Red Velvet

by Noelle Mack

  Tom stared into her eyes. A beautiful, hiccup-free stillness washed over her. Wow. She had better keep talking. And a little more wine to calm her down wouldn’t hurt. She poured herself another glass, and poured him one too.

  “I was trying on that red velvet one you saw in the sketch just when you showed up with the Bertollini’s bag. Sewed it today.” That was a test. Would he keep his eyes firmly fixed on her face? He did. “You get a gold star. You didn’t look down.”

  “I wanted to.” His voice was just a little rough around the edges. So sexy. So male.

  Dee’s eyes went wide. “Oh. But there isn’t anything to see. This thing is giving me a monoboob.”

  “A what?” He couldn’t help smiling.

  “Oh, you know. Like what a sports bra does—mash and flatten.” She pulled her T-shirt up to her collarbones and leaned forward. Tom looked down at last. So did she. But the stretchy red velvet had softened and now lifted her breasts up just right, to full, creamy-skinned perfection.

  “Jesus,” he said, a note of awe in his voice. “Put those away.”

  Dee gulped and dropped her T-shirt. “They were mashed together before. I don’t know what happened.”

  He seemed to be struggling to keep a straight face. “Hey, you just invented a magic bra, Dee.”

  “If I did, it only works with Italian food.”

  Tom cleared his throat. “Maybe that’s it.”

  Dee blushed, embarrassed by her impulsive act but pleased all the same by the look of wonder in his eyes. “You know, this version might be The One. I have to take the seams apart and draft the pattern. If my overseas manufacturer can get it together, I might make a million after all. And then I can pay back Uncle Is.”

  Tom looked at her thoughtfully. “What does he have to do with it?”

  “He financed the start-up of my lingerie business. Just to be nice. He’s a great guy, he really is. I like him a lot better than my parents.”

  “Oh. And what do they do?”

  “Psychologists. Mostly they argue, and it usually starts off with that classic shrink question. How-do-you-feel-about-that. The truth is, after being married for thirty years, they don’t really want to know.”

  “Okay. That’s understandable,” he said slowly. “And, um, do they live in the building too?”

  “No. In the Bahamas. They’re both retired.”

  He let out his breath and poured himself another glass of wine. “Good. I don’t want any members of your family to know that I just saw your breasts. Much as I liked seeing them.” He drank half the glass, and coughed a little. “And I will never forget seeing them. But I think it’s time I took you home.”

  The moon, much smaller now that it was nearly overhead, cast a bright, faintly blue light over the terrace. Dee could see his expression clearly. He was interested in her, with a capital I. Which was great, because she had sort of forgotten what it felt like to have a man look at her with that degree of sexual longing. And as soon as she had the time for some serious fooling around, Tom Driscoll would be her first choice. He was a genuinely good guy. And smart. And sexy. And even pre-approved by her beloved Uncle Is. And if Tom respected her enough not to make a move on her after she’d pulled a stunt like that, she was looking forward to their next date. What she needed right now was to go to sleep. She’d draft the bra pattern tomorrow and get it in the works. Because it most definitely, although quite unexpectedly, had worked on Tom.

  “Okay,” she said cheerfully. “Sorry about that. I wasn’t really trying to tease you. I was just, you know, being sort of an idiot.” She waved at the wine bottle, knocking it over, grabbing it, and righting it. “Cabernet does that to me.”

  Tom made a mental note to find another bottle. He was sure there was one in his apartment. Which was not on the way, if he was going to take her home, but maybe she would be interested in seeing his new bathroom ceiling. Then he remembered it wasn’t finished yet. Maybe she would be interested in seeing where the old ceiling had been.

  “So, besides the bra, what do you like about me?”

  “The bra has nothing to do with it, Dee.” Tom set down his glass of wine on the coffee table and looked at her hopefully.

  Dee stayed at the opposite end of his black leather couch. “I’m not so sure.”

  “Aha. You need reassurance.” He leaned back, resting his arm on the arm at his end of the sofa, and sprawled out a little. “That’s why you’re six feet away.”

  “Not my fault your couch is so big.”

