by Alice Gaines
“You’re tight, princess.” His voice came out strained. “Good thing you gave me head earlier, or I’d come right this minute.”
“Don’t you dare.”
“Why? You want some of this.” Grasping her hips, he began to move. Deep thrusts that pushed her against the edge of the hot tub. She grabbed the rim in her fists to hold herself steady under the assault. Complete possession. She’d never had anything like this. Hadn’t dared to believe such sensations were possible outside of books. But here she was, taking everything he gave.
He didn’t toy with her clitoris, thank heaven. That would have made her climax too soon. Yes, she could come again, and she would, but this moment contained magic she’d never get back. The first time she’d coupled with a man the way her creator and nature had intended.
Instead, he kept moving, driving harder and faster. Her spirit soared out over the city, and she could have shouted, “Look at what I’m doing. I’m having sex, down and dirty. Just for the fun of it. Just because I want it.”
“I’m getting hot,” Bobby said. “You feel so damned good.”
“Don’t stop, Bobby,” she said.
“I’m not going anywhere until you’re done with me, but . . . oh shit . . . I am not going to last.”
He bent over her again, and this time, his fingers went right to her hot button. When he rubbed her, all the reasons she hadn’t wanted it flew right out of her mind. Her mind blanked out everything except the thrusting of his cock and the throbbing of her clitoris. Her arousal reached a new plane—a universe of blinding light and pleasure so intense it filled every cell in her body. The orgasm coiled low in her belly and spread like wildfire through her. As he continued to plunge into her, her muscles tightened around him. A voice cried out. Her own, while her sex broke into convulsions.
His shout joined hers, and he straightened, his fingers digging into the flesh of her hips. After a few more savage thrusts, he stiffened. He’d come with her, and the knowledge stayed inside her as the storm of her orgasm waned and moved away. Resting her head against the rim of the tub, she took a few deep breaths while her pussy continued to grip him softly.
He groaned. “That was one beautiful fuck, princess.”
Of course he’d say that. He was paid to, wasn’t he? Still, the declaration came as part of the whole package, and she’d enjoy it as much as she had the sex.
Chapter Three
BOBBY WOULDN’T LET her cover herself, so there she lay on the huge bed without a stitch on, and every time she reached for the sheet or comforter, he wagged a finger under her nose.
“If you’re cold, we’ll turn up the heat,” he said. “I want to look at you.”
He had a point, more or less. After everything they’d done, she could hardly feel shy around him. Still, nakedness for its own sake was an odd sensation. It made her vulnerable, as though she’d given him permission to know her in ways that had nothing to do with sex. He seemed perfectly comfortable without any clothes on as he scratched his belly and stretched.
She snuggled up against his chest. “Do you like what you do?”
“Beats anything else I have the talent for,” he said.
“Do you ever . . . that is . . . men can’t always . . .”
“Get it up?” he asked. “I’m pretty good at that.”
She could hardly have failed to notice that. Even now, after two orgasms, his cock wasn’t completely flaccid. It lay thick against his thigh.
“What if you get a client who isn’t . . . well . . . beautiful?” she asked.
“All women are beautiful.” He kissed the top of her head. “Some more than others.”
“Do you really believe that?”
“Are you asking if I think you’re beautiful?” He slid a finger under her chin and tipped her face up.
She didn’t answer. The admission would be too damned embarrassing. Her blush did it for her, though, as her cheeks grew warm. She’d be a dark pink any minute.
“You’re a knockout, princess. Everything about you is adorable.”
That wasn’t exactly what she’d meant, but she’d take it. So far in her life, she’d never managed more than pretty or cute. Maybe beauty would come later.
“I love it when you get embarrassed,” he said. “You turn pink right up to the tips of your ears.”
“That’s really sexy, I’m sure.”
“Damned straight it is. That’s the same color you turn just before you come.”
“You’ve been behind me both times I climaxed,” she said. “How do you know what color I turn?”
“Like I said. The tips of your ears.”
“Oh, God.” She groaned and buried her face under his chin.
“What are you afraid of all of a sudden?” He eased her away from him and stared into her face.
“It’s not fear.” What a lie. Of course it was. How could a man like Bobby find her anything but ignorant and clumsy? He must have more sophisticated women all the time. Women like Madeline. Beautiful, poised, and self-assured. For all she knew, he did have Madeline from time to time. How could she measure up to that?
“Now, you see, we have to get you over that,” he said. “You have a lot of sexual power about you. You only need to find it.”
“Thank you,” she said, sitting up.
“You don’t believe me, do you?”
“I’m sure you’re being sincere . . .”
“But.” He sat up next to her. “Your next word was going to be ‘but.’”
“I’ve hardly experienced sex.” God, had she really admitted that? “Aside from my marriage, of course.”
“You’re a natural, then.”
“Come on, Bobby, we both know you’re paid to say that.”
“I wouldn’t lie to you, princess.”
She didn’t answer.
“I mean it.” He turned her face so she had to look into his blue eyes. “You believe me, don’t you?”
“I do.”
“You sure? Because if you think I’m bullshitting you, I’m not your man.”
