We continue with excerpts from The Art of Desire by Cherie Feather, a new erotic romance from Berkley Heat. Keep reading for the book’s summary and part III of four excerpts. This is a seriously steamy series of excerpts, so read on only if you dare!

Summary:

Museum director Mandy Cooper is obsessed with nineteenth-century artist Catherine Burke-and the artist’s erotically charged relationship with Atacar, her enthralling American Indian lover. But Mandy’s link to the legendary couple runs deeper than she knows. She’s having a heated affair herself-with Jared Cabrillo, Atacar’s handsome great-great nephew who knows precisely what it takes to seduce a woman…

He’s in possession of Catherine’s explicit journal. He knows every intimate detail of what she wanted and needed. But he also knows how desperately Catherine had loved Atacar and how dangerously he’d loved her. The journal is timeless and tragic, and the secrets contained within its pages can bring Mandy and Jared together, or just as surely destroy them both-desire by shocking desire.

E-X-C-E-R-P-T

TWO

“Turkey with avocado and coleslaw on the side. Pink lemonade, lots of ice.”

Kiki Dion, the museum’s colorful historian, placed Mandy’s lunch on her desk. The other woman’s wavy red hair peeked out from beneath a geometric-printed-bandanna-style scarf, and freckles dusted her nose.

“Thanks. It’s been one of those days.”

“For me, too. We deserve a moment to rest our bones.”

The redhead sat across from her. She’d also gotten a sandwich, cramming in a quick lunch together.

“How’s the research going?” Mandy asked.

“I don’t have anything new to report, but not from the lack of trying. I’ll keep working on it.”

“I know you will.” The journal quest was still in its early stages. Mandy had worked at the museum for a little over a year, and Kiki had only been there for eight months, so it had taken some time for them to settle into their jobs before they’d made the journal a priority. But now that they had, they weren’t letting go.

The historian unwrapped her food. “So what’s up with you? Any more hot romps with Jared?”

“Not since the party.” Mandy wasn’t surprised by Kiki’s blatant question. She’d been confiding in the other woman about her affair.

They seemed like unlikely friends, but they weren’t.

Although Kiki was closer to Jared’s age than Mandy’s, they’d both survived mundane marriages, with ex-husbands who’d left them wanting more, not just sexually but emotionally. Not that Jared came anywhere near to fitting the emotional bill for Mandy. But she kept telling herself that wicked sex wasn’t supposed to be steeped in life-altering conversations and handholding walks.

Kiki glanced at the sofa and shot her a teasing grin. “I hope you had that cleaned.”

She smiled, too. “I did. Right away.” But the memory of him remained. She’d been focused on Jared all week, anxious for him to call, to tempt her into another be-bad-for-him encounter. “I spilled coffee on it the next day to cover my tracks.”

“Good thinking.” Kiki dived into a grilled roast beef and swiss, eating heartily, crumbs falling onto her napkin-draped lap. “Why don’t you ever call him?”

“I don’t know. Maybe I like waiting for him to get in touch with me.” Mandy removed a peppercinni from her sandwich and bit into it. The juice squirted into her mouth, the spicy hotness reminding her of her lover. “Maybe it’s part of my addiction. Part of the thrill.”

“He is exciting. Remember the first night you slept with him?”

“How could I ever forget?” Mandy had always been keenly aware of Jared’s reputation, but she rarely saw the art-celebrity bad boy out on the town. They didn’t run in the same circles. Then last month, she’d been seated next to him at a hotel ballroom charity dinner and sexual sparks flew. “I told him that I was half in love with Catherine and Atacar.”

“And he used that to seduce you.”

“Yes, he did. By the end of the night, he convinced me to check into a room with him.”

“You were the talk of the town. Atacar’s great-great nephew and the Women’s Museum director. People are still gossiping, wondering how a nice girl like you fell for a guy like him.” Kiki flashed another playful grin. “But I know the real scoop.”

“That he turned me into a Jared junkie?”

“Exactly.” Kiki paused. “Does he know you’re trying to find the journal? That you’re hoping to acquire it for the museum?”

Mandy nodded. “Yes, but he doesn’t think it exists.”

“He’s a non-believer?” Kiki sounded surprised.

“He tried to find it, too. A long time ago. But he never did, so he thinks it’s a lost cause.”

“Then I’ll do my darnedest to prove him wrong.”

The phone rang, and they quit talking, with Mandy taking the call. A few seconds later, she exhaled a quick breath and hung up.

