Taming His Tutor

By: Natalie Anderson

Chapter One

“The ‘vixen’ is irresistible to men. Full of allure, culture, mystery, she’s utterly magnetic. With some practice you can be—”

Oblivious to the people on the sidewalk beside her, Abbi Hayes touched the forward arrow on her cell. She had the definitions down already; she wanted the sexual nitty-gritty—what moves she needed to make a man’s eyes squeeze tight as he shouted with pleasure, all control abandoned as a cataclysmic orgasm shafted through him. How she could be the best he’d ever had…

Okay, it wasn’t her ultimate ambition in life, but it was the one currently dominating her thoughts, because being dumped hurt. Especially over something as personal as sexual performance. Her ex Scott had awarded her the “Most Boring in Bed” title as his parting gift. She told herself he was just being a jerk, but the doubts had niggled. And then the veracity of his words had been proven by her first post-breakup one-night stand. Her only one-night stand. Disaster was too mild a word for that encounter.

Abbi hated performing poorly in any aspect of her life, but this?

So private. So crushing.

But she was on it. As with any other area in her life, her tried and tested formula for improvement was to research extensively, then put together and present her counterargument. She refused to fail again. Never again.

Except beneath her fighting talk, fear curdled. How exactly was she going to magic up some kind of inner sexual power? Like, really?

Research, that was the way.

And right now, Sasha Fox, X-rated silver-screen icon and author of the best-selling e-book Foxy Files, was on hand, or rather in Abbi’s ear, instructing her in some of the more risqué skills she wanted to acquire.

Abbi upped the volume as she walked the last few minutes from the cable car to her office.

“Discovering his most erogenous zones. These are his nine instant-response hot spots. Touch him in any of these places and I guarantee he’ll—”

This was more like it. Abbi picked up her pace, fitting in a quick tightening of her pelvic floor muscles as she started to cross the road with barely a glance either way. She wanted to learn at least one useful maneuver before spending the day on the IT upgrade—though her boss wouldn’t mind her keeping the audiobook on as it was a Saturday. The vixen research had a double-pronged purpose anyway. Personal up-skilling aside, she was building a value-added app for Gloss, the women’s lifestyle magazine she was IT manager for. It had to be ready for the magazine’s big third birthday bash just under a fortnight away. The app was slated to be a key giveaway at the A-list-only event. Ironic, given those A-listers were hardly going to be in need of the advice, but Abbi hoped her app would go beyond being a party favor. Once available for download, it’d be a click-by-click guide for the shy, single girl on how to get her guy—enabling even the most awkward woman to garner some positive male attention. Not just sex tips, but dress tips, self-confidence tips, exercise tips…

But sure, it was the sex tips Abbi was working on first.

As Ms. Fox explained the sensitive areas on a man’s neck, Abbi pondered a catchy app name the marketing bods would love—“Vixenator” wasn’t it.

Entice? Ensnare? Ensla—

A sudden blaring sound drowned out the sex star’s sultry tones, and in the same second someone seized Abbi’s upper arm—hard. In a heartbeat she was hauled the last few paces over the road. Gasping, she tried to run, but hell—were her feet actually touching the ground?

“Hey!” Startled, Abbi squeaked as she bumped hard against one very large, immovable object. She stumbled up onto the sidewalk, regaining balance. One earbud fell as she quickly twisted to pull her arm free from that large, strong grip. “What are—”

“Honey, you’re gonna land your sweet ass in a whole lotta trouble if you don’t start paying attention to your surroundings.”

Land her what in—what?

Abbi stared up at the guy who’d called her out. Stunned, breathless, she lost brainpower the second her gaze locked on his. It didn’t help that in the microsecond it took to look all the way up to his eyes, she absorbed his astounding particulars. Ultra-tall, ultra-broad shoulders, ultra-gorgeous…the man had “superathlete” stamped all over him. He’d just single-handedly, literally, yanked her three meters and wasn’t batting an eyelid…

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