by Jody Wallace
Liam murmured into her body, blowing and suckling. Sal’s fingers dug into the bedspread. His tongue teased and flickered, his hands kneaded and stroked. God, he was good. He hit every right spot and none of the wrong ones. When he inserted two fingers into her sheath and sucked her clit, Sal saw stars. One, then two. Then more until…
Almost as soon as he started, he stopped, slid off the bed, and stood before her.
“Damn,” she said.
His tongue flicked his top lip, savoring the tang of her body. “You’re getting ahead of me.”
“Then catch up.” She reached for him, and he stepped back.
“Are women visual creatures?” His dress shirt hung from his shoulders. He shrugged it off. A strand of hair fell over his forehead as his hands dropped to his belt.
Sal blew out a huge breath, stemming the crest of her libido, and propped into a sitting position. She clenched her thighs to subdue the sharp hunger that lurked there. “This one is.”
Liam grinned and unbuckled his belt. He withdrew it from the loops and pulled it through his fingers, measuring its length. The rasp of leather on skin, the tick of the clock on the cherry nightstand, did nothing to conceal the sound of Sal’s indrawn breath.
He folded the belt and smacked the leather against his palm. Her insides shivered.
After he kicked off his shoes, Liam unbuttoned his pants and skated the zipper over his erection. The grey slacks slid down his legs. His boxers, incongruously, were white with bright green shamrocks. She’d always pictured him in black silk and found herself titillated by this disparity. His erection tented the front of the cotton garment.
“Shall I continue?” His thumbs stretched the waistband of his drawers.
“It’s only fair.” She let her hand trail across her hipbone, thread through the curls that covered her mound. She couldn’t help herself. She ached. She needed. She was slick with his saliva and her own moisture. His gaze latched onto her fingers, and he slipped off the boxers.
Magnificent.
“Turn around,” she commanded. She twirled her finger in the air and drew one of her sandaled feet up to brace against the bed. Liam flexed for her, then did the same from behind. His back, which she’d seen often enough, curved with muscles, and his behind was taut, his thighs lean. No tan lines, no freckles. What looked like the remnants of a sunburn marred the surface of his flesh.
When he faced her, she reached to unbuckle her sandal, and he stopped her with a warm hand. His body brushed her legs as he loomed over her. “Leave them on.”
“You like these?” She tiptoed her foot up his body until it rested against his chest. The tall heels, which had pained her all night, suddenly seemed more than a cruel torture device.
“I picked them out for you, didn’t I?” His hands circled her ankle and he lifted her leg higher.
Sal wasn’t designed to bend that way while sitting, so she lay back. He caressed her calf—thank goodness she’d shaved—nipped her ankle, and kissed her toe. Faint perspiration added a sheen to his skin. He rubbed his hand along her leg until it tickled the inside of her thigh. Her loins pulsing, she stilled the instinctive thrust of her hips. She wanted to go into this cool and sophisticated, not like some horny schoolgirl.
“I thought the shoes were an odd present,” she said. “Not like the gift certificate to Circuit City you usually give me.”
Liam pulled her to the edge of the bed until her bottom was touching his erection. Sal gulped. She felt exposed and vulnerable and sensed that he knew it. He shifted closer with a little smile. “Is it all right to admit I’ve occasionally thought about you wearing them…and nothing else?” He kissed her ankle again and traced the strap with his finger.
“Oh,” Sal said, feeling like an idiot. He’d thought about her in a sexual way? Why had he never said anything? She opened her mouth to ask when something hot and hard prodded her nether region, scorching her moist folds.
Liam’s jaw tightened, and he closed his eyes.
“Is something wrong?” Had he suddenly realized who, exactly, was in his bed? They couldn’t stop now!
“Nothing a few multiplication tables won’t cure.” He smoothed his palm across her stomach, ending at her breast. His thumb chafed her nipple. With a gasp, she arched into his touch.
They wouldn’t stop now. She’d see to it. She reached between their legs and grasped his erection. She fondled the rigid shaft from tip to base, rubbing the head against her wetness without allowing penetration. Liam, his breath rapid, bent and tugged her nipple into his mouth.
