Good Karma

by Donya Lynne

  As she sat back down at her desk, her phone vibrated with a text.

  I’m looking forward to searching for your lost ball.

  That stinker. It’s not lost, Mr. Strong. It’s just being difficult. Like someone I know.

  He chuckled, but didn’t reply. Enough had been said already. But at least her dreaded conversation was over. Now she could focus on more important things. Such as trying to figure out what to wear tonight.

  A basket over her head would be perfect.

  Chapter 26

  That which does not kill us makes us stronger.

  -Friedrich Nietzsche

  A few minutes before seven, Mark arrived with corned beef sandwiches and vegetable soup he’d picked up at “this great little deli” he discovered, as he’d said on the phone when he called to take her order. He also brought a six-pack of Heineken.

  God love him.

  He set his gym bag by the door. Why he had it with him, Karma had no idea. Maybe he’d brought forceps and a pair of pliers to fetch Ben Wa. Or a large magnet. That would do the trick.

  After eating, he grabbed his duffel bag and nodded toward the hall. “And now…we have a procedure to perform.”

  Incredulous and embarrassed, she groaned and shook her head. “You are taking way too much delight in this.”

  “I just love seeing you squirm.”

  “Well then, you’ll really love me in just a little bit, because squirming is about all I’ll be doing.” She lifted her beer and drained the bottle. “Let’s do this.” Might as well get it over with. She was ready for the little black ball from Ben Wa Land to end its sequester inside her body.

  Mark followed her to her room.

  “How do you want to do this?” she said.

  He tried not to smile but failed. Yes, he was having way too good a time at her expense.

  “Well, I’ll step into the bathroom and get ready, and you…” He glanced at her jeans. “You need to take everything off below the waist and lie down on the bed.”

  Take everything off below the waist?

  “Do I really need to take off all my clothes?” She wasn’t ready for him to see her naked. “Can’t you get it out some other way?” As if he could think the ball out of her or perform a Criss Angel Mindfreak magic trick.

  He set his bag on the floor and took her hands. “I do need full access to do this.” He was trying to lighten the mood with humor, but he must have seen the raw humiliation in her eyes, because he sighed and grew deadly serious. “I’ll be professional. I promise. You can turn off all the lights and get under the covers. Will that help?”

  “I suppose.”

  He let go of her hands and gestured toward her bed. “You get ready. I’ll step into the bathroom.” He winked and picked up his bag. “You tell me when I can come out.”

  He disappeared into her bathroom and closed the door, leaving her alone.

  “I can do this,” she whispered to herself. She hurried out of her jeans and underwear, glancing over her shoulder at the closed bathroom door. “Really, I can.”

  She hastened to turn off the light, close the blinds, and get under the covers.

  Deep breath.

  She clasped her hands over her sternum. Her palms were sweaty. She quickly wiped them on her comforter and re-clasped them on her stomach.

  “I’m ready,” she called.

  A moment later, the bathroom door opened.

  She looked over.

  What the heck?

  Mark was wearing goggles, a surgical mask, a shower cap, and latex gloves. He lifted his hands in front of him like a surgeon.

  In an instant, the ice broke, and she burst into laughter at the same moment he did. He pulled off the shower cap and goggles, tossed them on the bathroom counter, shut off the light, and strolled to the bed. Once he sat down beside her, he pulled down the mask.

  “I was hoping that would loosen you up,” he said, leaning over her.

  She giggled and wiped a tear from her eye. “It did. Thank you.”

  “I’ve always wanted to play doctor.” He pulled the mask over his head, snapped off the gloves, reached around, and pulled a small bottle of lube from his back pocket. Then he set it on the nightstand.

  “Gynecologist?”

  “Something like that.” He looked down at her discarded panties on the floor, then back at her. “I see you’re ready for me.”

  “Is that a double entendre?”

  “Would you like it to be?”