  Tom favored her with a wicked grin. “We could meet in the middle, you know.”

  “That’s so obvious.”

  “I would like to. What would you like to do?”

  “I don’t know.” Dee did know, but for right now, she was inclined to put off the moment of truth. Indecision allowed her to breathe, something that she was finding difficult to do when Tom was so near. Six feet of scuffed black leather upholstery between them just wasn’t enough. She could well imagine that he had scooted across it dozens of times, wrapped untold numbers of women up in passionate hugs, and then had hours and hours of fabulous sex with them. Sounded pretty good. She squirmed closer to the arm of the sofa and stared straight ahead.

  “Am I wrong in thinking that you’re, ah, interested?”

  “Interested in what?”

  He cleared his throat. “Sex.”

  She coughed and took a teeny-tiny sip of wine. “Eventually. It may be inevitable.” This cabernet was really good. He’d brought the bottle out from a different cabinet once they’d left the terrace and returned to his apartment.

  Bad move. Tom had gone all out: uncorked it with dramatic flair, done the swirly-sniffy appreciation thing, and set the bottle on the table so she could see the label.

  “Inevitable, huh?” He looked at her sideways. “Okay, I’m staying here.”

  Dee sat up a little straighter. “Fine with me.” Clearly he didn’t want to rush her, wasn’t going to pressure her, planned to let her set the pace. Which made her even more nervous. “Whatever. You didn’t answer my question.”

  “I’m thinking about it.” Tom rubbed his chin, making a faint, very faint, bristly sound.

  After nine at night, he needed to shave but his stubble was exactly right for nuzzling purposes. And Dee was definitely up for that, and a few other things she wouldn’t admit to. He just looked too damn good in sprawly male mode and semi-ripped jeans. Very après-work, very relaxed, very sexy. He shifted a little, as if he needed to adjust his balls but was way too polite to do so in front of a woman he didn’t know very well. She checked him out on the sly for a fraction of a second when he looked away, just to make sure that…yes. Possibly a semi. And long for that stage.

  Tom turned his head and caught her looking at his crotch. Dee blushed to the roots of her hair and took another teeny sip of wine. A profound silence followed, in which she could hear the ticking of a distant clock that wasn’t even in his apartment. He had a black digital model with glowing turquoise numerals. She fastened her eyes on 6:45, watching it turn to 6:46 and then 6:47.

  “Everything,” he said at last.

  Dee looked over at him, startled. “Huh?”

  “I like everything about you and I really want to kiss you. But I have a feeling that you want me to go slow.” He gazed up at the ceiling, lolling his head back on the cushion. “All that stuff you said, you know, about your dedication to your work and how busy you are—I understand. I respect that.”

  Dee didn’t remember saying any of that, not in so many words, anyway. Basically, she remembered how big the moon had been, and how good the takeout food had tasted in the fresh air, and how nice it had been to sit across from him at a very small table and talk about life. And flirt. Another sip went down, a larger one. “Please repeat the second half of the first sentence,” she said carefully.

  Tom sat up, and leaned forward a little, clasping his big hands together, his elbows resting on his thighs. He glanced over at her, then looked down
at the carpet. “I really want to kiss you.”

  “That’s what I thought you said,” Dee replied, breathing a little unevenly.

  “Would that be OK? Do we need a pre-kiss agreement or something, or would you be willing to just go for it?” He lifted his head and gave her a smile that was a potent mix of male charm and male uncertainty. Mingled with frank admiration.

  Of her. Just as she was, in dragon slippers minus a few sequins and a baggy T, monoboobed, a bit pink in the face from the wine. The only answer to that question came immediately to mind. “Let’s go for it.”

  “Woo hoo!” He clapped his hands once, a sound that echoed through the apartment. “Here I come. You ready?”

  Dee swallowed nervously. “Yeah.”

  He got up, stood over her, and reached out a hand to pull her to her feet. She rose to meet him halfway, trying to keep her knees from wobbling when he got his arms around her and bent down some, so he wouldn’t tower over her. The action pressed his muscular thighs against the lower half of her body—and she could feel his cock too. Fully erect. Down one leg of his jeans. His lips came down on hers, tentative and tender to a start. But Dee opened up like a tulip on speed.

