by Nancy Warren
She placed her lips so close to his ear that he felt her breath, and read in a voice that was soft and smooth:
I can barely stay on my chair. I wish she’d tied me there so I wouldn’t have to control myself, but she hasn’t. She stops me with a glance. I can see her, smell her, and it’s killing me not to touch her, taste her, take her.
6
“DO YOU RECOGNIZE those words?” she asked, still in that soft, teasing tone.
“Ye—” She stopped him with a finger to his lips. He swallowed. Nodded his head.
“You wrote those words.” She shifted and he felt the warmth coming off her skin. “Do you remember what you wrote next?”
He nodded again. But she read his words anyway. He could tell they were turning her on as much as they aroused him.
She’s close to naked, but still wearing that sexy underwear when she comes closer and straddles my lap.
He watched her move, stand in front of him for a moment, so confident and sexy, her legs parted, looming above him like a dominatrix. But instead of a whip in her hands, she brandished the words he’d written.
Catching his gaze and holding it, she straddled him. He felt her weight pressing on his thighs, felt the heat of her and, in spite of her cool demeanor, he felt the slight trembling in her body. She leaned forward, let her hair sweep across his face in a blond curtain as she once more put her lips against his ear.
Yes, I think. Finally. She undoes my tie, slips it out of my collar and then before I know what she’s got in mind, she’s putting it over my eyes and tying it behind my head.
When he’d written the stupid fantasy, he’d never envisioned acting it out. He’d wanted to catch Kit’s attention, create a fantasy that was both erotic and tasteful, the way he assumed Piper’s hotel would be. Never had he dreamed Kit would be straddling him on a hotel chair. The scent of her and the feel of her were all so familiar and yet so new. He felt her hair brush him as she moved so they were face-to-face, almost but not quite close enough to kiss.
She reached for his tie, which he’d foolishly left hanging open over his shirt, teasing him with it as she slipped it off. He tried to protest, looked as eagerly at her body as if he were a desert traveler gulping water at an oasis before being dragged away.
Then his world went dark as she tied the cool, slippery fabric of his own tie over his eyes.
Without his sight, all his other senses intensified. He felt her thighs, pressing warmly against his, heard her quick, shallow breathing, smelled her skin and her woman’s scent.
“No,” I say. I want to see her, but she only laughs, then she takes my hands and lets me touch her. She lets me take off her bra, and it’s killing me because I can’t see her. I feel as if I’ve known this woman forever, and that I’ve never met her. I touch her skin and feel the heat coming off her, I touch her intimate places, and know she wants me. Will she let me love her? I don’t know. I’m in agony, but it’s up to her.
Those final words echoed in the air around him. In the darkness behind his blindfold he couldn’t read the expression in her face or eyes. Would she let him love her or would she torture him?
“Kit, I—”
“Touch me,” she whispered.
He didn’t have to be asked twice.
He reached first for her breasts, because he couldn’t help himself. When he touched them, she sighed. He traced the shape of them through the silk, loving the textures, the way his fingertips made a shushing noise as he rubbed her nipples. She drew her breath in sharply as the flesh pebbled against his fingertips.
She shifted and he felt her hair slide across his face as she leaned even closer. He could smell the scent of her thick lip gloss, and that made him picture her lushly painted mouth as she whispered, “What will happen next?”
He heard the crackling of paper. “Will she let me love her?” Her voice was low, sexy, as though considering the question. “I don’t know. It’s killing me. It will be up to her. Her choice. Her decision. She’s in control.” He heard his own words, realized she’d added a few of her own and that he’d had no idea when he originally penned his fantasy how much he would hate giving up control. Especially to a woman with a legitimate ax to grind.
He hadn’t realized how intense his need would be, with the woman he was in love with—the woman he now realized he’d loved for years—splayed across his lap. What he couldn’t see, he could imagine. The black silk panties would be pulled taut against her body, and he’d have teasing glimpses of her secrets.
She kissed him, and since he hadn’t seen it coming, the shock of her lips, glossy and sticky against his, was like his first kiss ever. He leaned into it, into her, and she leaned back. He had the clasp open on her bra and her gorgeous breasts spilled into his eager hands.
Hers were busy getting him out of his shirt.
She ran her hands over his bare chest, his belly, then attacked his belt and zipper even as he reached to rub her through her silk panties.
She hissed in her breath as he touched her, feeling the heat pulsing from her. Too eager for finesse, he plunged his hand into her panties, needing to feel her, soft and slick and ready.
“Let me,” he gasped. “Let me love you.”
“Yes.”
There was no way the chair could hold them, what with him trying to get her panties off at the same time she was trying to get his trousers. They tumbled off and onto the floor—the plush, deeply carpeted, made-for-rolling-around-having-wild-sex floor.
“I really, really need to see you,” he said.
She kissed him again, rolling on top of him and straddling him. She didn’t answer for a long moment and he tried to see himself from her vantage point, on the floor, mostly naked, with his own tie around his eyes. He felt her gaze on him. Knew he could simply rip off the tie and be done with it, but he also knew that she needed to be in control this first time, and he needed to give her that. So he waited, gazing sightlessly up at her.
