Double the Thrill

by Susan Kearney

  She was wearing one of those provocative slip dresses, a deep purple gown with tiny, wispy straps to hold it up. The fabric clung to her curves, molded to her hips all the way down to her matching spiked heels. He didn’t know how she could possibly walk, until he noted the long, lethal slit at the thigh that caused him to release a low whistle of appreciation.

  “Wow.” He stepped back, holding the door wide, breathing in the scent of her jasmine perfume as she entered.

  She didn’t so much as flicker one long eyelash at his state of undress. Although she had seen his bare chest before, he couldn’t help but feel a tad miffed when she took more interest in the room than in his very wet, very naked flesh.

  Grey had hired some designer to decorate, and her inquisitive gaze skimmed over the leather couches, the light oak tables, with their art deco lamps, to the eclectic art collection on the walls. Although Grey was partial to renaissance nudes in gold frames, he also collected Andy Warhol and Picasso.

  “What do you think?” he asked.

  “It’s nice.”

  “Nice is such a bland word.”

  Her gaze settled on a display shelf, the only objects in the room that actually belonged to Zane. He’d taken the collection, which he’d begun many years ago, with him because he hadn’t wanted Grey to see them. As if drawn to his collection, she strolled toward the shelf. “That, that looks like…”

  “Yes?”

  “Glass dildos?” Her eyes lit with amusement and curiosity.

  “They’re made of handblown glass.” He plucked one of them from the shelf and handed it to her. Although he possessed pieces of erotic jewelry that came from his friend Reina Price, she didn’t work in glass. He’d purchased the pieces from Shamar, another artist displayed at Reina’s gallery.

  “It’s heavy. Smooth.” She ran her fingers over the glass sculpture. Naturally, he couldn’t help recalling when she’d done exactly the same thing to him. Only he hadn’t been made of glass; he’d stiffened and swelled…and now he ached to do so again.

  He reminded himself that he’d asked her here to talk. But it was odd how she’d automatically approached the only objects in the room that weren’t Grey’s. He hadn’t wanted to leave his erotica collection behind. No telling what his brother would have thought of the objects. They had been crafted as carefully as any artistic sculpture, yet they were undeniably outrageous.

  “The glass is fired at high temperatures to prevent any chance of breakage.” Zane watched her fingers close over the base and he swallowed hard.

  Down, boy.

  She noted the towel tenting at his hips and smacked her lips, yet continued to fondle the dildo. “I’m suddenly feeling overdressed.” She turned around and gave him her back. “Would you mind unzipping me?”

  Mind? Of course he wouldn’t mind. His plans for conversation were sinking faster than the Titanic.

  He swept her hair from her shoulders with a delicate caress, his fingers tingling. Still, he made an attempt to keep to his original plan. “Don’t you want to eat first? Aren’t you hungry?”

  “Unzip me, and then I’ll let you decide exactly what you’re hungry for.”

  He did as she asked, tugging down the zipper slowly, revealing the soft, smooth flesh of her back. Kissing each inch before he revealed the next. He’d fully intended to feed her dinner and talk to her about his suspicions, but that could wait.

  He couldn’t.

  And then the microwave that had been heating the pasta dinged. “I should get that.”

  At his words, she shimmied her hips and the gown pooled at her feet. At first he thought she was nude. But then he saw the flesh-colored filmy lingerie. Suddenly he couldn’t wait for her to turn around. She’d dressed to seduce him and the thought heated his blood.

  She stepped out of her dress, carefully picked it up, then tossed it onto the couch. Slowly, very slowly, she turned around.

  She was wearing a sinfully strapless bra that lifted her breasts, but left her nipples bared. And panties cut so high, they emphasized her slim hips and tight bottom.

  He sucked in his breath. “The food can wait.”

  But immediately after he said the words, the oven timer dinged, signalling it was time to remove the garlic bread from the oven. Mouth watering, he backed into the kitchen. “There will be a fire if I don’t at least take the bread out of the oven.”

