Operation Sizzle

by Darcy Lundeen

  “Hot and bothered yet?” he whispered in her ear.

  Betsy tried to frown at him for that snarky comment, but she couldn’t hold a frown. She was too busy biting her lip to keep from crying out as he dipped his fingers inside her, filling her until she felt as if every sensation in her body was concentrated down there, on those few inches of engorged flesh that were home to his questing hand.

  A vague thought that she’d had before flicked through her mind again. He was so good at this, so comfortable with the female body, that maybe he was really bisexual, not completely gay. Not that it made a difference. No matter how it might seem, their relationship was just a surface thing without any genuine emotion involved. His real love interest was Rob, and she would never deliberately interfere with that relationship.

  She sucked in a breath as another thought suddenly intruded. Maybe she was interfering.

  But both thoughts were quickly swept away by the feel of his fingers sliding out of her and resting on her clitoris again, their movement fast and firm, sending a coil of sensation into her belly. Her legs grew rigid. Her whole body stiffened as she waited for what came next.

  “Definitely hot and bothered,” he murmured, his mouth against her hair.

  Again, she would have scowled at him for sounding so damn self-satisfied and sure of himself but, frankly, at that point, she was too far gone to care. All she wanted was release from the incredible way he was tormenting her, then she wanted more of the torment, hours and hours of it.

  He cupped one of her breasts with his free hand, his fingers playing with the nipple the way his other hand was playing with her clitoris.

  That did it. She tensed, every inch of her skin suffused with heat. Closing her eyes, she gritted her teeth as he quickened his movements, and the heat and tightness spread inside of her until it all broke free and the climax rolled through her, sharp and sweet.

  Her legs wobbled as if they were about to give way beneath her, but he supported her, holding her upright as the spasms shook her with wave after wave of sensation. Slumping back against him, she finally caught her breath and opened her eyes again to find him grinning down at her.

  “And that’s the way you’re supposed to be during sex.” He turned her around in his arms. “Physically involved, without a relaxed bone in your body.”

  She made a face at him. “You’re a sadist, you know that?”

  He laughed. “Hey, you didn’t look like you were being tortured.”

  Betsy shrugged. “I’m a good actor.” And without thinking about what she was doing, she pulled his head closer, so close that their mouths were only inches apart. “What about you?”

  It was a bold thing to do, the kind of thing she never did with Tyler or Brad or any of the other men she’d been involved with over the years, but somehow it felt right because, in some sense, this wasn’t real. It was a game they were playing, a fantasy classroom where the rules she’d always followed fell away, and she could be anything she’d ever dreamed of being. More important, it felt damn good, so she went with it, her expression deliberately goading him now that she was satisfied and he wasn’t.

  At least the bulge she felt pressing against her indicated he wasn’t satisfied. His body was as worked up as hers had been a few minutes ago.

  “I never act,” he insisted.

  His voice sounded decidedly tight and his breathing had grown shallower. Definite signs that—oh yeah—he was involved. Way to go, Betsy. “Not the acting part.” She drew his head even closer and deliberately pressed against his swollen shaft. “The part about being physically involved.”

  His expression darkened, then he cupped the back of her head to hold her in place with her face only a few millimeters from his, while his other hand just as firmly cupped her butt, stroking the wet skin there until her desire started to grow again. “A teacher should always be involved in everything he’s teaching.” He smiled as his fingers moved gently against her hair. “So, yes, I’m involved.”

  She lifted her face higher, wanting to admit so many things to him, all her stupid foibles and failings. The shower was so small and enclosed that somehow she felt protected here, safely cocooned, with the constant thrum of water absorbing all outside sound. “My first boyfriend after college said I kissed like a ten-year-old.”

  His fingers dug into her hair, drawing her head closer as he captured her mouth in a kiss that had her pressing her slippery body against his to keep that deliciously thrusting tongue of his from getting away.

  “Your first boyfriend after college was an idiot,” he whispered when he finally broke the contact and lifted his head. “You kiss like a vixen.”

