Truth Or Dare

by Lori Foster

  “Yes.” Becky felt him shift and came to a starding realization—he still had an erection. And he felt bigger than seven and a half inches to her.

  Eyes agog, she said, “You’re still hard.”

  He looked pained. “Yeah. Believe me, I know. And as long as you’re talking about bondage, or sitting in my lap, or … hell, just breathing, I’m probably going to stay hard.”

  Fascinating. “Will you stay like that for long?”

  His mouth curled with suggestion. “As long as I need to.”

  “Oh.” She shivered at that dark promise. “Oh no, I meant tonight, after you leave here.” And then a horrible, awful thought occurred to her and she frowned at him, outraged. “You’re not going to be with another woman tonight, are you?”

  George pulled her down for a ravenous kiss. When he lifted his head, his voice was raspy and deep. “I want you, Becky, not anyone else. Until we’re through with each other, we’ll both keep it exclusive, agreed?”

  Relief washed over her. “Yes.”

  He dropped his head to her chest “Thank God. Now, I have to go because if I don’t I’m going to lose control.” He lifted his face to smile at her.

  Becky, taking the hint, scrambled off his lap and stood in front of him. He came to his feet as well.

  He cupped her head between his big hands and kissed her nose, her chin. Against her lips, he asked, “Will you think about me again tonight, babe? About what we’ll do?”

  “Yes.” She’d think and dream and fantasize and plan.

  George stepped away. “Until tomorrow, then.”

  It was raining when he left, a cold miserable rain, but inside her lonely apartment, Becky burned. She went to the couch, picked up the handcuffs, and began figuring out how she’d get them on him.

  At least she had a four-poster bed, just like in the video. She was certain that was going to be a big help.

  Chapter Four

  George waited outside the women’s rest room for Becky to emerge. He’d been so damn busy all day in meetings he’d scarcely seen her at all. But this was her last break of the day, and they’d both be getting off work in two hours.

  He was so keyed up, so tense and impatient, he’d had to fight to concentrate on his work instead of on sexual thoughts. But always there in the back of his mind was the tempting picture of Becky submitting to his will, bound for his pleasure—and hers.

  George locked his knees and concentrated on not getting hard. Damn, he couldn’t wait to explore her body, to sate himself on her. He felt like a kid again, ready to get laid for the first time.

  But it was more than that, too. He’d really enjoyed himself yesterday; chatting with her was always a pleasure because Becky was so unique, so different from most of the women he knew. But getting to know her more intimately, getting a few clues to her secrets, had been exciting in a way he hadn’t expected.

  The door swung open and Becky, Asia, and Erica walked out. Becky was carrying a wooden ruler, of all things, and Erica was laughing, Asia shaking her head. Becky fell silent when she saw him, and she nearly tripped over her own feet. Not so with Erica.

  She moseyed right up to him, patted his chest, and said, “You stud, you! I’m so impressed.”

  George had no idea what had brought that on, but obviously whatever professionalism had existed between them on the job was now gone. He pushed away from the wall and grinned. “That’s Supervisor Stud to you, Ms. Lee.”

  In the next instant, Becky swept past them, nearly knocking him down in her haste. Erica leaned forward and said, “Now you did it.”

  “What did I do?” He watched Becky’s fast retreat.

  Asia scowled at both of them. “You know she’s shy. You should quit baiting her by flirting.”

  Erica shrugged. “If I wasn’t flirting, what would I do?”

  George saluted them both and took off after Becky. He caught her at the soda machine. She’d just popped the top on a Coke when he rounded the corner. She didn’t know he was watching and she tipped up the can and guzzled it all in nearly one long gulp. Afterward she fell back against the machine, put the back of her hand to her mouth, and burped.

  George laughed. He had a feeling the way she’d guzzled that Coke was her rendition of tying one on. “Have I driven you to drink already?”

  Becky slanted him a narrow-eyed look. “What do you want?”

  “You.”

  Her mouth opened, then closed. Her eyes glittered in her pique. “Oh. And here I thought you might want Erica instead.”

