TASTE ME

by Carrie Alexander

  "That is your answer. You don't want anyone to see."

  He stepped closer, cupping her elbows, being sure to shield her body. "I'm trying to protect you. There are windows around us—"

  "Oh!" Mia glanced up with worried eyes. The few windows that overlooked the enclosed courtyard were black. "I didn't think."

  "It's all right. We should be okay."

  "I'm sorry," she said. "As usual, I was too impulsive. Just because I'm falling in love, I shouldn't expect you to—to be ready to throw caution to the winds. Especially in front of ev—your friends and colleagues and—" Her voice was broken, halting. He'd never seen her so unsure. But he could only focus on one thing:

  Mia was falling in love.

  Julian hadn't expected that to come out of her mouth. Baring her breasts seemed conservative by comparison. And he didn't know how to answer. She was right in that the invitation to the museum benefit had been a test, of sorts. For himself more than her. She'd done well, and he'd been less wary of her actions than he'd thought. Hell, he'd even pushed the envelope with Spear.

  But he still wasn't entirely comfortable with the idea of making her a part of his everyday life.

  Mia had always been separate and unique to him. A rare butterfly—beautiful, but so fragile he had to protect it. Box it up.

  No fun for the butterfly, he realized.

  When the silence continued to grow, Mia drew in a deep breath and turned her back to him. A slender back, bare to the waist and very vulnerable. She forced a brittle laugh. "Look at me. Falling for Bachelor Seventeen, when I swore I wouldn't. Who has the last laugh now?"

  He stroked her smooth shoulder, intending to soothe her, but she shivered under his hand. "I'm not laughing."

  "You should be. We both know this can't work. I'll always be wearing paint under my clothes. If I wear clothes."

  "But I like that about you. And there's a lot of feeling between us—" He halted with an inward wince. Feeling? He couldn't give her more than that?

  "This is what we have," she said, uncrossing her arms as she turned and pressed in close against him, her breasts exposed only for an instant before they were shielded again by his chest. She flung her arms around his neck. "And this." Her hand caught the back of his neck, bending him toward her mouth as she rose onto her toes to kiss him.

  "Wait," he said, but then she was kissing him. Even though he knew it wasn't a kiss that came from her heart, it was still a kiss. Hot and erotic, and just savage enough to taste a little nasty. He'd wanted to be reassuring, to explain away his hesitation; instead, he reached around and ran his hands over the curves of her bottom through the dress and took a firm hold and pulled her against his growing erection.

  "Tell me the truth," she whispered, biting at his neck. Her tongue traced his jawline, slid over the cartilage of his ear. "You're turned on because I'm naked under my dress. All I'm wearing is paint and not a single person at the party knew it except you." She whispered directiy into his ear, almost panting with urgency. "Naked under my dress."

  He groaned. She was right. He was excited, aroused, especially by the idea that they were putting one over on Spear and the rest of his board of directors—the very people he'd been worried Mia would shock.

  She laughed softly. "I can tell." Her hips swayed. "I can feel. You want to get freaky with me."

  "Maybe."

  "Aw, don't get cautious now. Admit it. You know that if the party guests had any idea, they'd be gasping and moaning about Julian Silk and his outrageous tramp. The women would be appalled and the men would pretend to be, although secretly they'd want me, too. But I'm all yours. Just for you. You're the only guy who gets to touch me—" she rolled her hips under his hands "—and taste me—" a wet, slathering kiss that traveled from his mouth to his throat"—and you're the one who gets to rip off my dress and screw me blind."

  She parted his shirt between the studs and opened her mouth on his bare skin, using her teeth and tongue in a sucking kiss.

  When he didn't respond, she stopped and looked up at him, shoving her disheveled curls off her face with the back of her wrist. "So come on, what are you waiting for?"

  His fingers dug into her tempting flesh. She smiled in triumph and moved sinuously against him; her hands slid across the front of his suit, stroking and squeezing, devilishly inquisitive. He throbbed with wanting her, but the desperate edge in her voice and actions worried him. She would think that their relationship was only about sex. And that would be misleading. He understood that now.

