He put his hands on her waist, nice and light. “I’m gonna have to touch you a lot for this. If that’s a problem with you, say so now.”
“No problem,” she replied through a fake smile.
“Good. Now start when I do, hold it then come up with me.”
His gaze on hers, he unlocked his knees, kept his hands on her waist as he squatted, knees outward, torso straight—don’t forget dick erect.
Just focus, you idiot!
To his thrill, Joan followed, spread her thighs wide, bent her knees while she kept her hands around the pole. Smells of her reached him, clouded his judgment enough to convince him it’d be okay to squeeze her waist a bit tighter, angle his chest a bit closer. His chin brushed against the back of her head.
Time seemed to stop.
Smells of her hair, nice and clean, scattered his neurons as effectively as the yoga pants had. Heat from her skin spread from his hands to his arms, his chest, triggered a painful cramp in his lower belly, which quivered as he imagined how she’d feel anchored beneath him. With thighs such as hers, she’d squeeze him nice and tight, he was sure. As they reached the lowest point of the squat, her butt stuck up and pressed against his groin. Archer bit down hard.
Oh shit.
Later on, if he were allowed to speak in his own defense, he’d tell the judge, “That’s when it happened, Your Honor. That’s when someone unplugged my brain without my knowledge! That’s when I kissed her the first time.”
Chapter Three
Joan was so shocked she didn’t even say anything when Archer kissed the back of her head. Fire spread to her whole body, not just because her muscles burned with the strain but because the tender brush of lips, even separated by her hair, sent a jolt of adrenaline through her. She froze halfway up the pole, used her hands to yank herself upright. Archer followed her, pressed himself behind her so that she was squeezed between the pole and him. A hard, hot mass pushed in her lower back.
Holy…
His hands still encircled her waist. One of his thumbs rubbed the skin that showed between cami and pants, each small circle the source of pleasure ripples widening and growing, tingling over her skin and enveloping her in a hot and quivering cocoon. The pole rubbed her mons. A sudden and fierce impulse to grind herself against each, pole and hard man behind her, made her thighs twitch.
Behind her, Archer stared into the mirror. His pale eyes above her head shone with a dangerous glint as one of his hands left her waist, traveled down her hip, covered the pole and slowly, excruciatingly slowly, rose back and stopped above hers. He added just a bit of pressure to his hands but the message was loud and it was oh-so clear. He could trap her hand beneath his and there wouldn’t be a thing she could do about it.
Maybe she wouldn’t want to do anything about it either.
Her quick, shallow breaths created foggy circles on the metal tube. His hand squeezed hers harder. Not enough to hurt. Just enough to electrify.
“That’s how you look at the audience,” he whispered. Each word stirred her hair. “You pin them.”
Joan had never felt “pinned” by a guy’s gaze before. Until now.
Because Archer had her trapped right against the pole, each breast swelled on either side. She couldn’t help looking at them rise and fall quickly with each quivering inhalation, each tremulous exhalation.
“Then…then what do you do?” she asked. Was that squeaky voice hers? “When you have them pinned, I mean.”
“You make them pant.”
In the mirror, she watched how his shoulders stood out on either side of hers while his hips barely did. The guy was built. Not like a bodybuilder, more like a swimmer. All shoulders, narrow waist and hips, long, sculpted limbs.
He started moving behind her subtly, almost imperceptibly. In small rotations he gyrated his hips, each apex pressing her against the pole until her blood pressure went south and pushed her IQ down into the single digits. As far as brainpower went right now, she probably ranked between a staple gun and a doorknob.
She had to have him. She had to have him now.
Their gazes met in the mirror and held for several seconds.
Oh, he wants you back.
Wasn’t that a song?
“People think beauty is weak, that it’s passive and delicate,” Archer murmured in her ear. “But it’s not any of those things. Do you know how powerful beauty is?”
Joan really was panting—his lesson worked great. And when he grabbed both her hands in one of his and raised them high on the pole so that she stood with her shaking fists tight around the tube, arms upward at full extension, her breathing nearly doubled. Her vision too!