  He’d never heard that particular nasty tone from Becky before. It was all he could do to hold back his grin. “No way. Erica scares me.” He inched closer.

  “Yeah, I can see you shaking.”

  “I’m a man. Men don’t shake no matter how terrified we are.”

  Becky rolled her eyes. “Yeah, well, Erica might be scary, but she’s also plenty knowledgeable about men.” She smacked him in the chest with the wooden ruler. “She said seven and a half inches is not average. You lied to me.”

  George rocked back on his heels, and to his chagrin, he felt himself going hot. Jesus, he hadn’t blushed since he’d been a green teenager. “You told her what I said?”

  “Well yeah. I mean, look at that!” She held up the ruler, marked by her thumb at exactly seven and a half inches. “I was … worried.”

  George looked around, and thankfully, the hall was empty. “Worried about what, damn it?”

  “Fit.”

  “Fit?”

  Looking equally embarrassed and mulish, Becky said, “I don’t think you’ll fit.”

  George no longer cared if anyone was around. He caught her shoulders and backed her into the machine. Against her mouth, he said, “I’ll fit, Becky, believe me. I’ll make sure you’re nice and wet first, so no matter how snug it is, it’ll feel great for both of us.” He kissed her open mouth beforeshe could say anything. “Two more hours, Becky. Two hours that’ll feel like a week. Don’t back out on me now.”

  Her eyes glazed over. He loved how quickly she reacted to him. Taking advantage of that, George cupped her breast, teased her nipple. It stiffened against his thumb. “Tell me you want me there, Becky. Tell me you haven’t changed your mind.”

  “I want you there.” The words were whispered and then she was kissing him, holding him tight, accidentally prodding him in the back with the stupid ruler still held in her fist.

  Luckily George wasn’t so far gone that he’d totally lost track of their surroundings. He stepped away from her just as two other employees started around the corner. He caught Becky’s hand and dragged her along in his wake. “Six o’clock, Becky. Be ready for me.”

  “George.”

  “What?” He kept walking, refusing to let her back down on him now because of some ridiculous anxiety over his size. Hell, he’d thought she’d be turned on, as most women were, or he never would have told her a damn thing. At thirty-seven, he felt no need to brag about his endowments.

  He shook his head. When Becky found out he was actually bigger than that, that he’d shortened the dimension out of modesty, well, he could only imagine her reaction.

  He wondered again at her lack of experience, but it was far too late for him to change his mind.

  “You’re dragging me in the wrong direction.”

  George stopped and struggled for breath. It was unheard of, the way she affected him. “Right.” He looked up and down the deserted hall. “Give meanother kiss to tide me over then, and I’ll let you get back to your work.”

  Becky grinned. She went on tiptoe, kissed his chin, his jaw, and finally his mouth. “Six o’clock.” And teasing him as Erica had, she added, “Stud,” and tapped his chest with the damned ruler.

  George watched the sexy sway of her backside as she walked away from him. Before his very eyes, Becky’s inhibitions were wearing away. He’d done that to her, he realized, and she was sexier for it. Very sexy.

  He had to stake a claim before every cursed male in
the factory noticed. When the night was over, Becky wouldn’t have a shy bone left in her sumptuous little body.

  And she’d be telling him that they were a perfect fit.

  In more ways than one.

  He showed up twenty minutes early. Becky was in the process of attaching the hand- and footcuffs to the bedposts, thinking that it would be less awkward that way than trying to set things up once they were … in business. She hid the handcuffs with the bed pillows, the footcuffs with the turneddown sheet. Her hands shook, her heart pounded, and her stomach felt very funny, sort of fluttery and tight and tingly.

  She was going to have sex. And not with just any guy, but with George.

  She closed her eyes and held her hands to her belly, trying to calm the stirring there.

  The bed was all prepared, she decided. She’d drawn the drapes to leave the room dark. And onthe nightstand—on her nightstand—was a condom and the blindfold. She felt faint with expectation.

