Rusty knew he had a reputation in the bedroom, and he liked to think it was well-deserved, but he knew he had to be careful here. This was all about Faith and letting her explore her sexuality in a safe environment. He loved her—she was one of his best friends—and he had to make sure he let her lead the way and have fun with a man who wasn’t going to hurt her, or think about anything other than her pleasure.
He made himself think of the contract. She’d drawn it up specifically because she didn’t want anything long term—she only wanted seven sexual encounters, and after that, it would all be over. He didn’t have to worry about how he was going to end it, or how she would feel afterward. This was purely business, a good deed for a good friend.
He glanced at her, getting a perfect view down the front of her cleavage, and gave a silent groan. Don’t kid yourself, dude. This wasn’t all about helping Faith out. He’d thought about having sex with her for years. If this wasn’t a dream come true, he didn’t know what was.
He let his arm sink lower until he’d draped it around her shoulder. And smiled when she didn’t pull away.
Faith’s eyes nearly fell out of her head when the actor in Ocean’s Eleven Inches first appeared. Even clothed, his equipment was impressive. “Whoa, Jesus. You’ve got to be kidding me.” Rusty started laughing, and she looked up at him in alarm. “That’s got to be fake, right?”
“I suspect not, sweetheart, or the film would be probably called Ocean’s Four-and-a-Half Inches.”
“But… It’s not genetically possible, is it?”
“I think it’s possible, but not very common. Let’s just say I don’t think you should judge your future lovers—including me, by the way—by this standard.”
She laughed and kissed his cheek before turning back to the DVD. “I can’t take my eyes off it.”
“Does it turn you on?”
“Ah… Not so much. More ‘elephant in the room’.”
He chuckled as she lifted up the clipboard and wrote a few notes. Then she leaned back against his arm and nibbled her pen as her eyes went back to the screen. “I’m guessing these sorts of films aren’t big on plot.”
“Oh no, there’s a story. You just have to dig deep.” He pointed at the screen and she had a sudden vision of how he must look in the classroom, explaining the Reformation or the Renaissance or something. “You see, this one’s about a young lady, who’s quite clearly got lost in the big city…”
“In a very short skirt…”
“In a very short skirt and with surprisingly little material in her top, and she’s wandered into this paper manufacturers, and this very kind man has agreed to help her out…”
“By removing her clothes…”
“Yes, by helping her rearrange her clothing…”
“I’m guessing it’s quite cold in the warehouse.”
He grinned. “And now she’s dropped something down the back of the photocopier…”
“Yes, and she’s reaching over to pick it up, and—whoa! Jeez!” They both winced. “That came out of nowhere,” said Faith, eyes wide.
They watched for a few minutes in silence. Eventually Rusty looked down at her and started laughing.
“What?”
“You know those glasses you can buy in joke shops, where the eyes are on springs and fall out as you lean forward?”
She glanced at him before looking back at the screen. “Are you surprised? I mean…this is my first porn movie. It’s a bit…”
“What?” He ran a light finger along her jaw and she looked up at him. His eyes were tender. “You okay? You want to turn it off?”
“No, no…” He totally had the wrong idea. “It’s just… It’s more…um…explicit than I thought it would be.”
“You thought they’d be having tea and crumpets? You know the definition of porn, right?”
“Don’t make fun of me. I thought it would be more…suggestive and arty. Almost, I don’t know, kind of pretend. This is very…real.”
“I’m not making fun of you, sweetheart.” He bent his head and kissed her. “There are some films like that. And I think they probably appeal more to women. Slightly more romantic. But I think guys prefer this sort of stuff.”
She pressed her lips together, still feeling the brush of his mouth. “Do you?”
“We’re a pretty basic species.”
She scribbled a few notes on her clipboard. Then she leaned back against him and sipped her wine. Ocean’s Eleven Inches, huh? Glancing up at Rusty mischievously, she wondered what the movie would be called if he were in the starring role. She was desperate to find out and pondered on whether to start taking off her clothes. But even though he smiled at her, something in his eyes made her hold back.
