“Just a minute,” Liv murmured on a suffocated breath, her vagina pulsing so hard the desperate ache slid all the way up her spine and spiked into her brain, his idea of dessert, his outrageous desirability and magnetic appeal making her unstrung and ravenous when she was never ravenous. “I’m not sure I like… being… out of control,” she gasped.
“Sure you do.”
“Screw you,” she breathed, pissed at his casual assurance. She should have listened to her voice of reason downstairs and kept walking when she had the chance. Now she wasn’t so sure she could.
“Hey. I’m barely holding it together, too,” he gruffly retorted. But rather than explain, he put his hand over her mouth-the male answer to baffling doubts. Abruptly dipping his head, he opened her dewy cleft with his fingertips and ran his tongue up her slick tissue with delicacy and finesse, with perfect GPS know-how in terms of nerve locations. He could have been thoughtfully arranging a fantasy dessert to best effect, so exacting was the placement of his tongue and fingers. As though he knew to perfection how to turn her on-or maybe the scores of women before her had been a universal sisterhood when it came to getting off this way.
In due course, when her labia-major and minor-had been excited to a frenzied nicety, he turned his attention to her clit, and if being out of control had once been an issue, it no longer was.
Complete and absolute sensation took precedence.
Carte blanche, as it were, on the road to ecstasy.
For the next blissful interval only Liv’s breathy moans and orgasmic cries punctuated the silence of the loft. Jake deftly brought her to climax once, then twice, and lifting his head slightly, he paused, waiting for some cue about a possible third time.
Stabbing her fingers through his thick hair, she jerked his head back.
Definitely a cue. He got back down to business.
And Liv gave herself up to raw, over-the-edge, soul-stirring rapture that insinuated itself into every sensitive, greedy nook and cranny, every rapt nerve and throbbing bit of flesh previously unaccustomed to such neon-lit carnal splendor.
Not that she was currently in the right frame of mind to consider that past discrepancy.
For his part, Jake found Liv’s total abandon appealing. That she was completely genuine in a world given increasingly to spin and pretense held a distinctly down-home charm. Or perhaps it was disarming only in contrast to his glitterati world where poseurs were the norm.
Not that any of his philosophical reflections were relevant up against his increasing randiness. And just as soon as darling Livvi came again, he was going to replace his tongue with his cock and blast off.
“Oh God, oh God, oh God-oh God,” she panted.
Perfect timing, he thought, gently sucking her clit as her third orgasm ripped through her vagina. She was definitely on some kind of hair trigger. Not that he was complaining when it would soon be his turn. Although he knew better than to stop what he was doing until her last little sigh died away. Even then, he gave her time to return to the real world before easing back and resting on his elbows.
“You’re way too good,” she breathed, glancing down at him from under her lashes. “I’m writing off Shelly tonight.”
He liked that she didn’t ask. He particularly liked that her plans matched his. He’d written off Shelly a long time ago. “I was hoping you’d stay,” he said with a smile, “seeing how it’s my turn now.”
“Definitely. After that last glorious orgasm, I owe you. Any special instructions?” she waggishly inquired.
“In my current purist frame of mind,” he murmured, coming up on his knees and reaching for a condom, “all I want is the feel of your hot cunt closing around my cock. Say a couple hundred times.”
She gave him a sunny smile. “I’m really, really glad I stopped by.”
He glanced up as he ripped open a foil packet, a smile slowly forming on his finely modeled mouth. “Believe me, I couldn’t have asked for a better wine merchant. ” He unrolled the condom over his throbbing cock, snapped it in place, and, placing the flat of his hands on either side of her arms, smoothly dropped between her widespread legs.
It was a seriously unforgettable sensation, he decided a moment later, as he glided inside her soft, slick warmth, her cunt’s tightness conforming to his hard-on with a highly provocative, all-absorbing reluctance. His toes curled, a thin film of sweat appeared on his forehead, and only with sheer will did he resist his body’s inclination to enter her at ramming speed. But by the end, he was champing at the bit, more impatient than usual, more frenzied, and when he finally bottomed out, only then did he notice her tautness. “Christ,” he muttered, instantly pulling back. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
“You didn’t.” A soft almost inaudible sound.
