Unlaced

by Jaci Burton

  “What they say about big hands is definitely true.”

  The camera clicked as he said, “Actually they say the size of a man’s hand is inversely proportional to the size of his—”

  It was his turn to gasp as she wrapped her fingers around him. “This is definitely not inversely proportional.”

  Even as she watched, a bead pearled on the tip. Her mouth watered. She’d had wine, grapes, now this. He shuddered as she licked him clean, savoring his salty-sweet taste.

  “Delicious,” she whispered, and he pulsed in her hand. “Gorgeous,” she added, and felt a pressure against her grip as he grew. “Beautiful, wonderful, and eminently suckable.”

  He laughed. “You’re gonna make me come before you start.”

  “I never knew mere words could mean so much.”

  He shifted the camera enough to gaze at her. “Under certain circumstances, words are everything.”

  “I thought a picture was worth a thousand words.”

  “Not when you’re telling me I have a gorgeous cock.” Then he reached down to stroke her hair and give her the slightest push toward his crown. “But it’s even better if we have both.”

  “You mean you want me to talk to it while you photograph?”

  For just a moment, there was such a look in his eye. “You’re fun,” he said, and Margo had the feeling it was the highest of compliments, more important than any of the others.

  She rewarded him by sliding her parted lips down his underside, trailing her tongue. She would never be able to fit all of him, but gliding back up, she opened, took him. Circling his crown, she tasted once again the ambrosia of his come, then slid down to meet her fingers fisted around him.

  He groaned, and she looked up in the lens of the camera. He could see her while she couldn’t see him, and it gave her an odd little kick. When she retreated all the way to his tip, she paused, gazed, blinked, then sucked on the end like a lollipop.

  “Wench,” he muttered, but she felt his heat, his pulse, and relished a fresh burst of flavor.

  His hips shifted in rhythm, begging her to take him deeper again. Twice, three times, then a hard suck on the crown that sent a shudder through his body. She grabbed his big meaty man thighs, slid his cock inside until her eyes watered. He filled her, not just his girth or length, but the essence of the man.

  He sifted the fingers of one hand through her hair, guided her, flexed and rolled against her until he was pumping between her lips. With a deep groan rising from his gut, he bent to set the camera on the rug. Then he held her face in both big hands, taking her mouth with his cock as if he were deep inside her body. The pleasure radiated through her limbs, possessing her.

  Then he flew apart, shouted her name, and came undone completely in her mouth. Just as she was his, he belonged to her in a way no other man ever had before.

  He couldn’t remember how he ended up on the floor, his head in her lap. His knees must have given out when orgasm roared through. He’d gone mindless, the silk of her hair, her scent clouding his head, and her mouth dragging him straight to heaven.

  She stroked his eyebrow. Her lipstick wasn’t even smudged, lighter maybe, but not a single misplaced mark. She looked the regal lady, even the robe draping her shoulders once again.

  He’d never had a woman make him lose time and space. He recognized it was the circumstance, days of anticipation, the kinkiness, yet it was also Margo. Her elegance and grace, her smile, her trust. And her belief in his talent.

  His body still reeled. He splayed his hand across her abdomen beneath the silky robe, her body heat seeping through the corset. “Do you want to finish the photos?”

  Soothing his other eyebrow with her finger, she had the prettiest smile. “I think maybe you should get me out of this corset instead.”

  His heart plummeted. He didn’t want her out of it. Everything would be over too fast. As long as she wore it for him, she couldn’t leave. He sat up anyway, slowly, missing the warmth of her as he did so, then on his hands and knees, he moved behind her. “Undo the robe.”

  She let it fall. He couldn’t help dropping a kiss to her shoulder. “You didn’t have to do that, but it was the best.”

  Turning her head, just enough for him to see her smile, she whispered, “You taste good. I’ll always remember that the most.”

  He hated the finality in her words, yet this had been designed as a once-only interlude. He loosened the laces, starting at the top to unthread them through the holes.

