Not in Her Wildest Dreams

by Dani Collins

  The visits she shouldn’t be making.

  But it was like there was an inaudible pulse beat that called her across to him. She ought to be stomping into her father’s basement, shaking her brother awake and demanding answers, but she wasn’t going to like the answers so she just kept promising herself one more night. Tomorrow she’d deal with Lyle. Tonight...

  “Hey, darlin’,” Sterling said over his shoulder, voice sleepy as she slipped through the back door, then shut it against the low thrum of a steady downpour. His hair was flat on one side, slanted west on the other. The back of his flannel shirt had wrinkles pressed into it. He was pouring steaming water into a cup, stirring up the scent of cinnamon and hot chocolate.

  “You look like you just woke up.”

  “I fell asleep on the couch waiting for you.” He smiled, then frowned. “C’mere. Why don’t you ever wear a jacket?” He held out an arm while sipping from the mug with his other hand.

  She hesitated, thrown off her stride because he wasn’t snatching her into the house and attacking her clothing the way he had every other night.

  “I always think I’ll run and won’t get wet.” She toed off her shoes and joined him, breathless as she let him tuck her against his side and plant a chocolatey kiss on her lips.

  He wove his hand into her damp hair and urged her to rest her temple against his heartbeat, quietly embracing her for a few minutes while the rain created a bubble of sound around them. He offered her his mug.

  “Share?”

  She rejected it with a brief shake of her head. The sharing would begin with hot chocolate, but it would end with her struggle over whether to betray her brother.

  Sharing was out. Straight, trouble-erasing sex would be fine, thanks. Letting her hand trail down, she climbed it up the inside of his thigh, burrowing gently into the heat of his loins.

  He shifted his feet. His arm tightened around her. He rubbed his chin on her hair. “Did you and your husband ever play games, Paige?”

  “Pardon?” She let her hand fall away. “Like Pictionary?”

  “No.” His lips twitched with amusement.

  That’s what she had thought. She drew away, uncomfortable.

  He set down his mug and asked, “He didn’t want to wear diapers, or spank you, or go down on you? Kinky stuff like that?”

  “No, no, and, I never asked him to. In that way we were quite compatible. And I don’t think receiving oral sex is kinky, it’s just not something I’m comfortable with. Why are you bringing it up again?”

  “I’m just trying to figure out why you have a hang up about it. You go anywhere you want on me.”

  “Giving is different. Guys like women going there.”

  “What if this guy likes going there?”

  “It just doesn’t do it for me. Let it go.” And could they please get to the steak and potatoes sex?

  “All I’m saying is, just because you’ve never had good oral sex doesn’t mean you should write it off.” He reached for something on top of the fridge. “I’d make you come.”

  “That’s very humble of y—” She swallowed as he draped a length of white satin around her neck so the fringed ends rested on each of her breasts. “It’s after Labor Day. Do you have something in ecru?”

  “Do you trust me, Paige?”

  He had to be kidding. “Um....”

  “It’s very soft. Feel it.” He tugged one end, slithering it down her breast while he raised her hand and trailed the cool silkiness over the bare skin of her wrist, making her hand tremble and goosebumps rise on her forearm.

  “Sterling...”

  “Just answer the question.”

  “Well, I’m pretty sure you’d never hurt me, if that’s what you mean.” Physically. Emotionally she was prepared to bet big money he was going to devastate her.

  His lip twitched as though he was amused by a secret only he knew. “Here, hold it like this.” He arranged her hands, palms up, so the silk draped over both, the slack hanging between them. Then he framed her face with his hands and said, “Do you trust me? Yes or no.”

  “It’s not that I don’t. But I’m not sure I’m ready for bondage.”

  “Yes or no, Paige?”

  Her heart beat so hard it hurt her ribcage. Her skin felt clammy with a nervous sweat. But deep in her belly, heat pooled into a weight of betraying excitement. She was turned on. And if she said, no, she didn’t trust him, she might lose what they had.