  Betsy licked her lips where the taste of him still lingered. “He left me for a redhead with 44-triple-D breasts.”

  “Her own breasts?”

  Betsy shook her head. “A graduation present from her folks.”

  He laughed, the sound echoing against the tiled walls. “That proves he was an idiot. With breasts that size, she probably fell over a lot when they were together.”

  She smiled because thinking back on it—even on the pain she’d experienced when it happened—suddenly, in retrospect, it was funny. “The only time I ever had an orgasm with a man was once with Tyler. It was such a surprise I started laughing, I was so thrilled.”

  “You don’t laugh now when it happens.”

  Amazing. He was right. “No, I don’t. Now I expect it to happen.”

  “Let’s make it happen again, then.”

  She nodded. “For you, too.”

  “God, I hope so.”

  “Now.” Reveling in her newfound feeling of delight and feminine control, she raised her leg and rubbed her knee up and down his shaft. It had grown huge, and he obviously couldn’t hold on much longer.

  Gritting his teeth, he let out a breathless groan and nodded. “Now.” He picked her up and pressed her against the shower wall.

  The tile was warm and slick against her back, and she braced her hands on his shoulders, holding on tight as she opened her thighs to give him access. His penis pushed against her and she reached between them to guide it inside of her as her legs encircled his waist to hold him there while he stroked into her, deeper and deeper, harder and harder. His eyes were closed and his head was thrown back as water sprayed over him, drenching his hair, running in rivulets down his face.

  His movements weren’t smooth, but they were effective, stimulating her so thoroughly that the sensation rose in her again, the way it had just a few minutes ago, driving out all cogent thought, all conscious awareness that this was wrong. Because somehow, it felt so right, being held here by him, with his body inside her pounding its desire into the deepest, most needy, and receptive parts of her.

  Closing her eyes and throwing her head back, the way he had, she let the heat rage through her as his movements gained speed, urgency. The tightness bloomed inside her. It was about to happen, that wonderful sense of release. And as the thought reached her mind, it did happen, making her vagina spasm around him as he also let go.

  Emptying himself into the condom, he let out a satisfied growl and slumped forward, carefully cradling her against him so he wouldn’t crush her. For a minute, they clung together, drenched and exhausted. He finally roused and pulled out of her, slowly lowering her until she stood on her feet again. “Bed?”

  Betsy was too blissfully drained to answer, so she just nodded, relieved when he obviously got up the energy to do whatever had to be done to get them there.

  Disposing of the condom, he picked her up, carried her out of the shower, and set her on her feet again while he grabbed a towel and slowly dried her off. Then he dried himself before tossing the towel away and swinging her into his arms again. Her hair was still damp as he carried her from the steamy bathroom and laid her in bed. Coming down beside her, he traced his hand slowly along the length of her body. “You get a top grade, you know.” He reached her belly and lingered there.

  Betsy shook her head, trying
to ignore the sexual sensations that his resting hand was already reawakening in her. “Only because I have such a good teacher.”

  He stroked farther south. “Nope, it’s not me. You just have natural talent.”

  She put her hand over his to stop its movement. “Do I? Really?”

  “I already told you. Best I’ve ever seen.” Then he said the magic words. “And because you’ve been such a good student, maybe as a reward it’s time to review lesson two.”

  Smiling, she released his hand. No way was she going to interfere with the movement of those incredible fingers during a lesson-two reprise. “Definitely yes. That sounds like a perfect plan.”

  “Then let’s do it.” Grinning broadly, he reached over and banged on the wall behind the bed. “Hey, Mrs. Lattimer, time to tune in to the X-rated stuff again.”

  Blinking with surprise, Betsy quickly sat up. Oh God, no. She pushed him onto his back, clapping a hand over his mouth. “Don’t,” she ordered in a fierce whisper. “You’ll only get her attention if you do that.”

  His teeth nipped at her palm, and she pulled it away from his mouth, frowning at him as she climbed onto him, straddling his chest to keep him still.

