Today we are thrilled to share with you an original scene from C.C. Gibbs. Four erotica authors from the Between the Sheets Tour created an original piece with the following criteria:

-At some point there must be 3 people in the scene
-Lace
-An ice cube
-A feather

ALL HE NEEDS by C.C. Gibbs (December 17, 2013; Forever Trade Paperback; $12.00)

Synopsis:

Brilliant. Wealthy. Powerful. Dominic Knight is one of the hottest tech developers in the world–and the most demanding lover Kate Hart has ever known. Whether in the boardroom or the bedroom, he is always in charge. But there is one thing he cannot control: Kate’s fiery heart…

As a master in her field, talented Kate surpassed Dominic’s wildest expectations. As a woman of uncommon intelligence and beauty, she unlocked something deep within him. Yet since their professional relationship–and erotically charged affair–came to an end, the fire in him has only grown stronger.

Now, the man who has everything will do whatever it takes to reclaim the woman he lost. From Boston and Paris to Singapore and San Francisco, he will lure Kate back into his elite world of privilege and passion. Together, they will test the limits of desire and the boundaries of discipline. For both, this is uncharted territory–naked, reckless, and uninhibited. But when Dominic’s deadliest enemies target Kate, he must face his darkest fears…and admit to himself that she is all he needs.

C.C. Gibbs’ Original Scene

Nicole was lost in the miles of burled tulipwood, polished brass and plush carpeted corridors of the mega-yacht.
Damn. Probably one drink too many. But the wait staff kept passing around trays of wine and cocktails, the Monaco sun was hot and Fiona, who’d brought her along today, kept saying, “It’s a party. What are you waiting for?”
So here she was in another posh corridor, looking for a bathroom and seeing nothing but closed doors.
What now? Just open doors until she got lucky–right?
Ooops.
Skidding to a stop at the sight of the couple on the sofa, she met the narrowed, amber-eyed gaze of her host.
“Sorry–I was…looking–for the loo,” Nicole stammered, feeling as though she was being stripped naked under that cool male inspection, wishing she was wearing something more substantial than a bikini. “I’m really sorry.” She began shutting the door.
“Wait.” He’d never seen such stunning, brilliant blue eyes—or body of such incredible grace. Dropping Silvie’s feathered toy behind the sofa, Rafe rolled off her and coming to his feet, zipped up his khaki shorts. “Use this one.” He motioned to a frosted glass door across the room.
Nicole hesitated. “You’re sure I’m not intruding?”
“Not at all.” Rafe grabbed his polo shirt. “Silvie was just leaving.”
“I was NOT!” The tawny-haired blonde punched Rafe’s leg.
His head and arms slid out of his white polo shirt, the fabric dropped over his ripped torso and Rafe murmured, “Emilio will be looking for you soon. That’s all I meant.” Then ignoring Silvie’s scowl, he reached down, pulled the black lace bikini top over her large breasts, slid the straps over her shoulders, stood and turned to Nicole. “Please, go on in. I’ll get us drinks. Any preferences?”
“I might have had enough.”
“You look fine.” Rafe’s golden gaze warmed. “Don’t worry about it.”
“Okay. Surprise me,” Nicole said, moving toward the bathroom.
There’s a plan. And he watched her with a breath-held wonder even he recognized as bizarre.
He didn’t remember her, Nicole thought. She and a group of undergrad chemistry majors had met him at a bio-tech conference in San Francisco two years ago. And Rafail Contini, head of R&D for his father’s pharma firm, was still gorgeous as ever: tall, super buff, starkly handsome, long, dark hair, with intense amber eyes. Magnetic, jungle cat eyes.
A shame Silvia Fermetti–trophy wife of the Italian ambassador to France, darling of all the gossip rags—wasn’t about to leave. As though to emphasize the point, when Nicole re-entered the stateroom, the voluptuous blonde seated beside Rafe at a small table gave her a if-looks-could-kill glare.
Immune to his partner’s displeasure, Rafe came to his feet. “See if you like this Novatini,” he said, handing her a martini glass. “Hendrick’s gin, white cranberry juice and half a lime, squeezed. You’re an American aren’t you?”
“Yes. San Francisco.”
“I know the city.” He pulled out a chair for her. “I spent a couple years at Stanford.”
Nicole glanced up as she sat. “Small world. I just graduated from Stanford.”
He grinned. “It must be karma.”
Conscious of Silvie’s murderous gaze, Nicole was noncommittal. “If you say so.”
“No doubt in my mind,” he said very softly, when he’d never actually believed in karma. Nor in the word, mesmerized, which described his reaction to this lithe lush beauty. Sitting down, he nodded. “You’ve been swimming.” Nicole’s long dark hair fell in damp ringlets. He smiled. “No one ever swims around here.”
“I do.”
“Often?”
“Every day.”
“Where are you staying?”
“God damn it, you shit! I’m right here!” Silvie spat. Grabbing her wine glass she was about to fling its contents at Rafe when the door abruptly opened.
“Ah, there you are, Silvie.” Emilio Fermetti, a tall, white-haired patrician stood on the threshold, his smile bland.
His wife set down her glass. “The sun was too hot on deck,” she said with a defiant little shrug.
“I agree. But we have to leave now, darling. Dinner with Shokov.” He turned to Rafe. “Thank you for your hospitality.”
“Anytime, Emilio. It’s always a pleasure.”
A small silence fell as the door closed on the Fermettis.
Nicole raised her brows slightly. “Girl friend?”
“Cute,” Rafe said. “No.”
“Ah.”
He didn’t respond to her insinuation, nor to her arched look. Instead, he slid down in his chair, lifted his gin and tonic to his mouth and surveyed her over the rim of his glass for a potent moment before he drained the drink. Fishing an ice cube out of the glass he held it up. “See this?” When she didn’t answer he said, “The length of time it takes for this to melt is about the extent of my interest in a woman.”
She grinned. “You really are an unmitigated shit.”
“You’re the exception to my rule,” he drawled, dropping the ice cube back in the glass. “Where are you staying?”
“At my uncle’s apartment.”
“Move in with me. I’ll kick out everyone else.”
“Everyone else?”
For some reason he didn’t mind her cheek. “Only friends. No women.” He smiled. “Until now. So how about it?”
“Just for the summer.”
Rafe grinned. “Sweet. Now don’t move.” He rose and strode toward the door. “I’m going to lock you in, then fuck you til morning.”
“And then?”
He turned and winked. “Then you can tell me your name.”

Author Bio:

C.C. Gibbs is the pen name of a New York Times bestselling author. She lives in the Midwest, at times in Northern California, is married with three children and considers the life of a writer the best of all possible worlds. Bringing characters to life allows her imagination full rein, while the creative process offers fascinating glimpses into the machinery of the mind. And last but not least, researching anything, but particularly a book like ALL HE DESIRES–thank you Google–is great fun!

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