by Lori Foster
Becky drew a breath and forced herself to stop behaving like the backward and inexperienced hick she actually was. “I’m sorry. I’m just … well, I’m obviously not used to being in places like this.”
“Obviously.” George released her and shoved his hands deep into his pants pockets. His coat and suit coat parted over his middle, showing a flat abdomen, a wide chest. His hands pulled his slacks taut, and she noticed other, more interesting things.
He cleared his throat, and Becky jerked her gaze away from his belt buckle and the heavy weight of his sex beneath. Being in a porn shop must have muddled her senses to have her staring at him there like a lecher.
At his leisure, George lounged back against the wall, next to that dark curtain. He wasn’t embarrassed. In fact, he still looked amused as he studied her face in that scrutinizing way of his. “Looking for something in particular, are you?”
At first, she thought he was referring to where she’d just been staring—at his crotch—and her mouth fell open in shock. Then she realized he meant his comment in a more general sense, concerning her visit to the porn shop. Her reaction to that wasn’t much better. Only sheer force of will kept her from running away. “I was just … curious,” she lied.
She wasn’t about to tell him the truth, that she was here to meet a man.
A specific man.
A man with precise sexual predilections, whichwould finally enable her to get rid of her virginity without distress.
“Uh-huh.” George grinned, showing white teeth and a dimple in his cheek.
To Becky’s mind, George was already too handsome for his own good. The dimple was overkill.
Even Erica had made note of him several times, and Becky trusted her opinion since Erica knew a whole lot more about men than she ever would. But Erica had also called George a rogue, a womanizer, even a sex addict.
Becky remembered that Erica had smiled when she’d made those accusations.
Asia, now madly in love with Cameron, had commented on George, too. In fact, Asia had commented on him several times recently, as if she’d been determined to make sure Becky noticed him. Becky shook her head. It wasn’t likely any woman could not notice George, considering he stood so tall and was so dark and emanated such raw sex appeal.
She figured him to be in his late thirties, and judging by his reputation, he’d lived those thirty-odd years to the fullest.
“Cat got your tongue?” George cocked his head to the side. “Or are you considering buying one of those pleasure probes?”
Becky reeled back, scandalized, horrified, embarrassed beyond belief at the mere suggestion. “Of course not!”
George chuckled, but his chuckle dwindled into a warm smile when he looked at her mouth. He kept looking, his expression so fixed Becky began to fidget. “Calm down, Becky. I was just teasing.”
The front door chimed and several more menfrom her workplace wandered in. Becky blanched at the thought of being recognized yet again. “Oh good Lord.”
George glanced at the men. “Don’t want to be seen here, huh?”
Panicked, Becky searched around for a place to hide. “I’d rather not, no.”
“Then I’ll be your white knight.” So saying, George took her upper arm and moved the curtain aside. He stepped into the booth, dragging Becky with him. “We can hide in here until they’re gone.”
The curtain dropped back into place, leaving them in darkness. Becky went utterly still, more aware of George as a man than she’d ever been of any man in her life. Of course, she was sequestered with him in a tiny booth, in the darkness, in a porn shop.
How in the world had she gotten into this predicament?
She and her friends had made the deal—they’d each go to Wild Honey, find a man who shared an interest in her fantasy, and approach him.
The idea had been to get back into the sexual swing of things. Not that Becky had ever been in the swing. She was twenty-five and a blasted virgin, as innocent as a child, without a single speck of experience.
But not for the reasons her friends assumed. Yes, she was shy. Yes, she was moral and believed in love and marriage. But that had nothing to do with why she’d avoided any intimate contact with a man.
The real reason was a shame that ran bonedeep, an … affliction she’d dealt with using avoidance.
Until now.
Her proclaimed fantasy, that of bondage, had everything to do with it. If a man was tied up, well then he couldn’t control anything. Like the lights. She could keep the room black as pitch. She could even blindfold him and there’d be nothing he could do about it. He’d probably even like it.
She’d be able to find out what all the hoopla was about sex, without worrying that he’d see her, or touch her. She’d be able to look at him, to sate herself on his body, to touch him and taste him and yet she’d keep her own appearance, her body, her flaws, private.
He’d never know.
Asia had gone first, and for her things had worked out perfectly, to the point where she was due to marry Cameron soon. Not that Becky expected to get married, not now, not ever. But she was so lonely, so hungry. She wanted to share lovemaking. She wanted to experience mind-blowing sex. She craved so, so much.
All she needed was the right man to indulge her.
Becky drew a breath, trying to reassure herself. Instead she breathed in George’s scent again. It turned her insides to mush.
George moved beside her in the cramped space, and she heard a clink, like the dropping of change, then a small hum. Two seconds later, the booth lit up and a film played on the wall in front of them.
Becky stared. “This is a movie booth?”
“A place to see previews of the different videos before buying one.” George studied her, strangelyalert, as he waited for her reaction. “You pop in a quarter, pick the number of the film you’re interested in, and you get to see a few minutes of it.”
“My, um … what a good idea.”
