Pleasure for Two

Pleasure for TwoPleasure for Two
November, 2010

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Dominique King wants to have it all. Raised in the lap of luxury, the thirty-three-year-old Bank Supervisor covets the finer things in life and doesn’t mind working hard to get them either. Five-nine, with striking looks, the Seattle native is living the American dream and looking damn good doing it.

When Dominique meets hunky, international graduate student, Marcel Benoit at a party one Saturday night, sparks fly. Sparks so hot she feels faint.  The brother is fine. Dreamy eyes. Chiselled features. Probably two-hundred pounds. All of it muscle. Marcel has full, moist lips that showcase even white teeth, smooth mocha skin, and a wicked set of forearms. When Marcel extends his right hand in greeting, Dominique draws a blank. His eyes grab her. Pierce her. Undress her. Men with French accents have always been her weakness and Dominique loves his soft, titillating voice and the gorgeous body attached to it.

Acting on her impulse has never felt more right, but one reckless night of pleasure has serious consequences for Dominique. In the space of a month, her life and reputation is in serious jeopardy. Marcel is ready to change his bachelor status. Ready to settle down with the right woman. So, why won’t Dominique give him a chance?  Marcel’s nothing if not determined, and sets out to prove to the head-strong career woman that he can be trusted with her heart.


Inside the pantry, Marcel Benoit rummaged around in the freezer. Arms filled with boxes of frozen foods, he closed the door with his foot and started back towards the kitchen. He heard a car horn beep and glanced out the window in time to see a black Range Rover pull up in front of his uncle’s house. Marcel didn’t recognize the car, but when he saw a dark, shapely sister slip out of the driver’s seat he stopped short. As I live and breathe, I’ve never seen a more stunning woman. Blown away, he wondered if the ebony angel was the masseuse he’d spoken to on the phone last week. Dominique…Dominique King. That was her name. A gorgeous name for an obviously gorgeous woman, he decided, watching her with growing interest.

His eyes roved over her svelte body. Sleek, glossy hair coursed down her back. Hair he wanted to touch and stroke and bury his fingers in. Though casually dressed in a white tank top and shorts, he could tell this sister with the sky-high cheekbones and full lips had very expensive tastes. Her face had a natural glow and her movements were graceful. Peering through the glass, he fought a strong, overpowering desire for a woman he’d never met, but was desperate to.

Did this constitute as spying? Deciding it didn’t, he inched closer to the bay window. Sweat soaked through his shirt as his eyes explored the beautiful stranger. Worried he might be spotted, he shielded himself behind the heavy burgundy drapes.

Doors opened and slammed. Five women wearing pink Destination Wellness T-shirts joined the driver at the back of the SUV, and helped her unload the trunk. Caesar wasn’t kidding when he said the sisters at Destination Wellness were centerfolds. Carrying cases in hand, they marched up the cobblestone walkway in single file. Well, everyone except the driver. She didn’t walk; she floated.

Snapping to, he streaked into the kitchen, dropped the boxes on the counter and checked himself out in the microwave door. By the time the doorbell rang, he was ready to meet the sister with the smoky eyes and winsome curves.

“You must be Dominique,” he said. “I’m Marcel. We spoke on the phone last week.”

“Of course, it’s nice to finally meet you.”

Her voice was the sweetest sound he’d ever heard.

“These are my co-workers.” She gestured to the women behind her. “This is Electra, Jasmine, Suzette, …”

Like a twister in a deserted field, his thoughts ran wild. Dominique wasn’t wearing a wedding ring, but he knew there was no way this chocolate beauty was single. If by some stroke of luck she was, she probably had brothers chasing her down at every turn.

“Can we come inside?”

“Yes, of course, please come in.”

When Dominique stepped past him, he leaned in and inhaled her scent. Mesmerized. That’s how he felt when her fragrance drifted over him. Marcel was drawn to her, intrigued, filled with feelings he thought died when his ex-girlfriend, Sarita, had callously dumped him. But as he admired Dominique’s perfectly coiffed hair, and French manicured nails, he realized she was way out of his league. A woman like Dominique King would never look twice at a guy like him, so the quicker he dealt with his attraction to her, the better off he’d be. Back in control of himself and his unruly body, he asked, “Can I interest you ladies in something to drink? The bar is fully stocked with water, juice and beer.”

The women smiled politely, but shook their heads.

“This is a lovely home,” Dominique said, glancing around. “Did you want us to set up in the living room or out in the backyard?”

Marcel thought for a moment. He wanted the groomsmen to have a good time, but he didn’t want anyone pushing up on Dominique. Getting into a fist fight over a woman he barely knew would be juvenile, but he’d fight to the death before he let Kevin or Orlando steal her out from under him. “How about half of you stay here and the rest work outside?”

Dominique shared a confused look with the blonde standing beside her. “Okay, I guess that would be all right. Aja and Heather will stay here with me and…”

Marcel heard someone behind him, but he didn’t turn around. Dominique was speaking and she deserved his undivided attention.

“My, my, my, what do we have here?”

Dominique trailed off when a guy in blue swimming trunks strolled into the room. Today must be my lucky day, she thought. It’s raining men! First, she’d met Marcel Benoit and now another cutie was bounding towards her. Blue trunks had a nice smile, but he wasn’t nearly as handsome as Marcel. While Suzette made the introductions, Dominique discreetly checked out the soft-spoken millionaire she’d talked to twice last week.

Marcel was a clean-cut, athletic looking type. His face was dominated by deep, riveting eyes and he spoke with a slight, but distinct French accent. And if that wasn’t enough to excite her, he had the most delicious mouth she’d ever seen. Though dressed modestly in a white t-shirt and shorts, he had a distinguished, almost regal bearing about him. Add to that his staggering wealth, and he was a perfect ten. His mansion was a bold, lavish display of his riches and she was thoroughly impressed. Inside the garage, she’d spotted three luxury vehicles, a pair of jet skis and enough antique furniture to beautify The Vatican church. Marcel Benoit was exactly her type—established, accomplished and successful—and she was determined to get to know him better. Mixing business with pleasure was never a good idea, but Dominique wasn’t going to let anything get in the way of her spending quality time with the attractive millionaire.