Operation Sizzle

by Darcy Lundeen

  Clutching at the front of his shirt, she hung on for dear life as his mouth turned hers into a three-course meal, and his massaging hand made her thighs vibrate with excitement. Oh, Lord. The man really had his sexual technique down to a science, a wonderful science. Rob must be having a rollicking good time in bed with him.

  “Hold on,” he whispered against her lips in a husky voice. Then his arms tightened around her, and he picked her up, capturing her mouth again.

  Betsy returned the compliment, snuggling flush against him as he carried her across the room. Her arms clung, unwilling to let him go. Her mouth clung, too, similarly loath to relinquish the delicious hold it had, so she couldn’t tell exactly where they were going. But it seemed to be in the general direction of her bedroom.

  Not that it mattered. If the rest of this introductory lesson went the way he did the kissing and butt-massaging part, he could carry her anywhere he wanted.

  Chapter Seven

  Matt’s brain swam with a dizzying wash of lust as he elbowed the door open and carried her into the darkened room. Soft and curvy. Those were the only two words his mind could think of to describe her. And emanating from all those soft curves, the delicious scent of something flowery assailed his senses in the most intoxicating way. God, if he could bottle that feel and that scent and offer it for sale, he’d be the world’s first trillionaire.

  He was still dessert-kissing her and loving every minute of it. Her mouth tasted of wine and chocolate brownie—a little tart, a little sweet, and definitely one of the most luscious combinations he’d ever savored. She clutched at his shirt as he walked to the bed and laid her gently on the quilt. Then their mouths slowly drifted apart. Not that he wanted to lose the kiss, but he had to get on with the lesson before his throbbing penis drove him crazy.

  Sitting beside her, he mentally congratulated himself on his control so far, and on his unexpected skill. In his opinion, he was doing pretty good for a first-time sex instructor. At least Betsy’s reaction seemed to indicate their lesson was going well. All right, better than well. Head-banging, hormone-shattering, gangbusters. His own reaction indicated it, too. He was growing rock-hard, and if he wasn’t careful, he’d be inside of her like a rutting stag, taking his own pleasure and leaving her disappointed and dissatisfied.

  Stroking his hand across her cheek, he told himself it wasn’t going to happen that way. She wanted a sex lesson. Fine. He’d give her one that showed her how to do it right. Or as right as he could make it.

  “See? Sofa to bed, vertical to horizontal.”

  Betsy nodded and shifted on the quilt. “I’m definitely in bed and horizontal.”

  In spite of the way she’d joined in their kiss, a sudden thread of nervousness entered her voice, telling him the next part would be harder to navigate than a simple lip-lock. “All right, now we have to remove all encumbrances.”

  The nervousness in her voice ratcheted up a notch as she stammered, “Umm, you mean clothes?”

  “I mean clothes.” Working slowly, he gently pulled off her running shoes and tossed them on the floor. Then reaching for the hem of her bulky sweater, he tugged upward to relieve her of that piece of unnecessary clothing, too. She obediently lifted up to help him, but he still felt a wary reluctance in her body as he freed her of the sweater and sent it flying toward a chair halfway across the room.

  Her reluctance escalated when his fingers dipped beneath the elasticized waistband of her sweatpants and eased them south. This time, she didn’t try to help. She just lay there stiff as a board, looking up at him.

  With a sigh, Matt bent over her, morphing back into sex-teacher mode. “No clothes.” He deliberately kept his voice quiet and non-threatening. “Not for a first lesson.”

  She was still for a moment, then nodded, relaxing a little as he eased the pants down her legs and sent them flying off to join her sweater.

  Matt bit his lip to keep from grinning at what she still had on—a bra that looked as if it would fall apart if you sneezed at it and panties that weren’t much bigger than a handkerchief. A couple of fragile snaps to open, a few ounces of lacy fabric to dispose of.

  He kept his movements calm, his hands gentle, as he pulled her upright and wrapped his arms around her, unsnapping the bra, then flinging it aside. Her panties followed, even though for a minute he had to fight them past the knees she’d anxiously locked together to keep him from divesting her of that last piece of protective clothing. But, finally, it was gone, and she lay naked before him.

