He introduced her to the many people he knew, included her in conversations, sent her those warm secret kinds of smiles…and oh yeah, she was a goner.
But this was lesson four already. Four. What the hell was she going to do when they were over?
Determinedly she maintained her smile as they walked away from the group of people they’d just spent the last ten minutes talking basketball with. “You’re good at the small talk.”
“Media training,” he said out of the corner of his mouth.
“Seriously?”
He nodded.
It made sense—so many of those NBA stars became celebrities in their own right, they probably needed preparation for all aspects of that. And Joe was more than a superathlete, he was megawatt handsome. “Every woman in the room is looking at you.” She lifted the champagne flute to her lips, hiding her slight jealousy.
“They’re measuring my height,” he said. “Wondering if my cock is in proportion.”
She nearly choked on the mouthful of bubbles.
“What?” He winked. “It’s true. Didn’t you?”
She knew she was blushing.
“Everyone does,” he drawled with a waggle of his eyebrows. “Guys in the urinal…”
“Arrogant man.” She swatted his arm again. “You think all the men are looking at you as well?”
Thing was, they were.
…
“You know, guys notice you all the time.” Joe leaned close to whisper in her ear, enjoying breathing in the soft scent of her. “You just don’t notice them. I guess you have too much going on in your brain.” He liked being here with her, having her with him.
“When I’m with you I can’t think at all.”
He laughed. Oddly flattered.
“I’m serious. It’s weird for me.” She laughed up at him. “I used to spend all my time overthinking everything I was doing or saying, but I get within three feet you, and I… I…”
“What?”
“I forgot what I was going to say,” she cooed and batted her lashes at him.
He chuckled, enjoying her joke. “Then go brainless,” he whispered at her. “Brainless for you is average intelligence for the rest of us. Puts me on a level playing field. And even then you still hit me with the hard questions. But when you let go…”
“What?” she breathed back at him.
“You’re beautiful.”
“You really are a charmer.”
She didn’t believe him? Oh, there was no holding back from touching her any longer. He’d tried—really tried. He’d maintained conversation, talked all kinds of art with her. Talked to other people about everything.
Now he ran his hand down her back. “What are you wearing underneath this dress?”
She said nothing, merely offered a coy smile.
Damn vixen didn’t need any lessons. She knew she was killing him already. “You’d better not be wearing panties,” he warned.
She merely shrugged those delicate shoulders. His gaze dropped to the rich, creamy cleavage that her low, scooped neckline revealed.
It was time for some payback. He curled his arm around her waist and pulled her close. She didn’t resist, which he liked. He glanced around the room and found the sign he was looking for.
Two minutes later he’d bolted the door of the small office he’d spied.
“You know how to find the private places in art galleries as well?” she teased as he walked up to where she stood in the center of the room.
In answer, he dropped to his haunches.
“What are you doing?”
But even as she asked, so breathlessly, she widened her stance a little. Sweetheart wanted him to eat her out again. Even here. He’d known she would. But she wasn’t going to be quite so lucky this time.
“You’re wearing panties,” he growled.
A second later, she wasn’t.
He ran his fingers up the inside of her thigh, then slid them between her folds. She was already warm and wet and ready.
He was the same. Only had to think of her to be hard. The last hour had been fun—anticipation adding to the pleasure of touching her now.
He spread her a little more, enough to reveal her sweet pink clit. Already it was peaked and swollen. He licked it, then sucked on it, drawing it out more. He wanted her unbearably aroused. As he feasted, he pulled out the little present from his jeans pocket. She might not have been up for something like this before, but she was now.
Her breathing roughened as he rhythmically sucked on her.
“I want you inside me,” she whispered.
His cock ached, agreeing a million percent with the idea. His chest swelled, pleased with her ability to speak up and ask for what she wanted.
But then she’d always been a star pupil.
He stilled her thrusting hips with a firm hand, licking her until she was so close to coming, making her clit as red and ripe and plump as he could.
Then, before she could step back, he deftly slid on the clit clamp he’d taken from her bag of toys, taking a moment to adjust it and ensure it was going to hold.
“Joe?” she gasped.
Hell, it looked pretty. A couple of beaded strands hung from the edge, and her clit poked out between the gold metal.
Beautiful.
“What have you done?” She breathed hard.
He grabbed hold of her hands, stopping her from touching herself. From removing it. “Give it a second.”
“I can’t walk.”
“It looks amazing. Best piece of art in the place.”
“Oh…my—”
He stood and kissed her hard on the mouth. Slid his tongue between her shocked lips.
But when he drew back, she remained rigid, like she was afraid to move.
“Joe…”
“Does it hurt?” He watched her closely.
She thought about it before answering. “Not really. I don’t think.”
“How does it feel?”
“Weird. Where did you—? Oh.” She closed her eyes. “The bag by my bed.”
“I took it, remember?” He leaned in to kiss her again—framing her face in his hands, holding her so he could kiss the way he’d discovered he loved—long and deep. Who knew first base could be so damn satisfying?
Her cheeks were even rosier when he released her this time, her eyes gleaming like sapphires.