  Step for step, she followed him, the glass dildo still in her hands. He swiped the dildo’s mate from the shelf, an idea starting to form in his mind. She wanted to play, did she? Well, he hadn’t given her all the particulars about his collection. However, he much preferred showing to telling.

  “I’m good in the kitchen,” he told her, keeping the joke to himself for now.

  She licked her bottom lip provocatively. “I’m counting on it.”

  12

  TONI HAD HOPED HER NEW lingerie would incite Grey’s lust, but for a man so obviously ready to make love, he was acting oddly. He dashed around the kitchen, removing a tray from the oven, another from the microwave, then, instead of giving his attention to her, he removed a glass jar from a cabinet next to the sink, filled the jar with water and set it inside the microwave.

  Finally, he leaned forward to kiss her, at the same time, he removed the glass dildo from her hands. Her back to the counter, she leaned against the edge for support, no longer caring about the sculpture, focusing her attention solely on Grey. He tasted like chicory, the thick coffee New Orleans made famous, and she realized he had a pot perking on the counter.

  Behind her, she heard him open the fridge—no, make that the freezer, she amended as frigid air blew over her almost bared skin, causing her to shiver, raising goose bumps on her back, and making her nipples pucker. While she didn’t mind him preventing their dinner from burning, she wished he’d stop fussing and put his hands on her.

  She broke the kiss, irritated. “Will you stop with the cooking stuff and warm me up?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” His eyelids shuttered, hiding a gleam of amusement.

  “It’s no fun when you’re more concerned with—”

  His mouth swooped down over hers, stifling her complaint. His tongue insinuated itself between her lips, teasing, tasting and taunting. She sighed into him in appreciation.

  This was more like it.

  A kiss she could sink into and appreciate. A warm-up for what was to come. The man could kiss, she had to give him that. He seemed to know exactly how much pressure to apply and where to apply it, yet she sensed his thoughts weren’t totally focused on her. How could they be, when he’d opened the cabinet behind her to remove a cruet of, she turned her head slightly…olive oil?

  With his flesh still damp from the shower, rivulets of water from his wet hair dripping over the hard muscles of his neck, shoulders and chest, she considered lapping up every drop off his warm skin to distract him from his cooking activities. If she hadn’t been so sure that he wanted her, she might have pulled back in a huff. But his hard sex brushing through the towel and against her hip clearly told her of his interest. An interest she intended to intensify.

  The microwave dinged again. She started and muttered a curse. She could have sworn he’d smothered a chuckle. But when she fired her sharp gaze at him, he appeared the picture of innocence. From beneath eyelashes spiked with water droplets, he pinned her against the countertop between the microwave and the freezer.

  “You aren’t going to do more cooking, are you?” she complained.

  At her impatient frown, his eyes twinkled with mirth. “If you must have me now, I’ll set the delay on the timer.”

  “Make it a protracted delay,” she urged.

  He reached behind her to press a few buttons, but she paid no further attention. She was much more interested in removing the knotted towel from around his hips. Her fingers fumbled and she’d just succeeded, when the microwave timer dinged again.

  “I could learn to hate that sound.”

  He reached inside, removed the glass
jar. With her back to the microwave, she couldn’t see what he was doing and paid no attention to the movements of his hands behind her back. Instead, she lapped up a trickle of water at his neck, pleased that his pulse was so erratic.

  From a glance at his expression, he might appear unaffected by her seduction, but there could be no denying her effect on him or the fullness of his erection, which encouraged her—even if he did keep puttering with kitchen stuff.

  Surely she was up to distracting him from a microwave and jars of water and olive oil. She used her tongue to follow the flow of water from his neck to his nipple, pleased when he sucked in his breath, displeased when he had the presence of mind to reset the microwave buttons.

  When the damn thing dinged again, seemingly only five seconds later, she retaliated by taking his nipple between her teeth and biting down lightly. Holding him immobile, she spoke in a half mumble. “Don’t move.”

  “But—”

  She bit down just a little harder.

