by Roxie Odell
“Mmm…” she purred. “Is that a promise or a threat?”
“Both,” he said with a wink. “Brought you coffee.”
“Can’t wait,” she murmured against his lips.
“You sure are easy to please.” He smiled.
“You’re just so darn thoughtful,” she said, practically begging him for a kiss with her eyes.
“I know I am.”
“Conceited much?” she teased.
“No, just convinced.”
She sighed, righted her skirt, and sat straight against the seat of the truck. She fastened her seatbelt just as a second Titus Construction van pulled up. “Your boss is already here,” she said through the lowered window. “He’s in the back. He has my number if anything comes up.”
Thomas bristled. “You’re letting strange men have free run of your house? You don’t even know them.”
“Thomas,” she scolded with amusement, “don’t you go into people’s houses without really knowing them?”
“Yes, but—”
“Well, okay then,” she said, cutting his protest short. She leaned over and kissed his ear. “Please take me to work now,” she whispered. “I need to get the work day out of the way so I can come home and see you.”
“Will you come to my place tonight?” he asked, his face in hers. “Dinner?”
“I’d love that,” she replied.
Thomas placed his hand on her knee possessively as he pulled out into traffic.
Cheri sipped the coffee he made for her; it was warm and creamy, with just the right amount of sugar. She didn’t usually add sweetener to her morning mug, but the coffee he prepared for her was always as scrumptious and worth the indulging as he was. She felt a high again, just from being near him and having all his attention, and that dulled the awareness that he was making dibs on all of her time, first convincing her to play hooky, then commandeering her commute to work, and now planning dinner at his place.
“What are we going to have for dinner?” she asked.
He rubbed her thigh. “I make a pretty mean pork chop,” he said, with a hint of pride in his voice.
“Well, I am sure you know what to do with your meat,” she teased.
“Very funny,” he said, shifting in his seat.
“It does sound good, though. Can I make the salad?” she asked. “I make a wicked vinaigrette.”
“You’re on,” he said. “There’s a bread place right by your office. I’m gonna pick up a loaf. We’ll have chops, mashed potatoes, salad, and bread with soft butter—the works.”
“Are you trying to fatten me up?”
“Trust me, you’ll need the calories, my dear,” he said with a wicked grin of his own.
Cheri already had plans to spend her lunch hour shopping for something special to wear. She already had quite a wardrobe, but she wanted to go to a very exclusive lingerie shop in Georgetown so he would see her in something brand new, something he’d never seen her in before. “I’ll hold you to that.”
He pulled up in front of her office building. Their very nearness had them so aroused that they could have easily ditched work all over again and spent the whole day in bed. She snaked her arms around his big, strong neck and kissed him thoroughly before getting out of the truck. As she moved her hand to the door handle, he unfastened his seatbelt, ready to walk around and open the door for her like the gentleman he was.
“Let me,” she said softly, putting a hand on his leg to stop him. “You’ll tie up traffic.”
Without even thinking, he mumbled, “I’d like to tie you up instead.”
Cheri stared at him, blinking with wide eyes as his face turned beet-red.
“I, uh… I didn’t, um…” he stuttered.
“We can talk about it,” she whispered, then slid out of the truck. In the process, the hem of her skirt was pushed all the way up to her hips. She caught her reflection in the glass front of her office and realized she was in serious peril of being exposed, but she was quick to use his big truck door to shield herself and pull things back into place before anyone caught more than a peek.
“You okay there?” he asked.
“I guess I should have let you help me,” she said.
“Lesson learned,” he said with a smile.
Cheri grinned back at him, blew him a subtle kiss, then strutted into her building.
Chapter 8
Cheri welcomed every little task that piled into her in-box, because it made the time pass more quickly. Besides killing time, the good thing about working hard was that it would help to overshadow her being a little late coming back from lunch. No matter what she was working on, though, her mind was always in two places at once. She couldn’t wait till lunchtime, when she could hop in a cab and be whisked off to Georgetown and that little shop of pleasures.