Becky turned away from George’s scrutiny to watch the movie, and felt the increased acceleration of her heart. Fascination gripped her as the lights flickered and shifted. She saw a well-built man, dressed only in worn jeans, wander into a darkly lit room. The film was poor quality, gritty. But it still held her enthralled.
Beside her, George shifted again, moving behind her, watching the show over her head. He seemed to take up too much space in the small room, with his shoulders that were twice as wide as hers, his body big and solid and hard.
Tension tightened all her muscles, from the movie, from George’s nearness, from the rapid way things were progressing. Becky could smell him again, the delicious scent of cologne and hot male flesh.
The man on-screen moved into a room—where a woman was tied to a bed. Becky started in surprise. Why, this movie was about bondage. Had George chosen it on purpose?
The woman was atop the covers, completely naked. Her legs were held wide apart, secured to the foot posts on the bed with black cords. Her arms stretched out over her head and were also tied. She was vulnerable, fully exposed. She wore a blindfold, and as she sensed the man’s approach, she moaned softly.
Unable to look away, Becky drew a strangled breath—and felt her back touch George’s chest.
She started to jerk forward again, but he settled his hands at either side of her throat, keeping her in place.
“Shhh. If you make too much noise,” he said close to her ear, “they’ll know we’re in here.”
Shaken by the touch of his warm breath in her ear, Becky whispered, “Who?”
“The guys from the factory.”
“Oh.” That’s right. The reason he’d led her into this booth in the first place was to avoid detection by others. “Thank you.”
The man in the movie knelt on the bed beside the naked woman. She squirmed, a little frantic, her bare breasts jiggling with her efforts, rising and falling, but the ropes held her tightly. She couldn’t move more than an inch.
She couldn’t move away from him.
The man trailed his fingertips over her arm, up and down, over her ribs, making the woman twist and moan some more. Slowly, very slowly, he cupped her breast and gently squeezed. Becky’s own breasts tingled, her nipples pulled tight.
George leaned down and this time his warm breath teased her temple. He spoke in a drawing whisper that made her eyelids feel heavy, her insides warm and liquid. “You ever watch a dirty movie, Becky?”
She could barely speak, didn’t dare blink. She shook her head, her gaze fixed on the movie so she wouldn’t miss a thing.
George’s fingers caressed her shoulders, subtly, with encouragement. “I know women,” he whispered, “and you, Becky Harte, like this particular film.”
Was she really so obvious? Did she even care?
“I …” I want to do that to you. Becky knew she couldn’t say that, so she said nothing.
“Some people are turned on by dominating, some by being dominated.”
Becky swallowed hard. “He won’t hurt her?”
“Of course not. That has nothing to do with bondage, or with pleasure.”
George spoke with confidence, making Becky wonder if he had firsthand knowledge of this. “I … I see.”
The man began kissing the woman. His mouth touched her nipples, first softly, then sucking until she cried out. He rasped her with his thumbs, and laughed when she tried to escape him. He kissed her again, licking everywhere, her throat, over her breasts, down her stomach … between her legs.
The woman jumped.
So did Becky.
“Shhh,” George murmured, making Becky shiver in reaction.
The woman arched, but her movements were limited because of her restraints. She cried out, bucked, and bowed but the man stayed with her, his mouth on her, against her sex, his hands holding her hips steady, and seconds later she found her release in a long raw groan that had Becky catching her breath and shaking uncontrollably.
“Becky?”
Feeling almost feverish, Becky wavered, and found herself flush against George’s body.
George had an erection.
On-screen, the woman moaned in soft acceptance. Inside the booth, Becky did the same. She could feel George, long and hard, firmly pressed against her behind. It was a first for her.
Everything today was a first.
“Watch,” George insisted, and Becky could have sworn she felt his mouth touch the rim of her ear. She all but melted into a puddle.
Since she couldn’t seem to draw her attention away from the film, George’s instruction was unnecessary.
From one frame to the next, the setting of the film changed, and now the woman sat astride the man, while it was his arms stretched high and tight, tied to the bedposts. His head was tipped back, his chest muscles starkly defined as the woman rode him hard and fast.
Becky breathed too hard in reaction. This was what she wanted. Oh, she wanted it so much. The man in the movie wasn’t blindfolded, and he wasn’t nearly as appealing as George. But Becky could pretend he was. She could pretend that he’d take his pleasure with her, and not be able to see her, not be able to touch her.
Suddenly the woman’s mouth opened on a scream and Becky knew it was a scream of pure excitement. The woman shuddered, climaxed … and Becky felt George’s hand slip around her to settle beneath her left breast. His fingers were hot, long, curving on her rib cage. His hair brushed her cheek, cool and silky. His heart rapped against her back.
Awareness and need held Becky perfectly still so George wouldn’t stop touching her.
“Your heart is racing, Becky.”
This time she knew for certain his mouth touched her. He placed a gentle kiss on her temple—and the film died.
Neither of them moved. The sound of herbreathing filled the small booth. Becky had no idea what to do or what to say, so she did nothing. George’s big hand was still on her, beneath her coat, right below her breast, not moving, just resting there, warm and sure and confident.
“I think I know what section you were looking for, Becky.”