  He opened his mouth. "Let's go back—"

  "Not to the party. I'm not—I don't fit in—" She stopped, vigorously shaking her head.

  "Go back to what you said. About falling in love with me."

  Her hands fisted on his lapels. "Can we pretend I didn't say that? I was rash. Premature. Carried away by the moment."

  "That's three excuses too many."

  She continued to shake her head, looking up at him with suspiciously bright eyes.

  He held her chin. "There's nothing wrong with a fast game of slutty sex, but I won't have you thinking that's all that you mean to me. You've got to know better."

  Her expression held its stubbornness for a moment and then gave way. She dropped her lashes and admitted, "Oh, all right. We have feelings for each other."

  "That's better." He pinched her bottom.

  Her mouth puckered. "Now can we have slutty sex?"

  "I should say no, out of principle."

  She drew his zipper down and slipped her hand inside his trousers. "The monster has no principles. He's raring to go."

  Julian tilted his head back and stared at the smudgy city sky. Damn, he was so weak when it came to Mia. So out of control. She wasn't the kind of woman anyone expected him to choose, but he was coming to understand that she was exactly what he wanted.

  She kissed the underside of his jaw. "Julian?"

  "Yes." He gave in with a groan and lifted her off her feet, taking two steps to the fountain with her lace-patterned breasts swaying in his face. "This paint's not edible?"

  "No-o-o-o."

  He splashed a couple of handfuls of the water at her chest. She squealed and wriggled, but he held on, keeping her close even though the white paint was running in rivulets, revealing streaks of pale pink skin. Her nipples poked out, white buttons dotted by a circle of tiny rhinestones. More of the fake diamonds ran in a line from her breasts to her shoulders, making the straps of her provocative fool-the-eye bra. He rubbed one of the little gems with his thumb until it popped off. "God, Mia. You're a trip."

  "Mmm-hmm." She nudged his thumb toward the white crest.

  He rolled her nipple between his thumb and forefinger, staining them with the trickling paint. "You were right about one thing. Every man at the party wanted you, even without knowing your secret, but I'm the one who gets to do this—"

  He bent and stroked her nipple with his tongue. It sprang up even tighter, seeming to beg for more of his attention even when Mia said, rather breathlessly, "The paint. It's not edible…"

  "Then I'll clean you." He pulled out his pocket square, snapping it open. "I've always hoped to find a use for one of these."

  "Your dry cleaners will wonder."

  "They've probably seen it all, including nipple paint." He wet the square in the water and dabbed it on her breasts, carefully sopping up the soluble coloring and prying off some of the jewels as he worked.

  After a few seconds of mat, she moved, rolling her shoulders, making her breasts shimmy like a burlesque queen's. "Harder," she moaned. "Scrub them clean."

  He couldn't wait. The sight of her full round breasts, combined with the knowledge that she'd walked into a fancy party that way, naked and swaying, fully accessible, and yet on the surface clothed most conservatively…

  The woman played with his head. She drove him wild.

  He craved her—constantly.

  A clunk of a sound from somewhere behind them stopped him inches away from her pouting nipple. "Dam
n."

  Mia folded her arms over her breasts. "Who's there?" she quailed.

  There was no answer, except a distant siren in the night. Julian shrugged. "Could have been anything. From the street, or someone in the museum…" He started to lower his head.

  "But they might come out here, and we're right out in the open."

  "Easy fix." He lifted her again. "Hold on."

  "I don't know… Oh dear…" She gripped his shoulders, locking her legs around his waist as he moved away from the fountain. His hands wrapped around her upper thighs, holding her high and tight. The position pressed her hot center against his waist and kept her breasts on a convenient level with his face. He nuzzled into the hollow between them, and she gave a breathy snort of laughter, cradling him with her luscious tits buffeting his cheeks. Almost paradise.

  Mia clutched at his head when he staggered, tearing a few hairs out. "Watch what you're doing." She giggled. "Don't drop me."