She continued to watch the DVD for a while, leaning her head on Rusty’s shoulder. He smelled nice, some aftershave with a spicy scent that made her tingle. On the screen the man and woman continued to have sex in a variety of positions, and she studied them, occasionally jotting down notes. And all the while Rusty drew small, circular patterns on her shoulder with warm, light fingers.
“Well?” he asked after a while, watching her write something down. “What’s the verdict?”
Her gaze rested on the screen. “Don’t know, really. It’s sexy, in a kind of mechanical way. I think the acting puts me off. She’s so obviously faking it.”
“Yeah, I don’t think there’s an Oscar on the way anytime soon.”
She laughed, looking up at him, and their gazes caught, snagged, held. He lowered his head and kissed her again, long and lazily, his hand moving from her shoulder to brush the nape of her neck, tangling in the curls tumbling from her head.
When he eventually pulled back, she surveyed him. “Okay, so give me a score. How turned on are you?”
He raised an eyebrow. “By the kiss?”
“No, silly, by the DVD.”
“Out of what?”
“Ten. One being a striptease by your elderly maiden aunt, ten being a striptease by…er…”
“You?”
She grinned. “If you like.”
He glanced at the screen and shrugged. “Seven?”
“Ooh. Fairly high then.”
“That surprises you? What’s your score?”
She studied the DVD. “Five-and-a-half? Six? He’s not all that. I couldn’t see myself fantasising about him.”
“Oh, and who do you fantasise about when you’re alone in your room, young Faith?” He ran his fingers all the way up her arm, making her shiver.
“Um…” She could feel her cheeks growing hot. “Brad Pitt.” She pushed herself off the bed to cover her embarrassment, refraining from reminding him that Pitt’s character’s name in the proper version of Ocean’s Eleven was Rusty. “Let’s have a look at Forest Hump. See if that does the trick.” She concentrated on swapping over the DVDs—and on banishing the memory that had jumped into her head. She couldn’t possibly look at him. Brad Pitt. Brad Pitt, that’s all. The second DVD in, she climbed back on the bed and snuggled up to him. He kissed her briefly before pressing Play, and they settled back to watch.
Faith studied the film. It consisted of an orgy in the middle of a forest, featuring half a dozen guys and a few more girls, all butt naked and writhing around in various positions. Only half her attention was on the screen, however. The rest of it centred on the guy currently sipping his Coke and making occasional comments about the movie.
She was becoming increasingly aware that Rusty hadn’t done anything more than kiss her. She’d kind of expected him to be undressing her by now, playing with her as they got more turned on, but he hadn’t made a move on her at all. Was he waiting for her to do something? And if so, what? And why? He didn’t strike her as the sort of guy who needed an invitation to get intimate. Was he having second thoughts?
Now she had that to worry about, as well as her own nerves. Trying not to think about it, she watched ten minutes or so of the movie, attempting to concentrate on her article. Rusty was still
talking to her normally, making her laugh with wry remarks about the actors or their actions, but she wasn’t stupid. Something was holding him back.
“So what about this one?” she asked eventually.
He sipped his Coke and looked at her. “Probably better than the last.”
“Why?”
He glanced back at the screen. “The young ladies seem to be enjoying it more.”
“Is that important to you too?”
“Well, I think watching someone enjoying themselves is more of a turn on than seeing someone wincing.”
“I guess. For most people.” She smiled. “Out of ten?”
“Eight.” He sipped his Coke again and grinned. “And a half.” He watched her write it down. “You?”
“Mm, probably around an eight.” Before she could stop herself, her gaze slid to his jeans. Quite clearly, he was eight-and-a-half out of ten turned on. And yet still he made no move toward her.
“Let’s try the last one,” she said, getting off the bed. Maybe a bit of girl action would get him going.
