Turn It Up

by Inez Kelley

  “Like that?”

  “Yeah. This is kind of nice, actually.”

  “Told you so.” Her taunt made him chuckle and he relaxed more under her nonsexual ministrations. She pushed and prodded each inch until tension eased from his body. She kneaded the lines of his shoulders, sliding up onto his neck before gliding down his deltoids to the small of his back.

  “You’re good at this.” His murmur was muffled by his arms and the alleviation of his anxiety.

  “I took a class, thought about becoming a masseuse. But my hands are too small to do this all day.”

  “They feel the right size to me. Right there. Oh, yeah.” Grinding the mound of her thumb into the line just above his boxer band, she smiled at his groan.

  She’d bet anything Bastian didn’t talk while making love. Maybe whispered sweet nothings, but he wasn’t the type for dirty talk. Even the hidden dirty talkers slipped a word here or there. Not Bastian. He was too proper for that, but he would moan when pleased, gasp when delighted. The remembered resonance of his voice around the campfire shot through her, want festering in her belly. How would he sound in climax?

  So far, she’d kept her massage clinical and relaxing. Part of her, the sweet part, wanted to continue, to just ease him into blissful contentment. The other part, the vixen, wanted to bring him to the very edge of desire until he pleaded for release. His skin beneath hers did illicit things to her libido, things she’d never before allowed herself to recognize with him.

  A hug or a kiss, a pat on the back or a held hand were just part of her friendship with Bastian. Knowing she could have more, was allowed to feel more, had heightened her senses, elevating her response to simple touches. His back beneath her hand sent shivers up her spine. His thighs between hers made her knees quiver. Tempting him was becoming an exercise in controlling herself.

  “I’m going to do your legs, now. Just giving you a warning.”

  Sliding between his spread knees, the oil dripped to his thighs and he flinched as her fingers skirted his boxer legs. Using the same professional motions, she rubbed and kneaded, pulling the stiffness from his body one inch at a time. Slow breaths showed he had let go of his trepidation and was drifting toward sleep.

  Darkness fell completely, the pale lamplight glistening on his skin. She’d chosen a light oil scented with clove and orange. The pure masculine scent was rich but not cloying, with just enough of a sensual odor to tease. It also wasn’t greasy, soaking into his skin but allowing the easy glide of flesh on flesh. She considered slipping her fingers deeper between his thighs, into the heated vee beneath maroon cotton. But she’d promised not to and wouldn’t violate his trust.

  She smirked. That didn’t mean she couldn’t play.

  Climbing astride his behind once more, Charlie capped the oil and dropped it by her knee. She splayed her hands at his waist then ran them up his back in one long continuous stroke. At his shoulders, she leaned down, pressing her breasts against him. Her hands trailed down his biceps. When her lips fell on his nape, his back stiffened once more beneath her. The oil flavored his skin slightly as her tongue skimmed his shoulder.

  “Charlie.”

  “Shh, I’m not finished yet.” Whispered into his spine, her words carried her kisses. She tasted each part of his back from the curve of his neck to the plane of his shoulders and lower. Her nipples touched and teased along his skin. The taste of his skin fanned her desire, and her panties grew warm and damp. Sliding down his body, she lay on top of him, the back of his thighs clenching against her stomach. The smooth flesh of his lower back quivered under her hot breath and she blew just to watch him shiver.

  She kept her fingers broad-spread as her lips caressed the valley of his spine. In plain shamelessness, she climbed back and circled her hips, riding the hard muscles of his ass. Reaching behind, she let her fingers trail up his inner thighs, tensing muscles she’d worked to loosen.

  “Charlie.” His voice carried a strained warning.

  “Roll over.”

  He stilled under her palms. “No.”

  “Come on, a full body massage means full body, back and front.”

  “Let’s just skip that part, okay?”

  Seductive delight filled her. Sliding her hands down his arms once more, she firmly darted her tongue along his ear. Her slick hands caressed his forearms, noting the bunched muscles. “Turn over.”

  “I have the hard-on from hell right now. I’m not rolling over.”