  Indeed. He turned his face a few degrees and was able to pull one her mostly pink nipples into his mouth.

  "What are you—oh Julian, that's—oh, you really have to stop—"

  He gave no answer, busy trying to see where he was going with his mouth full of her flesh. He played her with his tongue, thinking that he'd really have to insist that she only used edible paints from now on.

  "Hrmph," he said, regaining his hold on her thighs as he found a deep doorway that was shadowed by the foliage. The heavy steel door would doubtlessly open into the back ell of the museum, probably a maintenance access point. One caged light bulb burned above the lintel.

  Without letting go of her breast, Julian pushed Mia up against the brick wall, easing most of her weight off him. The smell of green plants, moist earth and chalky brick was all around them. The doorway was narrow enough that she was able to brace herself with her sandals leveraged on the opposite wall, pressing her spine into the brick. He angled a thigh under her, providing her more support while he closed his eyes, still suckling at her, harshly inhaling through his nose as his mouth opened to take even more. More sex, more love. More Mia.

  She rubbed up and down against him. He put one hand behind her to protect her skin from the rough brick, and reached the other in between her spread thighs. He couldn't see, but he wanted to feel—had she really, truly gone all the way?

  Oh yes. She had.

  When he touched her naked pussy, she let out an involuntary yelp of surprise—or maybe it was pleasure. Her nipple was yanked out of his mouth. Her heels skidded across the wall, but he caught her before she slipped too far and hoisted her back up again. He stroked the back of her thighs, went higher and found more of the glued-on jewels and the slick texture of the paint, fully aware that she was split open like a ripe fruit inches away from his hands. He reached farther and his fingers played along the enticing crevice, parting her slippery folds to slide deep into her most intimate warmth.

  She was tight. Shivering with arousal. Her body rose up and down, riding his fingers. "Are you sure this is private? I don't want to be in the tabloids. Def-definitely not in this position."

  "I think we're as private as it gets, considering." He checked for security cameras—cursing himself for not thinking of that earlier—out near the fountain. The glass doors had been left open; the museum personnel must have been aware that guests might drift to the garden.

  Mia writhed on his hand. "I can't take this much longer. Tell me that you're prepared."

  "As a Scout." But not prepared for the strength of his desire—and his emotions. Mia challenged him at every turn, matched his every move, took him far beyond his safety zone.

  He wedged his leg under her more tightly, found the condom in the slim black leather billfold in his inside breast pocket, gave it to her and then dropped his pants. She fumbled with the packet, dropping the lubricated rubber between her breasts when the foil tore. If they'd been in a less precarious position, he'd have investigated the possibilities. Instead he gave each puckered tip a kiss before fishing out the condom. She arched into him, telling him to hurry.

  His technique was artless, but no one was scoring style points for this go-round. After somehow managing to reach past her and sheathe himself, he pushed toward her entrance and urged her to take him inside.

  She lowered herself with a ragged sigh of satisfaction that raised goose bumps all over his perspiring skin. He hugged her tight, trapping her between his body and the brick wall as he drove the final inch. There was little room to maneuver, not without abrading her tender skin, so he contented himself with grinding their hips in slow circles, giving an extra push with each full rotation. The contact must have felt good because each thrust pulled a quick intake of breath from her, followed by a lower-lip shudder of relief. She locked her ankles at his back, clinging as she rode him home.

  As the intensity peaked, their mouths met. They kissed hungrily, all teeth and tongue and hot panting breaths. She became too eager, flinging herself at him on a downward glide and upsetting their delicate balance. They tipped over just as a tremendous climax began to roar through him. He hit the opposite wall with a thud that he'd feel tomorrow, but that was no more than a minor inconvenience tonight. Keeping hold of Mia, plunging inside her as he came—that was all he needed.

  She let out a whoop. Her legs slipped off him, but he grabbed hold, keeping her plastered against his length and himself planted deep as the explosive shocks rocked them, one right after the other until he was finally drained. Out of strength.

