by Mia Downing
“I won’t be taking my eyes off you in my shirt, so don’t fuss.”
She blushed prettily as she set two plates and silverware on the table and then opened the fridge to get the lasagna out. She returned with a covered container. “I have to be honest—it’s strange having you sitting here, at my kitchen table. Eating a meal with me.” She dished out a serving on each plate, then finally met his gaze. “I’m sorry. I guess I’m not very good at this discovery stage.”
“What did you expect we’d do after we had sex?”
She blushed deeper. “I don’t know. I figured you’d go home.” She looked startled at being so frank, and the red flush crept up her forehead into her hairline. “I’m sorry. That didn’t come out quite right.”
“No worries.” Adam smiled, hoping to reassure her. “So let’s get to know each other better. I’ll ask you a question, then you answer, and return fire with your own question. Sound good?”
“Yes.” She put a plate into the microwave, punched the appropriate numbers, and turned to lean against the counter. “Shall I go first?”
“Be my guest.”
“Umm. Favorite color? Mine’s blue.” She pointed to a stripe on his shirt she wore, right above her nipple. “This color, sort of a cornflower blue.”
“Women and their clarifications of color. You do realize, to most men, that’s just blue?” He pointed to the blue floral print on the tile backsplash behind the stove. “That’s blue, too.”
“That’s royal blue. Big difference.” She crossed her arms over her chest and her legs at the knee and gave him the spunky grin he loved. “Your favorite color?”
“Favorite color.” He ran a hand through his hair, faking stress. “I don’t know if I have a favorite. There are different colors I like for different things. I like a red sports car, blue shirts, and black lingerie on a woman.”
“That’s too bad.” Megan removed one plate, popped in the other, and reset the time. Then she smiled at him, one that hinted of naughty thoughts. “I have a beautiful red thong and lacy bra set. I guess I’ll have to save that for someone else.”
Jealousy flared, surprising him. “You’d look beautiful in red.”
She blushed again and a moment later removed his plate from the microwave.
Adam rubbed his hands together appreciatively as she set the steaming hot plate in front of him. The mixed scents of tomato sauce, cheese, and spices had his mouth watering.
She brushed a lock of hair from her face, then rested her hand on her hip. “You can dig in. Would you like wine? I only have one bottle of white—”
“Actually, I’d love milk, if you have it.”
“Milk?” For the second time, she stared at him as if he had two heads.
“Yes, milk. The white stuff that comes from a cow?” He took a bite of the lasagna and burnt his tongue. “Ow, hot. Oh, but so damned worth it.”
Megan poured him a glass of milk and set it before him. “I guess I didn’t expect you to want milk.”
“Even law firm partners drink milk. It’s good for the bones.” He took a sip, savoring the creamy coolness. “Ah. So my question. Any siblings?”
“A brother, Justin. He’s two years older than me. He’s a physical therapist. You?”
“A sister, Celia. She’s out in California. She’s a doctor.”
“Wow. A doctor and a lawyer. Your mom must be very proud.”
“She was.”
“Was?”
“She’s in a nursing home. A car accident took my dad and left her in a coma.”
“I’m so sorry.”
Adam gave the briefest hint of a smile. Even after two years, it still hurt to discuss. He’d lost way too much—his father, his wife. In his eyes, his mother had died that day as well.
One expected to lose their parents one day to old age, but he never dreamed he wouldn’t do anything but grow old with Melissa. The day she died had changed him, more than he wanted to admit. But now he was ready to accept that he couldn’t change the past and move on.
To change the mood, he offered a new question. “Would you be interested in having sex outside?”
“In January?” She blushed prettily again as she sat with her own plate.
“I was thinking in the spring, when it’s warmer.”
She gave him a funny look. “I’m sure you’ll have moved on by then. But sure, what the hell.” Then she glanced at her plate and toyed with her fork. “I don’t want a commitment, so don’t feel that you have to…I don’t know, whatever men do when women want a commitment. You don’t have to worry.” She looked up, her eyes earnest. “I want that clear.”