“That was Gloria,” she said, referring to the curatorial division secretary. “She wanted to know if she should accept my flowers or have the delivery boy bring them directly to me.”

“Your flowers?”

Mandy struggled to keep her cool, to not make a fuss, even if her heart was heading toward a girlish patter. “Apparently someone sent me a bouquet.”

Kiki reacted openly, her voice boosting a notch. “Do you think it was Jared?”

“I doubt it. It doesn’t seem like something he would do. It’s probably work related.” Mandy reached into her bottom drawer for her purse, removing her wallet for some bills, preparing for the tip. “But I told Gloria that I’d take them. Just in case.”

They waited, Kiki perched on the edge of her chair, and Mandy standing near the door, lying to herself, insisting it didn’t matter who the flowers were from.

When the bouquet arrived, the women gazed at each other. A stunning spray of long stemmed, deep red roses in a sleek crimson vase. Maybe it was something Jared would do.

Mandy asked the delivery boy if he knew what kind of roses they were since they were so dark, and he said they were a hybrid tea called Black Magic.

After he left, she snagged the miniature envelope that accompanied the bouquet. But there wasn’t a traditional gift card inside. Instead, she discovered a business card of an adult store in Albuquerque. It was called Black Magic, too. She turned the card over. Jared had written a note for her to meet him there tomorrow at three o’clock.

“So?” Kiki asked. “Are they from him?”

“Yes.” She couldn’t think of anything to say except that one little word.

“Can I see?”

Mandy extended the Saturday-afternoon invitation, and the other woman studied both sides, her eyes going wide.

“He’s full of surprises, isn’t he?”

“Always.” Mandy wet her lips and tasted the lingering pepper juice. “I wonder what he’ll talk me into buying.”

“Something that will make you want him even more?” Kiki asked without expecting an answer. “Black Magic is right. That man is casting a spell on you.”

“I know.” Heaven, how she knew. Without thinking, she leaned in to inhale the roses’ sweet, light fragrance, to touch their bewitching petals.

Jared waited in the parking lot, leaning against his truck, a customized fifty-seven Chevy big block, Prussian blue with polished centerline wheels. It wasn’t his ranch vehicle. He drove it for fun.

Life was supposed to be fun, wasn’t it? Especially with Mandy. So here he was, keeping things light, telling himself not to feel guilty. He’d lied to Mandy from the start. He knew Catherine’s journal existed because he had it. He’d searched for years and then had uncovered the book unexpectantly. But that wasn’t something he could reveal. The journal was a secret he’d promised to keep.

He glanced up and saw that Mandy had arrived. She parked next to him and got out of her midsize sedan. He didn’t start a conversation. He let her do the talking. She was fifteen minutes late.

“I didn’t know what to wear to a place like this,” she said. “I changed three times.”

Was she kidding? He broke into a smile. “What you have on is fine.” Slim-fitting jeans, a blouse that shimmered in the sun, jeweled sandals. She’d painted her fingernails red for the occasion. Her toe nails, too. Normally she wore pink polish.

“I hope I don’t see someone I know.”

He tapped her chin. Her face was shaped like a heart, with a cute little point at the end. “If you see someone you know, you’ll both pretend it never happened. You won’t discuss it at the next stuffy fundraiser.”

“The last one wasn’t stuffy. You were there.”

He knew she was referring to the night their affair had begun. The charity dinner had been for a Native American cause, so Jared had bought a ticket and paid an astronomical price for his meal, hoping to do his part. He hadn’t intended to get sidetracked by the museum director whose job included keeping his ancestor’s portrait in her care. Her interest in Catherine and Atacar should have kept him away. But it had intrigued him instead.

He reached for her hand and led her toward the sex shop. She stalled for a moment, studying the shaded windows and shiny black door. Her urged her forward. Black Magic wasn’t a dungeon, even if it seemed dark and cavernous from the outside.

He escorted her into the building, and she made a pleasant sound.

“It smells good in here,” she said. “Like cinnamon.”

He didn’t comment, but he’d heard that cinnamon produced heat within the body, increasing physical and sexual appetites.

The store was big and well lit with an array of toys, BDSM gear, fetish clothes, lubes, lotions, books and DVDs.

Sensual accoutrements, he thought. For all types. A group of young women who appeared to be planning a bachelorette party were waving rainbow dongs at each other and giggling about wedding colors.

Mandy glanced at Jared, and they both laughed. “Are you still nervous about seeing someone you know?” he asked.

