Pleasure To The Max!. Cami Dalton

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СКАЧАТЬ her blank diary to the first page. A neurotic, unlucky mess she may be, but she was not about to be dissed by a damn house cat. Ron, the butthead, had been bad enough. She had her pride. She was a Parker. And Parker women lived life to the fullest and took no prisoners. If she needed to come up with a sexual fantasy, then, by golly, she was going to come up with the hottest, steamiest, wildest fantasy that was ever fantasized.

      Ink to paper, she started writing. Cassie wanted power. Specifically, she wanted sexual power. She wanted a man to crave her as he had never craved another woman. She wanted him so filled with lust that whenever he saw her all he could think about was getting inside her before he came. A single glance at her and he was stone hard.

      Writing furiously, she expounded on the general theme of her irresistible sexual allure, then decided, oh, what the hell, she might as well deal with all her issues in one fell swoop, and her pen was off again. She wanted excitement. She wanted danger. She wanted adventure.

      While Minerva and her mother both thrived on the stuff, Cassie had secretly found the concepts annoying and overrated. And, with her track record, who could blame her? Well, Cassie had. Or did. Or whatever. But no more.

      She was going to hold her own and be confident no matter what lay ahead. She didn’t want to worry about getting hurt, or embarrassing herself, or making stupid mistakes. She was going to be tough. She was going to kick ass. And the whole time she made lesser mortals look like incompetent turkeys, the man in her fantasy was going to be so brutally aroused that he’d screw her brains out every chance he got. Bullets could be whizzing over their heads and he’d want her. She was going to be the ultimate sex object. Albeit, a tough and powerful one.

      Cassie gave a lascivious chuckle. She dotted off the final punctuation mark with a dramatic flourish, then lifted her pen in the air, making a voilà gesture. After a moment, though, she sat up straight and frowned, wondering if she got to have any say as to how this paragon of manly prowess would look. The ever-mysterious Stasi had already had the hots for her stud muffin, Rajko, when she’d used the lover’s box. Was Cassie allowed to write down her preferences? It wasn’t like the darn thing came with an instruction manual.

      Then Cassie shrugged—it was her lover’s box and her fantasy; she could do what she wanted. All-righty then, she said to herself, what should he look like…? She tapped the pen against her bottom lip as she ran through the possibilities. One thing was a given. He definitely had to be well-endowed behind his zipper. Thick and large were the two most salient words that came to mind and she quickly jotted them down. A physique similar to a Calvin Klein underwear model’s would be fabulous, so she added this specification to her list.

      A few seconds later she also added the requirement, so hot he might as well be from a superior race of godlike beings. There, she thought, that should leave little to chance. Then she paused, and finished with, and a sexy killer tattoo!

      Cassie could feel a huge smile spread across her face as she placed the diary inside the lover’s box and closed the lid. She leaned over and carefully turned the miniature key, leaving it in the lock. She didn’t have a charm bracelet or a spare chain. Short of hanging it from the small yet erotic little nipple ring that she’d gotten back when she’d been trying to spice things up with Ron (a cringe-inducing phase of her life when she’d been desperate for a successful relationship and would have pierced her hoo-ha if she’d thought it would have cranked Ron’s motor), she’d have to wait until she could buy a ribbon or something.

      Though surely it didn’t matter if she wore the key or not as long as she locked her diary inside the box, right? Then again, maybe it did. What did she know? Cassie grinned. Decisions, decisions…

      Not that she actually believed that the whoopee-making Gypsy charm would work, but it would be a shame if she actually could’ve gotten laid by a Calvin Klein underwear model look-alike, yet didn’t because she’d screwed up over such a minor point.

      Then she decided, Aw, what the heck. This was supposed to be for laughs so she might as well go for the triple-X gold medal. Surprisingly having fun, she took the diminutive key out of the lock, then walked over to her dresser. She rummaged through her accessories until she found the tiny hoop of thin, fourteen-karat wire hiding among her earrings. She bunched her shirt up under her neck and after a few minutes of fiddling, turned to the mirror and caught sight of the erotic adornment.

      Wowzers. Talk about sexy. She flicked the key with the tip of her finger while a delicious tingle spread through her nipple. The tiny weight was an exquisite presence, subtle yet hard to ignore. She smoothed down her shirt. With the fabric on her bra fairly thin, only the barest hint was visible. She felt almost risqué, like she had a fabulous secret. For a girl with nothing but TiVo and snack foods on the horizon for the rest of the weekend, this was not a bad place to be.

      Cassie laughed and stepped over to the bed, picking up the lover’s box. It was made of wood and ornately carved, the outside intricately painted with gold-leaf swirls and a variety of hues that age couldn’t completely diminish. The gaudy thing somehow reminded her of a treasure chest turned inside out with all the jewel-like tones decorating its exterior. Gypsies were said to love bright colors and flashy ornamentation, and it appeared that King Rajko epitomized the stereotype. Not exactly the most tasteful curio or collectible she’d ever seen, but she liked it and thought it added character to her room.

      Her mouth curved into a wide grin, and with a bounce in her stride, she set the lover’s box onto her bedside table, then put Stasi’s diary in one of the stackable, plastic cubbies inside her closet for safekeeping. Wow, she thought, suddenly aware of her considerably elevated mood. Journaling out her deepest sexual longings had been downright cathartic.

      Yes, yes, obviously none of that nonsense about her fantasies was going to come true even if she was wearing the sexy key on her breast. Still, not to have a total Dr. Phil moment here, but…by going through the process of recording her secret desires she felt downright empowered. Free, somehow.

      Cassie couldn’t stop smiling. She even beamed at Creature when he yowled his displeasure at having his nap disturbed. She’d have scratched the little booger’s ear if she didn’t think he’d take her hand off.

      Laughing as if a burden had been lifted from her shoulders, Cassie strolled into the bathroom and started looking through the powders and gels in the cabinet under the counter. She decided to pamper herself, and deserved the treat. Fifteen minutes later, however, she had a moment’s hesitation when she found herself generously waxing parts of her body that were only waxed when a girl planned on getting very, very lucky. For a second she feared that subconsciously she somehow believed that the lover’s box was going to work.

      Then she shrugged this off, and decided that her aggressive, nudist-colony wax job was really just a sign of her positive, proactive thinking and she should be proud of herself for moving on as if there was truly a chance of anyone seeing her naked before the year was out. The touch-up job to her Honey Hotness toenail polish, and the liberal use of the deliciously scented bubble bath were also signs of her healthy mental state. Or so she assured herself as she lounged back in the warm bathwater, her eyes closed, her feet with their newly painted toes propped on the opposite rim, and the saucy little key to the lover’s box floating at her nipple.

      Her mind, at the moment, seemed incapable of thinking about much besides sex and she indulged herself, playing out a variety of scenarios where an obscenely handsome man licked, fondled, then fabulously screwed her newly waxed and scrubbed body. Then she heard the unmistakable sound of breaking glass. Cassie groaned.

      Creature had no doubt sneaked into the shop downstairs. She was not in the mood to deal with his vandalism when she felt this happy and relaxed. She heard another thump float up the stairs and cursed under her breath. Creature was a porker, on top of all his other attributes, but considering that СКАЧАТЬ