  She bit her lip and felt a shiver in her abdomen from the way he looked at her. His gaze burned into hers as if he was suddenly as intent on what he was about to do as she was. As if reading her mind, he grabbed the bottle of lube, got up, and went around to the other side of the bed, where he lifted the blankets just enough to slip under and join her.

  “Relax,” he said, propping himself on one elbow. “Relax and open your legs.”

  “You’d think after what we did on the phone, this would be easier,” she said nervously, easing her knees apart.

  When she felt his hand take hold of her leg and lift it over his thighs, she inhaled sharply then slowly exhaled.

  “Everything’s more personal in person,” he said. “Anonymity makes us brave. When you can’t see me, you’re more able to connect with what you want, because you’re not thinking about how I’ll react or what I think. When I’m with you…” his hand skimmed along the inside of her calf to her foot, “you become more self-conscious. You’re wondering if I like what I see, what I’m feeling.” His fingers tickled their way back up her leg. He paused a moment and closed his hand over her knee. “Just so you’re not worrying about all that…yes, I like what I see, as well as what I feel.”

  She trembled at his words and the warmth of his hand on her leg.

  “Just relax,” he said softly. “Let me do the work.” His fingertips trailed back down to her bare foot. “Mmm.” He grinned. “No socks.”

  “Should I have put them on?”

  “You should always wear socks around me unless you want me excited.” He grinned and smoothed his fingers over the top of her foot and up to her ankle.

  “I’ll remember that.”

  “Mmm, I’d rather you not.”

  “Is this what you consider professional doctor behavior?” she said quietly as his fingers lightly tickled their way up her leg.

  He smiled. “Just getting you used to my touch.” His voice was quiet but deep.

  He spent another few seconds caressing her legs, sending sizzles into her abdomen and down to her toes, and then shifted his hand higher. He pulled his hand out from under the covers, popped open the cap of the lube, and drizzled a little on his fingers. She wanted to tell him she was already nicely lubricated.

  “You ready?” he said.

  She nodded, and he slipped his hand under the blankets again.

  “I’m going to touch you now, okay?” he whispered.

  He had already been touching her, and didn’t her tingling body know it, but she knew what he meant. She met his gaze and waited, holding her breath. It was as much of an acknowledgement as she could muster.

  His sure fingers slid between her outer labia, pressed in, parted her inner labia, dove farther down as if searching, and then stopped.

  “Take a deep breath,” Mark said.

  She inhaled, and as she exhaled, his middle finger forged inside.

  This was the first time a man had put his finger inside her. The sensation was foreign but pleasurable. Similar to how it felt when she put her finger inside herself, but Mark had big hands and wider fingers than she did, and even though it was just a finger, she felt full. He probed farther, stroking her G-spot. The contact was enough to make her suck in her breath.

  “I feel it,” he said, concentrating.

  “I feel it, too.” She spoke breathlessly.

  His finger halted, and the corners of his mouth lifted. “Are we talking about the same thing?”

  She licked her lips and stared, feeling
like she was floating. “I don’t know. What are you talking about?”

  “The ball.” His grin grew wider. “What were you talking about?”

  “Not the ball.” The words breathed out on a dreamy sigh. Her nervousness began to evaporate, and for the first time she felt…sexy. Sexual. The way she imagined a woman was supposed to feel in bed with a handsome, virile man like Mark.

  His finger gently hooked inside her and stroked her pleasure zone again. “Is that what you feel?”

  She closed her eyes and let out a long, quiet sigh. “Yes.”

  “Well, we’ll come back to that later.” His thumb smoothed up to her swollen clit and drew a single firm circle around it. “For now, tilt your pelvis for me.” She did as he asked. “That’s good. Hold on.”

  His finger wiggled back and forth, and the pressure inside grew more and more pleasurable. The rest of his fingers cupped her crotch. Her breaths grew more shallow the longer he played fetch with the ball.

  “You sure went to a great deal of trouble to get me to put my finger inside you,” he said, grinning. His finger strained deeper.

  She huffed in protest, too distracted by her rising arousal to respond verbally.