“Not anymore.” She walked over to a female-friendly display, a glass table showcasing massage oils and bath products.

“Try this.” He reached for a tester on another display and pumped clear liquid onto her hands.

She rubbed her palms together, as if she were analyzing a department-store moisturizer. “That’s nice. Silky.” She spread the lingering wetness over the backs of her hands. “It’s not drying very well, though.”

He bent forward to whisper in her ear. “It’s a silicone lube. For the toy I’m going to buy for you. To make it nice and slick.”

She caught her blunder and grabbed a hold of his shirt, a basic white T, keeping her body close to his. Their pelvises would’ve bumped if they’d been the same height, but he was taller.

“Are you getting a toy, too?” she asked.

“No.” They separated, and he led her to the dildo section. The giggling girls were gone. He gestured to a wall of rubber phalluses. “Check them out. Touch them.”

She blinked at him. “Are one of these going to be my toy?”

“No. But I want you to touch them anyway.”

She stepped forward and examined the samples, weighing them in her hands, running her fingers along their sculpted shapes.

Jared stood back and watched. He’d created this game for her, and he thrived on every inch of it. “Do you like the realistic ones?”

“Yes. Like this.” She fondled a model equipped with a thickly veined shaft, hefty balls and a bulging head.

“Good. Because you’re going to make one of me. When I’m big and hard.”

She looked up. By now her cheeks were flushed, giving her a warm glow. “Make one?”

He led her to another shelf, where he showed her a dildo making kit. Her cheeks turned pinker.

“It’ll include anatomical details,” he said, enjoying her reaction, the shyness that made seducing her exciting. “Veins, ridges, balls. Just like the one you said you liked.”

“Only it’ll be an exact replica of you.” She picked up the kit. The box depicted a picture of an erect penis. “I can use it when I’m alone.”

“Not the first time. You’re going to use it when you’re with me. I want to watch you slide it between your legs. In your bedroom, with the lights turned low and candles burning.”

She clutched the box, pressing the cardboard against her chest. The good girl. The want-to-be-bad girl. “That sounds romantic. Sort of,” she added softly.

Jared didn’t respond. Sort of romantic was the best he could do. In the silence, they gazed at each other. Was she imagining him in her bedroom, instructing her how wide to spread her thighs, how deeply to insert her homemade toy? A copy of his cock. He knew it made him seem arrogant, but he didn’t want her to use a device that was fashioned after another man. He wanted to be her lover in every way.

“Will you do this for me?” he asked. “Will you use it and let me watch?”

“Yes.” The word came out in a sensual rush. “But we have to pierce it. It won’t feel like you if it doesn’t have your PA.”

Damn, she was sweet. Multiorgasmic Mandy. “We can use one of my barbells.” He would be sure to go home and get one before they went to her place to make the mold.

“What about the candles?” She glanced around. “Can we get them here?”

“Sure. But the only kind they sell are shaped like body parts. Or full nudes. Like statues of people.”

“I think I’d like to get some of those.”

“Okay.” He knew what area of the store they were in, so he pointed the way.

She chose two white candles, one shaped like a man, the other molded as a woman. She went for a red candle, too, where a couple was together in a kama sutra position called Flower in Bloom.

“This is beautiful,” she said.

It was, he thought, wondering how it would look with a flame burning at the tip, making the lovers melt into each other.

She glided the wax creation under his nose. “It’s scented.”

He caught a fragile whiff of roses, like the bouquet he’d sent. Suddenly he worried about losing her, about their affair ending before he was ready to let her go.

“Don’t ever say no to me,” he said. “Don’t ever not be there when I need you.”

“I won’t,” she responded. “I swear I won’t.”

#

 

A naked man in her bathroom, Mandy thought. Tall and dark and waiting for her to make him hard.

She’d already read the directions on the kit and mixed the molding powder with water. The specially designed container was ready. But Jared wasn’t. He’d asked her to do the honor.

He sat on the closed lid of the commode and opened his thighs. He was so unabashed, so comfortable with his nudity. And why not? Between his gym routine and endless hours on horseback, he had the body of a modern-day god.

Mandy knelt on the contour rug at his feet. Her bathroom was decorated in dusty blue and sea-foam green, with a clear white shower curtain. She lived in a one-bedroom condo in a fast-growing urban area.

Jared skimmed her hair away from her face, and she darted out her tongue. He’d removed his piercing, so the cast would be smooth.

“That’s my girl,” he said.

