by Chloe Cole
“God, I want you so bad. Open your shirt for me, baby. Yeah. Like that. Now spread those sweet thighs. I want to feel that wet pussy raining on my fingers.”
She wet her lips and Tuck got lightheaded as his blood flooded to his cock.
“Can I put my mouth on you? I need to feel your clit on my tongue…suck you, open you up until you come apart in my hands. And before the tremors stop, I’m going to ride in their wake and plunge my cock into you. In and out, thrusting deep. Real deep. Legs shaking, hearts pounding. Mmmm…Over and over until we’re sliding against each other, covered in sweat, ready to explode. Do you want that?” His recorded voice dropped to an intimate whisper. “Do you, baby?”
The sound died away, which only made her soft response seem that much louder.
“Yesss.”
Yesss.
***
Cricket reached a shaking hand to her headphones and pulled them off. Her cheeks burned as she yanked down the blindfold.
Words tumbled out in a rush. “Can we take a break? I need to go the ladies’ room.”
She didn’t meet his gaze or wait for his answer as she hightailed it out of the lab and down the hallway to the faculty bathroom.
She shut the door behind her and moved to the row of sinks. She leaned against the cool porcelain and turned on the water. As she bent to wash her face, she caught her reflection in the mirror and paused.
Holy crap.
Her cheeks were flushed, her hair was slipping from its confines and her nipples were spiked beneath her shirt. She looked freshly fucked.
She filled her hands with icy water and splashed her face and neck. The water was cold enough to make her gasp and that was good. Maybe it would give her the jolt back to reality-ville that she so desperately needed.
This project was supposed to be fun and informative, not grindingly sexy and embarrassing. If anyone was supposed to be thrown out of their comfort zone, it was Tuck.
Tuck.
She dried her face with a coarse paper towel and contemplated the man down the hall. What in the world was going on with him? The man she thought she knew, at least a little, was so not the type to say “I want to feel that wet pussy raining on my fingers.”
Her stomach clenched hard. God, that had been hot. The whole thing was hot. Her cheeks began to warm again and she shifted focus.
Okay, what was done was done. They’d completed all but one of the tests and she’d gotten turned on. Big deal. That was the point of their research, so her humiliation was unfounded.
Sex was healthy, she reminded herself. Feeling sexy was one of the greatest things about being human.
She just hadn’t expected to get quite that worked up. And she certainly hadn’t expected it would be Tuck and not the aphrodisiacs, doing the working. It had been a total surprise. Now that she had a handle on it, she’d be fine. She just needed a little breathing room to reassess things.
There was no question he’d known she was aroused. Even if her body hadn’t betrayed her visibly, he had the data right in front of him. There was no point in pretending otherwise. As long as he didn’t know it was him she wanted, there was nothing to be embarrassed about.
She’d just go back out there, make a joke and pray he hadn’t heard her whispered admission. Or if he had, that he had the good grace not to mention it. Then she’d tell him she’d gotten a call and had to leave. They could complete the visual portion in a couple days when they got together for his testing.
She wasn’t chickening out, she reassured herself. She was just taking a breather from boldness. Tune in next week for our regularly scheduled programming.
Yep, a couple days and it would all be fine. Except the video tape. That wasn’t fine. She could’ve kicked herself. Her and her big ideas. But again, that was out of her control. It was done and she’d just have to hope he didn’t look at it. Or at least not until this whole thing was over and they had gone back to nothing more than trading salutations in the staff lounge.
She didn’t stop to explore why that thought caused a twinge in her stomach. Shoving the door open, she took a steadying breath and went to face Tucker Lamb.
Chapter Four
It was almost five o’clock by the time he closed the door to the lab behind him. He’d spent part of the afternoon going over the test results and the video trying to come to grips with his findings.
Cricket had rushed out a couple hours before with an awkward smile and a flimsy excuse, but he knew better.
She was spooked.
He didn’t blame her. He’d known exactly how attracted he was to her before today and the intensity of it all had even spooked him. He couldn’t imagine how she felt. She’d come into it thinking she was in for an interesting day with a pleasant colleague. She’d probably been hoping for a few laughs and some good data. Instead, she’d been hit between the eyes with a two-by-four.
Tuck tried to empathize, but couldn’t seem to squash the Cro-Magnon part of him that wanted to beat his chest in victory.
She wanted him. That was a verifiable, proven fact. He couldn’t have hoped for better results than that.
Now to close the deal. He weighed his options and decided sooner was better, so she didn’t have time to talk herself out of him.
He mentally ran through all the possible scenarios from every angle before finally settling on a plan of action. He’d call and ask to swing by her house under the guise of dropping off a thank you gift for all of her help. Wine was a good choice since she’d mentioned it in her food and drink preferences. Then he’d have to hope she asked him in to share.
Guilt prickled at him. Granted, he wasn’t doing anything any other guy wouldn’t do when he found a woman he was attracted to. But she didn’t know him, the real him. She didn’t know the things he had done and the man he had been. If she did, she would be running in the other direction.
He thought back to that afternoon and realized he felt more alive than he had in years. He wasn’t ready to give that up just yet.