  Still....

  He ran soothing thumbs over her jawbone, waiting for her answer. Did she trust him? Could she? That was the question. Whether she should start, really start, to believe in him.

  She wanted to. “I do,” she said hesitantly. “But bondage?”

  He stilled her lips with his thumb.

  “Your faith in me will always be rewarded.” He took the scarf in two hands to press it across her eyes.

  She was so surprised, it took her a moment to remember to breathe. By the time she did, he had her blindfolded and drawn fully against him.

  Wrapping her arms around his waist, she hugged herself into his warmth, kind of giddy she was so relieved, feeling rewarded. Feeling the first threads of genuine trust.

  When he tilted her chin up, she poured gratitude into the kiss, generous with herself, able to give more because it felt safe to do so.

  The kiss went on, paced slow, both of them willing to enjoy just lips and idle embracing when every other time she’d set a demanding pace for fear of having it all snatched away. And really, it wasn’t so different blindfolded. They’d made love in his darkened bedroom and would move there again soon.

  “Let’s go into the parlor,” he said, his chocolate-scented breath sultry against her lips. “I have the really kinky stuff set up there.”

  “Um.” She didn’t step in time with him so he caught her behind the knees and swung her into a cradle-hold against his chest. “Oh!”

  “You said you trusted me,” he teased.

  “It feels weird to be carried. And I don’t know what you’re planning.”

  “That’s the whole point, isn’t it? You have to trust me.” He released her legs and she clutched at him until her socked feet found the cool hardwood. “Now stand here while I get the whip.”

  Her hands went to the blindfold. He stopped her. “I’m teasing. And I’m trusting you, too, gorgeous. No cheating.”

  She sensed him moving away and waved her hands through the air, trying to find furniture so she could orient herself. It was warm in here. She could hear the fire crackling so she was surprised to hear a match strike.

  “Would you really whip me?” she asked.

  “Not even if you begged. Not my thing. The begging has potential, though.”

  “Just because you’ve never had good S&M doesn’t mean you should write it off.”

  He chuckled, then blew a breath. The scent of sulfur came to her nostrils.

  “Candlelight?” she guessed.

  “What can I say? I’m a pervert. Here comes the really freaky stuff. Ready?”

  She swallowed, strained her senses for a warning as to what would happen, knew she’d only find out if she continued to trust him. She nodded.

  There was a click, and then piano notes. Norah Jones.

  He was in front of her all of a sudden, lifting her hands behind his neck, drawing her against him and swaying.

  “You’re one depraved sicko, Roy.” She followed his lead as her body fit into his. Her head found a place on his shoulder. “You should be locked up.”

  “It was this or painting your toes, but I couldn’t bring myself to buy the polish.”

  She smiled and moved her arms down around his waist, so she could get under his shirt and feel the bare skin of his back. “This is nice.”

  “I’m glad you think so. Did I mention the drapes are open?”

  She stiffened and lifted her head. “Really?”

  He didn’t answer, but she suspected he was grinning.

  “I’m going to h
ave a hard time trusting you if you keep lying to me.”

  His hands stroked her back, warm and sure, drifting low to shape her backside. The lazy stimulation relaxed her at the same time it unfurled a teasing response inside her. She settled her head against him again.

  After a moment he asked, “Why would it bother you if people knew about us?” His tone told her it bothered him that she wanted to keep their affair secret.

  She took her time answering, felt like it might be the biggest leap of faith yet. Adjusting the position of her head, she said, “I’m not up to the speculation that will follow when it ends.”

  He stopped dancing briefly, then guided her into swaying again and danced her onto the ribs of the spiral area rug. “I don’t see why it matters what people think.”

  “How about you trust me that it does.” Especially when she was the one who would be assumed to have fallen short in the relationship.

  Norah clicked over and invited them to come away with her.

  They shuffled around the room, hands beneath shirts, stroking as lightly as the play of notes drifting around them.