“Crystal clear.”
She shrugged, and he wondered what had her at odds at the moment. Now that he had her, he didn’t plan to let her go. He knew he had a bit of a reputation as a player, but that was something he’d fostered to keep his secretary, Peg, and the other women at bay, especially after losing his wife. No one wanted to be the boss’s fling, and he couldn’t deal with the sympathetic looks any longer. “So we have uncommitted sex, outside, in the spring. Sound good?”
She nodded, pushing her food around on her plate. He loved watching her face, and how her emotions changed with lightning quickness across her smooth features. “I guess it’s my turn. What do guys like?”
“I’m not most guys.”
She licked her bottom lip and met his gaze. “Then what do you like?”
He could almost see the wheels turning, and he realized this seduction had been planned, and she had an idea of what she wanted to do, what she wanted from him, but didn’t quite know how to voice it. He decided to test the waters, to see exactly what would float.
“Guys like lots of things. Outside sex, oral sex, bondage…” The thought of her bound and begging for his touch, or his tongue, intrigued his cock. It stirred in the sweatpants, hardening. Down, boy.
But then he wondered if that last bit was too much, so he chanced a glance. Her brow furrowed with thought.
“I’m not sure about that. Would I get to tie you up?” She studied him through fringed lashes, a flush of lust forming across her cheeks. “I might like that.”
Instant hard-on. He wiped his mouth on his napkin and leaned back in his chair, using every ounce of strength to keep from leaping the table and taking her on the floor. He had to be patient. This was his chance to push her a bit further, find out a bit more than she’d probably want to share. “You can do whatever you like to me, if you answer my next question.”
“Okay.”
“Who hurt you?”
Megan knew the question was coming but hadn’t expected it in the middle of their sexy banter. Her fork clattered to her plate, and she wiped her mouth with her napkin. What would he think when he knew the truth? She whispered, “My brother’s best friend, Mark. First, when I was sixteen, then again, a year later.”
“Jesus. Tell me he paid.”
She looked up but couldn’t meet his eyes. The steel in his voice on her behalf made her a bit braver. “Oh, he paid—I testified and sent him to jail. Unfortunately, counseling doesn’t always make one whole.”
The words rushed out, and she found comfort instead of embarrassment in the way he listened patiently. “I tried to have sex a few times in college, but the fear always returned. I either made them stop, or I suffered through it.”
She laughed bitterly. Her early sexual escapades were fumbled attempts. But no longer. Control and sexual fulfillment were hers. “So, I experimented on my own with a vibrator and even experimented to see if it would be better with the same sex.”
“With a woman?”
She laughed despite the tension and met his eyes. His stunned expression was priceless—as if he’d been told Santa was real and would leave naughty things in his stocking if he only asked. “That’s what same sex usually means, yes.”
“I don’t mind that you experimented—guys find that very, very hot. But you caught me by surprise. Didn’t you enjoy it?”
&n
bsp; “No, not entirely. Something was missing.” She had wanted a man’s hard cock from the get-go, and a woman just didn’t have the equipment to make her feel complete. Until Adam, her vibrator had had to do. She cleared her throat. “I’m not ashamed of loving a good orgasm. But what I wanted was a man. One that would be brave enough to get through the awkward beginning to teach me wicked things.”
A slow smile spread across his face. “I like the sound of wicked things. What do you have in mind?”
Before she could lose her nerve, she quickly said, “I’d like to try some anal sex some time. I’ve tried playing there with a vibrator.”
“By playing, you mean…” He looked like she had just handed him a winning lottery ticket. His breathing increased two-fold, and his hard swallow had nothing to do with the meal.
“I’ve inserted it—there—and found my orgasm was even bigger with one in each area.” She looked away, a blush heating her cheeks. “I know it sounds absurd—the raped girl wanting anal sex. But I wasn’t sure… I thought maybe, if I couldn’t get it the normal way, my mind would allow someone in my…” she swallowed, “ass. There. I said it. And I knew I had to prepare that opening.”
