Lady Be Good

by Susan Elizabeth Phillips

  She laughed. Obviously, he didn’t know Dexter nearly as well as he thought. She wondered how he was going to react when he figured out that his sister, despite her protests, was attracted to the “nerd.” For that matter, she wondered what Torie would do.

  Emma considered the irony of knowing that Dexter was exactly the kind of man she’d always wanted to fall in love with, but not once today had she caught herself fantasizing about how he’d look naked. He’d been a marvelous guide, a great conversationalist, and they’d had a wonderful time, but she hadn’t looked at his lips and imagined what they’d feel like touching her own.

  She tore her eyes away from Kenny’s lips. “So you’re saying you’ve changed your mind?”

  “I have to, don’t I?”

  His air of self-sacrifice got her hackles up. “Don’t put yourself out.”

  “You didn’t answer my question. Do you want to swim first, or just go right to that shower?”

  “Forgive me for not being overwhelmed by your intensely romantic offer.”

  “Not interested, huh?”

  “Not a bit.”

  He took a slow step forward. “Does this mean you aren’t attracted to me?”

  “Sorry.” She noticed her panties on the floor, snatched them up, and thrust them into the pocket of her robe.

  He sighed. “All right, then. I guess I’m a big enough man to handle honest rejection. It is honest, isn’t it?”

  “Of course it’s honest.”

  “I’m not doubting your word or anything . . .” He came toward her in a lazy, sensuous movement that reminded her of oil sliding over water. “But just to be sure . . .” His slacks brushed her robe as he stopped in front of her.

  “Kenny . . .”

  He smothered her protest with his kiss.

  She wouldn’t do it! She wasn’t going to give in to this blatant power struggle he’d mistaken for seduction.

  And then his tongue glided over the seam of her lips, leaving heat in its path.

  Her annoyance began to fade as he took his time, not rushing her but content to dabble. Oh, but there was something splendid about being kissed by a lazy man.

  Her spine bumped the bedpost at the same time that his hips flattened against her own. He was already aroused. Huge. His body’s response entranced her, and she deepened the kiss.

  His hand flattened against the base of her throat, ready to dip lower and cup her breast. She arched toward him, craving his touch, but he played in her mouth instead, dallying here and there in intimate tongue play that went on until only the bedpost and his body were holding her upright.

  Her breasts ached for his hands, but he still hadn’t touched them. She rubbed against his chest to urge him on, letting the silk of her robe and the fabric of his shirt abrade her nipples. He didn’t take the hint.

  No longer so content with his laziness, she dropped her hands to his hips and cupped his buttocks. They were as hard as the rest of him, so different from her own body, which was plump and pliant.

  Their kiss went wild. She loved it—loved kissing him—had never imagined kissing could be like this. But she wanted more, and she pushed her hand between their bodies to open the knot of her robe.

  He drew her down to the bed without missing a beat. But instead of going on from there, he kept kissing her.

  She throbbed. She purred. She moaned her need into his mouth. “Kenny . . . please . . .”

  He moved his lips to the tender spot just beneath her ear and dabbled there for a while. Her skin prickled, her toes curled. She realized she might very well melt all over the bedspread before he got to the good part. Lower!

  Oh, why wouldn’t he hurry? Obviously, he needed a little prodding on her part, so she mustered her concentration and reached between them for the snap on his slacks.

  He immediately rolled over on top of her and used his mouth to investigate the throbbing pulse at the base of her throat.

  Her breasts! Why wouldn’t he touch her breasts? She wanted to plead with him, then realized she was too weak to speak.

  He found an unbelievably sensitive spot on her collarbone, and she moaned against the top of his head. His hand moved lower. Finally!

  But her relief was short-lived as his thumb slipped beneath the sleeve of her robe, only to stop and dawdle at her wrist. Her wrist! It was maddening! He was supposed to be an experienced lover, but he didn’t seem to have even the vaguest notion how to find the sensitive parts of the female anatomy.

