Seduce Me Tonight (Mischief Books)

by Kristina Wright

  Slowly, so slowly I would have screamed in frustration if I hadn’t just come like fireworks, he moved inside of me. He raised up to look at me, smiling slightly as he pulled out to the thick tip and then slid home again.

  ‘I’ve heard that a woman’s orgasm can facilitate conception,’ he said.

  I giggled. ‘I know it’s crazy, but you have no idea how sexy that sounds.’

  ‘Yeah, I do,’ he said, and then his eyes fluttered closed.

  He was lost in his own sensations, his long, slow strokes for his pleasure, not for mine. For some reason, that only served to arouse me – knowing that he was enjoying my body as much as I had enjoyed his mouth. I rocked my hips, as slow as his strokes, finding a rhythm that was just this side of the Zen music I favoured at bedtime. But it was enough to arouse me all over again, the long strokes touching every inch of my engorged pussy, and I was the one who picked up the pace, swirling my hips so that I could intensify the sensation for both of us.

  He moaned in appreciation as I shimmied against him, and dug his fingers into the cheeks of my ass as he pulled me up hard on his cock. I gasped as he moved faster, going into me in hard, shallow strokes. It was almost too much for me to bear, but then it shifted to pure pleasure, my pussy tightening around him on every down stroke as another orgasm tightened my belly.

  He was close, I could see it in the way his jaw clenched and his body tightened. I pulled his head down and kissed him, rocking my hips on him, in time with his strokes, my tongue in his mouth as he groaned into me and released his seed. I hooked my legs up high on his back, keeping everything he offered in the well of my pussy, kissing him and stroking him as my own orgasm moved through me, all sensation focused on where our bodies connected.

  We gasped and moaned as we kissed, our sounds filling the quiet room over the hum of the air conditioner. I held him to me, as hot and damp as I was now, but I didn’t mind. It felt … right. This was why I had come to see him. But I was taking away so much more, no matter what happened.

  He shifted his weight off of me, rising on arms and knees to look into my face. ‘You are so fucking amazing,’ he said. ‘And you’re going to be an amazing mother in nine months.’

  ‘It doesn’t always happen the first time,’ I said, feeling suddenly shy as he moved to lie beside me, the cool air drying my skin and making me shiver. ‘It can take months sometimes, even if the timing is right.’

  ‘I can live with that. I’ll be on call until the deed is done.’ He kissed the top of my head. ‘You would have had to tell me what you were planning, you know. Otherwise, I never would have forgone using a condom.’

  I hadn’t thought about that. I should have, of course, Even for all his sleeping around – maybe because of all his sleeping around – Joe would be careful.

  ‘I don’t think I could not have told you, but I hadn’t thought of that.’

  He cuddled me close, though I sensed our time was running out. At least for now. Court and clients awaited. I wanted nothing more than to close my eyes and take a nap in his arms. And then wake up and do what we’d just done all over again until we were both exhausted. I laughed at myself.

  ‘What?’ he asked, sounding just as drowsy as I was.

  ‘I was just thinking how this wasn’t at all how I expected this to go,’ I said. ‘It’s so much better.’

  ‘Just wait until the baby comes.’ He sighed, as if it was already a reality. ‘And you really have everything you want.’

  I wanted to say that I’d held back – that I wanted the same thing he did, to fall in love. But that was too much to hope for. Hell, this was too much to hope for. Even if I got pregnant the first time out of the gate, Joe hadn’t really had time to process everything. He could still change his mind and I wouldn’t – couldn’t – blame him at all.

  ‘Are you sure about this, Joe? I mean, really?’ I didn’t want to talk him out of it, but I couldn’t in good conscience let us just do this thing and have him deal with the consequences later. ‘I had fully intended not to involve you, or at least that’s what I told myself, but I think part of the reason I chose you was because I knew you’d be a good father.’

  He laughed. ‘Honey, I’m scared to the marrow, but knowing you believe in me is conquering all kinds of fears.’