“I do. Really.” She rested her hand on his thigh. In the normal way of things, that wouldn’t be an intimate gesture but one of gratitude and reassurance among lovers. Given that they were both naked and her fingers landed only inches from his cock, it had a whole other significance. Indeed, he became more fully erect.
She removed her hand immediately. “God, you’re impossible.”
In the hours she’d known him, his grin had become even more deliciously wild than it had seemed in his picture, and he gave her the full blast now. “You made me this way.”
Before his grin could lead to anything more sinful, a knock came on the outer door.
“Room service,” a man’s voice called.
“I didn’t order anything,” Cassandra said.
“I did.” Bobby jumped from the bed and, without putting on so much as a robe, went out into the sitting room. Cassandra wasn’t going to lie around naked and wait for a server to come strolling into the room. She quickly got up and dashed into the bathroom, pushing the door nearly shut to create privacy while still allowing her to listen for sounds from the other side.
After a moment, dishes clattered in the bedroom, and a tray settled somewhere. There were no sounds of conversation, though, and she stuck her nose around the door to find Bobby propped up on the bed holding a plate in one hand. The other hand held a hot dog in a bun; it was already missing a few bites.
She stepped into the bedroom. “Hot dogs?”
“I don’t eat fish eggs.” As he took a huge bite, mustard and relish fell onto the plate in his hand.
“Is there one for me?”
“Are you kidding? I ordered two for each of us.”
“You can eat my second one.” She sat on the bed and studied the contents of the tray, which he’d set on the bedside table near him. Aside from the hot dogs and various condiments, there was also a covered chafing dish and a couple of mugs of beer. A covered crystal bowl sto
od nearby, and he’d brought the chocolate inside. No sign of the pound cake, though.
He put one of the hot dogs, along with its bun, onto a plate. “Chili?”
“Not on my diet.” But then neither were hot dogs. Or beer. Or chocolate.
“Well, then, here you go.” After removing the lid of the chafing dish, he used the spoon inside to nearly bury her hot dog with chili. It did smell good, and she hadn’t eaten much of anything all day. Nerves had kept her stomach jumpy. Now, after all the fabulous sex, she could have eaten the comforter if someone had poured some of the chocolate sauce on it. So she took the plate from him and dug in.
She’d loved the champagne earlier, but in its earthy way, this was much more decadent. Laden with calories and not a whole lot of nutrition, the lowly hot dog bordered on sinful when covered with chili and beans. In fact, she’d seldom tasted anything so delicious. Before she knew what she was doing, she’d inhaled half of her food and was well on her way toward gobbling the whole thing up.
“I do love to watch a woman eat,” he said.
She had to laugh. “You call this eating? I call it making a mess.”
“A pretty mess. You have chili on your nose.” He leaned over and kissed it off. “Yum.”
“You’re silly.”
“Not at all. Keep eating. It’s a major turn on.”
The man had to be made of testosterone if he could become aroused again. Perfectly suited to his job, and yet for their time together, he made it easy to believe his response was all about her. That she really was the special woman who could get his engine humming like no other. He bit his lip as he watched her finish the hot dog, his gaze never leaving her mouth.
When she finished, she held up her messy hand. “I don’t suppose you ordered any napkins.”
“Don’t need ’em.” Grasping her wrist, he licked the chili off her palm and then sucked on her fingers. “Now for dessert.”
“Does that involve chili, too?”
“Nope. The other two food groups: fruit and butterfat.” He removed the cover of the crystal bowl to reveal strawberries slathered with whipped cream. More decadence, more calories. Perfect for eating in bed with a lover. He selected a berry with its own cloud of cream and brought it to her lips. When she bit down, the fruit’s sweetness danced on her tongue, followed by the richness of its topping.
Bobby quickly swooped down to capture the other half of the strawberry with his teeth, and soon they were sharing a kiss more luscious than any of the food they’d shared. When he broke it off, she returned the favor with a second berry from the bowl, offering it to him and then stealing a treat from his lips.
“Sweet,” he said as he took a third berry and placed it in the hollow above her collar bone. He ate that, too, nibbling at her skin and then lapping off the cream with his tongue.
“Great American chow,” he said. “Hot dogs, chili, and strawberry shortcake.”
“There isn’t any shortcake,” she said.
“Sure there is. You’re the cake. I’m going to eat my dessert off you.”
“And the chocolate sauce?”
He brought his lips to her ear. “Post-dessert dessert.”
“It sounds messy,” she said.
“The messiest. By the time I’m finished with you, you’ll be frosted like a birthday cake.”
“You have to be kidding.”
He lifted his head and gave her the evil glare. “Do I look like I’m kidding?”
“You’ll get the sheets dirty.” Lord, why was she even discussing this with him? The idea was insane.
“I’ll be careful.”
She held up her hands to ward him off. “I might want to stay in this bed for a while. I will not get it all smeared with berries.”
“Oh, all right.” He heaved the sigh of the put-upon male. “I’ll get a towel from the bathroom and put it under you. We’ll get that dirty, instead.”
“You’re really going to do this?”
“You bet your ass, princess.” He climbed off the bed and went into the bathroom.
“A towel’s not big enough,” she called after him. “Get a bath sheet.”
