do here will have to remain secret.”

“Of course. All my clients need privacy.”

“It’s not only a matter of general principle,” Cassandra said. “Howard’s sons would love to brew a scandal around me.”

“Ah, yes. Cynthia’s boys,” Madeline said.

They’d never seemed like boys to Cassandra, what with the eldest being a few years older than she. And now, they were making her life miserable. First, the lawyers. Then, the faceless men who followed her everywhere. Even if she had planned to sleep with someone after a few dates, the boys’ private investigators had ruined that plan by scaring off any man she’d stepped onto a public sidewalk with. No, Club Ecstasy was her only option, as unbelievable as that sounded.

“They’re putting out the lie that I slept around during our marriage,” Cassandra said. “If I’m caught with another man, they will claim I was involved with him before my husband died.”

“But, surely, that wouldn’t invalidate Howard’s will,” Madeline said.

“Not that in itself, but they’re claiming he had early-onset dementia. They even have a quack of a psychiatrist who’s looked through Howard’s medical records to make his diagnosis.” Her fingers made air quotes the word around “diagnosis.” “The sons accused me of taking advantage of his mental status by drugging him and getting him to change his will in my favor.”

Madeline scowled, actually showing the lines in her face. “I see they inherited their mother’s temperament. And love of money.”

“I didn’t help things, I’m afraid.” She cringed inwardly remembering her stupidity. “I dared to go out on a date shortly after Howard’s passing. To a club with a man I’d just met.”

“Surely, there’s no crime in that,” Madeline said.

Most of the details of that evening had dissolved into a blur of light-headedness and wobbly legs. Then bright flashes of light and yelling. “I drank too much. I was a mess when I came out of Le Cabaret, leaning all over my date. The press caught it all.”

“I didn’t pay much attention to that. It was you?”

“Howard Junior has all the pictures, and he’s shown them to the judge,” she said. “Who’s a member of his yacht club.”

“I see.” Madeline clucked her tongue. “Well. We practice strict confidentiality. My men know they’ll be fired if they kiss and tell. The other patrons won’t even see you here.”

That fit with everything she’d learned about the club. One of her friends had gotten tipsy at a party and mentioned privately to Cassandra that, as a young widow, she might want to try the place out. Even after too much to drink, Tina wouldn’t give her many details for fear she wouldn’t be allowed to come back if she said too much. She’d only given Cassandra an e-mail address and code word. Then, Cassandra had waited to hear back that she’d been accepted. The whole time her anticipation and, yes, a certain amount of titillation had grown.

“Everything seems secure,” she said.

“Good. Shall we get Jeff for you?” Madeline asked.

“Let me look a bit . . .” Cassandra turned a page, and the rest of her thought flew right out of her mind. The man in the picture was like no one she’d ever seen. He had a fabulous body with broad shoulders and well-defined biceps, but she could have said that about all the men in the book. Unlike the others, however, he wore clothes that molded to his body—a snug T-shirt and leather pants. Rather than an affectation, the pants made sense, given that he sat astride a motorcycle. Spiky blond hair and a gold earring in one ear gave him a decidedly dangerous air, but what really made her breath catch was the expression on his face. The insolent smile on his ample lips and the light of defiance in his eyes suggested he’d like to eat her up and he knew how to make her enjoy it.

Madeline glanced at the page. “You found Bobby.”

“Yes, I think I did.”

“He could be right for you, although . . .”

“Although what?” she asked.

“Bobby’s new, and he’s a little rough around the edges,” Madeline said. “But, his clients have complimented him on his stamina, if you get my drift.”

That he wouldn’t fade but could make the sex last for a good, long time. She almost melted at the thought. “Anything else?”

“He can be adventurous, but of course, you decide what you want to do.” Madeline reached over and placed her hand over Cassandra’s. “You’re very nearly a virgin. Are you sure you’re ready for a wild ride like Bobby?”

“There’s one way to find out, isn’t there?” Her mind may have hesitated, but her body had decided the moment she’d set eyes on his image. Bobby was everything she’d dreamed of ever since she’d learned she was a sexual creature with powerful urges. Urges that had never been fully satisfied. They would be tonight.

“I want Bobby,” she said. Possibly the first time she’d ever made a direct statement to anyone about what or who she wanted. Her first step toward sexual freedom.

“Bobby you shall have.” Madeline rose. “I’ll show you to your suite.”

{TXB1}

Madeline hadn’t exaggerated when she’d called Cassandra’s space at Club Ecstasy a suite. It included a small sitting room with a desk and shelves full of books, a walk-in closet that could serve as a dressing room, and of course, a bedroom. She also had a private terrace with a hot tub. That would have allowed a view of the city if it weren’t for the wall of bamboo curtains that ran around the perimeter. A shame, perhaps, but the barrier guaranteed her privacy. Still, some sun penetrated, allowing the potted cymbidium orchids to cover themselves in sprays of blooms. It was quite lovely and intimate.

As much as she craned her neck searching for prying eyes, it appeared no one even inside the restored mansion could see what went on, which meant she could climb naked into the hot tub, if she wanted. And she might just decide she wanted to.

