Behaving Badly

by Ursula Whistler

  She stood and walked around the bed, swishing her hips so that he noticed her ass with the thin ribbon disappearing between her cheeks. “I’m thinking we should try that cock ring along with this vibrator thing.” She pushed his legs apart and crawled up the bed in between them. “Or maybe I’ll just take this lovely cock and play with it.” She took hold of his shaft and licked the tip as the finger vibrator moved down toward his balls.

  “Whatever you want, Jess.”

  “There’s just one problem.” She loved how he looked with his body there for her to enjoy, but she craved the feel of his hands. She slid the vibrator over his balls and behind them. He lifted his hips to give her more access.

  “I don’t see a problem.”

  “I’d rather you be touching me.”

  “You know how to have that happen.” He rattled the chain against the headboard.

  “I’ll let you go on one condition.” She might change her mind later, but she had to ensure there wouldn’t be immediate turn around. “You don’t put these cuffs on me unless I ask for it.” He had to earn her complete trust again, and that would take time.

  “I don’t think I ever want your hands, or your mouth, kept away from touching any part of me. I’m hoping that you’ll use them to feel anywhere and everywhere, and for a very long time. Will you stay the night, Jess?”

  She straddled his hips and pressed his cock between her swollen lips. She flung the finger vibrator onto the bed and spread her hands on the chest she’d longed to touch since that first night she saw him. “I can arrange that. In fact, I’d like that. Maybe I’ll leave you tied up a little longer. I can always have your hands on me the next time.”

  He pulsed his hips beneath her. “No more quickies in the dressing room?”

  “Oh, I think we can still have those.” She reached between her legs and slid the thong to the side. She wiggled her hips so his cock slipped over her clit. A delicious friction shot tremors of pleasure up to her nipples. They pebbled beneath the red satin.

  Drew’s eyes were closed, and he had his head cocked backwards. His breaths came in short puffs. “What about blowjobs before rehearsals?”

  She shifted her hips until his tip pressed at the opening of her pussy. She’d missed the feel of his cock sliding through her wetness. Her eyes closed as new sparks of ecstasy pulsed up her spine. She rubbed her hands over her hardened nipples when the sparks reached them. He matched her movement so that only an inch entered her. “I don’t think I’ve ever sung better, but maybe that was the anger fueling it.”

  He moaned. “Don’t remind me of that. I want to think it was the blowjob.” He flicked his eyes upward. “I thought you were going to take off the cuffs.”

  “I decided that this felt good. Better than good.” She pushed her hips backwards, and his entire length slid into her. She sat up and grabbed her own breasts, still encased in the satin of the lingerie. The look in his eyes said he wanted his hands to be where hers pinched her nipples. She’d let him later, but now she delighted in the two centers of pleasure, her fingers bringing a light torture and his cock bathing her pussy with sensuous friction. They were a perfect contretemps, allowing her to release more of the past and embrace a possible future with Drew.

  Between grunts, he begged. “Please let me touch you, Jess. Please. I want to touch your when you come.”

  She shook her head and bit her lip. Moving would stop the growing sensation spreading from where she rode his cock. From the roughness of his voice, she knew he was near.

  “Let me touch you.”

  “No,” she moaned. She pressed her hand over his mouth and held it there as she leaned forward. Her clit responded to the increased pressure and sent waves of electricity up her torso and along her arms. With fast, deep strokes, the shocks grew until a white light blinded her and shot shivers through her. She rode him through the aftershocks and clenched her thighs together, giving his cock the squeezing that it needed to come. When he grunted his release, she flung herself forward and unhooked the chain.

  His hands took hold of her waist and pressed her to his chest. “No more restraints between us. No more secrets.”

  “No more secrets.” She kissed his chin. “The restraints, though, those have to be used again.”

  He wrapped his arms tighter around her. “I love you, Jess. I really do.”

  “I know. We’re gonna be great together as long as you don’t try to change my behavior.”

  “Oh, baby, I want you to always behave badly.”

