Along for the Ride Read online

  Praise for the writing of Saskia Walker

  Along for the Ride

  This story is pure erotic heat from beginning to end. My blood began to simmer when I read the first sentence! Calvin is a hot alpha male that makes a woman pant as soon as he's introduced and as the reader, I wished I was posing for one of his portraits. Don't miss this menage!

  --Sedonia Guillone, author of Taming Kate (Loose Id)

  The imagery in Along for the Ride is as lushly erotic as the hero's paintings, and the sexual tension will have you reaching for an ice bucket before you finish chapter one. The primitive needs, wants and emotions of each member of the ménage come through clearly, adding a deeper dimension to their lust for each other. I thoroughly enjoyed this exploration of sensual delights.

  -- Silvia Violet, author of Cup of Revelation (coming soon from Loose Id)

  In Along for the Ride, Saskia Walker has penned one hot, hot, hot story! What's a gal to do when not one but two men turn her on? Enjoy herself! Along with the rockin' sex add one part threat from the past and you have a fast, fun read with a great ending.

  -- Vonna Harper, author of Surrender’s Dance (coming soon from Loose Id)

  When Georgie takes Calvin up on his offer to model for him, she never expects her agreement will open up the door to a sexual oasis’s that will have her enjoying the touch of two lusty men. Along for the Ride will take you on a journey you’ll never want to end.

  -- Lena Matthews, author of Loving Lola (Loose Id)

  When you put so many artistic minds together, sparks are guaranteed to fly! A painter, a fashion student, a photographer, a journalist and a singer all take part in this wicked-hot story of betrayal, secrets and, ultimately, trust and love.

  -- Jet Mykles, author of Dark Elves 1: Taken (Loose Id)

  ALONG FOR THE RIDE

  Saskia Walker

  www.loose-id.com

  Warning

  This e-book contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language and may be considered offensive to some readers. Loose Id e-books are for sale to adults ONLY, as defined by the laws of the country in which you made your purchase. Please store your files wisely, where they cannot be accessed by under-aged readers.

  * * * * *

  This book is rated:

  For substantial explicit sexual content, graphic language, and situations that some readers may find objectionable (ménage, homoerotic sex, BDSM.)

  DISCLAIMER: Many of the acts described in our BDSM/fetish titles can be dangerous. Loose Id publishes these stories for members of the community in which these acts are known and practiced safely. If you have an interest in the pleasures and pains you find described herein, we urge you to seek out advice and guidance from knowledgeable persons. Please do not try any new sexual practice, whether it be fire, rope, or whip play, without the guidance of an experienced practitioner. Neither Loose Id nor its authors will be responsible for any loss, harm, injury or death resulting from use of the information contained in any of its titles.

  Along for the Ride

  Saskia Walker

  This e-book is a work of fiction. While reference might be made to actual historical events or existing locations, the names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Published by

  Loose Id LLC

  1802 N Carson Street, Suite 212-29

  Carson City NV 89701-1215

  www.loose-id.com

  Copyright © May 2005 by Saskia Walker

  Excerpt of Sierra Secrets: Dead Man’s Party copyright 2004 by Stephanie Vaughan

  All rights reserved. This copy is intended for the purchaser of this e-book ONLY. No part of this e-book may be reproduced or shared in any form, including, but not limited to printing, photocopying, faxing, or emailing without prior written permission from Loose Id LLC.

  ISBN 1-59632-139-3

  Available in Adobe PDF, HTML, MobiPocket, and MS Reader

  Printed in the United States of America

  Editor: Linda Kusiolek

  Cover Artist: April Martinez

  Dedication

  Along for the Ride is dedicated to the two people who got me this far -- Barbara Sabin, my dear friend and critique partner, and Mark Walker, my real life hero, the man who loves me and supports me every step of the way.

  Chapter One

  The paintbrush splayed out across her nipple. Georgie focused steadily on the canvas that Cal was working on, but felt the touch of the brush dart through her body like a lightning bolt, as if it were her skin that was being touched, rather than his painting of it. She looked away from the canvas and lifted her hair from the back of her neck, where the skin prickled with anxiety.

  Cal was totally focused on the painting, his eyes narrowed as he worked. Just looking at his strong bone structure and the firm line of his mouth gave her a physical thrill. Standing by his side, her body was throbbing, and a cloying heat had long since gathered between her thighs. Georgie had to face it -- she was horny as hell.

  She pulled her kimono into place and toyed with her empty coffee cup. She dipped her finger into the crystals of sugar clinging to the bottom of the cup to distract herself, idly sucking them off her fingertips.

  Cal lifted the brush from the canvas and turned toward her. She reached over to the tray and handed him his cup. He looked at her intently as he swallowed the fragrant espresso.

  “Blimey.” She nodded her head at the painting.

  “You don’t like it?”

  “Oh, yeah.” She chuckled. “I mean, what’s not to like?” Georgie took another look at the painting. “It’s very flattering.”

  “I’m glad you feel that way.” He smiled. It had a devastating effect on her. Her heart rate notched up another level; her core was on fire.