  Tongue swirling along his shoulder blade, she kept her voice soft. “A very sexy doctor once told me it was a normal human reaction in a man to prolonged intimate touches. No touching below cotton and nothing happens unless we both want it. Trust me.”

  “I will get you back for this.” Under her mouth, his ribs shuddered with his deep exhale before she felt him move. She shifted her weight to one knee to give him room before settling back across his hips. The hard ridge of his erection nestled into the junction of her thighs. He shocked her with exactly how hard he was. The shocks jolted from her moist center to her spine.

  His eyes squeezed shut, his face darkened with a deep flush and his hands fisted at his sides. Lust shook through her, and she ached to rock along his length. His jaw clenched with his growl. “Do it. While I still have some control.”

  Almost belligerent, his words begrudged her wish. Charlie chose to stay silent, to allow him to suffer in awkwardness as she gripped the oil bottle with trembling fingers. She was too concerned with tamping down her own urges. Rather than drizzle his skin, she pooled a small amount in her palm and rubbed her hands together, the slick sucking sound taunting in the dim light. The heady fragrance of cloves and orange mingled with barely concealed desire.

  It was obvious he wanted her, knew her body was his with a single kiss, but still he held back. Once again, Bastian proved he wanted her in totality.

  Careful to move only her arms, she gripped his shoulders and worked the slickness down his chest in slow, soothing circles. His stomach tightened as her thumbs traced light concentric loops. This massage was not relaxing although the motions were the same as before. Yearning blocked the tranquility, brewing, growing, waiting for a break in the wall to pounce. She needed him to break, to take her, show her how to love him, how he wanted her to love him.

  He just fisted his hands tighter.

  A twitch formed along his jaw as she shifted back to dip into his navel. The move tugged his boxers down. He didn’t seem to have noticed. He hadn’t opened his eyes once, and she used surprise to her advantage by drawing her finger along the skin just above the maroon edge. A muscle she hadn’t massaged jumped between her thighs.

  Enough play. Charlie braced her hands on either side of his head and brought her mouth to his. His tongue greeted hers in hunger. Rocking her hips forward brought his hands from the coverlet to her thighs with a frantic clutch. Before her hips could find a rhythm, his firm grip stopped her, holding her still as his mouth stroked hers.

  The kiss deepened, each feasting on the other as his hands kept her motionless. A buried ache pounded as she pressed firmer into him, seeking relief. His eyes flew open as he pulled his mouth from hers. A dazed citrine fire colored his gaze. The awe in his voice electrified her.

  “You’re wet.”

  “A normal human reaction in a woman who is intimately touching a man for a prolonged period of time.” Her intentioned sauciness was lost. She was more than wet, she was panting for his touch.

  A mischievous gleam sparked to life as he loosened one hand from her hip. “I just realized I didn’t make any promises about staying away from cotton.”

  His fingers slicked over her damp panties where they pressed against him. His other hand cupped her neck, bringing her mouth back to his. Freed from his grip, her hips moved over his, sliding along the hardness she craved. His moan danced with hers.

  The coverlet was warm from his body as her back sank into the softness beneath him. Whether he’d rolled her or she’d pulled him she wasn’t sur
e. She only knew his mouth blazed a scorching tattoo on hers and his body enflamed her senses. Bastian arched away, just enough to ease his body alongside hers, never taking his lips from her mouth. The sweet weight between her thighs was gone and only emptiness remained. She whimpered around his tongue. Control was his. Need was hers.

  “Payback time.” He chuckled.

  His name was a sigh as his lips sank to her throat. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, bowing up into his body. Orange and clove essence filled her nose and she burned, a fiery flame starving for fuel only he could provide. The want licked along her bones as his mouth warmed the curve of her breast. Her seduction had been turned and now she was being seduced.

  Hands that healed made her hurt as they cradled her breasts, his tongue darting from one tip to the other. He captured one nipple, drawing it deeply between his lips, and a cry ripped through her.

