by Heidi Betts
His nipples were tight little beads at the centers of perfectly round brown areolas. Sexy circles over a mostly smooth, broad chest that tapered to a flat, narrow stomach.
Sliding her hands down the insides of his arms, she toyed with the piercing tips, first rolling them beneath the pads of her thumbs, then the palms of her hands. Letting her fingers wander off to explore other parts of his chest, she replaced them with her mouth. Kissing, licking, biting lightly before using her tongue again to wash away any possible sting.
His breaths were coming in shorter pants now, his body stirring under her sensual ministrations. Beneath her breasts, his belly went concave as his diaphragm tightened.
Her own nipples pebbled at the knowledge that she was turning him on. He might not have expected to land in her bed, but he was going to enjoy himself-of that she had no doubt.
She kissed her way down his sternum, her breath whispering over the light streak of hair that led from his navel to his groin. His penis was fully erect now, responding to her every touch and caress, and hungry to be freed from the confinement of his briefs-an appeal she was more than happy to satisfy.
Pushing them down to join the tangle of denim near his ankles, she shifted to straddle his knees rather than his thighs. It was a shame he was on his back and had to stay that way for the duration because she would have liked to see his rear end, maybe give it a squeeze or take a nice, ripe bite out of it the way she used to.
He’d always had a world-class butt. The kind you could bounce quarters off of-something she knew as fact because she’d tried it a time or two while they were married. He’d put up a fight, acted embarrassed by her fascination with his backside, but had eventually given in.
Forever after, when he was feeling particularly frisky, he’d hand her a quarter and ask if she wanted to put it to good use. Only once, when she’d been mad at him and he’d been arrogantly pressing his luck to begin with, had she threatened to do more with the coin than simply bounce it off his tight ass.
Then again, the view from the front wasn’t exactly a scene out of Fright Night. There were no two ways about it-Gage Marshall was a god. An Adonis in blue jeans and tight black tees. Or in this case, nothing but his birthday suit, a few gorgeous tattoos, and the long, feathery restraints wound around his wrists and ankles.
She took in all of that, every plane and angle, every bulge of muscle and inch of sun-bronzed skin. It was ridiculous for her to be nervous about making love to him considering how many times she’d been with him in the past, but that didn’t keep cocoons of anxiety from unfurling low in her belly.
Maybe it had been too long.
Maybe she’d been missing and wanting him all this time more than even she had realized.
That wasn’t something she particularly wanted to contemplate at the moment, however. It was too deep, too raw, and if she hadn’t figured out her feelings for him in the last year and a half they’d been divorced or the months before when she’d been torn over whether to file or not, then she wasn’t likely to have some amazing epiphany in the next five minutes.
So she pushed that aside, tamped it down and buried it away once again, bringing her attention back to the matter at hand. And speaking of hands…
She gently cupped his testicles, cradling them in her palm, exploring their soft contours. Gage was already tense, his long frame rigid with anticipation. But if possible, he stiffened even more, every muscle drawing tight beneath her touch.
His cock twitched and she used her other hand to stroke it from base to tip and back again. She heard him suck in a breath and lifted her head to find him watching her through dark, heavy-lidded eyes. Neither of them said a word.
Holding his gaze, she lowered her mouth and took him inside. His teeth clicked together and the tendons of his throat jutted out in stark relief. Between her lips, he burned, he throbbed, and she tasted the evidence of his arousal against her tongue.
She would have liked to stay there, licking, sucking, driving him crazy and doing her best to make him come in her mouth. But she wasn’t here for sexual pleasure. Or not only sexual pleasure.
Giving him a blow job, as enjoyable as it might be for both of them, wasn’t going to get her any closer to her goal. And there was no time-or sperm-to waste.
With a last long, slow swirl of her tongue, she released him and rose, shifting so that she hovered just above his upward-pointing erection.
She didn’t have to check her own readiness; she was already wet, almost embarrassingly so. Wrapping her fingers around the base of his erection, she centered the large, plum-shaped head at her opening and slowly lowered herself down his entire length.
He was big, filling her completely, and she bit her lip while her body stretched to accommodate him. It didn’t hurt exactly, but she’d been celibate for so long that there was a modicum of discomfort, a moment when she needed to remind her-self to relax and let him in.
He’d had that effect on her the first couple of times they’d been together, too, she remembered. It had taken a while for her to get used to the sensation of having him inside her, but she’d liked it. He’d hit her in all the right spots, the same as he was doing now.
“You don’t want me to stop, do you?” she asked, her voice shaky and breathless and not much louder than a whisper.
She rose up on her knees, letting him slide partially free. The friction alone sent the air stuttering from her lungs and she nearly whimpered. Gage, she was satisfied to notice, curled his fingers into fists, pulling slightly at the ties that held his wrists.
“Untie me,” he rasped.
Her hair bounced when she shook her head. Gliding back down, her internal muscles squeezing and thrumming around him, she barely managed to say, “I like it this way. And you do, too. I can tell.”
She continued to move on him. Small, almost imperceptible motions that brought her up and down, forward and back, side to side. She could feel him flexing beneath her, bucking in time with her movements.
