Sex, Lust & Martinis

by Michelle Miles

  Nessa stirred when she heard the door close and sat up, blinking the sleep out of her eyes and squinting against the brightness of the glowing TV. “Sam?”

  “Yeah, it’s me.”

  “What time is it?” She yawned and stood, stretching her arms in front of her.

  “Late,” was all he said. He tossed his keys on the kitchen counter. He could hear her following him into the room as he took a soda out of the fridge, needing it to soothe him. His nerves were raw and he was horny beyond words. What he needed was release.

  No. What he needed was Delilah.

  She stared at the soda in his hand, giving him a questioning look. “Where have you been all day? I thought you’d be home hours ago.”

  “Johnny called,” Sam said, pulling out his lie. “He wanted to hang out today. We caught the game on the big screen.”

  She came suddenly awake, giving him a suspicious look. “Were you at the bar? You’re not supposed to be at the bar.”

  She liked to nag him about his drinking even though he hadn’t had a drop in years. It was enough to make him want to drink again. He never should have told her he was in AA.

  “No. We met up at The Grill in downtown.”

  “What grill?” She put her hands on her hips, her large fake breasts straining against the cotton of her thin T-shirt.

  “Not a grill, The Grill. The new place in downtown Johnny’s buddy owns.”

  “I tried to call you.”

  He knew. His phone showed seven missed calls. “That place is loud. I couldn’t hear the phone. And the game was on. Did we have plans tonight?”

  She blinked and her face flushed. “No. I came by to bring you dinner but you weren’t here, so I waited.”

  “Thanks but I don’t need dinner. Why don’t you go home. Okay?”

  She dropped her arms, then folded them across her chest. Her breasts, again, strained against the shirt.

  All Sam could think about was the soft, supple real breasts Delilah had. Perfect breasts that fit in the palm of his hand. Gorgeous nipples he could suck on till she moaned and begged him to stop.

  “You’re an asshole.” Her expression told him he was pushing her to her limits.

  “You knew the job was dangerous when you took it, sweetheart.”

  Vanessa stomped away and returned a moment later with keys in her hand. “I’m not going to stand here and take this.”

  “So don’t.”

  She stood there a long moment, staring at him, biting her lip. Probably hoping he would change his mind. Hoping he would ask her to stay and take her to bed.

  Well, he wasn’t. Not tonight. Not with the taste and scent of Delilah still so fresh.

  She stormed off, slamming the door behind her with a loud finality. But Sam knew better. They’d fought before. She’d show up at the store with red-rimmed puffy eyes and she’d apologize for being that way and all would be well.

  Still, Nessa was young but she wasn’t a fool, so Sam knew he would have to be very careful about how he handled the situation with Delilah. The last thing he needed on his hands was an irate girlfriend…who he intended to break up with at the first possible moment. Because he knew he wanted Delilah.

  Tomorrow would be the day he sealed the deal with Delilah. He could hardly wait.

  Chapter Eight

  Delilah was on pins and needles. She avoided Marion’s calls like the plague which made her feel guilty. She couldn’t talk to her about what happened last night. Not yet. She knew Marion would ask her endless questions about why she and Sam abruptly left the coffee house. Questions she wasn’t prepared to answer.

  Marion’s wedding was in five days. Even though Delilah was the maid of honor, Marion was a super control freak. Bridezilla didn’t even come close. So there wasn’t much for Delilah to do until the big day which was fine by her. The less she had to do, the better. It kept them from fighting and gave Delilah ample time to think about Sam.

  She’d been considering asking Sam to go with her. But then, she wasn’t sure if that was a good idea. It would spawn more endless questions from Marion. And Delilah wasn’t exactly sure where this thing with Sam was going. If anywhere. If it was sex and only sex. If there would be more than sex. More than lust.

  Delilah took a half day off from work and went for a manicure and a pedicure. It helped soothe her ragged nerves and gave her time to think about Sam. She never expected the old feelings to erupt for him. She never thought she would want him as bad as she did. She thought she was totally and completely over him.