He took her hand in his. “You’re not the raped girl. You’re Megan, and you’re beautiful. And incredibly brave.”
She almost believed the sincerity in his voice. Almost. She smiled and touched his cheek, the five o’clock shadow rough under her fingers. “So, if anal sex is good with a vibrator…” She took a quick breath. “Would it be even sweeter with you inside?”
“Oh, Jesus.” He groaned and pushed his plate aside. “Come here.”
Adam couldn’t believe what he was hearing, couldn’t believe his luck. They said the shy ones always ended up being the hottest. She rose and he grabbed her around the waist. He pushed his plate aside to set her on the table, the place mat still warm. He smoothed his hands along her thighs, inhaling her sweet scent as she massaged his shoulders. He planted a kiss on the creamy skin of her inner thigh and rubbed his jaw along its length, his breath a scant distance from her nicely trimmed mound.
Though she offered up boldness, he sensed fragility. It was there in her touch, the way her fingers brushed at his nape, wanting to guide him, to press against him, but her tension held her back, ready to flee. Fragility had been there in her voice, giving him a glimpse of her horrid past before stoking his fire with something so hot, no red blooded male could say no to another tryst.
He wanted more though. He licked a path up her opposite thigh, his hands meeting behind her back to caress her ass. If he wanted her, wanted to truly own a piece of her, he had to go slow, had to offer her more than a hot fuck and an orgasm. But how, what? He was good at thinking on his feet, but her womanly scent and the softness of her skin under his palms didn’t help him to formulate a plan for seduction.
He nuzzled under her shirt—his shirt—and let his tongue warm a path across her stomach, ignoring the patch of curls he wanted so much to dive into. “A woman can’t talk about anal sex like that at dinner and not offer a man dessert. Do you have any suggestions?”
“There’s fresh fruit in the fridge.”
“That could be refreshing.” He nipped her belly and rose to investigate. Sure enough, there was a plastic container with watermelon and pineapple spears. He grinned, anticipating the fun he could have.
“Do you want a plate?” she offered, sliding forward to get one.
His grin widened as he realized she had no clue what he was going to do to her. “Nope.” He took out a piece of pineapple and took a bite. Sweet, succulent juices trickled down his throat, though they weren’t anywhere as sweet as the juices he wanted to taste. “You want some?”
She grabbed a napkin and wiped the juice his chin and jaw. “Not now.”
“You sure?” He pulled her closer and dabbed the spear to her lips and then kissed the juice away, his tongue lapping a path down her chin, along her jaw. His teeth nipped at her lower lip. Satisfied, he pulled back to watch her reaction.
He loved the way innocence tore away as she realized his full intent. Her eyes widened and her mouth opened slightly. She bit her lip, and the hand on his chest trembled. He took another bite of the fruit and this time she leaned in, tentatively, and licked his mouth, his chin. Her gaze returned to his, as if seeking approval.
“Not bad?” he whispered.
“Better than I expected.”
He chuckled. “Always hard to please, you are.” He unbuttoned her shirt and smoothed the cloth away from her perfect breasts—not too small or large. “Maybe this will meet your approval.” He dabbed the spear on her rosy tipped nipple and then devoured the juices eagerly, his tongue lapping the hard peak. Then he sucked, enjoying her soft moan, his other hand sliding to her other breast to flick that nipple with his thumb. He broke the suction and reached for another slice of pineapple. “Lean back.”
She didn’t look too sure as she did as he asked, bracing her palms behind her. He vowed to make her very sure as he nudged her thighs wider and drew a line of juice from her navel to top of the curls between her legs. His tongue then followed the path in a quick swoop, enjoying the salty tang of her skin mixed with the sweetness.
He sat in the chair and drew another path from her knee along her inner thigh, following right behind with his tongue, ending at the juncture. She jumped a bit, and he blew a breath across her clit. He glanced up and met her gaze as he slid the spear to her clit, then downward, pushing just the tip into her pussy.
She gasped, and he chuckled. “See, getting your two servings of fruit a day doesn’t need to be torturous.”
