“George.”
“What?” He kept walking, refusing to let her back down on him now because of some ridiculous anxiety over his size. Hell, he’d thought she’d be turned on, as most women were, or he never would have told her a damn thing. At thirty-seven, he felt no need to brag about his endowments.
He shook his head. When Becky found out he was actually bigger than that, that he’d shortened the dimension out of modesty, well, he could only imagine her reaction.
He wondered again at her lack of experience, but it was far too late for him to change his mind.
“You’re dragging me in the wrong direction.”
George stopped and struggled for breath. It was unheard of, the way she affected him. “Right.” He looked up and down the deserted hall. “Give me another kiss to tide me over then, and I’ll let you get back to your work.”
Becky grinned. She went on tiptoe, kissed his chin, his jaw, and finally his mouth. “Six o’clock.” And teasing him as Erica had, she added, “Stud,” and tapped his chest with the damned ruler.
George watched the sexy sway of her backside as she walked away from him. Before his very eyes, Becky’s inhibitions were wearing away. He’d done that to her, he realized, and she was sexier for it. Very sexy.
He had to stake a claim before every cursed male in the factory noticed. When the night was over, Becky wouldn’t have a shy bone left in her sumptuous little body.
And she’d be telling him that they were a perfect fit.
In more ways than one.
He showed up twenty minutes early. Becky was in the process of attaching the hand and footcuffs to the bedposts, thinking that it would be less awkward that way than trying to set things up once they were…in business. She hid the handcuffs with the bed pillows, the footcuffs with the turned-down sheet. Her hands shook, her heart pounded, and her stomach felt very funny, sort of fluttery and tight and tingly.
She was going to have sex. And not with just any guy, but with George.
She closed her eyes and held her hands to her belly, trying to calm the stirring there.
The bed was all prepared, she decided. She’d drawn the drapes to leave the room dark. And on the nightstand—on her nightstand—was a condom and the blindfold. She felt faint with expectation.
When the knock sounded on her front door, she actually jumped and let out a small screech. Heavens, she was nervous. And eager. And excited.
She rushed from the room, but forced herself to slow, to take two deep breaths so George wouldn’t know how anxious she was. She’d dressed in a button-down sweater and a long casual corduroy skirt. The sweater would be easy to remove, the skirt easy to lift. She’d left off pantyhose and instead wore lacy ankle socks—again, because they’d be easy to take off.
Her door rattled with another heavy knock and Becky peered through the peephole. George stood there, tall and dark and so handsome her toes curled inside her slip-on shoes.
She turned the locks, braced herself, and opened the door.
Trying to sound calm and cavalier when she was anything but, she said, “Hello, George—umpf!”
In one movement, he stepped in and scooped her up, then kicked the door shut. Held high against his chest, Becky had no choice but to grab hold of his shoulders and hang on. “George!”
His arms were trembling, his dark eyes piercing and hot. He leaned forward, nuzzled her hair, kissed her ear, gently bit her neck.
Becky jumped again, unprepared for such an onslaught of sensual attention. She had thought they’d…talk. That they’d…
“Where’s your bedroom?” His voice was an aching rasp that curled through her on a wave of heat. Urgency beat inside her, matching the tempo of her suddenly racing pulse.
“My bedroom?”
“God almighty, Becky, I can’t wait another single second.” He strode forward though he obviously had no idea which room was hers. “Forget the movie. Forget the damn pizza.” He peered into her bathroom and kept going, peered into the small guest room she used as a den. “Where is your bedroom?”
Becky lifted one limp arm and pointed to the last door in her small hall. Two seconds later George stepped into the room. This door he left open, which allowed the hall light to spill in. Becky wanted to protest but when he reached the bed, he dropped her. Her shoes fell off and tumbled to the floor.
Trying to ground herself, to get her bearings, Becky started to rise up on one elbow. She never made it. George threw off his coat, came down on top of her and started kissing her again, touching her, moving against her.
