by Unknown
What the hell he was running on, she couldn’t begin to guess.
Pure stubbornness? An idiotic dedication to getting the whole sorry story on Abigail Scott, down to how she got herself off?
She was determined to end this farce once and for all. Simon would get bored after ten minutes. Hell, he’d probably leave before she got her underwear off.
“So,” Simon said, coming to a stop in the middle of the library.
“Where do you want to do this?”
Studying him in the dim light, watching as his gaze skipped from one corner of the room to the other, Georgina thought he looked different… twitchy. Was he nervous?
Good.
“You decide,” Georgina purred, feeling for the first time that evening as if she was in the driver’s seat. She’d make him sweat, see how far he was willing to go with this before he backed out.
She might be the sexual amateur, and she was definitely the crazi-est person in the room, but there was no way in hell she was backing off of this. She was Abigail Scott, fer Christ’s sake. She could totally do this.
As Georgina watched, Simon continued to look around the
room. His gaze lingered on the bed, moved to the couch and finally stopped on one of a pair of wing chairs sitting across from the couch. He turned, giving Georgina a fine view of his bare back.
In the golden light of the attic, his tattoo didn’t seem as menac-ing as it had on the beach. That tattoo was way more than youthful excess but Georgina couldn’t imagine what had prompted him to mark his body in such a cruel fashion. Studying him, Georgina felt a ridiculous urge to lift the rope from his shoulders. Impossible, but the urge was so strong Georgina had to curl her hands into fists to keep from reaching for him.
Then he turned to her and said, “The bed.”
Georgina nodded. Fine with her, she did some of her best work on her back…as in plotting for Abby’s stories. Abby’s stories…
wasn’t that what she was going to do when she got up here, plot out something where Simon was desperate to have her, willing to do anything to get her? She’d just pretend she was in one of her stories.
Before she either came to her senses or lost her nerve, Georgina reached behind her, grabbed the collar of her dress and in one easy, practiced move pulled her loose-fitting dress off over her head. As she tossed it aside, Simon clenched his hands into fists but otherwise remained still as a statue.
“And where will you be sitting?” she asked, planting her hands on her hips, all the while doing a pretty good job convincing herself that she was wearing a bathing suit instead of a thin white cotton bra and a pair of white cotton bikini panties.
Simon pointed to the foot of the bed. He visibly swallowed but his hand was steady. Damn.
Georgina nodded, turned on her heel and crawled onto the bed.
You aren’t wearing a bathing suit.
“Not now,” Georgina hissed as she rolled onto her back,
stretched her legs out in front of her and closed her eyes. Taking in a calming breath, Georgina slowly counted to three and then released it.
The foot of the bed dipped as Simon sat down. In the silence of the room, Georgina could hear him breathing, could hear denim rubbing together as he shifted into a more comfortable position.
The bottoms of her feet registered the heat of his body.
Georgina took in another deep breath as she frantically searched her mind for a way through this.
“Come on, Abby,” Georgina whispered, her lips barely moving as she spoke. “I really need something here. Anything.”
Pretend that he’s paying to watch you.
The idea drifted through her mind and her body heated, in-
stantly responding to the prompt, as it always did when her dirty little mind sent out a scenario that warred with her inner sense of what was right and proper. Nice women didn’t let men watch them masturbate for money.
Yeah, idiot that you are, you’re letting him watch for free.
Georgina grinned. Okay, she could do this. He was paying to watch her make herself come.
Georgina sighed out her breath as she gently arched her lower back, just enough to un-do the kinks that had built up over the day, then let her body relax with another, deeper sigh. When next she inhaled, she slowly allowed her imagination to take over.
