“That so?”
Delilah stood to try to diffuse the situation. As she did, Sam chose that moment to turn on the vibrator again. It jolted her, making her suck in a sharp breath and double over.
“Are you all right?” Marion asked, coming to her side in a flash.
Sam turned it off and she righted herself, flashing him a glare. “Fine. I must have pulled a muscle in yoga class. It caught me by surprise.”
“Where did you say you knew each other?” Graeme asked.
“I didn’t say,” Sam said.
Anger flashed over Graeme’s face.
“We used to all hang out together about, oh, a decade ago. Right, Delilah?” Marion was the one who answered. She grasped Delilah’s arm. “Can I talk to you?”
Before she could agree or object, Marion dragged her toward the ladies room. She waited until they were safely behind the wood door before reeling on her.
“What the hell, Delilah? I thought you were going to give Dirk a chance?”
Delilah leaned against the long countertop of sinks. The hard edge pierced her back. Thankfully, she was far enough away from Sam and his remote to get zapped. It’d give her time to get back under control, to calm her ragged nerves.
“No. That’s what you wanted me to do. That’s not what I wanted to do. I said I’d sit next to him at the reception. I didn’t say I’d date him.”
“Because you want to ‘date’ Sam.” Marion put air quotes around the word date and then stuck her hands on her waist in exasperation. “I thought he was dead to you.”
“He was. Marion, you and I both know Dirk isn’t the guy for me. He’s nice and all but he’s not the one.”
“And Sam is? He broke your heart. He nearly destroyed you. And I won’t stand by and watch him do it again.”
“He’s not going to,” Delilah said.
“And you know this how?”
“We have a deal.”
That brought Marion up short. “What kind of deal?”
“A no sex kind of deal. At least no sex yet. He said he wants to make it up to me. He wants to seduce me.”
“Oh, please. He will never make up for what he did to you.”
“People change, Marion.”
“People, sure. Not Sam.”
“I’m going to give him a chance.”
“You’re crazy.”
“You can think that, I guess.”
Marion bit her lip and turned toward one of the stalls, banging it open with her fist. She slammed it closed and a few seconds later, Delilah could hear the rustle of clothing.
“I just don’t understand how you can give him another chance,” she said from behind the stall door.
“I don’t know either.” Delilah reapplied her lipstick and fluffed her hair. “But it’s something I want to try. I think he’s really changed. He’s a business owner now.”
Marion snorted. “Right. The sex toy shop. Are you sure it’s such a good idea?”
“I don’t know,” Delilah admitted. She leaned on the counter and peered closely at her face in the mirror. “All I do know is I can’t ignore these feelings.”
Marion flushed and exited the stall, tucking her purse under her arm as she washed her hands. “I hope you know what you’re doing.”
“I do, too. Last night he took me to dinner and was the perfect gentleman all night.” Until he made her remove her panties. That was not so gentlemanly.
Marion halted her washing and stared at her in the mirror. “You went to dinner with him last night?”
“Yes.”
“And you failed to tell me?”
“I’m telling you now.”
Exasperated, Marion reached for the paper towels. “Do me a favor, Del. Don’t let him hurt you again or I’ll have to kill him.”
She chuckled. “I won’t.”
“I hope so.” Marion tossed the towels in the trash and then headed for the door. “Come on. I’m dying for a coffee.”
“You’re staying?”
“Someone has to keep an eye on you two.”
“I don’t need a babysitter.”
“Not a babysitter. A chaperone.”
Delilah snorted. She didn’t need a chaperone either. When they arrived back at their seats, Sam held two paper cups in his hand. Graeme was at the counter ordering. Marion split off from her and joined her fiancé while Delilah took her seat next to Sam. He handed her the cup.
“Your coffee.”
“Thanks.”
“She looks happy.” He watched Marion and Graeme. She grasped his arm, standing close to him as he ordered.
“She is,” Delilah said. “Deliriously happy.”
“When’s the wedding?”
“Saturday.”
He turned away from them and leaned toward her, his elbows on his knees. “And you’re the maid of honor.”
“Of course.” She flashed a smile.
“You have a date?”
“Not yet.”
“You want a date?”
“Not yet.”
“Ah.” He leaned back in his chair and propped his ankle on his knee. “So I haven’t made it to wedding date material yet. Have I?”
She took a sip of her coffee, still amazed he remembered how she liked it. It was perfect. “The jury’s still out.”
It was almost as though Delilah could see the wheels turning in his head and she knew he was thinking of ways to become wedding date material.
To punish her, he pushed the button on his remote. She’d just gotten the arousal under control and now it ramped up again. Her hand tightened on her cup. She met his gaze. His determined, purposeful, sexy gaze.
“You want me to stop?” His voice was low, like a purr, an invitation, a command.
She bit her bottom lip with the onslaught of the vibration. She would never beg for him to stop. But the vibrating between her legs only made her hornier. A little mewl bubbled up her throat. He grinned and flicked the switch to off. It left her clit throbbing and begging for more. Begging for his touch. Her gaze landed on his lips and all she could think about was having them on her.
“You’re flushed,” he said.
