Tease Me

by Tracy Wolff

  Too bad the same couldn’t be said for her. “Byron, I swear, I’m running out of oxygen here.”

  “Sssh, I think I’m having an out-of-body experience.” He nuzzled her graceful neck, catching with his tongue the single drop of sweat that was rolling down. “Mmm, salty.”

  “Well, you’re about to have an in-body experience—and a painful one at that—if you don’t move. I would prefer it if you didn’t have to explain to the police or my family how you smothered me against the wall after an incredible bout of sex.”

  “It was pretty great, wasn’t it?” He worked his way up to the delicate shell of her ear. “A little fast, but that can be remedied next time.”

  “Not if every rib I have is broken from this time, it can’t.” Her hands tangled in his hair and tugged. Hard.

  “Ow!” He pulled back, letting Lacey’s feet settle on the wood floor as he gave her a disgruntled look. “That wasn’t nearly as sexy as when you do it while screaming my name.” He rubbed the sore spot.

  “It wasn’t supposed to be sexy,” she answered, shoving at his shoulder so that she could pass. “Just necessary—at least if you’re hoping for an encore.”

  Amazing enough, after his recent orgasm to end all orgasms, his body sprang to life at the mere possibility of getting inside Lacey again, his cock hardening like it had been hours instead of minutes since he’d come inside her.

  What was it about Lacey that touched every part of him? That made him feel good—about his life and the whole freaking world?

  Maybe it was because her fantasies had let him into her head in a way that didn’t happen very often, and he could see how very similar they were. Maybe it was because making love to her seemed like more than just sex. Or maybe it was because she was fucking fantastic—smart and feisty and sexy as hell—and he wanted to see just how far they could take this thing.

  As his thoughts echoed in his head, Byron tried to put the brakes on, tried to tell himself it was way too early for him to be thinking like that—especially since he hadn’t yet told her that he knew about her blog. He wanted to, had even thought about doing so before he’d knocked on her door, but what was he supposed to say? Hey, baby, let’s work on fantasy number twenty-seven tonight? She’d probably kill him. And he wouldn’t blame her.

  Stepping aside so Lacey could pass, Byron trailed her across the living room and down the hall to her bedroom, admiring the sexy sway of her ass with every step she took. “God, you’re beautiful.” The words were out before he’d even known he was going to say them.

  “You don’t have to say that—you already got me into bed.” The look she shot him over her shoulder was amused.

  “Technically”—he grabbed her arm and pulled her toward him—“I haven’t gotten you into bed yet. But with a little encouragement, I’d be more than willing to fix that.”

  “I just bet you would.”

  “Now, see, there you’ve done it.” He advanced on her threateningly.

  “Done what?” she asked, her voice taking on the same breathless note she’d had when he’d been inside her. It sent shivers down his spine even as it turned him rock hard.

  “That sounded suspiciously like a dare.” Picking her up with a grin, he stepped a little closer to her bed and then let her fly. She landed with a startled scream in the middle of her bed, and he immediately lowered himself on top of her, being careful this time to brace most of his weight on his elbows. “I never could resist a dare.”

  “That wasn’t a dare, you idiot! It was a statement of fact.” He took the fact that she hadn’t shoved him off her as encouragement, and bent his head to nibble on her smooth, sexy jaw.

  “Sorry, my mistake,” he whispered in between love bites.

  “Yes, it was.” But even as she said it, she was sliding her legs open so that he could rest between them, and looping her arms around his neck with a crooked smile. “Weren’t we just here?”

  “Not precisely.” He returned her smile with one of his own, happier than he could remember being in a damn long time. Maybe forever. He dropped a kiss on her swollen lips, then traced the smattering of freckles on her nose with his tongue.

  “Eew, gross!” She slapped at him, but was giggling too hard to actually connect.