  ‘There’s no obligation on your part,’ I hurried on, before I lost my nerve. ‘You can be as involved – or not – as you choose to be.’

  He put his fingers over my lips. ‘These are the weirdest vows I’ve ever heard. Just stop. I know what I’m getting into. I want to do this.’ He paused and kissed me hard. ‘I want to give you the child you want – on one condition.’

  My heart sank. Of course there would be strings. Of course he would want something out of the deal. Visitation, maybe? Or a contractual agreement that I wouldn’t sue him for child support? That didn’t seem like Joe, but then I hadn’t really expected he would agree to father my child, either.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Date me,’ he said, stroking my bare thigh in a distracting way. ‘Date me, Danica. I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t thought about what it would be like to have a little one running around. I just didn’t think I’d find a woman who wanted to have a kid with me. The fact that you do – well, I want to date you. I want to see what’s possible.’

  I shook my head, trying to clear both my analytical thoughts and the haze of lust that was growing increasingly impatient and wasn’t helped by Joe pressing his damp cock against my hip. He was hardening again and my body was already responding.

  ‘What does that even mean?’

  ‘Just that. I know we live in different cities, but date me. Date me while you’re here trying to make a baby, date me long distance when you go back to Miami. I have some vacation time coming up, I’ll come down and hang out with you. Just … date me. More than sex, more than baby-making. Date me. Exclusive, at least on my part.’

  I stared at him. It was incongruous. Ridiculous. And ridiculously sweet.

  ‘Joe, you’re not in love with me.’

  ‘No,’ he agreed, guiding me on top of him and settling me over his fully renewed erection. ‘I’m not. And you’re not in love with me.’

  I gasped, losing all hope of being able to speak coherently. And maybe that was his plan.

  ‘But we once had a connection that went beyond sex and I was too absorbed in my own life to pursue it,’ he said, rubbing his cock back and forth against my already sensitive pussy. ‘I’ve had ten years to do my running around and I got tired of it at least three years ago. And here you are now, asking me to get you pregnant, so obviously there’s something about me that you think is special. So, let’s date and see what it is. Worst case scenario, we’re incompatible and go back to being friends raising a child together.’

  That didn’t sound like such a horrible thing, markedly better than raising a child on my own. Plus, it came with the added perk of what he was doing to me right now. I tilted my hips and he slid home.

  ‘And best case scenario?’ I gasped.

  ‘We fall in love and raise a child together.’

  It sounded like a good plan to me.

  Word Games

  My phone beeped, letting me know my opponent had made a move. I studiously ignored it and finished marking the sixth-grade history report in front of me. Just as I scrawled a B+ on the paper, my phone beeped again. The five-minute reminder warning. I squirmed in my seat, the anticipation almost more than I could handle.

  I got through two more history reports before I couldn’t take it any more. Like an addict in need of a hit, I thumbed the slider bar on my phone and the Word Games screen popped up. Like Scrabble for a smartphone, it displayed a board with letters laid out like tiles. The board was nearly filled with words. Beautiful, glorious words.

  I’m a word slut. I love words. I love language. I love dictionaries – and thesauri. I love the way certain words roll off the tongue. Undulate. There’s a word for you. It sounds like what it is. Ripples of ene
rgy flowing off the curves of my tongue to fill the air with that beautiful sound, the mouth forming a perfect ‘oh’ in the middle. Undulate. Ohhh.

  I’d played undulate in this game already, using all seven of my tiles and the d in audacity that he had played earlier. I didn’t know who my opponent was. I use the random player selector and the game assigns me a partner. I assumed it was a man, though his screen name – InkSlinger – could’ve been a woman, too. But for some reason, I just knew it was a man. My screen name was less ambiguous – Lexigirl, a play on my name, Alexandra, and ‘lexicon’. We’d been assigned as random opponents twice and that seemed enough of a coincidence that I now sought him out every time we finished a game.

  Do you want to challenge InkSlinger to a new game?