  He couldn’t see her body clearly. Not in the semi-darkened room. But what he could make out looked ripe and luscious, and again he had to warn his much-too-eager hormones not to overheat and destroy the mood by climaxing before his pants were even off.

  But as his gaze feasted on her, he felt fairly sure of one thing. He was on his way to orgasmic heaven. And with any luck, Betsy Kincaid would happily join him there.

  ****

  She was naked. Naked with a man she barely knew. No clothes for a first lesson, he had said. And now…oh God…she had no clothes.

  No clothes, and a man she barely knew staring at her. Granted, the room was fairly dark, but he could probably still make out some of her imperfections. Like her hips. They were a little big for someone her height. And her breasts. No way were they as full as she wanted them to be. And her legs. They were really sort of short.

  The mattress shifted as he kicked off his shoes and swung his feet from the floor, pulling himself onto the bed beside her.

  She grasped at the sheet and tensed her muscles to keep from rolling into him. But the heat of his body still radiated against her skin, both enticing and unnerving. “Matt.” She bit her lip and grasped harder at the sheet, her palms sweaty, breathing erratic as a flood of anxiety began to crowd out lust.

  “Hmm?” He moved closer and propped himself up on his hip so that he loomed over her, looking big, strong, and much too tempting in the half light.

  Betsy swallowed hard. “Maybe we should just forget this because—”

  He slid his hand up along her waist, and she broke off and bucked against him as he covered her breast with his palm, sparking a new surge of lust inside of her. Then he began to trace a slow circle around her nipple, and she squirmed beneath him as the sensations generated by his stroking fingers radiated all the way down to her groin.

  “When you have sex, you explore your partner.” He moved his massaging hand to her other breast and did the same stroking, finger-encircling thing on that nipple.

  Betsy nodded. Okay, that sounded about right. She was being explored.

  He stopped encircling her nipple and skimmed across the tip, which was already standing at attention—hard, tight, and as ready for a friendly sexual workout as it had ever been. She tensed as he switched breasts and made flesh-to-flesh, stroking contact with that nipple, too. Pressing her head back against the pillow, she bit her lip to keep from moaning, then moaned anyway, because those agile fingers of his were torturing her in the boldest, most sensual way.

  Her whole body was vibrating in reaction to his stroking hand, and she closed her eyes, aching for more. For everything. Now. And faster. Much, much faster. But somehow she still managed to lie there motionless, her arms plastered politely against her sides, fingers digging into the quilt so she wouldn’t get in his way.

  “And as you explore, you should always try to find the spots where your partner is most sensitive.” He bent and kissed the space between her breasts, sucking and licking his way down the furrow of skin, then back up again.

  With a shudder of pleasure, Betsy opened her eyes and stared at him. Oh God, yes, had he ever found a sensitive spot. She sighed and whispered his name. “Matt.”

  But he shook his head and looked up at her as he broke off his between-breasts exploration much too soon. “Not yet. This next part is important. Once you find a sensitive spot, you work on it. With your hands. With your mouth. Tongues are especially good for that purpose. Teeth, too. I’ll show you.�
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  Bending again, he kissed her breast, his tongue skimming over the tip as his hand skimmed over her belly, sliding down toward her thighs.

  Betsy moved restlessly, her breath catching in her throat when his mouth followed the same path, kissing, nipping, and licking its way to the apex of her thighs.

  Lifting his head, he looked up at her. “You have a lot of very sensitive spots.”

  Betsy managed a small nod, not an easy thing to do when her body was on fire. But, oh God, yes, she definitely did have a lot of very sensitive spots, and in the last few seconds he seemed to have found every one of them. “Is that bad?”

  He shook his head, flashing strong, white teeth as he smiled. “No way. It’s the gold standard in lovemaking.”

  “Wonderful,” she breathed. Finally something about her that wasn’t deficient.

  “Now for the next part.” He rolled away from her.

