“And do you find any of those activities a complete and total blast?”
“I’ve never tried screwing a freshman, but I do like theater. Musicals, specifically, but Charles hates them. He’s into character pieces. And political monologues.”
Owen yawned exaggeratedly. “You aren’t boring, Caitlyn,” he said. “You were just married to a total, snobbish bore for so long, you haven’t had a chance to figure out what you find fun.” He leaned in to kiss the pulse point beneath her ear. “Or sexy.”
“I find you to be both fun and sexy,” she said, her fingers burrowing into his soft hair to keep his mouth on her.
“So maybe now you’ve found the right man to bring you back to life.”
She urged his head back by tugging on his hair. “You’re not getting serious about us, are you?”
He searched her eyes for a long tense moment and then smiled as if he’d just told the biggest joke ever conceived. “Of course not. Whatever gave you that idea?”
Wishful thinking?
No, not that. She didn’t want a serious relationship so soon after her divorce. Especially not with a younger man, a rock star, or a party animal. And Owen was all of those things. He was definitely what she needed to get out of her funk, but not life-partner material. Not that she was looking for that anytime soon. Because she wasn’t.
“You said I’d found the right man.”
“To bring you back to life.” He produced a scoffing snort and stared off over her shoulder. “Not to marry you.”
“Right,” she said, thinking he was a bit too affected to be entirely sincere about his detachment. In her head she could still hear Kellen’s warning about Owen falling too hard and fast and how easily he got his feelings hurt, as well as her promise not to destroy him. “I just want to be clear: I’m not looking for more than a little fun and a lot of amazing sex.”
“Well, then,” he said. “You’ve come to the right player.”
Chapter Five
What the hell was wrong with him? Why did he get attached to women so quickly? Owen could manwhore the hell out of a one-night stand, but if he so much as had a decent conversation with a woman, his heart and mind were already making room for her to become the center of his universe. It scared the hell out of any woman who had a shred of self-identity, and he couldn’t blame them for putting up barriers. But, damn, it was hard to keep his head on straight when it was already spinning. He was just going to have to think of Caitlyn—and her fantasy list—as a series of one-night stands. They could have fun and fuck, and he could walk away in two days with fond memories of getting his rocks off with a beautiful woman without any emotional connection to her.
Sure he could. He hugged her against him and looked over her shoulder at the list that lay on the counter. He’d been serious about fulfilling all her fantasies and showing her a few she didn’t realize she had, but he wasn’t a robot. He couldn’t see himself licking whipped cream off her at 1:30 p.m., fucking her bent over a stool at 1:45, adding a vibrator to her ass at 1:50, and spanking her until they both reached orgasm. Okay, he was a liar; he could totally see himself doing all those things. It was the schedule that was destroying his mojo. Maybe he wanted to spank her before he stuck a vibrator up her ass. Or maybe he wanted the vibrator in her pussy and his dick pounding her ass. Had she ever considered those possibilities? He knew he’d rather lick chocolate off her body than whipped cream—chocolate required more thorough tongue action.
But he didn’t want to disappoint her, so he backed her into the counter and reached for the can of whipped cream sitting beside a small tube of lube, a slender vibrator, and a wooden paddle. She had lined them all up in a neat row next to a tub of wet wipes and a box of the brand of condoms he always used. He was surprised she hadn’t labeled everything and added a place card labeled “Kitchen Fantasy #1” followed by step-by-step instructions.
He wouldn’t tease her for knowing—or thinking she knew—exactly what she wanted, but he would mix things up a bit. She was an intelligent woman. She’d soon see that spontaneity was the most exciting part of making love.
Pinning her butt against the cabinets by pressing his pelvis firmly against hers, he leaned back and sprayed a dot of whipped cream into the hollow of her throat. He collected the cream with a gentle swipe of his tongue, and she moaned. Surprised by her excessive reaction, he tried to meet her eyes, but she had them closed.
