Hot and Bothered

by Crystal Green

  There. They were back on track. And it seemed she’d found one of his “places”—an erogenous zone.

  Score one for her.

  The rush of control she’d been looking for when she’d started this up fueled her desire, and she felt all-powerful, on top of the world when, just less than an hour ago, she’d been at rock bottom.

  God bless sex.

  Slowly, she licked the tip of him, taking in the slight beads of moisture that’d gathered there. The taste was salty, mixing with the trace of cherry juice still in her mouth. Emboldened even more, she swirled her tongue around his head, reaching up to draw his trousers down a little. At the same time, she lifted his shaft and eased her tongue under him, licking all the way up and then taking him into her mouth.

  One of his hands let go of her hair, and she could feel his weight shift as he braced himself on the counter. She slid her free hand between his legs, caressing his sac, and he moaned as if she were torturing him.

  The reset was definitely going her way now.

  She worked her mouth on him—up, down, around and about. He shifted his hips, and she followed his motion.

  “Dammit,” he said as if he was about to lose it. “You’ve learned some tricks.”

  And she was just getting started.

  Again she told herself to stop thinking, to feel the pleasure as much as he was feeling it, because too much thinking was what had caused her to be such an embarrassed disaster with him the first time.

  So she stopped thinking. She enjoyed. She loved him all the way, satisfying him until—

  He came into her mouth, and she let him, every bit of hot, sticky, salty wetness a testimony to how she’d just rewritten history.

  But obviously his mission wasn’t accomplished.

  Without warning, he roughly pulled her up, bringing her against his mouth with a fever that she wasn’t prepared for, and they bumped teeth.

  As they pulled back from each other, she pressed a hand to her lips. He said another “fuck.” But then they were right back at it.

  Still, they were in such a hurry to get at each other that their rhythms were off, yet he solved that by changing pace, cupping her ass, lifting her up, pushing her onto the counter. Her skin slid against it, giving her a burn.

  “Sorry,” he murmured.

  “No sorry,” she murmured back.

  She couldn’t even speak English, because her mind had blipped out of order, leaving a field of buzzing static as they fell into a kiss again, making up for lost time. The only thing she could think was that, when they were done, both of them would have the other out of their systems. No more wondering, no more aching . . .

  He pushed her legs apart, and she heaved in a breath, breaking away from his lips. She liked how he’d taken charge, liked how he wasn’t hiding how much he wanted to bang her.

  “Let me see all of you,” he said gruffly, hitching his arms beneath her legs until they were hooked over his elbows.

  Spreading her wide for his eyes only.

  That’s how it seemed at least as he visually drank her in. Air beat against her clit, and she was so wet for him that she was sure she was glistening down there, pink and ready.

  His gaze was famished, his hair a mess, giving him a rapacious and wild look. “I never saw all of you that night,” he said. “But I could imagine. And you’re beyond imagining, Rochelle . . .”

  A burst of ecstasy twirled through her just before he guided one of her legs to the side of the counter, where she braced her foot against the iron linen shelf. He traced his fingers under her bottom, coming dangerously close to her pussy.

  The look on his face sent a bolt of pressure through her, dividing her down the middle, leaving a pulsing force that threatened to split her open.

  “How many men have done this to you?” he asked.

  “Enough of them.”

  “Is that how you know how to work me so good?”

  She started to answer, but he only smiled cruelly, sneaking his fingers over her bottom and walking them through her folds to her clit.

  Mindlessly, she kicked at the linen shelf, and it wobbled.

  When he fluttered his fingers around her pussy, she kicked again, sending the shelf crashing forward.

  The slam of iron against marble tile startled her, and she sat up on the counter as he glanced over, too.

  Whoops?

  But he didn’t seem to mind her spastic response all that much, because he bent down, burying his face between her legs, kissing her until she lost her grip on the counter and started tumbling forward.

  Shit!

  As she fell off the counter, he managed to catch her and roll her to the floor. Then he was back between her legs, laving and devouring.

  Sloppy, inept . . . she was unhinged, moaning with every stroke of his lips and tongue, and her mind wouldn’t shut the hell up again. Could she be the best he’d ever had, even after the bumbling? Because after their first bad sex night, that’s all she’d wanted to show him—that she could’ve been so good, his best ever. His ultimate . . .

  She winced in joy as he used his fingers to spread her pussy, to go deeper into her with his tongue, making her arch off the floor. Was he also out to wipe away the memory of every other man she’d ever been with?

  As he pressed on her clit, she mewled. Damn, he was great at this, and she lay back, trying not to think about all the women he’d had, all the ones who’d overshadowed her over the years . . .

  Even as liquid tickles filled her up, splashing against her belly, getting hotter, thicker every time he moved his tongue inside her, she couldn’t let go of their past . . . his past . . .

  Passion boiled everywhere, still bubbling, going nowhere and . . . God, how long was she going to just bubble and not come?

  As long as she kept thinking?

  She felt him stop his oral attentions, realizing that he was watching her, his hands holding her hips, his chin resting on her belly just above her mons. She flushed from head to toe.