He met her gaze, his brows rising faintly in query.
Her nostrils flared, and it took her a moment to find her breath. “I don’t actually believe in karma, but the earth moved back there.”
“No shit,” he grunted. “And I don’t believe in much of anything.”
A smile lifted the corners of her mouth. “So… can you do it again?”
“Like this?” He glided back in.
Her eyes drifted shut, she raised her hips into his downthrust, accentuating the stunning pressure. “Exactly like that,” she breathed, sliding her hands around his neck. “Don’t ever stop…”
He knew what she meant; he had no intention of stopping. Nor would he have, if the phone on the bedside table hadn’t begun ringing at such jarring decibel levels it hurt his ears. Swearing, he glanced at the phone. But too far gone at the moment to consider answering it, he concentrated instead on the onset of Liv’s next orgasm, ultimately joining her in another mind-blowing climax so awesome it momentarily drowned out the ringing of the phone.
They lay collapsed afterward, replete.
He unconsciously shifted on his elbows, not crushing the woman under him hardwired into his brain.
“It stopped,” Liv murmured.
“What?” He was still drifting in that never-never land of sweet gratification.
“The phone.”
“Good.”
They both ignored the red voice mail light that had started blinking. They both had better things on their minds.
Later though, when Jake was once again capable of coherent thought and speech, he debated listening to the message. But it was getting late. Whoever called could wait until morning.
If the phone hadn’t rung again moments later and yet a third and fourth time shortly after that, he might have persevered in his decision. But he’d been in restaurant crisis management too long to ignore the fourth call.
“Do you mind?” It was politesse only; he was already rolling into a seated position on the edge of the bed and stripping off his condom. A second later, he punched into the voice mail and listened to the increasingly frantic messages before glancing at Liv. “I have to respond to these,” he gruffly noted. “My manager in L.A. is negotiating for some hard-to-get wines. Devain’s vineyard only produces a few cases a year.” He smoothed his palms over his hair and blew out a breath. “I don’t want to lose them.”
“You don’t want to lose wines like that,” Liv murmured, stretching lazily, knowing Devain as well as any wine connoisseur. “No problem. I’ll wait.”
His dark brows came together in a frown. “This could take a while. He’s a prick to deal with.”
Coming up on her elbows, she looked at him squarely. “Are you brushing me off?” She was never brushed off, which may have accounted for her mildly pugnacious tone. Or maybe the idea of relinquishing the pleasure he offered displeased her more.
“God, no,” he said, leaning over and dropping a conciliatory kiss on her cheek. “Stay a week.” Anyone knowing Jake would have been shocked by his statement. “In fact,” he added, immune to previous lifestyle habits when right after this phone call, getting off again was number one on his list, “I’ll be right back with something to amuse you
while I talk this over with Eduardo.”
“I’m not in the mood to read,” Liv drolly noted.
He winked. “You won’t be reading, babe.” Coming to his feet, he jabbed a finger at her. “Now, stay put.”
“Yes, sir, whatever you say, sir,” she teasingly replied.
He grinned. “I can see we’re gonna get along just fine.”
They were already getting along finer than she’d ever gotten along with anyone, but his ego probably didn’t need further stroking.
She watched him walk away: tall and tanned-swarthy by nature, she suspected-muscled like a stevedore, handsome as sin… with a cock to die for and a real proficiency at using it. She’d be crazy not to wait.
And before she had time to do more than thank her lucky stars for having stopped by, Jake returned from the kitchen balancing a large, peeled zucchini upright on his palm. It had been carved into a realistic facsimile of an erect penis with smoothly rounded glans, sculpted veins and the slight arc of full-blown arousal.
“Here’s something to keep you interested until I’m off the phone. I wouldn’t want you to be unhappy while you’re waiting.”
