Good In Bed

by Bromberg, K

  She reaches for the bottom of her dress and immediately breaks into another round of laughter. She’s gasping by the time she says, “I can’t. Seriously, I can’t.”

  “Caroline Jessica Murphy,” I say in my best displeased teacher voice. “Are you going to do as you’re told, or am I going to have to turn you over my knee?”

  She blinks once, twice, her eyes as round as the antique plates hanging on the wall behind her. “Are you serious?”

  “Why?” I let my gaze track down her curves. “Would you like that? To have me spank you for being disobedient?”

  Her eyes go even wider. “Um, I . . . I don’t know. I’m not sure I would like that.”

  “But you aren’t sure you wouldn’t?” I arch a brow, heat surging to my groin.

  She shakes her head and whispers, “No, I’m not sure about that either. When you look at me like that, I can imagine liking all kinds of things I’ve never imagined liking before.”

  “Good.” Her confession makes me even hotter. “Now, take off your dress for me, CJ. I want to see you in my lingerie.”

  She draws her lower lip between her teeth as she slowly reaches for the hem of the dress and then in one fluid motion pulls it up and over her head. And fuck me, but she’s gorgeous. Heart-stopping. Even more beautiful than I thought she would be.

  The blush-pink satin is so her, the crisscross fabric across the front suggestive and yet innocent at the same time. It’s a hint of what’s to come. A promise that if I’m very good, I can unhook the lingerie, let it fall to the floor, and admire her completely.

  “When I saw that color, I knew it would look perfect against your skin. I knew it would make you feel so damn sensual. Does it, CJ? Does it make you feel beautiful? Alluring? Irresistible.”

  She nods, her lips parting, a soft little murmur falling from them. “All of that.”

  “Good. Because you are.” My gaze drops to the matching garters that hold her stockings in place, and I groan. “So fucking irresistible.” I motion to her hair. “Now your hair. I want it down.”

  “You want it down,” she echoes, reaching both arms up to work the band from her hair, setting it free to fall in glossy waves around her shoulders. “You’re a bossy one, aren’t you?”

  “I know what I want. And right now, I want you to untie the bow at the top of your corset,” I say, my voice low and coaxing, daring her to own the moment. “Slow and confident, like you’re unveiling a priceless, precious work of art.”

  Her breath hitches, but she obeys, pulling at the silk ribbon, making my pulse spike as she loosens the bow and her breasts spill over the top of the plunging neckline. My first glance is enough to make my heart stop. Her breasts are each a perfect creamy handful, graced by a dusky pink nipple. I’m dying to get my mouth on her, but not yet.

  Not yet. Slow. Easy.

  If I go too far, too fast, I’ll scare her or hurt her, neither of which is an acceptable outcome.

  Her hands cross above her chest as she whispers, “I’m embarrassed,” proving she’s misunderstood my silence.

  “Oh no,” I insist, shaking my head. “No, no, don’t be. God, you’re beautiful. I was just lost in thought.”

  “That can’t be a good sign, if I’m taking my clothes off and you’re lost in thought?”

  “Thoughts about how much I want to get your nipples in my mouth,” I say, desire thick in my voice. “How much I want to taste you. Every inch of you. You’re driving me crazy, Butterfly, so please don’t stop. Show me more of you. Torture me, slow and sweet.”

  Awareness flickers across her face, like the sun rising in the morning. Like the power of her sensuality is dawning on her at this moment. It’s intoxicating to witness. It’s a privilege to see her step into her sexual beauty.

  “Torture . . .” she repeats.

  “Exquisite torture,” I add.

  With slow, deliberate flicks of her fingers, she draws the ribbon through one eyelet and then another, loosening the corset until the last bit of ribbon slides free and the silk boning falls to the floor at her high-heeled feet, leaving her in nothing but the lace garter belt, matching panties, and thigh-high stockings.

  “Good?” she asks, running a finger beneath the waist of the garter belt.

  “So good,” I murmur, my dick so hard there’s no way she hasn’t noticed the totem pole erected at the front of my pants. “Now the stockings.”