  “Hey—”

  With her free hand she reached between his legs and teased his balls. Still, he managed to hit the reset button on the microwave.

  But if she’d needed more evidence of his arousal, she now had it. He was drawn so tight that his legs quivered. Sensing he wouldn’t try to move, she relaxed her teeth on his flesh and laved the nipple with soothing licks. Slowly, she rolled his flesh in her palm, stroking him where he was hard, caressing him where he was soft.

  This time when the microwave dinged, he didn’t move, just spoke between gritted teeth. “It’s going to be payback time soon, lady.”

  “Mmm.”

  But she didn’t have patience for his games right now. Not as she teased his flesh with her lips and tongue. Not when giving him pleasure brought her to a fever pitch of need.

  She longed to have him inside her. And suddenly she recalled the condom in her purse, way across the kitchen in the living room. Damn.

  Now that she had him just where she wanted him, she wasn’t about to leave. He might decide to bake cookies or brownies. On the other hand, she wouldn’t have unprotected sex. She might love the big lughead, but she wasn’t ready to risk a pregnancy.

  He must have sensed her hesitation. “Something wrong?”

  Her gaze lifted to his, then to the towel she’d discarded on the floor. “I don’t suppose you have a condom nearby?”

  He opened a kitchen drawer so far the drawer came completely free of its hardware. Aluminum foil, Ziploc baggies and garbage twist ties fell to the floor. He tried the drawer on their other side. No luck. Instead, plastic lids and wooden spoons tumbled out of the drawer to the floor.

  “There might be one over—”

  She didn’t ask why he had condoms in his kitchen drawers. She’d known from the start there’d been women before her and wouldn’t hold his past against him.

  “Way to go, bro,” he muttered. Or that’s what she thought he said.

  “Huh?”

  He held up a packet in triumph. “Ta-da. I told you I was good in the kitchen.”

  Pleased with his find, unwilling to ask for explanations, she tried to go back to exploring his body, but he hooked his thumbs into her panties and removed them, then he clasped her waist with his big hands and lifted her onto the kitchen counter. The sparkly white granite felt pleasantly cool against her bare buttocks.

  “I’ll do the honors.” She reached for the condom, but he flipped it out of her reach.

  “Not yet.”

  Very deliberately, he placed her arms behind her, palms down so she could comfortably support herself, then nudged her thighs wide. She expected him to come to her, not reach for the cruet of olive oil.

  Then he opened the microwave. All along she’d thought he’d been heating water for dinner, but she’d been very mistaken. Behind her back where she couldn’t see what he’d been doing, he’d placed the glass dildo in the heated water. And now he dribbled the olive oil over the glass sculpture with intense concentration.

  As she figured out his intentions, her mouth went dry. “You want to…”

  “Do you?”

  She stared in fascination as he smoothed the oil over the glass until the dildo was thoroughly coated. As much as she’d wanted him inside her, she couldn’t help her curiosity. And yet, she’d never done anything like this.

  “We can stop anytime you like,” he told her, testing the heat against the inside of his wrist. “I used a microwave thermometer. The glass is heated perfectly to one hundred and ten degrees.”

  He hid the glass sculpture between her parted thighs. Just close enough to sense the heat.

  “I wanted you inside me.”

  “This will be double the thrill,” he promised.

  When she hesitated, he rubbed the slippery glass along her inner thigh, shooting a tingling sensation straight to her center. Making love with Grey would never be boring. He could be incredibly innovative, exciting, and she intended to more than keep up with him.

  As if sensing her compliance, he drizzled more olive oil directly between her legs. Tiny, delicious trickles suddenly made it difficult for her to hold still.

  Voice husky, she pleaded, “Touch me.”

  His eyes focused on her in appreciation, his nostrils flaring with each breath. He stood between her thighs like a man focused on a mission. Intense. Complex. His chin jutted with determination and his lips tightened as he held back his own need to give her pleasure.

  Slowly, ever so carefully, he parted her aching flesh and rubbed the smooth glass against her. Sensations like she’d never known danced along her tender skin.

