by Rosie Danan
Clara blushed. “I guess you could say our business is pleasure.”
As soon as they got home, Josh was going to lock himself in his bedroom and journal until his hand fell off.
chapter nineteen
CLARA HAD INTENTIONALLY put on the least sexy sleepwear she owned in an effort to smother the inferno of her libido. Even though she normally wore cozy, rather than alluring, sleep sets, this evening she’d gone so far as to wear a pair of extra-large men’s pajamas she’d ordered by accident last Christmas. She looked ridiculous, like the ghost of her great-grandfather had spit plaid all over her, but she didn’t care. At least these pj’s didn’t antagonize her carnal thoughts.
For the umpteenth time in the last hour, her eyes jumped from her computer screen on the coffee table to Josh’s closed bedroom door. Behind that thin strip of wood, she knew he was writing X-rated fantasies. All the moisture in her mouth relocated below her waist.
Going to that sex shop was a mistake. Watching Josh select items for their project with authority and expertise fired off a thousand pleasure sensors in her brain. She tugged her top away from her heated skin. Cotton wasn’t as breathable as the manufacturers claimed.
In order to complete her to-do list for the evening, she needed to secure a domain name. Unfortunately, she, Josh, and Naomi still hadn’t agreed on what to call the project. LadyBoners.com and Orgasms4All .org, Josh’s latest suggestions, didn’t exactly roll off the tongue.
The man of the hour opened his door. “Hey.” He had a worn black notebook in his hands.
“Hi.” Clara crossed her legs. “How’s it going in there?”
“It’s going all right.” He pointed the open notebook in her direction and fanned through several pages full of his dark, spiky handwriting. “Once I got started it turned out I had a lot to say.”
Clara swallowed hard. “I can imagine.” So many things. A million Josh fantasies played on loop in her mind. She needed some kind of anti-libido medication. Or a therapist. Probably both.
Josh descended onto the sofa beside her. Close enough for her to feel the heat rolling off his body. She gritted her teeth to keep from inhaling his scent.
“The trouble is, I can’t tell if any of it is good or if I’m dribbling garbage across the page.”
“Do you want me to take a look?”
“Actually, I was thinking maybe I could read it to you?” His voice held a hint of insecurity. “Since it’s supposed to be delivered as narration.” Josh ruffled the fluff of curls in front of his eyes. “Unless that’s weird? Since it’s sexy. I could always call Naomi.”
“No.” She shoved her computer under the coffee table and faced Josh with her legs tucked together in front of her. “I can listen.”
“Oh, okay. Great. So it’s a part of the introductory series. For partners who are getting to know each other sexually and figuring out what works. I thought that rather than diving right in, the woman, the performer in our case, could show her partner how she pleasures herself. Help them get a sense of where she likes to be touched and with how much pressure.”
“That sounds smart.” Clara forced herself to look away from his mouth. Damn it. She wanted him bad.
“Okay. I’ll start then?”
“No time like the present.” She steeled herself. No one ever died from an overdose of desire.
“Begin by helping your partner get in the mood.” Josh altered his pronunciation slightly so that his syllables came out with more authority than his average speaking voice. He poured the magic of his charisma across the innocent words, making them smoky and tempting. “Ask her to describe one of her favorite fantasies. As she gets comfortable, encourage her to touch the parts of her body that become stimulated by the story.”
Josh lowered the notebook as Clara ran her hand up and down her thigh. “What do you think of that exercise? Heather, one of Naomi’s friends from Cal State who’s a certified sex therapist, suggested it.”
Her tongue felt big in her mouth. “I think it’s good. And the tone you’re using, deep and slow. That’s good too. It’s sexy but not over the top.”
The corner of Josh’s mouth kicked up. “Thanks.” One of his reckless curls fell in front of his eye and Clara fisted her hands in her pajama pants to keep from reaching out and running the glossy strands between her fingers.