“I don’t know if I’d agree.” She licked her bottom lip, her eyes darting from his to the pineapple in his hand. “You going to let that go to waste?”
“There’s my demanding girl,” he said and dipped his head. He slid the spear to her clit and inserted two fingers into her soaking pussy. Her muscles stretched around his fingers, the walls already pulsing. His cock jerked, jealous, eager to replace his hand. A quiver ran through her body, and he removed his fingers, not wanting her to come too quickly.
“No,” she whispered. He glanced up and she looked stricken, her lovely face awash with lust. “Please?”
He laughed. “Easy, sweetheart. We have all night.” He steered the spear of pineapple back to her stomach, ringing her navel, then tapping each hipbone. His mouth slid down to her belly to clean up the mess he’d made, his lips enjoying her soft skin, the tremble of her muscles beneath his hot breath. “Those suits you wear hide such perfection,” he murmured.
Perfection? Megan tensed under his lavish attention to her navel, his words almost like he’d tossed ice water in her face. She thought of perfect, lush Barbara at the office, with her rounded hips and large bosom, and how Adam had held her close under the mistletoe, his hand so dangerously close to her heaving breast. “Yes, my skinny thighs and boy hips turn so many men on.”
He looked up sharply, his hand clenched in the folds of her shirt. His nostrils flared slightly. “Who said that to you?”
“What do you mean, who—I—” Mark. The memory of his words as he had taunted her, abused her, came back in a flush of embarrassed heat. She embraced his head to her stomach, the stubble on his cheek abrasive yet tantalizing.
“He’s a fucking idiot.” Adam slid his hands around back and dipped his head to nip at her inner thigh. “You’re thinner than some women, yes. But boyish? I don’t think so.”
She smiled sadly. “You’re just saying that to get laid.”
He stood abruptly and grabbed her chin on the way up, daring her to look away. “You think that? Because I’ll leave now, if that’s what it takes to make you believe. I refuse to flatter a woman just to get between her legs. I don’t have time for that. If I’m with a woman, it’s because she drives me insane. You drive me insane.”
She didn’t know what to say, since it wasn’t a reaction she expected. His gaze was hard, intense, and suddenly she was very a
fraid he’d leave her, even if it was a really noble gesture. She grabbed his wrist. “Stay. Make me believe.”
He kissed her, hard, his hand sliding from her chin to cup her cheek. Doubt fled and a desperate flare of desire stepped up to the plate. She knew what it felt like to drown in lust—she couldn’t breathe, couldn’t control the need to have him inside of her.
Her fingers laced around his nape, and she leaned back, tugging him down on top of her, on the table. Her legs wound around his waist, pulling his lean hips down to hers. Before he could protest, she reached between them, pulled down his sweats and adjusted his cock. She arched her back and welcomed him with a thrust of her hips.
Adam sucked in a breath as he sank into her flesh and braced a palm against the table to ease his weigh off of her. She took him by surprise—one moment he was trying to make a point, to show her that she was indeed beautiful, the next he was on top of her, deep inside the tightest pussy, the sweetest girl. He broke the kiss and breathed, “condom,” in her ear.
As bad as he hated them, he had to bring it up. He knew he was clean—he hadn’t had sex in two years except for their earlier fun. He didn’t know if this was quite the time to point that out, since her fingernails were biting into his ass cheek.
“I’m on the pill.” But then she stilled. “Maybe we should, anyway.”
“Do you have more?”
“Yes, in my purse.”
He withdrew, stood, and went back to the foyer. He found another foil packet in her purse and then rolled it on. When he returned, she was still waiting on the table, her fingers stimulating her clit, keeping her need high.
“You are so hot. Beautiful,” Adam said as he bent over Megan again, sliding in deep. Her hands cupped his ass, urging him deeper, and he pushed aside a twinge of sadness—oh, the demons she was trying to erase, chase away. Was she aware of the pain she radiated instead of hid when she bit at his neck, sucked at his collarbone? He doubted it. “Gentle. You can’t leave marks.”