  Inch by inch, no, centimeter by centimeter—what an incredibly fast study she is when it comes to driving me out of my mind—she rolls the stockings down her toned thighs to the knee, then to her ankle, exposing more of her soft skin. I pull in a shaky breath, desperate to feel every inch of her bare beneath me, writhing and calling my name as I glide in and out of her tight heat. She’s crossed the line into goddess territory, and by the Mona Lisa smile on her face as she slowly turns her back, peeking at me over her shoulder as she grants me another killer view, I suspect she knows it.

  “How do you feel about stripping now?” I ask. “Now that you’ve driven me out of my mind with wanting you?”

  “Pretty good,” she whispers with a nervous laugh. “But just FYI, I’m not going to be able to get the garter belt off in a sexy way. It’s designed so that I have to take it on and off over my head, and it tends to get stuck on certain . . . obstacles.”

  I laugh too, partly because the sound of her laughing is infectious. Maybe also because it can be fun to laugh even when you’re burning with lust.

  “Obstacles like your perfect tits?” My heart pounds as she wiggles out of the garter belt with her back to me, slaying me with every shift of her hips.

  “You really think they’re perfect?” she asks, freeing herself and tossing the belt to the floor as I make a mental note to consult with my design team for a garter fix.

  “I do, but I’d like to feast my eyes on them again. Turn back to me. I’ve seen how gorgeous you look in the lingerie I make. Now I want to see how gorgeous you look out of it.”

  Slowly, carefully, she turns to face me, revealing nearly every stunning inch of her. She’s ridiculously beautiful—the kind of angel fallen from the heavens men write poetry about. Innocence still flickers in her big eyes, making her all the more irresistible. She has no idea how dangerous she’s becoming, how easy it would be for her to hold a man’s soul in the palm of her hand.

  Hell, I would sell mine in a heartbeat if that was what it took to ensure my mouth was on her skin in the next ten seconds. My cock jerks again, throbbing insistently in my pants, demanding to be allowed to attend the party.

  Control. Must maintain control . . .

  “You are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” I say, my jaw clenched in an attempt to keep from scaring her, but my next words still emerge as a growl. “Come. Here. Right now.”

  She tosses her dark hair to the side again—God, she has a lot of hair, wild hair, all wavy and messy, the way I like it. “Now?” she asks, teasing me, apparently having no idea how close I am to the edge.

  “Now,” I repeat, my voice harsh. By the time she glides to a stop in front of me, my restraint is wearing thin. From the edge of my seat, I reach out and, almost violently, yank her close. The air whooshes out of her lungs as she braces her hands on my shoulders, setting her breasts to bobbing so near to my face it almost kills me.

  “Did I really drive you crazy?” she breathes, excitement and surprise clear in her gaze as she meets mine. “You still look fairly calm.”

  I take her hand and plant it flush against my chest, covering it with my own. “Feel that?”

  Her eyes widen as my heart does its best to jackhammer through my ribs. “Wow.”

  “Indeed,” I agree, letting my gaze roam over every inch of her. “Do I have permission to touch, Stripper Goddess CJ?”

  “Oh, yes, please,” she whispers, her fingers threading gently into my hair.

  Carefully, I plant my hands on the backs of her thighs, drawing her closer then skimming my palms up over the ample curve o
f her ass. I can feel her tremble as I bend to kiss her belly, traveling to her navel, her hipbone.

  “You taste like honey.” I open my mouth, my tongue swirling into the hollow near her hip, wanting to lick every inch of her at once.

  I lower my face to the top of her blush-pink panties, pressing a kiss to the fabric, inhaling her sexy scent as I do.

  “Graham,” she says my name so softly it barely registers.

  “Yes, Butterfly?” I look up at her. Her brown eyes are fierce and strong, full of passion.

  “There’s a problem with my panties.”

  My brow knits. “What?”

  “A big problem.”

  “These panties were tested six ways to Sunday by the design team.” I shake my head. I can’t conceive of what possible problem there would be. The fit, the feel—everything looks like it’s made for her body. That’s what my team does. They make beautiful lingerie that hugs the woman who wears it.