The upscale, naughty store, Out of the Closet, was nestled among many other exclusive boutiques in the high-end part of town. She had never been there before, but every time she passed it caught her eye. In fact, no one she knew had ever confessed to shopping there, but a sparkle gleamed in many an eye whenever it was mentioned.
As she finally walked through the doors, Cheri was nervous. She was sure everyone in the store, including the clerk behind the counter, was far more skilled in the bedroom than she was, and she felt entirely out of place, like some kind of rookie walking into a pro locker room for the first time. Not only that, but she was fully certain that all the Georgetown pedestrians outside had seen her walk in. It only made matters worse that the shop personnel seemed like sharks spotting new blood in the water, with particularly predatory looks in their eyes as she glanced around to see where she wanted to explore first.
“May I help you?” asked one. “Do you have any questions?”
Cheri shook her head quietly, feeling a little vulnerable. “Just looking,” she said, almost in a whisper.
“Well, corsets are over there,” said the salesperson, pointing. “Fantasy and costumes are there. Toys and videos are over that way.”
It was Cheri’s chance to take a rare walk on the wild side, but she wasn’t sure she could go through with it. Sex with Thomas was already exciting and spontaneous. During the months since she had last spoken to him, he had replaced with unforgettable reality all the anonymous fantasies she’d ever had before she met him. Her every forbidden daydream evolved to a real-time hit, all starring him, now that he was in her life again, and she didn’t need props, bells, or whistles.
She cleared her throat, found her confidence, and announced, “I’d like to see your lingerie.”
The salesperson smiled. “We have plenty of that. It’s right over there, to the left.”
She sauntered over to the racks and perused the drawers, looking at all the laid-out corsets, every shade alluring and inviting and every style beautiful and romantic. She wanted to buy them all, but she settled on a color that complemented her suit.
Before she left, while she was in the process of paying for her purchase, one other item caught her eye, something that would be the game-changer: a sweet little trench coat. She had a raincoat already, but this one was more about hotness than functionality. Since it was still summer, the tag boasted a clearance price she simply could not pass up, so she stopped abruptly, left the cash register, and grabbed it. “This too, please,” she said with a grin.
“Very nice,” the clerk said as she rang up the order.
Cheri smiled as her items were placed carefully in a bag. Everyone knew the candy stripe scheme of Out of the Closet, so the bag wasn’t exactly anonymous; she was sure the vibrant red and white would draw the eye of anyone who saw her carrying it. Still, the vulnerability just added to the moment, a good kind of uncomfortable. Before the salesperson closed the bag, she tossed a jar in with her purchase.
Cheri put her hand down to stop her. “What is that?” she asked with some agitation, not wanting to be charged anything extra for something she didn’t want.
The salesperson smiled, dark mischi
ef dancing in her eyes. “It’s body glaze that tastes like brown sugar, our gift to you. Thank you for shopping at Out of the Closet.”
By six o’clock, a debate was raging in Cheri’s brain over whether she would or would not actually don the trench coat. Just the idea of wearing something so heavy and long-sleeved wasn’t so appealing in the lingering humidity, but she liked the idea of having it in her closet, even if it was for another place and time. She knew a walking out of the office in a trench coat and heels with satin peeking through would be an obvious indication that she was off to have some swing-from-the-chandelier sex, but she had to wonder if the thrill on Thomas’s face when he saw her in the getup would be worth the slight humiliation of taking that walk of shame past the cubicles. It won’t be the same if I just take it with me and change into it when I get there, she reasoned.
The question was answered when she looked out her boss’s window and saw black storm clouds blanketing the sky, almost entirely blotting out the sunlight. She was relieved to know that no one was going to be paying attention to what she was wearing, because they’d be far too busy running for cover. In fact, people were ditching their desks already, hoping to beat the storm home.
Cheri freshened up in the office shower. She stepped under the hot spray of water, careful to avoid her hair. After, she smoothed on the brown sugar body glaze, and it melted into her showered, heated skin and smelled amazing. Ooh, Thomas is gonna love this. It’s probably laced with mind-altering pheromones, she thought, smiling to herself as she imagined him eating her up like candy.
