Show and Tell

by Jasmine Haynes

She simply smiled.

  Tugging her close, he devoured her mouth, slipping his hand inside her jacket to pinch her nipple. Christ, she wasn’t wearing a damn thing under there. She hissed under his lips, and he pinched harder until she moaned.

  Pulling back, he sagged against his seat, fighting for breath. He wanted to come, now, but they hadn’t even gotten to the really sexy movie scenes.

  “Stroke me.” He didn’t beg, he demanded.

  She closed him inside her fist, caressed him, her gaze on his face, making him wild with the intensity in her dark blue eyes and the heat of her grip.

  “What if there was a guy sitting right over there watching you jerk me?” He nodded down the empty aisle, his voice a whisper in the dark.

  Keeping her silence the way he’d instructed, she merely smiled, then blinked, slow, lazy, boiling, the movie lights glimmering across her face as the scenes changed. She pumped his cock harder. She held him tight, no limp girlie grip.

  “That’d be fucking hot,” he went on, wrapping his own hand around hers. “He’d want you. But he’d see you were mine.”

  She shook her hair out, licked her glossy red lips.

  “I’d want you to suck me, show him how fucking good you are, how goddamn perfect.” He cupped her chin, stroked her lips with his tongue, then backed off. “I’d want him to see you take my come down your throat.” It was primal, the lion fighting all comers for his mate. “Take my cock,” he seduced her with his own desire and need.

  His Jezebel didn’t hesitate. Bending to his lap, she licked away his pre-come, then took him all the way, down her throat. He bucked up against her, almost coming with that first deep swallow. She had him on the edge. Simply being with her made him crazy. Holding her head down, he pumped his hips, begging her to take him. It was so damn fucking good, the heat of her mouth, her hair falling over him, the movie on the screen.

  He craved passion, yet somehow she gave him something infinitely better. She’d given him back his youth and aliveness.

  “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he whispered, head back, eyes closed.

  Until he heard the upstairs door.

  An usher trolled the front aisle of the balcony, picking up a few bits of trash. Cupping his hand to her forehead, Scott lifted her, then zipped his pants. He couldn’t breathe. He could barely focus his gaze. Yet he leaned into his perfect, gorgeous, sensual Jezebel. “Lift your skirt.”

  She tugged the sexy red skirt up her thighs, barely revealing her pretty bush. He wanted to taste her.

  The usher disappeared out the doors, and on screen, William Hurt picked up Kathleen in a neighborhood bar. The actress was sexy, but Jezebel was more of everything. No woman’s mouth had taken him that quickly to orgasm. If not for the interruption, he’d have blown sky-high. And he wasn’t ready. He wanted to ride that sweet knife edge awhile longer.

  “Touch your clit.” He licked the rim of her ear. She shivered with her whole body, sucked in a labored breath, and shoved her hand between her thighs.

  Slouching in the seat, she plumbed her depths. Without taking his eyes off the movie screen, Scott pulled her leg up to the armrest, draping her calf over his knee, and stroked her thigh. Her sexy, aroused scent filled his head, and the barely there sound of her slick pussy enthralled him.

  Kathleen took William home, and she was wearing the same damn red skirt as Jezebel. He played with her leg, her calf, caressed, dragged his nails along her skin, the soft sounds of pleasure she made driving him nuts.

  It was like lying on the other side of the wall that first night, listening to her. His cock ached to slide inside her.

  “I want your fingers in my mouth.”

  Closing his eyes, he sucked her sweet, tangy, delicious juice from them. He opened his lids once more to the crash of breaking glass and good old William tearing at Kathleen’s red skirt. Scott turned in his seat and slid a hand along her thigh as he covered her mouth. After one deep kiss, he backed off and whispered, “Watch the movie.”

  She shuddered as he licked her ear, then blew on her. Her skin was warm, her pussy wet, her clit a hard nub beneath his fingers. He circled and swirled, using her own moisture to tantalize. Biting her earlobe, he worked his way to her cheek and licked, then her throat, mimicking the movements of his fingers with his tongue. She squirmed, her breathing rapid, her nails digging into his shoulder. He could almost hear the beat of her heart. Glancing up, he found her gaze glued to the screen, her bottom lip between her teeth.

  “I’m going to make you come.” He pushed a finger deep inside her. Her throat worked, and he sucked her skin. He took her clit with his thumb and her pussy with two fingers. Her body undulated with his rhythm. “Don’t make a sound,” he ordered.

  She moved with him, let him fuck her with his hand, her breath harsh, her lips parted. His mind was steeped in her scent, her taste still sweet on his tongue. She slipped her hand inside her jacket, played with her own nipples. The sight of her, the feel of her pussy, made his balls tighten and pre-come dampen his trousers. The music crescendoed, and the couple did the nasty on screen while Jezebel convulsed around his fingers, and when she came, he swallowed her cries in his mouth.