She left the terrace and went back into the bedroom. After removing the jacket of her business suit and draping it carefully over the back of the chair at the dressing table, she stood in the middle of the room with her hands together in front of her skirt. What did one do in this situation? Get undressed and climb onto the bed? Surely, they’d end up there, probably rolling around on the huge mattress. Still, she and Bobby would at least introduce themselves before getting on to—whatever they got on to.

At least she could get out of her shoes. She’d worn low heels, but with her shaky knees, she wobbled a bit in them. If she did that, should she also remove her panty hose? Why did it all have to be so complicated? And why didn’t he show up so she could get past these jitters? He must have dealt with shy clients before. Surely he’d have some way to soothe her nerves.

Finally, the outer door, the one to the sitting room, opened and closed, and then the man from the picture appeared on the threshold to the bedroom. Taller than she’d expected, he dominated the space around him. He wore jeans rather than leather, but they fit him like a second skin, the faded denim inviting her fingers to explore the muscles beneath. His T-shirt stretched over his chest. Not an ounce of softness on his entire body that she could see. Exactly what she’d hoped for. His blond hair was just as wild as in his picture, and the earring sparkled as if winking at her. His blue gaze settled on her, lingering on her breasts for a moment before moving to her face.

“Nice,” he said.

“Thank you.” The words came out on a croak, so she cleared her throat before walking toward him, her hand extended. “I’m Cassandra. I’d rather not use my last name.”

“We don’t need names at all.” He took her hand in his, but instead of shaking it, he brought her fingers to his mouth and nibbled gently on the tips.

She could have laughed at the absurdity of having her fingers in a strange man’s mouth if he hadn’t given her exactly the look from his picture—as if she were something particularly tempting to eat. After a few seconds, she began to tremble, so she pulled her hand back.

His eyebrows rose. “Nervous, princess?”

“No, I . . . well . . . that is . . . princess?”

“That’s what you look like to me,” he said. “The beautiful princess who’s been locked in the tower her whole life. Let’s bring you down to earth.”

He put his big hands on her hips and turned her around. Before she could protest, ask him what he intended, or ask what she should do, he moved his fingers upward and massaged kink after kink out of her shoulders and neck. Her muscles became pliant beneath his touch, and rather than trembling, she swayed backward toward him,

He put his mouth against her ear. “That’s it, princess. Relax.”

“You do that very well.” Her voice had dropped a couple of octaves from its earlier croak, and even to her own ears, she sounded, well, sexy.

So when he lowered his lips to the space just behind her earlobe, she didn’t flinch or jump but accepted the caress. As sweet as it was, the kiss lingered in that sensitive spot until her head grew heavy and tipped to the side, exposing her throat to him.

“Now we’re talking,” he murmured. Reaching around, he grasped the ends of the bow that fastened the top of her blouse and undid it. That bared more of her skin, and he trailed kisses down her neck and onto her shoulder. She almost groaned with pleasure. This was exactly what she’d come for: pure sex with a man who knew what he was doing. She didn’t have to worry about propriety or spying eyes. She could simply take whatever he gave her, and if this tiny sample indicated what he could do, she’d made the right decision.

Somehow, he’d made her surrender simple. No discussions or intellectual decisions. She only had to allow herself to enjoy his caresses. How could she not? His touch was exquisite. Just the right amount of pressure, kissing, nibbling, and touching her with his tongue. She leaned against him, silently asking for more and giving him permission to explore.

“I love the way you respond, princess,” he said. “You’re making me hot.”

“Yes.” She’d agreed to something with that word. Who knew what? Who cared as long as he continued to set fire to her nerves?

“Oh, yeah.” His hands rose to cup her breasts and squeezed. Their first step across a sexual border, and it felt so good. Her flesh seemed to swell and press against her bra, becoming sensitive enough to ache with need.

“You like that?” he asked.

Instead of answering, she gave him a moan that turned into a sigh.

“Good.” He found her nipples through the layers of clothing, rubbing his thumbs over the peaks until they stiffened.

A conscious thought formed at the back of her mind. I’ve become aroused. And was she ever. This was what she’d imagined while reading the explicit parts of her novels. Sensuality that could pull you under, drowning out the real world and washing away any objection with its power.

Excitement like this shouldn’t be possible. It should only exist in fiction, but here she stood, feeling the tug. Giving in to it. Letting it rob her of thought, of breath.

“You’re amazing,” he said. “Let’s see if you’re wet.”

The word scarcely registered, but when he reached to her skirt and tugged up the hem, his destination penetrated the fog in her mind. She had no time to object or even to tense as his fingers brushed against the fabric covering her mound. They landed on the lips between her thighs, so swollen and sensitive. Her legs gave out, and she sagged against him.

With an evil laugh, he caught her around the waist and held her upright. “Let me guess. Panty hose and panties.”

“Oh, God.”

“I didn’t think women wore panty hose anymore,” he said. “That’s okay. I like a challenge.”

Challenge. She was a challenge. Whatever that meant as long as he didn’t stop. He didn’t. His hand returned to her mound, rubbing back and forth, back and forth. Heat swirled inside her, building.