  She thought wrong.

  She wasn’t over him. In fact, she was head over heels in lust with him. And maybe a little love. Yes, there was love there, too. Love that had never really died between them. Not that she was ready to admit that yet. She wanted to know how he felt first.

  Finally the hour approached when Sam was supposed to show up. Right on time, her door bell rang announcing his arrival. She’d chosen a long flowing skirt and a sleeveless tank. Skirts had served her well with him. She decided to go barefoot because she hoped tonight was the night she and Sam would, at last, end up between the sheets.

  When she opened the door to him, she stopped short. He stood there with a giant bouquet of stargazer lilies, their sweet scent wafting immediately to her nose. It made her weak the knees…and the heart.

  “Good evening.” He handed her the flowers. “They’re still your favorite, right?”

  “Yes.”

  Damn him. He’d moved from seduction to…what? Being sweet to her? She didn’t need sweet. She needed yearning. A hungering ache only he and his cock could sate. When he handed over the flowers, she noticed he carried a large paper bag.

  “What’s in the bag?”

  He followed her inside as she went to the kitchen to find a vase for the flowers.

  “Something for you.”

  Her heart jolted. Another gift? “The last give you gave me left me wanting.”

  “This one won’t. I promise.”

  When she turned from filling the vase, he held the bag out to her. Still she hesitated.

  He wiggled it at her. “Come on.”

  She took it from him. It was heavier than she anticipated. She placed it on the counter, opened it and peered inside. A bottle of Grey Goose and another smaller box. She reached for the bottle of vodka first.

  “Still your favorite?” he asked.

  “Yes.”

  She glanced at him, the heat rising to her cheeks. He’d brought her flowers—her favorite—and vodka—also her favorite. How could she even begin to resist him now?

  “I hope you don’t mind if I make one.”

  “Not at all. I’d hoped you would.”

  She set is aside and went to work making a martini. Shaken, not stirred. After pouring one, she took a healthy swig.

  “There’s something else in the bag,” he said.

  “I know.” She was stalling. Even though she wanted to know what else was in there, she was leery due to his previous gift of vibrating red panties.

  His blue eyes never wavered from her face. “Open it, Delilah.”

  Setting aside her glass, she reached for the box. It was a glass dildo. Her heart double-timed it in her chest and she hoped it meant what it implied. Her body responded to the thoughts swirling in her head—thoughts of Sam’s mouth on her, his cock inside her. She reached for her glass and downed the rest of her drink.

  “Have another drink,” he urged as he slipped the box from her hands. “This is for later. Much later.”

  “What are you trying to do to me?”

  “I’m trying to show you I missed you.”

  Delilah blinked. That was the last thing she’d expected from Sam. “You missed me?”

  “I didn’t realize how much until you walked into my shop. My God, Delilah. It’s been ten years and not a day has gone by I haven’t thought about you at least once.”

  “Are you high?”

  “Stop with the jokes. I’m not joking.” He grasped
her shoulders, his expression serious. “Can you honestly tell me you don’t have any feelings for me either?”

  She could admit there was still fire there. Uncontrollable, searing, blistering fire boiling through her skin and onto his. An undying need that needed to be sated.

  “You can’t tell me you felt nothing.”

  “I felt a lot of somethings,” she said. “Specifically your hands…your mouth…” Her heart pumped heated blood through her system. Her nerves quivered under his touch. And she wanted him desperately to do all those things to her again and more.

  “And what?” he demanded, sparks flashing in his eyes. Turning the normal mellow to something dark and dangerous.

  She bit her lip. He cupped her face, pulled her to him. She waited, holding her breath for the kiss that never came. He started his assault at the base of her throat and worked his way around to her left earlobe.

  “I wanted you the minute I saw you in my shop.” His words were against her skin, leaving a steamy path in his wake. “Even with your haughtiness.”