“It doesn’t look like I will be. You’re so very talented,” Liv purred, her body already opening in anticipation.
“Ice swans or dildos, it’s all in a day’s work,” he said with a grin. “But more importantly,” he added, sitting down on the edge of the bed, “let’s see if I figured the size right. I was guessing you’d like the economy size.” Leaning over, he eased her legs apart with one hand and slipped the smooth head past her labia, slowly forcing the large dildo deep inside her.
The coolness, the exquisite pressure instantly triggered her already overwrought nerves. She shivered as a shimmering rush of arousal washed over her. No longer questioning her inexplicable longing, she basked in the feverish glow instead, giving Jake high marks for estimating the perfect, optimal size. The zucchini was big, but not too big or almost… almost… too big in the most exquisite possible way.
When he finally whispered, “There. It’s all the way in,” and nudged it just a little deeper with his palm, she shut her eyes against the wild, explosive delirium convulsing her senses.
“I’m not usually like this,” she panted a moment later, as if she needed to apologize for her lack of restraint. But with an enormous dildo cramming her full, with her every sexual receptor singing the “Hallelujah Chorus” at frenzied pitch, she decided it didn’t really matter about restraint or the lack thereof.
“Hey, everything’s good,” Jake whispered. “Go for it.”
How sweet he was-not selfish, chivalrous even, thinking of her pleasure, apparently understanding the finer points of truth and beauty as related to unbridled desire as well.
And since when had she felt the need to apologize for her sexual urges?
Never.
So there.
Having rationalized away her novel unease having to do with really blissfully countless orgasms that she had to admit were unusual even in her worldly take on life, she stopped quibbling or thinking at all and gave herself up to the extraordinary, superacute pleasure occasioned by Jake’s sculptural talents.
She screamed more than usual when she came the next time.
Perhaps he wouldn’t make his call just yet, Jake decided. Perhaps he’d first talk to her about making less noise. Diplomatically, of course.
On the other hand, it wasn’t as though Eduardo would really give a damn.
Christ, what was he thinking?
Withdrawing the dildo marginally, he shoved it back in and smiled faintly at her gratified sigh. “Enjoy yourself, darling. I’ll make this quick,” he murmured, settling once again into a gentle, adroit rhythm of arousal as he reached for the phone.
Negotiating via a conference call with Eduardo and Devain to save time, Jake kept the conversation as brief as possible. He wasn’t in the mood to quibble over price, which speeded up the process considerably, not to mention Jake’s French was serviceable enough to soothe over Devain ’s notorious irritability.
A price was agreed on in mere minutes, the rare wines locked in for Jake’s restaurants. As Jake made his adieus, Christophe Devain, owner of one of the best vineyards in the world, said, “Jake, mon ami, my regards to your lady. Such lovely little moans. I envy you your evening’s pleasure. ”
Jake didn’t offer demur. He only said, “Merci,” understanding how fortunate he was to have darling Livvi in his bed.
Immediately Jake set down the phone, he forgot what- only hours before-would have been a coup of prime import. Rare Bordeaux vintages were dismissed from his thoughts, as was Eduardo’s earlier hysteria. Reaching for one of Chaz’s convenient supply of condoms, he shifted his attention to more pressing activities.
A moment later, the zucchini dildo was tossed aside, Jake settled between Liv’s legs, and the two individuals on the Bollywood bed returned to their quest for the perfect orgasm.
Eight
The next morning Jake walked Liv out to her truck. “Christ, the sun’s barely up,” he muttered, squinting at the pink glow in the east.
“My work crew comes in early. I try to be there in case anyone has any questions. Or wants to bitch. You didn’t have to get up.” She grinned. “I could have sent you a dozen roses and a thank-you note.”
He grinned back. “Make it red roses. You did work me pretty hard.”
“I should apologize”-her brows flickered-“although I think I did a bunch of times already.”
She always had-right before she asked for it again. “Hey, babe, I’m only teasing. The pleasure was all mine.” He opened the driver’s door for her.