It was something of a shock, feeling a man lying on top of her, all heavy and hot, hard and lean. It took her a single heartbeat to realize it was also wonderful and Becky squirmed, better aligning their bodies. He caught her hips and held her still. His mouth traveled from hers to her throat to her chest.
She yelped when he nuzzled her breast through her sweater.
“George.” She didn’t mean to, but her body arched in reaction.
He grappled with her buttons, finally just shoving the sweater down so it caught beneath her breasts. With an expert hand, he released the front catch on her bra and the cups parted.
Breathing hard, George reared back to look at her. His cheekbones were dark with color, his eyes glittering and intent. “Damn.” He cupped her breasts in both hands, stroked her nipples with his thumbs, caught and held them, tugged. Her nipples felt achingly sensitive, and his touch jolted through her.
Never in her life had Becky expected so much sensation from such a simple caress. A raw moan escaped her, and then another when he bent and sucked her right nipple deep into his mouth. She clasped his head and held him to her.
Wonderful. Beyond wonderful. She was lost in feelings too exquisite to describe when his hand went beneath her skirt, up the outside of her left thigh.
Becky panicked. “No.”
George stilled. He lifted his head to look at her. Confusion warred with the lust and other emotions that Becky couldn’t decipher.
She tried a smile, tried to remember everything she’d planned. Voice shaking, she touched his chest and said, “This is my show, George, remember? You were going to…indulge me.”
His gaze went from her face to her naked breasts. He breathed hard, closed his eyes for a long moment. When he opened them again, some of that devastating emotion was banked. “Right.”
Gently, Becky pressed against his chest until he fell to his back. Still struggling for breath, he put one arm over his eyes.
Becky slid on top of him, liking that position almost as much as being beneath him. A distraction was in order, so before he could cool down and start questioning her, she kissed him.
His hands went to her back, keeping her close as she tasted his throat, the side of his neck. “I love how you taste, George.”
His fingers contracted on her in reaction. Encouraged, Becky kissed his ear and breathed, “I want to see you, George. All of you. I’ve been fantasizing over your body for a long time.”
He groaned.
Slipping to the side, Becky touched his chest, light and curious and teasing, through the open collar of his shirt. “Will you get naked for me?” Her face heated as she made that request, both with a tinge of shyness and with anticipation.
His mesmerizing gaze locked on hers. “Oh yeah. Whatever you want, Becky.” Without further instruction, he started on his buttons.
It was a slow striptease and she loved it. Having George remove his clothes for her delectation was a dream come true. Becky didn’t want to miss a single thing.
As he worked the buttons free, she saw the dark hair on his broad chest, the way it narrowed down his trim abdomen and curled around his navel. The sight of the downy hair below his navel, leading to his sex, made her heart race. He was full and hard, and she could hardly wait to see that part of him.
He pulled his shirttails free of his slacks, and with a taunting smile, opened the button on his pants and cautiously slid the zipper down.
> He smiled at her wide-eyed fascination. “You, too, honey.”
“Oh.” She glanced down at her still-exposed breasts. Her nipples were puckered, darkly flushed, still sensitive. Yes, she could do that. If he enjoyed seeing her upper body, that was fine. If he wanted to touch her there again, or suck on her again, even better. “Okay.”
Becky watched him watching her. Her fingers seemed far clumsier than his had been, but he didn’t rush her. Instead, still glued to the sight of her breasts, he curled forward, raising his back from the bed. Using his fist, he reached back and grabbed a handful of his open shirt, then yanked it off over his head and down his long arms. He balled it up and tossed it over the side of the bed to the floor. Becky paused in the middle of her stripping.
Wow, he looked good. His shoulders were hard and sleek and muscled, his chest hairy but not too much so. He looked so…manly, so edible, beyond mere sexy.
Becky accidentally popped the last button on her sweater, then just stared at him.
“Take it off.” George leaned back on his elbows. “The bra too.” As he waited for her to comply, he toed off his shoes and let them fall over the end of the bed. They hit her carpeted floor with a soft thunk.