  “Just relax, Shel,” he said.

  Was he giving her advice on how to orgasm?

  The old embarrassment covered her inside and out. Long ago, she’d been unable to please him as much as she’d wanted to. Now it seemed history was repeating itself.

  Anger—at herself for not being able to let go—joined the embarrassment. No, it overtook it.

  “Are you in some kind of hurry?” she asked, defensive. “Because we haven’t finished.”

  “It’ll be a bit before I can finish anything on my end, girl. But I don’t mind being down here all day if that’s what it takes.”

  Girl? Did he still see her as that inept teen who’d only grown into an inept woman?

  She closed her eyes. Awkward sex, part two.

  As if sensing that, he didn’t say another word, just pushed her legs so she was open for him once more. He gave her another rousing kiss, and when he touched his tongue to her clit, she rocked against him.

  He chuckled. “Now that’s how to relax, baby.”

  She stiffened up, still defensive, and he sighed against her, and she knew for certain that she wasn’t the only one thinking they couldn’t get their act together.

  Should she tell him to just get back to it? Her body wasn’t exactly cooling off—not with his mouth an inch from her sex—and she wanted to strike while the iron was hot. Then, when he recuperated and his iron was hot again, they could really close the deal.

  But why was she still feeling like an inexperienced dweeb of a virgin while he was the master of hot sex? She hated being the dorky one, which was exactly how she’d felt after sex the first time.

  He eased up from her body, his sweaty chest over hers, remnants of the juice still sticky between them.

  “Rochelle . . .” He kissed the underside of her breast, and the weight of it lifted, c
oming back down again when he was done. The sensual movement spiked her. “I’m not telling you how to do anything. It’s just been a stressful day, and I want to make you feel good.”

  He kissed her other nipple, ran his tongue around it. Rochelle shifted her hips beneath him, feeling his cock against her thigh, not quite ready to go yet.

  But as long as he kept kissing and nuzzling and pumping her up, they’d make it there eventually . . .

  As he kept loving her breasts, he reached between her legs, slipping his fingers into her, curling them up until he touched a part of her she hadn’t known existed.

  Was it her mythical G-spot?

  Oh, God. Oh. My. God.

  He kept hitting it, too, and her mind started to go utterly blank, zapping in and out like an electric toy sparking, malfunctioning in a spray of growing sparks . . .

  When she heard a ringing in her ears, she thought it was her at first. But then Gideon said the loudest “fuck!” yet and paused in his expert diddling, reaching for his trousers.

  His phone?

  Seriously?

  As it kept ringing, reality came back to her, slowly but surely. It hadn’t been more than an hour ago that she’d been attacked at the Rough & Tumble. Life was still going on outside of this room.

  Everything she’d been trying to avoid couldn’t be avoided.

  Gideon answered it. “Yeah?” He was still hunched over her, looking into her eyes, as if he was starting to face reality again, too.

  The speakerphone was on, and so was Suzanne’s voice. “Gideon? I’ve been trying to call Rochelle but she’s not answering.”

  Great. She’d left her phone downstairs—brilliant move.

  “She’s fine,” Gideon said. “I’m looking at her right now.”

  And Rochelle couldn’t look away from him. She ran her gaze over that dimple in his chin, the firmness of his jaw, the dark gunpowder burn that beckoned to her. Without thinking, she touched it.

  He turned his face aside, and Rochelle’s hand stayed motionless. Did he regret what’d just happened with them? If so, that would be a special bonus of humiliation.

  “Rochelle?” Suzanne asked. “Are you there?”

  Rochelle had the feeling that Suzanne had already asked the same question while she’d been off in the ether. The expression on Gideon’s face confirmed it.

  “I’m here, Sue,” she said.

  “I was so worried when you didn’t answer your phone.”

  “My mistake.” It occurred to her that she was naked and talking to her manager, who was a grandma. She scooted away from Gideon, her body protesting the whole way, still beating for him, her clit pierced with an ache. “Is everything okay?”

  “Relatively. The cops have been trying to contact you about the incident at the Rough and Tumble, so you’ll want to listen to the message and call them back ASAP. Also, I’ve straightened things out with the press and rescheduled your interviews later today at one private location that they’re not to disclose. They’re very sympathetic about these creepers.”

  A flicker of anger traveled through Rochelle again at the thought of how the creepers were ruling her life.

  She should show them—go out, post it all over social media that she was having the time of her life, flip the bird to them, and show them that terrorizing her won’t work.

  Cherry wouldn’t have stood for that kind of crap. Why should she?

  Suzanne kept talking, and Rochelle glanced at Gideon, who had gone stone-faced while getting back into his clothing, the fantasy over for now.

  As Rochelle watched him, she felt robbed of something more than her freedom—something that lodged deep in her chest, lost for a second time.

  And she wanted that back, too.

  ***

  Gideon’s cock had gotten him into regretful situations more than once in his lifetime. He’d accidentally slept with one of his teacher’s daughters in his Jean, Nevada, high school, not knowing who she was because . . . well, she’d come home from college to visit one Christmas break and things had just happened in the Rough & Tumble like they usually did. But that had been nothing, because he’d seduced that very same teacher the following semester.