  He pretended to consider. “Actually, you taste pretty good—not gross at all. And you are beautiful. Completely, totally stunning.” He let his gaze turn serious so she could see that he meant every word. “I thought so the first time I saw you, and time—and lack of distance—has only cemented the opinion.”

  Lacey’s heart stuttered in her chest, and she actually had to turn her head so he wouldn’t see the tears that had cropped up at his words. It had been so long since a man had even told her she was attractive. For Byron to say she was beautiful, and to mean it, meant more than she could ever tell him. Curtis had spent so much of their time together denigrating her, tearing her down one small sliver at a time, that she’d forgotten what is was like to be with someone who actually cared about making her feel good. Who actually cared about her.

  As soon as the thought slipped into her consciousness, she could have kicked herself. One night did not equal caring—even if it was with a totally amazing guy. One who made her feel better, body and soul, than she had in a very long time.

  But thinking that great sex meant he cared about her—or worse, thinking it meant she cared for him—was dangerous territory. And completely not in her game plan. Bad enough that she had broken her celibate-until-emotionally-self-sufficient rule, but to fall for the first guy she’d slept with in nearly two year was more than just plain dumb. It was emotional suicide, and she so wasn’t going to go there. Not ever again.

  “Hey, I didn’t mean to freak you out. It’s not like I was stalking you or anything.” When she still didn’t answer, he continued, “Lacey, are you okay?”

  She came back from her little trip to Nightmare Island to find Byron peering at her anxiously. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

  “Are you sure? You don’t look so good.”

  “It’s just—” She took a deep breath. “I don’t want you to read more into this than there is.”

  He pulled back a little, his eyes simmering despite the smile on his face. “What makes you think I’ve got a different script than you do?”

  “I don’t.” She could feel her cheeks start to burn. “I just want to make sure there’s no misunderstanding.”

  “By all means, then, enlighten me.” His grin grew wider, his eyes warmer, as she fumbled for an explanation.

  “I don’t do things like this often. I’m not—”

  “I never thought you were.” He smoothed a hand down her face. “Is that what you’re worried about? That I don’t want anything but this?”

  “No!” She shoved frantically at his shoulders. “I don’t want more. I don’t want anything from you but this, tonight.”

  His brows drew together, and she felt her stomach clench. “You’re saying you don’t want anything more than a one-night stand? You just want to fuck and move on?”

  “It sounds awful when you say it like that!”

  “Trust me. It sounds a hell of a lot worse when you say it.” Byron rolled off her onto his back, making sure that no part of him touched any part of her. Though the distance was what she wanted, emptiness yawned inside her. Still, she didn’t make any move toward him. He needed to understand, needed to know her boundaries.

  Silence stretched between them for long seconds, and when he finally spoke, his voice was low, controlled. “So, do you want me to leave?”

  “No! That’s not what I meant.” She rolled to her side to face him. “I just want to make sure you understand. I don’t want to get serious.”

  “Who said I was serious?”

  “Nobody!” Her cheeks burned even hotter. “But in case you wanted, you know—”

  “No, I don’t know. I think you’re going to have to spell it out for me.”

  Was he seriously going to make her say it? Lacey
sighed in exasperation and tried to stare him down, but the tense set of his jaw told her he was prepared to be more stubborn than she was.

  “I’m not in the market for a relationship right now.”

  Byron pulled back abruptly, glanced around the purely feminine room. “What exactly does that mean, not in the market?” He seemed to choke a little. “You aren’t married or something, are you?”

  “No! Of course not. I meant that I’m only interested in . . . you know.”

  “Well, thank God for that. You were starting to freak me out.” He reached over, trailed a soft finger down the bridge of her nose. “So, tell me more about this ‘you know.’ ”

  “Byron!”

  “Lacey!” He mimicked, the wicked gleam in his eye telling her better than words that she’d been had.

  “So, you’re okay with this, then?”

  “Okay with what?”

  It was her turn to choke, and his eyes grew darker, more serious. “You seem to be very clear on what you don’t want. But you’re having a hell of a time asking for whatever it is you do want.”