He was watching her, his dark eyes taking in her lush figure sprawled out on the bed… her nipples were already hard, pressing against the thin white cotton of her bra. She could feel his gaze there, knew he wanted to touch but couldn’t. That hadn’t been a part of the deal. She slowly drew the tips of her fingers down the center of her chest, towards the small plastic clasp that held her bra together. Fingering the clasp, she waited until she could hear his breath hitch, until she could feel the bed move as he changed his position and then, when she was sure she had his undivided attention, she flipped the clasp, pleased when the soft cups didn’t immediately slide away. She touched the flesh between her breasts, rubbed away the little ache the clasp had created, moaning a little at the feel of her fingers moving on her skin.
“Please,” he whispered, his voice low and raw.
“We didn’t say there would be talking,” she scolded, even as she secretly thrilled at the sound of his voice.
“There’s talking.”
That’ll be extra, she thought but decided now was not the time to talk about money. She would tell him after this was over… if he was still speaking to her, if she didn’t drive him away by doing something so tawdry and base.
“Georgina…” he breathed.
She tensed at the use of her name, afraid it would draw her out of her fantasy. Before he could do it again, she placed both her hands over her breasts and gently squeezed, amazed that her nipples were already so hard and sensitive. She gasped, pushed the cotton away and pinched her nipples, greedy for the sensation, shocked when she felt the compression deep between her legs.
“Christ,” he hissed. His obvious agitation only added to her pleasure.
She played with her breasts, showing him what she liked, showing him how she wanted him to touch her, wishing she had the nerve to ask him to join her but knowing she was already pushing herself farther than she had ever thought possible. So she imagined his mouth on her, imagined she could feel the wet suction of his mouth on her nipple, his tongue lapping at the underside of her breast, skating along the thin, sensitive flesh between her breasts to capture her other nipple in his mouth, his beautiful, cruel mouth…
Heat flared between her legs and she gasped, so close to orgasm she opened her eyes. She caught herself staring at the ceiling and quickly shut her eyes, closing herself back into her fantasy. She slowly stroked her hands down her body, over her ribs until they rested on her stomach. She felt the rapid rise and fall beneath her hands; she had never come so close to orgasm just by touching her breasts.
Was it his presence at the foot of the bed? Was it the deliciously twisted scenario she had unwittingly crafted? Whatever it was she wanted to savor it, build on it…
“Did you just…”
“No,” she replied, her lips curving up into what she hoped was a provocative smile. “But I was close.”
Then, before he could say anything, she slid just the tips of her fingers under the elastic waistband of her panties. Her stomach muscles contracted and her pussy twitched with anticipation.
“God this is good,” she hissed, clenching her thighs together, adding a little more pressure to her outer lips then shivering at the contact.
“Open your legs,” he ordered, his voice loud in the quiet room.
She obeyed without hesitation. He was paying, he could have his say. But, just to punish him for thinking he could order her about, she slipped one hand down to cover her mound, going over her panties rather than inside.
“How does it feel?” he asked.
She shook her head, biting her lip against the words.
“Tell me,” he demanded.
It’s hi
s dime… “Warm, soft, damp. I can feel my clit. It’s already sensitive but I’m not ready to touch there yet. I like to wait, to draw it out. The anticipation feels so good as the pressure builds, and there’s this incredible heat just inside my body that if I press my fingers…there, not inside but almost, yes, right there…” she lifted her hips and came, a short, quick orgasm that robbed her of the breath to speak.
He groaned, the sound reaching out to her across the bed. She ground the heel of her hand against her clit, curled her fingers into her opening, letting the cotton wick up her moisture as she let out a low moan.
