Not that Sarah seemed to realize her frailty. She looked him in the eye and gave him smile for smile. ‘So what about your shoes?’
He looked down at his feet. Elastic-sided boots. He’d put them on, sockless, because they were fast to get into and out of, and he’d been in a rush to get her home and into bed. Now he wasn’t sure how best to remove them. If he bent down, he’d be close to her crotch—dangerous; toeing them off while standing would keep her breasts at arm’s reach—equally dangerous. In other words, he was fucked. Deciding her breasts were the safer option, he toed the boots off.
She gestured to his jacket and when he just stood there salivating, she reached for the lapels to get it off him. He let her remove his jacket, then took it from her and threw it carelessly on the floor. Next, she reached for the hem of his T-shirt, but as she started to raise it, the fleeting touch of her fingers against his lower abs had him shrinking away. ‘No,’ he said.
She looked confused. ‘No?’
Laugh—forced. ‘You’d need a stepladder to get it over my head.’ Not funny. Just a random excuse. Something better than If you touch my skin I’ll turn into a cannibal. ‘I’ll be faster.’ Yep, good word choice there, sport. It’s not supposed to be faster, you thick-headed bastard.
‘Fast is good,’ she said.
Don’t tempt me. He reached overhead for the back of his T-shirt. Started tugging.
‘But you know,’ she went on, ‘I wouldn’t need a stepladder if I’d kept my shoes— Oh. Oooohhh.’ It was breathed out, as his T-shirt landed on the floor beside them. Not that Sarah seemed interested in his T-shirt any more. Her gaze was firmly on his chest; her fingers were reaching out to trail over his pecs.
She seemed to have run out of words, and he couldn’t have spoken to save his life. So there was silence. Total, fraught, musky silence.
Her other hand was there now, fingers whispering on his skin. Two hands on him. Hot like a brand, although his nipples had hardened as though they’d just been doused in ice, and they never did that, because they weren’t an erogenous zone for him. It was almost a relief when her fingertips skirted around them … and a disappointment too. Which meant … what? Were his nipples an erogenous zone after all? Not that he would ever understand why it had taken thirty-four years for them to fucking tell him that!
But then her fingers started heading south, over his abs, lower, and his nipples were forgotten in the clear and present danger of the proximity of her fingers to his dick. A lightning-fast look down showed it poking its latexed head over the top of his undone jeans and half-off boxer briefs. It was practically twitching with need. Ho-ly shit! Do not throw her on the bed, do not, do not throw her on the bed.
‘Can I touch you?’ she asked in that breathy voice.
His dick pulsed, as though urging her on, and David had to shake his head to clear the red haze of lust. She couldn’t touch him, not yet. For one thing, he was afraid he’d explode on the spot; for another, he didn’t want the first time she touched him there to be through a condom.
Okay, there it was. He wanted the first time she took him in her hand to be skin-to-skin. What difference does it make? his penis all but begged. But he couldn’t help it, it did make a difference. ‘Later,’ he said—croaked, really, and busied himself shoving his jeans and underwear all the way down and off.
He straightened, aware that all that was between them now was one condom and a pair of skull knickers, which would have been funny if he’d had enough spit to lubricate a laugh—but the way Sarah was examining him, so avidly …? No way.
She licked her lips and he had to close his eyes. He wanted her mouth around him, wanted it so much, pictured it so clearly even with his eyes slammed shut, he really did think he’d go off any second.
‘What happens now?’ she asked.
David opened his eyes, but with the hunger coming at him in dark, urgent waves, he couldn’t find his voice.
She shivered. ‘You do realize I don’t have air conditioning here.’
‘So?’ he managed to rasp out.
‘So I’m cold.’
‘Blushing.’ Yep, talk about your monosyllabic moron.
‘Okay I’m not cold. I just want you to touch me.’
That was his Sarah. Irresistible. He snaked out an arm, grabbed her by the wrist, tugged her in. ‘Then come here, brat.’