“I guess I made my point,” she said, and to his great relief, reached behind him and removed his blindfold.
He blinked, and blinked again as the fuzzy, pink-tinged image focused and it was Kit beside him on the floor, all pink and cream skin, with the black stockings and heels spicing things up.
“Oh, you are so beautiful,” he said, gazing up at her.
“Don’t move,” she said, and ran to the bedside table, where Hush naturally stocked a variety of condoms. He watched her, reminding himself of all the parts of her body he liked so much. The round ass, the thighs she always complained were too big, but that he thought were muscular and sexy, especially when they gripped him.
The line of her back, and the delicate bones of her shoulders.
Breasts, belly, hips—all of her in her various parts that added up to such an amazing package.
She returned with a couple of foil squares, ripped one open with her teeth and sheathed him with her own hands. She took her time about it, sneaking in a caress or two, as though she was enjoying learning his body again as much as he was enjoying relearning hers. Letting her keep control, he stayed where he was on his back, feeling the soft wool of the carpet rubbing his spine.
She straddled him slowly and he watched intently as she gripped him in her hand and guided him to the entrance to her body. He barely breathed as she lowered herself slowly onto him, inching him slowly into heaven.
When she’d settled all the way, and he was as deep inside her as he could go, he gripped her hips, holding her against him so he could savor that first moment of complete connection.
He felt her heat, her snug, wet heat and the connection running between them that was so much more than physical. Their gazes caught and held, and he saw a flash of vulnerability. Something pulled deep inside him as he realized that he hadn’t ever connected so deeply with anyone. Ever.
And then she closed her eyes against him. He felt a slight shudder run through her body, and then she was moving on him. He caught her rhythm and stayed with her, touching her
as she rode him, touching her everywhere, her breasts, her hips, and, when he saw her eyes start to lose their focus, he touched her clit, rubbing it the way he remembered she liked it. When her head fell back on a cry, he thrust up, up and up inside her, pushing her over the edge, and then following in a great roaring rush.
MMM, KIT THOUGHT as she lay slumped on top of Peter, feeling his heart thud beneath her breast. Just mmm. There was lots more that she could think, but anything more than a contemplation of her current state of physical well-being seemed like a dangerous idea.
Peter drew idle patterns on her back with his fingertips and she let herself enjoy the sensation and the utter relaxation in her body at this moment.
“That wasn’t bad,” he mumbled against her hair.
“Not bad?” She raised her head to glare down at him.
He grinned slowly, the tilt of his mouth widening slowly until he was beaming up at her. “Not bad for round one.”
The relaxation that had enveloped her a moment past was gone as a familiar tension in her lower body built again.
“And this time,” he said, rising to his feet and taking her hand, “I want to try that big fancy bed.”
Oh, why not? Once was definitely not enough of something both so delicious and so addictive. It had been—how long? She tried to remember. Six months at least since she’d had sex, and that really hadn’t been anything to get too excited about.
She felt as if she’d taken back control of this weekend rather definitely. By being the one to instigate sex, she felt she was calling the shots, and that was important to her with this man. Now she could be generous enough to let him take over round two. Which he did by placing her on her back, leaning over her and kissing her slowly.
He kissed her as though they were sharing their first kiss. He touched her lips gently with his own, moving his mouth over hers, warming her lips before touching her tongue lightly with his own. His restraint and sweetness charmed her, and she followed his lead, licking at him slowly, kissing as though they weren’t going any farther than a kiss.
Oh, she’d forgotten how kissing could turn her on. Soon, the restless energy was pulsing through her. She wanted more. More of his mouth, more of his body, more of the friction that would send her flying.
Her breathing grew heavy, her body restless, and still he kissed only her mouth in that soft, teasing way. After seven eternities, he kissed his way to her breasts, kissing the slopes, the undersides and finally the sensitive tips. His tongue flicked over a nipple and she felt the charge right to her toes. While his mouth was busy at her breasts, his hands stroked her sides, her belly, her thighs and then settled between her legs.
He followed the path of his hands with his mouth until he was settled between her parted legs and his mouth hovered over her. His moist breath stirred her curls. The thought darted through her head that she should stop him—she’d taste like latex—then she remembered that Piper had thought of everything. The condoms were all fruit-flavored.
Then she didn’t think anything at all because he put his mouth on her and put the same slow, restrained patience into licking her as he’d put into kissing her.
With the first rush of passion spent, she could enjoy a slower build, feel the pressure and moisture of his tongue, the way he explored even as he excited her. She built slowly, and then faster, until her hips were gyrating and her hands fisting against his shoulders.
So close.
He moved up her body and she would have begged him to take her if she didn’t feel him already there, not so lazy now, not so slow. But he still took the time to look deep into her eyes when he entered her slowly and completely.
Lust, passion, memory—it all came together in a kind of bittersweet pleasure as he moved inside her. His palms cupped her face and he kissed her over and over again, even as their breaths grew ragged.