  “Are you sure you didn’t do this on purpose? I mean, I can think of better, easier ways to get me to do this without risking life and limb to retrieve a little metal ball.”

  Trying to hold back her smile, she nudged his free arm. “Stop making fun of me. Just do your job and get that thing out.”

  “You make it sound like an alien.”

  “It feels like one.”

  “Did you even see Alien?”

  Now they were talking about aliens and movies about aliens? Really?

  “Yes, I did.”

  He frowned, concentrated, and hooked his finger inside her. His face scrunched as if he was working hard. A moment later, his face relaxed, and he smiled. He slowly pulled his finger out of her, and then held up the little ball between his thumb and forefinger. “Got it. Now, does this look like a molting, evil, acid-bleeding creature to you?”

  The most wonderful ache between her legs protested the removal of his finger, but she managed to laugh and give him a playful shove. “Stop teasing me.”

  He laughed with her. “Is that any way to thank me for saving you?”

  The man was incorrigible. “My hero,” she drawled sarcastically.

  “That’s more like it.” He tossed the ball to the floor.

  She began to pull her leg from over his, but he quickly gripped her knee and held it back. “No, no. I’m not finished with you.”

  “What are you doing?” But she already knew. At least her subconscious did, because sparks erupted inside her belly.

  The look in his eyes confirmed her suspicions.

  He released her knee and skimmed his palm up her leg as his torso pressed against hers. “Trust me?” he whispered against her lips.

  With flames licking their way into the place his finger had just vacated, and molten arousal flowing into her limbs, she would agree to anything he asked. “Yes,” she said breathlessly.

  Moments ago, they had been laughing and joking, but now the air crackled with rising hunger. She wanted more. She was ready for more.

  His fingers danced up and down her inner thighs, sending shocks of sensation into her labia, up through her vagina, to her clitoris.

  If he could make her feel this way with just his hand, she could only imagine what he could do with his mouth. After all, he had read the papaya book, which meant he knew what it took to give mind-blowing oral sex. Just what kinds of magic tricks had Mark picked up from his studies?

  His hand drew near center again, but this time, he didn’t pass over to her other leg. This time, the very tippy-tips of his fingers barely touched her as he brushed them over her lips.

  Arousal spiked in her core, and wave after wave of tingles lapped at her vulva with each pass of his fingers.

  She squirmed and moaned, turning her pleading gaze to his. His intent, hooded eyes seemed to drink her in as if he had never seen anything more captivating.

  He let his fingers caress her more directly, brushing the length of his fingers against her privates. A minute later, he altered the pressure again, using his fingers like a paintbrush, heavily stroking them up and down.

  Sensations unlike any she’d ever felt surged through her, and she found it hard to lie still. More. She wanted more.

  But Mark progressed at his own pace, slowly drawing his fingers up, then driving them back down. He spread her both ways, teased her clit, and sent her heart rate into the stratosphere.

  Until finally, he planted his palm fully against her and slowly plunged his middle finger back into her depths.

  She gasped and thrust her hips to meet him.

  “Will you take your shirt off for me?” he said quietly. It was a request, not a demand.

  Her heart rate spiked. “I’m not sure…”

  “You don’t have to,” he whispered, “but I think you’ll like it. I know I will.”

  Her gaze danced around the room. It was a little darker now. The sun was creeping toward sunset. Her eyes met his again. Down below, his thumb drew slow, persuasive circles around her clit, and his finger stroked the front wall of her vagina. Why not do as he asked? She was beautiful, right? Even so, she wanted something from him if he wanted her to do this.

  “You first,” she said.

  “Ah, a negotiator.” He grinned, removed his finger, and yanked his shirt off in one smooth motion.

  If Mark was hot with his shirt on, he was even hotter with it off. Karma stared. Yes, stared. Dark but short, sparse hair swept toward his sternum, down the ridge in the middle of his chest, and pointed toward the center of his stomach, which was impressively ribbed with muscle. Mark was a man who took care of his appearance.

