And appreciate he did. He savored the softness of her lips, the sweetness of strawberries, chocolate and whipped cream, the playful glide of her tongue. How he’d lived the past thirteen years without kissing Katie was a mystery.
If she needed to be in charge in order for him to enjoy the privilege of being kissed, then she could be in charge forever. Well, maybe not forever. For a long time, though. Several hours, at least.
Because this woman could kiss like no other. How could he have forgotten the joy of kissing her? Why hadn’t he sought her out long before this? Because he was an imbecile, that’s why, too busy caught up in making a success of himself to remember the happiness he’d once found with Katie. From now on he’d pay attention to what was important.
She lifted her mouth from his way too soon. Or maybe not. He’d been aware that the more she kissed him, the harder he was getting. He was fast approaching system overload.
Her breath was warm on his face. “Now lean back,” she murmured.
Closing his eyes, he did as he was told. With the beanbag molded to his body and the rasp of his zipper blending with the beat of jungle drums, he felt the unfamiliar aphrodisiac of surrender pour through him, heating his blood.
“What next?” Her voice floated to him on a stream of sensation.
He had no modesty left. He wanted everything she was offering. “Pull down my briefs.”
Soft hands fumbled with the elastic band. Cool air touched his unrestrained penis. He gripped the pliable sides of the beanbag and fought for control over the one variable left to him. He would not come yet. Not yet.
She drew in a sharp breath. “And now?” Her voice trembled.
“Touch me. Please touch me.”
Her hands felt cool against his hot skin as she began to caress him. “Like this?”
He groaned. “Yes.” Such pleasure should be illegal.
“What else do you want, Jess?”
What else, indeed. He wasn’t sure he could take the what else he had in mind, but after she’d taunted him so thoroughly, he had to have it. “I want you to…use your mouth.”
“I thought you’d never ask. But first…I’m going to play.”
He wasn’t sure what she meant until he felt something warm and slippery being smeared on his penis. Opening his eyes, he was greeted by the sight of Katie finger painting his buddy with melted chocolate.
“How does that feel?” she asked.
He couldn’t possibly answer her when he was fighting not to come. But the incredible sensation of her fingertips smoothing chocolate up and down was worth a clenched jaw.
“I thought this was a better idea than asking you to dip yourself in the fondue pot.”
Laughter rattled in his throat, and he choked it back, afraid it would break his iron control.
“Is it too warm?”
He shook his head.
“Too cool?”
He shook his head again.
“Just right?”
He nodded.
“We’ll call this the Fondue Fondle.”
He would not laugh. He would not. A snort escaped anyway.
“And here goes the main event.” She started giving him a tongue bath in time with the primitive drumbeat in the background.
Dear God. His breath came hard and fast as he absorbed the ecstasy without allowing himself to climax. She lapped him like an affectionate puppy, putting his brain on tilt and his body in such orgasmic readiness he doubted his ability to hold back.
But he would hold back. He would hold back until…ah, there. Her lips closed over the tip while her tongue continued its sensuous dance.
“More.” He was starved for air, hoarse with lust. “Deeper.”
She took him in by slow increments—sweet torture that nearly drove him over the edge. Still he maintained a tenuous grip on his control. Then she retreated, and he moaned in supplication.
“Please,” he whispered. “Please.”
She responded by taking him deep into her mouth. This time when she pulled back it was only for a fraction of a second. Then she took him in again and again, sucking vigorously until he was gasping and clutching the beanbag so fiercely he was afraid he’d rip the thing in two.
He didn’t last long after that. In no time she’d mastered him as efficiently as she’d mastered a can of whipped cream. He heard her proud murmur of satisfaction right before he erupted. His strangled cry of release filled the room, drowning out the sound of jungle drums.
Eyes squeezed shut, he rode the whirlwind of his climax. She stayed with him through the last shudder. Then she slowly drew away, and he lay spent, sprawled in the beanbag chair unable to move, unable to speak.
He was vaguely aware that she adjusted his briefs and zipped his jeans. Then he felt the movement of air as she shifted position. Her lips brushed his cheek. “Take as long as you need,” she said. “Lock the door behind you when you leave.”
His eyes snapped open. Leave?
She blew out the Sterno under the fondue pots. Then she began blowing out the candles.
“Katie?”
“Mmm?” With one candle left to go, she lifted her head to gaze at him. The candlelight flickered over her flushed cheeks and her mouth, rubbed free of lipstick.
His tongue felt thick and unwieldy. “What…what are you…doing?”
“Closing up shop.”
“But you can’t.”
“My shop. My rules.” She smiled at him. “Besides, you look finished for the night.”
“No, I’m not.” He struggled upright and used the coffee table to steady himself as he got to his feet. “Give me a few minutes—twenty, tops. I’ll be fine. I’ll be ready to go again. We’ve only just started here. I haven’t even touched you.”
“Oh, but I’ve touched you.”
“Yes, I know.” Gratitude welled in him. “And you did a fantastic job of touching me. I loved every second of it.” He moved toward her. “Now it’s time for me to return the favor.”
“How quickly we forget.”
“Forget what?” With the orgasm he’d had, remembering his name was an accomplishment.
