Temptation Close

Scarlett Rush

Description

Hunter is coming and the wives of Temptation Close have nowhere to hide. He is drop-dead gorgeous, an ex-soldier, ex-con and ex-husband - a man who claims he will never lie and yet tries to conceal his dark past. He spells danger but he is too good to resist. Is he an Angel of Retribution, a devil sent to wreck marriages, or simply the perfect man to make their fantasies come true? One thing is for certain: there is no love strong enough to override nature's urge for him. Before Hunter and After Hunter: the time when you thought you had everything and the time when you realised you were wrong.

Sujets

• Erotic literature

Informations

• Publié par: Andrews UK
• Date de parution: 15 juillet 2014
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781783338603
• Langue: English

Extrait

Title Page
TEMPTATION CLOSE

Scarlett Rush



Publisher Information
Temptation Close
published in 2014 by House of Erotica
an imprint of Andrews UK Limited
www.houseoferoticabooks.com
This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior written consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published, and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.
The characters and situations in this book are entirely imaginary and bear no relation to any real person or actual happening.
Copyright © Scarlett Rush 2014
Cover Design by Nick Tiseo
The right of Scarlett Rush to be identified as author of this book has been asserted in accordance with section 77 and 78 of the Copyrights Designs and Patents Act 1988.



Prologue: The Coming
Kneeling on the floor of the master bedroom between the window and the bed itself, Hunter leant sideways towards the blinds and spied through the slats, down upon the residents of Temptation Close, all out in the street below. He didn’t know why this house had so strongly forced itself into his consciousness, since it was barely half the price he could afford, but now on his second viewing he could see it was even better than he had first imagined. In some ways it was nothing less than perfect. It sent a fizzle through his veins. It was a rush that swelled still further his already iron-hard erection.
A street party was going on below, for no apparent reason other than it was a beautiful early summer’s day. Out there was a scene of togetherness and shared enjoyment that was rare to find in any neighbourhood. This small, hidden close of eight houses was definitely something special. There were barbeques lined up on the driveway of Number One, wheeled out of various garages to cook the food en masse. Here stood the guys in shorts and half-sleeve shirts, prodding sausages and chicken thighs with long tongs, joking and drinking beer from bottles. They looked relaxed and happy. They had a confidence born of the knowledge that they had each bagged themselves a nice-looking lady, and then done their manly act and sired children. They lived in nice three or four bed detached houses and were reasonably secure in these times of global financial uncertainty. They were in good professions, generally earning more than the average guy. They were like-minded and liked each other. They were not just neighbours but genuine friends.
There might have been some ribbing and attempts at one-upmanship between them - they were the male of the species, after all. Plus there was a female that needed impressing, for here also was the gorgeous biker chick from Number Three, the house in the top corner diagonally opposite this one. She had made her entrance late, when everyone was already out in the street. She had loudly rippled into the close astride her fat-tanked Harley, causing the guys to dart about clearing trestle tables, ice boxes and children out of her way. Through them all she went, sat in that languid, wide-legged, slightly leant-back stance. With all that throbbing power between her thighs, with her open-faced helmet and black mirror shades, she looked as cool as the very coolest cucumber.
The guys stopped to watch as she parked on her drive and dismounted. She didn’t go in. She removed her helmet and shook out her long dark hair. She took off her shades and put them alongside the helmet now placed upon the petrol tank. She took off her jacket, revealing a colourful full-sleeve tattoo all down her right arm. She slung the jacket over the saddle, gave some nods and waves towards the wives, then made her way directly towards the guys. She flashed wide smiles at them all, went into their midst and swigged directly from the bottle of offered beer.
Her white T-shirt was tight over her ample though perky come-get-me bosom. Her black leather trousers and heavy boots must have been sweltering in the heat but she looked only chilled and ever fragrant. She was tall and wide-shouldered. She had large brown eyes and a small, narrow nose. She wore dark cherry-coloured lipstick and revealed perfect white teeth when she smiled. She was instantly the centre of the men’s attention.
