“I can see why you like it so much,” he said. “What else do you like?” His voice was throaty and low, his brown eyes nearly black. She tried to even out her focus, even though her head felt muddled and her heart pounded in her ears. She knew she liked Porter, that’s for damn sure. She itched to get him out of his clothes, to feel his warm naked skin again beneath her fingers.
Porter shut off the vibrating egg and laid it aside. “Show me something else,” he commanded, and all she wanted to do was obey.
She reached over into the bag and pulled out a small, tasteful canister of vanilla-flavored body powder. Liv shook it a little as she handed it to Porter, who read the label intently.
“What’s this for?” he asked.
“It makes me—all of me—taste good.” Liv blushed again. “I’ve never used it, though, so I don’t know... I’ve only heard...”
“You’ve only heard,” Porter repeated.
Liv’s heart beat hard in her chest. “Porter. There’s something I should tell you....” She didn’t know why she was doing this. But she felt he should know. She wasn’t a sex goddess. She hardly knew anything! “I’m not... I mean... I have had sex, but...” It wasn’t coming out right at all.
“You’re saying just because you sell sex toys, it doesn’t mean you have sex all the time?”
Liv blushed bright red and nodded. “I haven’t had sex much,” she murmured, almost at a whisper, feeling too embarrassed to look him in the eye.
Porter put his finger under her chin and lifted it. “I don’t care about that,” he said, brown eyes intent on hers. “In fact, I pretty much guessed that already.”
“You did?” Liv felt alarmed. Had she kissed badly? Was it that obvious?
“Liv, you’re a complicated woman. And I like complicated.” He kissed her gently then, and she kissed him back. He pulled away, eyes intent on hers. “You don’t have anything to be embarrassed about. You know that, right? You are an amazingly gorgeous woman.”
She smiled at him, feeling relieved.
“And you know that with every partner, it’s like starting over, right? Everyone is different,” he murmured, kissing down her neck. Her breath quickened. “We’re all novices when it comes to having sex with someone new for the first time. We all have a learning curve.” He pulled away and held up the flavored powder. “So, this is supposed to make you taste good?”
Liv nodded.
“I bet you taste good all on your own,” he whispered as he stood, pulling her in close. He was kissing her again, and seconds later, tugging up her dress. Somehow, it ended up on his floor, and she wore her best black lace bra and slinky panties. Liv tugged on his shirt in return, and it came off. His chest was muscled, his abs flat and ripped. He was as gorgeous as she thought, and wished she could spend hours just looking at him, tracing the muscles. He kissed her again, pushing her back on the sofa, and then slid downward, tugging expertly on her underwear as he went. Suddenly, she was naked from the waist down, and he was there, at her center, flicking his tongue.
“Mmm.” He raised his head from between her legs. “You taste so good, you don’t need any powder,” he said as he licked with gentle, experienced strokes. The heat built inside her as she arched her back, moaning, wanting more. He followed her, lick for lick, stroke for stroke, seeming to read her mind as he lapped greedily. Minutes later, she found herself tumbling over the edge, seized by a climax so strong, she could feel a shout ripped from her throat. Instantly, her body turned to jelly as he moved away from her, licking his lips.
She groaned and her eyes fluttered closed.
“Oh, we’re not done yet,” he said, and reached over to her suitcase, grabbing an extra-large condom. Liv propped herself up, watching him, as he slipped out of his pants. She’d been right: he had nothing to fear from oversize vibrators. She reached out and touched his thick member, and he shivered, even as he worked to put the extra-large condom on. Once finished, he kissed her, his thickness rubbing against her belly. Instantly, her body came alive again, her nipples straining against her bra. He slipped down her bra straps, freeing her breasts, cupping her reverently.
“I can’t wait any longer,” he growled in her ear, and they tumbled back down on his couch and he plunged deep inside her, taking her breath away as he filled her. She couldn’t think about anything else but how well they fit together, how she was going to come again, even harder this time. She matched his rhythm as he worked deep inside her, relentless in his demand. Before long, she came again, hard and fast, squeezing him fiercely in hot spasms, pushing him over the edge. He came, too, with a guttural growl of heated pleasure, his face flushed and hot. He fell on top of her, and they collapsed into a satisfied silence.
He eventually broke it.
“That was amazing,” he exhaled.
“Mmm-hmm,” Liv agreed. It was, by far, the best sex she’d had in her life. She felt...transformed. She’d never felt anything like this before. So this is what all the fuss was about, she thought. This was what bells and whistles really meant. Her whole body felt as if it had been rung like a bell. It still reverberated with pleasure.
Yet as the good feelings slowly ebbed away, the same old anxiety took its place.
She lay very still, wondering if this was the moment, like all the rest she’d been with, where he’d throw on clothes and set about the awkward business of rushing her out the door.
* * *
Liv dreaded it, but knew she ought to steel herself for the inevitable. She lay content for a few more seconds and then decided she should be the first to act. Rip the Band-Aid off before he could. She fidgeted beneath him and he rolled off her reluctantly. When she rose from the bed, he grabbed her by the waist.