  The skin along the underside of her arm quivered at his stroking, and tiny shock waves shot through her middle. But instead of taking advantage of her all-too-obvious arousal, he kept dawdling! How could she overcome his natural laziness? How could she point him in the proper direction?

  She would simply have to be more forthright.

  Chapter 13

  “Kenny . . .” Emma’s blurred senses made it difficult to talk, but she concentrated on forming the words because honest communication between sex partners was vitally important, and he had to understand that she had needs!

  “My robe . . .” She swallowed. “Take it off. Pull it off my . . .”

  The tip of his tongue discovered a pulse point at the side of her neck, and she groaned. Long moments ticked by before she could once again collect her thoughts.

  “No . . . not just there.” She moaned. “Touch me . . . my . . . Take off your clothes and touch my . . .”

  He drew back and frowned at her. His mouth was as swollen as her own, and his passion-silvered eyes reminded her of sugar-glazed violets. “Is something wrong?”

  She cupped his jaw, caught her breath, and smiled so he’d understand she wasn’t criticizing, merely providing some much-needed direction. “Could we move it along a bit?”

  “Move . . . it . . . along?” Each word came out like a bullet.

  “Uhm.”

  “You want to move . . . it . . . along?”

  “If you don’t mind.”

  “Are you in a hurry or something?”

  “Something.”

  “Don’t tell me you’ve got a shed-yule for this, too?”

  “Not a schedule. No, of course not. It’s just that I’m . . . well . . . I’m sure you’ll be pleased to know that I’m thoroughly aroused, and I believe we can move on to—well, to the next part. The good part.”

  He arched one eyebrow. “This part isn’t good?”

  She realized she’d offended, and she hurried to appease him. “Of course it’s good. It’s wonderful. Really, Kenny, you’re the most extraordinary kisser, but you’re a little slow and . . .” His expression was beginning to grow ominous. “I’m having a super time. Truly. But we’re done with that part now.” Her voice grew smaller. “Aren’t we?”

  He rolled over onto his back and muttered, “I should have expected this. I don’t know why I’m even surprised.”

  To her dismay, he pushed himself off the bed, only to stand right next to it pointing one finger in the general direction of her face. “Now you listen to me, Emma, because I’m only going to say this once. From now until both of us are wrung dry, I’m in charge. Do you hear me?”

  “But—”

  “And do you know why? Because I’m the expert, not you!”

  Rebellion stirred in her heart. “I never said I was.”

  “Then why are you giving orders?” He asked with exaggerated patience.

  “I merely thought—”

  “No more thinking!” His jaw set in a stubborn line, and he rested the heel of his hand against the bedpost. “Now, here’s the way it’ll be. The two of us are going to practice a little sexual kinkiness called domination and submission. I’m dominating and you’re submitting! Now, what that means, in case I’m not being clear, is that you can’t issue a single order. Not one. You can moan. Moaning’s fine. You can sigh. Sighing’s okay, too. But no orders. And only when I say we’re done can you talk. Then, just two words. Thank and you.”

  She should have been insulted—she was insulted—but
at the same time, an urge to laugh had come over her. He was so blissfully arrogant. And he was also right. Sometimes she was too bossy.

  He continued to scowl. “Now, have I made myself clear, or do I need to find that clothesline you picked up at the drugstore last night?”

  Just to be saucy, she waved one lazy hand toward the corner of the room where she’d set down the sack containing her purchases.

  His eyes narrowed.

  She regarded him primly. “I might as well get some use out of what I bought, and I’m certainly not going to need that moisturizer.”

  “Damned right you’re not.”

  Just as she was beginning to feel a bit smug for not crumbling in the face of his chest-pounding, he alarmed her by calling her bluff. As he headed for the corner of the room where she’d left the sack, she shot up in bed. “Kenny, I was teasing! About the clothesline.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “I really don’t think I could tolerate being—being tied up.”

  “Later. After you’ve had more experience.”