Finally, she stepped into her corset and heels and admired herself in the full-length mirror, feeling incredibly confident. She felt like a truly beautiful woman, and there was nothing arrogant or prideful in it; it was merely a wonderful awareness.
Cheri put on the smoking little trench coat, the perfect outerwear for the downpour so suddenly unleashed on the city. She tugged the yellow clearance tag off and took a moment to admire herself once again. “This is gonna be one fun night,” she said to her reflection, then laughed as she pictured herself dicing up lettuce and tomatoes in that little black raincoat and corset—or out of it.
Chapter 9
The cab dropped Cheri off at Thomas’s doorstep. Rain drummed so loudly onto the car roof that it was difficult to hear the cabbie when he announced what her fare was. She paid him quickly, tipped him well, then dashed out the door and up the uneven surface of Thomas’s front walk, careful atop the four-inch stilettos she’d opted to change into. She held her purse over her head to preserve her makeup. Her hair and shoes were soaked, but that didn’t matter; the overall effect of her new, sexy costume would be a powerful enough poison to knock him right off his feet when he greeted her at the door.
Without any forethought, Cheri blurted, “Hey, sorry to bother you, mister, but my car broke down about a mile or so away. May I come in and borrow your phone?”
Thomas grinned suddenly, clearly happy to play along. “Please do,” he said seductively. “You poor thing. You must be very, very wet.”
Right on cue, there was a dramatic thunderclap, and Cheri scurried into the house. As she did, she lost her footing and fell, right into Thomas.
He caught her securely in one arm, then closed the door with the other. He turned her around, remaining close to her but still playing the stranger. “May I take your coat, Miss?” he whispered, his voice uncharacteristically trembling, as if he was weakened just by the sight of it.
“Yes please,” she replied sweetly, smiling up at him.
Her hair, wet with rain, tangled on the collar. He lifted it aside and paused to kiss her neck. Cheri froze, rushed with an erotic wave that pushed through her, lighting her up. A cry raked her throat, and she felt Thomas shaking.
“Damn, you taste and smell just…delicious,” he remarked.
She unbelted her trench coat and struggled to focus as she unfastened the buttons, her mind slipping in and out of blissful unreality. His hands cupped her breasts, while his mouth still worked at the most sensitive places on her neck.
“I think you just burned my dinner,” he murmured.
“Oh no,” she said apologetically. “We can wait if—”
“The hell we can,” he interrupted. “You’re too beautiful,” he declared, tossing her wet raincoat over a nearby chair.
“That’ll ruin a wooden chair,” she said, taking into consideration the fact that Thomas’s home was well appointed with furniture from the period in which the house was constructed. Each piece was perfectly restored to like-new condition, and the last thing she wanted was for her sexy, soaked coat to destroy the finish.
“If it does, it does,” he said with a nonchalant shrug. “It’ll be the most beautiful piece in the house.”
“But—” she started to protest.
“Shh,” he said. “One second. Don’t move.” Then, with that, he left her to dash to the kitchen.
Cheri listened as he flipped and turned the knobs of the stove. By the time he returned, she’d moved her coat and was bent over the chair, with her palms on the seat, flexing her backside for his viewing pleasure.
“Mercy,” he said, stopping dead in his tracks.
She turned around and sat, crossed her legs suggestively, then stretched them up in the air and pointed at them, like a pinup on a calendar in the back of a greasy auto shop. Thomas just stood there, enjoying the show, and that seemed to empower her performance. She ended the display by facing him squarely, parting her knees, and resting her feet on the rung of the chair.
Looking as if he might weep, he stepped toward her. She reached out to him, and he sank to his haunches, kissed her mouth, then scooped her breasts that were perfectly harbored in the cups of her underwired corset. His tongue sought her delicate globes, and he suckled each nipple until it was erect and pointing.
Cheri gripped his head, and wisps of his hair rose between her fingers. He did not let up but sat back and placed his warm lips between her legs. He searched and sought, tasting her desire for himself as it flowed from her body.