“Beauty has the ability to make people do crazy, irrational things, just so they can keep it a bit longer, look at it a while longer. Beauty is power and desire, it’s a tool and it’s a weapon. Which are you, Joan?”
“It’s good fortune. Just DNA.”
He shook his head, rolled his hips forward hard, movement that pressed her belly and mons against the pole. Liquid heat spread high between her thighs.
“Someone can be born beautiful and still not make anything with it. Another will have humble DNA, as you say, and leave sighs in his or her wake. It’s what you do with it that counts.”
Well, that’s a theory.
To have this gorgeous man grind himself against her while her hands were way high above her head, triggered all kinds of thrilling images. But frankly, the first thing that popped into her head? Good thing I shaved. Joan chuckled.
“Something funny, Constable Blair?” Archer asked with a pelvic tilt that made her stop breathing.
“Just thinking…fun things.”
“If it’s fun you want, you’ve come to the right place.”
“Ah, so you make this a habit? Sleep with your students? Lots of notches on that pole, eh?” Why did she even ask? She didn’t want to know. It didn’t matter. Right?
Right?
He stopped, put his chin right over her shoulder. “Would it make a difference if I did?”
“No.”
Liar.
“No, it’s not a habit. I don’t sleep with my students. No notches on that pole.”
She held the sigh of relief and felt ashamed for even asking such a stupid question. Chantal wouldn’t be very happy with her. “Don’t ask when you don’t want to know,” she said often.
“I’m a responsible guy too,” Archer went on, his hands alternating between hard and tender. “Are you on the Pill by any chance? I have condoms in the house if not.”
“Better than the Pill, I’m on an implant.”
“I can’t wait ‘til they get that stuff for guys. We always come last. Or first, but not in my case.” He winked.
“Yeah,” she replied through a “there, there” grimace. “You guys have it hard. Unlike us with periods and childbirths.”
He froze behind her, looked hurt for a split second before the teasing gleam in his eyes returned. “Laugh all you want but it’s hard to be a guy. Especially with a body like mine.” He sighed theatrically.
“You’re not a very humble man, are you?”
After a quick snort, Archer left her hands so he could run his down her arms, shoulders, sides and hips. A wave of frisson followed in the wake of his fingers.
“I’m gorgeous, dawlin’. Women, they like me.”
“I’m sure they all do,” she countered while trying to look nonchalant. Why did the notion of his having sex with other women bug her so much? Sex was just a fun bonus, right? What did it matter if he slept with a hundred women at once? He wasn’t her boyfriend or anything. He wasn’t hers.
“I haven’t had complaints about my techniques so far.”
“From your other students, you mean?” Why the hell was she spoiling the moment?
He was silent for a while, looking at her in the mirror. “Don’t get a fat head but I never do this. Have sex with a student, I mean.”
As shameful as it was, Joan felt a bit of r
elief knowing he didn’t screw everything that walked into his studio. Chantal would quickly refer to her Lame-O-Meter for that one.
“You’re a free man.”
“And multi-skilled too. Speaking of skills, stay this way for a bit, okay?”
And she did.
Chantal will have my head.
Archer jogged to the door, locked it and flicked off two of the three switches so only the back row of tiny pot lights in the ceiling remained on. The amber light gave everything a rich, burnished finish. Without looking at it, he hit a button on the CD player.
She’d expected cardio-kick dance, techno beats. Or even jazz for the occasion. So she couldn’t help the snort of laughter when the sound of a violin filled the studio. Classical had never sounded so decadent.
“Hadn’t expected that, huh?” He took his place behind her, lopsided smile just begging to be kissed. “Where was I? Oh, that’s right. There.”
His hands landed moth-light on her hips, traced her waist then slipped lower until he’d cupped her butt in two burning palms. “Very, very nice.”
“Yours isn’t bad either,” she replied through a fake grin. She didn’t feel like smiling but it’d always been her first line of defense. She wasn’t quite sure against what she was trying to defend herself right now.