  Grinning at her, he smoothed his hands down her sides and settled them on her rump, slowly massaging her until she squirmed with annoyance. Actually, with arousal, but she had no intention of letting him know that.

  “Sorry, Betsy. We already have her attention. She saw me when I came in. Trust me, she’s back there.”

  She shook her head at him. “Don’t be silly. Even she wouldn’t bother spending her time trying to listen to—”

  There was a sudden bumping sound from behind the wall and something that might have been a muffled sneeze.

  Betsy froze. Okay, so he was right. They obviously did have an unwanted audience only a few feet away.

  Flashing her a victorious, see-I-told-you-so grin, Matt reached over and pulled a condom from her nightstand drawer, where he’d stashed a supply. “Neon purple rubbers today,” he called to the lady in the next apartment, waving the packet at the wall. “They glow in the dark so you can always find my most valuable body part.”

  Betsy bit her lip to keep from laughing, but in the end she couldn’t control it, and the laughter came out in a long, hearty guffaw. “You’re impossible, Pollard.” She brushed tears from her eyes.

  “Got that right, Kincaid,” he countered as he cupped her bottom and rolled over with her, trapping her beneath him.

  Their legs tangled together for a moment, then he pushed away from her, quickly unsheathed the condom from its packet and even more quickly sheathed himself with it. “Okay, lady, here we go. Review of lesson two coming right up.” Catching her beneath him again, he flashed a smile that promised her another night of expert instruction.

  Betsy pressed her head back against the pillow, stomach clenching in anticipation as she waited for the start of lesson two, the glorious lesson where they did it both front and back and then, without even using his hands, he kissed her down there over and over again until she couldn’t hold back any longer and shook uncontrollably with a third delicious climax.

  She looked up at Matt, holding on tightly as he sank himself deep into her and began stroking in and out. Her body pulsed, writhing with desire, but her heart ached with a sudden sadness.

  He was so kind, so funny, so sexy and so damn good in bed. If only he wasn’t gay, she feared that she could fall in love with him. Totally, insanely in love. But he was gay. Even worse, he knew too much about her, all her habits, failings, insecurities, imperfections. And there was one thing she knew with utter certainty. She could never allow herself to love someone who understood her that well. Never.

  Chapter Thirteen

  “Ah, Ms. Kincaid.”

  Betsy froze at the sound of Lorena Lattimer’s voice, positively queasy at the sight of the woman’s face as she stepped out of the elevator that Betsy was about to enter.

  But even worse than her voice and face was that Lorena Lattimer looked totally thrilled with both the world and herself.

  In contrast, Betsy felt totally unthrilled as she waited for something traumatic to happen.

  It did.

  “Good news,” Lorena announced.

  Her gloating smile indicated the news would be anything but, and Betsy discreetly moved the bag of art supplies she was carrying so that it was behind her. If neighbor Lattimer began sniffing around it, her finely honed bloodhound tendencies would immediately tell her it was intended for the building’s resident five-year-old vandal.

  Betsy immediately grasped the elevator door and held it open to keep the car from leaving without her safely inside and out of Mrs. Lattimer’s reach. “Oh. Good news. Well, good news is always, uh, good.”

  Lorena nodded in jubilant agreement. “Indeed, it is. And as one of the signers of our recent petition, I know you’ll be especially pleased to hear it.” She plucked an envelope from her bag and waved it triumphantly at Betsy. “It seems management is taking our concerns seriously. I just received this letter assuring the tenants’ association that they have the matter under consideration and intend to do a thorough on-site inspection.”

  Betsy’s hold on the elevator door went white-knuckled with fear. Yes, it was news, but definitely not good news. “Wonderful,” she lied. “But actually there hasn’t been any vandalism for a while. I mean, I certainly haven’t seen any messes on the walls. Haven’t you noticed that?”

  She smiled hopefully at Lorena Lattimer, who shrugged in answer and stuffed the envelope back in her bag. “I’m sure it’s just a temporary situation. That woman has absolutely no control over her children.”