  When the knock sounded on her front door, she actually jumped and let out a small screech. Heavens, she was nervous. And eager. And excited.

  She rushed from the room, but forced herself to slow, to take two deep breaths so George wouldn’t know how anxious she was. She’d dressed in a button-down sweater and a long casual corduroy skirt. The sweater would be easy to remove, the skirt easy to lift. She’d left off pantyhose and instead wore lacy ankle socks—again, because they’d be easy to take off.

  Her door rattled with another heavy knock and Becky peered through the peephole. George stood there, tall and dark and so handsome her toes curled inside her slip-on shoes.

  She turned the locks, braced herself, and opened the door.

  Trying to sound calm and cavalier when she was anything but, she said, “Hello, George—umpf!”

  In one movement, he stepped in and scooped her up, then kicked the door shut. Held high against his chest, Becky had no choice but to grab hold of his shoulders and hang on. “George!”

  His arms were trembling, his dark eyes piercing and hot He leaned forward, nuzzled her hair, kissed her ear, gently bit her neck.

  Becky jumped again, unprepared for such an onslaught of sensual attention. She had thought they’d … talk. That they’d …

  “Where’s your bedroom?” His voice was an aching rasp that curled through her on a wave ofheat. Urgency beat inside her, matching the tempo of her suddenly racing pulse.

  “My bedroom?”

  “God almighty, Becky, I can’t wait another single second.” He strode forward though he obviously had no idea which room was hers. “Forget the movie. Forget the damn pizza.” He peered into her bathroom and kept going, peered into the small guest room she used as a den. “Where is your bedroom?”

  Becky lifted one limp arm and pointed to the last door in her small hall. Two seconds later George stepped into the room. This door he left open, which allowed the hall light to spill in. Becky wanted to protest but when he reached the bed, he dropped her. Her shoes fell off and tumbled to the floor.

  Trying to ground herself, to get her bearings, Becky started to rise up on one elbow. She never made it. George threw off his coat, came down on top of her and started kissing her again, touching her, moving against her.

  It was something of a shock, feeling a man lying on top of her, all heavy and hot, hard and lean. It took her a single heartbeat to realize it was also wonderful and Becky squirmed, better aligning their bodies. He caught her hips and held her still. His mouth traveled from hers to her throat to her chest.

  She yelped when he nuzzled her breast through her sweater.

  “George.” She didn’t mean to, but her body arched in reaction.

  He grappled with her buttons, finally just shoving the sweater down so it caught beneath herbreasts. With an expert hand, he released the front catch on her bra and the cups parted.

  Breathing hard, George reared back to look at her. His cheekbones were dark with color, his eyes glittering and intent. “Damn.” He cupped her breasts in both hands, stroked her nipples with his thumbs, caught and held them, tugged. Her nipples felt achingly sensitive, and his touch jolted through her.

  Never in her life had Becky expected so much sensation from such a simple caress. A raw moan escaped her, and then another when he bent and sucked her right nipple deep into his mouth. She clasped his head and held him to her.

  Wonderful. Beyond wonderful. She was lost in feelings too exquisite to describe when his hand went beneath her skirt, up the outside of her left thigh.

  Becky panicked. “No.”

  George stilled. He lifted his head to look at her. Confusion warred with the lust and other emotions that Becky couldn’t decipher.

  She tried a smile, tried to remember everything she’d planned. Voice shaking, she touched his chest and said, “This is my show, George, remember? You were going to … indulge me.”

  His gaze went from her face to her naked breasts. He breathed hard, closed his eyes for a long moment. When he opened them again, some of that devastating emotion was banked. “Right.”

  Gently, Becky pressed against his chest until he fell to his back. Still struggling for breath, he put one arm over his eyes.

  Becky slid on top of him, liking that position almost as much as being beneath him. A distractionwas in order, so before he could cool down and start questioning her, she kissed him.

  His hands went to her back, keeping her close as she tasted his throat, the side of his neck. “I love how you taste, George.”

  His fingers contracted on her in reaction. Encouraged, Becky kissed his ear and breathed, “I want to see you, George. All of you. I’ve been fantasizing over your body for a long time.”

