Manhandling

by Karen Anders

  Laurel was having the time of her life as she put the kettle on to boil. Mac came up behind her, his hands stealing around her waist. His mouth dipped to the soft skin of her neck and she sighed and leaned into the kiss.

  “Having fun.”

  “Yes, you are a tough player.” She was having way too much fun with this surprisingly versatile bad boy. One who knew how to wield a hammer, do math like he’d majored in it in college, and play Monopoly like a real estate tycoon. She was having a hard time not falling for him.

  “I thought I was good. I always kicked Tyler’s butt, but you, lady, are the premier Monopoly player. I offer you my crown.”

  “And a nice crown it is, but I haven’t won yet. So don’t be too quick in conceding your defeat.”

  The kettle whistled, and she grabbed the black handle, pouring a stream of hot water into his mug. She scooped out two heaping spoonfuls of chocolate and stirred, finally adding a handful of mini-marshmallows from an open bag on the counter.

  He picked up the mug and went back to the living room to resume their play.

  It was Mac’s turn and he rolled a three to land on Boardwalk, netting Laurel a two thousand dollar payoff.

  After several turns Laurel landed on the Income Tax square. In her haughtiest voice she said, “No taxes for us. Leave the taxes to the little people.”

  “Very funny. Do you want to go back to jail?”

  She laughed as she paid her fair share. Finally Mac rolled and ended up on Park Place, costing him fifteen hundred dollars of which he only had twelve hundred. “I could mortgage my property.”

  “Or you could give me the shirt off your back and I’ll call it even?”

  He grinned as he popped the buttons and pulled off the shirt. The temperature seemed to go up twenty degrees.

  His chest was well-defined, the firelight playing off his hard muscles.

  “Laurel, it’s your turn.”

  “Right.” She picked up the dice and rolled. The next time that Mac landed on one of her properties, he was still short of cash. “I’ll take the pants”.

  He stood up and unzipped and unsnapped his jeans. He slid the denim down, accidentally snagging the waistband of his underwear, revealing the tip of his hard, fully aroused cock. He inclined his head imprudently, and said, “Oops. I almost overpaid.”

  She could see the restrained arousal blazing in his bright blue eyes. Laurel squirmed when he slowly reached down and snagged the waistband of his briefs and pulled them back up.

  “Lose the briefs.”

  “It’s not my turn.”

  “No, it’s mine and I say the game’s over and I win. Now, didn’t you say something about giving me your crown?”

  His smile was full of sinful intent. “I did. What did you go to jail for, indecent proposal?”

  “That’s right. Why don’t you come over here and make something out of it?”

  “I will, but not because you want me to.”

  “Why then?”

  “I’m a sucker for a jailbird.”

  He skinned the red cotton down his legs and kicked it away, then straightened, giving her the full-frontal view of him.

  Completely and unabashedly nude and aroused for her, he stole her breath away.

  She took in the light dusting of hair on his chest, followed the narrowing path down to his rippled belly, and lower to the most prominent, impressive part of him. She swallowed hard. His thoroughly erect cock was parallel to his stomach, pointing straight up to his navel, impossibly hard and thick.

  “I’d have given you first place in that beauty contest and the grand prize,” she said.

  Taking a minute to arrange large pillows around the fireplace, she reached across the board and grabbed his hand, pulling him down to the floor. Without another word, she pushed him onto his stomach.

  “I had plans for you tonight. Hold on just a sec.”

  She ran upstairs to her bag to get the edible ambrosia massage oil and quickly dressed in the red open cup bra, garter belt and stockings. The only makeup she put on was a deep red, moist lipstick. When she got back downstairs, Mac had turned to his side and propped his cheek in his hand. His slumberous eyes watched every move she made as she descended the stairs.

  “Damn.”

  When she reached him she knelt down. “Roll back.”

  “I want to look at you some more,” Mac said, resisting her push against his shoulder.

  Laurel smiled softly. “Don’t worry. You can look your fill when I let you turn around. I’m not taking this off.”