  Frowning, Betsy raised her head. “You’re leaving?”

  “Just for a minute,” he assured her as he sat up. “Don’t go away.”

  Betsy sighed and lay down again, staring at the shadowy ceiling. Don’t go away. Not likely. Her body already quivered from the little he’d done to it, and when your body quivered, you didn’t go away, even if you wanted to. Which she didn’t.

  He rolled back, and he was naked. At least his chest, which touched her swollen breasts. Then his thigh moved against her hip, and that was naked, too. Damn, the man was a speedy undresser.

  She turned to smile at him, then blinked and stared at what he was holding. It glowed red in the semi-darkness of the room, and she raised her head to get a better look. “What’s that?”

  He held the thing even higher. “Condom.”

  “It’s glowing.”

  “Special product. They come in a lot of colors.” He stretched the glowing, red, rubber material over himself.

  “And they glow in the dark.” Her voice was a breathy whisper, and she had to bite her lip to keep from laughing. Then she noticed how it looked covering him or, more precisely, how he looked being covered. Even without his being turned on—and she knew he couldn’t have been turned on, certainly not by her—it seemed really large sheathed in that silly glowing thing. Long, thick, filled with sexual energy, so satisfying to feel inside of you.

  The urge to laugh died in her throat as a prickling sensation started low in her stomach, making her squirm with longing to have that bulging organ inside of her.

  Slumping back in bed, she forced her body to go stiff, surprised at where the sight of him in that glowing sheath had led her thoughts. It wasn’t something she normally considered, certainly not with Tyler and his staid beige condoms. But suddenly there it was, front and center in her mind. And that was bad, definitely not something she should have been thinking about in the middle of a lesson with a gay man and his glow-in-the-dark penis.

  “Maybe this isn’t such a good—” she started to say, but he was already rising to his knees, one hand grasping her wrists to ease her arms up over her head and onto the pillow.

  He towered above her, his face bathed in shadow, and she sensed that whatever he had in mind wouldn’t be bad. But she still couldn’t keep from squirming with nervous uncertainty. “Um, wait.”

  He didn’t. He used his free hand to smooth slowly down the front of her body, between her breasts, and over her stomach, aiming right for the apex of her thighs as it stroked the skin down there, massaging it carefully with his fingers, then pressing gently against it until he somehow managed to gain entry, even though it was the last thing she wanted him to do to her. She tried to turn onto her side to stop him, but he was suddenly bending over her, his mouth finding her breasts and suckling them with unhurried, tongue-thrusting movements.

  And that was it. After all those lustful thoughts she had been having, she knew she had to hold back and control herself and her movements. But—oh God—he was making it so hard.

  Closing her eyes, she gritted her teeth, ordering herself not to feel the sensation of his fingers between her thighs…his mouth blistering the tips of her breasts, first one, then the other…his hand pinioning her wrists so firmly above her head that she could do nothing but wait for whatever he had planned for her.

  But, damn, if he kept making her buck and writhe this way, then in the end she wanted it all. And if somehow he didn’t give it to her, then, double damn, she was good and determined to take it for herself. She’d never done that with Tyler, but Tyler had never done this to her. He’d never taken all this time and done all these things, and she didn’t think she could just sit idly by—correction, lie writhing idly by—if he sent her horny quotient rocketing into the stratosphere and then blithely decided to leave her unsatisfied.

  “Oh,” she said as he nipped at one of her nipples. “Oh, my God.”

  Tyler had never been a nipple nipper, though he had sucked at them a time or two. Matt’s teeth grasped her other nipple, and she clamped her mouth shut to keep from shouting, Yes, yes, yes, oh God, yes!

  “Mmm,” he murmured, his voice a satisfied rumble against her breast.

  She bit her tongue to stop herself from saying, “Mmm, what?” Because she knew what he meant. Her nipples were hard as stones, and she was wet down there where his hand was beginning its brazen exploration. Hell, more than wet—drenched from what he was about to put her through.

