by Lori Foster
George moaned, "Ah, damn ... Becky."
She stared at his face, felt him jerk, shiver, and then she knew he was coming. His body bowed hard, lifting her, inadvertently driving him deeper. Becky flattened her hands on his chest and braced herself. He went deeper still, not all the way, but it was too much. It hurt.
One of the cuffs gave way and he grabbed the back of her neck, brought her head down to him and ground his mouth against hers. Becky was too astonished by it all to consider the ramifications of his freed arm.
He kissed her and held her and groaned, and then he was finally motionless, still inside her, his hand
still tangled in her hair, his chest rising and falling like a bellows. A little in awe of his fierce reaction, Becky rested her face on his shoulder. He tasted a bit salty against her lips, and he smelled divine.
She could have spent the night like that, and probably would have if she hadn't felt him stiffen.
"George?" She started to move.
His arm tightened across her, keeping her close, and then he jerked his other hand free.
With a yelp, Becky realized exactly what was happening and tried to escape, but it was too late. Using only one arm, his strength far greater than she'd suspected, he kept her gently locked to him while he jerked the blindfold away. He looked . . . well, she wasn't sure. There was determination in spades,
but also a lingering of lust.
And what looked like tenderness. Maybe even regret.
Refusing to become fanciful, she shook her head to clear it. "George?"
He kissed her lightly on the mouth. "I'm sorry, sweetheart."
"For what?" Did he mean to apologize for losing control? She kind of liked it that he had.
Incredibly, his gaze darkened even more. "For this." In the next instant, Becky found herself on her
back. George twisted awkwardly over her, considering his feet were still fastened, but it took him
mere seconds to strap the handcuffs around her own wrists, and because she was small boned, they overlapped, holding her tight and secure.
"George, no!" A very real panic set in and Becky struggled wildly.
"Shhh. Easy, sweetheart." He bent and removed his ankle cuffs, only to catch each of her flailing legs
in turn. With a smile in his tone, he said, "Ankle socks. I think I'll leave them on. They look sexy."
She kicked and fought but again, he was too strong for her. With seemingly no real effort, he wrapped
the restraint around each ankle and Becky found herself spread out, wide open. Vulnerable.
Her skirt covered her, but for how long?
Her heart thundered in her ears and her vision blurred. "No."
"Turnabout is fair play, babe." He tickled his fingers over the arch of her foot. "I think I have an
affinity for this. 'Course, thinking about doing this to you for so long already had me in a lather."
A sob rose in her throat.
George lowered himself over her and held her face. "Becky, shhh, don't cry, honey. Becky, listen
to me."
She didn't want to listen. She wanted to escape, to run away. "Please, George, please don't do this."
He looked very solemn, very resolved, as he kissed her mouth. "Do what? What you did to me?"
"George ..."
"Right now, all we're going to do is talk."
Becky tried to calm herself, tried to think of how to reason with him. "And then?"
"And then I'm going to do everything to you I've been thinking about for two long years."
"No."
"Oh yeah. Everything. And, Becky, I can promise you're going to love it."
Chapter five
He could almost see the thoughts scrambling through her mind. She was afraid, mad, embarrassed ...
It was the fear that ate at him.
As if she'd read his thoughts, she said, "You told me I didn't have to be afraid of you."
George stared at the tears glistening in her beautiful blue eyes and felt his heart breaking. Damn,
somehow his good old-fashioned, straightforward lust had morphed into something much more complicated. "That's right."
Her lips quivered, her chin quivered. "But you're scaring me now."
"Why?" He rubbed the soft skin beneath her chin, hoping to soothe her. A riot of feelings bombarded him. She was all but naked and tied open beneath him, so lust was there, demanding attention. He
hadn't realized quite how much he'd like the bondage stuff, but he had to admit it was an enormous turn on.
Those deeper emotions were there, too, making him soft in the head, turning his muscles to soup.
And the damn tenderness, choking him, making his own eyes damp—he wanted to cradle her close
and tell her everything would be okay. But he didn't even know what the problem was yet.
"I won't hurt you, Becky."
She turned her head away until her nose was pressed deep into the lace-edged pillow. George
smoothed her hair. He loved her hair.
Shit, he loved her.
No woman had ever plagued him the way she did. No woman had ever turned him on, turned him
inside out, and made him generally nuts the way she did.
And right now, she was afraid of him.
To ease the way, he stalled for time. "I'm sorry to subject you to this, but now comes the ickier part."
Her brows drew together and she glanced his way. "Ickier part?"