She smiled against his growing erection. One lick and he was half hard. He leaned back against the commode and widened his legs.

She gripped the base of his shaft and lowered her mouth, stroking and sucking at the same time. He smoothed her hair again, keeping it from falling forward, from obstructing his view.

His testes were drawn tight. She cupped the tender sacs, and he pushed deeper into her mouth. He was cheating, she thought. By now he was hard enough for the negative mold. He just wanted to get sucked some more.

Mandy gave him what he wanted until he groaned and told her to stop.

Before he inserted his cock and balls into the container, she dabbed a little petroleum jelly onto his pubic hair to be sure the molding material didn’t grab any of it.

Sixty seconds later, the negative casting portion was done. The next step was pouring the liquid rubber into the container.

“It’ll take hours to set,” she said. “It won’t be done until later tonight.”

“Then we’ll hang out together and wait.” He reached for a washcloth and dampened it with soap and warm water, cleaning himself, getting rid of the petroleum. He slid his piercing back in, too.

They both stood beside the sink, their reflections in the vanity mirror. She wanted to spend the evening with him, to have dinner, to sit on the patio and watch the sun go down. But she wasn’t fooling herself into believing that they were headed toward an emotionally committed relationship. Earlier when he asked her to never say no to him, to be there when he needed her, she was well aware that he meant sexually.

He tossed the washcloth into the hamper, and she glanced at his cock. He was still half hard, hungry for more attention. Apparently she’d left a lasting impression.

“Do you want me to finish what I started?” she asked.

Jared looked down, then back up at her. “Is that a rhetorical question?”

Mandy smiled. “I think maybe it was.”

She guided him back to the commode. The moment she knelt at his feet, he sat down and assumed the fellatio position, spreading his thighs the way he’d done before.

She stroked and sucked, and he went back to playing with her hair, running his fingers through it, keeping it away from her face so he could watch.

“You’re getting good at this,” he said.

Enjoying his praise, she relaxed her throat and took him as deeply as she could, the way he’d made her do at the museum.

Although he tasted clean and sexy, he tasted salty, too. Semen was already beading at the tip.

He scooted to the edge of the commode lid, getting as close to her as possible. His breathing hitched, his legs went taut. His stomach tightened, too.

He thrust forward, fucking her mouth. She couldn’t think of another way to say it, not with the way he was moving in and out.

When he bucked his hips, she felt the pressure of his oncoming orgasm. He spilled into her, and she swallowed every drop.

Afterward, she returned to the sink to sip some water, and he came up behind her. Once again, they were standing in front of the mirror. He didn’t say anything. Instead, he put his arms around her, then unzipped her jeans and wedged his hand between the denim and her skin.

Instantly aroused, she exhaled a quick breath, and he worked his way into her panties.

“Do you know what I was fantasizing about when you were sucking me?” he asked.

She pressed against his fingers. By now, he’d found her clit.

“What you’re going to do to yourself later,” he said, answering his own question. “I can’t wait for the damn thing to set so I can watch you use it.”

She shivered against his touch. She was getting slick and wet. “You were watching me go down on you, too.”

“Can you blame me?” He grazed the side of her neck with his teeth. “You’re my bad girl.”

She had an insane urge to ask him to give her a hickey, to brand her in a visible way. But she wasn’t a smitten teenager letting her high school boyfriend get to second base. He’d already been to third and back. He’d scored at least a dozen homeruns.

He trapped her gaze in the mirror. “I want a key to your condo. Will you give me one?”

“Yes.” The tension between her thighs got thicker. He thrust two fingers inside of her, banging her in that dirty boy way of his.

“Do you know why I want it?”

“To come over in the middle of the night when I’m asleep. To kiss me. To climb on top of me.” But not to cuddle, she thought. He never did that.

“That’s right. Spontaneous sex. I can’t get enough of it with you.”

“Me, neither. With you.” She angled her hips to give him better access, to show him how wet she was. She was more than willing to let him steal into her bedroom at whatever ungodly hour he chose, to give her a fix, to feed her addiction.

Losing control, she climaxed, staring at her haunted image in the glass. All she wanted was Jared. Just him. Her lover. All the time.

The way Catherine had probably wanted Atacar.

Mandy pitched forward against the sink and closed her eyes. She didn’t want to think about Jared’s great-great uncle or the woman who was rumored to love him.

Not now. Not while Jared was standing behind her, with his hand still wedged in her pants, working her into another frenzy.

And making her come again.