Insanity, woman, that’s what. You’re making out with your personal trainer whom you’ve met not two hours ago.
Chantal would definitely have her head. Because of course, Joan would spill every crunchy detail. She wouldn’t be able to sit on this one and not wiggle! And Chantal, she could spot a wiggle a mile away.
Archer nodded. “I know. But thanks anyway.”
They shared a quick grin.
“They say men think about sex several times an hour,” Archer said as he raised her butt so he could press himself against her, flexed his long hands for a wider hold. “You’ve been here for two.”
“Women too think about sex often.”
His smile looked rapacious given the dim amber light and pools of shadow below his bangs. “Nature works in wonderful ways.”
Joan closed her eyes when the violin trailed into a plaintive note. She wasn’t big on classical, but with a man such as Archer pressed behind her and a firemen’s pole keeping her there, violin had suddenly taken on quite the wicked trait!
“So you’ve been thinking about sex since I got here?” Not fishing for compliments or anything.
“Just as you have.”
“True.” She’d been admiring his butt nonstop since she’d stepped into the studio.
“Although it’s more than sex I’ve been thinking about.”
“Oh?”
“Anyone can have sex. Part A into part B. That’s too easy. What I love is to make it a performance.”
“Performance?”
“Exactly. You start with a look…” He stopped, squeezed her butt while he stared hard at her in the mirror.
The intensity of his gaze felt concrete, a physical thing, a feather brushing up her leg, a soft breath blowing on her nape. It was mesmerizing. While he continued staring at her, his hands traveled lower to her thighs then back up around her waist, one of them circling in front to encompass her lower belly. He had long hands. The heat of his palm triggered a quiver deep in her gut. He must have felt it for he nodded.
“That’s what you’ll have to do when you perform. Engage all of their senses—except touch.” Archer winked. “If they touch, I’ll break their arms.”
Joan’s chuckle died in her throat as Archer stood back from her, circled the pole so he was facing her while she watched his glorious physique in the mirror. His shoulders bulged when he reached to his waistband, slipped his thumbs inside and rolling his hips, pulled his pants down by tiny increments. Each left her mouth increasingly dryer.
First the waist then the dawn of his nice butt and—oops, there it is—a bit of crack before he lowered his pants and underwear over the finest set of cheeks she’d ever seen on a man, down his thighs twitching with loose strength and fluidity, finally letting them fall around his ankles. He kicked out of them, straightened and twisted his torso so he could check himself out.
“Nice, huh?”
This time, Joan laughed without reserve. “You’re such a tease!”
A wicked smile replaced the thoughtful expression as he studied his ass. “You have no idea.”
He knelt in front of her and Joan swore she saw a peek of his package dangling between his fine, fine thighs, despite the poor light and the fact she was so excited she could’ve fainted dead on the floor. Unlike women, who tended to kneel with their legs together, Archer did so with his knees at shoulders’ width, creating a sort of athletic, hourglass shape.
“Hey, I can’t feel my hands anymore,” she quipped, trying to suppress a nervous laugh.
“I’ll make it worth the discomfort.”
She had no doubt he would.
Before she knew what he was doing, he’d pulled on her yoga pants’ drawstring. “It’s much better when I can touch the skin.”
“Touch all you want, baby” is what she meant to say. Had to be cool, right? What came out was “Um”.
“You don’t want to?” Archer asked, looking up into her face. His eyes had grown serious. The smirk was gone.
“Of course I want to! You just took me by surprise. Resume.”
The naughty grin was back full force this time accompanied by a low rumble in his chest while he deftly slipped a hand past the waistband to help the pants down over her hips. Joan dipped one then the other. He soon lowered her pants down to the floor and flicked them out from underneath each foot. In the mirror her black seamless thong created a sharp contrast against her skin.
“Good brand. Comfortable yet sexy.”
She nudged him playfully in the shoulder with her knee. He just grinned wider.