‘I thought you’d never ask,’ she said, and settled herself against him. She shivered again as he folded her in. ‘Definitely not cold,’ she said, and kissed his chest, then sighed as she snuggled closer, nestling the side of her face against his chest. ‘I can feel your heart thudding.’ She reached for his hand, brought it to her breast, held it there. ‘Mine is too. Can you feel it?’
‘Yes.’ Agony. He moved his other hand, cupped the back of her head. He loved her short hair, loved that it left her neck bare to his fingers.
‘So I guess it’s up to me to start,’ she said. And with that, she turned her face into his chest and licked, close to his nipple. ‘You taste good.’
He was going to die, fucking die, fucking— ‘Arrrggghh, Jesus, Sarah.’ As she sucked his nipple right into her mouth, and he arched into it and wanted to beg her to never stop, never ever stop. A message she must have received telepathically, because she kept sucking.
His blood felt like it was on fire. It was raging through his veins, like an unleashed beast. One step, and she was on her back on the bed. One yank and her panties were gone. He dropped to his knees beside the bed, grabbed her legs, tugged her to the edge, shoved her knees apart … and there she was. So perfectly pink, and dewy, and lush. For one searing moment, he allowed himself to look, just look, as excitement built in him like a fever. He was shaking, his breathing ragged.
‘Touch me,’ she said, and it was enough. He fell on her like the starving cannibal he’d told himself not to be, so desperate was he to taste her. Mouth opening over her, tongue licking flat and hard. She spread her legs wider, clutching at his hair, urging him on. ‘Closer,’ she panted. ‘I want you closer, inside me.’ So he plunged his tongue into her, knowing the perfect angle to make her mindless as he moved it inside her. Yes, yes, yes, was pounding in his head.
He wanted her to beg for him, scream for him, love him, love him, love him—in this way at least. He lifted one of her thighs over his shoulder, positioning her for his fingers to slide inside now, testing, stretching, preparing her, while his busy tongue lashed the little pearl of her clitoris. Her hips were arching towards his hungry mouth, hands grappling for purchase on the bedcover. ‘I want … I want … oh God.’
‘What do you want?’ Lick. ‘What?’
‘You … I want … you … I want … Oh, oh, oooohhhh, yes, yes, yes, yeeees.’ Thighs going rigid, hands dragging at the sheet, shuddering as she flew apart, and he wanted, needed, to be inside her so badly he wasn’t sure he’d make it in time.
One last, long, dragging lick, and he was sliding up the bed, thrusting into her. ‘This is going to be too fast,’ he said into her ear. ‘I’m sorry, darling one.’
‘Not sorry,’ she whispered, holding him tight. ‘I want it like that, I want this, want you, dear God, you feel so good.’
Yes! screamed his tortured dick as it gave a little throb of affirmation. Thrust, thrust, giant, striving thrust, and he was coming. Coming as though he’d never stop. Never stop, never stop, never let me go. And as the orgasm finally eased, he put his mouth on hers and kissed her deeply and it was as though all his other senses went on high alert, flooding with the smell, sound, taste, feel of her, in his arms, under him, mouth to mouth. He loved her so much it made him ache. Never let me go. Never.
Long, long minutes, her fingers in his hair, her tongue in his mouth, lazy now, languid, her thighs going around him, as though she’d envelop him with her body if she could. Which reminded him that he was too damn big to be lying on top of her.
He rolled so that he was lying beside her. Which apparently didn’t sui
t Sarah, because she said, ‘No you don’t, buddy,’ and rolled right after him, ending up on top of him.
He laughed, put his arms around her, hugged her hard to his chest. ‘You’re bossy tonight, bluebell.’
‘Someone had to get the action happening. I was afraid for the continuing good health of your phallus if you’d kept that condom on for much longer. You know, gangrene caused by constricted blood supply, or something.’
He laughed. ‘My “phallus”? Is that the best you can do? How about dick or cock, since you want to swear a little. Or if that’s too naughty …’ choke ‘… manhood?’
‘I’m not saying manhood.’
‘So try “cock”. Say, “I like your cock, David”.’
She buried her face in his neck, and mumbled, ‘I like your cock, David. Oh that sounds so bad.’
