MYSTERY LOVER

by Vicky Lewis Thompson

  He could barely breath. "Good?" he said hoarsely. As if in league with her response, the rain eased up.

  "Oh, yeah." She drew in a long, trembling breath and lifted her head from his chest. Then she slipped his hand out from between her legs.

  He wanted to bury his face down there. "God, but you smell terrific right now."

  "You mean my cologne?"

  "No, I don't mean your cologne." He was so hot for her, it was a wonder he didn't spontaneously combust.

  "Ah." She lifted his hand and waved it beneath his nose. "You mean this?"

  He groaned. "Let me taste you."

  "Not now. Maybe later I'll let you," she said in her low, sultry voice. "If you're a good boy."

  "You'll be amazed at how good I can be."

  "I hope so. Because now I'm going to take you back in the bedroom and have my way with you."

  He nearly lost it right then and there.

  * * *

  Chapter 5

  «^»

  B.J. hadn't planned that first maneuver. She'd always had a practical streak, and she'd decided to greet Jonas naked because she didn't want to fool with undressing once he was there. She'd be far too busy for that. Originally she'd intended to lead him straight back to the candlelit bedroom and gradually let him realize that she wasn't wearing anything but a smile.

  Then she'd opened the door to find him standing there blindfolded and eager. Sensual images had bombarded her, jolting her with an awareness of her own power. Leading him inside by the hand, into the love nest she'd prepared for him, had been an erotic experience in itself. The puppet and puppeteer thing had popped into her mind, and her imagination and libido had directed the action from there. The rhythm of the rain on the roof hadn't hurt, either.

  All day she'd worried about being nervous, but the blindfold took care of that – the blindfold and his belief that she was someone else. She could never have dared any of this as herself, although now she realized a sexual adventurer lived within her soul. At least for tonight, she would let that adventurer out to explore.

  She guided him down the short hallway to the bedroom where scented votive candles would allow her to see, and Jonas to breathe in the aroma of vanilla. Keely had once told her that vanilla was a sexually stimulating scent, and lo and behold, the hardware store sold vanilla candles in tall glass containers. They must have stocked them for the tourists, because B.J. couldn't imagine any of the ranchers buying them.

  She'd bought ten. Her old friend Henry had been working the cash register this afternoon, and she'd told him she was getting an early start on Christmas. The feather duster had caused no comment, fortunately.

  At Millie's Crafts she'd used the same starting-early-on-Christmas story to explain the five yards of red velvet cord and two red silk scarves. Nobody at the Mini-Mart had asked her about the can of whipped cream or the bottle of cooking oil. The whipped cream was in a bucket of ice next to the bed, and the oil, flavored with a dash of cherry syrup, sat on the nightstand.

  She'd also brought her portable CD player after finding a disk Keely had left behind that was specifically labeled Seduction. The mellow saxophone was the final touch.

  Well, up until now. Having Jonas standing in the middle of the bedroom, his breathing ragged and an erection pushing at the crotch of his jeans was the absolutely final touch. She had caused that erection to appear and she loved knowing that.

  She led him over to a straight-backed chair in the corner of the room. "Here's a chair. I want you to sit down and take off your boots and socks, so we don't have to fool with them later."

  He edged down to the chair cautiously, but once he was sure of his position he took off his boots quickly and dropped them to the floor. Then he stripped off his socks and tossed them aside. "Now what?"

  She made a mental note to suck those sexy toes before he left tonight. "Stand up and undress for me."

  He swallowed. "You don't want to … help?"

  "No. I want to lie on the bed and watch."

  "You're just going to lie there and watch me?"

  She stretched out on the bed, sliding her flushed body over the cool sheet. "Maybe not. Maybe I'll touch myself while I watch." She had no idea where these outrageous statements were coming from. She'd never talked that way, but she loved the effect it had on Jonas.

  He began to quiver. "I guess you know what it does to me, when I imagine something like that."

