She didn’t use a single dirty word or describe a body part, and yet she made him as hard as the concrete slab the neighbor lady braced herself on.
“Is that how we look?” she whispered. “Men and women?”
“Tell me how they look.”
“Beautiful,” she whispered, a reverent note in the one word. “I always thought that position was coarse and…” She bit her lip, thinking a long moment. “And dirty.”
“Dirty is good.”
She parted her lips, watching. “Not that I’m a prude or that I don’t like sex.”
Not a prude. Just that her partners, her husband, had never shown her the sexiness of being a little dirty. “How many men have you known?”
“Three. And no one since my husband.”
He liked women who were willing to experiment. She was the best of everything, older, ready, dying for the experience, yet a babe in the woods.
God, yes, there was so much he could teach her, so many things to show her, so many delights he couldn’t wait to introduce her to.
6
“ARE THEY FUCKING YET?”
The word jolted Rachel. The first time she’d ever used it, her mother had washed her mouth out with soap. The boys were strictly forbidden from saying it, though Nathan used it sometimes just to irritate her.
Yet in Rand’s deep tone, that word melted her. “Yes.”
“Say it. They’re fucking.”
She should be horrified. They were spying. If he was a peeper, then he was a pervert. If he did this, watched his neighbors, he could be capable of anything. Yet the man had seen them. He’d positioned his wife so Rachel and Rand had a clear view of his entry, and the woman had looked over her shoulder, straight at Rachel. She’d cried out only after she’d been sure Rachel was watching.
What’s more, Rand made the whole thing about her, not them. He watched her, not them. Told her to describe it for him, using her words to heighten his arousal. His heat enveloped her, his scent intoxicated her, and his voice mesmerized her.
“He’s fucking her so hard,” she told him, then felt him shift closer, until her skin flushed with his nearness. If he’d ordered her to put her hand on him, she would have. If he’d urged her to make herself come, she couldn’t have resisted. But he made it all hotter and more exquisite because of what he didn’t ask for.
She’d ached for him to taste her wet fingers. She’d died when he didn’t. Yet she was so much nearer to the edge of insanity because he hadn’t.
“Now. Tell me what she’s doing now.”
“She’s stroking her pussy, her clit.” The dirty words enflamed her. Fuck me, please, fuck me, fuck me, fuck me.
Two fingers on the base of her glass, he tipped her wine to her lips, made her drink. But he never touched her, never asked to, only watched her drink as if he were drinking her. “Tell me more,” he whispered.
“Her breasts are bobbing. Now she’s pinching her nipple.” Rachel felt as if it were her nipple, a streak of lightning from the tip to a secret spot deep inside. She squeezed her legs tight.
“Do you want to come?”
“Yes. Please.” She felt teary-eyed with need.
The man slammed home, grunted. The woman cried out, arched back. Pounding flesh, hot, as if it were her own.
“This is how good it can feel,” he said, soft, low, enticing.
She’d never felt this with Gary. Not with anyone. As if she were this man’s sole focus. As if she were the only woman he wanted. The only woman who could make him come. He was hard, his jeans tight around him, his scent musky with sex and need and desire.
The woman screamed with climax, and the man groaned in orgasm, the steam of the tub and their sex rising, shimmering, their forms wavering. She could have come with them if Rand touched her, just her arm, her throat. It didn’t even need to be erogenous.
“Go home.”
She looked at him, barely able to breathe, let alone understand.
“Go home.” His eyes were dark, his gaze unearthly. “Or I’ll fuck you right here, right now, against the railing.”
God, she wanted it.
“But you’re not ready.”
She could have cried, because she needed it. Yet he was right; she wasn’t ready. In the morning, no, even before that, the moment he pulled out, she’d start regretting. She would do this, but tonight was the appetizer. Tonight was about becoming ready, not being ready.
She rose. He didn’t walk her out.
When she was at the door leading into his bedroom, he said her name. She turned.