  The flicker of a smirk spreads on her face. “That’s not the problem.”

  Chapter 12

  CJ

  He stares at me with worry in his blue eyes.

  He’s going to learn he has nothing to worry about.

  And I’m about to experience something wholly new for me.

  Stepping into the role of a seductress.

  I lean closer to him, my breasts dangerously near his face, my lips moving closer to his ear. A thrill races through me at what I’m about to do, and I can barely hear him over the heartbeat pounding in my ears.

  I’m not climbing a mountain or diving out of a plane, but to me this feels the same. I’m letting go of my safety harness and stepping into the sexual unknown. So far, he’s directed me. He’s told me what to do. I’ve cherished him taking the lead, and I want him to keep doing so.

  But for a moment, I want to hold the reins.

  My lips reach his earlobe, and I nip ever so gently on it. He groans like an animal, and the sound electrifies me. “The problem is,” I whisper, “that they’re still on.”

  His breath hisses, and he grunts my name like it’s a forbidden word. “CJ.”

  And then I take the next leap, telling him what I want. “Take them off,” I whisper.

  A growl is my reward, masculine and husky and so damn sexy. “You had me going, and look at you. You’re teasing the teacher, and I fucking love it.”

  I want to shout it worked, it worked, but I’m too turned on to do anything but melt into his touch. I thought I was turned on the last time we were alone, but this is even more intense, like tiny electrical shocks are racing across my skin.

  He hooks his fingers in the sides of my panties, and with a jerk, takes the reins again. I step out of the lingerie.

  “Now spread your legs for me, Butterfly. Let me see you.”

  Flushed all over and dizzy with desire, I weave my fingers into his hair, holding onto him for support as I part my trembling legs, widening my stance, grateful that once again he’s in charge.

  “So sexy, so hot,” he says, gazing hungrily at my newly exposed skin. Then, without warning, he leans over, flicking his tongue over the seam of me, and my knees go boneless.

  God, how can one simple touch of his tongue be so intense?

  I feel it everywhere, absolutely everywhere as he licks me again, teasing and probing, exploring me until I truly can’t stand another moment. I gasp as my legs buckle.

  “I’ve got you, baby.” He catches me, easily lifting me into his arms and carrying me to the fairy-tale bed.

  When he lays me down on the smooth white sheets, my pulse spikes, anxiety rearing its terrified head as he kneels between my legs and runs his warm hands down my thighs. I’m naked as the day I was born, and he’s still fully dressed.

  I blush at the inequity, my voice raspy as I ask, “What are you doing?”

  “Finishing what I started,” he says, his hands hooking behind my knees.

  I know what he means, and I want it—oh, God, how I want it—but it feels even more intimate like this, lying down and stripped bare, with nothing to hide behind and nowhere to run if things get too intense. “I don’t know if—”

  “It’s okay. I know,” he says, slowly but surely spreading my legs wide. “And I need to make you come on my mouth, Butterfly. I need it like I need air.”

  Far be it from me to deny him breathing.

  He lowers his face, kissing me there with such reverence my heart breaks a little. I never imagined it could be like this, that kinky things could be so unbearably sweet or filled with so much affection. That they could make me feel not just turned on, but cracked open, like a flower widening to the sun with no choice but to reach out and soak in the light it needs to stay alive.

  But this might kill you. To have this and then lose it so fast . . .

  For a moment, the thought is enough to scare away the rush of pleasure, but then Graham moans and tilts his face, beginning to devour me with a single-minded intensity that leaves no doubt he loves everything he’s doing to me, and I let go. I let go of worry and fear, and I give in to this, to this man who is everything I hoped he would be and so much more.

  I fantasized about him when I was younger. But I never expected true pleasure could be this good, this transporting. I never knew he’d enjoy it so much either, but judging from the sounds he’s making as he devours me, we’re both sliding into a new plane of bliss.