She changed the DVD to On Golden Blonde and climbed back onto the bed. His arm fell naturally around her shoulder, but his fingers had stopped lacing patterns on her skin, and this time he didn’t kiss her. She said nothing, curling up in the circle of his arm, watching as the movie began to play.
Chapter Five
For the first time, she felt a rush of sexual heat right from the start as the two blonde women started getting it off in the shower. There was no evidence of a plot, and much more subtle music, and the production values were even worse, if that were possible. But for some reason, it seemed much more real because of it, and the two girls actually looked as if they were enjoying themselves.
“Oh yeah,” said Rusty, the first vocal indication since they’d started watching that he was enjoying himself.
“You like?”
He glanced at her before looking back at the screen. “Sweetheart, take it from me, girl-on-girl wins every time.”
She frowned. “When I asked you what kind of DVD you wanted, you said it didn’t matter.”
“I lied.”
“Why?”
He glanced at her again. “I didn’t want you to think I was…”
“What?”
“I dunno. Perverted.”
She laughed. “That word again. What’s perverted about this?”
He shrugged. “Some women think it’s weird, a guy liking two girls together.”
“Really?”
“Faith, come on. Some women won’t watch porn at all, let alone anything not boy/girl in the missionary position.”
“I suppose.” She watched the girls on the screen playing with the shower spray, knowing her breathing was quickening and her panties were growing damp. “I don’t understand people who think like that.”
“And that’s what makes you you, love.” His hand was back to caressing her shoulder, although he still didn’t make a move.
Why didn’t more women watch porn? And why wasn’t it more easily accessible? Why the hell did the world pretend to frown on it when quite clearly it could be a useful tool for stimulating your love life? She scribbled a few notes on the clipboard. “Out of ten?”
“Eleven and a half.”
She laughed, clipped the pen onto the board, and put it down by the side of the bed. “Okay. Enough writing.” She finished off her wine, observing the two blondes kissing and touching each other, watching him watching them. For the moment, his attention was fixed on the screen, and she could see the pulse beating steadily in his neck. The room was warm. His russet hair curled around his temples, and moisture glistened in the hollow at his throat. She was tempted to reach up and lick it, but something stopped her. He was so sexy, so hot, she wanted him to rip off her clothes and throw her on the bed and do unspeakable things to her, but he still didn’t move.
Moving closer to him, she reached up a hand and brushed his cheek. “Come on, Rusty. Kiss me.”
He turned and smiled at her, lowering his lips. He kissed her softly, his hand coming back up to stroke the nape of her neck.
She kissed him for a minute or so, and then, when no further movement was obviously going to occur, drew back to look at him. The room was cast in twilight. Cicadas were beginning to call from the orchards to the west, and the cry of seagulls echoed occasionally through the open window. The whole place smelled of lemon and jasmine, and of salt from the sea. The atmosphere was warm and sultry, and a bead of perspiration ran down between her breasts.
She studied him for a moment. Was he having second thoughts? Did he not find her sexy? Did he not fancy having sex with her?
As she looked deep into his eyes, however, suddenly she realised what was wrong.
Rusty was nervous.
She almost laughed out loud, but stopped herself in time. He knew she was aware of his previous sexual exploits, and after ten years of joking about who he’d done and what he got up to in the bedroom, he was very aware there were going to be no secrets anymore. And she was sure the fact that she was Dan’s little sister was also playing heavily on his mind. Rusty wanted her, she knew he did, but his sense of duty, and honour, and possibly a fear of what she would think of him when she saw what he was really like in bed, were overwhelming his desire. He’d promised he’d teach her, and maybe now he was worried she’d find him wanting.
She felt a rush of affection for him, and a hot, sudden sweep of desire. If she didn’t do something, this wasn’t going to happen, and basically, if it didn’t happen, she was going to be disappointed as hell. She was going to have to take charge. As soon as she realised that, all her nerves disappeared.
She got off the bed and walked around to his side. He watched her, his green eyes curious, slightly wary. She stood next to him and put her hands on her hips. “I have something to say.”