  SHE came to herself tucked securely against his shoulder, his arm around her. God, he smelled good. The light scent of laundry detergent on his shirt, soap on his skin, all mingled with the aroma of warm body and come. She could still taste him.

  Trinity shivered. She’d never done anything remotely like this in her life. Good Lord, she’d taken him in her mouth, then let him bring her to orgasm in a movie theater. She’d intended some petting and teasing, which was why she’d left her underwear behind. The rest, though, she’d gotten carried away with. But oh God, she loved it. Even the part where he’d talked about a stranger watching, wanting.

  Snuggling closer despite the armrest digging into her ribs, Trinity put one hand on his chest and played lightly with a nipple through his shirt. Scott trapped her fingers in his, then raised her hand to his lips, but when he set it back down, she was far from any nipple play.

  She rolled her head on his shoulder to meet his gaze. “Am I allowed to talk?” she whispered, referring to his command.

  He smiled, mouthed the word no, then shook a malt ball into her hand. “Eat it. That should keep you quiet.”

  She sucked on it, the taste sweet and chocolaty with the slight malted zest, but it eradicated his taste. He didn’t kiss her, nor did he put her hand on his cock. Yet he hadn’t come earlier. Was it all over? Had she done something wrong, come too loudly so that he was afraid of attracting attention?

  For the life of her, Trinity couldn’t remember how loud she’d been. There was only the feel of his fingers on her, then his mouth, and what he’d said. He’d want you. But he’d see you were mine.

  She tried to concentrate on the movie, but all the questions kept running through her head. What did it mean that he didn’t want her to touch him? If she could figure it out, she could fix it. Her thoughts spiraled down until . . .

  Until she realized she was doing the same thing she’d done with every man who’d ever intrigued her. Analyze, then strategize. She had a whole host of tricks in her bag to keep a man interested in her. Let him think he’s smarter than you. Let him believe he’s the center of your universe. Never ever let him see you without your best face on, figuratively and physically.

  Trinity sat up, adjusting her skirt and jacket, then held out a hand. He poured four malt balls into her palm. She ate them before they melted. Then she watched the movie, and after she figured out what she’d missed while she was feeling all insecure and sorry for herself, she enjoyed the spectacular show.

  If only she couldn’t smell his enticing male scent and the heat of his body so close to hers.

  When the movie was over, he rose and tugged on his suit jacket again. “Did you like it?”

  “I didn’t know those old movies could be that good.”

  He laughed out loud. “Old?”

  “I was a toddler whe
n it came out.”

  He tipped his head, and she couldn’t read his expression despite the fact that the house lights were once again on.

  Then he held out his hand. “Let’s see if it’s raining.”

  He didn’t say a word about how good it had been, not the movie, but the things they’d done in the dark. Trinity chewed on her bottom lip and wondered how badly her lipstick was mussed. She had the strongest urge to check her makeup in the ladies’ room mirror, but she beat back the desire.

  They made it half a block before the downpour hit, and Scott tugged her beneath the awning of a closed antiques store. “You have an umbrella tucked in that bag of yours?”

  She held up her pocket purse. Normally she carried a bag large enough to house the contents of her bedroom vanity—slight exaggeration—but she’d turned over a new leaf. “I barely have room for my keys in here.” Plus one lipstick and lip liner. “I’m not going to melt if I get wet, though.” She thought of her hair, and the flat, tangled mess it would be.

  As if he could read her thoughts, Scott tucked a lock behind her ear. “I might melt.” Pushing her further into the store’s recessed entrance, he pinned her against the wood doorframe.

  And she adored his height all over again. “It’s my suit I worry about, all those water spots.” Shoving her hands beneath his jacket, she clasped them at his back.

  “We’ll have to stay here until it stops.” He nuzzled the flyaway hair at her temple.

  He was hard. Everything was okay. With his erection at her belly, she tipped her head back and kissed him. Light nips, a bit of tongue, feathering her mouth over his. “You’re a very naughty man doing that to me in the theater.”

  He licked the corner of her mouth, then her chin, then trailed up to her ear. “That’s what I love about you.” He nipped her earlobe. “You want to touch and taste everything. Try it all. Take a great big bite out of life. Living it to the fullest.” Backing off to capture her gaze, he rubbed against her. “I love that you’re a very naughty woman willing to spread your legs in a dark movie theater for me.”

  That wasn’t her. Until two weeks ago she hadn’t tasted anything . He’d created a fantasy woman nothing like the real Trinity. Not that she knew who the real Trinity was. She’d been asking herself that question for days. Sooner or later, he’d see she was a fraud. Then he’d leave. That’s why she needed to keep her secrets, so he’d never figure it out. And jeez, there she went spoiling the game again. She would not ruin the night.