His movement pushed Sal’s leg into a painful stretch. To ease the strain, she wrapped both legs around him until her sandal-clad feet met behind his back. There was just enough space between their bodies for her hand to pleasure them both with his shaft. A liquid pulse began to ripple through her. She hummed with pleasure and wriggled her slick fingers over the head of his erection, stimulating the sensitive area underneath.
Liam’s teeth scraped her nipple, nearly causing pain. She whimpered. Panted. He suckled the side of her neck hard enough to leave a mark, nipped her earlobe, and kissed her. Their tongues circled and danced, shared breath.
With a low growl, he replaced her hand on his cock with his own, assuming control. He stroked it up and down her cleft, through and through. Fast and slow. He pivoted himself against her clit, both of them slick with her cream.
When Sal reached for him again, he teased the thick head of his erection into the beginning of her sheath. Just the tip, stretching her, burning her. When he withdrew, she whimpered. Grabbed his hips and pulled. She craved his body inside hers.
“Liam, please,” she begged.
“I need a condom,” he said. “But not yet.” Again and again he taunted her with his cock and refused full penetration. Her pussy ached so badly, it almost hurt. They slid together and apart, both gasping for breath.
When he inserted three fingers into her body, she clenched around him. He groaned into her mouth. “Sal, you’re so tight. So wet. So—”
“So get a condom,” she interrupted.
He ripped himself from her and dug in the nightstand for the condom. In seconds, he’d fumbled into it. He positioned himself between her legs and captured her gaze as he eased into her. She moaned and reached for him, wanting to feel more than just the physical connection. Liam complied, his eyes black with arousal.
Connected, nearly dizzy, they scooted back on the bed and she locked her legs around his waist. With increasing vigor he rocked in and out of her. Pleasure radiated through her, and his pulse thundered beneath her lips when she kissed his neck. What began as a sensual rhythm turned into a maelstrom of thrusts and moans. Something tickled the back of her mind and expanded, like a sneeze that convulsed her whole body.
She rushed upward, outward, and exploded in wonderful spasms that drove him over the edge. Her body squeezed his cock convulsively. Liam groaned her name and sank into her, his face buried in her neck.
“Holy spirits,” he whispered, which surprised her, because she hadn’t known him to follow any particular religion. “What a rush. Was that sex or a dream?”
An odd feeling suffused Sal, as if she floated in a pool of bubbles. Soft pops ran along her arms and legs, her belly, her breasts. She’d never felt anything like it and attributed it to the dream come true thing, magnificent sex and nearly simultaneous orgasms.
Liam, too, had called it a dream. What did that mean?
Several long moments passed as they lay joined and savored the outcome of their lovemaking. She wondered if Liam felt bubbles too, but decided not to ask in case he thought she was hallucinating. Could one hallucinate with joy? He was heavy but not too heavy, his weight a sweet reminder of the differences between them. She sighed aloud and stroked his sweaty back, surprised that it seemed to be covered in bits of gunk.
Weird. She was the one mashed against the dust-magnet velvet spread. Had his white dress shirt been new and linty fresh? She inspected her palm—small pieces
of skin speckled it.
“That’s quite the case of peels you’ve got there.” She rubbed her hand on his bedspread.
Liam sprang off her as quickly as a cat deciding to be in another room this very instant. Her privates squelched in an unattractive manner, and she clapped a hand over them. A wild expression on his face, he backed off the bed.
Sal felt like he’d turned her inside out. “Dude, that hurt. Give me back my vagina.”
“I don’t have the peels.” He reached the door. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
She sat up. “Liam, I don’t care if you toasted yourself in the tanning bed. Jeez, I already know you’re vain.”
Liam halted at the door and eyed her warily. “The tanning bed? You think I have a sunburn?”
“You’re peeling like crazy.” She showed him her hand, still decorated with his skin. “What did you think I meant?”
He deflated against the doorjamb. “I have to chuck the condom and use the bathroom.”