  “It’s open in all the right places,” he breathed, running his fingertip along the edge of her bra strap. “I want your silky legs wrapped around my hips as I drive into you.”

  “I love that.”

  “What?”

  “Telling me what you’d like to do to me.”

  “Talking dirty.”

  “Yes.”

  “Like I want to put my lips on your nipples and bring you to orgasm with my mouth.”

  “Oh, Mac,” she gasped, closing her eyes as a rush of heat scorched every nerve ending.

  He sat up abruptly, grabbed her upper arms and dragged her against him, which thrust her hot, hard nipples up and close to his waiting mouth. For a moment he looked deep into her eyes, the way he drew out the anticipation made her frantic for the feel of his hot, wet mouth. His lips covered one nipple and Laurel thought she would catapult right out of her skin. His tongue lapped and swirled until he finally drew the nipple into his mouth and suckled her.

  Laurel moaned, giving herself over to the delightful feel of Mac’s scalding mouth on her turgid nipple, arousing her to the point of dizzying torment. Her other nipple tingled and ached, throbbing for his mouth.

  Her sex felt swollen, slick with her own desire, and his illicit caress was driving her mad. She rolled her head, willing to beg for what she yearned for. “Mac, please.”

  With a growl he took the other nipple and Laurel cried out at the exquisite sensation tugging at her sex.

  “I’ve never seen anything so sexy, so mouthwateringly tempting as the sight of your tits thrusting out of this bit of lace.”

  Laurel let him ruthlessly increase the arch of her back and she sobbed out his name.

  “Stay like that, just like that,” he said as he cupped both her breasts in his big hands and squeezed them together his mouth biting and sucking until she thought she’d go mad.

  She came with a white-hot burst of passion that made her cry out as her hips bucked helplessly caught in a maelstrom of intense pleasure.

  She fell against him weak and wrung out, shivering through the aftershocks.

  When she was able to take in enough air to speak, she looked up at him. “I didn’t plan that part. You always turn the tables on me.”

  “The unexpected really does take you places.”

  “I’d be more than happy to go to that place again, but now I have plans for you.”

  “You won’t hear me argue with the Queen of Monopoly.”

  “Lie down face-first.” He did as he was told and Laurel opened the oil and dropped a few drops into her hand. She rubbed the oil between her palms to warm it and then started on his foot, massaging the oil in until his skin was slick. The light silky oil had a sweet, delicate scent that teased her senses.

  Then she climbed onto him and lowered her clit until it touched his skin. He made a hot, muffled noise as she rubbed herself against him, thrusting her swollen clit against his heel and along her lips. Taking more oil, she slathered it along his leg and moved up gliding her sex along the hard contours of his calf.

  He shifted as if he wanted to turn, but she put her hands on the small of his back to keep him in place. She moved up over his buttocks riding him in an uncontrollable sexy dance. The oil made her clit tingle, the friction of his skin and the slickness of the oil a sensual torture.

  Sensations as exquisite as they were intense rippled through her in undulating waves of passion, beckoning her to let go.
Curling her fingers into tight fists at her sides, she continued to move sinuously on his muscular thigh until her entire body began to shake. Biting her lip, she finally took her pleasure with a soft, keening cry of release. Moving over his thigh, her silk-clad legs hugging and squeezing, she moved down his body until she reached his other heel.

  As soon as she was off him, he flipped over and said hoarsely, “Ride me, Laurel. Now.”

  She didn’t need any more coaxing as she grabbed a condom, sheathed him, and impaled herself onto his hard, pulsating cock.

  His eyes flared wide in response, giving her a brief glimpse of passion, heat and something else warring in their hot blue depths. Before she could analyze that last emotion, she was moving on him, her body undulating and grinding against his as she increased her rhythmic pace.

  A low throaty, on-the-edge moan escaped him, and he reared up and grabbed the back of her head crushing her mouth to his, kissing her with a desperate, fierce passion that caught her off guard. His tongue swept into her mouth, matching the rapid, pistoning stroke of her hips and the slick, penetrating slide of his flesh in hers.