“I’m the one calling the shots.”
Oh, yeah. That. “You can call the shots. We’ll go into your bedroom and you can tell me exactly what you want me to do.”
“I didn’t invite you into my bedroom, now did I?”
He rubbed a hand over his face. In this new world he was a stranger who didn’t speak the language. “Okay, forget the bedroom. You choose the place. And you can tell me exactly how you want me to touch you. You’ll be in charge of everything, I promise.”
“I don’t want you to touch me. Not tonight. Maybe tomorrow night. We’ll see how I feel about it then.”
“Katie, you have to be feeling sexually frustrated.”
“I’m a little hot and bothered, now that you mention it.”
“Then why are you making me leave?”
“I can take care of it myself.”
He felt like throwing something. “Why? Why not let me give you an orgasm? I’ll do it any way you want!”
“I’m not ready for that to happen yet, Jess. So go on home, and if you’re still interested tomorrow night, you can come back then.” She looked so approachable in the glow of the candle.
Yet she was sending him away. It made no sense. “There’s not as much time tomorrow night. You have your show until ten.”
“Is that past your bedtime?”
“Not if I can go to bed with you.”
“I’ll think about it between now and then. Come by about ten-thirty and we’ll talk about it.”
“Talk? Damn it, I want to do more than talk! We have unfinished business, you and I.”
“That’s not entirely my fault, is it?”
He ground his teeth. “Will I ever stop paying for that decision?”
“You can stop paying anytime you like. Nobody’s forcing you to come to my apartment. That’s up to you.”
“You are a ve
ry frustrating woman, you know that?”
Her expression was calm, her smile gentle. “You don’t have to show up again if it bothers you so much.”
“Maybe I won’t.”
“Your call. I’ll be here.” She leaned down and blew out the last candle. If not for a faint light coming from the kitchen, they would have been in complete darkness. “Good night, Jess. Sleep tight.”
He mumbled a swear word under his breath. He’d been dismissed. She’d had her way with him and now he was banished. But a woman had never had her way with him in quite so spectacular a fashion. A guy would be twenty kinds of a fool to turn his back on that kind of pleasure. He would come back tomorrow night and they both knew it.
SENDING JESS HOME WAS one of the toughest things Katie had ever done, but she knew it was the right move. With every moment that passed she felt more natural in her new role. It boiled down to a question of power. Thirteen years ago she’d given hers away, but she wouldn’t do that again.
Now she was reclaiming her power. In the process she’d gifted him with incredible pleasure. That had been obvious. And gratifying. Also extremely arousing.
She’d told him that she’d take care of the situation without him, but that had been mostly to torment him with a mental image. In reality she had no taste for it. She wanted Jess, naked and willing, to climb into her bed.
He would have been happy to oblige, too. But what she’d told him had been completely honest. She wasn’t ready for that yet. When she allowed him the freedom to make love to her, she had to be sure of herself, confident that the balance of power wouldn’t shift again.
As she finished cleaning up the fondue pots, her cell phone rang. It wasn’t a ring she’d programmed into it, which meant it could be…Jess. Although she hadn’t given him her number, her mother probably had.
She let it ring and waited long enough for him to leave a message before she picked it up. Sure enough, the caller had been Jess.
“I can imagine what you’re doing right now, since you’re not answering your phone,” he said. “That’s partly why I called, just to remind you that I could be giving you that orgasm you’re currently having if you’d let me stay. You’re not the only one good at oral sex, Katie Peterson.”
It was a long speech for Jess. He sounded riled up, and she had to admit that excited her. When she finally turned him loose, he could get a little wild and crazy. So long as she had herself together and could match his forcefulness with her own, they’d have a great time.
“The other reason I’m calling,” he continued, “is to invite you to lunch tomorrow. I think we should see each other in broad daylight. I can meet you at the station at twelve-thirty. Let me know.”
After allowing fifteen minutes to go by, she did a few jumping jacks to get her heart pumping and her breathing accelerated. Then she called him back.
“Hi!” She sucked in a dramatic breath. “I got your message.”
He groaned. “Are you calling me before, during or after?”
“Before, during or after what?” Good. Her act had worked.
“You know perfectly well. From the way you’re breathing, I know exactly what you’ve been doing. You could go blind, you know.”
“I disproved that years ago. I’m proud to say that I still check out twenty-twenty in both eyes.” She couldn’t help grinning. This was fun. “Too bad you believe that old myth, though. What a drag.”
“I don’t. I was kidding.”
“Or maybe you do believe it and are too embarrassed to say so. That would explain why you were so desperate tonight.”
“I was not desperate, damn it!”
“Were so. But that’s okay. I enjoyed myself.” She paused. “I’m still enjoying myself.” By yanking your chain, hot stuff.
“You’re doing it right now? While you’re talking to me?”
“Why not? Is there a law against that?”
“I can’t believe you’re talking to me while you’re…well, yes, I can. That would fit your pattern of trying to drive me nuts.”
“So how am I doing, Jess?”
“Too damned well.”
“You’re getting hard again, aren’t you?”