“The bathroom’s that way.” She jerked her thumb at the master bath, which was not the direction he’d been headed.
“I, ah, wanted a beer first.”
“Which makes perfect sense.” Sal collapsed on the bed and grimaced. Was this why he never dated longer than a month? He turned into an insane person after they slept together. Maybe they’d broken up with him, not vice versa as he’d claimed.
“I’m really thirsty.”
“Liam, don’t bother explaining.” She rolled over and buried her face in the mattress. The plush velvet spread annoyed her still-sensitized nipples.
“You busted me.” Liam hooked a towel off the ground and wrapped it around his waist. “I was going to use the other toilet. I didn’t want you to hear me pee.”
“Like you haven’t peed with me in the next room a million times.” She rested her chin on her hands and glared at the brocade throw pillows stacked against the headboard. “In fact, you’re a very loud urinater.”
“Sal, I…” He paused, lowered his voice. “It’s different now. You’re my lover.”
“Oh.” A little frisson passed through her at his use of the L-word. Correction, a form of the L-word. “You’re being ridiculous.”
“Hold that thought.” Liam disappeared into the master bath and she heard a blast of running water, which she sincerely hoped was the faucet.
He exited after a bit, minus one condom, plus one cocky grin. The bedsprings creaked and a warm pair of arms clasped her from behind. She smelled soap and lotion. “We all have our hang-ups. I don’t like to appear at a disadvantage in front of my lover.”
Again, the little thrill at his use of the word. Liam Connell was her lover. Did that make him…boyfriend? Significant other? Sex buddy? She didn’t do sex buddies, and he knew it.
Probably not the best time to bring it up. Maybe in five minutes, after he apologized for his weirdness.
“Too late to impress me,” she said. She turned her head to the side so he could see her profile. “I know you too well.”
He nuzzled her neck. “Remember what I predicted in the taxi? Wasn’t that the most knowing sex you’ve ever had?”
Was it ever! Should she mention the bubbles? Nah. Maybe that was a woman thing. She grinned, and he kissed the dimple in her cheek.
“What I know is having your ego stroked is another hang-up of yours,” she said. “Not to mention this whole shoe thing.” Sal waggled her feet in the air.
His hand slid down her back, across her buttocks. She giggled.
“I seem to recall a little hang-up you have titled ‘Does this make me look fat’?” He shook the flesh of her bottom, which continued to jiggle when his hand stopped.
“Shut up!” Any lingering arousal and contentment drained out of Sal like a speeding taxi. Mortified, she tried to wriggle out of his arms, but he held her fast. Was he going to list her deficiencies now that he’d gotten laid? Too fat, too shrewish, too…
“You have never once looked fat to me.” Liam shifted and dropped a kiss at the base of her spine. “Not even in your white sweatpants. You’ve always just looked…” He paused and scraped his teeth across her bottom, which awoke a response in parts she thought had been humiliated into silence. “Edible.”
A hot tongue trailed down the crevice of her behind, and Sal yelped. Her hips bucked off the bed in surprise.
“That tickles!” It did more than tickle, but he wasn’t off the hook yet. As far as she and her ass were concerned, even teasing about the “f” word was tantamount to a cold shoulder.
But that would mean going home. Leaving Liam alone in this big, rumpled bed when she’d finally wormed her way into it. It might give him time to reflect on the fact that she wasn’t his type. She didn’t understand his motivations for seducing her, but she was willing to see what happened next. She was even willing to postpone the relationship discussion till tomorrow, after Gram’s French toast, hash brown casserole, cheese eggs and corn fritters stupefied him into a complacent torpor.
For now, should she…turn the other cheek?
Sal snorted.
“You think that’s funny?” Liam nudged her legs apart and kissed the curve of her derriere. A finger slid between her thighs.
“What are you doing?” Her pulse sputtered to life. He could turn her off and on like a light switch. She felt a little out of control.
He rubbed his long finger across her center, and she parted her legs. “I said I was thirsty. Turns out I’m hungry.” His teeth sank gently into the back of her thigh.