“You’re so bad.”
“Wear it.” He took her hand. “See what you think.”
…
What she thought? Abbi couldn’t think—she could barely breathe. And as for the idea of walking? Not likely. Every time she shifted the slightest little bit, pleasure shot up her body.
He grinned. “Come on, let’s go back to the party.”
“How much longer do you want to stay?”
He turned and gave her a thorough once-over, making her skin sizzle more than it already was. “Shall we see if we can make it twenty minutes?”
She’d be hoping twenty seconds. All she wanted was to walk back through the gallery and out the door, and head back to his apartment immediately. She’d never been so hot, so aware of her body. Her clit was swollen, protruding, sensitive. With every step she felt the delicious pinch of the clamp. Not painful, but so very there. She kept her eyes on him, not the artwork, as mini-orgasms rippled though her. Her head was filled with thoughts of him. Conversation with anyone was a bust. She stood silent beside him, her hand tightly held in his, and counted down the minutes until they were alone and he was on his knees before her. That’s all she wanted now.
And he knew it.
Nine minutes had passed when he slowly drew her to a freestanding sculpture in the farthest corner of the large space. She knew it was nine exactly because she was counting in her head—trying to distract herself from the waves of pleasure-pain radiating from her pussy. Vaguely she tried to notice something—anything—about the work of art. But then Joe turned to face her.
“How are you feeling, sweetheart?
”
The bastard lifted his hand and grazed the back of his knuckles lightly over her taut nipple. It shot a spasm of need straight to her clit and she gasped.
“Are you going to come?” he tormented.
Her breathing slowed. “You can’t…”
“What if I kiss you?” He pressed his mouth to hers in a quick kiss, letting his tongue stroke her lower lip as he lifted away.
That wasn’t where she wanted his tongue. His knuckles brushed back and forth over her breast again. Again. Again.
“Joe.” Her voice cracked, even as her hips circled. “I’m begging. Don’t make me.” She began to pant. “Because I will…”
She would scream with pleasure here and now if he touched her again. No matter that they were in a room full of people.
She was nothing but a pool of damp want, trying not to clench down and just let go in a loud, long orgasm. But it wasn’t what she wanted—she wanted him with her. In her. Together.
His expression softened for a second, then turned lethal. “Let’s go.”
She nodded mutely, so aroused it was painful.
She sat in the passenger seat, willing him to drive as quickly as possible. Which, thank God, he did. One hand on the steering wheel, one hand lightly tracing the skin just above her knee. Not high enough, not hard enough. He was the ultimate tease.
It was a bare five minutes before he parked in his spot outside the gym.
“Joe,” she whispered, not caring how much she was pleading with him. “I don’t think I can walk anymore.”
He swung her into his arms. One arm wrapped around her thighs, pushing them together.
“Ah!” She had his biceps in a death grip as another mini-orgasm washed over her. “You’re going to kill me.”
“No.” He nuzzled her ear as he climbed the stairs. “I’m going to fuck you.”
Moisture seeped between her thighs, and on her sensitive clit. She wriggled in his arms, trying to shift the torturous clamp.
He ran up all the stairs with her in his arms.
“Show-off,” she murmured.
“No,” he laughed, breathing raggedly. “Desperate. I can’t get there quick enough.”
He punched the security code and thumped the door open with his fist.
Finally, blessedly, he laid her on his bed, right in the center. Unzipped her dress and tugged it from her body. Then he played with her bra, pulling the lacy cups down just enough for her plump, aching peaks to pop up over the top.
Looking like a man unable to resist temptation a second longer, he leaned forward and kissed each taut nipple. She moaned under the caresses. His mouth was so hot, his kiss so deliciously teasing.
But then he stood back and gazed at her. And it was the expression in his eyes that almost sent her over.
She couldn’t move. Was too scared to spread her legs for fear it would pull on the clamp. And yet she was desperate to.
“I’ve never seen anything so sexy in all my life,” he said hoarsely.
He whipped his shirt over his head and stripped out of his jeans, socks, and boxers in record time. Her eyes watered she was in such need. He was the ultimate in physical perfection. And tonight he was hers. She wanted him to be hers for…
She whimpered, unable to hold back her yearning.
“Shhh.” He bent and kissed her. “Only a minute more.”
“I need you,” she whispered, broken and honest.
“I know.” He snapped on the condom.
But he didn’t know—not really. Because she wasn’t talking just sexually.
He’d turned and gotten something else from the cabinet drawer on the far side of the room.
Abbi blinked as she recognized it. He had the hot-pink vibrator? “You really helped yourself, didn’t you?” she accused him.
“You had them for a reason.” He smiled as he called her on it.
“Nadia insisted.”
He shook his head and stepped toward the bed. “You were interested or you’d never have brought them home.”
That was true. He understood so much about her. Encouraged her to do things she’d always wanted but hadn’t had the guts to do on her own. Not without a push.
His hands on her ankles, he carefully spread her just enough for him to kneel between her legs.
“Joe—” She couldn’t take it anymore.