There was no embarrassment, not yet, not with the hungry way George watched her. Using the excuse of putting her sweater and bra on a chair, she crossed the room to the door and shut it. Shadows enveloped them.
George asked, “Where’s the light?”
“We don’t need the light.” Becky peeled off her sweater and bra and strode back to him.
There were two heartbeats of silence. “Now, sweetheart, how can I see you without a light?”
He spoke so gently, his tone cajoling, that Becky wished she could relent. But she couldn’t, so she teased as she slipped back into the bed with him. “And here I was under the impression you already knew where everything was.” She reached out, felt his chest, and pushed him flat. “Isn’t that right?”
“Becky…”
She trailed her hands down his body to the top of his slacks, effectively cutting off his protest. He drew in a sharp breath and his hands caught hers.
“Let me,” she said.
His hands dropped to his sides. “You’re pushing me, babe. And I’m already on the edge.”
“Good.” She loved the idea that she, Becky Harte, could drive a man to the edge.
“Not good. I want you with me.”
“I’m right here.” She shoved the material over his hips. “Lift up.”
He lifted, but said, “No way, Becky. You’re eons behind me.”
She got his slacks all the way to his ankles and pulled them off with his socks. Taking a deep breath for courage, she explained, “I’ve thought about how I want to do this at least a hundred times, George. And that’s just since yesterday. Please, just lay back and let me have my fun, okay?”
His hesitation was thick and unnerving. Then with a growl, he dropped back. “Somehow, I just know I’m going to regret this.”
His legs were so long, she wondered briefly if he’d overreach the length of the footcuffs. As she touched his legs, she felt how his muscles had tensed, his thighs hard as steel. She glanced up at his face, but all she could really see was the glitter of his eyes. “Relax, George.”
“Ain’t gonna happen, babe.”
She stroked the inside of his thigh. “Try.” Becky cleared her throat, then touched his erection through the soft cotton of his boxers.
They both flinched, then both groaned.
“Damn.”
Becky said, “Yeah.” She touched him again, explored his length. “You feel even bigger than I remembered.”
“A figment of your imagination.” He sounded suspiciously anxious to convince her of that.
Before she could chicken out, Becky caught the elastic waistband of his underwear and dragged them off him. George shifted his legs to help, and again reached for her.
Becky decided it was past time she got him contained before she forgot herself and everything got ruined.
She fell on top of him, kissed him wildly to divert his attention. He went still for a moment in surprise before his big hands closed over her naked back and hugged the breath right out of her. The feel of his chest hair against her nipples was incredible. Becky closed her eyes and absorbed the tantalizing stimulation.
“Becky.” He started to stroke his way down her back. “You’re still wearing your skirt.”
“Mmmm.” Becky shifted to kiss his chest, to lick her way up to his shoulder, to his biceps. She loved his various textures—crisp hair, sleek warm skin, bulging muscles. His arms went slack and she trailed her fingertips to his wrists, then stretched his arms up over his head. The position had her hovering over him, her breast near his mouth.
“Lean down a tiny bit, babe.”
She did, at the same time he lifted his head. His mouth closed over her nipple hungrily. It was enough to leave Becky witless with pleasure.
It wasn’t easy, but she forced herself to remember the plan. She pushed his right arm higher, fumbled for the cuff, and closed it around his wrist.
George went still. He released her breast.
Quickly, before he could get cold feet, Becky did the same with his right arm. She pulled the Velcro tight but his wrists were so thick, there was barely enough length to the cuff to wrap around and hook.
“Uh, Becky…” He sounded bewildered, and Becky felt him tug experimentally against the restraints.
Thank God they held. Her hands had been shaking so badly, she wasn’t sure she’d fastened them right.
She sat back, which meant she literally sat on his abdomen. “Can…can you see me, George?”
Again his arms strained. “Damn right I can see you! What the hell are you doing?”
Uh-oh. Becky leaned over him and felt on the nightstand for the blindfold. “Here, let’s get this on you.”