  The answer was yes. Always yes. Because the only thing better than words is someone who knows how to use them. I love a man with a clever mind, who knows how to engage in wordplay as well as foreplay. Sometimes wordplay is foreplay for me. And InkSlinger was stroking my mind the way I liked my body stroked. Slowly, confidently and with the occasional surprise just to keep me on my toes. It felt like foreplay, except the pay-off was not nearly as satisfying as real foreplay.

  The addiction, and I really had to admit that after only a month of Word Games it had become an addiction, had now taken on a special place in my day-to-day life because I had an opponent who not only had a good vocabulary but understood the strategy of the game. It wasn’t always about big words. Big was good, of course, and using all of your letters garnered you extra points – but sometimes a short word would do even better. Lick, when placed strategically, could land you with thirty points or more. The same with suck. K is a nice letter. It can be used in so many deliciously naughty words. Unfortunately, Word Games wouldn’t allow me to play fuck or dick, but it was fine with cock. I played cock a lot. I love cock. In Word Games, I mean.

  InkSlinger was fond of certain words, too. My suck became his suckled. He used the l in my lick for nipples and I used the e in nipples for ecstasy. We had both played oh and yes many times, taking advantage of triple letter scores for both the h and the y. Sometimes our game board looked more like a jumbled erotic story than a word game. I loved it. Sad to say, it was the only erotic thing about my life, which included teaching sixth graders at Willow Oaks Middle School about the American Revolution, coaching high-school girls’ softball after school and on the weekends and taking care of my parents’ two dogs while they were off on yet another of their exotic trips. And I had InkSlinger. I wasn’t so far gone that I was masturbating to our games, but waiting for him to reply and hearing the ‘beep’ of my phone was enough to make my breath quicken. And sometimes his words … well, they did have a certain affect on me.

  We built on each other’s words, lining up tiles adjacent to each other in vertical, horizontal and perpendicular positions. The words were bad enough to ignite my fevered imagination – tease and me right there next to stroke and lust – but I started to imagine the tiles as bodies – his and mine – engaged in various sexual positions. It was ridiculous. It was sad. It was what kept me going through endless hours of grading history reports and endless nights going to bed alone.

  I probably would’ve gone on like that for ever, or at least until summer came and I was free of my commitments and lonely enough to consider online dating, but then in the middle of a game I was winning, a little blue bubble popped up at the top of my screen. Apparently Word Games had a chat function I hadn’t noticed before. Maybe because there hadn’t ever been anyone I wanted to chat with before.

  I opened the bubble and saw the first words from InkSlinger that were in an actual sentence. Hey Lexigirl, I like playing with you.

  Then, The game, I mean.

  I thought for a moment, wondering whether to further the tone of our games or let it drop. I didn’t know him and he didn’t know me; I could just find someone else to play with. Or not play at all. But it was rare to find someone who had a good vocabulary, a knack for strategy, a sense of humour and a dirty mind. Or maybe I was just projecting these qualities onto him because they were things that were important to me.

  Thanks. I like playing with you too. I like the way your mind works.

  I started to amend it the way he had, make sure I was clear that I didn’t mean it in a suggestive way. But I did mean it in a suggestive way. And flirting with a stranger over a word game seemed about as innocuous as playing dirty Scrabble with co-workers. What was the harm?

  What was the harm, indeed. It didn’t take long before we were messaging as much as we were gaming. It felt natural to play a word like sexy and then ask him how his day had been. We talked about work in general terms; I had no idea what he did besides something that involved writing and I just told him I was a teacher, but everything else was fair game. We messaged about movies and books and what we were going to do over the summer. I didn’t have plans other than not work, but his goals included renting a house in the Outer Banks of North Carolina and learning to surf. But I have to keep working, he messaged.

  Like strangers meeting at a party, we kept the banter light and stayed away from politics and religion, though sex came up. And up, and up. While our games were fun and somewhat arousing but never enough to get me there, our messaging did fuel my fantasies. We danced on the line of propriety, pretending to be word geeks playing a game, but – for me at least – it was the most erotic chat I was getting in my life.

  I’ve heard that you can tell how good someone is in bed by the way they dance, he messaged. But I think it’s by how well they use words.

