by Quinn, Taryn
Sage blinked and tilted her head, considering me in a way that made my skin prickle. “You can be sweet. I see now why you get so many women to go to bed with you. I have to admit, I didn’t understand the appeal before.”
There was no stopping my laughter this time. “Say exactly what you mean, why don’t you?”
“Did you sleep with Ursula last night?”
I hadn’t been expecting that one. “You knew about our date?”
“Of course. You know how big Crescent Cove is. And you’re a mover and a shaker.”
Lord, this woman. But for some reason, I was inexplicably glad I could tell her that I’d spent last night alone.
Not because I wanted to influence her or convince her that I was a decent guy, one like Seth.
Worthy of being a big-time love.
Impossible. Me? I was the kind of man a woman mentioned in passing in her diary.
Skilled lover. Made a mean balsamic salmon. Didn’t call after second date.
“No, I didn’t sleep with her. We canceled our date.” I kept my gaze trained on hers. “We’ve actually never slept together.”
“No way.”
“Yes way.”
“No way.”
I had to chuckle. “No, we have not. Trust me. I was there.”
“But she’s beautiful. Poised.” She sighed wistfully. “She has game.”
“Xbox?”
Now it was her turn to laugh. “Guess your knowledge of pop culture isn’t as complete as you believe. No, silly. I mean, she has skills. Game at attracting the opposite sex. Talent at keeping them interested.”
“Just in case you’ve forgotten, you’re sitting on a man’s lap right now.” I glanced down between us. “And I can verify he’s very interested. Painfully so.”
“You aren’t shy. You’ve never asked me out.”
“You haven’t asked me either.”
She sniffed. “That’s usually the man’s job.” She sighed again. “Especially if the woman is a big ol’ coward. Besides, we fight all the time.”
“So? Fighting is foreplay.”
“Is it?” She cocked her head again. “Is that what I’ve been doing wrong all this time?”
“Listen to me. You have done nothing wrong. You’re perfect just as you are. Any man who can’t see that is blind or stupid or both.”
“Is this your erection talking?” she asked dubiously.
“I do get more charitable at certain times, yes.” The corner of her lips lifted. “But no, that has nothing to do with this conversation. And as for being a coward, what about Moose? Don’t tell me you didn’t intend to invite him over for some barbecue brisket and sweet tea.”
“I stopped making that when we sold the bed-and-breakfast.”
“Damn shame. Best in the state. Hell, best north of Louisiana.”
And I could now verify she’d bewitched me in some unknown way, because here I was, praising her down-home cooking when I had the hard-on from hell.
Her cheeks flushed. “Aww, thank you. You really think I should make some for him?”
I nearly growled. “No. You couldn’t even find him on Facebook, Ally said.”
“No, that’s true, but—”
“Forget him.” In a second, I’d be pounding on my chest like a caveman. “If you want to try out your cooking skills, I’m game.”
“Are you asking me out?”
I tightened my hold on her. She was a glorious armful, and I liked her just that way. “More like I’m asking me in.”
“Oh.” She blinked. “Ohh.”
“I didn’t mean—”
“Okay. I’m game too. And if we’re being honest about our wants and all…” She took a deep breath. “I’d like to watch you make yourself come.”
Five
I was probably suffering from heat exhaustion. Was that possible from hot tubbing? If not, I was apt to be the first known case.
Why else would I ask my frenemy to jerk off for my viewing pleasure?
Not that he was going to do it. I could tell he was suffering from a serious case of shock, but he didn’t seem too inclined to abide by my request.
“We’re on vacay.” I tried to keep my voice light and not reel back from being turned down. I was so attuned to the possibility that it was hard for me not to just immediately shut down. “Vegas, remember? And you’re clearly uncomfortable…”
“Blue balls don’t kill, princess, I guarantee that.”
Princess. Had he given me a nickname? Should I balk at it, in light of women’s lib?
Fuck no. A sexy dude with an erection—for me—could call me anything he liked. Within reason.
“No, I know. But this trip is about new experiences, and I’ve never—I’ve never—”
“What?” he asked, so carefully that a part of me actually hurt.
How could he be this sweet right now and have hidden it so well from me for so long? Was I that oblivious? Or had it taken a moment like this, far away from our family and friends, to strip down to the essences of who we are?
Of course, we were physically stripped most of the way too. That probably helped.
And he was aroused. He’d already said it made him more charitable. So, what if we did something—anything at all—and we left this room and he went right back to being dickish Oliver? What if I went right back to being shrewish Sage?
Perhaps those were our assigned roles, and we couldn’t change them. It was like an adult reenactment of The Breakfast Club, except our version of detention on Saturday was griping through a lunch shift at the diner.
Then again, he did have a kinder side even away from Vegas. Like how he’d stood up for Ally at the diner with Greta. And even how he’d taken time away from his busy schedule to come to Vegas with me. Sure, I’d focused on the fact that he might be trying to slow my roll, but the truth was, he didn’t have to bother. That he’d taken a weekend out of his life to come here with me—business or no business—said a lot.
It said he had to care, if only because I was Ally’s bestie. So maybe he didn’t find it easy to access the more approachable side of himself. I would have to be more tolerant and give him a chance without preconceived notions.