  Then his fingers started to move, dipping inside. First one finger, then two, then… Oh, she didn’t know how many were in her at that point. Enough to fill her, that much she could feel as he slid in deeper and deeper, touching places that had never been touched quite that way.

  She involuntarily arched her back, then even more involuntarily bucked against his hand, and he slid his fingers out again, making her relax with relief until they moved again, this time finding her clitoris and stroking it. Softly, then harder, then softly again—a series of alternating touches that made her thighs open wider to him and her back rise off the bed to get closer to the source of that delicious agony.

  Could he be bisexual? He seemed to know so much about a woman’s body…then she abandoned the thought, abandoned all thought as she held her breath, waiting for the flood to break and an orgasm to roll through her with the kind of fury she had never been able to achieve even when pleasuring herself.

  ****

  Matt lifted his mouth from her breasts and released her wrists, focusing all his effort on her clitoris. It was standing at attention, ripe and ready to unleash its pent-up hunger. But he wanted to do more than give her a fast and furious orgasm. He wanted her to take it for herself, because she was being too passive, too accommodating, as if she didn’t want to interfere with his enjoyment, and to hell with her own pleasure.

  He suddenly missed the other Betsy, the ballsy one who happily mashed a pan of eggs into submission. Damn, he wanted her back, and that’s what their lovemaking was going to do—bring out the tiger in the lady.

  Then he heard a noise back there behind the wall near the bed, suspected it was nosy-neighbor Lattimer—ear pressed against the wall as she tuned in to his promised sexual hijinks—and decided to combine Betsy’s arousal with a little frustration and a little anger. It was a potentially lethal combination that he couldn’t wait to see in action. Better yet, that he couldn’t wait to experience.

  But, God, it was also going to be hell on him. With his body so primed to empty his first-lesson lust into her, it would take all his willpower to hold off and force her to take charge, assert herself, and taste the kind of power she could wield.

  He knew it was a dirty trick, but if she wanted to—Matt tried not to grimace at the dumbass word—sizzle, she was going to have to get hot, bothered, self-confident, and assertive. So he did it.

  As her back arched, and her fluids bathed his hand, showing him that she was right on the verge of release, he stopped the movements cold. For a moment, her body went still, obviously waiting for his next move, the one that would push her over the edge. When it didn’t co
me, she made a startled sound in the back of her throat and slumped down against the sheets.

  Betsy opened her eyes and stared at him. “What are you doing?”

  Matt shrugged and flashed an innocent smile. “Nothing.”

  “I know that. Why did you stop? I was almost there.”

  “To see what you’d do.”

  She lifted her head off the pillow and skewered him with the kind of look murderers probably gave their victims just before they struck. “To see what I’d do? You’re joking, right?”

  Then she let out a growling noise, and he knew what she would do—turn angry, frustrated, hot as a mid-summer day. Just the way he wanted her.

  Sitting up, she poked him in the chest with an index finger, her temper obviously set on boil.

  “I am tired of being blown off by guys, Pollard. Got that? We had an agreement. You promised you’d help me improve in bed, not get me to the edge of an orgasm and then leave me flat. So do me and make it good.” Her voice was loud enough to ricochet through the wall and right into neighbor Lattimer’s eager eardrums.

  “Look,” he said, but she was way ahead of him, scrambling to her knees and pushing him over onto his back so he was lying there looking up at her, half dumbfounded, half excited by how firmly she was taking control.

  “Don’t look me.” She threw one leg over his body and straddled him.

  Matt shook his head obediently. “Wouldn’t dream of it.” He held his breath, trying not to squirm as her thighs pressed against his hips, and her crotch made delightfully agonizing contact with his engorged flesh.

  “First you turn me on and then you want to leave me cold. Well, no way. Not if I have anything to say about it.”

  Matt jerked as her body fitted itself over his penis that was so ready for her it was virtually standing on alert. Then she began to move, grinding against him. Clutching at the sheets, he sucked in his gut, trying not to lose control. But another vague sound from the next apartment made him remember Mrs. Lattimer, and he couldn’t help himself.