"Disposing of the condom." He sat up beside her on the bed. He made such an indent in the mattress,
her hips rolled toward him. George grinned, grabbed several tissues from the nightstand and peeled
the condom off.
Becky watched in fascination. "I hadn't thought about that."
"Really?" At least she wasn't crying now. She was such an inquisitive little ex-virgin. "And you had
this all planned so well."
She snorted. "Obviously not well enough." A hard tug on the restraints proved her point.
George dropped the condom into the bedside waste can. "You have more rubbers on hand?"
She sniffed, sounding very put out but also curious as to what he intended to do. She bobbed her head.
"I bought a whole box. They're in the drawer."
"I like a woman who thinks positive." George retrieved a few more of the little silver packets—and noticed the wooden ruler in the drawer. "Ah, what's this?"
"What?"
George lifted it out, pleased that she had started to relax enough to converse. He waved it under her
nose. "Planned to do your own calculations, did you?"
"Yes." She glared at him and her face was hot. "Before you ruined everything."
George dropped the ruler and rubbers on the top of the nightstand. He turned and rested his hand
on her belly.
"Ruined things how, babe?"
For long moments, she simply stared at him, utter defeat clouding her gaze.
"Come on, Becky," he encouraged, knowing he couldn't pull back now. "Explain it to me. Maybe
things'll turn out way different than you expect."
"I'm don't want you—any man—to see me."
That totally took George off guard. He wasn't at all sure what he'd been expecting, but modesty over
her body? It didn't make sense. He glanced at her sprawled form, which looked beyond delectable
even in the dark shadows. Thank God for the night light or he wouldn't have been able to see her
at all.
Her long skirt was twisted around her legs, her ankle socks were bunched, but the rest of her . . .
well, she was naked.
She was his.
"Why the hell not?" Her pale breasts and belly showed up just fine. "You're beautiful."
"No." She shook her head, mussing her hair once more.
For a woman who starched her pillowcases, she sure had a problem keeping her hair in order.
"I don't.
.. don't look how you probably think I look."
"Is that right?" George cupped her breasts. Even now, when she was frantic to get away from him,
her nipples stiffened under his touch and her heartbeat lurched.
"Let's see," he murmured, while playing with her pretty breasts. "These are real, not enhanced.
A gift from Mother Nature, and they look even better than I'd imagined."
"George! I didn't mean that."
He slid his hand to her waist—and felt her stiffen. "No girdle," he said, watching her closely.
"You're not bone skinny, but your curves are all perfect."
She squeezed her eyes shut.
George moved his palm lower, over her hip and then under her to cup one round cheek through the corduroy of her skirt. "There sure as hell isn't anything fake about this great ass. So that leaves, what? Your belly button? Do you have two? An outie, maybe? Hell, Becky, I like outies. No? That's not it?"
"No."
He'd never heard so much misery in one word. George stroked her right thigh through the skirt—
and heard her catch her breath against a cry. He knew he hadn't hurt her, so that had to mean her embarrassment was over her legs. But why? She did always wear long skirts, and even now, when
they were in bed together, she had her legs covered. He frowned in suspicion.
Whatever bothered her, it wasn't going to be easy to convince her that he didn't give a damn.
He decided it was best to bypass that topic for now, and instead reached beneath her skirt and
between her legs.
She went rigid, but for different reasons.
"You're awfully tight," George admitted, and pushed his middle finger into her.
She squirmed, gasped. Moaned softly.
"I like that, Becky. I really do. You squeezed me and I lost it." With gentle care, he pressed in and
out, rasping against already sensitized, swollen tissues. She was so wet, still excited. He kissed her
open mouth. "You were a virgin, weren't you?"
She groaned.
"I like that too, babe, though how the hell you kept your virginity for so long amazes me. A woman
as sexy and sweet and beautiful as you is just made to be fucked."
She made a small sound of dazed excitement. George smiled. Becky liked it when he talked dirty to
her. He'd noticed that early on, and right now, he wanted her insensate with lust. He wanted her to
forget whatever inhibitions remained, whatever troubled her, scared her. He wanted her to trust him.
He wanted her love.
Looking at her with new insight, he asked, "Does this feel good, Becky?"
"Yes." That single word shivered almost as much as Becky did.
She was so precious, so hungry for physical contact and yet such a sweet innocent. The contradictions drove him wild, and made it impossible not to love her. "If I'm going to squeeze back into you again—
and you can be damn sure that I am—we need to prepare you a little more. Let's try two fingers, okay?"