She tasted herself and a hint of cherry on his lips. And then she tasted him: hot, intense, fully aroused male. He tried to gaze into her eyes as she came but she wouldn’t give him that intimacy, so she shut her eyes, wrapped her legs around him and gripped the firm muscles of his butt, kneading, pulling him deeper, grinding up to meet him.
As though a leash had snapped, he let himself go, bucking wildly against her until she shattered. It was the cue he’d waited for. Before her own cries had quieted, she heard him cry out his own release.
How could he be both so mysterious and so familiar, she wondered, as he rolled to his back, bringing her with him so she ended up snuggled against him, her head pillowed on his chest.
The sex was hauntingly familiar and yet so very different. The pull was still there, she admitted, as strong as ever, but now she knew that just because two people had amazing physical chemistry, it didn’t mean they were soul mates.
How naive she’d been.
Good thing she was older and smarter. Now she could enjoy Peter’s body and all the ways he knew how to please her without being in any danger of making a fool of herself a second time.
It seemed she was going to enjoy a fantasy weekend, too. When she’d planned to marry Peter, there had been a permanence in everything they did. She’d snuggle up to his warm body and think about kids and where they’d live, how she’d decorate their bedroom. Planning, she was always planning.
These days, her fantasy included making a stellar success of her career, enjoying life to the fullest and avoiding any entanglements that would impede the first two.
Now, she could focus on nothing but her body’s pleasure with a man who physically excited her and with no concerns at all that he’d try to entangle her. It seemed she was enjoying a fantasy weekend, too.
PEOPLE HAD various notions about time travel—whether it was possible, and if so, how it was accomplished. Peter now knew that time travel was possible, and that for him, the portal to the past was making love with Kit.
He’d gone back in time. If he opened his eyes he’d see Kit’s school class schedule hanging on the wall. It had been one of those plastic permanent calendars and each class had been brightly labeled in a different colored marker, with her homework neatly penned beneath. He smiled at the recollection. She’d put math in black ink because it was her most loathed subject. Communications—her favorite—was in purple.
And yet, even as he fell back in time, he was also acutely in the present. She was wearing some light, sexy scent that was new, and he felt that he was different, more mature, old enough to appreciate what he’d so carelessly let go.
Was he any closer to getting her back now that they were so physically intimate? For all that their bodies had joined as spectacularly as ever, he felt, from the moment he’d seen that flash of vulnerability in her eyes, that she’d quickly hidden from him, that part of her was shut off. Maybe he wouldn’t have noticed if he couldn’t compare this Kit with the Kit of three years ago who’d been so open she never held anything back—not what she was thinking, or feeling, or what she wanted. Nor was she ever shy to ask him what he wanted.
Almost too open, he’d thought at the time. He wasn’t used to it—not quite sure what to do with anyone who showed so much energy for everything from arguing politics to Friday night volleyball to lovemaking. It had made him a little uncomfortable, as though he were secretive when he was really just being his normal self.
And, of course, now that she’d become guarded—like most adults who’d been scarred a few times—and she wasn’t putting it all out there, now that he wasn’t party to every thought she had the second she had it, every wild idea that she’d turn into reality if he gave her the slightest encouragement, he found he missed it.
He wandered alone down memory lane and then suddenly laughed aloud.
“What?” Kit asked beside him.
“Do you remember when you made us all dress up and go to some fancy do at the yacht club? It was for members only, but you were trying to interview some tycoon or other for a course you were taking. You and me and Piper and some guy she had on the string, we all dressed u
p and tried to talk our way into the yacht club. They would have tossed us out if you hadn’t been so convincing.”
She didn’t laugh along with him and he turned his head to see her smile perfunctorily. “That was a long time ago.”
“It was a good time, Kit.”
The possibility hovered in the air that she might actually let this conversation happen. For a second time, he caught sight of the vulnerability, he read the why in her eyes, and then it was gone. She rolled to the side of the bed and was on her feet before he could put out a hand to stop her.
He didn’t say anything, in case she was going to the bathroom, but when she started dressing, he said, “Where are you going?”
The bright smile she sent him was as phony as the Smiley Face on her watch. “I’ve got a million things to organize for tomorrow. Have to keep the big winner in the Carnaby Suite happy, you know.”
“You just made the guy in the Carnaby Suite incredibly happy. I’d be even happier if you stayed the night.”
The second time they’d made love had been slow and sweet, the kind of sex that ends in sleep. Except that he’d blown it by bringing up the past.
He stacked his hands behind his head and watched her.
Considering how long it had taken her to remove those clothes, she had them back on again in a heartbeat. He didn’t know a woman could dress that fast. She walked around the bed and leaned in to kiss him quickly, all efficiency. The intimacy they’d shared was gone.
“I’ll see you in the morning.”
He watched her all the way to the door, and when she left, with a cheery wave that made him feel dismissed and, frankly, pissed-off he wondered if there was a lonelier place in the world than an entire suite designed for sex when the woman you loved and wanted to make love to was walking out the door.
Okay, she’d played this scene her way.