  “I don’t like rules and restrictions,” he said, lifting the hem of her T-shirt. “It bugs me that you have so many.” He gently tugged her shirt past the blindfold then off her arms. “Now, that’s pretty. But let’s lose this, too.” She felt her bra release.

  “I don’t have many rules. Just one. Privacy. Big deal.” She tried to bunch his shirt up his chest, but he removed her bra and twined her arms around his neck, settling her against him while his hands went to her ribcage, grazing the outer swells of her breasts as he urged her into the shuffle again.

  “You have a ton of Don’ts. You won’t let me go down, the audit is top secret, dinner isn’t on the menu, sleepovers at either house are forbidden.”

  “Can we talk about this another time? You’re killing the mood.” His flannel shirt was incredibly soft against her bare torso, but she felt uncomfortable, knowing she was half naked while he was fully clothed. “And get rid of this, will you?”

  “Not yet.” He changed his hold so one hand held her hips close enough to feel the ridge of his erection beneath his jeans. The other gently traced her breast, a fingertip circling her nipple, knuckles stroking beneath and around, creating a prickly, tickling sensation that made her skin feel tight.

  Crossing her arms behind his neck, she flattened her breasts against his chest, partly to soothe the ache, partly because she felt so self-conscious. She kissed him.

  He let her control it, pleasing her because she was able to get her hands under his shirt and lift it again. But while she did, he used the angle of their bodies to work his hands between them, releasing the snap and zipper of her jeans.

  “What are you doing?” He wasn’t helping her remove his shirt, too busy rolling her jeans down her hips. She kept her hands on his chest, fingers combed into the short furls of chest hair, waiting while he pushed jeans—and panties!—down.

  “Let me take off your shirt first,” she protested.

  He kept wriggling her jeans down until his big do-it-my-way willpower forced her to let go. When her jeans were bunched at her ankles, he eased one foot out at a time, stripping her socks as he did.

  “Okay, now you,” she said, not exactly cold, standing there buck naked, but shivery. He only tugged her close again, the shift of his body and the muffled thump telling her he’d used his foot to nudge her knotted clothing away from their feet.

  Norah began comparing herself to a light in an empty room, waiting to be turned on. Paige was already there. Quite turned on.

  Sterling began a deeper sway, so their hips moved in a more circular motion. Rough denim grazed her nude belly, and taut, jeaned thighs brushed her bare ones. The pressure of his erection nudged her and made her seek pressure against the ache.

  She tried telling him she felt awkward with this level of exposure, that it had occurred to her she didn’t know if the drapes were really closed, but he kissed her, deeply, and grew bolder with his straying hands until she felt like she was going to melt into a puddle of sexual need right here on his grandmother’s parlor floor.

  When he let her up for air, they were both panting. He set her away a bit, his heavy breath tickling her collarbone, his hand hot on her hip. “Jesus, I love looking at you.” He scooped her up against his chest again and carried her.

  Finally. She went boneless in his arms, already anticipating the pleasure of penetration. Oh, she liked sex, but until Sterling, she’d never had it so good she actually whispered words like, “Hurry.”

  She did now, heard his breath catch before he said, “Not this time.”

  He set her on the bed, his duvet poofing around her.

  She reached out, expecting him to join her.

  He guided her hands over her head. “Feel those?” Cool metal. The handles on the headboard drawers. “I’ve locked them. Hold as tight as you like.”

  “I want to hold you.”

  He kept his hands over hers until she curled her fingers in a solid grip, then he kissed her briefly, only long enough to drag a hand down her body, over one breast, across her hip, stroking down her inner thigh, catching behind her knee as he bent her leg open. Cool air swirled against hot dampness.

  She tried to close her legs, but he stopped her. “No, don’t hide. And don’t let go of those drawers, darlin’. There, just let me look a minute.” His breath sounded ragged.