He flipped a few pages in his notebook. “So then I mapped out some blocking for the performer, though I think we can give her a lot of creative freedom to explore her own desires. The idea would be that we explore several erogenous zones starting with the mouth, ears, and throat, and then make our way down her body, lingering at her breasts.”
“Wow.” Her body burned for his touch in each of the places he’d mentioned.
“Oh, good call.” He scribbled the word collarbone in his notebook and Clara realized she’d begun tracing her clavicle with two fingers, imagining his mouth. She hastily shoved her hand under her butt.
“I think a lot of men write nipple stimulation off because they don’t know the right way to do it. Women often spend more time exploring that area on their own bodies than their partners do.”
Clara’s breasts grew tighter as each word slipped from his perfect lips. She raised her eyes to see Josh running a hand over his mouth as he stared at her chest.
“We could try it,” he said. “The exercise. If you wanted to. It’s normal to be overstimulated when you first take up pleasure as a profession. When I got into the business my dick practically fell off from all the solo sessions I needed to take the edge off.”
“I have noticed an increase in my sexual . . . appetite.” A drop of sweat slipped between her breasts. “I suppose, in a sense, we have an obligation as the creative leads to make sure what we’re suggesting works.” Her heartbeat kicked into an alarming staccato. “We wouldn’t want to show up on set, with the performers we’re paying, and waste their time on something that hasn’t gone through careful vetting.”
His eyes burned, an expression of hunger unlike anything she’d ever seen. “Right. It’s not like we’d be having sex.”
“No,” Clara agreed around a heaving breath. “Definitely not sex.”
“It’s masturbation.” He shifted in his seat. “Perfectly normal. And you said earlier you’ve been worked up lately.”
Clara bobbed her head. The massive bulge in his pants made her lips part. A thousand alarms rang in her ears, warning her of their crumbling boundaries, as her hands strayed to the hem of her top. “I really have.”
“I bet if you touched yourself—relieved that distraction—you’d be a lot more focused on your work. Both for Jill and on the project.”
An excellent point. “And a relaxed mind is more creative.”
Josh positioned the notebook in front of his lap. “I’m always reading about the long-term health benefits of regular orgasms.”
Her fingers stilled. “You are?”
“Sure.”
“So I would, what . . . take off my shirt and touch my breasts?” That sounded like the kind of thing a self-possessed, sexually liberated, hot person might do.
Josh cleared his throat. “That sounds like a good start.”
A combination of nerves and blistering arousal brought goose bumps to her arms. “I can do that?” The words came out as a question.
His molten eyes devoured her mouth. “I think you should.”
Clara willed her body into action. “I can’t seem to make my arms move.” How dare her limbs betray her? “Sorry. I don’t even like being naked by myself,” she said. “Let alone with an audience.”
“What’s wrong with being naked?”
A sad sigh climbed out of her mouth. “Well, nothing if you look like you. But when I’m naked, it’s all soft and everything wobbles.” She leaned forward to hide her curves.
Josh shook his head. “Those are the best pa
rts.” He rolled up the sleeves of his henley. “Would it change anything if I told you how attractive I find you?”
“What?” Clara’s attempts at playing it cool went up in smoke.
“Would it help if I outlined how I find you sexy? Objectively speaking, obviously.” He showed her another page in his notebook. “It’s one of the partner tips. If the woman you’re with is feeling nervous or having trouble conjuring up a fantasy, stating your desire for her can help set the tone for the session.”
Clara’s mind went blank. “Okay. Yeah, let’s try that.”
Josh took his time looking at her, starting at the top of her head and making his way down to her sock-covered feet.
She held still as he drew his gaze across her body.