“You might be going home, but we’re far from done yet.”
His words made her shiver. She left on shaky legs. He hadn’t hurt her. He hadn’t scared her. She’d scared herself more with how badly she’d wanted him to take her against the railing so the hot tub couple could see. He was kinky. He was probably even perverted. But up there on his deck, he’d made her realize she could be those things, too. That she wanted to be those things, with him and for him. She wanted to be this man’s total focus. She deserved it.
After years of never taking chances, of taking care of everyone else, keeping the peace, always doing what was right and expected of her, what she was supposed to do, she wanted to throw caution to the winds.
He would ask for more, stretch her limits. And she would do whatever he wanted.
RAND LAY NAKED ON HIS BED, HIS HANDS STACKED BENEATH HIS head, the door closed against the cold night air, the lights off. His neighbors had lost interest in their performance once Rachel was gone.
She’d reacted perfectly. Telling him everything in an excited, breathy voice, her skin so hot he could feel the warmth she’d emanated without actually touching her.
Dazed, she’d left without her panties. They lay on the bedside table, close enough that he could scent her. From his den window, he’d watched her cross the quiet street. Her equilibrium had returned, and she’d driven off.
He could have had her out on the deck. He didn’t want it like that. Not tonight. Oh yes, certainly he wanted that someday, and sooner rather than later, but for tonight, he’d wanted only to whet her appetite, not to overwhelm her and send her running for cover.
She’d had only three lovers, one of them her husband. She hadn’t asked his history. If she had, he would have confessed that he’d had more than two dozen lovers. He’d seen the question in her eyes—why had he never married?—but her own rule kept her mum.
The truth was a complicated mess, he supposed. He came from an extended family that prided themselves on never having a divorce among them. Consequently, they had a hell of a lot of bad marriages, a fact brought home the first time he returned from college unexpectedly and caught his father with another woman, right there in the house, right there in his mother’s bed. It wasn’t a surprise, just an affirmation. He hadn’t avoided marriage, he’d simply avoided a bad marriage. He’d gone further than that, though, concentrating on his career and seeing only career-focused women, until somehow he’d ended up primarily in casual, transitory relationships. It had never bothered him. His career, which was more a vocation than a mere job, fulfilled him.
It all blended with what Rachel wanted. A casual relationship, yet a way to repair her battered self-esteem after her divorce. He was going to be so good at restoring her sense of worth.
The law of attraction had certainly worked its magic, bringing them together at just the right time. A month or even a couple of weeks earlier, she might not have been ready for him. He might not have seen all the possibilities of becoming her sexual mentor.
The phone rang. His cock hardened. He knew it was her. And he had plans.
“I got home safely,” she said to his hello.
“Where are you now?”
“Walking into my bedroom.” She was on her cell phone.
“Do you have your Bluetooth in?”
“Yes.” There was hesitation in her voice.
“Are you still wearing that leopard dress?”
“Yes,” she said, again with that wary pause.
He pictured her as she’d appeared earlier, sliding the dress up her thighs to take her panties off for him. “Lay on the bed and pull it to your waist, but no higher.”
“Why?”
He heard soft rustles, her breath, which ratchetted up his own sexual tension. “Don’t ask, just do.”
“Yes, sir,” she muttered, but he recognized the breathy anticipation in her voice.
“Tell me how wet you are.”
She didn’t say anything, and he pictured her hand between her legs. In his life, he’d taught a great many things that had no sexual connotation to people of a great many ages, but he’d never taught a woman how to pleasure herself for him.
“I’m very wet,” she whispered.
“Get out the vibrator you bought the other day. You bought it for me, didn’t you?”
“I bought it for me,” she stressed.
He liked the answer, but pushed her anyway. “To use while you were dreaming about me.”
“You’re pretty sure of yourself. You were nicer in person.”
He laughed. Another reason he liked older women: Despite any sexual naïveté she had, she wasn’t a pushover. “Would it make you feel better to know that I jack off in the shower to fantasies of you?”