“Are you up for a little experimentation?” he asked.
Maybe having him follow a script was a total turn-on for her. Maybe it was thinking she was completely in control that had her nipples so hot and hard they seared his chest. Maybe bossing him around made her ache for him the way her sexy voice and thick mane of black hair made him ache for her.
Her eyes cracked open, and she met his gaze with an inquisitive brow raised. “What kind of experimentation?”
She was a scientist, so maybe that word meant something more to her than it did to him.
“Do you have any chocolate syrup? I want to show you something.”
She looked relieved that he hadn’t suggested something more wicked. “I’ll get it.”
She squeezed out from between him and the counter and circled the island. His gaze moving from ankle to ass, he admired her smooth, curvy legs. His otherwise unrestricted view of her nudity was blocked by a narrow swatch of yellow fabric.
“Take off your panties,” he demanded quietly. “I want to see your ass while you obey me.”
She turned abruptly, her hair shifting across her bare back and shoulders, and her soft brown eyes sparking with challenge. When she caught him smirking at her, a bit of the fire went out of her. Or at least that was what he thought until she said, “Make me.”
That was not the reaction he’d expected out of Little Miss Make a Schedule for My Fantasy List. “What?”
“You heard me,” she said, straightening her shoulders, which lifted her breasts into high, perfect globes that demanded he put his mouth on them immediately. “If you want me to take them off, you’ll have to make me.”
He rubbed the back of his neck as he considered her challenge. “I’m not the kind of guy who makes a woman do something she doesn’t want to do.”
One corner of her mouth lifted, as if she thought she’d won. “I guess they stay on, then.”
“I’m the kind of guy who makes a woman want something she shouldn’t so much that she willingly obeys.”
“Is that so?”
She opened the refrigerator and pulled out the bottle of chocolate syrup he’d requested. He didn’t bother pointing out that she was doing what he’d told her to do.
“You haven’t figured that out about me yet?” he asked, watching the gentle bounce of her breasts as she returned to him with the chocolate syrup in hand.
“We haven’t known each other for long,” she reminded him.
“I keep forgetting.”
He popped the top of the syrup and drizzled a thin line along her collarbone. He licked it with the same gentle caress he’d used when he’d collected the whipped cream from the same spot. Traces of sticky chocolate remained on her skin, so he licked more rigorously and then suckled and licked a little more.
“See the difference?” he murmured.
“N equals one,” she said.
He lifted his gaze to meet hers and found her watching him with interest. “Huh?”
“Your experiment has only one piece of data,” she said. “You’re going to need far more trials to prove your hypothesis.”
“What’s my hypothesis?”
“You tell me.”
Brainy chicks . . . always a challenge. And definitely worth the effort. “Licking chocolate syrup off your lover’s body brings more delight to them than licking off whipped cream.”
She nodded curtly. “Proceed with your experiment, Mr. Mitchell,” she said.
He grinned and shook his head at her serious tone. “Someone needs to get laid.”
“You can proceed wit
h that as well,” she said.
He sprayed a dab of whipped cream on her nipple and licked it off with one gentle sweep of his tongue. She shuddered and leaned back against the counter for support. He squirted a small sample of chocolate on the same nipple before licking and sucking it clean again.
Switching to the other nipple, he started with chocolate and then once he had her skin clean and her body trembling, he finished with a dab of whipped cream.
“So?” he whispered. “What’s the verdict?”
“Am I allowed to like them both?” she asked.
“Do you like them both?”
She nodded.
“Absolutely not,” he teased, cupping her face and rubbing his thumb across her lips. “You’re only allowed to enjoy what I want you to enjoy.”
“And what would that be?”
“Everything I do to you.” He kissed her gently. “If something feels a little strange or uncomfortable, I ask that you give it a chance, but if you don’t like something, just tell me.”
She nodded. “I ask that you do the same.”