“Well, there’s a lot of good stuff going on,” he said so quietly she almost didn’t catch it. “There’s the obvious stuff that I notice when you enter a room.” He started counting things off on his fingers. “Your hair is nice. All shiny and inky. And you’re always tossing it around. So I get big whiffs of your shampoo when we’re sitting on the couch whether I want to or not. And then there are your breasts, of course. God, your tits are torture. The way you insist on hiding them in those ridiculous high-necked shirts. Why are you doing that? They deserve to experience fresh air. It’s summer in Los Angeles, for crying out loud.” He rubbed his jawline as if it pained him. “I think I’ve imagined twenty different ways to rip your top off. Just so I can get a look at them.”
They’d barely begun and already Clara’s breath was coming too fast. She might faint.
“But the stuff that really drives me crazy is subtler,” he continued. “The way your skin feels when I help you out of the car and how you kinda glow in the face region. I also like that thing you do where you arch your back when you’re stretching in the morning. Oh, and the tiny mole at the top of your lip. Like an X marking treasure.”
He brought his thumb up to brush the thin skin.
Clara’s eyelids grew heavy. Yearning filled her throat, making it difficult to breathe. Had anyone ever said so many nice things about her in one sitting? Sure, they were superficial, but they were also sweet. Hearing Josh admire her body somehow made up for every guy in middle school who had called her chubby or made fun of her big teeth.
She couldn’t fight the sudden, overwhelming desire to open her mouth. When she indulged the instinct, Josh let his finger slip between her lips. Clara couldn’t help herself. She dragged her tongue across the rough pad of his thumb, tasting salt, as he closed his eyes and groaned.
“Show me what you like,” he said, eyes still closed. It was a request and a command and a plea all at the same time.
And suddenly she needed to. It didn’t matter if she liked every part of her body. What mattered were Josh’s words and the way they elevated her to a position both wanton and powerful. He’d handed her the opportunity to blow on the spark of desire behind his eyes until it blazed. She’d be a fool not to take it.
Before she could lose her nerve again, she moved her legs behind her so she could sit back on her heels. “This is professional, right? We’re doing this for the good of the project?”
Josh breathed slow and even through his nose, holding himself rigid. “Yes. Absolutely. We’re working right now.” His eyes were practically all pupil.
Clara thanked her lucky stars that Josh was a master performer. Who cared if he was pretending to want her right now? It felt impossibly real.
She relaxed her shoulders as his confirmation washed over her. They’d explicitly agreed that whatever happened next didn’t mean she had feelings for Josh. Wanting him, she could handle. But anything deeper . . . anything more with Josh was impossible. Unacceptable. A recipe for a broken heart.
But she could still indulge one of her fantasies. Just a single, harmless confession. For the greater good.
She peeled off her top in one fluid motion. Thankfully the material didn’t get caught around her elbows.
The overhead fan blew cool air against newly exposed skin. Of course, the bra she’d chosen today was too small. Her breasts spilled over the top of the unadorned cream fabric.
Josh moaned like someone had stabbed him with a dull knife. “I’m burning every single one of those fucking sleeveless turtlenecks. How the fuck are they better than I imagined?”
Clara ducked her head and laughed a little at that. A throaty purr that sounded like someone else but felt good in her throat. “Bra next?” She needed guidance, but she also liked the idea that announcing her progress would drive Josh wild.
Sure enough, when she met his eyes he shuddered like a man enjoying the electric chair.
“Do you want me to stop?” She feigned a tone of concern.
He gave her his most charming smile in reassurance, dimples in full effect. “Don’t you dare.”
Clara got up and turned around so that her back faced him, hoping that not having to make direct eye contact would make removing her bra, a significantly larger hurdle to her insecurity, a little easier. She bent slightly forward and reached back to unclip it, fumbling with the clasp.
“Let me help you.” As Josh deftly undid the hook, more of her reservations melted away.
He let the back of his fingers brush along her spine as he removed his hand. “If you refuse to turn around, there’s a good chance I’ll spontaneously combust.” His breathing was no longer slow and even. It sounded like he was trying to climb a flight of stairs while carrying a wheelbarrow.