  Thick damp hair trickled between shaky fingers. How did he instinctually know what she liked? Did he comprehend the delight he gave as he tongued her peaks? She thrust into his mouth, and the curl of her spine allowed for his arm to slide beneath her, bring her closer. Before a shudder could eke out, he left her tingling nipples, dipping to the deep valley between them. Against her leg, his cock teased her, pressing firmly, but gave no relief to the firestorm that built inside her. Her hands dropped lower but he caught them, tugging them above her head as his mouth dropped to the curve of her neck.

  How had he hid such a wicked streak of playfulness from her for so many years? Bastian was a sexual tease, drawing out each sensation until her body vibrated with need. Easing her hands from his grasp, Charlie traced the line of his shoulder, fingers delving into the hollows of his collarbone before skimming down his chest. Their breaths mated as his tongue sought the deepest recesses of her mouth. Wet and pulsing, her clit ached in frustration.

  “Touch me.”

  Two simple words, they halted his mouth. He took hers again, one hot palm stroking down her stomach. Skimming over tiny panties, his fingers traced over the slick fabric. A gasp burst out and she thrust into his hand.

  “I love you.”

  The barest whisper on her skin, his words jabbed at her heart. His lips nibbled at hers, tenderness more erotic than oil. If love had a flavor, Charlie grew drunk with it, relishing each drop from his kiss. She wanted to crawl inside his embrace, to bathe in his touch.

  The sweetness melded with fire, and the inferno erupted to searing passion as his fingers slipped under her panties and into satin-drenched layers. She breathed his name on a harsh exhale as he grazed her throbbing clit. Her thighs parted more, hips bucking to his hand, eager to ease the building emptiness he increased with each stroke. Her body quivered against his fingers. His tongue traced her jaw before stealing inside her panting mouth.

  She wanted to beg him but couldn’t find the breath. Her plea never touched air but he heard it and circled the tight bud, tweaking sensations like tiny tinder sparks. It grew, centering in a rapid staccato that engulfed her mind. Her muscles clenched in building release. Her arms trembled, pulling him closer. Firmer caresses propelled her higher, just to the precipice, and held her there, luxuriating in her agonized wait.

  “Marry me?”

  His pleading words stopped her heart. Now? He was asking her now? Poised at the tip of climax and he wanted her to think? Her lips parted but no sound came. She had no answer. Her silence closed his lids, sorrow tingeing his face even as he took her mouth in promise.

  One firm touch of his thumb and she exploded, a bittersweet burst of what might have been. Ripples of pleasure fought waves of grief, wrenching a keening wail from her throat as her body vaulted. She flew too fast and hard without an anchor. Blindly, she clung to him, nails biting into his shoulders. He held her. Bastian would always hold her when she was weakest.

  Her cry faded to a whimper in his arms and she snuggled against his chest, trembling with release. His hold tightened. The emptiness lingered, just moving higher, where she imagined her heart would beat if she hadn’t given it to him. He asked too much, too soon, too swiftly for her timid heart.

  Not sex, but making love was what he demanded of her. Did he know that she loved him with every breath? She’d loved him for years but could only now permit the feeling to be acknowledged. New love this strong scared her. Or was it old love realized? Could he understand she needed the physical before the emotional would release? How could she prove to him he wasn’t some faceless man in the dark? Charlie wanted to make love with him, she just didn’t know how. She never had.

  Charlie shifted, reaching for him. Bastian moved away. The few inches he put between them spoke volumes as he caught her searching hands.

  “No.”

  “I want to.”

  “I don’t.” His voice, colder than ice, coated her with numbness. “If all I wanted was an orgasm, I’d take care of it myself. I don’t need you for that.”

  Angry shock blanketed her as he rolled to the side of the bed and sat blowing out long lines of air. He pushed the hair out of his eyes before shaking his head. “You don’t get it, do you? I’m not looking for a quick tumble with you.”

  “Oh, I get it.” She jackknifed up behind him. His sanctimonious virginal crap was getting old. “You’re pissed because you want what you want right now. You turned everything upside down and I’m supposed to go, ‘Oh gee, how nice,’ and meekly fall into a bridal procession. I can’t,” she spat. “You’ve had God knows how long to get used to the idea of us. I’ve had what, a few days?”