  Oh, yes. Could Tom Driscoll ever kiss. She was totally into this, encircled in a mighty hug, melting with sheer desire.

  She slipped her arms around him and stroked his back while he kissed her, then slid her hands into his jeans pockets and got a grip on his butt. He grinned and broke the kiss.

  “All right. Guess I can sweep you off your feet now.”

  He reached down and lifted her with ease, one arm under her knees and one arm cradling her back. Dee buried her face in his neck, loving the way his skin smelled—like the night air on the terrace, like the linen shirt he had on, and like—she planted little kisses under his ear while she thought about it—like a sexually aroused, hot man.

  “Where are we going?” she murmured as he swung around.

  “My lair.”

  “I thought you were living in the penthouse.”

  He carried her with ease into the bedroom. “I am. Sort of.”

  Dee tightened her arms around his neck, not wanting to let go, not ever. But she would have to. She ran one hand inside his shirt, brushing her fingertips over hard male nipples and the dusting of dark chest hair between them. Tom drew in his breath.

  He set her down on the bed, not made but she didn’t care. Dee leaned back in the tumbled pillows, her hair spilling every which way, looking up at him while he unbuttoned his shirt. He put his hands on his hips, letting the shirt front fall open while he gazed down at her, like he was taking in every detail of her, from head to toe. Then he yanked the shirt off and threw it in a corner, leaving his jeans on, and got over her on the bed, kissing her neck and ears, and then her mouth.

  Dee sat up and pulled her T-shirt off. He pushed her gently back down, cupping her breasts through the bra, which barely held them. He pulled down the edge of the red velvet, making her nipples pop out.

  “Beautiful,” he murmured. She arched her back, and her breasts swelled over the cups. He took them into his big hands and got his mouth around a nipple, sucking for all he was worth, then did the same to the other one. Dee ran her fingers through his hair and watched him do it. His eyes closed and his lips tightened. The sensation made her pussy instantly hot.

  Dee didn’t want to move, didn’t want him to stop—he was so into sucking and his caressing strength was turning her on. His breathing was ragged when he sat back on his thighs, looking down at her. His cock was fully erect and she reached out to unzip him but he wouldn’t let her.

  “Play with those big tits for me. I want to watch.”

  She made a move to unfasten the bra and then remembered that she’d fastened it with a safety pin.

  “Leave it on.” His voice was lower, almost rough.

  She reached up to cup her breasts and gasped when he pushed her hands aside. “Never mind. I can’t wait.” He put his mouth over one nipple and squeezed both breasts, sucking hard on one, and then the other, moving up to kiss her neck and earlobe, sucking that next, moaning a little under his breath.

  Tom seemed consumed by a rush of need that surprised her. He’d been so calm on the couch, even nonchalant. Now, looking down at her, bare to his eyes from the waist up, with the bra supporting her breasts from underneath, he couldn’t seem to control himself. Reacting, Dee fumbled for his zipper and this time he helped her, holding onto the waistband and metal button so she could get it down quicker. He pushed his jeans down to just above his knees, boxers and all, and his cock jutted out.

  Her eyes widened. He was huge. And thick. That thing was rarin’ to go. He scrambled off the bed and got his jeans the rest of the way off, kicking them away before he turned around and yanked her sweatpants and underwear off with one swoop, making her ass bounce on the bed.

  “Whoa!” she said breathlessly. “What about a—”

  Tom pulled a foil packet out of the drawer in the nightstand. He ripped it open and sheathed himself with expert speed.

  “Okay. That take care of that question—mmff—”

  He shut her up with a kiss, getting over her on all fours and pushing her legs apart with his knee.

  On a ragged breath, he reared back to look between her legs. Tom stroked her labia, then moved his gaze to her face, watching her reaction with an intensity that excited her even more. He touched her clit and Dee trembled. “Touch yourself there,” he commanded.

  “Then don’t push my hands away.”