Given his strength and bulk, Jenna had no doubt that if he really, truly wanted to break free, he could. She’d wrapped the feathery boas around his ankles and wrists several times, making them as strong as she could without cutting of his circulation, but they were still just strips of yarn, and he was six-feet-three-inches, two-hundred-plus-pounds of pure muscle.
He was fighting the urge, though, she could see it in his eyes. Whatever he thought of her little game and the tricks it had taken to get him here, he was more interested in letting her finish what she’d started.
Thank goodness, because at this point, she just might cry herself if he left her.
Pressing her mouth to his, she kissed him, startled when he kissed her back.
What this man could do to her without the use of his hands she suspected other men couldn’t do with a dozen.
When their mouths parted, they were both out of breath, and she was pretty sure she knew what his answer was going to be. She asked anyway, her lips continuing to brush against his.
“Do you want me to stop, Gage? Or do you want me to keep doing what I’m doing? Riding you. Fucking you.”
His cock flexed inside her, showing its approval of both her language and her continued gyrations on his lap.
For the most part, she was a good girl. Not quite Pollyanna, but close. She swore only occasionally in the presence of close acquaintances and was exceptionally careful of her word choices when it came to working with her young students.
But sex with Gage didn’t count. With him, she’d always been a little wild and a lot uninhibited. He liked it when she talked dirty… and she liked it because of the response it evoked in him.
A muscle ticced in his jaw. His molars ground together. He continued to clench and unclench his fists where they were bound above him. When he spoke, his voice was sandpaper rough, but firm, and she knew there would be no turning back.
“Don’t stop,” he grated. His body echoed his sentiments, hips lifting to spur her on.
; She smiled and kissed him again, letting her breasts rub seductively along his chest, and purposely gave him a small Kegel exercise that made him groan.
“Good answer,” she murmured before pushing herself up on his chest and into a sitting position.
Knees locked tight on either side of his thighs, she slowly began to angle her hips so that she moved forward and back on his hard length at the same time she rose and fell just slightly.
“And it feels even better,” she told him. Her hands were still flat at his waist, and she used them for leverage as she increased the speed of her movements. Just a bit. Just enough to add to the friction.
Gage licked his lips and swallowed, Adam’s apple bobbing like a fishing lure in his throat.
“I forgot how big you are. How you fill me like no one else ever could.”
His pelvis rose up at the same time hers came down and she gasped, biting her bottom lip to keep from crying out.
“And how right it feels.”
Her eyes slid closed as sensations continued to swamp her. Oh, how she’d like to believe she was in control. That she could maintain control no matter what.
But she wasn’t a fool, and she couldn’t lie to herself, even if she tried.
With Gage, she was never in control. Not entirely. Not when he touched her, kissed her, moved inside of her.
“I forgot how good this feels. How good you feel.”
He gave a low grunt and thrust his hips upward in a quick, stabbing motion as high as he could go. “Then for Christ’s sake, speed it up,” he growled.
A flare of heat burst low in her belly and spread out to every extremity. She wished he would do that again but was afraid if he did, it would all be over too soon.
He hadn’t been inside her for five full minutes yet, but already she was teetering on the edge. Completion was right there, within reach, and she could get there in a blink if she put her mind to it.
But then it would be done, and she’d really rather make it last. Maybe not all night… after all, she was kind of hoping for an encore later, if he was up to it and the boas held… but something that lasted more than five or ten minutes would be nice. If only to give her a longer memory to carry with her through the rest of her life.
“You don’t want to rush, do you?” Without even trying, she sounded as though she were channeling Marilyn Monroe.
Gage’s voice, however, was anything but soft, anything but yielding. “I want you to finish what you started. Finish what you dragged me in here and tied me up to do.”
A spurt of guilt thumped through her heart and caused it to skip a beat. “Please don’t be angry,” she said. Later he would be furious and demand answers, but until then…
Trailing her hands from his waist, she let them slide along her own thighs, then inside to lightly skim the triangle of dark curls surrounding him, over her belly and up to her breasts. They weren’t large, but they were perky and Gage had always claimed to find them fascinating.
He’d also liked to watch her touch herself, and she did so now, feeling his gaze lock on her like a heat-seeking missile. On her fingers where they cupped the small globes. On her thumbs as they coasted over her hard, raspberry nipples, making them pucker even more.
His chest rose and fell with his sharp, shallow breaths, and he was struggling beneath her now. Not to get free, but to get her to move, to drive deeper, to bring them both to a fast, fiery climax.
Bringing her right hand to her mouth, she licked the pads of her thumb and forefinger, then returned them to the same nipple to roll it between the damp digits. “Tell me what you want,” she ordered, her voice little more than a lacy wisp of breath. “Tell me what you want me to do.”
Knit 5
Gage knew exactly what he wanted. He wanted Jenna to untie his hands and let him touch her. Let him cup those delectable tits himself and lean up to take a ripe, pebbled tip into his mouth. Let him grip her hips while she rode him, helping to set the pace, moving her just the way he needed to bring them both to a crashing, violent climax.