  He spun. “Enough time to try to get into bed with me every five minutes, to block your feelings with sex, to hide behind them.”

  “Wait, which one of us just had their hands in my panties? That would be you, Einstein. So don’t tell me about using sex to get what I want. And what the hell was that ‘marry me’ shit in at the end? Did you think I was so far gone I’d say yes just to get an orgasm?”

  Bastian shifted his jaw. “I don’t know. It just felt right. We feel right.”

  “So let’s do it.”

  “I don’t want sex!”

  “I do! It feels good. But right now, I don’t feel good with you.” The mattress bounced as she leaped from it, snatching her shorts and yanking them over wet thighs. This was what frightened her. Love made people nasty, made them hurt each other and lash out. She could talk to Bastian her friend about anything. She couldn’t tell this man what she felt, how he confused her with things she’d dared not dream about.

  “You felt more than good a few minutes ago with me. But that’s what you wanted, safe and shallow.”

  His sarcasm bit at her and she bit back. She fisted her hands on her hips, letting the shirt hang at her side. “Get off your high horse. This is me. I know all about the tech in radiology and the bartender with the big boobs. You’ve got no room to talk about shallow sexual encounters, Saint Sebastian. It’s not like you’ve been married to every woman you’ve screwed.”

  He growled, a totally foreign sound from his lips to her ears. “Damn it, you know what I mean. I need to be more than a notch in your bedpost.”

  “You’re moving too fast.”

  “Too fast?” Eyes wide, he faced her, his erection lost to anger. “Who wants who naked?”

  “Who wants who in white? Me in white is a joke.” Floundering emotions rushed her mouth, pouring out with no thread of thought. “If I don’t know it, I can’t give it. I never had it to know what to do. I’m not the wearing-pearls type and I don’t know how to roast a turkey.”

  He stared at her for a long tense moment but her rant had run its course, and she had nothing else to throw at him. Confusion blended with irritation on his face, angling his brows and dropping his jaw. “Jesus, you’re not making any sense. There’s no talking to you when you’re like this. I’m taking a shower.”

  Furious waves licked at her as he passed. “You just took a shower.”

  “I need another!”

  The door slam shook the walls. Charlie
pulled her shirt over her head and grabbed her bag, intent on stalking out of the room. The rush of water in the other room insulated him from her rage but did nothing for her mood. When she and Bastian argued, it got loud, that was nothing new. It rarely happened but when it did, she fumed for hours and he brooded. Her feet stopped on the threshold.

  This was their first argument as more than friends. How did that change things? Was there some protocol she needed to follow? Her brain told her to talk to him as she always had, tell him why he scared her now when he never had before. Her heart wanted to flee, to escape more angry words. Charlie decided to listen to both but she wasn’t ready to sweet-talk him.

  Her bare feet thudded on the wood floor. Thrusting the bathroom door open, she marched to the dark green shower curtain and yanked it back, two metal rings tearing the fabric with a sharp rip.

  Bastian’s back was a smooth plane of gooseflesh as he braced on his palms against the wall. The cold water rained down on his head, sluicing over shoulders she’d just kissed. A fine chill mist peppered her face. He didn’t turn or acknowledge her intrusion other than the muscles of his bare ass tightening.

  Grit struck the tile as he snarled, “Out, Charlie.”

  “In a minute,” she snapped. “You need to learn something. Your bedside manner sucks. I don’t handle ultimatums well. If I decide to marry you, it’ll be because I want to, not because you made me by dangling a carrot-shaped orgasm in front of me. There’s a hell of a lot I’ve done in my life, but I’ve never whored myself out to any man and I certainly won’t do it for a gold band. What just happened meant something to me but you’re making me feel cheap. I will not allow you or any man to do that. Stay out of my bed if it makes you happy, but do not assume that’ll make a hell of a difference in my choice. Batteries are cheap. I don’t need you for an orgasm.”

  The framed picture of a schooner falling from the force of her door slam made her feel marginally better.