  This bad girl behavior came more naturally than she ever would have believed. "I can see what it does to you," she said in a husky murmur. "But I want to be able to see better. I want to see how hard you are, how much you want me."

  His hand went to his belt buckle.

  "Shirt first."

  He paused and reached for the snaps at his wrists. After popping them open, he quickly undid the top snap on his shirt.

  "Go slower. Make it last a while." She wanted him naked now but exercising her power over him was its own kind of aphrodisiac.

  He took a deep breath and slowed down, unfastening the snaps in a lazy rhythm. "Better?"

  "Much." She began to tremble with anticipation. And as she'd hoped, the rain began to pelt the roof again, heightening the mood.

  "What are you doing now?" he asked in a voice roughened by desire.

  She moistened her finger and drew it around her sensitive aureole. "Playing with my nipple."

  He sucked in a breath. "Are you going to let me do that?"

  "We'll see."

  "You're driving me insane, you know." He dragged the tails of his shirt from the waistband of his jeans.

  "Do you want to change anything that's happening?"

  "No. But I've never … I've never had a woman direct me. It's…"

  "Wildly sexy?"

  "Yeah. Yeah, it is."

  "I want you to remember tonight." Being the mystery lover he'd never forget would be some sort of compensation, she thought.

  "I'll remember." He shrugged out of his shirt and dropped it to the floor.

  She'd seen him shirtless hundreds of times. Whenever she'd been certain he wouldn't notice, she'd admired the powerful breadth of his shoulders, the dark hair sprinkled in a triangular pattern on his broad chest, his sepia-colored nipples hidden beneath.

  She'd seen him grimy, sweaty, even bruised from a fall. But she'd never seen him like this, his chest heaving with excitement, a fine sheen of perspiration making his skin glow in the candlelight. The rain beat harder on the tin roof.

  Her glance moved down to his flat belly ridged with muscle, and lower, to the belt buckle he'd unhooked and the metal button of his jeans that he'd already slipped through the buttonhole. Her breathing slowed and a bead of moisture slid between her breasts.

  "What are you doing now?" His voice quivered.

  Watching you. But she wanted to continue taunting him with what he couldn't see. "I just put my hand between my thighs."

  He moaned.

  "It feels good." And it did. Incredible. She stroked lightly, following the rhythm of the rain, going for pleasure and not orgasm while she waited for him to pull that zipper down.

  The zipper rasped and the denim parted.

  Oh Lord. Even her most erotic fantasies hadn't prepared her for the sight of his unzipped jeans and the skimpy black briefs straining to hold him. She cleared her throat. "Nice."

  "Do you want me to … take off the briefs … when I take off the jeans?"

  "No. Just the jeans. I'll take off the briefs. When I'm ready." She was totally ready now. But she'd wanted to draw this out in ways he'd never experienced before. This night would he burned into his memory forever.

  He shoved the jeans down and stepped out of them.

  She took it all in – the ripple of his thigh muscles, the firm perfection of his calves, and, most of all, the bulge between his thighs that she'd need both hands to cradle.

  He stood before her, a blindfolded Greek god who had surrendered himself to whatever she had in mind. Maybe she'd never find a man who measure
d up to Jonas. Maybe she'd settle for less, or maybe she'd never marry at all, but at least she would have this night with the man of her dreams. She doubted many women could claim that.

  She slid off the bed and came to stand in front of him. "Take my hand and I'll lead you." She put her hand in his.

  He gripped her hand tightly. "I don't know how long I can hold out. I'm right on the edge now."

  Her pulse raced as she realized that the slender thread of control she was using to command him could snap at any time. All he had to do was whip off the blindfold and end the game. Then she would be revealed.

  "What I'm thinking," he continued as he struggled to speak normally, "is that if I can spend the whole night, then it won't matter, because I'll have more time to—"

  "I'm afraid you can't spend the whole night." She'd tried not to panic. The longer he stayed, the greater the chance he'd find out who she was. Besides, she'd never be able to concoct a story that would explain her being gone that long.

  "When do I have to leave?"

