by Brenna Lyons
He didn't ask what she wanted. David pulled her panties up slowly, covering the base of the plug, already hidden by her lush backside. The dress molded to the curves of her body, and he traced them blatantly, on the excuse of smoothing any telltale wrinkles from her clothes.
Robin came up on tiptoe and wrapped her arms around his shoulders, reinforcing the image of the odd couple he'd noted earlier. She was too good for him, but she was all he wanted, and he'd find a way to make her his.
The doorbell sent him two steps away from her. He recovered and shot her a sly smile. “Put your shoes on. I'll see you later to do something about that plug.”
She blushed deeply. “It's a date.”
His heart stuttered. How strange that such a simple word could affect him so deeply.
———
The dancer on stage was hunky enough, but Robin found herself comparing him to David, just as he'd teased she would. How could she help herself with the memory of sex with him fresh in her mind and the largest plug in her ass?
The latter was admittedly odd. The sensation couldn't properly be called painful, past a few twinges when she'd plopped down somewhere without thinking about the consequences of her actions. Still, the sensation of stretching persisted, a light—almost pleasant—burning when she leaned or turned certain ways.
It had taken her more than an hour to reject the idea that someone would know the plug was inserted. If her face had burned any hotter and longer, Andrea would have stopped teasing her that she was embarrassed about going to a strip club and started seriously pursuing the idea that Robin was coming down with a fever.
Sometime around the second hour, she'd had to admit that the plug had a wicked sort of appeal to it, making her aware of herself sexually. Acutely aware of David and all the things he intends to teach me. It was a delicious little secret that no one knew she was keeping. Robin had even indulged in thoughts of going into the ladies' room to stroke off and wondered if she could keep it together in a crowd, wearing a pair of vibrating panties to take the edge off.
Her face burning at the audacity of that thought, she took a sip of her Long Island Iced Tea and focused on the dancer again.
“Longbow” was down to his rip-away pants and G-string, which meant his chest was on display. He had defined muscles, of course, but he was lean…more of an office guy than a working man, like David was.
Her mouthful of Long Island nearly came up on a choke at the realization that she didn't like office types. She was making comparisons that put Zach in a bad light again.
And disliking the clean-cut office type? When had that happened? Yes, she enjoyed David's callused hands and heavy muscle more, but when had she stopped finding lightweights appealing?
Robin looked around the room, focusing on bare-chested waiters and dancers of all types. She swallowed down a lump at the truth. It wasn't that she didn't find lightweights appealing. It was that she didn't find any of them appealing.
Any of them but David. Oh, this had the potential to go badly.
Or maybe to go well. It was too early to know for sure.
After all, he'd spent the night more than once now. He'd concocted the story to give them the whole morning together the first time. When had Zach done something like that?
Never. Her heart raced at the idea that there might be something more developing out of this affair.
Andrea leaned close to her, blasting her question through the loud thumping music and into Robin's ear with ringing success. “I thought he'd be your type.”
Her face heated. “Not really. I don't do repeats, I guess.”
Her friend's eyes lit with glee. “So, you're ready to start dating again. I told Les—”
“No. I don't think so.”
Andrea turned on her chair and cocked her head to one side as if considering something. “Maybe a little bedroom action?”
“Maybe. With the right guy. But there aren't many of those around.” Robin put up a hand to stop the flow of suggestions. “I'll find him my own way.”
Barbara chuckled darkly, leaning close on the other side. “If sex is all you want, you should see if David is game.”
“David?” The question was out before she could stop herself. What in the world made Barbara consider David as a possibility? Did they all know? Or at least suspect what was going on between them?
When they'd shown up to pick up Robin, she and David had made a show of him leaving in his truck with the pizza box. There had been no comments or raised eyebrows about it, though it would have been painfully obvious that he'd probably been there while she'd showered and changed into the tight little sheath she'd donned for the evening.
Had her mooning given them away? Maybe.
Andrea pointed to Heather, currently dirty dancing with one of the off-duty waiters. “Word is Heather got down with David before she and Ross got together. That man is ho-ot, baby.”
Yes, he was. Her heart sank. No matter what she was feeling, David was the consummate ladies' man. There was no chance he wanted more than what he'd promised her.
Realizing they were still waiting for an answer, Robin pasted on a smile that felt halfway realistic. “I'll think about it.”
Far too much, I'm sure.
———
David's truck wasn't outside her house. Robin calmed herself with the fact that he would either have left it at his place and walked back…or would be coming back later tonight, as he had the first time. Her entire body humming in anticipation, she hoped it was the former.
Inside the house, she pulled off her coat and dropped it on the sofa. She stopped for a moment, closed her eyes, and drank in the feeling of being home. Without a sound or discarded jacket or any other indicator, she knew David was in the house.
The condo hadn't felt like home since Zach died. It had been nothing more than the place she lived, the place to wash clothes and sleep and shower and read books. She hadn't even cooked a proper meal since Zach's death. She'd eaten what was easy, though she liked to cook.