  Tremors radiated through her from the sensitive spot where they were joined so intimately. She felt thoroughly possessed by him, body and soul, in a way that defied their impersonal bargain and the simplicity of an affair. In a way that aroused feelings that had no business being a part of this temporary relationship.

  Pushing those thoughts aside, she concentrated on the pleasure he gave her, and how alive he made her body feel. Running her hands down the slope of his spine, she grasped his waist and held on. Her orgasm broke over her like a gigantic tidal wave rushing with a power as awesome as the earth.

  This time he was right there with her when she reached the peak of her climax. Groaning, he broke their kiss and tossed his head back, his hips driving hard, his body tightening, straining against hers.

  And he let go.

  12

  What kind of light would you like to make love by?

  a. chandelier

  b. flashing lights

  c. neon light

  d. moonlight

  —Excerpt from Who’s Your Hottie? quiz,

  SPICE magazine

  MAC WOKE TO THE dusky light of dawn, the pillows beneath him a soft bed. They hadn’t even made it upstairs the night before. The Monopoly game was strewn across the living room and the fire was nothing but embers.

  He closed his eyes expecting to hear morning noise in the kitchen, but it was silent. The house was silent. Where was Laurel?

  He could no longer deny the feelings that he had for her. Although she thought of him as a temporary lover, he wanted her in his life. Permanently.

  He was in love with her.

  His heart pounded hard and fast, an adrenaline rush that swept through him as he finally put words to the emotions tumbling around in his chest. He didn’t fight the sentiment, didn’t deny its existence. Instead, he allowed it to flow through him and let himself get used to the feeling of knowing that this one special woman complemented him so perfectly, in ways that made him feel whole and complete, physically and emotionally.

  He realized that it was now coming down to days as to when he would tell her who he was and how he came to be involved with her. From the beginning he’d wanted to be honest with her. But how would she take it? How would she react to the fact that he was exactly the type of man she couldn’t see herself with? He knew why.

  Her role model had been her father and she measured everyone up to him. To her all stockbrokers were cut from the same cloth. He’d have to show her that her generalizations were wrong in his case. He’d learned a little about himself in the last couple of weeks. He was a bit of a rebel inside and he could embrace that.

  Mac pushed back the blanket Laurel must have gotten for them last night and dressed. He looked around the house but couldn’t find her anywhere.

  Pulling on a sweatshirt against the early morning chill, he stepped out of the house and looked around. Laurel wasn’t anywhere to be seen. Had she taken a walk? It was a glorious day.

  He heard a metallic sound from the detached garage. Approaching it, he opened the side door quietly. Light from the skylights filtered inside. Laurel was at a workbench using a tool to smooth out a mitered piece of wood. Plans were tacked above her head, sketched out with dimensions and other information written in the margins.

  She was dressed in a pair of jean overalls and a white tank top made more dazzling by the sunlight. She wore work boots on her feet and her dark hair was pulled into a tight ponytail.

  Mac stood there and watched her work as it slowly dawned on him. This was her secret. She was the craftsperson behind the bedroom set in her room, the lip chair, the mosaic table and the interesting art pieces on the walls. Laurel was a skilled furniture designer and builder.

  He could see right away why she was hiding this from her father. Her traditional father would never approve of this kind of off-beat pursuit.

  But it was much more than that and Mac saw what was at the crux of Laurel’s anxiety. She was trying to live up to her mother’s expectations. This furniture was a way for her to express not only her inner creativity, but the gift her mother had unwittingly given her daughter. It made a lot of things clear to him, but obviously they weren’t clear to her. A thousand feelings piled up in his chest. Guilt, uncertainty, self-doubt, fear, but most of all love.

  Feeling suddenly very shaky inside, he entered the garage. Laurel turned at the sound. It pulled at his heart the look of vulnerability on her face.

  “This is your secret?”

  She nodded and put down the tool, taking off her safety glasses and laying them beside the tool. “No one knows.”

  “Why, Laurel?”