Clara swiveled, forcing her body not to obey the impulse to cover herself as Josh licked his lips, staring unabashedly at her chest.
He hissed in a breath. “What I’m about to say is gonna sound like a line. But please believe me when I tell you that I’ve seen thousands of tits in my lifetime and I’ve never wanted to get my hands and my mouth and, if I’m being totally honest, my cock, on a pair as much as yours.”
Clara’s face warmed at the ridiculous praise. “No one in their right mind would ever think that was a viable line.” Still, she lowered her shoulder blades, pushing her breasts further out, and cupped one in each hand until the heavy flesh spilled over her fingers. See. This barely counts as second base. Equating adolescent baseball metaphors to levels of intimacy was oddly soothing. Josh’s talent was almost enough to make her brazen. She let her thumbs graze her nipples, feeling the rush of pleasure even that small gesture sent down through her belly to her clit. She hadn’t touched herself like this in a while, and half the time she was so embarrassed about the size of her breasts that she pretended they didn’t exist.
“Okay. So, umm . . . In my fantasy, I’m on a beach somewhere.” She glanced at him. With you. “And the sun is warming my skin.” Her eyes consumed the wide slabs of his shoulders. And you’re naked. “I’m sunbathing topless.” Josh drew his hands into fists. Because I wanted to tease you.
The attention she gave her breasts, starting slow and varying the pressure, made her want to writhe. She’d forgotten the way the pleasure could build, more complete than when she started below the belt. Clara closed her eyes and threw back her head until the long strands of her hair brushed the middle of her back.
“The knowledge that you love having your tits played with has taken at least five years off my life.” The raw lust in his voice made her melt.
Clara hadn’t accounted for Josh’s dirty talk when she agreed to this plan. How his words made everything more exciting and urgent and deliciously undignified.
She opened her eyes to find him wrestling with control. He moved until he was facing her on the couch, every inch of his long, lean form bent forward in anticipation. She let her eyes wander between his legs and pinched her nipples hard between her thumb and forefinger. The bulge in his pants was truly obscene. He seemed unaware that he’d begun to subtly rock his hips.
“You should take that out,” she said, and then immediately covered he
r mouth with her hand.
Josh froze. “Huh?”
Clara removed her fingers from her lips slowly. “Your . . . cock.” She wrapped her mouth around the word he’d used earlier. “You should take it out and touch yourself. If you’d like.” She ducked her head. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. I got carried away.”
“Are you fucking kidding me?” Josh tore off his T-shirt, treating her to a view of his abs rippling as he raised his arms. He pulled his pants and briefs down his legs so fast she’d barely blinked before he had his hand wrapped around himself.
“Oh my God.” Her voice shook as the temperature in the room blazed. “It’s like someone gave a Caravaggio painting a gym membership.”
Josh stilled his hand around the base of his thick shaft. “Is that . . . good?”
“Yes.” It was so much more than good. The screen of her computer really hadn’t done him justice. No wonder he was mad about losing all those merchandise dollars. Women across America had probably emptied their 401(k)s for a silicone simulation of the heat Josh was packing.
“Are you going to . . .” He nodded toward her still pajama-clad thighs. “You have no idea how much I want to see you right now.”
Clara would have traded anything to get Josh to keep looking at her exactly like that, so she pushed the rest of her clothes down and off.
“Fuck. Me,” Josh said when she was bare before him. He stopped moving. In fact, she wasn’t sure he hadn’t stopped breathing. “Please touch your pussy. Please. I know I’m begging. I know it’s not macho or suave or cool. But please, Clara. I’m losing my mind.” Josh ground out the words in an aching voice.
Blind lust gave her the confidence to bring her trembling hand to her stomach, to let her fingers slowly slide between her thighs. The moment her hand made contact with her sex, she and Josh both swore.
He moved closer until each of his harsh breaths fell against her neck.
She whimpered as her hips bucked, seeking penetration. Begging for the man beside her.