By the time Tuck slid into the seat of his truck, he had practiced his speech a half dozen times. He dialed her number and waited for her to pick up.
“Hey.”
“Hey yourself. Listen, are you going to be around for a while? I picked up a little something for you as a thank you for doing this with me, but I didn’t have a chance to give it to you before—”
“Sorry about that. I feel like such a jerk. I’m always preaching about sexuality and how natural it is. Then I get a little damp in the panties during an experiment about getting damp in the panties and I run away like a child.”
She continued while Tuck tried to focus on the rest of her words, but he was firmly stuck on the damp panties.
When he finally managed to tune back in, she was winding down.
“…over it now. And yeah, sure. I’m just hanging around anyway, so swing by. I’m at 356 Maple Way across from the diner.”
Two minutes later, he was on his way to Cricket’s house. Just a guy stopping by to drop a gift off to a girl. No harm in it.
And that, ladies and gentlemen, is how you justify a load of bullshit.
***
“I have no moral opposition to one night stands. I just think they’re counter-productive,” she said, then took a deep sip from her glass.
“How so?”
When he’d arrived at her house, Cricket had invited him in, cracking open the wine without any prodding at all. They’d been talking for almost two hours and he was having the time of his life. She was funny, smart and bawdy. It felt good just being around her.
Even in the short time they’d spent together, he was already picking up on little things about her. Like how when she was gearing up to make her point, she’d shrug beforehand, as if to say “Listen, this is how it is,” right before launching into a well thought out argument.
“A woman’s sexuality is not at all like a man’s. A man can literally fuck a watermelon and come. If you put enough friction on his cock, in some
semblance of a rhythm, he will orgasm. It’s a no brainer.” She shrugged again.
“But women,” she said with a grin, “we’re tricky. Some women need oral sex to climax, some need nipple stimulation. Some need to be on top and some on the bottom. Some like it rough, some like it nice and sweet. The odds that some random guy, in the course of one or two sexual sessions in a night, is going to figure it out are nil. Even if you have a woman comfortable enough with her sexuality to tell him how she likes it right out of the gate, it still takes fine-tuning. Not to mention the guys who are sensitive and take it personally. Then it can be ego bruising and awkward to take direction.”
She sat back with a smug smile and gave her closing argument. “Ergo, a women soliciting a one night stand because she’s horny is tantamount to throwing a Rubix cube against the wall in order to solve it. Ain’t going to happen. In fact, she’s probably going to end up even worse off, all horned up from the petting. Better off investing the time with a guy who has a long-term interest in getting it right or just taking care of it herself.”
She gave one final shrug.
He was torn between admiration and soul-deep desire. His whole body was tense, his cock like a rock. He wanted to respond, but couldn’t find his voice. That was probably a good thing, because he was afraid of what he might say. All he could think of at that moment was asking which type of woman she was. How she liked it. Unless he wanted to blow his chance—or worse, his load—he needed to stop picturing her in every one of those scintillating scenarios she’d mentioned.
Cricket stood and poured herself another glass of wine. “You know what would really help? If men started looking at it like a bank. The more you deposit the more you can withdraw later. Make a woman come as a rule, she’s going to be more receptive to regular sex and much more open-minded about what’s on the table as far as experimenting. Common sense.”
Common sense, indeed.
She looked at him expectantly, waiting to hear his thoughts on the topic. He cleared his throat and the opened his mouth to tell her what an interesting theory that was.
“Bullshit,” he said.
Ah, Jesus, where did that come from?
“What?” Her eyes lit with interest and a hint of challenge.
He bit back his retraction and half-formed apology, allowing himself to think like the old Tuck for a minute.
“Well,” he started off slowly, still framing his thoughts, “Let me clarify. The second half of your argument about the bank and making a woman orgasm is sound. But, with all due respect to your expertise in the field of human sexuality, that first part about one night stands? That sounds like a load of bullshit. Doctor.”
“Care to back that statement up with an alternate theory, Professor Lamb?”
“Sure.” He leaned forward on his elbows and looked straight into her smiling eyes. “Your hypothetical woman just hasn’t found the right guy for the job.”
She tossed her head back and let out a whoop. Her uninhibited reaction brought an answering grin to his face.
“Oh, just like a man,” she said through her laughter. “Don’t you think most guys go into it with that mentality? That they’re special, so phenomenal in bed, they’re going to be the one to knock her socks off? Listen, I’m not downing your gender. I honestly believe most guys want to make a woman come. It’s just that a one night stand doesn’t give him a sufficient amount of time to figure out how to do that.”
“It does if he’s paying attention.”
Her nostrils flared lightly and the smile slipped from her lips. “I already told you, most guys don’t take well to being tol—”
“A man who takes a woman’s pleasure seriously doesn’t need to be told anything. It’s all there. In the catch of her breath. The tension in her limbs. The way her back arches to press closer, to take more, her fingers fisting in his hair. The way her thighs tremble, then clench just a little tighter around his face when she…likes what he’s doing.” He lowered his voice to a whisper. “When her eyes get dark and she wets her lips.”