She climbed in, Jake shut the door and, rolling down her window, Liv said with a smile, “Thanks again. I had a really good time.” No one in Minnesota ever got in their car after a visit and just drove away. The Minnesota good-bye was lingering and often involved several extra cups of coffee-although in this case sex had been substituted for coffee.
“Come keep me company again-anytime.” Jake’s reluctance to have her leave had nothing to do with Minnesota good-byes. He was still horny.
“I might take you up on that.”
“Please do. I’m at loose ends for a while. I’ll feed you, too.” For a man who preferred one-night stands, he surprised even himself with the invitation.
“It’s busy this time of year for me. I’ll give you a call before I come over.”
“Don’t bother. Come anytime.” Every word he spoke was such a clear departure from normal, he was thinking he must be losing it. And how much he could contribute to fatigue was unclear.
The first few bars of Natasha Bedingfield’s “Unwritten” echoed in the morning air.
“Shit, that’s my phone,” Liv muttered, rummaging through the mess on her truck seat to unearth it. Plucking it from under a denim jacket, she glanced at the caller ID. “I better take this,” she murmured. “A friend from the past.”
“Go for it. I’m not in a hurry.” Screw it. He liked her and the sex. No way he was going to analyze this to death. “Stay for breakfast,” he offered.
“I wish,” she said, flipping open her phone. “But my crew…” she whispered. “Hi, Janie,” she said in a normal tone. “What a nice surpri-hey, slow down, slow down. Oh, Jeez-sorry; I left my phone in my truck. You’re where? Okay, gotcha. Hey… don’t cry. You’ll be fine here. No one in New York ever even thinks about Minneapolis. I’ll come and get you. It’ll take me about twenty minutes. Don’t move.”
Flipping the phone shut, she turned to Jake. “Crisis in paradise, as you may have surmised. Like the soap operas my friend from New York used to star in. Apparently, Janie went to the gym yesterday and came back to find the locks on the apartment had been changed. Neither the doormen nor servants would let her in, no matter how big a scene she made-and knowing Janie I expect it was a doozy. Luckily, she’d taken her little boy with her for his swim lesson or she wouldn’t have had access to him. Gypsy fate there. Anyway,
” Liv added, “they’re at the airport Hilton. She’s been trying to get in touch with me since last night. Moral of the story-never marry a Mr. Big who’s already divorced three wives.”
“You wouldn’t be talking about Janie Tabor?”
“You know Janie?”
“I did a long time ago. She was trying to break into movies like every other woman who came out to la-la land from small-town U.S.A. Mind if I come along?”
Liv hesitated. “I’d better ask Janie. She’s pretty uptight right now.”
“I’ll wait.”
He said it so calmly she figured he knew what Janie’s answer would be. And sure enough, when she called and asked, Janie screamed, “Jake’s there? Put him on the phone!”
After a lengthy conversation that made Liv beaucoup curious about their past as well as making her just a little pissed for some stupid, unknown reason, Jake said good-bye and handed Liv her phone. “Let me grab my wallet and lock up. I’ll be right back. Want me to drive?”
“I’ll drive.” What she really wanted to say was, Tell me everything, because what she’d heard of their conversation sounded just like the soap operas Janie used to star in before her marriage to one of the richest men in New York. Not that Liv hadn’t tried to talk Janie out of marrying a man who was into serial marriages. Short serial marriages. But at the time, Janie had been tired of acting and tired of dating. She’d also been nervous about her biological clock, along with pop-psychology issues like where she was going with her life. She’d been twenty-nine and had spoken longingly about wanting a baby of her own in the same sappy phrases as one of the flaky characters she’d played on the soap operas.
Not a good reason to get married, Liv had thought.
Particularly not a reason to marry someone like Leo Rolf, who already had five children by three former wives.
But then Liv had always been a romantic, unlike Janie, who was looking for someone rich to take care of her and give her a baby. Liv was still holding out for that great true love that passeth all understanding. Or something along those lines.
Wine, Tarts & Sex Page 5