  “That’s not true.”

  “Sure it is.” He rolled over so that she was once again beneath him. Settled his hands on either side of her face and his lean hips between her thighs. It was an unmistakable assertion of dominance, one that should have pissed her off, but instead had her melting.

  He leaned down so that his lips were next to her ear, and her breath caught. He didn’t move for a second. Two. Time seemed to stretch, to become elastic, and with each moment that passed her heart threatened to pound out of her chest. When he finally—finally—licked a path around the sensitive shell of her ear, she arched against him and moaned.

  “Tell me what you want from me, Lacey,” he whispered against her ear. “Tell me what you want me to do and I’ll do it.”

  Fear swept through her at the question, mixed with the desire he was rekindling within her. Had a man ever asked her what she wanted before—in bed or out?

  Did she even know what she wanted?

  As unsure of what to say as she was about her own needs, Lacey finally whispered the only thing she knew for certain: “I want you inside me again. I want to feel you inside me, around me.”

  “Just for tonight?” His fingers tangled in her hair, dragged along her scalp, and electric shocks swept through her.

  “Yes.” She pressed her head more firmly against his magic fingers, nearly purred as he increased the pressure. “No.”

  “Which is it? Yes?” He nipped sharply at her jaw, sent heat careening through her. “Or no?”

  “I don’t know!”

  He tugged at her hair, dragged her lips up to meet his. “Well, you’d better figure it out,” he said through clenched teeth, his mouth taking hers in a brief but ravenous kiss. “Or I’ll end up taking as much as I can.”

  “I want it to be all about the sex.” The words burst from her on a tide of self-preservation.

  “Excuse me?” He pulled back, arched one blond brow.

  “I don’t want to have to worry about hurting your feelings. I don’t want you to have to worry about hurting mine.” Once she got started, the words kept tumbling out. “I want us to be together—like this—whenever it’s convenient, whenever we both want it, but that’s it. No pressure, no relationship. Nothing serious. Just sex.”

  “If we’re both in the mood, great. If we’re not, that’s fine too. No guilt, no expectations. Just . . .”

  “Fun?”

  “Exactly! Just fun!”

  She looked up at him, expecting approval—after all, wasn’t this what all guys wanted?—but his eyes were dark, shuttered. She found herself holding her breath, waiting for him to say something. Anything. But he simply stared at her until she had to fight the urge to squirm.

  Long seconds passed, and when he still didn’t move, she was certain that she’d blown it. Certain that in trying to lay down rules for them, she’d chased him away.

  It’s better that way, she told herself fiercely as she tried to ignore the chill moving through her. Better to know now if he couldn’t handle her speaking up about their relationship—or lack thereof.

  But when he finally spoke, his voice was soft, teasing. “So, are you sure you’re completely recovered from nearly being smothered against the wall? Because I could check you out, you know, just to make sure you’re really all right. We wouldn’t want any injuries to go unrecognized.”

  “Is that all you have to say?” she demanded incredulously.

  “I thought that’s all you wanted me to say.” He reached down, tickled a rib. “Just fun and games, right?”

  Relief swamped her. “Right.”

  “So, about that collision with the wall. Do I need to play doctor?”

  “Oh, well. Maybe you should.” She tightened her arms around his neck, thrilled at his easy acquiescence. When his lips slid tenderly over her cheek to linger at her jaw, then at the hollow of her throat, she even managed to joke, “But, and believe me when I say I’m not trying to criticize your bedside manner, that’s not the part of my anatomy that was in jeopardy.”

  “Just lie back and relax,” he murmured as he swept gentle hands over her body, his touch somehow both soothing and arousing. “I’m very thorough in my examinations.”

  “I bet.” She closed her eyes and let him do his thing, luxuriating in every soft kiss and caress he gave her. And minutes—or was it hours?—later, when he gentled her into a softer, smoother, but no less intense climax, it took all her willpower not to sob at the care he took with her.