  I relax into sensation, letting my knees fall wide open, threading my fingers through his hair. Pure pleasure radiates through me as his tongue laps me up. It’s such an intoxicating mix of soft and filthy at the same damn time.

  He slips his hands under my ass, pulling me to the edge of the bed and spreading me as his tongue glides across my wetness, up and down, then centering on my clit, where I ache for him. I ache exquisitely, and he knows just how to satisfy the need howling inside of me. He flicks his tongue, slow and deliberate, making my hips shoot up. Oh God, but I need more. More of him there, oh there, yes, there . . .

  I rock into him, and he strokes faster, lavishing attention where I want him most, driving me into a fevered frenzy.

  “Right there, oh yes, please, yes,” I beg, gripping his hair more roughly, bringing him even closer as he sucks hard on my clit and the storm inside me intensifies.

  My head thrashes from side to side, my hair flying into my face. “Oh, God, Graham. Oh, God,” I gasp, and then I’m hurtling over the edge, coming with such force that it feels as if I’m tearing apart at the seams, shattering as my insides clench and release with a ferocity that is almost frightening.

  I’ve always loved being scared. Only this isn’t terrifying in the same way. This is wonderful and wicked, and it makes me feel so much more alive, like my entire body is plugged in, lit up and flickering with a million lights.

  I run my hands through his hair, expecting him to slow his pace and stop, but he doesn’t. He continues to consume me, his tongue pulsing deep inside, drawing out the exquisite release until I feel as if I’m having an out-of-body experience. Or perhaps another orgasm.

  An unexpected second wave crashes over me, and I cry out. My vision blurs.

  He slows his pace, pressing a final tender kiss to my center before he moves up.

  “Oh . . . my . . . God,” I pant, words becoming a hum of happiness as Graham rises over me and finds my lips with his, kissing me hard and deep. I taste myself on his tongue, but unexpectedly, I don’t mind it. In fact, I almost like it. He tastes like he belongs to me, like mine.

  Mine. Damn, but I like the sound of that way more than I should.

  “That was amazing,” I whisper, my voice dreamy. “Both.”

  “You’re amazing. Multiplied,” he says with a wink, then rolls onto his back in one swift motion. He pulls me on top of him, his hands cupping my ass as my thighs part and the thick ridge of his cock presses between my legs. Even through his pants, the sensation is enough to make me moan, low and hungry, in my throat.

  I want that. I want him. I’m ready for e
very inch, no matter how much it might hurt, because being without him inside me hurts so much more.

  “I’m ready,” I say, as his hands travel over my ribcage and mold to my breasts. He guides one to his mouth, circling his tongue on my nipple until it draws even tighter, harder.

  “Butterfly,” he says, full of concern, “it’s too soon. I don’t want to rush you.”

  I shake my head hard, nearly coming out of my skin as he sucks my nipple into his mouth. “But that makes me want it even more.”

  He chuckles against my skin. “I love that you want it. And you have to know how badly I do too. But I’d be a terrible teacher if I let the second lesson get too far out of control.”

  He lets go of my breasts and shoots me a sexy smile. This man. He knows how to make a woman want him, crave him, need him.

  But it’s more than all that. After only two lessons, I’m dying for him.

  “I can’t believe you have me this worked up already,” I say softly.

  “You worked up is my favorite dirty dream.”

  I nibble on the corner of my lips, thinking of my dirty dreams, and how he’s starred in so many of them. How he’s guiding me through the reality of them now. And once more I step into the sensuality that he’s helping me see I possess.

  “I have dirty dreams about you,” I whisper.

  He swallows. “You do?” The words come out like gravel.

  I’ve surprised him again. Caught him off guard. And I like it.

  Based on the pulsing shaft pressing into me, he likes it too.

  I nod. “I dream about stripping your clothes off.” I’m not going to bother with finesse. But I like speaking my dirty mind with him. A dirty mind I always knew I had but was never able to put to good use until him.

  He spreads his arms out wide on the bed, an invitation. “Then explore me, CJ. Take my clothes off like it’s your dirty dream.”

  “Is this lesson three?”