‘It kind of works for me—and my cock,’ he said.
She shifted so she could look in his face. ‘Really?’ and then, as he nudged upwards. ‘Oh, I see.’ She giggled. ‘Well can you go and get rid of that condom? Because there are more in the drawer of that bedside table if we need them.’
There are more …
The words rankled. He didn’t like the double standard, but there it was. He himself was a fanatical condom user, but he didn’t want her to be. He didn’t want any other guy digging around in her bedside table looking for a condom. He didn’t want her to use a condom with any other guy.
Hmm, no, that wasn’t right. Any other guy had better use a condom or David would tear him apart! What he really didn’t want was for his precious Sarah to have sex with any other guy. She was too small, too fragile, too breakable, to entrust to some dickhead only interested in getting his rocks off. And he didn’t want anyone to have her the way … the way he would.
Jealousy.
God, what an abominable situation to be in. Abominable. Detestable, vile, repugnant.
‘Okay,’ he said, sliding her off him and getting to his feet. ‘One condom, coming off.’
***
David’s face was set when came into the room a few minutes later and slipped into bed beside her. He propped the pillows against the headboard so he could sit up, then urged Sarah up beside him, and she figured there’d be no condom action happening for a while.
He threaded his fingers through hers. ‘On the subject of condoms,’ he said, and stopped to clear his throat. Sarah knew that meant he was nervous; this was going to be interesting. ‘How do you feel about them?’
‘Like any smart, modern woman feels,’ she said. ‘They’re on or it’s not on.’
‘That’s good. For the rulebook.’
‘Why are you asking? Are you scared you caught something tonight?’
She expected David to laugh, but he didn’t. ‘It’s not that. Unless …’ He cleared his throat again. ‘Are you scared? That you caught something from me?’
‘Well, you do have quite the reputation, you know,’ she teased, nudging her shoulder into his arm. But he wasn’t laughing. He was looking to the side, at the bedside table. Ah, where the condoms were. ‘David, what’s going on? You’re starting to scare me. Are you about to tell me you have a disease that can be transmitted through latex?’
‘I don’t have a disease. It’s just … I was on my best behaviour tonight.’
‘Ooh, so I have some bad behaviour to look forward to? Yay!’
‘You are such a brat,’ he said, laughing at last, then scooped her onto his lap and kissed her hard on the mouth.
‘Talking about condoms …’ she said huskily, feel him go hard underneath her bottom. ‘Want to grab one right now?’
‘You’d better believe it,’ he said. ‘But in a couple of days … I won’t want to.’
She stiffened. ‘You agreed to three weeks and one day.’
‘Yes, which is longer than I’ve been with someone for the past nine years, Sarah, and I’m not … sure … I’ll always be on my best behaviour.’
She wriggled off his lap, turning accusing eyes on him. ‘Exclusivity. You agreed.’
‘I’m messing this up.’ He rubbed his hands over his face. ‘I mean best behaviour with you. This is a small place, and you’ll be close to me in it. And I … I’m going to want you. A lot. And … Okay, listen, the thing is, I might get carried away and slip up. As in forget myself. Forget the condom.’
The relief, as it started to make sense at last. ‘Oh, I see. You’ve slipped up before.’
‘No, I haven’t,’ he said, and reached impatiently for her again, resettling her onto his lap. ‘But if we’re going to be together for three weeks … it makes sense to …’ He raised her hand to his mouth, kissed it, rubbed her knuckles against his mouth.
‘Makes sense to what?’
He cleared his throat again. ‘What if I said I’d go to the doctor first thing in the morning and be tested for every disease known to man?’
‘Oh.’ It took her a moment to take it in. ‘Nobody’s ever offered to do that for me.’
‘So you’ve never …?’
‘Without a condom? No, never.’ And then she smiled. ‘But I’d like to. With you. Oh wow. Wow!’ Pause, as she thought it through further. ‘What about your peace of mind, though? I mean, of course I’ll get tested too, so not about that, but about pregnancy.’