  God bless sit-ups and whatever else he did to keep that six-pack.

  “Your turn,” he said. The expression on his face showed that he enjoyed the way she was staring at him.

  She swallowed. He had fulfilled his end of the bargain. Now she needed to. Slowly, she grabbed the hem of her shirt and lifted it up her torso. For so long, she hadn’t wanted anyone to see her naked, but Mark was beginning to change all that. He had told her she was beautiful. He had said her breasts were perfect. And he had made her start believing it.

  Mark’s eyes held fast on her body as she peeled the shirt over her head. Then she held her breath and, with trembling fingers, she unfastened her bra. A part of her couldn’t believe she was doing this, but the other part reveled in the fact that she was. It felt like she was about to pass some kind of milestone…complete a rite of passage.

  Their eyes met, and she inched her bra off her chest. Little by little, she revealed herself to him, and his gaze lowered in a way that suggested he didn’t want to miss a moment, until finally, she pulled the bra away altogether and set it aside.

  His hand slid back under the covers and between her legs. “You’re beautiful.” He spoke softly, his gaze ranging left to right, from one side of her chest to the other.

  “I’m nervous,” she whispered in the growing darkness.

  “Don’t be.” He eased his finger back inside her.

  A moment later, he rolled down beside her, and his skin met hers. So warm, so electric. So incredibly hot.

  I am beautiful.

  When his mouth closed over her nipple, all rational thought screeched to a halt. He drew the tight, puckered bud against his tongue and laved her with the patient lust of a man who knew what he was doing. Then he drew his tongue up her breast, to the side of her neck, and finally to her ear.

  “You’re driving me crazy,” he whispered, just as he began massaging his thumb over her clit.

  She was driving him crazy? What did he think he was doing to her?

  “Put your arms around me,” he said, lifting his body so he could scoot closer.

  She did as he asked. He felt so big, so powerful. The muscles of his back
rolled against her palms. God, he was majestic.

  She closed her eyes and moaned as his finger found her sweet spot again. His thumb and middle finger worked in perfect harmony, finding a rhythm, working in tandem to drive her insane with need.

  “You’re close,” he said, dropping his mouth to her breast again. “I can feel your clit getting harder.” He groaned and laved her nipple.

  Nipple and clit connected on some invisible fuse, and the first telltale sensation of pending orgasm burned through her.

  She sucked in her breath. “I think I’m…oh God…yes.”

  He replaced his thumb with the heel of his hand and gripped her like a bowling ball, rubbing her clit and that incredible inner spot more aggressively, increasing the pressure. At the same time, he sucked her nipple against his tongue and gently flicked it. A bolt of electricity zinged from her breast into her vagina, and she gasped as her orgasm reared.

  She could hardly breathe. Her orgasm built and built…and built. For what felt like an eternity, it threatened to consume her. It rose like a slow burn, creeping closer to the edge.

  “Yes…yes…yes.” Each whispered syllable rose in pitch and intensity, taking her closer to boiling over.

  My God, she had never felt anything like this.

  She ground her hips against him, gripped the back of his head to hold his mouth against her breast. The more he teased her nipple, the better it felt between her legs. What sorcerer’s trick was he playing on her anatomy?

  “Yes, yes, YES! Mark!” She threw her head back, the wave cresting.

  “Bear down,” he said.

  She did and held her breath. The pleasure! My God, the pleasure! What was happening to her?

  Like an explosive blast, her orgasm skyrocketed into orbit, and then crashed into her with the force of a bomb. Was this a side effect of the Ben Wa ball being inside her for so long? Or of the Kegels she had been doing faithfully every day? Or was it just…Mark? Whatever the cause, she wanted more.

  Her entire body convulsed. She lost all control over her muscles. It was as if a hundred doctors were tapping their tiny triangular hammers against all her reflex points at once. Her arms and legs jerked endlessly, her stomach twitched in violent spasms, and the only sound she could make was a garbled moan as her climax completely destroyed her.