  Slowly, they slid to the cement floor. Tangled, halfway between sitting and complete collapse. He kept his arms around Mia until she stopped vibrating and was down to only the occasional involuntary shudder.

  They separated with a squelch. She pushed her hair back. "Whew."

  "Yeah. Whew." He looked over at her as she pushed her skirt back down, catching a brief sight of the intricate lace design that had been painted across her bottom.

  He reached over, lifting her dress for a better view. "How the hell did you do that to yourself?"

  "A stencil and an airbrush." Blushing, she pushed her dress down again.

  "You're a contortionist?"

  She grinned. "Sometimes. But I had help with the parts I couldn't reach very well. Cress came over." Cress? Julian decided that he didn't want to know.

  Time was wasting. They'd have to move soon, but he still wasn't sure that he could stand. He removed the condom, wondering what had happened to his pocket square. He jerked his trousers up from his ankles and stuffed himself and the tail of his shirt back inside.

  Mia sighed. "I can't believe I was all wound up ten minutes ago and now I can't even stand. My muscles are like jelly."

  Wound up. He thought back to what she'd said about him having to accept her. It was an important point, for both of them.

  He cleared his throat. "About your question—"

  "Let's hold off on that." She rested her shoulders against the brick wall, stabbed her heels into the concrete and drew her legs up. "At the moment, I'm too exhausted to face a heavy emotional discussion. Can it keep until tomorrow?"

  "Tomorrow," he agreed. Tomorrow, they would talk.

  Talk. When had he ever wanted to talk? Was he losing his mind?

  Or just his standing as a bachelor?

  The next day, Petra Lombardi was enjoying a leisurely morning in bed with a breakfast tray and the newspapers. Everything had been going so well for her lately that she'd allowed herself a buttered croissant and a glass of pineapple juice. She'd do an extra thousand feet on the stair climber in penance.

  Her latest boy toy was singing in the shower. Troy fancied himself a recording artist, but the only tracks he'd laid so far had been between her expensive linen sheets. The man practically yodeled when he came. Yodeling was horrid on its own, but off-key yodeling was too much for a woman of her taste to put up with. If she kept him around much longer, she'd have to invest in a pair of ear plugs. And a thicker bathroom door.

  But there were more imp
ortant problems to solve. Petra hummed to herself, thinking of how she could persuade Sean Morrissey, the managing editor of Hard Candy, to hire Nikki Silk. Shouldn't be too hard, even though Sean was happily married and her usual ploys wouldn't work. Any of the editors in the Silk Publishing empire would be glad to take on their CEO's baby sister, of course. The trick was in making the job offer appear legitimate.

  If the girl's article had been publishable, this all would be much easier. But Petra had managed to acquire a photocopy of the submission and it was not up to Hard Candy requirements. Who cared about some no-name artist with nothing going for her except that she'd temporarily engaged Julian's undiscriminating libido?

  Petra picked up her favorite tabloid, skimmed the headlines, then eagerly turned to the gossip pages. Would offering Nikki a job in her own department be too obvious? Probably so, but that was always an option. Petra didn't know why she hadn't thought of becoming friends with Julian's sisters before this. Unfortunately, she'd believed the hype on him and had underestimated his family devotion.

  With a superior air, she scanned the fashion do's-and-don'ts photos. Awful.

  Petra sniffed. Honestly. When she married Julian and gained access to the money and connections these socialites took for granted, she'd put them all to shame. They'd be the most glorious power couple in Manhattan. She could practically taste the accolades.

  She skipped down to the society column, and suddenly her world came to a screeching halt. There was a photo of Julian with that dreadful artist. Mia Somebody. Mia Nobody.

  It was a sniggly little photo from a museum benefit, too dark to distinguish many details and they hadn't even printed Mia's name, but a hot jealousy surged in Petra nevertheless. That would have been her on Julian's arm, if she hadn't jumped the gun on their relationship. She'd let him go without a fight, to sow more of his wild oats. But she'd been biding her time ever since, fully assured that, with her class and style, she'd be the perfect wife for an up-and-coming millionaire CEO. And one day soon, Julian would see the light.