  He turned and she saw that he held two boxes of condoms in his hand. His expression dared her to question him as he came toward her, then set them side by side on the bedside table with two hard thuds.

  She swallowed.

  An ominous glint shone in his eyes. “Did you have something to say?”

  She shook her head. While she was theoretically opposed to any sort of male domination, in this case it was definitely arousing.

  “Good.” He kicked off his shoes, then raked her body from head to toe with a gaze she could only interpret as smoldering. “Now, where was I? You’ve gotten me so darned upset, I forgot what I was doing.” He sat on the edge of the bed and began toying with the hem of her robe while he thought it over. His fingers brushed her ankle, then slowly slid the hem upward until he came to her knee.

  She caught her breath and realized he’d gotten the point after all.

  He made a leisurely circle in the soft skin behind her knee, then another, then a slow figure eight with the very tip of his fingernail, then a comma.

  Oh, my . . . She let her knees separate, silently encouraging him to go on with his tactile hieroglyphics by giving him a larger writing surface.

  Abruptly, he withdrew and sighed. “This isn’t where I was. I know how much you like everything in order, so I guess I’d better start all over again.”

  She whimpered. She couldn’t help it.

  The corners of his mouth curled with satisfaction.

  And then he started all over. . . . More deep, lazy kisses; slow strokes with his tongue; feather touches on pulse points she hadn’t known she possessed. Even her awful tattoo wasn’t spared his attentions.

  It felt as if decades passed before he finally nudged her robe open and touched the very tip of one nipple with the point of his tongue. His chest heaved and his shirt was damp beneath her hands, but he still hadn’t undressed. She heard his hot breath, felt his fragile hold on self-control, wondered when he would break. Hoped . . .

  He dabbled with his tongue at the needy peak. Her head thrashed to the side and her body arched on the bed. She was dewy and wet, silken and throbbing. She wanted more. Her thoughts were disembodied as she clung to the edges of an enormous cataclysm.

  His mouth settled around the hard pebble of her nipple. Sucked hard. Twice. Three times. More.

  With a cry, she dissolved.

  He stiffened. Drew her into his arms. Held her against his chest until she stopped trembling.

  Gently, he lay her back on the pillow and brushed away a lock of hair that had fallen over her face. “Did you just come?” he whispered.

  She gulped. Nodded. Tears sprang to her eyes. “I tried to tell you, but you wouldn’t pay attention!”

  Instead of being properly chastised, his mouth curved in a smile that was filled with pleasure. “My sweet Lady E. You are really something special.”

  “I hope you’re satisfied,” she mumbled, no longer quite so upset.

  “Not yet.”

  Without any warning, he pushed away the front of her robe and slid his hand between her parted thighs. She gasped as he opened the swollen folds, then gently inserted one finger deeply inside her.

  “Not yet,” he whispered again.

  Her breath caught on a tiny hiss. Watching her intently, he slid his finger out, then back in. Dimly, she saw how flushed he was, noted the cords of strain at the side of his neck. Felt the clenching deep inside.

  She gave a strangled scream and convulsed.

  Once more he held her, then drew her to his chest and brushed her cheek with his lips. “I must be the luckiest man in the world.”

  As she caught her breath, he rose to shed his clothes, and by the time she found her voice again, he was naked. Lord, but he was beautiful, every part of him taut flesh and steely muscle. She dropped her gaze. Every single part of him.

  She rose and sank back on her heels. He moved closer to her. She leaned forward, tilted her head, and licked his belly.

  This time he was the one who groaned. She took a tender nip at the hard muscle that ran in a diagonal across one side of his abdomen, let her fingers trail up his inner thigh, nuzzled into a hollow by his groin. She was ready to play all day.

  His strangled words let her know that wouldn’t happen. “Tell me I’m not going to have to tie you down.”

  She hesitated only for a moment before she lay back, raised her arms until her hands touched the headboard, and smiled. “No need.”