“I want to talk.” Forget the French toast. She had to know. “What are we doing? I mean, is this dating or what?”
His finger continued to manipulate her. “Does it matter?”
“It does to me,” she said with a gasp.
His hot breath trickled between her legs. “Relax, Sal. We’ve got all night.” Liam kissed and caressed her bottom while he explored her folds with his clever fingers.
Sal arched off the bed and whimpered. Liam rubbed and rubbed, plucking her clitoris, inserting one, then two, then three fingers into her body. He alternated between deep thrusts and swift, slick stimulation. His moist tongue fluttered close to her clit, then away, teasing and taunting. Moisture trickled down her inner thighs.
She clenched the bedspread, feeling vulnerable and mad for it at the same time. What was it she’d wanted to ask him? She couldn’t think, couldn’t see him, couldn’t tell what he was doing, but she could feel it. He spread her legs wide. Wider. She was not made to stretch this way!
It felt so good, she stretched anyway. His thumb pressed against her anus. Tested her. Then his tongue followed. An intense, aching sensation turned her whole body to melted wax. When his wet fingers grazed her clit again, she realized she was firmly on the path toward a second climax.
Just when things were getting sweaty, a crash sounded against the front door followed by the tinkle of pottery.
Again Liam leapt off the bed, leaving Sal’s feminine parts bereft.
“G-gah!” Sal stuttered.
“You bastard!” screeched a hysterical female voice. Something else exploded against the front door. “I brought your coffee mug back!”
Chapter Seven
“Holy crap on a muffin,” Liam cursed.Sal was willing to bet Gram’s prize pink roses the pissed-off female was Kristiana. So much for therapists knowing how to deal with anger in constructive ways. From the sound of it, she’d just shattered a window in the living room.
Liam shrugged into the green plaid robe he snatched from the back of the bedroom door. “I’ve got to take care of this.” He ran a hand through his auburn hair and grimaced.
Sal wrapped herself in the velvet bedspread in case Kristiana came barging into the house. “Call the cops on her. Destruction of property. If you’d have done that with Virginia, it would have been over a lot sooner.”
Liam’s gaze cut to the side. “I can’t do that.”
Outside, Kristiana ranted. “Whose pocketbook
is this?” Something thudded against the bedroom window that faced the front yard, but the glass didn’t break. Sal rolled out of bed and peeked out the curtains, afraid a brick would burst into the house at any moment. Shock hit her when she saw her purse and its contents strewn across the landscaping.
Kristiana, in the front yard, noticed the bedroom curtains flutter and pointed. “Tell whatever bitch you’ve got in there I’m going to do this to her face!” At her feet was Sal’s cellular phone, which she promptly impaled on her stiletto heel.
“That’s my phone!” Sal exclaimed. “She smashed my phone. Liam, do something about your crazy girlfriend.” As she watched, another woman exited the red car parked askew at the curb, this one even taller and more beautiful than Kristiana.
“Kris, come on, he’s not worth it,” the woman called. Unlike Kristiana’s shrill, angry tones, her voice was muffled by distance.
“She’s not my girlfriend. She hasn’t been for months.” Liam glanced at Sal, his gaze unreadable, before tightening the belt on his robe and heading towards the front door. He flicked on lights as he went.
That’s right. He’d broken up with Kristiana and was now sleeping with her, Sal.
A feeling of buoyancy flooded her. “Be careful,” she called to him. “I think she’s got a beer bottle. Oooh, it’s cheap beer too.”
No matter the reason, she was the one in Liam’s bedroom, naked and aroused. Beautiful, perfect, condescending Kristiana, who always hinted Sal needed therapy, was the unwanted woman in the cold, dark yard.
A bar of light from the living room flashed across the grass when Liam opened the door.
Kristiana threw down her bottle and stalked toward the porch, exiting Sal’s line of sight. She was not, however, out of earshot. “Oh, my God, this is her hideous green blouse,” Sal heard Kristiana say, apparently noticing the clothing she and Liam had deposited on the front porch. “You’re fucking the Frump Queen.”