“Shhhh,” he murmured, and rubbed his hands firmly up and down her thighs, stoking that heat inside her more. “You ready?”
She was never going to be more ready.
He kissed her upper thighs, his fingers and tongue stroking and teasing in tandem. And then he did it—slid the tiny clamp off. She cried out as the blood began to flow again. It hurt, it burned. But then his mouth was there—his hot, wet mouth, and his tongue was stroking, soothing, swirling around, inflaming her further.
Her thighs trembled. Her hands clenched on his hair. Her body arched up, tight as a bowstring, about to snap as sensations seared though her. And just as she did that, he pumped the vibrator—filling her just enough while he sucked on her burning clit.
She screamed, loud and harsh and raw. Pleasure crashed in waves, hard and powerful, ricocheting through her body, catapulting her into the realm of mindless, speechless joy. She gasped, sucking in large pockets of air. She’d never had such an intense orgasm.
And now her eyes watered again. “Oh Joe. Joe, Joe, Joe…”
“I’m here.”
He eased inside her. Bigger than the vibrator, heavier, better. He levered himself up on his hands so he wasn’t pressing so hard on her, still controlling the way his pelvis rubbed against hers.
She gazed up at him, dazed by the ferocity of that climax. He was so built, so honed.
And hers.
She didn’t even know she was crying until he dropped to his elbows, gently brushing the hair at her temples with his fingers. “Abbi.”
He kissed her.
She was so glad he did. Because otherwise her stupid heart was going to mess everything up for her. She needed him to stop her from saying it. How much she wanted him. Loved this.
Loved him.
It was insane to even think of saying those three little words to the man who was only having sex with her as a favor. Teaching her some tricks. This was the lesson on how to play with some toys, and play with a man. Please both him and herself.
This wasn’t supposed to mean anything, and didn’t for Joe. This was his usual easy deal. And she hardly knew him anyway, right? He’d been back in her life less than a week. All that crazy, intense feeling she had for him was infatuation. It had to be. She thought he was the best thing since sliced bread just because he knew how to give her the best orgasms ever…
But her heart puckered. Because it wasn’t just that. It was Joe himself—funny, warm, loyal, caring Joe. And she needed to build herself some better defenses quick.
This is just another lesson. Nothing but another lesson.
Abbi Hayes was supposed to have been one of the most brilliant students of her year. Now she knew she was the biggest dunce.
She’d fallen in love with her tutor.
Chapter Sixteen
“Restore your femininity—take a long bath, wear lace underwear, apply lipstick with a brush…”
Joe reluctantly pulled out of the warm haven that was Abbi.
“You were right.” She sighed and rolled to her side, her eyes closed. “I wasn’t ready for lesson number four back at the beginning.”
Joe turned away, tilting his shoulders to hide his expression. Lesson number four? Hell, he’d forgotten all about the damn number of times she’d said they’d work on her stupid sex coaching. He’d forgotten this was the fourth. He’d forgotten it was any kind of coaching at all—that everything that had transpired had been all about her. It wasn’t practice for him any longer. It was real—the pleasure he got from being with her.
Did she really think they were going to have only a couple more nights together?
Maybe that
’s all she wanted. Of course it would be. He was her stud. Her practice pony. She’d move on from this all sexually confident and ready to meet the man of her dreams. Some guy way better than him.
Joe sucked in some air, but his lungs hurt like he’d inhaled chipped glass.
Stupid. Because this was only a few screws for him too. He didn’t want anything more, didn’t have time for anything more. Truthfully he didn’t have time for this as it was. He should be completely focused on opening the second gym and expanding his fitness chain, not dreaming up different ways to screw Abbi.
“Yeah, well.” He threw back the coverlet and gave her a playful slap on her ass. “Wait ’til you see what’s on the table for number five.”
He had no fucking idea what number five was going to be. Or even if there was going to be a number five. He was just getting the hell out of here now while he could still fake a smile. “You get some sleep. I’ve just gotta catch up on a couple of things on my computer.”
“Now?”
Hell yes.
…
It was three days before Joe allowed himself to go back to her. He enforced his usual distance and space to help restore perspective. They were three long, interminable days in which he covered classes, interviewed prospective instructors, ran the financial analysis, decided on a new payroll system, met with the builders who were going to do the refit, and managed another photo shoot for his next feature in the magazine.
Even so, he spent the bulk of his time fantasizing about ways in which he could make her come. And ways in which he could make her talk. Often the two plans overlapped, which was pleasing, though perhaps not practical.
He spoke with her on the phone a couple of times—kept it brief even though he ached to hear more of her laughter. But she was busy, he was busy. This was a mere sideline in their lives.
She was still shy of talking much about anything personal. Jokes were fine. Discussion of news events. All good. But anything about Abbi herself? Blocked.
Joe was frustrated. And mad at himself for being so.
This shouldn’t matter. Couldn’t matter.
In the end he handed a class to one of his other instructors and jogged to Abbi’s place early Tuesday evening. He’d surprise her again. As he rapped his knuckles on her door, he sure as hell hoped she was home.
Taming His Tutor (Entangled Brazen) Page 14