  In answer, he took her by the wrists and smoothed her hands down over her belly right where he wanted them. Over her pussy. She began to rub, almost shyly, then remembered doing just that alone in her bathroom, before he’d almost walked in.

  “Say my name when you masturbate,” he muttered. “And look at me. Don’t close your eyes. I love that woman-in-heat look—drives me crazy.”

  She ran her fingers over her slick clit and whispered his name. He breathed harder and his sheathed cock looked like it was about to burst free. He grabbed it and pushed the rolled rim down as far it would go, an action that made his cock look even longer and thicker. Dee got two fingers at the opening of her pussy and played with her labia. He looked—and she thrust her fingers inside, moaning now.

  Tom grabbed her wrist. He made her pull her fingers out and he licked them with sensual thoroughness. Then he put in his. One…then two…then three, just holding the fingers inside her, not too far but just right, while she contracted involuntarily around him. But she couldn’t come. Not without a touch or pressure on her throbbing clit. He seemed to know that.

  Tom pulled out his fingers and lowered himself over her, almost pouncing on her breasts, caressing them and tugging her nipples with sexy firmness. He reached underneath her with one hand, looking for the closure, and got the safety pin. In his thumb. “Ow!” he yelped, rolling off her and pulling out the opened pin. Then he sucked the blood off his finger.

  “Sorry,” she gasped. “I forgot I pinned it! The stitching’s not very strong—you can just—oh!”

  He bent his head down and took the side of the bra in his teeth, and jerked up. It ripped apart and he tossed it to one side, and jettisoned the pin at the same time. Dee’s breasts were bouncing, and he buried his face in them, clasping one so that the nipple peaked and getting it into his mouth.

  Tom stopped and took several deep breaths, watching her writhe beneath him. They were down to pure instinct now—no more holding back. He positioned himself between her spread legs and circled his fingers around the base of his cock, teasing her with just the tip.

  “Please,” she begged. “Give me it…all of it…”

  Tom entered her with one fast thrust that made her cry out. For several intense minutes, he fucked her hard, plunging his aching cock into her tight, slick folds, turning into a wild man. He held her breasts protectively, lifting his body with only his strong belly muscles so he wouldn’t crush them.

  Dee kissed hi
s straining neck, running her tongue over the cords that stood out, thinking for a second that he looked like a stallion, hot with sexual need and dangerously close to coming.

  She knew without him saying so that he didn’t want to, not before she did, and she ceased rocking under him, feeling him slow down and then still, breathing hard. A trickle of sweat ran down his temple and onto her cheek as he stopped to kiss her.

  “I don’t…I can’t…” he moaned against her lips.

  Dee realized that she was about five seconds away from coming herself. She slid her hands down his back and held his buttocks, pushing him into her with all her strength. Tom gave in, bucked, and rammed his cock in to the hilt, crying out and holding her in a powerful embrace that kept her from shuddering as she hit the same high. Once…then twice…and then he opened his eyes and looked into hers with a tenderness that shattered her heart.

  “Oh, Dee,” he said softly. “That was good. Much too good. Don’t think I could ever get enough of that.”

  “Shh.” She stroked his damp hair back away from his face and brushed her lips over his cheekbone. “Just hold me.”

  He rolled off without losing his grip on her. “You got it. You got me.”

  “So how come you like tits so much?”

  Tom gave her shoulders a squeeze, laughing way down deep. “I know there are no stupid questions, but that one qualifies.”

  Dee patted his flat, muscular pecs, still damp with sweat from sex. “Is it because you don’t have any?”

  “Oh, geez. Is this a variation on that old penis envy theory? Hell, no, that’s not the reason. Breasts are great. Soft. Smooth. Warm. Bouncy. I can’t remember not being fascinated by them. I even ordered those X-ray specs from an ad in my big brother’s old comic books when I was seven, hoping that I could see actual nipples.”

  “Boy genius.” Dee traced her fingertips over his nipples, and he shuddered pleasurably.

  “Okay, it was stupid but I was fascinated by women. Still am. The way they walk. Talk. Smell. Act weird and act wonderful in the same five seconds and never tell you why.”