Her brow furrowed at the truth. She did like to cook, so why had she stopped cooking when she'd lost Zach? What did that have to do with him?
I should cook. I should cook for David.@ Maybe she'd start making meals that she could pop into the oven or roast in the Crock-Pot, so they could have real food in the evenings.
Resigned that she would, she kicked off her heels and headed for the bedroom.
———
David held his breath, letting it out in a steady stream when Robin started moving again. He wondered why she'd taken so long in the living room. There'd been no discussion indicating that one of the other ladies had come inside with her.
Forget it. She's coming in now.
Her footfalls approached the door…barefoot, so she'd removed her heels in the other room, which was fine with him. There was something sexy about a barefoot Robin that couldn't compare to one of the foam domes—as Heather would call the girls he'd dated when he was younger—in spiked heels.
The irony that Heather had been one of those foam domes never seemed to make it through to her. But, that was Heather.
She pushed the door open and stepped through, her mouth opening in an “oh” of surprise.
David smiled. He'd gone out of his way to set up the candles and incense, the soft music playing at the edges of awareness, and himself on a down comforter…naked as the statue version of his name. But a hell of a lot more of an erection. It was good to see she liked it.
“Are you sure about this?” he asked. “If you're not, we can put this atmosphere to other uses.” He certainly wouldn't complain about a repeat of earlier.
“No. I'm sure. I just didn't expect—”
He patted the mattress next to him. “Expect?” He thought he knew where she was going with it, but it was better to know for sure, he supposed.
Robin crossed the room and sank to the mattress beside him. “Isn't this a little incongruous?”
“If you think so, maybe we shoul
d leave this for another night.”
“No!”
He startled at her reaction…then smiled, leaning toward her to drink in her musk and spice perfume. “Why?”
“I promised—”
“Forget promises.” He didn't want her to feel obligated to do this. If she didn't want to experiment with it…or wanted to do it slowly, they would. “If you're not ready—”
“I am.”
David pulled back, searching her face for signs that she was unsure or scared. Robin didn't appear to be.
“I want to know.” She didn't say what she wanted to know, but her blue eyes were earnest.
He tilted his head, enticing her into a slow, deep kiss. Hands trailed over heated flesh, under her dress, to the damp lace covering her slit.
Not yet. David moved on, pushing her dress up. He peeled the breast band out and eased it up, baring her to the neck.
Her breasts were just too enticing, and he lowered his head, suckling at the tips. Robin dragged her dress off and tossed it away, watching him with slumberous eyes.
David took his time, bringing her nipples to hard little points that begged for more. Something told him he had to reverse whatever ideas she had about anal sex, and making this a feast of sensation was his favorite game plan for it.
Getting the three plugs in had been delightful. From her reactions, he'd say it had been more than enjoyable for Robin, as well as for him. Memories of her moans as he'd played the largest in and out—her pressed to the wall, still damp from the shower and his stroking there—were almost more than he could bear. He hadn't questioned that she wanted this, even then.
He worked his way down her body, tasting her flushed skin. Just when he would have slipped his tongue past her lace panties, she spoke.
“I want to feel it.”
“My cock?” He'd planned on it. He'd planned on having her put the lubricant on him, working him up for penetration.
“Inside. Like we did earlier, with the small plug.”
David's jaw locked down at the image, and he panted back the urge to rip the damned panties off her. Instead, he eased them down until they ringed her thighs. The large plug, in addition to the pressure from the panties, would make her even tighter.
He was right. The fit was so tight, it bordered on painful. Still, he eased in, an inch at a time, shivering in restraint at her pleas for more. At the pinnacle, she started to climax in waves of milking muscle. It was all David could do not to follow her over.
Holding to him, Robin wriggled against his impaling length. “Oh…yes. Oh, yes. More.”
He consoled himself with the idea that giving her what she wanted and putting her at ease with the plugs would get them to what he wanted sooner. That in mind, David started to move.
“No! You'll come,” she gasped out.
David went still inside her, his head spinning. What did she want?
“You have somewhere else to be.”
His breathing strangled, he eased out. “Be sure. I can finish this way.”
Robin shook her head. “No. I want to know.”
David, at the end of his patience, reached for the lube. “Roll to your side.”
She stared at him, questioning him silently.
“It will be easier for your first time.”
First time? What am I saying? This is where she shies away.
Robin didn't question him. She turned to her side and pulled the pillows down to support her head.
The panties still ringing her thighs enticed him, and David hurried to lube up. At his first move toward her, Robin curled to open herself to him, and David reminded himself to go slowly for her.
His hands unsteady, he grasped the plug and eased it back. Robin gasped as the wide shaft popped through the ring of muscle, but she didn't retreat.
Encouraged, David used the plug to stroke in and out. When there was no sign of distress, he set the plug aside.
David wanted to ask her if she was ready, but he'd learned the hard way that could make a woman tense up. Instead, he slid his lower arm through the hollow at her waist and started circling her clit.