He rubbed her hand across his mouth again. ‘Do I need to be worried about that from your perspective?’
‘No, I’m on the pill. Double indemnity, you know, because accidents can happen. But how are you to know I’m not lying about that? I suppose I could show you the packet, but—’
‘I don’t need to see the packet, Sarah.’
She smiled again. ‘I know I’m repeating myself, but oh, wow! It feels kind of momentous. Is that crazy? I guess it does sound crazy to you, since you’ve done it before. Then again, you’ve done everything before.’
He laughed, kissed her again. ‘Well, how about tell me one thing you’d like to do—as long as it does not involve cocaine—and we’ll see if I’ve done it. And if I haven’t, you’re on, okay?’
‘Well … There is one thing I’d like to do. Although it might sound dull to a man of your proclivities.’
‘Oh, my proclivities.’
‘Inclinations, tendencies, penchants, appetites.’
‘I love it when you talk thesaurus. So come on, I’m putty in your hands.’
‘I’d like to have sex outdoors.’
‘Hmm, yes, well I have done that. Far and wide, in fact, like an all-terrain vehicle.’
She tweaked the hair on his chest. ‘Oh, you!’ she said, and as he yelped, ran her tongue across his mouth.
‘Can I get the condom now?’ he asked huskily.
‘What about my request?’
‘Well hurry the hell up, would you?’
‘The thing is, I think I’m a pluviophile.’
‘A what?’
‘A pluviophile. I love rain. So what I’d really like to do is have sex outdoors in a rainstorm. Preferably with thunder and lightning as well. Have you done that?’
‘No, I can honestly say I haven’t done that,’ he said, and laughed. ‘But you do remember it’s winter all through the next three weeks, don’t you?’
‘Three weeks and one day—don’t think you’re going to rip me off. And so what? Winter is good storm weather.’
‘Yes but it’ll be cold.’
‘What about if I promise to keep you warm.’ She leaned close to his ear, sliding one of her hands down between them. ‘Maybe even hot.’ Put her hand around him. ‘Because remember,’ she whispered, ‘I like your cock, David.’
He shuddered, swore, groaned. ‘Okay, you’ve got your stooooorm, sweet baby Jesus that feels good. If you keep doing it, I’ll throw in a butt-naked rain dance.’
‘Oh, you are so on!’
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
By the end of week two of her new agreement with David, Sarah felt like she was starring in her
own private porno flick. It had been hot, sizzling, scorching! Even before their blood test results came back. And afterwards, when they no longer had to pause to think about reaching for a condom? Well, whew!
That first feel of him, just him, inside her, had been nothing short of scalding. And it just kept getting hotter. They’d had sex all over the flat. Against the wall, in the shower, in the hot tub (a contortionist fantasy come to life), on the couch, on the floor. They’d done it in the car. She’d been on her back, on her front, on her hands and knees, straddling him in a chair. She’d been underneath him and on top of him, as well as hovering over his mouth. She’d been tied up, tied down, and had returned the favour (even though David had laughingly complained she had to tie the scarves more viciously if she expected him not to ease his wrists out of the restraints and grab her). The guy was inventive. And he sure had stamina. Lots and lots of stamina.
Sarah jokingly asked him over breakfast one morning if he was getting any chemical assistance, and he laughed so hard he accidentally inhaled a piece of toast. Then he took her hand, pulled her into the bathroom, and methodically displayed every pill, toiletry, comb and pharmaceutical product he’d brought with him from his apartment, before stripping off and telling her to touch him—anywhere she wanted.
She went for his dimples—partly because she loved them, and partly because touching anywhere below the neck might lead to other things (despite their having indulged in some fairly comprehensive morning sex, which should have made any more exertion a physical impossibility); not that she would have minded ‘other things’, but she did, after all, have to get to work.
David smouldered at her through half-closed lids—a sure sign ‘other things’ were potentially coming up. ‘Look down,’ he said.
Sarah looked down. Yep, other things were already up. ‘If it’s not something chemical doing that, I think you may have some weird physiological condition.’
The Dating Game Page 25