  "I can let you stay another hour."

  "That's all?"

  "Yes."

  A muscle worked in his jaw. "Then I'll just have to hold out as long as I can."

  "I'll help you. When you think you're about to come, tell me. I'll back off."

  "Sarah, I've been about to come ever since yesterday in the cave."

  "Then I guess we'll test your stamina, won't we?" She tugged on his hand and drew him over to the bed. "And Jonas, you understand the blindfold must stay in place at all times."

  "Even afterward?"

  "Especially afterward."

  "I'll bet you have a birthmark. I can live with that. I can't imagine that anything about you would be a problem."

  "No, I don't have a birthmark." She searched for a workable explanation. "I'm usually very shy." There. It was even the truth.

  "I don't believe you."

  "Oh, but I am. Your blindfold works like magic for me, setting free the sensuous person inside." Amazing how well the truth served her cause. "If you took it off, that person who excites you so much would disappear. I love letting her out to play." She ran the tip of her finger over his lower lip. "Please don't ruin this for either of us." His mouth was like velvet. She wanted him so.

  He took a shaky breath and his tone gentled. "I get it. You're an artist, and you put all your sexual feelings into your work. But I could teach you to be that sexual person with me, even when I'm not wearing a blindfold. Just knowing that side of you exists and comes out in your work should give you courage. Please. Let's try."

  "No. If you push me, I'll send you back out the door now."

  "You fascinate me." A note of desperation crept into his voice. "I want to know you better. I want to teach you how to—"

  "I'll send you home this minute, Jonas. I will. And I'm warning you, if you try to contact me later, I'll call the sheriff."

  "The sheriff? Listen, I only want to—"

  She lowered her voice to a sensuous murmur. "But if you'll be a good boy and lie down on the bed, I'll give you more pleasure than you dreamed possible, as long as you leave that blindfold on."

  He groaned. "Okay. I'll play this your way. I have to. Just don't send me home. I need you so much."

  "Then let me give you what you need," she whispered, urging him down to the bed as the rain pounded on the roof. "That's it. Stretch out. Like that. Oh, yes, just like that." She ran her hand down his chest and stopped at the waistband of his briefs. "Would you like me to take these off?"

  "Yes. Lord, yes."

  "Soon." She leaned down and placed a kiss on his navel while inhaling the musky scent of his arousal. They'd had a close call, but now she was back in control.

  * * *

  Jonas lay there in an agony of anticipation. He'd been thinking of loosening the blindfold, of letting it slip. He wanted to see her face, wanted to look into her eyes. He was beginning to long for a greater connection between them than just the mating of bodies.

  But she'd confessed how shy she was, and after his first disbelief, he knew it was true. He could tell by the ring of sincerity in her voice, and besides, it was the only explanation that made sense.

  Here he'd imagined her to be far more experienced than he was, and she was far less. That excited him even more. She was playing out fantasies that had only existed in her mind, which meant he was probably the first man she'd ever done this sort of thing with.

  Maybe, at long last, he'd found his dream girl. And she wouldn't allow him to really know her. Still, there had to be a way. He wouldn't let her detour him forever, and he didn't believe she'd call the sheriff on him. Besides, he knew the sheriff, whereas she was a stranger in town.

  "I want you to enjoy all sorts of different sensations tonight," she said. Then she brushed something feathery over his mouth and down his throat.

  His nerve endings began to sing in response. She trailed the softness over his nipples and they tingled in a way he never remembered before. As he breathed in the scent that he would always associate with her, she brushed lightly over his rib cage, drawing ever closer to his primary focus. The sound of the rain blended with the sensuous notes of the saxophone.

  When she drew the feathers over his briefs he gripped a handful of sheet in both hands. She teased the inside of his thighs, and he'd never realized how sensitive he was there. Maybe it was the prolonged foreplay that had caused every square inch of his body to become an erogenous zone.

  "Don't tickle my feet," he warned. "I can't take that."

  "I know," she murmured.