Just. Like. That.
***
Blood rushed to her ears and a knot of heat flared low between her hips.
She lifted her glass to her lips and took a sip of wine to moisten her suddenly dry mouth before speaking. “In an ideal world, that’s true,” she acknowledged, pleased that her voice was strong and steady. “But to my mind, being that attuned to another person takes time and a concentrated commitment to the art of lovemaking that isn’t present in the one night stand dynamic. After a night of drinking and prowling, you engage in mindless sex. The man is euphoric that he’s getting laid while typically, the woman is trying to fill an emotional void. He’s focused on getting off and oftentimes she’s wishing she could rewind or fast-forward.”
He nodded thoughtfully, sitting back in his chair.
Cricket took a steadying breath, at once grateful and disappointed that the tension had abated.
“Right, that may be true in a lot of cases, especially for people in their twenties. But what about a woman and a man? Grown-ups who make a conscious decision to have sex for pleasure. Not because they’re drunk or need a void filled. You don’t think that happens?” Tuck met her gaze head on.
Things had taken such an interesting and unexpected turn over the past twelve hours, she still felt like she hadn’t caught up. It seemed like Tucker Lamb had a bit of big bad wolf in him. A shiver ran through her as she framed her response.
“Yes. That does happen. And if you ask one hundred women over thirty if they’ve had an orgasm with a one night stand under the conditions you describe, I bet you’re looking at single digit results.”
Cricket wondered if it was the man, the wine or the topic of conversation that was making her so giddy. She talked about sex a lot, so that wasn’t it. She looked at her glass. One and a half glasses of chardonnay wouldn’t faze her. She looked back at the man and looked hard this time.
His hazel gaze held hers steadily. His lips quirked in a sexy half-smile. He had a confidence about him that was decidedly out of step with the self-effacing, non-threatening vibe he’d given off in the past. His shirt was pulled tight over wide shoulders and she found herself wishing she could peek underneath.
“I accept that assessment,” he said with a nod. “So we agree, then. There is a guy out there who can get the job done. You just haven’t picked the right one yet.”
“So we’re talking about me now?”
He tipped his head in answer.
“Well then, we don’t agree.” She couldn’t help but to try to make push him as off-balance as she felt. “I’m a focused and giving lover, but I expect the same in return. It doesn’t happen in a day.”
He leaned back and grinned. “Okay.”
“That’s not you giving in, that’s you patronizing me.”
“We’re at an impasse.”
“Well, that won’t do at all.” She looked down at the table, at his strong, sure hands and made her decision. The words just tumbled out. “Prove it.”
His gaze snapped to hers, his hazel eyes growing dark.
She took a long sip of wine then spoke again before her jangling nerves made her backtrack. “Put your money where your mouth is. I’m free for the rest of the night. You?”
His throat worked and she bit back a smile. Apparently Professor Lamb wasn’t immune after all. That was good, because somehow, over the course of the day, she had fallen head over heels in lust with him. If he won their little bet, then she’d have spent the night with a good looking, sweet guy and would sleep like a baby afterward. If he lost, she’d be able to put these feelings to rest and could always rely on her trusty pocket pal to take care of her needs. They were both adults. They had nothing to lose.
He stood quickly, moving faster than she would have thought him capable.
“I’m in.” His hungry gaze ran the length of her, lingering on her breasts, her throat, her mouth. He held out his hand.
A quiver of anticipati
on ran through her and she struggled for composure. “Can you take direction without get—”
“No direction. If we do this, I’m going to play by my own rules. I postulated that a man who is paying attention to the physiological responses of a woman’s body could and should, make her orgasm. I stand by that. So, no verbal directives. That would be cheating.”
Her nipples peaked. “And you?”
“And me what?”
“Do you get to come?”
“This experiment is about me proving my point. That’s enough for me.”
Had his mouth always had such a sensual shape to it? She forced a laugh, but it came out sounding hollow.
“So I just have to sit there while you bend over backwards trying to make me come? And I don’t have to do anything at all?”
“Yup.”
Her pulse careened out of control.
“Well, that seems like an offer I can’t refuse.”
“Good.” His face was carved out of stone, so intense she wondered how she’d ever thought of him as puppy-like. He held out a hand. “Come on.”
She slipped her hand into his and stood. He didn’t back up and she found herself flush against him. He smelled delicious as she breathed him in, her breasts brushed against his chest, her nipples pebbling at the contact.
His eyes narrowed and he shifted closer. He leaned low and for a breathless instant, she thought he would kiss her. His mouth stopped just a whisper from hers.
“Did I tell you how beautiful you are?”
She resisted the urge to close the space between them and wet her lips with the tip of her tongue. “No, but thank you.”
He stepped back as if nothing had happened then pushed her gently from the room. “I love looking at you dressed like that, but I want you to put on a skirt and heels. I’ll be back in five minutes.”
He wanted her to dress up for him? Hell, that was okay with her. She donned her favorite black mini and pumps then re-entered the living room, trying to quell the nerves jumbling her stomach. He still wasn’t back yet.