“Those panties are so damn sexy,” Simon said. “I haven’t had a woman all in white cotton since college,” he whispered, his voice softened by memory. “There’s something to licking a woman
through cotton, until she’s so wet I can taste her, taste how much she wants me, how much she likes what I’m doing… until she’s begging me to remove them, begging me to touch her flesh with my mouth, my tongue…”
Georgina arched her back, pushing her mound more fully
against her hand. It wasn’t enough anymore. She slipped her hand inside her panties and the feel of flesh against flesh sent a hard shudder through her body. She focused on the feel of her fingers, slick with her own moisture, rubbing over her distended clit. Her hips picked up her rhythm. She spread her legs even wider, bent her knees, planted her feet on the mattress as pleasure, sharp and sweet, coursed through her body. Using her other hand, she went back to playing with her nipples, pinching, squeezing… desperate… two fingers sank deep into her body… she was panting, moaning, making more noise than she ever had before… oh, God, she was so close…
Warm hands skimmed up the outsides of her legs… soft hair
trailed over her knee right before a wet, rough tongue scraped over the inside of her thigh.
“Yes,” she hissed, pulling her fingers out of her sheath to concentrate on her clit, upping the ache of anticipation by cutting off the onset of orgasm.
Simon’s fingers curled around the waistband of her panties and, with one sharp jerk, he pulled her panties all the way down her legs. He could see everything, her wet fingers playing between her legs, her pouting outer lips, her hungry inner lips…
He swiped his tongue across the back of her wrist.
“Yes,” she said, a little louder than before.
Blunt, male fingertips skated up the inside of her thighs. His breath feathered the curls between her legs and still she touched herself, not willing to give up her part in this. She was close and he didn’t know the first thing about her body. She didn’t trust him to do this right, no man ever had. They’d always been so focused on getting her off, not for the pleasure of making her feel good but to stroke their own egos and, somewhere in the middle of it all, she’d sensed that and had always ended up having to fake it. But not tonight.
But she wasn’t stupid. She’d let him help. After all, his fingers were thicker than hers and it had been so long since she’d felt a man’s hands on her body, between her legs…
“Put your fingers inside me,” she ordered, thrilling at the husky tone of authority in her voice.
Simon obeyed, pushing two blunt tipped, deliciously thick male fingers inside her at the same moment his mouth latched onto the soft flesh of her inner thigh.
Her sheath contracted around the invasion, greedily trying to pull his fingers deeper. She lifted her hips, an invitation to thrust that he ignored.
“Come on,” she gasped out. “I’m close, please.”
He licked where he had been sucking, easing the burning ache of having marked her flesh. “Move,” he urged and she understood.
He would provide the penetration and she would control the depth and motion.
“Yes,” she whispered, pushing with her hips until his fingers were buried deep inside, until his fist pressed against her ass and she ground even farther, rolling her hips up. He crooked his fingers, raked against the soft pad of flesh deep inside.
“God, yes, right there, don’t move,” she panted, moving her hips against his hand with small, short thrusts. She could hear his labored breathing and, just under that, the soft, wet sound of his fingers moving in and out of her body. Sensation screamed up her spine and quickly sent her over the edge. She came, bearing down on his fingers so hard she screamed at the jarring sensation of all her muscles locking up as one then letting go, flooding her with a mindless pleasure she felt from the top of her head to the soles of her feet and everywhere in between.
As she slowly floated back to earth, she again felt the rough texture of his tongue on the inside of her thigh, his breath warm and fast on her damp skin. Then he slowly straightened his fingers and her inner muscles fluttered once then clamped down hard.
His breath left him in a rush.
“Again,” he whispered, coaxing, his fingers scissoring, stretching the tight ring of muscle at her opening.
She flexed her hips and opened her eyes.
And came, staring into Simon’s dark eyes. Her fantasy made flesh, sprawled on his stomach between her spread thighs, a hard wine-red flush staining his sharp cheekbones as he slowly pulled his fingers out of her body and languidly, without breaking eye-contact, he licked the taste of her from his skin.
***
Simon slowly pulled his fingers out of Georgina’s body, shud-
dering when her inner muscles pulsed once, as if in protest. He watched her as he licked his fingers, watched her as her eyes slid closed.
“Tell me what you were thinking,” he whispered, his breath stirring the curls covering her mound. She tried to close her legs.