Before my parents had sold the bed-and-breakfast out from under me, I’d never been so quick to judge. So eager to dismiss and berate. I’d once been hopeful enough to believe everyone was a decent person, even if sometimes the decent was slow in coming.
Today was the first chance in a while that I could try reclaiming my former self. I’d just aim for being a bolder version now, the type of woman who asked for what she wanted and believed she could get it.
That she deserved it.
This conversation was part of phase one. I just had to woman up and go for it.
“Okay, so I’ve jerked off a guy,” I said hesitantly. “I have done that.”
Strangely, he didn’t look pleased.
“But as far as giving a blowjob,” I paused as he made a sound I couldn’t identify, “no. I’ve never done that. Also, I’ve never, ahh, jerked a guy to completion either. And I’ve never watched one self-stimulate.”
“If a compound phrase was capable of killing a hard-on, that might be it. Or maybe if you started talking about musk again.”
I took a long, heady sniff near his neck. “It’s like an evergreen musk. So sexy. Mixed with that cedar thing you have going on, it’s like my closet back home. Oh, and my Hope chest.”
“You actually have one? Why am I not surprised?”
I ignored him. “My nana used to line it with these cedar sheets that smelled just like this.” I turned my head and licked his earlobe.
Oh my God, I just licked Oliver. I was taking this “go for what you want” credo seriously.
“Did you just lick me?” He sounded strangled.
“No?”
“If this was a pool, I’d dunk you for being a liar, and a horrible one at that. Since it isn’t one, I have no other recourse.”
Carefully, h
e wrapped his hands around my waist, lifted me up as if I were made of air, and set me down a safe distance away. Not very far, since the hot tub was only so big. And our legs were tangled, and oh Lord, I was breathing so hard that I gripped the side of the tub to try to get ahold of myself.
“You actually smell very good—” I began.
He held up a hand. “Let’s just table that discussion for now, shall we?”
“Okay.” At least he wasn’t suggesting we never speak again. “What should we talk about then?”
“If your request was serious, I’ll oblige you. Far be it from me to further delay a woman’s carnal education.”
The way he talked was such a turn-on. Truth be told, I got even hotter when he talked like that while acting like a dick. I just liked the softer side of him too. The one who said nice things and held me and didn’t make fun of me for having the same amount of experience as a high school senior.
Heck, freshman.
“It’s probably not fair.” I swept my loosened hair out of my face and fought the urge to fix my straggly ponytail. I was afraid to do anything that might make him change his mind. “I get to watch, and you get nothing.”
He chuckled darkly. “Oh, I’ll get something. I’ll get to come, though it’ll be far inadequate to other ways I’d much prefer to find release.” His near-black eyes glittered and made me quiver deep inside. “I’ll also get to watch you watching me.”
“And that’s arousing?”
“Very much.” His throat moved as he swallowed. “If we were more well-acquainted, I might ask you to remove your top to give me visual inspiration. Or better yet, I’d ask you to do the same as me. Except you’d be sitting on the edge.” He jerked his chin at the side of the hot tub. “So, I could see every movement of your fingers.”
I was blushing, I just knew it. My face felt like a freaking torch. But I was so excited I couldn’t think straight.
Was this really happening to me? This infuriating, sexy-as-hell man truly wanted me? He was even willing to go through my probably bizarre steps rather than, oh, just, you know…making out and having sex like normal people did every day. Especially people on vacation.
Especially when this was exactly what I’d told everyone I was looking for. No-strings-attached sex.
Yet Oliver was different. He was Ally’s brother-in-law, and we’d have to see each other absolutely everywhere. At holiday dinners, at the diner, walking down the flipping street…
But you think it won’t be weird if he chokes the chicken in front of you? It’s practically the same thing, except you don’t get the O.
Assuming I didn’t spontaneously combust the second he whipped out his cock. There were no guarantees there.
“Sage?”
See, that worried expression mixed in with the lust. That was what was messing me up. More and more evidence was piling up to make me think he truly did care about me underneath all the bluster.
Perhaps fighting really was foreplay, and we’d just had a super-long extended session of it.
“Sorry. I’m just having an out-of-body experience.” I inhaled deeply and reached for the hem of my cami, pulling it over my head before I chickened out entirely.
He just wanted to look. I had a nice rack. I even thought they were better than nice, when I wasn’t obsessing on Jim’s failure to launch.
And I was done with thinking about any other man than the one currently staring at me as if he wanted to eat me alive and then lick his fingers.
I dumped the cami on the floor and sat back, stretching my arms along the sides of the tub, gripping the smooth material to keep from bolting. That kind of focused attention was new for me.
Overwhelming. Addictive.
“You’re magnificent,” he murmured.
Another inward breath. I could feel my confidence swelling like a balloon with every moment he remained fixated on my breasts. He wasn’t even trying to hide his avarice. I was flushed all over, and a quick glance down proved that pinkness wasn’t just in my cheeks. Between the heat from the Jacuzzi and my embarrassment and arousal, my normally pale skin was a deep red. And my nipples were like tight cherries, dipping above and below the water every time I shifted.