Her head tipped back, exposing her pale throat where her pulse raced. "Yes. Okay."
He smiled at her immediate, husky reply. She held her breath as he began working the second finger
into her, not roughly, but with insistence. "Take deep breaths, that's it. A little more." Her feminine muscles squeezed his fingers as he pushed forward until he had them completely inside her. "I told
you I'd fit."
Her eyes closed. "But you didn't."
"Only because you didn't let me get you ready. Remember me telling you that women need to be touched?"
She swallowed hard. "Yes."
"Especially here." He found her clitoris with his thumb and pressed.
"Ohmigod."
"Yeah, that feels good, doesn't it?" He watched her, loving the way her face, her chest and breasts pinkened. Satisfaction flowed through him as she began to tense. "Next time I slide deep into you,
you'll be so wet and ready, you'll be begging me to hurry."
She opened one eye to stare at him in doubt. George grinned and kissed her again. "Now, I'm going to scoot down just a little bit—no, don't get all antsy on me. I only want to get to your breasts. You have very soft, heavy breasts. They turn me on, and I especially love how your nipples taste."
"Oh." She arched, offering herself to him.
George tested her self-control by kissing just below a nipple, around it, touching with his tongue.
"George?"
"Hmmm?"
"Will you ... urn ..."
"What?"
"Suck on me again?"
He'd already come not more than five minutes ago, and with just a small request, she had him
painfully hard once more. "Yeah. You can bet I will." He went back to teasing her.
"George?"
Hiding his grin, he said, "Hmmm?"
"When?"
He curled his tongue around her and drew her into the wet heat of his mouth. Her moan was nice and deep and real. He liked it. He liked helping her forget her silly qualms about her body. What, did she
have freckles on her legs? A birthmark? He'd show her that it didn't matter—after he had her mindless with lust and limp from a screaming orgasm.
Within minutes, Becky was squirming and gasping and George knew she was close. He wanted to be inside her when she came, but decided he could be generous. She deserved a lot of pleasure, and he'd enjoy giving it to her.
He kissed her ribs, down her belly.
Becky groaned. She jerked and pulled against the handcuffs, then flopped back in defeat.
"Sorry, babe, but you're not nearly strong enough to free yourself." He dipped his tongue into her
navel.
"What.. . what are you going to do?" She sounded both anxious and worried.
He wanted her to enjoy her first orgasm with him, so he didn't push the issue of her skirt. Instead,
he spread the skirt out across her wide-opened legs. Becky tried to bring her knees together but the
footcuffs stopped her.
"None of that. You're open to me, and I can touch you, taste you, and look at you, as much as
I want. Just relax and enjoy."
He ignored her continued struggles, her rasping breaths, and raised just the middle of the skirt,
keeping her thighs hidden but revealing her mound. She went perfectly still.
Being the master of understatement, George said quietly, "Now isn't this pretty."
Becky groaned, but otherwise didn't reply.
He fingered the dark blond curls decorating her sex; they were damp with her excitement.
"Very, very pretty."
Her heels pressed into the mattress, but she still didn't say anything. Unable to wait a second more, George carefully parted her. "All sweet and pink. You're beautiful, Becky."
"You're looking at me!" She sounded scandalized—and aroused.
"Hell yes." He stroked his fingers over her, opening her more, teasing her. "I love looking at you."
He leaned down and kissed her deeply.
Her hips shot off the bed. "George."
He held her steady, keeping her poised high, and continued to taste and tongue and nip at her.
"Ohmigod, ohmigod, ohmigod."
The taste of her, her spicy female scent, filled him. He held her tight so she couldn't lurch away
from him, found her clitoris—and suckled.
In that moment, George knew she forgot all about her worries. She thrashed and cried and pressed
herself against his mouth, as much as she could, considering she was tightly bound to the bed.
She begged him with words and actions to continue. He stayed with her, carefully attentive to her reactions so he'd know exactly what she liked the most.
"Back inside you again," he whispered against her hot flesh when he felt her begin to tighten, felt
her legs tensing. He pushed two fingers deep, out, i
n again—and she came.
It was pretty damn special, George thought, watching Becky come, tasting her release, hearing
her low cries.
When she finally quieted, her body going boneless against the mattress, he reared up, grabbed another condom, and in record time, he was over her. She didn't have time to accustom herself or gather her objections.
George shoved her skirt aside, but kept his gaze locked on her face. Her eyes opened in startled
alarm, met his, and went soft and vague as he thrust into her.
"You can take me, Becky," he ground out from between his clenched teeth. "All of me."
