“Bend over,” he ordered next, his voice hoarse. “Place your hands flat on the coffee table and spread your legs.”
For a brief second she thought about disobeying, then sanity prevailed. It was his turn to take command, and she had no idea what he’d do to punish her. Probably withhold sex. The thought made her whimper.
“What is it, Siobhan?” he asked, his voice gentle with concern.
“I was just hoping that you weren’t going to punish me by not having sex with me.”
His low chuckle scraped along her senses. “I’m looking at the sweetest, juiciest pussy I’ve ever seen,” he told her. “I see how wet you are and I know it’s because you want me, want my cock. I suppose it would be a punishment not to fuck you, but that would punish me too, wouldn’t it?”
“Yes, yes it would,” she agreed, maybe too quickly.
“You’re right.” She felt him behind her, her skin prickling with his nearness as he dropped a condom on the table beside her hand. “So no, sweet Siobhan, I’m not going to punish you. Not that way.”
He snapped the string waistband, the pop loud against her skin. She breathed through the sting, then whimpered again as he ran his index finger along the fabric, pressing the material into her dampness. “Is this vintage?”
“N-no.”
“Good.” Gripping the straps with both hands, he ripped the G-string apart, sending the torn scrap fluttering down to her ankles.
When she protested, he ran his finger over her slit again. “I’ll replace it. I’ll be more than happy to take you shopping for pretty lacy things.”
She pushed back against his hand, wanting more of his touch, but he moved away. “Charlie . . .”
“You have a beautiful ass, Siobhan.” His palm stroked over her buttocks. “Seeing you in your stockings and belt yesterday made me lose my mind. I think I’d like to see you wear that again, without the panties. Just this delectable ass framed by those straps and a little bit of lace.”
She thought she was wet before. Her core felt heavy with want, with desire, with need for him. “Please—”
“It will be the perfect frame for the imprint of my hand. Or maybe a paddle or a crop.” He squeezed one cheek. “Of course, if I do it to you, you’d want to do it to me, wouldn’t you?”
“God.” Her mouth watered at the images he described. She squirmed, needing more from him.
“Is that what we’re doing, sweetheart?” he asked in a silky tone. “A little quid pro quo to keep the scales balanced?”
She hadn’t thought of it that way, but now that he’d mentioned it, she supposed she had been keeping a tally. This was only day two, and he already had her pegged. God, she was in trouble.
He ran a finger down her spine, making her shiver. “Does that mean I get to tie your hands behind your back while I fuck you?”
It took her a moment to speak past the lust threatening to choke her. “Didn’t.”
“Didn’t what, sweetheart?”
“Didn’t fuck you.”
“You most certainly did, milking my cock with that hot mouth of yours, and all I could do was sit there and take it. Which is exactly what you’re going to do.” He massaged her buttocks, his thumbs dipping into the hollow between her cheeks and spreading her open. She shifted backward, a silent entreaty for more, but he denied her.
“Do you have any toys, sweetheart?”
Her core clenched on nothing, making her groan. “Y-yes,” she answered, so drunk on desire that her words came out slurred. “A couple of vibrators.”
His fingers dipped down to stroke along her slit, then teased back to her anus. “I think you may need to go shopping.”
“My friends suggested a trip for Saturday.”
He stroked her again, drawing her moisture back to her puckered opening. “Make sure you get a vibrating butt plug.”
She gasped as his finger pressed against her. “For you or for me?”
For a long moment he didn’t respond. When he did, it was to sink his teeth into the apple of her left buttock. She cried out, a sharp sound that subsided into a soft moan as he kissed the sting away.
“What you get for you, you’re getting for me. Just like me doing this to you does it for me.” He scraped his teeth along the curve of her ass. “Up on your toes, sweetness. You need a little bit of punishment before you get your reward.”