  Betsy cleared her throat nervously and tried again. “But since things have improved so much, maybe we should—” She broke off when Lorena Lattimer gave her a no, we-definitely-shouldn’t look.

  “Since we have management’s attention and agreement, let’s press our advantage now while the iron is hot, so to speak,” the other woman insisted. “Doesn’t that make the most sense to you?”

  “Sense?” Betsy nodded numbly. “Of course. Sense is good.”

  Lorena’s smile was wide, joyful, and victorious. “I’m glad you agree. The association will be holding another meeting soon to update tenants on the situation. We’ll be sure to notify you about it.”

  “Right. Really looking forward to that,” Betsy mumbled as she backed into the elevator and released her hold on the door.

  It slid shut, and Betsy pressed the twelfth-floor button that would take her to the Donnellys’ apartment, then cautiously pressed her own sixth-floor button, too, in case Lorena Lattimer sneakily checked the floor indicator and realized something was wrong.

  Groaning with disgust at herself, she closed her eyes and leaned her head against the wall as the elevator stopped at her floor, opened its door, paused, closed it again, and proceeded up to twelve. God, was she a wimp, or what?

  Well, of course she was a wimp. She left the elevator and walked to the Donnellys’ apartment, plastering a merry smile on her face. If she wasn’t, she wouldn’t cave in to a nosy biddy like Lorena Lattimer or need sex lessons. And she wouldn’t be smiling this ridiculous smile when she spoke to Iris Donnelly. She’d be completely honest about the problem Iris and her family faced, completely open and aboveboard.

  She rang the Donnelly doorbell and waited, wondering if she should ditch the sunny smile and upbeat attitude and opt for serious instead. But when the door opened, and she saw Iris Donnelly’s impassive face, she knew she had to give the woman hope, so her smile hitched right up there, and she held out her bag of art supplies.

  “Hi. I got this for Evie.”

  “For me?” a tiny voice piped up from behind Iris, and then Evie’s sweet face poked out from around the edge of her mother’s skirt, flashing a grin when she saw Betsy.

  Betsy grinned back. “Hi, artist-lady. Got you something.” She waved the bag. “Art construction paper. Very strong. Also special new
crayons. Washable and everything.” She slid a quick glance at Iris so they could share a smile at the child’s excitement.

  Uh-oh. Iris’s face wasn’t expressionless as she’d first believed. A slight frown worried at the corners of her mouth.

  Betsy felt a nervous shiver, wondering what it meant. “Something wrong? You seem upset.”

  Iris nodded, confirming Betsy’s worst fears. “One of the tenants just told me about the petition to evict us. She said a lot of people signed it. Did you sign it too?”

  Betsy took a deep breath, then sidestepped the question like the coward she was. “Can I come inside, please, so we can talk?” She let the bag go as Evie happily grabbed it from her hand, oblivious to the tension vibrating around her.

  Iris moved away from the door, her voice soft and wearily resigned. “Come in.”

  Betsy couldn’t help herself. The woman looked so despondent that she knew she had to do something, so she gave her a chin-up smile. “Don’t worry. Everything’s going to work out fine.” She went into Iris Donnelly’s apartment, feigning an optimism she didn’t feel.

  ****

  “There’s a problem. I won’t deny it,” Betsy admitted a few minutes later as she sat on the sofa beside Iris, drinking coffee. “But you have to remember one important thing. Every problem has a solution.” Real rah-rah words. Now if only she had a rah-rah solution she could offer, too. “And be assured…” she reached over to squeeze Iris’s hand, “…I’m working on the best way to resolve the situation, and I’ve already come up with some wonderful ideas.”

  It was an overly optimistic assessment of what she was doing, but optimism was always a good thing. Right? Of course, right. And just as long as she could get away from Iris Donnelly before her nose started growing, Pinocchio-style, she’d be fine.

  Iris shook her head helplessly, looking so forlorn that Betsy feared she was about to cry. “I hope there is a solution. Our resources are already stretched almost to the breaking point just paying our current bills. Finding a new place to stay could literally bankrupt us.”