She took the bottle of syrup from him and squeezed a drip onto the center of his belly. She squatted in front of him and licked it off, slowly at first and then with more enthusiasm. Excitement stirred low in his gut and his cock began to rise. She’d failed to mention that this would be a reciprocal experiment. Not that he was complaining. His breath caught when she hooked her fingers in his shorts and tugged them off over his ass. She took the whipped cream from his hand—which was good, because he was liable to drop it in his distraction—and sprayed it on the head of his cock. The gentle slip of her tongue against his rapidly engorging flesh made his knees weak.
“Whipped cream wins that trial,” he said, “but I think you’re supposed to test both in the same location to make the experiment valid.”
“I didn’t realize you were so well versed in scientific experimentation,” she said, drizzling chocolate just inside his hip and along the ridge of the vee he hoped would point her tongue in the right direction. By the time she finished licking and sucking that bit of chocolate off, his fingers were tangled in her hair and his head was tipped back in complete abandon. Apparently she’d decided to take command of the experiment, but she wasn’t being very scientific about it as she again sprayed whipped cream on the tip of his cock and drove him insane with overly gentle, teasing licks.
His breath came out in an excited sputter. Caitlyn rose to her feet and handed him the bottle of chocolate syrup and the spray can of whipped cream.
“Your turn,” she said.
As much as he wanted to make a banana split out of her pussy, she still had her panties on, and he refused to take them off for her or force her to take them off. He was on a self-directed mission to get her to take them off without him having to tell her again. He pulled a stool toward them with one foot and turned her to face it. Setting their food experiment aside, he slid the paddle off the counter, watching her closely for her reaction. Her eyes darted to her fantasy list and then the paddle in his hand.
“Bend over, Caitlyn.”
She made a sound in the back of her throat, a sort of anxious moan, and he thought she would refuse his request. That was okay, because he wouldn’t force her to do anything. Not even the things she’d written on her list. But she bent over the stool and grabbed the sturdy legs with both hands. She was all sorts of tense when she gushed, “I’m ready.”
He moved to stand behind her and pressed the head of his cock into the heated flesh exposed to him. Unfortunately, his progress was stalled by the pair of panties he’d so thoughtfully—stupidly!—purchased for her. He rubbed a hand along the bare skin of her flank and then the covered part of her ass to remind her that she was still partially clothed. He took a step back and flicked his wrist to tap her ass with the paddle.
Her body tensed, and she cried out in surprise. But not pain. He hadn’t swatted her hard enough to cause pain.
“Again,” she said breathlessly.
He gave her one firm swat and then set the paddle on the countertop. He moved in close again, making sure she could feel how turned-on he was, and reached for their experimental props again. He dripped some chocolate onto her spine between her shoulder blades and then added a mound of whipped cream on top.
“This,” he said as he licked at the sweetness, “is what I’d be doing to your pussy.” He licked a little more rigorously. “And your asshole.” Her breath caught, and he sucked at the chocolate on her back. “If you knew how to obey.”
“I bent over the stool,” she protested.
He rubbed his cock up and down her seam the best he could with those damned panties holding him back.
“Take them off me,” she said, widening her stance. Opening herself to him. Driving him insane with his need to be inside her. “I won’t stop you.”
“I told you to take them off,” he reminded her, and with every shred of willpower he possessed, he took a step back.
She groaned in protest, but changed her tune when he reached for the paddle and smacked her ass twice, the sound muffled by fabric. He figured that would gain her cooperation, but she stood there, ass in the air, rocking her hips slightly as if trying to hypnotize him with thoughts of her flesh completely exposed to his fevered gaze.
He shook his head to clear his thoughts. It would be so easy to reach over and peel her panties down her thighs, but this was a test of wills he planned to ace. Setting the paddle aside, he traced the entire length of Caitlyn’s spine with a single line of chocolate syrup. She shuddered when he added dots of whipped cream on either side of the chocolate. This time as he bent over her to sample the chocolate along her back, he rocked into her, pressing her wet panties into her opening with his distractingly hard cock. She surprised him by jerking her panties down her thighs. He surprised them both when he sank into her warmth unprotected.