  Chapter Eight

  Byron awoke in a conflagration of need. Desire raced through him—hot, greedy, all-consuming, and burning him alive with each touch of its white-hot flame.

  Moving restlessly, he searched for some relief, but any movement he made only made the fire worse. His heart raced. His body throbbed. His lungs begged for air, and his skin felt so tight he thought he would explode. His cock was hard and aching, fully erect, his body spiraling up and out of his control even as he struggled toward full consciousness.

  Awareness came slowly, on the heels of overwhelming obsession and unspeakable pleasure. He was in bed with Lacey and she was stoking the fire inside him, her hands and mouth and body driving him to the point of madness and beyond.

  “Lacey, baby.” His hands fumbled for her as he tried desperately to gain control of the situation, of himself. “Give me a second. Let me—”

  He broke off as she licked a sizzling trail over his painfully full cock. He still ached from the conversation she’d insisted on earlier; her words were sharp little darts that had left bruises that were no less real for their invisibility. But seriously, what were the odds that when he finally found a woman he was interested in, she wouldn’t want anything from him but his ability to make her come?

  Part of him wanted to shove Lacey away at the thought, but as she swirled her tongue around him like he was an ice-cream cone, any prayer he had of slowing her down went up in a searing, scorching blaze.

  “Do it again,” he growled, in a demand he never would have issued if he’d been in his right mind. If he’d had even one iota of control left.

  But she didn’t seem to mind the order, as she did exactly what he said—again and again.

  Quick little licks of her soft, sweet tongue over his dick.

  Longer, deeper swipes that were meant to inflame instead of satisfy, torment instead of soothe. He took it for as long as he could, until he was as close to begging as he had ever been in his adult life, and then he tangled his hands in her hair. Fisted them in the flaming waves and tugged hard enough to get her attention.

  She merely laughed, then circled her tongue around him so slowly he feared he would spontaneously combust. “Lacey!” His voice was harsh, desperate, but she ignored him as she continued to tease. Continued to stoke his desire with light, deliberate touches that had him trembling with the need to bury himself inside her.

  He fought the burn, stru
ggled to hold on to some small semblance of sanity. Tried desperately to stay in control so that he could give Lacey what she wanted, what she needed.

  But when she pulled him into her mouth, one slow inch at a time, his breath slammed out of him in a strangled groan. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go, wasn’t how he’d planned it. He’d wanted to give Lacey her fantasies, to make each and every one of them come true. Instead, she was ripping him apart, giving to him instead of taking. Fulfilling his needs instead of her own.

  He wanted to stop her, planned to stop her. But it felt so good, so incredibly fucking amazing, as she wrapped herself around him that he couldn’t protest. Couldn’t pull away. Couldn’t do anything but lie there and let her pleasure him.

  Which she did—hotter and sweeter than anyone else ever had. Sweat poured off of him as she taunted him, her talented tongue stroking over his balls, his dick, the sensitive spot behind his sac again and again, before she finally took his testicles into her mouth and began to suck.

  At the first sweet suction of her mouth, he nearly came off the fucking bed—and would have if it hadn’t meant that she would stop doing whatever wicked thing she was doing. “Jesus, Lacey.” His voice was hoarse, more animal than human. Lust was a driving force within him as the pleasure threatened to overwhelm him.

  His hands tightened in her hair as every muscle in his body contracted. He fought for control, fought for restraint, but there was nothing for him to hold on to. Only Lacey and the incredible warmth of her mouth as she brought him right up to the edge again and again.

  Once again, his fingers tangled in her glorious hair and he tried to pull her away before he lost it completely, but she was having none of it. She slid her hands beneath him and cupped his ass as she continued to torture him with each stroke of her tongue on the tender skin of his balls. Once, twice, she caressed him, then again and again until the urge to fight her was gone. Until everything was gone except the burning-hot pleasure of her mouth.