  She shrugged and stepped away from him, her gaze on the numerous finished pieces in the back of the garage. “They wouldn’t understand.”

  “You mean your father wouldn’t approve.”

  “God, no. He would not approve of me spending a penny on this place. He would look at my furniture and just not get it just like he didn’t get my mother’s collection.”

  He walked over to her and cupped her cheek, turning her toward him. “It’s not all about your father.”

  “What is it about? Enlighten me.”

  “You’re afraid to expose yourself to everyone, not just your family.”

  “It’s just furniture.”

  “I think it’s much more than that, Laurel. It’s part of your identity. What you love to do and you don’t want it scrutinized, held up to your mother’s achievement and measured. That’s why you acted so anxious every time someone gushed about your mother. That woman, Mrs. Foster. She said you were very like your mother.”

  Laurel stubbornly shook her head. “I’m protecting myself by keeping this place quiet, that’s true,” she said, staring up at him. “Just like I try to protect myself from getting hurt. Until I met you, that is.”

  He tried to smile as he stroked her cheek with his thumb. “Your little piece of heaven,” he said, his voice gruff.

  “But I was able to show it to you. What does that say?”

  “It says that you trust me.”

  She stared at him for an instant longer; then she closed her eyes and came into his arms, holding on to him with desperate strength. Closing his own eyes, Mac roughly buried his face in her neck, locking his arms around her. Inhaling raggedly, he tightened his hold on her, an agony of guilt rushing through him.

  “I do. I really do.”

  It took him a while, but he got himself under control and could finally breathe without that hard ache in his chest. Releasing a shaky sigh, he adjusted his hold on her, drawing her deeper into his embrace, his lungs constricting. The thought of her working out here all alone sobered him like little else had, and he pressed her hard against him, a dozen regrets settling deep in his heart. If only…If only…

  Knowing that kind of thinking wouldn’t help, he simply held her, the fullness in his chest e
xpanding. She was so strong and so vulnerable. She felt so good and smelled so good.

  Unable to control the urge, he widened his stance a little, pressing her against the hard ridge of flesh, turning his face against her neck and clenching his teeth.

  She made a low desperate sound and twisted her head, her mouth suddenly hot and urgent against his. The bolt of pure, raw sensation knocked the wind right out of him. Mac shuddered, and he widened his mouth against hers, feeding on the desperation that poured back and forth between them. She made another wild sound and clutched at him, the movement welding their bodies together like two halves of a whole, and he nearly lost it right then. But the taste of her was erotic and he ground his mouth down onto hers.

  Wrong. This was wrong. He was supposed to tell her who he was, not have sex with her again. But he wanted her and knew when those words crossed his lips everything would change and he couldn’t seem to let go of her.

  She clutched him tighter, already sensing that he was going to pull away, as if she were trying to climb right inside him. Her arms locked around Mac, she choked out his name; then she moved against him, silently pleading with him, pleading with her body and any connection he had with reason shattered into a thousand pieces.

  The feel of her heat against him was too much, and he clenched his jaw. His face contorting from the surge of desire, he caught her around the hips welding her roughly against him. He needed this—the heat of her, the weight of her. Her. He needed her.

  Laurel made another low sound, then she inhaled raggedly and pulled herself up against his arousal, her voice breaking on a low sob of relief. “Mac, don’t stop. Please don’t stop.” She moved against him again, and Mac tightened his hold even more, unable to stop as he involuntarily responded. Body to body, heat to heat, and suddenly there was no turning back.

  Shifting her head, he covered her mouth in a hot, deep kiss, and she opened to him, her mouth moving against his with an urgent hunger. It was too much and not nearly enough, and Mac lifted her higher and caught her behind the knee, dragging her leg around his hip. With one twisting motion, his hard heat was flush against hers. Grasping her buttocks, he thrust against her again and again, a low groan wrenched from him as she moved with him, riding him, riding the hard thick ridge jammed against her. But that wasn’t enough, either. Mac nearly went ballistic, certain he would burst if he didn’t get inside her.