“You’re wet, princess,” he said. “All the way through your clothes. Damn, but I want to fuck you.”

She’d never used that word. Not once. She’d always thought it filthy. On his lips, it was the sexiest thing she’d ever heard. He wanted to take his erection out of his pants—Lord, let it be big—and put it inside her. Plunge it into the place that ached for it.

She’d have that, and the knowledge let her spirit soar toward the ceiling. She’d experience the glory of truly great sex. They could go all night until she couldn’t stand any more. In the meantime, he kept pushing her toward orgasm without having removed an article of her clothing. She would climax. She’d passed the point where she’d have any choice. The only question remaining was how good he could make it.

Then his finger landed on just the right spot. The most sensitive flesh above the entrance to her body. Shuddering in his arms, she released a cry.

“Found it,” he said. “Let’s get down to business.”

If business meant driving her wild, he already had her there. Now he severed her last tether to reality. A red haze surrounded her mind as he pressed against her hot button, stroking and rolling it.

Blindly, she clutched at his arm. “Don’t stop.”

“Trust me.”

“Yes, yes. Just don’t stop.”

He didn’t. If anything, he increased the pressure against her, rubbing hard and fast. She throbbed now, each second closer to flying apart. The arousal tightened like a fist inside her. Just one more second, one more press of his finger. Here. Now. Now!

The orgasm started low in her belly and radiated outward to her whole body. Her throat opened, and she shouted as the spasms started in her sex. The waves came hard, each one cresting over the other until she hit the peak. She hung there for several seconds, and he never stopped his stroking until she’d finished and leaned back again, her head resting against his shoulder.

He eased her around until her face settled onto his chest. Beneath her ear, his heart raced. An odd fact she’d have to analyze when her mind was once again under her control. In the meantime, she could only wonder at the softness of his T-shirt against her cheek and the gentleness of his palms stroking her back.

When breath returned, she sighed. “Oh, my. That was . . . wonderful.”

“Imagine what I can do when we’re undressed.”

Good heavens, he had a point. He hadn’t undone anything except for the bow of her blouse. How absolutely bizarre. Howard had made love to her during the day, but he’d never come up behind her and given her an orgasm standing fully clothed in the middle of a room. He’d approached sex the way he’d approached everything: deliberately and with precision.

She stepped away from Bobby and glanced down at herself. Aside from her lack of shoes, she could simply do up the bow of her blouse and join polite company. No one would know what had just happened to her or the fact that her sex still fluttered with aftershocks.

Bobby crossed his arms over his chest and studied her face. “What’s going on, princess?”

“Nothing.” Her cheeks warmed.

“You’re embarrassed.”

“Why should I be embarrassed?” she said. “I came here for sex, after all.”

“Yeah, but it’s not the same thing as getting your hair done, is it?”

She lifted her chin and held his gaze. “We should all try new things. Otherwise, we’ll never learn and grow.”

He laughed. Loudly. “That’s the most creative excuse I’ve ever heard for paying some guy to fuck your brains out.”

“I beg your pardon.”

“Personal growth.” He continued laughing. “Why don’t you toss in a little Zen? We can practice some yoga later.”

“I don’t see why you have to be so crude.”

“Crude is what you wanted.”

She straightened to her full height, not that it matched his. Not even close. “I did not.”

“This club is full of men who know how to make a woman happy. If you wanted refinement, you could have chosen any one of them who’d wear a tux and quote poetry,” he said. “You chose me.”

“I can change my mind, I imagine.”

“You sure can.” He put his hands on his hips. “Up to you.”

Maybe he’d deliberately taken a posture to show off his body at its best. And to reveal the outline of his erection behind the fabric of his jeans, and oh my, was it ever impressive.

Yes, she could call Madeline on the house phone and ask for a change from Bobby to someone more like the men she encountered in her normal life. And yes, the new man would be an expert at sex and no doubt well-endowed. But no one else would look quite like Bobby—forbidden and delicious.

“I’m sorry. I’m not used to this,” she said.

“Not too many women are.”

She lifted her chin and looked him in the eye. “Let’s proceed, shall we?”

He raised an eyebrow. “By all means, princess. Any idea what you’d like to do next?”

Well. He wanted her to decide. She hadn’t considered that she might have to make decisions. She could ask him to direct things, of course, but that might make her appear even more inhibited than he already thought she was, and she’d already made herself look like a nervous virgin. She shouldn’t care what he thought, of course, but she’d already been more intimate with him than she had with any man other than her husband. That had to mean something.

She glanced around the room, and her gaze automatically fell on the bed. Maybe she ought to simply ask him to “fuck her brains out,” as he’d said. The words would probably stick in her throat. Then she remembered the terrace.

“The hot tub. Why don’t we sit in that for a while and get to know each other.”

“You didn’t bring a bathing suit, did you?” he asked.

“No. Should I have?”

“Princess, you’re adorable.” He draped an arm over her shoulder and guided her toward the doorway leading to the terrace. “I don’t want anything between you and me, not even the skimpiest bikini.”

“You were kidding me.”

“You take things too seriously.” He reached down and swatted her bottom. “Get in the hot tub. I’ll join you in a second.”