She didn’t know what he meant by punishment, but if it included more of those delicious bites, she’d take it. Balancing on her toes and keeping her hands flat on the coffee table tilted her ass even higher in the air, opening her up even more. She felt more than heard his sigh, his breath cool against her enflamed sex. Then his hands cupped her buttocks, his thumbs holding her open for his questing tongue.
She mewled, her core contracting at the contact as she tried to press back against him, gain more of his tongue. But Charlie knew what he’d meant by saying it was a punishment. He stoked her desire, drove up her need, pushed her toward the pinnacle without ever allowing her to reach the peak. Over and over he revved her up with his tongue and his fingers, playing her like a maestro until she was reduced to panting his name like a mantra, a curse, a plea.
“You take your punishment so beautifully,” he told her, his voice scraped raw as he reached for the condom, ripped it open. “Go kneel on the couch.”
She did, moving unsteadily, intoxicated by sensation. He stepped up behind her, one foot on the floor, the other on the cushion. He fit the head of his erection against her opening, then drove himself home with one powerful thrust.
The sudden fullness had her crying out, her sex clamping down on his cock. He circled his hips as his hands clamped down on her waist. “God, baby. Yes, just like that. Hang on.”
He powered into her, rocking her into the couch, the impact of his body slap, slap, slapping against hers, reverberating through her sex. His fingers dug into her hips, holding her where he wanted her, where she needed to be. Then his thumb pressed against her back opening and she was too far gone to care, to worry, to do anything but crave him and the pleasure.
She tossed her head back on a low moan as he breached her, his cock and thumb filling her in tandem. Incredible sensations burst over her, slicking her skin, her sex. It arced over her, powering her up the precipice to orgasm. There was no stopping it, no holding back, she could only let go and take the pleasure he gave her.
She did, screaming his name as she came, flying apart and out and away. As if she’d given him permission, Charlie increased his pace, his thrusts almost brutal as he slammed into her. Speeding, speeding, then he clutched her hips like a vise as he erupted inside her with a guttural groan.
For long moments he ground against her, wringing every bit of sweetness from the orgasm, slowly bringing them both back to earth. It felt so good, so damn good. She moaned as Charlie stepped back from her, then swayed as her muscles refused to obey her commands.
“Easy there,” he said, scooping her up. “I’ve got you. Just let me know where the master bath is.”
She pointed him down the short hallway to her master bedroom, embarrassment fighting with the bliss. “Sorry, I wasn’t expecting all that. I thought yesterday was a fluke from breaking my drought.”
“I get it. Me too. About the drought, I mean.”
She snorted as he placed her on her feet. “You? In a sex drought?”
He tossed her a glance as he disposed of the condom in her wastebasket. “You know as well as I do that keeping a small business in the black takes a lot of work. I needed that to be a priority, not being wild and raunchy.”
She pursed her lips as she opened the glass door to start the shower and tried not to think of how long it had been since she’d last showered with anyone. “Forgive me for being skeptical. Drought or not, you rocked my world.”
“Thank you.” He kissed the back of her neck as he followed her into the shower. “My sister would leave her girly magazines lying around all the time. I caught myself reading a few of them. I gu
ess some of the information stuck.”
She blinked up at him as he stepped beneath the water, watching the play of his muscles as he reached up to slick his hair back. Damn, the man was beautiful. “You have a sister?”
“Yeah. And two brothers.” He guided her into the stream of almost-hot water, working his fingers through her hair. “What about you?”
Her eyes slid shut. She’d forgotten about this, about the feel of someone else’s hands on her body in an intimate yet nonsexual way. Forgotten how comforting the caring touch of another could be.
“Siobhan?”
He’d asked a question, and it took her several seconds to remember what it was. “No, no siblings. I was an only child.” And now my family pretends I don’t exist.
“I have no concept of what that must be like.” The scent of flowers filled the shower stall as he massaged shampoo into her hair with gentle but sure pressure, as if he’d done it thousands of times. “There was always someone being loud over some injury or argument or roughhousing. They got on my nerves sometimes—they still do—but I wouldn’t trade them for anything.”