Hunter had seen this girl before. On his first viewing a few days ago she had been out on her drive, polishing the chrome on her bike. On his exit she had openly watched him as he went back to his car, parked out on the street leading into the close. She had stood looking very sure of herself, with her legs apart, one hand on hip, the other flat to the petrol tank. It was obvious she was sizing up her potential new neighbour. Just before he went out of view behind Number One she took the hand off her hip, pressed it to her lips and then gave him a little finger-waggling wave. It was more of a come-on than a goodbye. That wasn’t it though. That wasn’t the reason he booked a second viewing of the house as soon as he got back home.
The place had already gotten to him the moment it almost popped out from the pile of spec sheets splayed across the desk. He had told the estate agent girl his specific requirements and budget but she clearly hadn’t been listening, since she gave him details of seemingly every property on their books. However, there it was: a very normal-looking new build that drew his attention. He had wanted something with more character and in a more secluded position within the village, yet each time he put the spec sheet down to look at others, he kept picking it back up again. It was like the house was forcing itself upon him. He asked to arrange a viewing and the estate agent girl got the keys and took him round immediately, knowing the owner to be away.
Hunter was new to the area and only vaguely grasped the layout of the village. It was large and sprawling, with ancient thatches alongside brand new cottages, and just finished developments shoe-horned into parcels of available land. Such was Temptation Close. It struck him that, from the air, the road area of the close would resemble the silhouette of a clay pipe. One got in and out via a single narrow road that went straight for some thirty yards and then curved to the right around a clutch of trees that shielded the houses from the rest of the village. This thin neck came in at the bottom of the close, which then opened out to become the pipe’s bowl - basically a rectangle, longer than it was wide. The houses sat all around the bowl: two at each side, two at the top, and two at the bottom. There was a theme to the styling but each was different and had variations on internal architecture. The larger four-beds were at the sides of the bowl, facing each other. The three-beds were at opposite ends of the close, top and bottom. The house Hunter was to view was lucky Number Seven, the three-bed in the bottom far corner.
It was light and smart inside, open and spacious. The plasterwork was crisp, the kitchen chic. The free-standing wood burner was a nice feature of the lounge, the double-sized shower in the master en suite made it even more attractive. Most importantly there was a so-called sun room at the back, with windows in the sloped roof and a whole wall of glass facing out onto the garden. It was not overlooked from the rear and would be a perfect space to use as his studio. Plus the garden it looked out on had already had the lawn taken up and replaced with artificial grass, and Hunter was more inclined to strim his own head off than waste any time fannying around with a mower.
There had been some activity in the close that first day, a couple of the kids riding up and down on their bikes. Today they were all out, from toddler to early teen, chasing each other around, kicking footballs back and forth, or munching on chicken drumsticks and leaving the majority of the marinade on their faces. Hunter liked neatness and quiet, and these kids were messy and noisy. However, it was a small price since children equalled yummy mummies - a breed of female he was most partial to - and here there was an oasis of them, a half dozen gathered opposite their men-folk, not a bad or even ordinary one amongst them, all sipping wine and animatedly chatting to one another whilst trying to keep their offspring in check.
It was a sight to release a surge of dark passion in Hunter’s belly. It made his heavy balls tighten and threaten to unload. All looked deliciously edible in their summer wear. All were different but equally appealing. His eyes flitted from one to the next and everything he saw gripped him. There was a range of ages from, he guessed, late twenties to maybe forty, making the eldest of them a good two years his junior. The majority of them would have been born a decade after him, but this would not matter. They would not be discouraged by his age. If his looks didn’t instantly sway them he had other gifts that would.
There was no way to decide which of their traits he found most alluring: whether the porcelain whiteness and long red hair of one turned him on more than the tanned Mediterranean skin and jet black locks of another; whether the tall willowy frame of the hippy one made his erection pulse more than the ample bottom and thighs of the youngest-looking one. One had short hair and lovely dimples, looking sweet in her purple-rimmed glasses and baby-pink top. Another, almost certainly the eldest, looked like classic cougar material, with dyed blonde hair and a good portion of her large chest on view. How could one possibly decide which was the most attractive? A good portion of red-blooded males would want them all, maybe all at once, if only in fantasy. At that point he decided it must happen.
‘I want to make an offer,’ he said to the estate agent girl.