  I smiled. A love of language makes for an inquisitive and passionate mind.

  Oh, how I love your passion.

  And so it went for another few weeks, with the conversations taking twists and turns but always staying somewhat anonymous. I was both content and frustrated with the situation. It was lovely to have someone like him around to entertain me while I was standing in line at the grocery store or post office, or when I couldn’t sleep at night, but chatting with him was like the first taste of a decadent piece of chocolate cake – I wanted more. Then one night he offered me more.

  Feel like playing? he messaged, after playing the word strip off of my word poker.

  We’re already playing.

  A pause, and then: Not what I meant.

  I blushed, knowing exactly what he meant, and squirmed in my bed. How in the world could such an innocent flirtation arouse me? But arouse me it did.

  I don’t know how to play, I confessed.

  We need to create a version of Strip Word Games.

  I laughed out loud. That’s too geeky for words.

  So? Geeks are sexy.

  Oh, hell, yes, they were. Or he was, anyway. Sexy with his wordplay. I wondered idly if it would translate to sexy in real life.

  We seem to be a perfect match. Maybe we should meet up sometime and play in real life.

  Whoa. Not what I expected, at all. It wasn’t creepy; I felt like I knew him, and I didn’t feel threatened. It was actually kind of flattering because I’d been thinking the same thing, but –

  Yeah, I couldn’t think of a reason that it might be a bad thing to indulge his little fantasy, either.

  That would be intriguing and probably explosive in a variety of ways. I typed. But what are the odds of us being anywhere close to each other?

  The odds are pretty good. The random matches are based on geographic location. Didn’t you know that? Word Games wants word geeks to find each other!

  Crap, I didn’t know that. I was having second thoughts about this game. But then …

  OK, I’ll bite. Where are you? I figured I was safe – basing a game on geographic locations could mean anything. The east coast was a geographic location, but that wouldn’t make meeting feasible. Or he could be four hours away in North Carolina since he’d mentioned renting a house in the Outer Banks. And I didn’t have to tell him where I was, right?

  Just outside D.C., suburb called Willo
w Oaks.

  Meep. We lived in the same neighbourhood. This game was a better GPS than the one in my car.

  Are you going to tell me where you are, Lexigirl?

  I closed the Word Games program without answering.

  * * *

  Like most addicts, I couldn’t stay away. I didn’t finish the game with InkSlinger and I ignored his requests to start a new game. I let Word Games match me up with other random players, always aware that these new strangers might live around the corner or next door. There was no temptation to flirt. Especially when I played the word erotic and my most recent opponent, with the uninspired name Luv_My_Kids, messaged me That’s dirty! and promptly quit the game. I longed for InkSlinger. Did it matter that he lived in the same neighbourhood I did? It wasn’t likely that some psycho would use Word Games to lure in his victim, right? I was being paranoid, watching too many episodes of CSI. And doing what my sister Valerie always accused me of doing – making excuses to be alone. But Valerie was the pretty, confident older sister; she could take her clothes off to model for a room full of strangers taking an art class, while I could barely speak in front of the Parent Teacher Association.

  Late one night, about a week after I found out InkSlinger lived nearby, I logged back into the game and sent him a game request. From my tray of seven tiles, I made my first word. Sorry. Then I sent him a message.

  It kind of freaked me out that you live so close. Sorry. It would be cool to meet. If you still want to.

  He didn’t respond that night. But the next night, as I was just falling asleep, my phone beeped. He’d played lovely off of my y.

  Whenever you’d like, he messaged, just let me know.

  I took a deep breath. What the hell, right? Might as well take a leap of faith and see where it took me.

  How about Thursday night?

  It was Tuesday night, so Thursday seemed soon enough that I wouldn’t chicken out. It also wasn’t a traditional date night, so no undue pressure to make this blind date – if you could even call it that – into something more than two gamers meeting in real life. On the other hand, if we hit it off (what were the odds?), there was a chance of a real weekend date. I was proud of myself for this little logistical move.