  About the Author

  Ursula Whistler transplanted to New Orleans four years ago from central Virginia. The culture shock wasn’t too terrible since she spent most of her life in northwest Florida, which everyone considers lower Alabama. She’s got two degrees that have nothing to do with literature or writing, and she’ll tell you more than you want to know about that if you ask her.

  While pregnant with the second of her three children, she had a recurring dream that she dutifully wrote. We all know how dreams go, thin plot and lots of Deus Ex Machina. She learned not to show that manuscript to anyone even after she edited it. She continued to write paying closer attention to plot, and she joined RWA and the Southern Louisiana Romance Writers. That has made all the difference.

  You can interact with her on the web, where she blogs about writing, inspiration for writing, and her oversized Bichon Frise. Ursula will always say that she isn’t bad, she just writes that way.

  Visit Ursula at

  www.ursularwhistler.com

  To chat with Ursula Whistler and other Wild Rose Press authors of erotic romance, join us at www.groups.yahoo.com/group/thewilderroses.

  Also Available

  Painted With Pleasure

  by

  Dena de Paulo

  Laurel Stevens’s professionalism has earned her the opportunity to orchestrate one of Spain’s most important art events of the year. She needs the Lunera Exhibition to go off without a hitch, to assure her dream position back home in the States. But when sexy Spanish artist, Alejandro Lunera, introduces her to desires she’s never known, she’s tempted to risk everything she’s worked for to spend one night in his arms.

  Alejandro has built his career celebrating the sensual side of women through paint, but he’s tired of the clientele his work attracts. He needs a new direction…a new muse. And he’s found her. The intriguing Laurel rekindles his passion for color and inspires him to create again…to paint the woman of his dreams.

  Can Alejandro convince Laurel to choose the passion and love he offers, or will their time together become no more than a moment painted with pleasure?

  Chapter One

  Laurel Stevens placed the crowbar on the long table in the middle of the storeroom, then took a step back to survey her handiwork. Rubbing her hands together to create a little bit of static, she tapped her fingertips on the silky protective plastic shroud. The blurred image behind the shroud came into focus as she ripped through the covering. Her heart skipped a beat from the uncovered treasure. Sexual energy charged the room, and heat crept up her cheeks. The painting was much like all the others in the storeroom, but in a way it was different. The brush strokes exuded a raw tension the other canvases lacked, as if she were intruding on a private moment. Shivers raced down her spine forcing her to blink but the image on the painting danced in ecstasy behind her eyelids.

  “I’ll be damned. Does the man do nothing but have sex?” she whispered to herself, unwilling to allow her colleagues to think her mind slipped into the gutter even every once in a while.

  “I see you found Senor Lunera’s latest Orgasm piece,” Victor Garcia said as he picked up the invoice. His faint scent of cigarettes and expensive cologne engulfed her, threatening her gag reflex. “Ah, Orgasm #35, such a creative title. Do you think they know he fucks them so he can paint them?”

  “Victor, he is our most influential client.” She sucked her bottom lip between her teeth to give her a moment to rein in her emotions. She wouldn’
t give away that she had just thought the same thing. He so didn’t need to know that at all. She couldn’t lay into Victor for being vulgar but it was tempting. Instead she took the higher road, releasing her lip, Laurel shrugged. “How he gets his inspiration is up to him. I have other things to worry about, namely the promotion to the US branch.”

  “He paints nude women in the height of orgasms,” Victor said then flicked his hand with nonchalance. “Look at her breasts, aren’t they luscious?”

  “Victor.” She put her hands on her hips and faced him. Anger spread through her like fire. Of course he was baiting her. She had eyes and could see how beautiful the woman on the canvas was, but that didn’t matter. Victor was just trying to goad her and she needed to get back to professional ground. “Of course, but his client list pays well for these canvases. Our jobs don’t include judging the artist’s work. We’re here to facilitate sales. Worry about that if you want to get the promotion over me. Because that’s the bottom line.” Apparently, Victor didn’t understand she really didn’t want to talk about sex detailed in vivid colors.