“Okay…”
“Let’s get one thing straight.” She reached around her back to slide down the zipper on her skirt. “I’m not your girlfriend.” She let the skirt fall to the ground and stepped out of it casually, flicking it to one side with her foot. “I’m not your date.” She saw his eyes drop to her black lacy panties, and watched his chest rise with his intake of breath. “And I’m not a girl from a bar you need to impress.”
She climbed onto the bed and sat astride him, the movie still playing in the background, the room filled with the low sighs of the two girls pleasuring each other. She flicked a glance at the screen, saw one girl lower her mouth onto the other girl’s breast while her fingers moved between her legs. She looked back at Rusty in time to see he’d followed her gaze, although now he looked back at her. His green eyes were dark, some emotion moving mysteriously beneath the surface, an emotion she couldn’t quite fathom.
She moved her hips, feeling the swell of him beneath his jeans, hard against her swollen, sensitive sex. He swallowed, and she knew he was aroused but was also forcing himself to hold back. His eyes were almost begging. He wanted her to talk him into it. He needed her to persuade him.
Slowly, she began to unbutton her shirt. His eyes went wide as satellite dishes, but he still didn’t touch her. Her heart pounded, but she made herself act coolly, her fingers sliding down the cotton, unbuttoning one by one. “While we’re here, I’m not your friend.” Nearly all the buttons were undone now. “And I’m nobody’s sister.” She opened the final button, parting the sides of the blouse slowly to reveal her black bra. His gaze dipped to her breasts, lingered and came back up to her face. She felt a surge of excitement—his eyes didn’t look like her friend’s anymore. They were hot and filled with desire. A man’s eyes.
She slid the blouse slowly off her arms and dropped it onto the floor. Then she leaned forward, bracing her arms on the bed either side of his chest, and brushed his lips with hers. “I’m just a girl, Rusty, a girl who wants you, very, very much. I don’t need to be romanced, and I don’t need to be cajoled. And I swear, if you’re not inside me in, like, two minutes, I’m going to tie
you to the bed and carry all seven sins out on you in one go, whether you like it or not.”
Their eyes met, locked. There was a brief moment of silence. Rusty blinked, his eyes going slightly out of focus. Then, to her surprise, he grabbed her by the hips and tipped her onto her back, rolling so he was on top of her. His weight pinned her to the mattress, and he looked down at her, his lips curving. “You’re a bad, bad girl. You know that?”
“Moi?” She batted her eyelashes.
He gave a little shake of his head, his red-brown hair falling across an eyebrow, lust lighting his eyes like fireworks. “It’s a good job my self-control is legendary. You’re hot enough to make a man come with a single touch.”
She laughed, thrilled, excited she was turning him on. And she was, she could see it written all over his face, feel the evidence of his desire pressing between her legs. “It’s a shame you’re not wearing any socks.”
“Eh?”
“I’m desperate to screw them off.”
He gave her an admonishing look. “For God’s sake, Faith…”
“Rusty…” She was almost begging. “Please…”
He laughed and kissed her, the playful peck turning immediately into a full-blown passionate embrace as she opened her mouth. Their tongues brushed and her teeth grazed his bottom lip, making him sigh and cup her head so he could deepen the kiss further. She began to feel dizzy with lust, desperate to have him inside her. But he continued to kiss her, his weight pressing her into the mattress, deliciously heavy and solid between her thighs.
Eventually his mouth left hers and pressed firm kisses down her neck, pausing as his lips met the swell of her breasts. He lifted his head and looked for a moment, bringing up a hand to trace the creamy-white skin above the lacy cup. “God, if I’d known you were this hot, I’d never have waited this long…” He lowered his mouth and traced his tongue along her feverish skin, pressing kisses against the lace, but it wasn’t enough, it seemed, because he rolled again so she was on top. He moved a hand behind her back, took her bra clasp between his thumb and forefinger, pinched it, and it popped open, just like that.
Seven Sexy Sins Page 4