  She couldn’t imagine why she trusted him so much or why she was willing to put up with his ridiculous rules. She only knew that she felt safe. Safe and—despite two orgasms—unbelievably aroused.

  He sat on the bed, covered her knees with the palms of his hands, and pushed them apart. Then he knelt between them and looked down at her, open and glistening, swollen. “You’re so beautiful,” he said.

  As he observed her, she drank in the sight of his body. Now, that was beauty. Marble and steel. She yearned to touch him—had to touch—reached out her hand.

  He shook his head. “Not this time, baby. Please. I only have so much self-control. And this has to be perfect for you.” He pulled off her robe and renewed his sensual dallying.

  Deep, lazy touches.

  The tip of a finger. A dabble.

  Nibble. Nibble. Nibble. Nibble. Nibble.

  And then . . . A long sloooow lapppp . . . with his tongue.

  It was too much!

  He smiled as she cried out again. “The luckiest man in the world,” he repeated.

  He snatched up the box on the bedside table and was soon settled over her, nipping at her kiss-swollen bottom lip and beginning to ease inside her.

  Despite everything, it didn’t happen comfortably.

  “Take it slow, sweetheart.”

  Glorying in the press of his weight upon her, she clung to his damp shoulders and arched her hips.

  He groaned. “Please . . . baby . . . don’t try to take charge now.”

  “It’s—I need . . .”

  “I know. I know.”

  She only had part of him. She wanted more.

  “Easy . . . easy . . .” He crooned to her or himself, she didn’t know which. Didn’t care. Only knew that she was flying higher and higher. . . . She sobbed as she split apart.

  And then she had him all, and it wasn’t over, but just beginning.

  Deep heavy thrusts. Violet eyes darkened to midnight. Hands pinioning hers to the pillow. Weight upon her. Inside her. Stretching. Pumping. The feel and scent of this man.

  Another climb. Another spiral. Years . . . decades . . . aeons . . .

  Thick hot rush.

  And . . . much later . . . return.

  Thank. You.

  Emma came out of the bathroom in her robe with her skin still damp from the shower. She winced as she moved a bit too quickly toward the dresser to fetch her underwear. Kenny squinted against the morning light and grinned from her sadly rumpled bed. “I told you
that last time was too much, but would you listen? No, you wouldn’t. You always think you know best.”

  She tried to calculate how many of those blissfully explosive orgasms she’d experienced during the night, but she’d lost track. “I couldn’t help it. I was crazed.”

  “Yeah?”

  “You were, too, so you don’t have to look so pleased with yourself.”

  “I sure was. I finally got all that energy of yours channeled in the right direction.”

  He pushed back the sheet and stepped out, oblivious to the fact that he was naked. As she withdrew a set of frilly underwear from the drawer, she watched the morning light play across the slopes and planes of his body. His crisp, dark hair was mussed, and she spotted a red mark on his back, as well as the beginnings of a bruise on the side of his neck. She rather liked the fact that she’d put those messy marks on such extravagant male gorgeousness.

  He began retrieving his clothes from the floor. “Shelby called while you were in the bathroom. She’s got a meeting, and Luisa has a doctor’s appointment, so she asked me to take Petie for a few hours later on this morning. I know I told you the day was yours, but do you mind putting off going back to Austin until this afternoon?”

  “Not at all.”

  “I’d like to hit the driving range first. Maybe you can read or something while I practice. Can you be ready in half an hour?”

  When she nodded, he draped his clothes over his arm and, still naked, left her bedroom.

  Seconds later, Patrick shrieked in the hallway. “Warn me next time, will you, Kenneth? I don’t have my smelling salts.”

  Kenny laughed and then she heard the sound of his door closing.

  She sighed as she walked over to the closet. It would have been nice if he’d kissed her before he’d left.

  He really was an exceptional kisser. And a wonderful lover. Considerate, unselfish, thrillingly kinky, and so beautiful naked that she wanted to cry. As a matter of fact, she thought she just might. But not because he was beautiful naked.