“Yeah. One of the really big towels.”
She flopped onto her back and stared up at the canopy. What in blue blazes was he doing? Here she was—an adult woman—about to let a man eat dessert off her body. She’d imagined any number of things that would happen once she crossed the threshold to Club Ecstasy, and she’d done a few of them. She hadn’t expected, well, just plain fun. She couldn’t have guessed that was exactly what she needed.
Bobby returned, a bath sheet draped over his arm. He scooted up onto the bed and spread the huge towel out. “Be a good girl and lift your hips.”
She’d more or less agreed to this, so why not? With her feet flat against the mattress, she pushed herself up and let him slide the bath sheet beneath her. When she lowered herself, the plush terry cloth cradled her rump.
He stretched out beside her and trailed his fingertips over her belly. “Soft, beautiful cake. I’ll bet it’s delicious.”
“You’re silly.”
“You’re edible.” He picked a berry from the bowl and laid it on a spot high up on her chest. He followed that with another strawberry laid a bit lower down. A third went between her breasts.
“They’re cold,” she said.
“They’re not going to be there long.” He continued laying a path of cream-covered strawberries down the center of her torso, gazing intently at his handiwork. “Now for the feast.”
He started at the top and worked downward, taking each berry one at a time. Occasionally, his teeth scraped her skin gently, but his tongue always followed to soothe.
For an outrageous proposition—eating off her body—the exercise turned out to be unbelievably sensual, and she closed her eyes to savor the pressure of his mouth. He did make a mess as he went, now to the berry between her breasts and then over her ribs. The fruit smeared into the cream, and both spread over her flesh. By the time he got to the last berry, she felt sticky and vulnerable and alive. And aroused all over again. When she opened her eyes, she found him sitting next to her with the small fondue pot of melted chocolate in his hand.
“Okay, then, the post-dessert dessert,” he said.
“Bobby, what are you going to do with that?”
“I’m going to coat my favorite part of your body and then lick it off.” He held the pot over her.
“Oh, no. You’re not pouring that on my . . .”
One shaggy brow rose. “Your what, princess?”
“My mound.”
He lowered the chocolate toward her thighs. “You know a better word than that.”
“My sex.”
“Nuh-huh. It starts with P,” he said.
“All right, all right. My pussy. Are you satisfied?”
“Not until I’ve eaten it.” He slowly tipped the sauce until a drop of chocolate formed at the lip.
“You’ll burn me,” she shouted.
“Nope. I turned the heat off ages ago.” At that, he poured in earnest, and a trickle of chocolate went into her pussy hairs. He’d told the truth about its temperature. It didn’t burn, but it would turn her thatch into a sugary tangle.
She might have argued the point with him except for the fact that he spread her legs and positioned himself between them with his head at the apex of her thighs. Then he licked her lips from the bottom to the top, his tongue lingering on her clitoris.
He had an expert touch with that tiny organ. Still sensitive from her previous orgasms, it needed little coaxing to come back to life. He worked it gently at first, no more than fluttering his tongue over it. Then as her arousal grew, he pressed more firmly, urging her on into full-blown need.
Lying back, she tangled her fingers in his hair and savored the movements of his head that gave such incredible pleasure. “I can’t believe I’m doing this. Again.”
He lifted his head. “You should have great sex every day. Several times.
You deserve it.”
Then he went back to eating her, and she closed her eyes and gave herself over to the storm rising inside her. Hot currents flowed through her, setting fire to nerve endings still hyperaware from their earlier coupling. Her mind went back to those images, creating a fantasy out of reality: Bobby with his hand beneath her skirt, touching her through her panties. Making her come only minutes after they’d met. His beautiful cock in her mouth while she’d made him helpless with lust. His erection entering her from behind, so big she’d had to stretch to accept him.
Now this. His tongue pushing, pushing. Making her insane. Too much, and yet she needed every second, every brush of his tongue. Her hips moved on their own, lifting her upward, and he grasped them, holding her against his face while the world went red and then blinding white. She crashed through the barrier and broke into orgasm. Different from the others he’d given her and just as beautiful. The universe ceased to exist for a long moment, and when it returned, it brought madness. Her sex spasmed wildly for several seconds and then settled into an easier rhythm as she coasted back to reality.
When she finished, he released her hips and moved up beside her to pull her against his body. “Now, that’s dessert.”
“This is certainly the most interesting meal I’ve ever had.” She opened her eyes to look at him.
“And I’ll bet you’ve eaten in the finest restaurants in the city,” he said.
“And in France and anywhere else my husband and I traveled.”
“You should come over to Oakland some time,” he said. “We know how to barbecue.”
“Oakland? Is that where you’re from?”
“Oaktown, Bump City, that’s me. You ever been to Oakland? It’s just across the bridge.”
“I’ve been to Piedmont a couple of times.”
He laughed. “You would.”
Everyone in the bay area knew that Piedmont was an enclave of the wealthy and the even wealthier surrounded by the grit that made up Oakland. Of course, he’d practice some reverse snobbery. Still, given the fact that the city lay only about ten miles away from where they now sat, she might have visited it a few times.