  She let out a satisfied sigh, then laughed. Just as she would remember the taste of his come, he would always hear her laugh as much as anything else they’d done.

  “Was it that tight?” He kept his voice light.

  “It wasn’t bad, but you realize how much it pulled you together when you take it off.”

  She lifted her hair up off her neck as if that would help to unlace her. All it did was make him want to sink his teeth down on her nape like a lion and have at her. Despite the powerful come, he wanted her that way, from behind, his cock sunk deep.

  His fingers were suddenly clumsy with the laces, then she was free as he tossed the corset aside. The stays left red marks on her skin that faded even as he watched. He rose to his full height over her. She was naked except for the robe covering her lap, yet the blue screen of the TV hid her reflection.

  “Mm, it feels delicious to be free.” She shook her hair, then slowly drew the robe over her shoulders. Rolling to her feet, she turned to him, tucking the lapels close to her throat.

  In bare feet, she was so small versus his hulking body. Her gaze roamed his features, and for the first time, he feared what a woman thought of his face. Even before he’d gotten his nose broken, he hadn’t been a beauty.

  Then she smiled. “Thank you for tonight.” She stroked his chest. “You can’t imagine how good that was for me.”

  “Ditto.” It was all he could say. She was getting ready to go. He wanted to beg her to stay. Words failed him.

  “I’ll get dressed and be right back.” Then, up on her toes, her hand along the back of his neck, she kissed him lightly.

  It was the first time his lips had touched hers, so damn sweet. And sort of lonely as she headed back up to the loft.

  Their night was over long before he was ready for it to end.

  It was such a perfect way to end the evening. God, now he had her using that word.

  She’d left off every stitch of underclothing yet her cowl neck sweater trapped all her body heat inside. Minus the corset, she found her spine remained straight, shoulders back. Sashaying down his stairs, she felt sexy, hot beneath his simmering gaze as she entered the living room. She only hoped she could maintain the feelings once she left his house.

  “Shall we finish off the photos?” An eager little-boy expression animated his features.

  And he was a boy. Compared to her. It was exhilarating to touch his gorgeous physique, to take him in her mouth, to be desired by him. She would always be a tiny bit in love with the memory because of what he’d given her. He would forever be her younger man fantasy. But he was just a fantasy.

  “Why don’t you just send me the cream of the crop?”

  He blinked over those startling blue eyes. “But that means I have to keep the flash card.”

  “Yes.” That’s exactly what it meant. The pictures would be his, as was the choice to abuse the gift. He wouldn’t. Dirk was a different kind of man, though she hoped he would look at them over and over, remembering. “Pick out the ones you think are best and e-mail them to me.” She smiled to herself. “Don’t forget the last ones. They’re the most important.” She wanted to savor them just as she’d savored the taste of him. If she ever had a lonely night when she lost faith in herself again, she’d pull up the picture of Dirk Araman filling her mouth and be reminded of this release from her anxieties.

  “Well, I gotta go.” She hugged her gym bag, palmed her keys. “Thank you for tonight.”

  He retrieved her coat from the hall
closet and helped her into it. Then he held out a hand, his lips parted, as if he were weighing his words. “It was my pleasure. I’ll send you the best. You won’t be disappointed.”

  She backed up one step to the door. “Nothing you do could ever disappoint me.”

  He’d given her back so many pieces of herself she’d tossed away when Richard left.

  She was gone. He wasn’t ready. He’d wanted to beg her to kiss him. A real honest-to-God kiss, one that would stain his soul permanently.

  Instead, she left him with the photos. If he chose, he could submit them for the competition or post them on porn sites.

  Did she know how much trust she’d laid in his hands?

  He punched a couple of buttons on the hand remote and the TV blazed to life. She stared up at him in living color, her lips wrapped around him as she took him to heaven.

  He’d never seen a more beautiful sight in his life. He wanted to see it again and again. For real, not just a photo.