  “But ... do you really see me that way?”

  “Undoubtedly.”

  Another wave of heat coursed through her body.

  “It’s not so important what I see, but what I’m trying to make others see in you, the subject.” He gestured at the canvas. “Why don’t you tell me what you see?”

  Georgie blushed violently. Talk about putting you on the spot. She shook her hair out and tried to focus on the painting. The sense of identification she felt was uncanny. Yet the way he had depicted her, she looked like a sated harlot, one who was staring blatantly at the onlooker as if eager for more of the same. The image was so blatant. Her naked body lounged out across the rug and cushions, totally on display. Seeing it had immediately stirred something deep and pent-up inside her: sheer, rampant lust.

  If that was how he saw her, she must be downright obvious when she wanted a man. She hadn’t realized, although an ex had once said being assessed by her across a nightclub was like being hunted down by a lethal laser beam. She had laughed at the time, thinking that he was just saying it to flatter her.

  “I see ... um.” She fidgeted with her hair. “Passion, or even lust, I suppose.”

  “That’s good. That’s what I want.”

  Georgie threw him a look of amused accusation.

  He shrugged. “Well, it means we’re getting nearer to what I want ...” He gave her a quick, suggestive smile. “Let’s get back to work.”

  “You’re a real slave driver, aren’t you?”

  “You’d better believe it.” His eyebrows flickered. There it was again. He was flirting with her. Her heart missed a beat. She’d told herself over and again that she was simply modeling for him, but he persistently confused her by making remarks that kept her on edge. Her body simmered with arousal.

  She wandered back
to the pile of cushions and rugs, slipped out of the kimono, and settled herself. She ran her hands over her aroused breasts as she took up her pose, briefly answering their need for contact. She sighed. Modeling for Calvin Rolf was turning out to be even more challenging than she had imagined it might.

  He put the cup down and ran his hands through his hair before picking up the brush and returning to the canvas. His expression was keen. His eyes were almost indigo in their strange blueness -- intense and brooding, they followed every movement of her body.

  Georgie was getting used to seeing him from this strange sidelong viewpoint, and she watched him as he worked. The large studio, so sparse and simple, was more than filled with his presence.

  He was different than any other man she had known. He had an air of control and exuded self-confidence. The other students at college thought him attractive but eccentric, with his maverick ways and his distinctive Austrian accent. He was a very good-looking man, with strong facial bones and angular features. He had a narrow goatee, and his dark blond hair fell from his distinctive temples in light waves. His body was strong, lithely muscled, and fit, with a coiled energy about it that was decidedly sexual. He reminded her of a panther on the prowl.

  His work was renowned. A leading contemporary artist, he worked across many media and had pioneered large physical sculpture using synthetic resins and heat moulds. He was best known for the work he did in the realist tradition, depicting the human form in such a manner as to examine the soul, its very essence, through the image. To be chosen as a model by him had been an honor. Not to mention a complete turn-on.

  This was the third time she had come to his studio. The fading grandeur of the top-floor apartment was the perfect backdrop. He roved the space in an old army T-shirt and jeans splattered with paint, while she lay naked, strewn across the cushions. Her tense, aroused skin prickled as each light draft of air touched it.

  At first it felt strange to have him looking at her naked body for so long, but Georgie was an exhibitionist at heart. She’d always enjoyed parading herself and being looked at by her lovers, and this was somehow more intense and erotic. Not to mention the fact that he’d planted the thought of sex in her mind before she had even arrived for the first session. As a result, Georgie was kept in a constant state of arousal, her body alert and her imagination persistently wandering into dangerous territory. She was more than ready to leap on him and had to remind herself occasionally to get a grip on herself and try to maintain some decorum.

  She drew one knee up, as he had requested, and let her hips fall open. She rested her arm across her stomach, recapturing the pose he had arranged her in earlier in the session. Her hand rested gently over her hipbone. The sunlight fell through the lace curtains, and she was bathed in pools of dappled colors that rippled over her skin when the curtain drifted on the warm afternoon breeze.

  He stood watching while she settled, and then he turned back to the painting. The heat that was pooled in her groin kept her simmering, molten. She savored the feeling, her eyes closing.

  She’d seen him featured on a television documentary the year before she’d come down to London to study at the college. She remembered his terseness toward the interviewer -- it was as if he hadn’t wanted to discuss his work at all. She now recognized that as his way. Cal had an underlying edge to him, one that suggested an intense personality. His hawk-eyes never missed a thing. When he had turned and looked directly at her, her skin felt scorched under the scrutiny of his gaze

  “Oh, I am creaming ... it’s Calvin himself,” her friend Justine had whispered when he strode down the busy college corridor toward them.

  “Where? Oh ...” Georgie had stammered to a halt when she caught sight of him. He wasn’t the sort of man you could easily miss. As she watched him cutting a path through the crowded corridor, she understood Justine’s response. The man was sex on a stick.