“Where are you going?” he growled playfully.
“Home?” Liv offered, trying not to sound disappointed as she tried to find her clothes.
“No way,” he said, tightening his grip. “You are not ditching me that easily.”
She was surprised by his forcefulness. Could it be he really wanted her to stay?
“Getting cabs at this hour is a nightmare.”
“It’s only midnight,” she pointed out. It had been three in the morning when Kincaid had kicked her out, she remembered. Porter pulled her to him and gave her another kiss.
“Good,” he said. “Because I still need to try this.” He shook the flavored body powder he’d grabbed from the coffee table. He cupped her bare butt and guided her to his bedroom. Her knees, still weak from before, had no resistance left in them, and she tumbled into his bed. He unscrewed the powder lid, sprinkling it below her belly button. “Now then, let’s see why you like this powder so much,” he said, dipping his head down.
* * *
Liv came awake to the sensation of a strong arm around her waist, Porter’s warm body tucked closely to hers, as they spooned together in the middle of his sprawling king-size bed. For those first bleary minutes awake, Liv simply enjoyed the warmth, marveling at how well their bodies fit together. Still naked from the night before, she felt deliciously sore, decidedly satisfied. Porter had the kind of stamina Liv hadn’t seen before: he kept her up most of the night, trying out a dozen toys and even more positions. Porter had been right about one thing: he took sex very seriously.
The night had ended in his shower, where he still hadn’t stopped exploring. They’d collapsed, damp and exhausted, in his bed around four in the morning. She stretched and yawned, the morning light filtering through his gauzy white curtains.
“Good morning, gorgeous,” Porter murmured into the back of her hair. He stroked her arm, trailing his index finger down to her elbow and beyond, to her hip.
“Good morning,” Liv replied, feeling suddenly shy in Porter’s muscled arms. He rolled her over and kissed her full on the mouth.
“That was some party last night,” he said,
pulling her up on top of him.
“Sure was,” Liv agreed. Liv felt stiffness against her leg. “Don’t tell me that’s you. How do you have anything left?”
“I always have something left,” Porter growled, wrapping his arms around the small of Liv’s back and flipping her again, so he was on top. He nibbled on her ear and trailed kisses down the delicate skin of her neck. She shivered, feeling her own body respond, melting into his. They rolled once more, and she was on top again, his hands wrapped up in her hair. She wouldn’t think about what a bad idea this was, about how now, in the bright morning light, she was stone-cold sober. She wouldn’t have wine to blame this on later, and neither would he. Yet she couldn’t seem to stop herself. Now should’ve been the time she was slinking quietly out of his townhome, hoping not to wake him on the way out.
Everything so far had been perfect beyond her wildest dreams. She hated the idea of overstaying her welcome, of spoiling the best night of sex of her life. If this was all she was going to get, she didn’t want it marred by an awkward parting.
She couldn’t shake the feeling that at some point Porter would grow bored of her, just like the others. She couldn’t bear the thought of that rejection and felt the only way to handle it was to do it first.
Besides, did she even want to date Porter? A lawyer—like her father? Would she marry him and settle down in Oak Park and have a house like the one she grew up in?
She thought she’d spent most of her adult life trying not to be her parents, and now she was going to choose to mimic them to a T? It was ironic, to say the least.
Her phone dinged, an incoming message. She saw it was from her mother, and in the next instant, realized with horror that it was nearly noon. Her uncle! She was supposed to be over at her parents’ house now. She was beyond late.
“I’ve got to g-go!” she stammered, throwing the covers off as she tried to make a quick escape. Porter grabbed her arm.
“What’s the hurry?”
“I...I...” She didn’t want to mention she was late for a backyard barbecue. What if he asked to come along? Liv felt her blood run cold. That could not happen. “I’m late!” She wiggled out of his grasp and leaped out of bed, frantically searching for her clothes. Where were they? Downstairs. She scurried out his bedroom door naked and down the stairs. She saw her clothes discarded all around the living room: her black lacy bra on the arm of the couch, her black dress in a silky puddle on the carpet. His coffee table was filled with the toys from their party: empty condom wrappers, the small egg vibrator, and canisters of flavored body powder. Oh, boy, she thought. She had gone too far. She’d had too much to drink and gone...too far.
Granted, it was some of the...no, scratch that...the best sex of her life. She couldn’t really regret it, could she? She hurriedly slipped her bra on and scoured the carpet and sofa for her lacy underwear. She couldn’t find them.
“Going already?” came Porter’s deep and sexy voice from the top of the stairs. She glanced up and saw him leaning against the rail, a sly smile on his face. His taut muscles looked better than any shirt.
“I’ve got to...I’m late.”
“You can’t be having another party so soon.”
“What? No! Not a party.” Liv hurriedly pulled up sofa cushions, looking for her underwear. Where were they? They couldn’t have just walked off.
“You’re not going to tell me then?” Porter’s lip curled up in a smile, as if he already knew where she was headed.
“I just...I...”
“I need to pay you.”
“Pay me? For what?” She gave up looking for her underwear and started dumping unopened toys back in her suitcase.