  She bit her lip, her thighs twitching with the need to close, yet she was so turned on, her palms hurt where she gripped the drawer pulls. “Are the lights on?”

  “And the cameras rollin— I’m kidding. No, just stay like that. God, Paige.” She heard the pop and zzz of his jeans opening, the shoosh and muted flump of clothing being divested. And then silence again.

  She swallowed.

  Waited.

  “What are you doing?” she asked, aching with need, rolling her hips in invitation.

  “Looking.” The bed gave between her legs as he settled his knees there, his hands on either side of her raised arms, not touching her, but hovering over. He kissed her once, then her chin, and the upper swell of her breasts. “Trust me, Paige?”

  Behind the blindfold, she clenched her eyes shut, knowing what he wanted. “You just nag and nag until you wear a person down, don’t you? If I didn’t loathe your mother so much, I’d pity her.”

  “Careful. She’s right here.”

  “You’re horrible. Just for that, I’m going to refuse.”

  “Too late. Remember to hang on.”

  “I’m telling you I’ve never enjoyed this. I don’t want you to be disappointed.”

  “But I’m really good at it.” He licked beneath her breast, caused a shiver to race down that side of her body.

  “How’d you get good? By going down on a lot of women?”

  “That doesn’t excite you?” He snickered against her ribcage, switched to nibbling.

  “No, actually, it doesn’t.”

  “Then you’ll prefer the truth.” He eased his arms beneath her knees as he trailed kisses down her belly. “I’ve had several frank talks with my lesbian friend, Patty.”

  “Oh, please.”

  “It’s true. You’ll be sending her a thank you note after.” He nuzzled the curls on her mound, making her tummy muscles jump. Her hands tightened on the drawer pulls.

  “So arrogant.”

  “The secret is patience.” He found the crease at her hip. “This is a lovely soft spot,” he murmured, pressing it with tender kisses. She felt the brief tickle of his hair against the sensitive skin of her inner thigh, then he ran his hands up and down her inner thighs, parting her legs further.

  Nervous flutters quivered in her belly, made her leg muscles jerk as she considered closing him out, dying from the colossal intimacy he was demanding, but not quite able to bring herself to reject him.

  He shifted, explored her gently with his fingertips, drawing slow circles that didn’t quite satisfy and drew
a little moan from deep in her throat.

  “Oh, Paige, you’re a natural. Every time I do something you like, just make another sound like that and you’ll be calling me your own personal sex god in no time.”

  “That was embarrassment.”

  “That’ll change. Now we’re just going to experiment a little and when we get it right, we’ll get to work. Ready?”

  “No.”

  “Good.”

  And then she felt the heat of his mouth, the flick of his tongue, the weight of expectation, both from him and from her own hidden desire to enjoy this and find out what all the fuss was about. But the fact was, she couldn’t let go like this. It was too personal. Too intimate. Too mortifying.

  Too selfish.

  She had to give him credit though. He had quite a repertoire and a lot of it felt pretty darned good. That thing he’d just done— he did it again and she let out another little hum of enjoyment, realized she’d done it the first time and was doing it again because it felt very, very nice. Not that it was going to do it for her in the long run, but it was a pleasant—

  A shaft of acute pleasure speared through her.

  “Oh, God.” That had been interesting enough to make her forget how awkward she felt. Good thing he’d never be able to duplicate it. “Oh, God.”

  ~ * ~

  She vaguely sensed him moving to rise above her, settling beside her sweaty, panting body. He might have kissed between her breasts or something. He might even have been trembling, but she was shaking so hard it was difficult to say.

  “I’m very sorry to tell you,” she said breathlessly, “that I’ve never had a graphic conversation with a gay man.”

  “Don’t worry about it. You do fine.” He sounded amused. Smug. Aroused. “And right now I’d rather be inside you.”

  “Okay.”

  “I’m pretty turned on. It could get rough.”

  “You’re my own personal sex god. Do whatever you want.”