  Saturday morning she woke to the sun on her face. She stretched sinuously. Sensuously. Like a woman who’d had the absolute best sex of her life last night. And she’d have the pictures to prove it, beautiful, erotic photos of . . . her sucking a man’s cock. Her face.

  Margo sat bolt up in bed. She’d left him with the pictures. Suddenly the voices of reason were warring in her head.

  What if everyone finds out? What if he puts those pictures on the Internet?

  Dirk wouldn’t do that.

  But how did she know? She’d trusted him when her mind was clouded with his scent, his taste. A woman had no sense at a time like that. Good Lord, what had she been thinking?

  Without dressing first or even starting the coffee, she turned on her computer. The machine took forever with that damn virus software upgrade. Her fingers trembled when she finally got into the Internet and entered her user name and password for e-mail. She’d created an account specifically for answering the ad, an unidentified e-mail address he couldn’t trace her to.

  Thank God she hadn’t given him her full name, not even her cell phone number. Yet she’d still been stupid and let her emotions carry her away because he made her feel good.

  Good Lord, what if he asked Lorie about her? All it would take was her first name, and Lorie would know . . .

  Her heart beat faster and her blood drummed in her ears when she saw the e-mail from him. With an attachment.

  His message was brief. “Thank you for what you did. I stayed up all last night going through the photos. You brought out the best in me. I have never experienced anything more wonderful nor created a more perfect image.”

  God. Why did he have to sound so sweet?

  Holding her breath, she opened the attached photo. The air whooshed out of her, and her heart stopped for several beats.

  Taken from above, he was large, thick, filling her mouth, light tufts of brown pubic hair brushing her pinkie as she wrapped her fingers around him, her nail polish bright, red hot. Her face filled the photo. Not a hair out of place, not a wrinkle that didn’t give her grace and character. Her eyes wide, she gazed up at him as if he were the most important being in the world. This was his view of her. There was nothing tawdry or dirty. God, she was truly beautiful.

  His skill took her breath away all over again. Margo could only stare for long moments. She wanted to be that woman. She needed to believe she was, but less than twelve hours after her revelations of last night, she’d started doubting again.

  Her fingers hovered over the keyboard. She could search him out on the Internet. She’d simply taken Lorie’s word that he was a nice guy. She’d never checked for herself.

  Yet that was ripping away the gift of trust she’d given him.

  He’d never know she’d done it, that sane voice whispered. He’d expect her to do it. He’d wonder why she hadn’t.

  Except that after meeting him, seeing his family photos, begging him to make her come, taking him in her mouth, it seemed an underhanded way to treat him.

  She’d trusted her instincts about him last night. She’d trusted herself and her own judgment of character. If anyone saw that picture, hell, they’d be jealous. She was a catastrophizer. The only possible outcome was always the worst one. Her career would tank, she’d lose her house, and be out on the streets. Worse, she’d had to move in with her mother.

  Take a chance. Stop worrying.

  Instead of searching, she hit Reply and began typing. “Thank you. I want to always see myself this way. But I did get a little frightened that I’d left the pictures with you.”

  He replied so quickly, he must have been sitting at his computer. “I will never hurt you. You are safe. Would you like to talk to my mother and have her tell you what a nice man I am?”

  Shades of what Lorie said about him. She laughed out loud despite her anxiety. She was riddled with anxieties; she always would be. Unless she took a chance and let them all go. “I’ll give you my vote of confidence without your mother’s endorsement. I love the picture. You have such talent. Send me more.”

  When his e-mail came in, she was such a slut, she clicked on the attachment first. In it, she sat on her haunches, the red silk robe pooled in her lap, the corset plumping her breasts. His gorgeous cock would soon be in her mouth. Anticipation colored her face, lids half closed, that sultry little moue he’d asked for adorning her lips. This wasn’t a pose. This was her, the woman in her craving the man.

  Her skin heated, her body moistened, and her mouth watered for another taste of him. How could he do that to her with a mere picture? Yet he did, because he had some innate ability to draw out a woman’s essence.