Robin shimmied toward him, and David positioned the head for the first push into her ass. He didn't instruct her. He didn't have to; she pushed back, meeting his forward slide.
“Oh, damn!” David couldn't stop himself from venting the exclamation.
“Okay?” she asked.
Okay? Was she kidding? He'd only gotten the crown in, and it was so good, he was trying not to come. “Yes. Just needed a minute,” he grumbled.
David eased in farther, reveling in the compression of his shaft in her tight little hole. He eased back and in farther, trying to recapture the pace he'd used earlier.
It was a lost cause. A more primal cadence echoed in his ears, probably related to his thundering heartbeat.
Robin thrust her hips back, forcing him to the root.
Oh. My. God. A roar of disbelief scorched up his throat and into the room, and his cum jetted out, slicking her for his manic thrusts.
His breathing coming in fits and starts, stars twinkling behind his eyelids, David buried his face in her hair. “Oh, God. I didn't hurt you, did I?” What the hell had come over him? He still wasn't sure.
“Are you kidding?” There was a teasing note in that.
Her hips danced against his, setting off aftershocks that stole his breath and propelled him toward sleep. As he dropped off to sleep, his waning cock sliding from her body, he resolved to make her feel this good tomorrow.
Somehow. I'll think about it tomorrow.
Chapter Six
December 6, 2009
David mounted the trailer steps and shouldered inside, his smile going brittle at the sight of Robin's empty desk. I'm an ass. I'm pathetic. I'm screwed. Why was he so disappointed that Robin wasn't here, waiting for him to invite her to lunch with him?
“Problem, David?” his mother asked from the main desk.
“Robin's already gone to lunch?” Since she rarely left her desk midday, it was a safe bet.
“We all switched lunches today. Barbara has an appointment, but she doesn't have to leave until one. I promised to help your father with something, starting at twelve.” She raised her shoulder in a delicate shrug.
His mind filled in the rest. That meant Robin ate early to allow Barbara to do her daily bank and courier runs, while Ma was still here to cover the phones; after that, his mother would leave with Pop, and Barbara would go directly to lunch after the errands and before her appointment, leaving Robin on the phones for the rest of the day.
“Right. Okay. I guess I'll head to lunch then.” But it would be a much less lively lunch than joking with Robin over a couple of burgers or tacos. He turned toward the door.
“Oh…David!”
He stopped, wincing at her tone. He'd heard it a hundred times before he was twenty, usually right before one of those tedious “for your own good” discussions. “Yeah, Ma?”
“Come over and sit down.”
David did an about-face, ambled across the office, and plopped into the chair Barbara and Heather used on alternating days.
“I've been talking to your father about the Christmas party.”
That was hardly news. It was time to tell everyone what his or her job was. He racked his brain to find any possible lecture in that. He'd never faulted on his assigned task.
“How do you feel about hosting this year?”
“Me?” Where had this come from? Usually, he was in charge of picking and transporting the tree, hanging lights for the hosts…anything but hosting personally. On top of that, everyone had a hand in bringing food for the potluck, on the theme the hosts set, and cleanup of the house used, after the hurricane of kids came through.
“You have a place big enough now. You don't mind, do you?”
“No. It's just…” How could he voice his concerns without it looking like he wanted to back out?
She waved as if shooing a fly. “I know. It's usually
a couple hosting.”
The hair on the back of David's neck stood on end, warning that the trap was being set somehow. “Yeah. It usually is.”
“It would be nice if you had a date there. Not one of your usual kind. You know… A nice, steady, serious girl.”
“Yeah. That.” Ever since Zach died, his parents had been hinting at this. Find a “decent” girl and provide some grandchildren.
I've done the former, and I might end up doing the latter, but not in the way she has in mind, at this rate. He would, though, given half a chance.
“David?”
He snapped his head up and tried to work out when he'd averted his eyes. “I'm not really dating anyone right now, Ma.”
“Really?”
“You don't have to sound so surprised.” Her reaction stung. He wasn't that much of a playboy, after all.
“So, does this mean your tastes are changing?” She leaned across the desk, her dark eyes twinkling in the quest for good news to share with Pop.
More like I finally have a taste of what I want. “Something like that.”
She stared at him, hinting silently at the “delicious little details.”
No way. Not a chance.
“If you don't feel up to hosting—”
“I do.” It was a lot of work, but it had its perks, including someone else doing the cleanup.
“If you're sure.” There was a note of uncertainty in that.
David nodded, an idea taking shape. “What would you think of Robin cohosting?” He rushed on without waiting for an answer. “It would get her back into the holiday season and give her a project to work on. And, she could keep me in line.”
Ma always believed a man needed a good woman to keep him in line. That was why couples usually hosted the family parties.
Not to mention, it will give us a lot of time together that no one would question. We could have lunch every day, talk on the phone like normal couples, share those delicious dinners she's cooking again… This could work.
His mother seemed to consider his argument carefully. Robin had shied from projects after her last…her wedding had been scrapped. How many times had Ma said Robin needed a hobby or outside interests in her life?