Delilah took a deep breath and watched Marion and Graeme head toward them with coffees in hand.
“You want to come, don’t you?” he taunted.
“No.” She gritted the word out between clenched teeth.
Sam’s cell phone rang. When he checked it, he hit a button to quiet it and then slipped it back in his pocket. She would have thought nothing of it except he shifted uncomfortably in his chair. And he had a guilty look on his face. Her eyes narrowed as she watched him.
“What’s the matter?” she asked.
“Nothing.”
He muttered it as the happy couple joined them.
Delilah had the sudden feeling it wasn’t nothing.
Chapter Seven
As Marion and Graeme took a seat, Delilah knew she couldn’t stay there with the three of them and pretend everything was cool. It was too awkward and she was too aroused. She shot to her feet, smoothed her palms down her skirt.
“I just remembered I have an early morning appointment,” she said.
“But—”
“Sam, could you take me home?” Delilah barreled over Marion and pinned him with her desperate gaze.
He got to his feet. “Sure.”
“You didn’t drive yourself?” Marion didn’t hide the surprise in her voice. She knew all too well about Delilah’s dating rules.
“No.” She flashed her friend a smile as she hooked her arm in Sam’s. “Sorry to run out on you two but I really have to go.”
She practically dragged Sam away before either of them could say farewell. Sam didn’t say a word as they headed out of the coffee house. Her shoes clicked in rapid fire pace as they headed for his car.
“You want to tell me what that was about?” He sounded a little breathless with their hurried gait.
But Delilah didn’t want to let up in case Mar
ion decided to come after them. “That what?”
“Delilah.” He halted, grabbed her by the hand and turned her to face him. “You don’t want Marion to know about us.”
Her laugh sounded fake even to her ears. “Don’t be silly. I told Marion.”
“But she doesn’t approve, does she?” He took her shoulders, holding her steady.
“I don’t care what Marion thinks.”
“Yes, you do. She’s your best friend and has been for years. You two are joined at the hip. You tell each other everything.” He dropped his voice and gave her a piercing look. “Are you embarrassed to be with me?”
“God, no!” She pushed him away, took a step back. “It’s not that, Sam. It’s just that…Marion wouldn’t understand. She was trying to fix me up with some guy Graeme knows and she thinks I should be dating him.”
“Instead of me, you mean.” He shoved his hands in his pockets and turned away from her.
“Instead of anyone.” She moved to stand next to him. “He’s some rich art guy she thinks is perfect for me.”
He cut her a glance. “Is he?”
“Not in the least.”
Sam angled toward her. “Who is?”
“Sam…”
His hands slid around her waist. “Were you turned on in there?”
Delilah bit her lip and said a breathless, “Yes.” Even thinking about it now made her slick with wet heat. His fingers were hot on her waist, burning through her clothes and pressing into her skin. She wanted those fingers in her, on her. Those hands touching her, stroking her. Those lips kissing her, caressing her.
His gaze lowered to her lips. “Are you turned on now?”
What was he doing to her? But she couldn’t lie because she was and he knew she was. “Yes.”
“I knew you were.”
“How?”
“Your cheeks are pink. You always flush when you’re turned on. You always have.”
“I do not.”
“Yes, you do. It’s sexy as fucking hell, Delilah.”
When he said her name, her breath hitched and she tried to stifle the moan but couldn’t.
“Let’s get you home.” The corner of his mouth lifted in a grin.
She followed him to his car with eagerness in her step.
* * *
Sam walked her to the door like a gentleman. He hadn’t used the vibrator on her anymore which was a little bit of a disappointment. She’d hoped he’d give her at least one last thrill before leaving her. She unlocked the door and turned to him.
“Thanks for the coffee.”
Their gazes locked for a long, quiet second and then he cupped her face and came in for the kiss. The second his lips met hers, she was all wet heat again. Her panties were soaked through and it made things rather uncomfortable. He groaned deep in his throat as his tongue slid against hers. She couldn’t stop from kissing him back with a delicious relish. When he trailed kisses down her throat, she tried hard to catch her breath.
“Sam, come inside. Please.”
When the words were out of her mouth, she stifled a giggle. They sounded much like an innuendo.
He reached behind her and opened the door, then walked her inside, his mouth still on her. As soon as they went past the threshold, he kicked the door closed and spun her around. He cupped her breast with a gentle squeeze.
“Are you still wet for me now?” His breath was hot in her ear.
She ground her ass against his crotch. “Yes, oh, yes. Sam, I want you.”
“How bad?”
“Bad.”
“Not good enough.”
One hand slid down to her waist. He fisted her skirt and pulled it up then pushed his hand over her mound. Her body rocked against him, begging and pleading for more. Please let him touch me.
“Is this what you want?” he asked.
“Put your hands on me, Sam.”
His hand moved beneath the material and pushed between her legs. She nearly cried with relief when his fingers pushed between her female lips and over her wet swollen clit. He made long, slow lazy circles, bringing her right to the edge. She stepped her feet apart to give him more access. Her heart pounded a wild beat against her ribcage. All the blood rushed from her head, leaving her lightheaded.