“I thought that was just in general, not about me specifically.”
He detected a note of wistfulness in her voice. “Since we met, it’s been all about you. And now I want to jack off while listening to you come.”
“You mean like phone sex?”
“Not like phone sex. Real phone sex. Haven’t you done it before?”
“With who?”
“Anyone. An anonymous man you met on the Internet. You block your number when you call, then you both get off.”
“It sounds like you’ve been the anonymous man before.”
“I have. It’s hot.” As long as the woman’s voice was hot, and she let herself go. “I’m not mainstream. I like different things, and as long as no one gets hurt, they’re all good.”
“What if they’re married women?”
“They don’t admit it if they are.”
“Isn’t that like adultery?”
“No. It’s called taking them at their word.”
Her questions made him smile. She was either a hard case or she was nervous because she’d never had phone sex before and was afraid she wouldn’t be able to come or make him come. He was sure that together they would do both.
“Rachel,” he said, his voice a purr. “Fuck me now over the phone. Because your voice makes me hard, and watching you watch my neighbors tonight made me absolutely fucking crazy.”
* * *
HIS VOICE MELTED HER. HIS WORDS WORMED THEIR WAY INTO HER chest and wrapped around her heart. God, it was good to be desired.
But she was nervous. She’d never done anything like this. Within the space of a week, she’d bought a vibrator, used it every chance she got, then merrily driven off to a stranger’s house and watched someone else have sex. Now this.
He wanted her to fuck him with words. She didn’t know how. Yet that word was so…sexy. Yes, incredibly sexy. A week ago she would have said fuck was just another bad word and yelled at her boys for using it.
“Fuck me,” she whispered, testing it on her tongue, testing him.
“Do you know how badly I wanted to touch you tonight, to put my hand beneath that dress? I wanted to make you come, then lick it all off my fingers.”
She’d never known a man so carnal, so verbal, so seductive.
“Put your hand between your legs and pretend it’s me.” He mesmerized her with his voice, his words, until her hand was moving of its own volition. She traced the folds of her sex, pushed inside, trailed a moist finger over her clitoris.
“Tell me,” he urged. “Talk to me.”
“I’m so wet. I wish you were here. I want to taste you the way she was tasting him.”
“You want to suck my cock.”
“Yes.” She closed her eyes and imagined she could smell his tantalizing, musky sexual scent. “I want to suck you. I want to taste it and like it.” She’d never liked doing it for Gary. She wanted to do it for Rand. She didn’t care why it was different, whether it was Rand’s sensual nature that begged for it versus the routine of marriage dulling her senses. “I want to know how you taste,” she murmured, her mouth watering for him.
All the while her fingers moved and circled and dipped until her body was arching off the bed. She panted. “Yes, yes, I want to feel you in my mouth. I want to suck your cock deep, lick it, drain it, swallow you whole.” She’d never let Gary come in her mouth, but she was overcome with the need to drink Rand.
“I will be your first, your best. I will make you come until you scream, with my fingers and my mouth and my cock.” His voice was like a caress along her skin. Suddenly all the desire of the night, the excitement of watching, the fear of the unknown, then this, a man listening to her masturbate, it was all too much, too fast, and she felt a lightning bolt shoot down to her clitoris, burst with heat, then flash back out to every limb and beyond. She cried out his name as she came.
In her altered state, she believed she heard him shout out, too, and as she floated back down, she thought, I did it, I really did it. “Did you come?” she asked, hearing the hint of shyness in her voice.
“Fuck yes.” His voice was guttural, sexy, satisfied.
She laughed, feeling almost giddy. “You say fuck a lot.”
“Only for you. Fuck is a good word. It’s hot, it’s needy. It means a man will do anything.”
“As compared to making love.”
“Making love is good; it’s reverent. But it’s not desperate. I want you desperate for me like I’m desperate for you. Sex is best when it’s fucking desperate, when you can’t get enough, when you think about it all the time, when it consumes you. That’s when you want to fuck.”