  He was dressed immaculately in an expensive suit, his attention flitting over everyone with blatant appraisal as he passed. Justine was an unashamed man-hunter and clearly had the hots for the infamous artist. Georgie had heard that he tutored an occasional life drawing class to the fine art students, but she hadn’t seen him during her first few weeks at the college.

  A hush fell over the corridor when he halted in his tracks, turned around, and walked back to speak directly to Georgie.

  “Are you one of the life models?”

  His eyes narrowed, raking over her face and body in the most speculative way. A curious frown had darkened his expression. It only seemed to make him look even more downright gorgeous. Georgie just about managed to shake her head in response.

  “No, I’m a fashion design student.”

  “Would you be prepared to model for me?”

  Justine gasped and nudged Georgie who, gathering her senses, stepped away from her panting friend and offered him what she hoped was a confident smile.

  “Sure, I’ll give it a go, but I haven’t ever modeled before.”

  “That doesn’t matter -- in fact, it’s often better that way.” He reached into the inner pocket of his jacket and retrieved a business card, which he planted into her hand.

  “Give me a call tomorrow, and we’ll work something out.”

  “Yes, okay, I will. Thanks.”

  She tucked the card into the hip pocket of her jeans, a gesture that was followed by his ever-watchful eyes. He smiled, inclined his head, and then continued on his original path.

  When she rang him the following day, he had talked about modeling for the life class, but very soon it was obvious his motives were based on a desire to have her model for him privately, as well.

  “I’m game. But I have to ask, why me?”

  “Because your looks suit the theme I am working on.” His voice was like liquid heat running over her body.

  “Theme?”

  “The theme is sex.”

  “Oh ... I see.” She didn’t see.

  He gave a deep chuckle; it was mellow and inviting.

  “Still interested?”

  “Sure.” She swallowed nervously. What the hell am I letting myself in for?

  “You lucky cow,” Justine exclaimed when Georgie had related the conversation over a bottle of red wine, later that evening. They were in Justine’s kitchen, keeping well out of earshot of her eager teenage brother. The lad kept loitering around expectantly whenever the two women started giggling, straining to catch the conversation until Justine has blackmailed him with the loan of her new Lara Croft computer game for the evening.

  “Oh, I don’t think he meant anything ... literal.” Georgie was kind of hoping that she was wrong, though. Justine pouted at her, sulking. Georgie chuckled. She couldn’t help it. Justine was green with envy.

  “Admit it,” Justine demanded, shaking her tousled mop of blonde hair. “I bet you wouldn’t say no.”

  “No, I probably wouldn’t say no, given the opportunity.” Georgie tried to keep a straight face. “I’m just not assuming that he meant it that way.”

  “He’s a man isn’t he?”

  “And so is the Pope!”

  Justine laughed and topped up their glasses.

  “He said he’d pay me twenty quid an hour.”

  “In that case, the next bottle is on you.” Justine shook her head at her friend, laughing. “I would pay him for the chance.”

  “Coming from an impoverished student, that’s quite a statement.”

  “Too right. Hey, maybe he’s like that Italian geezer -- you know, the one that only painted the women’s eyes in if he’d shagged them,” Justine speculated.

  “Modigliani?”

  “That’s the guy.” She gestured with her glass. “You could just tell those poor eyeless women were gagging for it. The man must have been hung like an ox to have instilled such longing.”

  “Justine!” Georgie chastised mockingly.

  “Ha. You’ll be the one posing in front of him; how will you feel then? I just bet you’ll be wondering if he�
��ll be painting your eyes in or not!”

  “Do you ever think about anything else other than sex?” Georgie replied, in an effort to distract herself from the implications of being in front of those hawklike eyes, possibly for hours on end.

  “Not when there’s a man like Calvin around.”

  No Georgie had agreed, silently, and reached for her glass. It wasn’t going to be easy at all.

  * * * * *

  Calvin rested one hand on the edge of the easel; the other toyed with the new brush he was about to use, his gaze roving over his subject. She was perfect for the job -- shame he couldn’t keep his mind on it. He looked appreciatively at the peaks of her nipples, and lower, at the gentle swell of her belly. The taut line of her thighs led up to the soft dark fur covering her pubis. She was a very sexy lady. He wanted to experience that from the inside. He knew it was only a matter of time until he would. She was up for it, and his cock had been uncomfortably erect inside his jeans for some time, but Cal enjoyed that kind of anticipation. He also enjoyed seeing her squirming, wanting, and restless as a cat in heat. He could be very wicked about such things.

  He held the new brush in his hand, the thicket of bristles moving through his beard, absentmindedly. He walked closer, quietly, and stood over her, his arms folded across his chest, contemplating her body with determination.

  “Georgie?”

  Her eyes opened. She rolled over and looked up at him through the wave of black hair that swept over her shoulder.

  “I’m sorry. I must have dozed off.” She laughed and sat up. “What would you like me to do?”

  Cal stared at her upturned chin, her lips apart as she awaited his reply. Her cheekbones were wide and full, her eyes dark pools of suggestion, inviting him in to their liquid depths. She had the look of a harem woman, rich with sensuality. He was hungry for a taste of her.