“For the toys. I assume you don’t want to package some of them up again. And then there’s the hostess fee.”
“No, no. Don’t worry about it. You just don’t tell my dad and we’ll call it even.”
“It’s hardly even.” Porter came down the stairs slowly.
Her hair was no doubt a mess, and she hadn’t bothered glancing in a mirror yet. Had she washed off all her makeup? Would she be arriving at the family barbecue looking like a raccoon?
And then it hit her: she didn’t have time to go home and change. All she had was her dress from last night and...the stilettos. She’d be making the march of shame straight to her parents’ house. She dug around in her hostess suitcase. Surely she had a something in there. She looked in the interior pocket, and pulled out a lace-up corset and then some lacy garter belts. This was just getting worse.
Then she hit the back pocket, where she had a pair of black ballet flats she packed for emergency relief from uncomfortable heels. Thank God. She might be wearing the dress from the night before, but the ballet flats made it look decidedly less trampy. If she wore no makeup and her hair in a ponytail, even her mom might not comment on the plunging neckline. Might not, but probably would. She didn’t have underwear, though. That could be a problem. She considered wearing a pair of edibles, but didn’t want to sweat through the barbecue, her legs smelling like jellied strawberries. The fact was, edibles were meant to be eaten, not worn. She had no idea what they did if you wore them all day. Probably turned to a gooey, sticky mess. She’d just have to go without. Commando it is.
She zipped up her suitcase and wheeled it to the front door.
“Liv! Wait. Seriously. I can drive you.”
A bolt of panic shot through her. She imagined rolling up on the family gathering in Porter’s sleek BMW. “No! No, a cab is fine. Really.”
“Liv, come on. I’ll give you a ride. No need to shame-walk it.”
“Porter. Really. I’ve got this, okay?” She gave him a look that told him she meant it. He held up his hands, surrendering.
“If you insist.”
Liv had her hand on the front doorknob, when Porter grabbed her and pulled her close to his bare chest.
“When am I going to see you again?” he asked her, a growl in her ear. She felt a tingle all the way down to her toes. She hadn’t thought there would be a next time.
“I don’t know,” she whispered, voice low.
“Come on, Liv. I know you want to see me as much as I want to see you. You can’t fool me,” he said and pulled her in for a long, delicious kiss. Feeling the warmth of his tongue, she nearly forgot that she was late. Eventually, she broke the kiss, a little breathless.
“Sure you want to go?” he asked her, a gleam in his brown eyes.
“I’m not sure at all,” she said, with more honesty than she’d banked on. She panted a little, trying to get her heart rate under control. “I’ve got to, though.”
“Okay.” Porter ran his finger down the side of her face. “But I can’t wait to see you again.”
“I’m not doing another private party.” She wanted to be firm on that.
“Really?” He cocked an eyebrow, doubtful. His confidence made her doubt, too. Would she be able to stay away from him? “My guess is, I’ll see you sooner than you think.”
Chapter Six
Liv didn’t have time to worry about what Porter meant as she slid into the cab and gave him directions to Oak Park, the western burb where her parents lived. She frantically worked on her hair in the back of the cab that was taking her to her parents’ house. She’d gotten three more Where are you? texts from her parents, and even though she’d made excuses, she could tell they weren’t happy she was late. She smoothed down the front of her slightly wrinkled dress and fretted over the plunging neckline. Her mother wouldn’t approve, but she didn’t have an alternative. Not if she didn’t want to be later. Stopping by her own apartment, in the opposite direction,, would add another forty minutes to her already dismally long cab ride.
Liv glanced in her small compact and saw her eyes looked a little puffy: it’s not as though she’d gotten much sleep. This particular morning,
she thought she looked even more Chinese than Japanese, more like her mother’s relatives than her father’s. It was a subtle difference, and most people probably wouldn’t be able to spot it, but she could. She patted her face with powder, but no blush. Her mom would try to rub it off her cheeks if she saw her. That’s just the way she was about makeup.
Suddenly, in the cab, she had a memory of Porter’s muscled arms and his sure hands on her body. She shivered. Who needed sleep when she’d come a half dozen times?
I can’t wait to see you again, and part of Liv, the naughty part, certainly hoped that was true. Could she believe he really did want to see her again?
The cab pulled down the main street of quaint Oak Park, and Liv glanced at the familiar old buildings, looking out for the turn that would take them down her parents’ modest residential street lined with enormous, ancient oaks. They didn’t live in the huge, fancy Frank Lloyd Wright mansions adorning the old city avenues near where Ernest Hemingway grew up. Her father had chosen a down-to-earth three-bedroom bungalow, where she’d spent a good chunk of her childhood. She liked Oak Park and the quaint downtown, dozens of brightly painted Victorian houses lining the avenues, one of dozens of leafy Chicago suburbs that were once bustling little country towns in their own right.
She saw her family’s bungalow come into view, its warm buttery-colored trim paint greeting her like an old smile. She did love her parents’ house. It was full of memories: right out in front, down the small pull-in drive, was where she’d skinned her knee learning to ride her bike without training wheels.
Boys and Toys Page 4