  Regret had ensued in both cases, although not for long, after they’d both come back for more that summer.

  But after Gideon had grown up a little, found a real job, and taken a measure of pride in doing it well, he’d told himself that there were boundaries, one of them being his clients.

  So this was a different kind of regret from any he’d ever experienced.

  He wasn’t regretful because Rochelle had gone through the ringer today, and he should’ve kept his mitts off her—she’d been all over him, and she was smart enough to know that there were certain biological things that happened with guys when they got all stirred up and it was hard to put the brakes on. No, that wasn’t it. And he didn’t even regret suggesting that she should relax when he’d been trying to make her come—he’d felt how high-strung she was and had been doing his best to bring her down from it. Yeah, he’d tweaked her pride, but he’d just been about to solve that issue when real life had intruded in the form of Suzanne’s call.

  That was when the true regret had arrived, because it’d reminded him clearly about who he was. Her protector.

  Now, the longer she talked on the phone, the more he started to feel that this rendezvous was a stain on his personal pride, something he’d never had much of while growing up. Lord knew his parents hadn’t encouraged any—he’d earned pride all by himself.

  But now where was it?

  As he wondered, Rochelle hung up with Suzanne. She’d managed to put on her bra and panties, but that was all. And that was not enough.

  Gideon averted his gaze, because the only thing that would come from looking at her like this was more regret. What had he been thinking in the first place?

  Damn straight he wouldn’t be finding out again.

  She handed over his phone, and he could’ve sworn that disappointment was bugging her, just as it’d done after their first time together. Was she going to run off now?

  It wouldn’t surprise him if she did. Maybe it’d even get his life back to normal.

  He reached over to hand her the rest of her clothes. “You should put these on.”

  She didn’t say anything for a moment. Was she thinking that he was setting her aside, now that they’d played around? Far from it, because he couldn’t get the taste of her, the feel of her out of him.

  And that pissed him off for certain. He didn’t do anything beyond playing tap and go with women, and she shouldn’t be any different.

  He turned away from her and then heard her pulling her clothing on. Relief edged into him.

  It only grew when she laughed, as if in conciliation. “Are you suffering from buyer’s remorse?”

  “No.” He frowned. “I enjoyed every second. But it shouldn’t have happened.”

  “Oh.” Then she laughed again, and he thought he caught a twinge of hurt in the sound. “You’re right, though. This doesn’t exactly make our professional relationship easier.”

  He should’ve been relieved that she wasn’t making a big deal out of this, but the same disappointment that’d hounded him after that first night was back, and it was worse than ever.

  His buried teen libido spoke from the back of his mind: If you’re so good at fucking, then why isn’t she falling all over you? Maybe she wasn’t ever that into you, quick-draw.

  Or maybe that was just the echo of his dad belittling him, not necessarily about sex but about everything else—being lazy, being too dumb to make anything of himself, being rebellious.

  Maybe all he was to her was a piece of ass she’d wanted to revisit, just because she could—and just because that was his reputation. She was a woman of the world, after all. She could have what she wanted.


  “This shouldn’t have happened,” he repeated. “It was my fault.”

  “Please.” She pulled on more clothing, and if there’d been any hurt in her tone before, it was gone now. In fact, she sounded as gangbusters as ever. “It would’ve taken a rock to withstand the pass I was making at you.”

  “I’m paid to be your rock.”

  He thought he heard her swallow. It could’ve been that she was recalling this morning, when he’d shielded her from the saloon creeper.

  Before things got all emotional, she stood. He took that as a sign that he could do the same, and he snuck a glance at her.

  She was more desirable than ever, all sexed up and bed-headed, her cheeks flushed and giving her green eyes a libidinous glow.

  Down boy, he told himself. No more regrets. Even if his cock was dying to show her that they could have earth-shattering sex if they tried again.

  No more trying, though. They both knew better.

  “So,” she said, as resolute as ever. “How about we forget this happened? Because I don’t want to lose my bodyguard.”

  She held out her hand, wanting him to shake it. He marveled. How could this be so easy for her?

  But he was her man, and he wouldn’t ever leave her to the creepers. He’d only step up his professional game from now on.

  Taking her hand in his, he looked her in the eye. She was so cool as they shook that he wondered if their rendezvous had actually happened.

  But as she turned and looked in the mirror, trying to get her hair back to rights, he thought he noticed a slice of that hurt in her gaze.

  Was he wrong? Because then it was gone in a flash.

  “You heard Suzanne about the media interviews tonight, right?” she said, back on firm ground between them.

  Hallelujah. “I heard.”

  “And you approve? Because you’re my security advisor, and I don’t want to fly in your face.”

  Damn, the air had gone frosty in here. “You’re taking precautions with the arrangements, so Suzanne’s plan sounds fine to me. I’m here to protect and serve.”

  “You don’t sound enthusiastic about my going out.”

  “I told you before that staying in would be your safest bet, but life isn’t always ideal.”