So there she stood, hanging on a firemen’s pole in a gorgeous stranger’s fitness studio in only her cami and thong while he knelt naked in front of her…
Chantal, eat your heart out!
“Remember the part of the choreography where you hold the pole with one hand, squat quickly and spring back up?”
Joan nodded. She remembered perfectly. She’d have to do this half naked in front of however many people happened to be there the night she’d do her audition. She’d been told amateur nights at The Quicksilver were always packed. Great.
“Look at me and do it.”
“Now you’re the one giving orders.”
“I am your trainer, right?”
Yeah, well, pfft!
Slowly, she lowered her hands, which began to tingle when blood circulation resumed with a vengeance. When she trusted her grip again, she grabbed the pole at waist height, just how he’d shown her earlier, and widening her feet, squatted as fast as she could—rebounded really—and sprang back up. Her gaze never left his in the mirror. Well, except for a quick peek at his cock. It pointed up directly at her. What was a girl supposed to do!
After a few quick breaths, Archer bit his bottom lip. “You have no idea how good that is to a man. That’s power. That’s a weapon. Do it again and this time, look at yourself.”
Awkwardness didn’t begin to describe how Joan felt as she repeated the move, this time looking at herself in the mirror.
Don’t smile, you big goof!
Archer shook his head. “That was bad. You’re having fun, not teasing.”
He stood and came up behind her. His member bobbed enticingly. “That woman in the mirror isn’t Joan Blair. She’s that little devil on your shoulder, you know the one? She tells you to give a good kick at the vending machine for not giving you your chocolate bar, she’s the one whispering dirty things in your ear when you check out a man despite the fact he has a wedding band on his hand.” Archer stopped, reached around her and placed the tip of both middle fingers on each I of her No Pain No Gain cami. “She’s the one who bought that shirt and who’s letting me do this.”
Joan mo
aned unabashedly when he circled her nipples, hardening them, making them tight and tender.
“Now do it again, but this time, let your little devil come out and play with mine.”
For the life of her, Joan felt as though she’d just had an epiphany. She knew all about that little devil perched on her shoulder, only she’d never listened to her before, preferring to let her talk up a storm and still not listen to the temptations and urges. Urges such as checking out men with wedding bands on. Not that she’d do anything with a married man, but just the thought of looking at something forbidden, of imagining the hurried, intense, illicit sex had ruined more than one set of panties.
Let the little devil come out and play?
Why the hell not!
Joan seized the pole one-handed, stared at herself, gave herself no wiggle room and time to chicken out of something that could be very embarrassing or a total dud. With all the intensity, wickedness and little devil she could put into it, she unlocked her knees, bounced against her heels and snapped back to standing. The effect was immediate.
She’d just looked at herself as if she were someone else, someone watching, wanting, craving for a taste that she would deny. Courting with herself. It was a total turn-on!
And it must have been for Archer as well for he trapped her hips, whirled her around against the pole and pushed her back against it. Eyes narrowed, mouth glistening, he dove for hers.
She received his initial kiss with a gasp for the intensity stole her breath. It truly did! No man had ever looked as desperate to crush his mouth to hers. As though he’d been denying himself for years. She’d only just met him.
His tongue at times fierce and demanding, his lips and teeth even more so, Archer accentuated the pressure until Joan’s mouth throbbed then he’d grow gentle, trace her chin, cheeks, and murmur things she couldn’t understand. Hands made for it gripped her butt and dug in. Joan replied in kind, biting him, licking his throat, making a big mess of his glorious black hair, which she raked back, fisted, stroked, all the while keeping her pelvis tilted forward to receive more of his solid front. Hot and rock-hard, his cock pressed downward along her belly.
He kissed his way down, teased her nipples through the cami, even bit the fabric but not the skin underneath and pulled so he could let it snap back against her, and when he reached her thong, he bit the front of it, pulled it down a few inches. Joan reached back and slipped a thumb in to help Archer but he shook his head.
Tease Page 4