I was shifting a lot. Squirming, actually.
“Thank you.” I gulped more air. “Your turn.”
Unlike me, he didn’t hesitate. He rose onto his knees, gripped the waistband of his boxers and eased the elastic over his…wow. I only caught a brief glimpse before he dropped below the bubbles to get them off.
He tossed them over the side to join my cami. I studied the pile of our clothing, only turning back to him when the rush of water dragged my attention back to my current situation. I was regretting now my limited experiences with porn. Maybe then I’d be more comfortable watching as he…
God, he was gripping his cock. His large, fully erect cock.
Sweet mother of Jesus. I was not equipped to handle this.
And in this case, I was not speaking metaphorically.
“Jim was not built like you.” I covered my mouth with my hand, figuring my accidental comment would make him growl again, but instead he only smiled, slow and wide like a Cheshire cat.
Of course. Because men always had to have the biggest and most powerful tools around. Or at least believe that they did.
I lowered my hand and decided to say something else I was thinking. On purpose this time.
“You’re so big,” I breathed.
He gave himself one long, slow stroke, then licked his lips. “Do you want to touch me?”
Fifteen minutes ago, I probably would’ve said no. Next level. Not ready to go there yet. Not with Oliver.
But now, I inched forward, my new resolve filling my chest.
“Just do whatever you’d like.”
His voice was low, guttural. Impossible to resist.
My gaze flickered up to meet his while I brushed my fingertips over the swollen, damp head.
He hissed as if I’d burned him. “More.”
I did it again, fascinated by how his muscles tightened and the veins bulged and shifted under his taut skin. His flesh was so much darker than mine. He was covered in lots of dense, dark ink. Swirls of intricate lines climbed his left arm creating a leopard with fascinating blue eyes. As his muscles rippled, so did the dangerous cat. More artwork reminded me of tribal swirls I’d seen on a few famous actors. It was much more interesting to see it so close, especially where I could touch. So different than my virgin skin.
Virgin everything.
His part-Italian heritage allowed him to tan, whereas I only crisped up like a lobster, and just sliding my paler hand against his length was oddly exciting. Every part of this was. We were so different, with so many angles that could rub and spark against each other.
I slipped my fingers farther down his shaft. Loosely, his fingers encircled the base, holding his erection up for my perusal. I wetted my lips as I wrapped my fingers around his width. Tried to anyway. They didn’t quite meet. Taking cues from his breathing, I shifted my hand, tentatively moving it up and down.
Testing him and myself.
I’d done this before, but no other man was quite like Oliver. Not only was he holy flipping hung, his stare was a physical thing. I could feel him watching me rather than watching the movement of my hand. Maybe he was making sure I wasn’t about to freak out and run screaming from the room.
Panicked little virgin.
Not anymore.
That confidence balloon inside me was still growing. The bubbling water was like a cushion, hiding some of the choppiness of my breathing. I was nervous, but not scared. He was waiting for me, leaving the ball—balls, as it were—entirely in my court.
I wanted to play.
Lowering my head, I licked the tip. Quickly. There was no lingering, not yet. But I was curious how he would taste, and that little burst of salt on my tongue spurred me on. As did his rumbling groan, trapped in his throat. God, what would it be like to hear him come
?
To make him come?
“Again,” he whispered, but he didn’t have to. My mouth was already watering for another longer taste.
Still clasping him in one hand, I used the other to hold back my sloppy ponytail as I went down once more. This time, I circled my tongue all the way around the domed head, lapping up the wetness there, returning to do so again when another pearly dropped immediately formed. I did it again and again, just focusing strictly on the tip, letting the power of this moment surge inside me until I had no choice but to try for more. To open my mouth wider and move my head down so that he rested on my tongue, and then to take more and more. Water teased the tight tips of my breasts as I took him deeper. He was swelling even further, the weight and pressure of him causing me to try to take too much, too fast.
I wanted everything.
“Easy.” His voice was a rumble, barely audible over the bubbles.
I inhaled through my nose, tears sparking briefly in my eyes as I stopped him just before my gag reflex engaged. The sound of the bubbling water and white noise buzzed in my ears, nearly blocking out everything.
His hand was on my hair now, stroking gently just as he’d done on the plane. The feeling instantly calmed me and allowed me to take more.
It was as if doing this one thing was now my purpose. Pushing his control and stretching mine. Giving him pleasure. Giving it to myself.
He undid my ponytail and my hair fell forward, sticking to my neck and chest, partially hiding my face. He gathered it up in his hand, drawing it back so carefully. Collecting each strand, pulling it back so nothing could impede his vision. He was watching every slide of my mouth, every flick of my tongue. Every alteration of my position so I didn’t take a mouthful of bubbles instead of him.
When I hollowed my cheeks and sucked, he groaned, and I tilted my head, squinting to watch the flex and bob of his Adam’s apple through the hazy sheen of tears. I’d pushed myself a little too hard but the slight burn in my throat was a badge of honor. I’d made him feel good, so good that his shoulders were strained, and his chest was heaving, his previously tender strokes on my hair becoming almost painful.