“No! Damn it, wait a minute…” He twisted, but Becky easily got the elasticized band hooked across his eyes. “Becky.” There was a wealth of warning in his tone.
Becky bit her lip. She wasn’t quite sure what to make of his new attitude. “You promised, George.”
“Like hell I did!” He jerked hard, making the bed shake and almost tumbling Becky from her perch on top of him. “You’re the one who wants to be restrained, not me.”
Becky gasped. “That’s not true! You said you understood, that you’d indulge me. You said we were in agreement.”
“We agreed I’d tie your sexy little ass down. I didn’t say jack-shit about this being done to me.” He yanked hard again and Becky thought it was a wonder the bedposts didn’t crack. “Now unfasten the damn things.”
Her heart beat too fast and her face burned. Becky moved off him so she was no longer astride him. “Oh no. This is just awful.”
“It’s going to get a lot more awful if you don’t undo these damn things right—now.”
He sounded so outraged, Becky wasn’t sure it would be wise to let him loose. “George, please calm down.” She sounded near tears and hated herself. “It’s a misunderstanding, that’s all. And I’m sorry. I’ll unfasten you if you promise to just go.”
“Go?”
“I don’t want to argue about this and I don’t want a huge confrontation. I’m embarrassed enough as it is…”
He’d stopped struggling halfway through her diatribe. “What the hell are you talking about? I’m not going anywhere.” His voice dropped to a growl. “We’re going to make love.”
Becky stared through the darkness at him. “Oh no. We can’t now.”
He practically vibrated with tension, with anger, then burst out, “Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck…”
“George!”
He groaned, he cursed again. Finally, he took a deep breath. “You’re saying you won’t have sex with me unless I let you keep me this way?”
Becky bit her lip. He was definitely outraged. She nodded her head, realized he couldn’t see her, and said, “I’m sorry.�
��
“Why?”
“Because I didn’t mean to mislead you.”
“No, I mean why do I have to be restrained. Did some asshole hurt you? Are you afraid I’d hurt you?”
“What? No!” His misconceptions further flustered her. “It’s nothing like that.” She leaned over him and cupped his face. “I trust you, George. And I want you. I want you so much, it’s killing me. But it’d have to be this way or…or not at all.”
She felt him breathing, felt the rise and fall of his chest beneath her. Then he spoke, his voice husky, his words enticing. “Are you wet, Becky?”
Oh, she knew this new tone. He was interested again, rethinking things. Becky touched his mouth with her fingertips and answered in a barely there whisper. “I don’t know.”
“Take the rest of your clothes off, okay, sweetheart?”
She was almost afraid to hope. “You’ve changed your mind? You’re going to make love to me after all?”
“Yeah, I’m going to make love to you.” He laughed, a sound of irony and frustration. “Or rather, you’re going to have to make love to me, all things considered.”
Becky kissed him very gently. “I’d like that.”
His voice deepened even more. “Then finish taking your clothes off.”
“Is it okay if I fasten your ankles first?”
He groaned. “Yeah, what the hell. If that’s what it takes.”
To Becky, he sounded in pain. She twisted around and quickly caught each ankle to a bedpost so that his long strong legs were held open. Curiosity got her, and she trailed her fingertips up his thighs until she located his erection. “Is it okay if I do this too?”
“God yes.”
His hips lifted with her first tentative touch. She lightly wrapped her fingers around him, amazed at how big he was, how he filled her hand.
“Harder.”
Thrilled with the instruction, Becky used both hands to hold him, and stroked. Now he definitely sounded in pain, but she wasn’t so innocent that she misunderstood. He was painfully aroused, and he was enormous.
“I’m going to take my panties off, George.”
She could hear his labored breathing in the otherwise quiet room. His head turned toward her, but Becky knew he couldn’t see her. The room was dark enough without lights; under the blindfold, he wouldn’t be able to distinguish a single thing, much less her scarred leg.
I Love Bad Boys Page 6