  “Sam…”

  She couldn’t admit to him she wanted him, too. Not yet. She couldn’t admit it to him or herself even though she knew it to be true. Even though she knew she wanted to let him take her.

  He had one hand in her hair while the other slid behind her. He flicked the clasp of her bra open with one snap of his fingers—a talent for which he was well-known. The breath shuddered out of her.

  Heat had pooled in her center core, thumping a daring beat of need and desire. She’d gone slick and wet, something Sam could always elicit out of her. But this was more intense. More desperate. More want.

  Sam slipped his hands under her shirt, cupping her breasts. Her nipples were hard, so painfully taut, peaking against his palms as his fingers kneaded her flesh.

  “You still have great breasts.”

  He murmured the words against her lips before he took them in a fierce kiss. Their mouths molded against each other, old and familiar yet new and experienced. Even though they’d kissed a hundred times in the past, something was different now. Perhaps because time and distance had separated them for so long. And they’d each gained more experience from various lovers over the years.

  Sam pushed her shirt over her head and she let him. She let him unclothe her, let him run his hands all over her, let him bend down and take her pink painful peak in his mouth. He sucked her nipple, relieving some of the pent-up pressure and shooting it straight down her body to heat the dampness between her legs. Her fingers slid through his thick hair, gripping his head, holding him there and letting him suckle her. Delilah moaned, allowing pleasure to overtake her.

  He stood, their mouths collided, their tongues tangling, their breath mingling. Almost as fast as it started, she shoved him backward, but their hands never stopped touching, exploring.

  “I hope you’re not teasing,” she said.

  “Not this time.” He kissed the tip of her nose. “I plan to fuck you, Delilah.”

  Crude, but effective. Her body screamed yes as she took his hand. He snatched the box with the new toy off the counter. She led him to her darkened bedroom. He tossed the box on the bed before stripping off his shirt. They each stood admiring the other. They rediscovered each other with the early evening sun slashing across the carpet. Undressing each other slowly, running hands over dips and curves. Touching, testing, tasting. Delilah had forgotten so many things about Sam but remembered so many more.

  His arms were still muscular. She ran her fingertips across his broad chest, enjoying the coarse feel of the sprinkling of hair, his warmth. He pulled her to him, crushing her breasts against his chest and skin meeting skin for the first time in years. Delilah didn’t count the little soiree they’d had in her kitchen—it was down and dirty and this was different. This was slow and intoxicating. This was unhurried, measured caresses meant to take time.

  And both her body and mind were in agreement—she liked it.

  “It’s been a long time.” Sam ran his hands down the length of her hair. He leaned in for a kiss, his lips brushing hers. “Too long.”

  She wanted to ask him why he came back, why he didn’t fight hard for her but this wasn’t the time for that. She’d ask him later. Instead, she shoved away those thoughts and embraced the moment, gave herself to him like she’d never before.

  Delilah stepped out of his arms and lay down on the bed, scooting toward the headboard. She put her arms over her head.

  “Tie me up, Sam.”

  She could see desire cloud in his normally sedate blue eyes.

  “Like you used to,” she prodded.

  “And then what?”

  “I assume you brought the new toy to use.”

  He unbuttoned his jeans, shoved them down. She could see his rock hard cock straining against the cotton of his briefs. As much as she wanted him inside her, she wanted it to last a while, too. She reached over to her nightstand, pulled out various colored scarves and tossed them toward him.

  A slow smile crept up the corner of his mouth.

  Kneeling on the bed over her, taking one of the scarves, she could smell his cologne lingering on his skin. Like he’d been wearing it a while but the scent was still there. There were faint undertones of his soap from his morning shower and, even though he’d probably shaved that day, he still had a five o’clock shadow on his cheeks and chin.

  He took his time, tying her to the bed and making sure the knots were secure yet not painful. It took a huge amount of trust for her to let him tie her up. He was the only man she’d ever let go so far with her.

  When he’d finished the second knot, he asked, “How’s that? Not too tight?”

  “Perfect.”

  Like the rest of him.