“Oh God,” she groaned, surprising him further by pressing backward, driving him deeper.
He gritted his teeth together as pleasure completely encompassed him, trying to rob him of every fragment of logic he possessed. Yet the image of a very pregnant Lindsey brought him partially back to his senses.
“Cai-Cait-ly-lyn,” he said, gasping on every syllable. “I don’t have a condom on.”
“Is that why your piercing feels so fantastic?”
She rocked into him, encouraging him to thrust. His fingers dug into her hips as he gave in to what she wanted, what they both wanted—warm, slick softness holding him, grasping and tugging at him.
He needed to be deeper. Deeper. His balls slapped against her, and she groaned, meeting him stroke for stroke as he pounded into her.
One terrifying thought of finding himself the father of not one but two illegitimate babies gave him the strength to pull out. He reached for the box of condoms, fingers fumbling with the packaging. He was ready to fulfill her being-spanked-while-getting-fucked agenda item, but he needed the proper protection first.
“I don’t want you to wear a condom,” she said.
He dropped the box, sending colorful strips of condoms scattering across the kitchen floor.
“What?”
“I guess I should be worried about disease or something, but I’m not. Are you? If you are—”
“Pregnancy,” he said. “That’s what I’m worried about.”
“There’s no chance of that, Owen. We’re covered.” She laughed and turned to look at him. “Actually, I hope you don’t cover it ever again. That felt so good.”
“No condoms?”
She nodded slightly. “No condoms.”
“Are you on the pill?”
“IUD.”
“Are you taking St. John’s Warts?”
“Nooooo,” she said, looking concerned for his sanity.
Did he trust her? He did with his body, but with his future? What if she tried to trap him the same way Lindsey was trying to trap him? He knew that was what Lyndsey was trying to do, and still he was too much of a
pushover to tell her to fuck off.
“I’m sorry,” Caitlyn said, reaching for his hand and squeezing it. “I’m being selfish. If you want to wear a condom, of course you should wear one.”
But he didn’t want to wear one.
“Bend over that stool, Caitlyn,” he said, reaching not for the paddle but for the whipped cream. She didn’t argue with him at all as she turned and grabbed the legs of the stool again. Now he could see everything she had to offer between her thighs, and he was more than ready to experiment.
Chapter Six
Caitlyn sucked in a breath as something cool landed on one ass cheek and then the other, and she nearly hurdled the stool when the same sensation awakened the oft-neglected hole between them. Owen’s soft, warm tongue collected the near-weightless cream from each cheek—a delightful enough sensation—but it was the anticipation of him sampling the whipped topping at the center that had her belly quivering. One barely perceptible swipe of his tongue against her back door had her knees wobbly and her lungs laboring for air.
“You like that?” he asked.
“I couldn’t tell,” she said, hiding a teasing grin as she kept her focus on the floor. “Better try it again.”
With a metallic clatter, he set the whipped cream aside which hopefully meant he was reaching for the chocolate syrup. She remembered what they’d learned from their experiment—chocolate took more pressure and effort to lick from the skin. So with breathless anticipation, she spread her feet another few inches and squeezed her eyes shut. The syrup felt foreign against her flesh, and she clutched the legs of the stool to steady herself as he began to lick her in a place she’d only imagined having licked. She never thought she’d be with a man dirty and kinky enough to actually do it. The sensation of his tongue teasing the periphery of her hole in firm, wet, and slippery strokes had her craving something more.
“Owen,” she said desperately, “fuck my ass.”
He stopped delighting her ass with his tongue to say, “No can do. That’s not on your list.”
She knew that list had been a mistake.
Thrill Me (One Night with Sole Regret Book 9) Page 8