  If these photographs ever made it to the Internet, she’d be proud to acknowledge them. She’d adore sending one to Richard.

  She went back to the e-mail to tell Dirk how much she loved it. His answer made her heart stutter through several beats. “You are the sexiest woman alive. I want to see you again.”

  See her again? As in another photo session? Or something more? She closed her eyes and imagined his hands on her, his mouth, his cock deep inside her. And God, yes, she wanted that.

  But he was twelve years younger, and when he got tired of her, she wouldn’t be able to handle the loss. She knew she’d invest way too much in how he made her feel. You didn’t have to fall in love with someone to get hurt. You could simply have your needs met, then find it all ripped away when you least expected. Sex was never just sex. Walking away from his offer wasn’t the same as not taking a chance; it was nipping a problem in the bud before it started. She’d gotten everything she needed last night. More than she’d ever dreamed of or hoped for. It was silly to ruin it now by letting things get away from her.

  Besides, Lorie would totally freak if she ever knew what Margo had done.

  Yet her temple began to throb as she typed. “That’s not a good idea, Dirk. I’m older, at a different stage of life, and all that. But thank you. And thanks for a wonderful evening. I will always treasure the memory.”

  She sent it off. She was fine. This was the best thing to do. Time to get dressed. Time to return to the real world. Dirk Araman was a beautiful fantasy.

  It was best to leave him that way.

  Shit. Okay, it was only a minor setback. He’d e-mail and give her time to get used to hearing from him. Until she expected his e-mails, wanted them. Hell, he had enough photos of her to keep this going for months.

  Her last lover had walked away because she wasn’t willing to take a chance. Dirk wouldn’t let Margo make the same mistake. He would get into her life, some way, someday. He didn’t give a damn how old she was, she was perfect. She believed in him.

  He would show her how good they could be together.

  Seven

  He drove her wild. So many seductive pictures. She was like Narcissus, always staring at herself. Except that it wasn’t just her, it was Dirk. Touching her with a big hand. His brow furrowed in concentration as he used the vibrator to make her mindless. His blue eyes ablaze as
he tasted her the first time.

  With every picture he sent, one by one by one, he asked her for coffee, or dinner, a walk in the park, a bike ride.

  The seventh day, she couldn’t stand it anymore. She wanted sex with him. One night of passionate sex with a big, strong, hot young man.

  Just once, she told herself on Friday evening as she dressed in a black Lycra top that laced down the back. It reminded her of the corset. She wanted to remind him, too. She paired the top with a leather skirt that zipped straight up the front and straight up the back. Richard had called it her easy-access skirt. After a painstaking makeup job, she gave herself the thumbs-up. She’d hold her own with a woman even Dirk’s age.

  She didn’t call ahead to tell him she was coming, and by the time she hit his driveway, she was hot and wet with anticipation and nerves. She parked behind a car by the garage. Lights blazed inside the house, as did the Christmas icicles along the roofline. He was definitely home, but what if he had a woman with him? She hadn’t thought of that. Butterflies in her belly added to her excitement.

  Her high-heeled shoes clicked loudly on the front porch, and if she wasn’t mistaken, she could hear the TV. The condoms were in her purse, she was here, sexy and needy. It was now or never. She didn’t want to be eighty and regretting that she never took advantage of this gorgeous specimen of a man.

  A shadow passed over the door’s opaque glass. Somehow, it seemed too small for Dirk’s bulk. Margo held her breath.

  An older woman answered. A very short lady, especially since Margo was in heels. Lord, Dirk was a changeling. This was his mother, though she’d left behind the flowing caftan in favor of a chic red jogging suit that wasn’t meant for a workout.

  His mom gasped. “Oh my goodness, you’re Dirk’s friend Margo.” She grabbed Margo’s hand. “Come in, come in.”

  Lord. How did the woman know about her? What had he said?

  “Is Dirk here?” It was the only thing Margo could think to ask that didn’t accidentally reveal how she and Dirk had met.