“Never mind.” His voice had that low, husky quality that gave him away. “At least I know you’re not using a vibrator. I can’t hear anything humming.”
“Want to guess what I’m using?”
“No.”
“Not a candle. Been there, done that. I believe in variety. Come on, take a guess.”
“Katie, I’m hanging up now.”
“But I haven’t told you whether I’d meet you for lunch. I thought you wanted an answer.”
“I did, but now I wonder if lunch is such a good idea. No telling what you’ll try.”
She smiled in triumph. She’d thoroughly convinced him of her bad-girl status. “But if we don’t meet for lunch, you’ll never know, will you?”
“So you’ll come?”
“Interesting choice of words. Yes, I’ll definitely come.”
“I meant to lunch.”
“That, too.”
“I’m really hanging up now. I’m not about to stay on the line and listen to you having an orgasm.”
“That’s fine. I was going to hang up myself. I need two hands.”
“Katie.”
“’Bye, Jess. Think of me.” She took the phone away from her ear and pressed the disconnect button. She was having a blast.
8
AS JESS STEERED HIS TRUCK around the barricades and past KRZE Monday morning, anticipation tightened in his gut. He remembered that feeling—he used to get it every weekday morning when he’d drive to Katie’s house to pick her up for school. Knowing he would see her again today made the sun shine a little brighter. Even if she was a pain in the ass.
No doubt about it, she was a challenge to deal with. In high school she hadn’t hassled him like this. He shouldn’t be surprised that she’d changed in thirteen years, though. A radio personality had to become gutsy or give up the business.
Jess kind of wished she’d picked a different show format, though. Why sex? Why not politics or the environment? Then she wouldn’t have done all that research, research that was making him sweat bullets every time he thought about climbing into her bed. No doubt she knew more than he did.
Well, too bad. He’d have to deal with it. His only alternative was to give up on Katie, and he wasn’t about to do that. After all she’d put him through, he would by God enjoy the fruits of his labors.
He parked the truck and noticed that the number of picketers marching back and forth in front of the tall chain-link fence seemed to have increased. The signs had been updated, too. He shaded his eyes so he could read the closest one, lettered in lipstick-red.
Don’t Put It Up ’Cause You Can’t Get It Up.
Wonderful. Value Our Roots had latched on to Katie’s pet theory. He couldn’t imagine she’d ever seriously had that opinion of him. Most likely she’d done it for the sound bite. She especially wouldn’t think of him in those terms after last night. His problem was more along the lines of keeping it down.
But she’d caught the imagination of the protesters and breathed new life into their campaign. Damn. After clapping his yellow hard hat on his head, he picked up a set of plans and climbed out of the truck.
“Hey, Harkins!” called one of the picketers. “Get a girlfriend, man!”
Jess ignored him and headed for the construction trailer. Wouldn’t that guy be amazed to know where Jess had been last night and what had happened inside Katie’s apartment?
That’s when it dawned on him that he had the power to bring her down if he chose to do that. He could blow her credibility out of the water by exposing their personal interactions of the past three nights. Obviously she didn’t think he would. He didn’t know whether to be flattered or irritated that she was so sure he’d keep their secret.
Gabe met him before he made it to the trailer. “Some of the guys are ticked abo
ut the signs,” he said. “You might want to talk them down. I’d hate to see a fight break out.”
“You and me both. We need to laugh this off. If the guys take it seriously, that’ll just give VOR more ammunition.”
“I’ve heard through the grapevine that the Livingston Development brass are unhappy, too.” Gabe stepped into the shade of the trailer and took off his sunglasses. “They’re leaning on the KRZE station manager to clip Crazy Katie’s wings. I just hope it’s not too late. The protestors seem to love this new angle. Did you see the helium balloons?”
“Balloons?”
“It’s like performance art. They’re down at the far end of the fence. Not too far from KRZE.”
Jess turned back to look. “I don’t see—oh, wait a minute. They’re blowing one up now.” He watched as a large tubular balloon in Day-Glo pink began to inflate. After it reached a height of about eight feet, it began losing air. As it grew limp, a second pink balloon began to swell.
Jess sighed. “Now isn’t that special?”
“Uh-oh. Here comes a TV van. Looks like the balloons might make the six-o’clock news.”
“They wouldn’t put that on the six-o’clock news.” Jess gazed at the TV crew piling out of the van. “It’s too suggestive. Kids could see that.”
“Maybe they’ll save it for the ten-o’clock news, but somebody’s here to get a story. They might look for an angle that won’t offend viewers. I suggest we make ourselves scarce before they spot you and try to get an interview.”
“Oh, shit.” Jess made a beeline for the trailer. “I didn’t think of that.”
Gabe followed at a brisk pace. “Personally I’d like to wring Crazy Katie’s neck. I wonder if the Livingston guys can get her fired. Wouldn’t that be sweet?”
“It would be overkill.” Despite his irritation, Jess’s stomach clenched at the thought of Katie losing the job she loved. Back in high school she’d told him this was her dream, and she’d achieved it. “I still think we ought to treat this whole thing as a joke and ignore it,” he said as he climbed the metal steps to the trailer and went inside.
Talking About Sex... Page 8