  “You made me.” She sighed dramatically, playing her Jezebel role to the hilt. “I had absolutely no choice in the matter.”

  He followed every curve of her body down to her butt, tracing the crease. “Right. That’s why you’re completely naked under this prim little suit.”

  Pulling back, she jutted her chin. “It’s not prim.”

  “Oh yes it is.” He inched the skirt up. “My grandmother would wear this suit.”

  She loved the banter, and she knew he loved the suit. With his first look tonight, his lids had drifted lower, all dreamy for her. She wanted to see where this particular game went. “I’ll have you know this is a power suit.”

  He rocked his hips against her, then backed off to raise the hem up her thighs. “It’s too long, a matron lady’s suit.”

  It wasn’t any such thing. In fact, Matty in the movie had worn exactly the same style skirt, and watching Ned tug it up over her butt and slip his fingers in the elastic of her panties had played a role in Trinity’s orgasm. And maybe that’s what Scott was thinking about. The tips of his fingers caressed below her butt cheeks in slow, sinuous circles.

  “So what, you want me to take it off now?” she joked.

  His eyes flared, and he smiled. Good Lord, he couldn’t mean to have her right here in the alcove, could he? She peeked past his shoulder. The streetlamps gave out a murky light in the downpour, the sidewalks were empty, and cars passed in the roadway, spitting water up from the tires.

  Did she dare to let him touch her here? It had been so good in the theater, with the edge of exposure, his fantasy of being watched by a moviegoer in the next aisle. How much of an exhibitionist could she be? With Scott, the possibilities were as limitless as her desire. Trinity wanted to try everything.

  “Strip it off,” he murmured, slipping a hand between them to the first button on her jacket.

  Yes, yes, yes. She pulled in a breath of air and held it. He said he was madly in lust with her, yet he wanted her to take the risks. He wanted her exposed. She’d come for him, but he hadn’t done the same. He wanted to show she was his, but did it work the other way around?

  She grabbed his finger, bending it back slightly, enough to get his attention without pain. “I’ve got a better idea.” She reached down to cup him. “Why don’t we brave the rain and run to the car to take care of this?” She squeezed, tempting him.

  For a moment, the only sound was the patter of rain on the pavement, the shush of wet tires, and his breath. Then he let go of the bit of skirt he’d trapped in his hand, smoothed it down over her thighs, and stepped back.

  He idly scratched his chin. “If you want that, you’ll need to come home with me.”

  Her stomach started a slow descent. “Why? You liked it in the car the other night.”

  “I’m tired.” He shrugged. “I don’t want to have to drive after I’ve come. It’s a long way home.”

  “So you want me to drive a long way home.”

  “No. You can stay. I’ll drive you back in the morning.”

  Moments before she had him in the palm of her hand, literally and figuratively. “I don’t have fresh work clothes.”

  “We can leave early so you can get home and change.”

  He had a reasonable answer for everything. That was the problem. He was so darn reasonable. She wanted him crazy for her. When had he gone from being madly head over heels in lust to reasonable? He thrilled her, yet just as suddenly dragged her down. Trinity needed to regain the upper hand, if there was an upper hand to regain.

  “No. Not tonight.” She’d like to add that she didn’t sleep in strange men’s beds. No, you just masturbate for men in strange beds and let them watch you come.

  “Thanks for the movie, I gotta go.” She didn’t care that it was pouring. It was debilitating trying to figure out how to keep a man pleased.

  “You paid for the movie, so thank you.”

  She pushed past him. “It was my pleasure.”

  “Jezebel.” He reached for her arm, and she sidestepped him.

  “I’ll call you if I have the time this week,” she said, then ran out into the rain before she could change her mind and throw herself at him.

  She’d thrown herself at Harper, and she couldn’t do that again. Not ever.

  HE’D miscalculated big-time. He should have let her do him in the car. But he didn’t fucking want it in the backseat.

  In the alcove, Scott shot out a harsh breath. Rain pounded the awning. A red Mustang passed, and though he couldn’t make out the driver, he knew it was Jezebel running away.

  He hadn’t wanted to come in the darkened theater. From the moment she went off, he’d wanted hours with her. He needed to give her at least ten orgasms, a whole damn night of pleasure.

  He pulled his keys from his pocket. She’d been hot as Hades, he’d been hard as granite. He’d gotten harder sharing that fantasy about an anonymous patron watching her suck him.

  He was perv enough to enjoy that along with everything else. Yet it was as an adjunct to, not instead of something far bigger. Jezebel falling asleep in his arms, waking up beside her, making her toast and coffee in the morning, driving her to work, thinking about her all day, and calling her ten times.