  “Whatever.” Victor flicked his wrist. “Clearly you only desire the promotion. Of course, it has more prestige than an associate position, but still you’ll have to leave Spain. That’s a shame. We could have had so much exhilarating fun if we had more time.” He turned his back to the painting and leaned on the frame. His intense blue gaze startled her out of her haze. He smiled his one hundred watt smile that curdled Laurel’s stomach.

  “The promotion is my ticket back home to Texas. I don’t need any more exhilarating time with you. Thank you very much.” She gazed at the painting and knew of only one thing that could possibly keep her in Spain longer than she originally wanted: Alejandro Lunera, the painter of the canvas in front of her. She let her mind wander, put herself be in the place of the model. Tingles ran up her spine and tickled her core with heat. Her cheeks burned and her knees trembled. Her body burned with the need for the artist to fill her to the brim. It’s just pure animal instinct, I can handle him.

  She clenched her fists, and battled to ignore Victor’s existence. She’d rather be in Alejandro’s presence than with this emotionally stunted ass. Everything about Victor, from his Gucci loafers to the top of his perfectly slicked back hair screamed rattlesnake hidden in designer clothes. His pristine black pinstripe suit and salmon colored shirt were starched and perfect. Not one blond hair was out of place, and he wore faint eyeliner to enhance his outrageous blue eyes, but his forehead needed another Botox application. The frown lines had begun inching across his face. Since the first day she’d met him, everything about his presence turned her stomach upside down. His voice alone made her skin crawl, and that look on his face reminded her of fingers along a chalkboard.

  “Could you carry the piece into the conference room for me?” she asked. Grabbing the clipboard she initialed and dated the invoice before turning back to Victor.

  “And ruin my manicure?” He tugged at his sleeves and grabbed the phone on the desk. “I’ll call maintenance.”

  “Maintenance is out in the loading area working on those seven foot stone sculptures. Why do you think I used the crow bar? If you won’t carry the canvas then I will.” She heaved the framed piece out of the broken wood container and moved a couple steps from him.

  “So strong.” His hot breath prickled across her skin and she bristled with disgust—orgasm crushed to her chest, but the wrong man against her back.

  “You know, I could have you looking like that…” Victor said. “Hypothetically speaking.”

  “Sure, but you’d have to give up so much.” Laurel swung around; her long hair slapped his face.

  “Like what?”

  “Your membership to the Rainbow Pride.”

  “You are too much of a prude. I have told you I can show you my beautiful Madrid any way you like it. You know sex is better here.” He stayed on her heels as she quickened her step to escape him. “Don’t be so American.”

  “I’m a Texan, I like my men rough…big. A stallion I can ride all night long. And Victor, you’re a pony. Go and find someone else to bother.” Anger made her tongue lose and if she didn’t get away from this idiot, she was afraid of what else would come out. She shouldered her way around the corner and walked into Alejandro Lunera’s broad, hard chest. The warm scent of fresh cut wood and paint rushed Laurel’s body; swirling thoughts and images of them together entwined on red satin sheets leaped to the forefront of her thoughts. Wow, sensory overload.

  “Senorita, allow me.” He plucked the painting from her hands. “Que tal, mi perciosa?”

  “Bene, Senor Lunera.” Her breath caught in her chest. She enjoyed when he called her gorgeous. Who wouldn’t? His heat radiated through her like liquid fire.

  “For you, call me Alejandro.”

  His deep voice danced along her skin. Talk about a man who could be a stallion. The images of his hard body plunging into her over and over, filling her pussy as she clenched the sheets in pleasure were so vivid she twisted her watch around her wrist trying to catch her breath.

  “Senor Lunera, how are you doing?” Victor asked as he slipped between them and squeezed Alejandro’s bicep. “It’s so nice of you to take the heavy painting off of Laurel’s hands.”

  “Si.” Alejandro’s glare raked over Victor. Anger flashed through his gaze, he pursed his lips then spoke as if to a little child. “A man should always help a woman carry something heavy. Is it not polite to be a gentleman?”