He didn’t know what the hell was going on here, but one thing was for sure-a band of South American guerrillas armed to the teeth and threatening unspeakable torture couldn’t get him to call a halt to the delectable pleasures Jenna’s body was offering right this second.
She shifted slightly and his balls tightened. He locked his jaw and dug his heels into the mattress to keep from coming off the bed.
Later, he’d spank her ass-and not in the way he’d like to at the moment, which would heighten the sexual anticipation already bouncing off the walls.
But for now, he had every intention of taking her up on her erotic invitation.
“Touch yourself,” he rasped.
Her eyes sparkled and her mouth turned up in a self-satisfied grin, making her look for all the world like a devilish little pixie up to no good.
“But I am touching myself,” she replied, tugging at her nipples as she continued to bounce lightly on his lap, just enough to make him sweat through his teeth.
Air puffed from his lungs in short, heavy bursts and every muscle in his body strained toward her. The ties at his wrists and ankles chafed his skin where he’d struggled against them, because he couldn’t not move. He couldn’t not pull at the restraints that kept him from being able to touch his ex-wife the way he wanted to. Needed to, dammit.
His throat went desert dry as he studied her, took her in from the top of her head to her knees braced on the bed and straddling him.
Shit, she was beautiful. She always had been.
From the first moment he saw her, he’d been half in love and all in lust with her. He’d been a beat cop then, out on a routine patrol. Her car had been pulled to the side of the road with a flat.
She’d been in the process of calling Triple A, but that wouldn’t have given him an excuse to spend a little time with her, so he’d offered to change the tire himself. He’d ruined his uniform and hadn’t been as smooth in the process as he might have liked, but it did the trick.
Jenna chatted with him the entire time, and he’d quickly learned that she was a grade-school teacher on the way to pick up supplies for an end-of-the-year pizza party she’d promised her students as a reward for a district-wide recycling campaign she’d instituted and they’d helped to spearhead. It had also given him the perfect opportunity to show his interest in the youth of America… an interest she’d jumped on, soon asking if he might be willing to talk to her class the following school year.
Oh, yeah, he’d been willing. He wasn’t a big fan of public speaking, especially to a room full of kids who were either picking their noses in boredom or making faces in an attempt to distract him. But for the chance to impress her and to see her again, he’d have eaten live African cockroaches.
By the time he’d finished replacing her tire, he had her phone number and a date for lunch the next week so they could “discuss topics for his talk with her classroom.”
They’d ended up seeing each other a lot more than just that once throughout the summer. He’d discovered that she liked to knit and had mentioned the knitting group he knew Grace and Ronnie attended, which was how the three women had become such close friends.
And when the school year started, he almost spent more time talking to her class than he did on duty. By the time Jenna took the lid off the cookie jar and let him into her pants, he’d lectured her group of third-graders on everything from playground safety to saying no to drugs.
They’d also heard her call him by his given name so often that he became “Officer Gage” and started to get recognized by the eight-year-olds on the street and introduced to their parents. Many times as “the police officer who kisses Miss Langan when he doesn’t think we’re watching.”
It had all been worth it, though. More than worth it. Before the end of the following school year, Gage had known he wanted to spend the rest of his life with Jenna and had popped the question.
And from that, they’d come to this.
>
No matter how he cut it, this was the good stuff, but it wasn’t happily married good stuff. It wasn’t She’s mine and no other man will ever put his hands on her unless he wants to lose them good stuff.
Even as long as he’d had to get over that, it still pissed him off, but he was willing to suspend his annoyance. Just for tonight. Just for a while.
After that, all bets were off.
“Put your hand between your legs,” he ordered, feeling his temperature continue to rise at the sight of her fondling her breasts.
She continued to wear the cat-that-ate-the-canary smile that turned his insides all hot and molten.
“Like this?”
With deliberate slowness, she let the fingers of one hand fall away from her nipple and trail down her front, over her midriff, around her navel, and into the springy black curls at the apex of her thighs. When she got there, she stopped, simply letting her hand rest there, not moving.
“Now what, Gage? What do you want me to do now?”
“You know what,” he ground from between tightly clenched teeth.
She shook her head, sending the short wisps of her dark hair dancing. “I don’t. You have to tell me.”
His heart beat against his ribcage like a battering ram, and the muscles in his shoulders and forearms bunched with the effort not to bust the bedframe to get loose.
“Touch yourself, dammit. Slide your fingers between your folds and touch your clit.”
She did as he said, and when she moaned, closing her eyes and throwing back her head, he just about came. He was hard as a spike, hard enough to pound through concrete, he was sure.
“Mmm, that feels good,” she told him as though she were commenting on the taste of a particularly ripe strawberry. And then she raised her head again to look at him. “Now what?”
“Goddammit, Jenna, you know what,” he ground out.
One corner of her mouth twitched with cocky, confident amusement. “I do,” she admitted, “but I’d rather hear you say it. Tell me what to do now that I’m touching my clit. Tell me what to do to make you come.”