Something dark and hard entered his tone at the last, causing her to open her eyes and look up at him. Concentration set his features but shadows flitted through his gaze as he cupped the back of her head to rinse the shampoo from her hair. She clutched his shoulders as he took care of her, rinsing her hair, then gently lathering her body with her favorite castile soap.
Disquiet slithered through her. Being tended to like this was far more intimate than the sex they’d had. That had been about lust, about basic need. This . . . yes, it was something she needed, something she craved deep in the dark of the night. It also required a level of openness and vulnerability she couldn’t afford to indulge.
“You’re frowning,” he observed, his voice barely above the sound of water hitting the tiles. “What are you thinking about that’s so bad?”
“You,” she answered honestly, undone by him and not knowing how or why. “I don’t mean that you’re bad, just that I’m thinking about you.”
He stepped behind her to lather her back. “And thinking about me is a bad thing?”
“Yes. No.” She shook her head. “Damn, you’re good at this.”
“I’m good at a lot of things,” he told her, as if he were simply stating the truth and not bragging. “Which thing in particular are you referring to?”
“You’ve had me off balance since the day you gave me that proposal. Even now, I can’t believe I’m standing here in my shower with you, allowing you to soap me up like it’s no big deal.”
“It’s not a big deal unless you make it one, Siobhan.”
She bit her lip. Maybe it wasn’t a big deal for him. Maybe he did this all the time, despite what he’d claimed earlier about a sex drought. If so, it would explain why he was so casual showering with her while she was still so shattered.
As if sensing that she was ready to bolt, Charlie smoothed his hands over her shoulders. “I like doing things for people I like, Siobhan,” he said, his fingers lightly rubbing at the back of her neck. “I like taking care of people that I like. It’s part of my nature. That’s what I meant about it being no big deal.”
A hot flash of guilt warmed her ears. “All right.”
He ran his soap-laden hands over her breasts, taking his time, his touch hovering between sensual and casual. “Does this make you uncomfortable?”
Because she wasn’t facing him, wasn’t staring into those sea-blue eyes, she could be honest. “A little.”
“Why?” He turned her to face him. Confusion tinged with anger lowered his brows. “Would it be easier to handle if my dick was inside you while I soaped you up? Or better yet, left you ass-up on the couch and just took off, so it’s just about sex and not about caring?” He shook his head in disgust. “You need better lovers.”
Like a fast-moving thunderstorm, his expression cleared and his irrepressible grin returned. “It’s a good thing you have me.”
She snorted, her discomfort pushed back by wry amusement. “You sure are cocky, Mr. O’Halloran.”
Making sure she watched him, he slid a hand down his water-slicked chest and abs to wrap around his half-awake cock. “Yes, yes I am.”
A rueful laugh escaped her throat. “I need to know what vitamins you’re taking. That energy would come in handy when I’m performing.”
“Performing?”
“The burlesque show.” She nudged him with a hip. “Did you forget the dance from yesterday already? I suppose I will need those vitamins.”
“That dance will be forever seared in my memory. I just forgot that you strip for other people.” He froze in the act of lathering himself up, realization dawning in his eyes. “You’re a stripper.”
“Let’s get one thing perfectly clear.” She thumped his chest. “I am not a stripper. I’m a performer, part of a troupe of entertainers who sing as well as dance. I strip down, yes, but only to a G-string and pasties. No one’s making it rain on me or stuffing dollar bills into my garter belt.”
She glowered at him, hands on her hips. “If you can’t handle that, this ends now.”
“Whoa.” He held up his hands in a placating gesture. “I’m sorry. It just hit me what that means. I didn’t mean to offend you.”
“I know you didn’t.” She took the soap from him and began to return the favor, lathering his magnificent frame with slow sweeps. “You said you might like to catch one of my shows. I think that’s a good idea. We’re performing two weeks from this coming Saturday. Nadia and her boyfriend will be there, and so will some other friends. You can experience the full production of the Crimson Bay Bombshells in all our glory and see what you think.”