  “Si, but…” Victor dropped his hand.

  “It’s fine, Senor…Alejandro. Victor has other pressing errands.”

  “No, I’m to shadow you, Laurel. The director believes the assignment requires two people to insure the exhibit runs smoothly.”

  “Fine, we are in the room down the hall.” She nudged past both men and made her way down the clean white hallway to the viewing room. At the threshold, she froze and blinked. Perhaps, the director was correct; perhaps no one person could handle the steam generated from Alejandro’s work. Just inside the doorway, her gazed shifted over each canvas that lined the walls, over each orgasm. Anywhere but the couple locked together in the corner. The man had his hand under the woman’s shirt as the she moaned and writhed in his arms.

  “Excuse me,” Laurel said mildly. But the couple didn’t notice her presence. She twisted her watch around her wrist. The sounds from the rutting couple and the images on the wall had amped up her sizzling libido. Sweat beaded on her upper lip as she stepped out of the room. She grabbed the door and slammed it hard. Victor’s brow rose as much as the Botox would allow. Alejandro flashed a billion watt smile with a single gorgeous dimple. Behind the door, she heard a gasp and chairs scraping. This time, when she opened it, she let the men walk in first. She tightened her shirt, mentally reminding herself she was indeed a professional.

  Laurel entered the room keeping her gaze locked on Alejandro’s body. His strong back and muscles rippled beneath his tight shirt. Definitely a stallion. He placed the painting on an easel then shifted his hip to the side, the muscles in his ass clenched, and her nipples tightened in response. She crossed her arms and look at anything but the dangerously hot man in front of his Orgasm Collection.

  “Pardon me, Alejandro, but could you tell me how you crafted the artwork?” Victor asked.

  Laurel opened her month to object, but she couldn’t keep from noticing just how Alejandro’s pants hugged his cock like a beacon.

  He ran his hand through his shaggy brown hair as he looked around the room. His blue gaze pierced Laurel as he spoke, “There are many ways to start an Orgasm and only one way to finish. These paintings are lovely examples of the journey to that one pivotal moment.” He let his gaze slide around the room, questioning everyone. “No?”

  “Umm,” Victor said, “Laurel, do you have need any further explanation?”

  She ignored him and walked away from the testosterone geyser to a painting on the other side of the room. “What Alejandro
wants is for us to notice the way the woman’s eyelashes brush her cheeks, and the way her forehead glistens. Her nipples are tight, her stomach sucked in, and her head thrown back. The way her fingers dig into the bed. The brush strokes are defined and smooth, but in the background, the strokes are intense, rough, and full of raw emotion. In this case, there is no doubt Alejandro’s motivation is the raw passion of sex.” She turned to look at the room. Victor gawked, but Alejandro’s gaze was intense and focused on Laurel. She fidgeted with her watch again and forced herself not to take a step backward.

  Heat pulsed deep between her legs, and her pussy ached. She needed to find a nameless stranger to take off the itch or she might end up screwing up her chances for the promotion by taking Alejandro for a spin. She just needed to stay professional, but her body craved this dangerous hot sexpot in front of her. Damn.

  “I think we will want two of the pieces.” The gentlemen said from the table.

  “Two?” Laurel snapped her attention back the customer.

  “Si, we can’t decide on which one. We’ll purchase both canvases.”

  “Senor, if you would follow me, I’ll draw up the paperwork.” Victor honed in quickly. Laurel clenched her teeth as he escorted them out of the room. As they left, the room remained still, but she could feel Alejandro’s gaze penetrating through her clothes. The heat in the room ratcheted up a notch, and she turned toward the hunk responsible for the roomful of orgasms. The thought zipped through her mind, only one way to finish…geez.

  “Can we talk?” Alejandro’s long hard body eased around the table toward her. His gaze sharp and intense on her.

  “Of course.”

  “You have a way with words.” He stalked toward her until she retreated and bumped into the main door to the hallway.