  "You do? How did you know that?"

  "Uh … I guessed. Most people—"

  "Wait. You said you knew. Have you been asking questions about me?"

  She paused. "You have a lot of former girlfriends around here."

  "You talked to them? What did they say?"

  "Well—"

  "No, don't tell me. Sarah, listen. Maybe I haven't been into commitment before, but I've never met anyone like you. If you talked to my girlfriends you probably think you could never trust me with your shy nature. You think I'd hurt you in the end. But I—" He felt her fingers at the waistband of his briefs and his brain stalled. He tried to remember what he'd been saying. "You can trust me, because—"

  "Lift your hips, Jonas."

  Whatever he'd meant to say lodged in his throat. The moment was here. He did as she asked and she pulled the briefs down over his knees, over his ankles, over his feet.

  She drew in a quick breath. "Will you look at that bad boy," she murmured.

  He was gratified by her response. Typical man that he was, he loved her admiration. But more than that, he wanted her trust, and that was new for him. He'd never worried about gaining a woman's trust. It hadn't mattered before.

  Then she used that feathery thing, stroking him until he was gasping from breath.

  "You're beautiful," she said softly.

  "I'm desperate."

  "Want me to stop?"

  "Just … give me a moment." He clenched his jaw and fought the urge to come. The rain pouring down outside didn't help matters.

  The mattress shifted and she left the bed. Rustling sounds drifted to him, and then she was back, looping something soft around his wrist. She snugged it up.

  He wasn't so sure about this. "What are you doing?"

  "Tell me you've never imagined this." In seconds she'd immobilized his arm.

  His heartbeat thudded in his ears. He tested the velvet rope and decided if necessary he could break it. And he had fantasized about something like this, although he'd never acted it out with anyone.

  When his other wrist was tied, his throat grew dry with excitement. "How do I know that I can trust you?"

  "Use your instincts." She leaned over him, her breasts swaying against his chest as she dropped a kiss on his mouth.

  "I dare you to do that again."

  "Later." She moved away and circled his ankle with another velvet rope. "Do your instincts tell
you to be afraid?"

  "No. My instincts tell me … this is crazy … they tell me I've known you all my life."

  She grew still. "But you haven't."

  "Maybe I have, in my mind. Maybe you're the woman I've been looking for. I've been surrounded by cowgirls, ranching women. None of them captured my imagination like you have, Sarah. Maybe I just needed to meet this sensuous artist, a shy woman who molds nude statues and lives an unbelievable fantasy life."

  She tied his other ankle. "I'm not the one for you." Her voice sounded funny, sort of choked up.

  "Don't say that. Don't give up so quick. Don't – oh, Lord." He lost his train of thought as she began to rub his leg with a slippery piece of material. Silk, he decided, just like his blindfold, and it created the most amazingly erotic friction. And as she rubbed, she began to suck his toes. One by one. And the rain kept coming down.

  "Sarah … Sarah, stop."

  She paused. "Too much?"

  "Oh, yeah." He pulled against his restraints while he struggled not to erupt. "It's almost as if you're sucking on my…"

  "That's the idea." She dragged the scarf gently up his thigh and looped it around his penis. "Would you like the real thing?"

  It was all he could think about. And yet she might finish him off in no time, and this wonderful event would be over.

  "You're afraid you won't last." She drew the silk back and forth slowly.

  He clenched his fists and squeezed his eyes shut behind the blindfold as the lazy movement of the silk teased him right to the brink. "Yep."

  "Maybe I can cool you down a little."

  He couldn't imagine an ice-water bath would work on an erection this determined. Then with a whoosh of sound, something soft and cool nestled over the tip of his penis. He cried out in surprise.

  Then he recognized the sweet aroma of whipped cream and nearly passed out from eagerness. But he'd never make it through that. "You're going to … lick it off?"

  "Mmm-hmm."

  "Sarah, it'll be over then."

  "Mmm-hmm." Her wet, warm tongue swiped away a layer of the whipped cream.