  He groaned.

  Slipping to the side, Becky touched his chest, light and curious and teasing, through the open collar of his shirt. “Will you get naked for me?” Her face heated as she made that request, both with a tinge of shyness and with anticipation.

  His mesmerizing gaze locked on hers. “Oh yeah. Whatever you want, Becky.” Without further instruction, he started on his buttons.

  It was a slow striptease and she loved it. Having George remove his clothes for her delectation was a dream come true. Becky didn’t want to miss a single thing.

  As he worked the buttons free, she saw the dark hair on his broad chest, the way it narrowed down his trim abdomen and curled around his navel. The sight of the downy hair below his navel, leading to his sex, made her heart race. He was full and hard, and she could hardly wait to see that part of him.

  He pulled his shirttails free of his slacks, and with a taunting smile, opened the button on his pants and cautiously slid the zipper down.

  He smiled at her wide-eyed fascination. “You, too, honey.”

  “Oh.” She glanced down at her still-exposedbreasts. Her nipples were puckered, darkly flushed, still sensitive. Yes, she could do that. If he enjoyed seeing her upper body, that was fine. If he wanted to touch her there again, or suck on her again, even better. “Okay.”

  Becky watched him watching her. Her fingers seemed far clumsier than his had been, but he didn’t rush her. Instead, still glued to the sight of her breasts, he curled forward, raising his back from the bed. Using his fist, he reached back and grabbed a handful of his open shirt, then yanked it off over his head and down his long arms. He balled it up and tossed it over the side of the bed to the floor. Becky paused in the middle of her stripping.

  Wow, he looked good. His shoulders were hard and sleek and muscled, his chest hairy but not too much so. He looked so … manly, so edible, beyond mere sexy.

  Becky accidentally popped the last button on her sweater, then just stared at him.

  “Take it off.” George leaned back on his elbows. “The bra too.” As he waited for her to comply, he toed off his shoes and let them fall over the end of the bed. They hit her carpeted floor with a soft thunk.

  There was no embarrassment, not yet, not with the hungry way George watched her. Using the excuse of putting her swe
ater and bra on a chair, she crossed the room to the door and shut it. Shadows enveloped them.

  George asked, “Where’s the light?”

  “We don’t need the light.” Becky peeled off her sweater and bra and strode back to him.

  There were two heartbeats of silence. “Now, sweetheart, how can I see you without a light?”

  He spoke so gently, his tone cajoling, that Becky wished she could relent. But she couldn’t, so she teased as she slipped back into the bed with him. “And here I was under the impression you already knew where everything was.” She reached out, felt his chest, and pushed him flat. “Isn’t that right?”

  “Becky …”

  She trailed her hands down his body to the top of his slacks, effectively cutting off his protest. He drew in a sharp breath and his hands caught hers.

  “Let me,” she said.

  His hands dropped to his sides. “You’re pushing me, babe. And I’m already on the edge.”

  “Good.” She loved the idea that she, Becky Harte, could drive a man to the edge.

  “Not good. I want you with me.”

  “I’m right here.” She shoved the material over his hips. “Lift up.”

  He lifted, but said, “No way, Becky. You’re eons behind me.”

  She got his slacks all the way to his ankles and pulled them off with his socks. Taking a deep breath for courage, she explained, “I’ve thought about how I want to do this at least a hundred times, George. And that’s just since yesterday. Please, just lay back and let me have my fun, okay?”

  His hesitation was thick and unnerving. Then with a growl, he dropped back. “Somehow, I just know I’m going to regret this.”

  His legs were so long, she wondered briefly if he’d overreach the length of the footcuffs. As she touched his legs, she felt how his muscles had tensed, his thighs hard as steel. She glanced up at his face, but all she could really see was the glitter of his eyes. “Relax, George.”

  “Ain’t gonna happen, babe.”

  She stroked the inside of his thigh. “Try.” Becky cleared her throat, then touched his erection through the soft cotton of his boxers.