In that moment, more than anything, Becky wanted him to touch her breast. It was insane, but she craved his touch. “You … you do?”
“Oh yeah. You want some restraints, don’t you, sweetheart?”
He’d called her sweetheart. “Um …” Should she just blurt it out? How did a woman go about telling a man she’d like to tie him to her bed? And she did want to do that.
With George.
Becky was now very glad she’d run into him, and not some other man. This small incident felt right in a way she knew it wouldn’t have been with anyone else. She’d been wanting George for a long time, so now was her chance.
It was possible that he’d chosen that particular film because he was into bondage, and wanted her to know it. Becky found it hard to imagine that George—sexy, gorgeous, experienced George—would be willing to leave himself at her mercy. But the idea was a very tempting one.
The pros and cons of having sex with a man she worked with winged through her head in rapid order. But before she could find the right thing to say, George moved the curtain aside. “C’mon. I’ll help you.”
Again, Becky found herself being led by him. He drew her to the back of the store toward another isolated room. Along the way, Becky looked around at all the amazing contraptions. One particular item caught her interest and she turned her head to stare.
Beside her, George paused. With his dark gaze on her face, he said, “It’s for female pleasure. Most of the stuff in here is geared for women.”
“Really?”
At her surprise, George narrowed his eyes. “It’s not always as easy for a woman to climax as it is for a man.”
He spoke so casually that Becky blinked, still looking at the small contraption and trying to figure it out. There were so many things in the shop that seemed to require an instruction manual. “I see.”
“Do you?” When she didn’t answer, he expounded on his explanations. “Just having a man inside a woman doesn’t always do it for her. She needs to be touched other ways, other places.”
Becky opened her mouth, but nothing came out. She tilted her head, studying the ridiculous device, but still it didn’t quite make sense how it would work.
George made an impatient sound. “You can’t be that naive.”
Becky turned to stare up at him.
He ran a hand over his head, further mussing his hair. Then, to her horror, he snatched up the device and held it in front of her. “See this opening? It fits over a man’s cock. When he rides a woman, this part right here strokes her where she’s most sensitive. Because it vibrates, if he goes deep inside and just holds still, it’ll work too.”
Becky was floored by this outpouring of sexualinstruction. George didn’t seem the least bit shy about discussing things with her. It was astonishing and embarrassing and very educational.
She wasn’t sure if she should thank him or not.
When she remained silent, he frowned. “Becky, do you understand?”
“Yes, I think so.”
“You think so?”
Her curiosity overrode her shyness. “Have you ever …? You know.”
“What?” He waved the thing under her nose, then tossed it back on the shelf. “Worn one of those? No way. I don’t need them.” He looked at her mouth and his dark eyes glittered. “Any man worth his salt knows how to make a woman come without all these gizmos.”
Ohmigosh, ohmigosh. Becky gulped. Would he illustrate that for her, too? She sort of hoped so.
His gaze moved down her body, to her lap. “Remember the guy in the video? There are better ways to ensure a woman’s satisfaction.”
There it was, his explanation and that look that felt like a physical touch, given with his blatant suggestion that he enjoyed kissing a woman … there, and Becky’s knees went weak. She caught the shelf for support, refusing to crumble in front of him, even over the idea of oral sex.
Trying to sound as cavalier as Georg
e, she changed the subject. “It was designed by a doctor.”
He smiled. “Yeah.”
“Wouldn’t you think most doctors had medical emergencies or something to occupy their time?”
This time George laughed outright. “Amazing.”
“What’s amazing?”
He didn’t explain, he just took her hand andfinished leading her to the other room. Becky looked around in awe. Velvet-lined handcuffs, dark blindfolds, satin ropes and restraints of every style and extreme decorated the walls, some even hanging from the ceiling. “Oh my.”
George crossed his arms over his chest. “Did you bring your charge card?”
“No.” She didn’t want any legal documentation from her trip here. “But I brought plenty of cash.”
Looking very pleased, George said, “Then allow me to guide you through a few purchases. And, Becky?”
“Hmm?”
“When we’re through, we’ll set a date to get together.”
Becky whipped around to face him. “A date?”
“Oh yeah.” He touched her cheek and tucked her hair behind her ear. “You see, Becky, we’re of a similar mind. And I think we’ll get along real well, don’t you?”
Chapter Two
George watched that intriguing color darken Becky Harte’s soft cheeks again. God, but he loved the way the woman blushed. Since he was still touching her, he even felt the heat Would she flush all over like that when he had her securely bound to his bed, naked and hungry and waiting for him to give her a screaming orgasm?
He had a feeling she would, and he could hardly wait.
What a little fraud she was. He’d worked at the factory as a supervisor for two years now. In that time, he’d gotten to know Becky well. Or so he’d thought. She was very young—too young he’d sometimes thought And though at twenty-five she should have had her share of experience, Becky still had “sweet and innocent” stamped all over her in a way that made a man’s primal instincts go on red-hot alert.
From her big blue eyes, to her bouncing blond curls, to her sweet small-town accent, she exuded artless naïveté. She was the type of woman who—he’d thought—would want to get married if she got intimate with a man.