“Like this?” he asked.
Her hips rocked in concert with his hand. “Yes. I want to come, Sam.”
“No.”
He removed his hand but her body still throbbed in the wake of his touch. She wanted to scream her frustration. Before she could move or turn around, he shoved up her skirt and gave her an order.
“Bend over.”
A little gasp escaped her but she was quick to comply.
“Take off your panties.”
She didn’t hesitate. She quickly shoved them down her legs and shimmied out of them, baring her ass to him. She hoped he was going to do more naughty things with his fingers. His hand caressed first one ass cheek, then the next.
“Such a pretty ass.” His voice was low and soft. “Still is.”
And then he spanked her. The slap resonated through her small living room.
“You’re still a bad girl, aren’t you, Delilah?”
“Yes.”
He whacked her other ass cheek to even things out.
“There. Now your ass looks like your cheeks when you’re aroused. Pretty and pink.”
She was practically dripping arousal and need. She wanted to slide her fingers over her clit and get herself off.
“Don’t you dare touch yourself,” he warned.
How did he know? Did he sense her emotions running so high she was about implode?
“Feet apart,” he demanded.
She whimpered from her lack of release but did as she was told. His fingers started at her hips then down, down, down between each cheek over her anus. He only paused for a brief second there to play with her before moving lower, lower, lower still. She didn’t stop the puff of breath from escaping when his finger entered her. He pumped in and out. Slow at first and then quickening the pace.
“You want to come, don’t you?”
“Yes, Sam.”
“Then do it. Make yourself come while my finger is in you.”
She bit her lip. “No.”
Her refusal didn’t stop his onslaught. “Why not?”
“Because I want you fucking me when I come.” And she punctuated that with a whimper.
He pushed his finger inside her once more before holding it there and then slowly sliding it out. “That’s my girl.”
Delilah stood straight and peered at him over her shoulder. “But that’s not going to be tonight, is it?”
He gave her a wicked, feral grin. “Nope.”
“I hate you.”
He laughed. “Our hate is only beginning.” He learned toward her, kissed her. “See you tomorrow.”
“What will it be this time?” she demanded. “Another date to torture me?”
“Maybe.” Mischief glimmered in his blue eyes. “I’ll be here at seven. Be ready for me.”
“Silly man. I’m always ready for you.”
“Just what I wanted to hear.”
* * *
Sam sped away from Delilah’s house as though the devil chased him. He even left burned rubber marks in the pavement as he took off from the stop sign and turned up the street, heading for the highway.
He couldn’t get her out of his mind. He didn’t want to get her out of his mind. He couldn’t get the taste of her out of his mouth either. Like something sweet and succulent just for him.
Delilah had changed and all for the better. She’d aged gracefully and become a woman who knew exactly what she wanted and how to get it. And she had become much more experienced since the last time they’d been together. He had a feeling she would be when he first saw her in the shop and knew he had to get her under him somehow, some way.
He never expected her to buckle. She’d always been strong-willed. She had whimpered and practically begge
d him to fuck her.
And he would. Fuck her. Hard. And more than once.
Their first encounter hadn’t been planned. He hadn’t intended to take her like that against the refrigerator. He had intended to tease her a bit, make her want him. Leave her hot and bothered and then come back for more. But that night she’d looked at him with a scorching gaze that told him he could go for it and she’d let him.
And then she’d abruptly kicked him out.
That had been a blow. But Sam wasn’t one to be dissuaded. So when he hatched his planned seduction, he never anticipated it would leave him with a rock hard cock every night. She’d obeyed his orders so prettily. So easily. She’d bared his ass to him, making him want her. Making him want to unzip and push inside her. Making him want to bang against that sweet ass.
Instead, he’d shoved his fingers deep inside her. She was still warm, wet and tight. Just the way he remembered. Just the way he wanted.
He wanted her. No matter how or the cost. He would get her.
But he had one obstacle to get rid of before she found out. One pesky annoying obstacle that wanted his undivided attention. She’d called him while they were in the coffee house and he put his phone on silent. He’d ignored the vibrating cell phone in his pocket from then on.
He knew it was Vanessa calling, checking up on him. Wondering where he was. He had managed to avoid her all day.
She wasn’t a perfect girlfriend but she was his girlfriend, as much as he hated to admit it. He had to face the fact he had her on the hook while he had Delilah under his skin.
Silence embraced the neighborhood as he pulled into his driveway. Vanessa’s car was parked out front, a minor inconvenience. Sitting in his car, he replayed the day, trying to remember if they’d made plans for that night. He cursed himself for being generous enough to give her a key. She didn’t deserve a key and he didn’t much like her having full access to his place. Now getting that key back would be difficult. And changing the locks would make him look like an ass. He cringed, readying his arsenal of lies and deceptions to keep her at bay.
When he got inside, she was asleep on the sofa. The glow of the TV was the only light in the room, casting whitish-blue shadows across her too-young face. Nessa would age quickly, he thought, with all the tanning she loved to do. She was a sun-worshipper. When she wasn’t lying by the pool, she was lying in the tanning bed.
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