  “Oh…my. I’m…so…hot.”

  “You certainly are.”

  Licking his bottom lip as if hungry to taste her, he suddenly shot her a wicked grin. A charming grin. A grin that eagerly awaited her reaction.

  He slid the rounded tip of the heated glass into her. The warmth and pressure had her suddenly frantic to pump her hips.

  “Hold still,” he ordered as if reading her thoughts. “Talk to me. Tell me how you feel.”

  “Give me more,” she demanded. “Hurry.”

  He moved slow and easy, his thumb flicking over her clit, while he inserted another warm inch.

  She lifted her hips, tilting them, eager to take all the heat inside her at once. “More.”

  He gave her more, his thumb swirling, and then he leaned forward, taking her nipple into his mouth. His lips grazed the lace of the demi-bra she still wore and she arched into him, frantic with need. With his tongue licking a flame of pure sizzling energy at her breast, his fingers busily creating magic and the heat from the glass inside her, she was about to go off like a fire-cracker.

  Her head was numb, as if all her blood had left and gone south. And when he began to move the dildo in and out, she tilted her head back and uttered a long, low moan. “I’m going to…I’m going to…explode.”

  “No, you aren’t.” His voice was tight. “Close your eyes and tell me that you are going to hold back.”

  She didn’t hesitate to follow his demand. He opened the freezer again. “Maybe some cool air will slow down your burn.”

  But after she closed her eyes, all she could think about was that every cell in her body was about to erupt through the top of her head. A little cool air from the freezer wouldn’t douse the flames.

  “If you want me…to hang on, then…just stop for a second.”

  He paid no attention and she couldn’t help wondering why he was urging her over the edge this way. Almost as if he had something to prove—to himself.

  “Give me just one second.”

  Instead of relief, he moved his fingers faster between her legs, increasing the pressure and she bit her lip to contain a scream.

  His voice stopped coaxing and commanded. “Not yet. Wait.”

  “I…don’t think…I can.”

  Despite every effort to obey, her body wasn’t listening. He’d set her blood on fire. She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t wait another
second.

  And then just as she began to spasm, he pulled out the heat. And plunged in ice.

  A crazy uproar of intense sensation shot her over the edge into blissful fire and ice. Hot and cold. And pure unadulterated release. She couldn’t hold back a scream. Or the shudder that racked her with such pleasure she felt faint. Instinctively, she fell forward into his arms, her mind spinning, her body trembling. She lacked the strength to flex a muscle, lacked the willpower to attempt anything more than enjoy the exquisite pleasure he’d given her.

  It took several long moments, maybe minutes, for her to regain just a semblance of her senses. He held her against his chest, cushioning her head under his chin.

  “That was unbelievable…that switch from hot to cold,” she finally said.

  He chuckled. “That’s why I positioned you between the microwave and the freezer.”

  And she’d been thinking he was cooking dinner. She should have guessed. When she tilted her head back to look up at him, satisfaction gleamed in his eyes. Clearly he was pleased with his kitchen accomplishments, more pleased that she hadn’t been able to hold back.

  Even now she quivered with the aftereffects. The experience had boggled her mind and frazzled her senses, but what she really wanted right now was Grey. Grey’s arms around her. Grey inside her.

  “What?” he asked.

  “It might be fun to do that again sometime but—”

  “But—”

  She craned her head, looking down a hallway. “Doesn’t this apartment have a room more suited to lovemaking, perhaps one with a bed?”

  OF COURSE HIS BROTHER had a bed, a king-size thousand-count cotton-sheeted four-poster bed with a gold quilted coverlet that Zane had swept to the thickly carpeted floor before he’d lowered Toni into the middle. They’d made love twice since, and he’d forgotten about his ruined plans. A man as satiated as he had no right to complain when his woman had taken care of him so well, so completely.

  His woman? Just when had Zane started to think of her as his? He wanted to shove the alarming thought away. She had just slipped into his thoughts and arms so naturally that he hadn’t had the chance, or the heart, to take even one step back.