“Too late for that, you already let me in,” he said, rubbing his cheek against the satin smooth skin of her inner thigh. She smelled incredible, warm and salty sweet, the wet luscious scent of her arousal streaked through him. “Tell me.”
“That wasn’t…” she began.
“Part of the deal? Too bad. Tell me,” Simon hissed, frustrated that she would share her body but not her thoughts. He was seconds from letting this go and just screwing her senseless but he wanted more. He wanted inside, and not just her body.
Watching Georgina pleasure herself had been the most erotic thing he had ever seen and he’d seen plenty. At the beginning, emotions had flittered across her face, one after the other, embarrassment, frustration, even a small, mocking smile and then she’d settled in with a deep sigh, touching her body with such skillful hands he’d broken out into a sweat even before she’d gotten her bra off. Then bringing herself close to orgasm time and again only to back off, teasing him until it had been reach for her or gnash his teeth into dust.
And here he was, back to that point, his body strung so tight she had to feel it, had to know he was seconds from pouncing on her.
“I was,” Georgina paused, cleared her throat and then, so softly he initially thought he hadn’t heard her correctly, said, “I was pretending that you were paying to watch me.”
Simon’s ears might have taken a second to catch what she’d said but his body instantly understood. And approved, so much so Simon figured his brain was never going to function quite so well again. But who cared? He was crawling up her body before he fully realized what he was doing, sliding one hand under her head, settling his hips between hers spread thighs (thankfully he still had his jeans on or he would have been inside her and to hell with the condom). When her eyes flew open, he rolled over onto his back, taking her with him, settling her wide open pussy firmly over his jean clad erection.
“Hey,” she breathed, writhing a little in his grip, whether to get away or closer completely beside the point, Simon didn’t bother wondering which. She wasn’t going anywhere.
“How much do I owe you for the show?” he asked, digging the fingers of one hand into her hair, pulling out pins as he found them.
“I don’t know,” she said, her gaze dropping to his mouth then skittering away.
“Five hundred seems fair,” Simon replied
, messing up her hair as he searched for more pins. When he didn’t find any, he threw the ones he had off the bed where they landed on the floor with a scattering of faint pings.
“Five hundred, huh?” she asked, settling more fully upon him.
“No checks this time. For this, I only accept cash.”
“I don’t have that much on me,” Simon replied, burying both his hands wrist deep in her gorgeous, curly hair. “You are such a fraud.
Do you iron yourself out every morning or is it an ongoing, all day process?”
“On-going,” she replied, never once losing her smile. “And just how are you proposing to pay me, Mr. Campbell?”
Simon grinned. So he was still Mr. Campbell, was he? Damn
but he’d had no idea that ruffling her feathers was going to be this much fun.
“Here’s the deal,” Simon said. “Every time I can get you to say my first name, you knock fifty bucks off my bill.”
Georgina’s smile turned into a superior smirk. “Sounds fair to me.”
“And if you go over the five hundred, then you end up ow-
ing me,” he said, running the palms of his hands down her back.
She arched into his touch, gently biting her full lower lip when he cupped her luscious ass in his hands. “I’m not even going to ask what the hell you were thinking hiding a body like this under that dress. Unless, of course, you’d like to tell me.”
Georgina purred under his touch. Leaning forward until her hard little nipples scraped his chest and her lips brushed the shell of his ear, she whispered, “I have no interest in a man that is more interested in the wrapper than the candy.”
Simon huffed out a laugh even as he admired her logic. She had a beautiful figure—long legged, full-hipped, a small waist and pretty little breasts with small, gorgeous nipples that she was even now gently brushing over his chest. Shrink-wrapped in modern, come-and-get-it fashions, she would spend half her day beating men off with a stick but, draped in the awful dresses she favored she blithely flew under most men’s radar.
Thank God she’d been such a bitch to him. If she hadn’t, he might never have noticed her, might never have chased her down tonight and never know what she looked like standing before him wearing nothing but her underwear.