He wrapped his fingers around her wrist, stopping her from lathering his chest for the second time. “You mean, see if I can handle the audience ogling you.”
She gave him a frank stare. “That’s exactly what I mean. Some of the troupe members date others in the scene or leave their significant others at home because they get jealous of the fact that strangers get to stare at their nearly naked partners. You think you can get through a show without getting a complex?”
“There’s only one way to find out, and that’s to say yes to the challenge.” He pulled her under the spray for a long, lingering kiss that left her clinging to him. “I meant to do that when I first came in, but you have a way of blowing my mind.”
“As long as we’re even.”
A slow grin spread over his face. “If you’re dead set on being even-stevens, then I owe you another orgasm.” He quickly cleaned up, rinsed the soap off, then shut off the water. “How about we discover what it’s like to have sex in a bed?”
“A bed?” She winked at him. “Why, Mr. O’Halloran, you do like to live on the edge.”
TEN
Two weeks ago, if someone had suggested to Charlie that he’d be going to a drag club to attend a burlesque show because the woman he was having sex with was one of the performers, he would have laughed in their face. Yet here he was, paying the cover charge for Club Tatas and searching out Siobhan’s friends in the most eclectic group of people he’d ever witnessed.
“Hey, Charlie!”
A brunette in a dark green corset waved at him. He did a double take as he realized the stunner was Nadia, Siobhan’s business partner. He made his way to her table, front and center to the stage, where she enveloped him in a huge welcoming hug. “You made it!”
“I wouldn’t miss it¸” he answered, breaking away from her. “This will be my first time catching the show.”
“It’s a great show.” A dark-haired man stood behind Nadia, dressed head to toe in black. He put a hand to the back of her neck, toying with the black lace choker at her throat. Charlie didn’t miss the possessiveness of the seemingly casual gesture, but he didn’t need the warning. He wasn’t there for Nadia.
Still, “That’s a pretty pendant,” he said, pointing to the gold symbol dangling at the hollow of he
r throat. “Does it mean something?”
“It does indeed.” Kane’s deep voice flowed as smooth as water and dangerous as an undertow. “It’s the kanji character for ‘precious.’ A treasure for a treasure.”
Nadia smiled as she reached up to touch the pendant. “Kane—Mr. Tall, Dark, and Possessive behind me—gave it to me. Kane, I’d like you to meet Charlie O’Halloran of O’Halloran Business Solutions. I told you about him, that he’s working with Siobhan on our delivery business and they’ve finally progressed to seeing each other.”
She reached back, thumping the man behind her on the chest. “Charlie, this is my man, Kane Sullivan. When he’s not marking his territory, he’s a professor at Herscher University and I love him dearly. Now shake hands so we can sit down.”
They did, and Charlie took a seat next to a dark blonde woman in a shiny black bustier. She wore a collar with a leash dangling from it, the end held by another woman dressed in a three-piece suit. “Hi, Charlie,” the blonde said in a deep tenor. “Siobhan will be glad to see you.”
“Jas? Nadia’s assistant, Jas?”
The blonde grinned at him. “Yep. I like to slip into something a little more comfortable after hours.” He nodded to the woman beside him. “This is my fiancée, Tracy. And you know Rosie from the café. With her is her boyfriend, Oscar.”
Charlie shook hands with all of them, wondering if he was the only “normal” one at the table, dressed in black slacks and a bright blue short-sleeved shirt, though Rosie seemed normal despite her pink and purple hair. Then again, in a progressive college town, normal was relative. His day-to-day life would probably seem boring in comparison to those gathered around him, at least on the outside. On the inside, his evolving sexual tastes had him drifting further away from normal every time he and Siobhan got together.
Not that he minded. Exploring the boundaries of what he would and wouldn’t do with a willing partner just enhanced his experience with Siobhan. The fact that she didn’t blink, didn’t balk, and suggested things herself made being with her all the better. She was a fantasy come true.
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