She felt her heart beat hard and fast in her chest, her head swirling with his words. “But you didn’t touch me tonight. If you were desperate, wouldn’t you have just done what you wanted to do?” She’d turned down the heating since she was going out, and her bedroom was cool. She felt chilled and pushed her dress down her legs.
“Desperation heightens when you don’t get what you want.”
God, then she was desperate for him, so desperate.
“Rachel, next time you come here, bring your vibrator.”
Oh. Oh yes.
The Bluetooth beeped in her ear. Call waiting. It was probably one of the boys. “I have to go.” The last vestige of heat from her climax drained away. She thought about explaining, but the phone beeped again, and she realized that cutting him off was better than any explanation. It would add to the desperation he claimed he needed. It would be like that moment in his house when he told her to leave, the uncertainty, until he said he’d fuck her if she didn’t go. The push-pull, the up-and-down that made everything hotter.
So she simply tapped on her Bluetooth, hanging up, then answered the other call. “Hey.”
“Are you all right?”
It took her two seconds to realize it was Bree. “Oh. Yeah. I’m fine.” Better than fine. She glanced at the side table clock. Ten-oh-one. “You’re punctual.”
“You’re my friend.”
Rachel understood there was great meaning in that. “Ditto.”
“Are you still with him?”
“No.”
“Was it good?”
She couldn’t explain. Bree could never understand the kinkiness of what she did, the heat of doing it, the surprise, how much she wanted more of it. “It was very good.”
“Great. Since you’re fine, I have to go. I’m kinda tied up right now.” Rachel thought she heard a man’s deep chuckle. Bree’s boyfriend.
“Thanks for checking on me, Bree.”
“I’ll do it for you anytime.” Then Bree was gone. Yet again, there was importance in her words. Bree was g
iving her something she hadn’t given a lot of people. She was telling Rachel she was special.
She removed the Bluetooth, setting it on the bedside table. It was after ten. If the boys were going to call, they would have already. She was alone. Her body was sated. But it would be a week before she could have more.
Was she supposed to call him? Ask for sex? How should it work?
Then, in the dark, Rachel smiled. It would work any way she wanted it to. Because he was desperate for her.
For the first time in a relationship, she was actually in the driver’s seat.
7
ON SUNDAY EVENING, THE FRONT DOOR SLAMMED JUST AS RACHEL was putting the last of the Nathan’s folded laundry in his bureau drawers. She’d have more to do this week; when they went to their dad’s, they took full suitcases and returned with all the dirties.
“I’m back here,” she called. Gary dropped them off after dinner, so at least, following a day of cleaning and chores, she wouldn’t have to cook.
“Hi, Mom.” Justin, on his way to his room.
“Hi, honey.” She allowed herself a smile as she mouthed the greeting, thinking of last night with Rand and watching honey. She did not feel guilty about it now that her sons were home. She was allowed a separate life when they were gone.
Then Nathan wheeled his suitcase in, leaving it by the closet door. Her heart lifted when he actually smiled at her. He was such a beautiful boy, taller than her now, turning into a man right before her eyes. His hair was a lush brown, and she liked to think he’d have a strong face in a couple of years. More than anything, she wanted to reach out and push back his hair. But that would be considered babying.
“Mom, look.” He thrust a paper at her. She barely had time to read it before he started telling her all about it. “Dad registered me for the driving lessons. He said you could pay your half whenever you get the money. He doesn’t care how long it takes. All you have to do is sign this. I can even do the class stuff online. It’ll be a piece of cake.” His brown eyes sparkled with excitement.
Rachel could barely hold the paper without shaking. She wanted to shriek. Goddamn Gary. He’d put her in an untenable position. Because she either had to smile and lie and say how happy she was for Nathan, or refuse to sign and break his heart.
The Principal's Office Page 6