She lifted her knees and draped her bare, smooth legs over his massive, broad shoulders. He reached for her thigh and strummed it with his fingertips. Tingles traveled through to her middle, coiling, tightening, and agitating as she grinded against his lips. Passion created an urgency in her. She wanted him, needed him. She was enjoying the moment beyond madness, but she craved the culmination. Everything in her demanded release.
Thomas flicked his tongue on her sex, tormenting her while his hands held her in place. She was forced to absorb the full impact of his pleasuring. Reflexively, her thighs squeezed, tightening as he licked. Her breathing heightened, and the room spun. Her heart pounded, beating in her ears, competing with the thunder that was crashing against the house. She moaned and begged, her voice reaching a high crescendo as her pleasure swelled to the point of eruption.
Thomas lifted her and circled so they could switch places. She gripped the back of the chair and lowered down onto him. He impaled her fully, and she pushed off the floor with her foot again and again, bouncing on him.
He stiffened and threw his head back to face the ceiling, overcome with the sweetness of it all. She swiveled on his lap, pleasuring them both. Her rhythm was soon jagged, so worked up she almost could not perform. She moved and faltered, shivering with arousal and moving again.
Finally, Thomas gripped her hips and drove into her like a jackhammer, with such force that the chair scooted and skidded across the hardwood floor. Cheri released her foot and let her body rock on him. The combination of their movements was intoxicating. Her eyelids fluttered as she felt the transformation of orgasm overcoming her.
She clenched around his erection, strangling his manhood with her body as he stroked her. He growled as she held him that way, a dark and thrilling noise like the cry of a big jungle cat. Cheri trembled as he pumped into her so fiercely, so sure of himself. Her breasts jiggled with his power, but so steeped in rapture was she that she
couldn’t have cared less. She braced herself for the huge wave of orgasm that was about to hit.
Thomas pressed his thumb between her legs as he rocked her, sending her over the edge. At that point, she came undone. She went limp but spasmed uncontrollably. From inside out, she seized, pleasure reverberating each time she collided.
“That’s it, baby,” he praised her, still going steady.
He wrapped his arms around her thin waist and lifted and lowered her. Each sweet friction drove her to a new level of pleasure. Then, just when she thought it couldn’t possibly be any more intense, he slowed his pace, taking his wonderful, tortuous rhythm back a bit. Cheri regarded his face; it looked as if he was holding off, willing himself not to cum. He seemed to disappear behind closed eyes, just hiding and waiting. About a minute passed before he picked up his pace again.
He grabbed her hand and placed it on her private place, then encouraged her to move it. She understood, and as he thrust more purposefully into her, she brought back to life the thunderous orgasm she had just enjoyed.
As Thomas let go, rocking the house with his cries of passion, Cheri made herself climax again, eager to join him in that ecstasy. The second wave was far more intense, almost too sensitive, and she experienced it fully, till there was no stifling her wailing.
Cheri had never had sex like that before; nothing had even come close for her. Each time Thomas pleasured her body it seemed to redefine passion and ecstasy for her, pushing far beyond her wildest imagination. Other than a few hot clothes, they didn’t need all the accoutrements. Their magnetism and chemistry were enough, and his very touch was all she needed to come alive. Together, they were perfection.
They lingered, holding one another and kissing gently. Thomas took her hand and led them up to the master bath. They enjoyed a hot shower and wrapped up in his and hers terrycloth robes, the perfect attire for the succulent dinner he’d made.
Cheri shredded lettuce, chopped a few tomatoes and radishes and carrots, then mixed her vinaigrette. As much as she enjoyed watching cooking shows and looking up recipes, she was really a one-trick pony in the kitchen. In fact, her salad dressing was the sum of her culinary repertoire, but it was remarkable, the perfect balance of balsamic vinegar, olive oil, and Dijon mustard. Thomas, on the other hand, was a great cook, so they made the perfect pair. Fortunately, the pork chop dinner was not wrecked in the least because of the erotic delay.