  Her heart throbbed painfully in her chest and looking down her body at him, she could see the bumps of gooseflesh along her exposed torso. Sam nudged her legs apart with his knee, perching on the mattress between them and looked at her, never taking his eyes off hers. His fingers slipped in the waistband of her skirt and he tugged, gently, pulling the material down her body to reveal her very tiny bikini panties.

  Tossing the skirt on the floor, he paused, looking thoughtfully at her. He started with her left leg, massaging the calf muscle and working his way up.

  “First, I want you to relax.” His voice was dreamy, tempting, dangerous as his fingers worked their way up her leg.

  All the tension whooshed out of her body. She expelled a breath, ragged and heated, letting him take over her senses. Letting him fill her every desire and need and want. Letting him pleasure her with first removing all the pent-up tension and then, later, letting him do things to her she’d not let another man do in ten long, lonely years. She wanted that. She needed that.

  He reached her hip and his fingers paused on the waistband of her panties. Delilah waited for him to remove them, to expose her completely to him, but instead, he merely trailed his fingertips over the cotton…and started massaging his way down her other leg.

  “I see you kept in shape.”

  “Mmm.” It was the only response she could muster.

  She really felt as though she would explode from the center out. Having her hands bound kept her from slipping her fingers between her female lips to feel the slick heat she knew was there. The throbbing between her legs was incessant, begging to be touched, teased, released.

  “Sam.” His name rolled off her tongue in a plea.

  “Not yet.”

  Torture. She knew he was torturing her and she loved every dangerous minute of it.

  Her body wiggled under his hands. Squeezing her butt muscles together, she lifted her pubic bone, rocking it left to right. Instead of giving her what she wanted, Sam gripped her legs, pushed them against the mattress.

  “Behave,” he warned. “Or I’ll tie your legs.” He braced himself above her, the heat from his aroused body radiating over her. “We’re going to take our time.”

  He braced one leg on either side of h
er hip, straddling her and then leaned down. He started his kissing torture with her neck, planting slow soft kisses down the line to her collarbone. Then he moved to her chest, kissing his way down the valley between her breasts, not yet acknowledging the two pointed peaks.

  Sam spent a small amount of time at her bellybutton and then kissed each hip. He planted hot kisses on her sex, burning through the material separating them. Finally his hands were on her, ripping away her panties as though they were made of paper. She lifted her hips toward him, begging with her body for him to take her.

  His mouth met her heated center, his tongue doing those things to her she loved so much. Only Sam could make her come against his mouth. She rocked her hips up and down, a groan of pleasure escaping her and he put more pressure on her clit with his tongue. More tasting, more sucking. Her arms strained against the scarves. Her body bucked under the sheer delight and before she reached her climax…he stopped.

  Delilah whimpered her dissatisfaction.

  “I’m far from done,” he assured her.

  Looking down her naked body, she saw he held the dildo. She opened her legs wider, let him have free access to her innermost depths. He slipped it in her, the cool smooth glass a shock at first. She sucked in a breath and he pulled it back out.

  “More?”

  “Again,” she urged.

  He pushed it into her again and again, the glass warming to her depths. She whimpered, bit her lip, sucked in a breath.

  “More.”

  Again she urged him and he pushed it further into her, moving against her wet core, in and out and driving her to the edge. Her fingers wrapped around the scarves, holding on for dear life as he continued his agonizing and unhurried movements with the glass toy. She moaned, she begged, she panted.

  The hard glass pushed against her deep center, but she knew she would never orgasm that way. She needed him to touch her.

  “Sam…” Her voice was raspy, his name a plea on her lips. “Please.”

  “Please, what?” He continued his assault.

  She writhed against him. “Please touch me.”

  Sam’s other hand landed on the mound of her sex, his thumb glossing over her wet clit while he continued to fuck her with the dildo. She came hard, the bliss washing over her with complete satisfaction. Before she could enjoy the after-effects, though, he put aside the toy, slipped out of his briefs.