Wicked Games

Damn, but he didn’t care anymore.

Not when she stood there at the edge of the sofa, her bare skin glowing with the last of a summer tan. All of her skin, it seemed, but for a tiny strip where two strings would’ve tied a triangle of a bikini bottom over her mound.

Her nipples were a luscious peachy-pecan in the center of breasts too perfect to be real. Lucky man that he was, he knew that particular truth, however. His mouth began to water; his John Henry began to bob.

Enough with the ankle bondage and Kinsey not being underneath him. He sat up and swung around and was out of his sweater before his shoes hit the floor. He kicked them off; his pants followed. His shirt lost more than a button or two; his patience went flying off in the same direction.

She was just standing there, enjoying his struggle and looking as if being naked was as natural as not. Once he’d dug a condom from his billfold, he wasted no time in letting her know how much he liked her lack of inhibition, pulling her to stand between his legs and using his mouth the way he’d been waiting to forever.

As she took the condom from his hand and opened the packet, he held her hips and settled his mouth over her sex. He licked his way in and out of her folds until she whimpered and squirmed and did everything she could to push him down on to his back.

“Not yet, darlin’,” he mumbled into her sweetly swollen pussy. She tasted wonderful, clean and salty, as if she spent her days sunbathing after a Mediterranean swim. He swirled his tongue over and around her clit, then used his fingers to spread her open and push his tongue inside her.

She gasped even as she widened her stance and shoved her fingers into his hair to hold him where she wanted. He didn’t mind, but it wasn’t as if he was going anywhere just yet. He was having too much of a good time tasting and teasing and slurping her up to let go.

Except Kinsey decided she had other ideas, and moved a step away. He looked up into her mischievous eyes, a blond nymph toying with his condom packet as if he were a donkey and she held his carrot in her hand. In a manner of speaking, he supposed she did.

He sat back, his legs spread in a wide V, his hands laced on his belly behind his erection, which was more than ready for some action.

She tapped the condom wrapper to her chin as she considered all he had to offer. When she seemed to make up her mind, she dropped to her knees before him and rolled the sheath to the base of his shaft.

Thing was, while she was down there she made sure to let him know she wasn’t the least bit intimidated or put off by the male anatomy. For at least five minutes worth of what seemed like forever, he sat like a statue through kisses and forays she made with her fingers and tongue. He felt every end of every nerve fire off round after round of sensation that was not the least bit wholesome, but was sweet in ways that had him biting down on a mouthful of instructional expletives.

Just when he was ready again to grab her and toss her on to her back, she moved away, pushed his knees together, turned and straddled his lap in reverse. Sweet, gorgeous, baby, doll. The movement gave him such a memorable view of her ass that he swore he’d take the picture to his grave.

Then, reaching between her legs, she took hold of his cock and guided him to where he needed to be, lowering herself until he was completely buried in the hottest sweetest piece he’d ever had the pleasure to know.

Pleasure. No, that was weak. The word failed to cover half of what he felt when she took him inside. But he had to keep this physical. Feeling he could deal with; feeling rocked his world. Feeling meant he didn’t have to think.

He wasn’t sure what to do with his hands, finally setting them at her hips, where he could guide her angle, control her speed. He hated having to hold her at all; sitting back and just enjoying the view suited him just fine.

Seeing the sloping arch of her back, the wide-open space between her legs that revealed exactly what she was giving him and where his cock was buried…

He groaned, watching Kinsey slide down until his entire shaft disappeared, her hands braced on his knees for leverage and balance. Her tiny breathy moans had him clenching his gut and slipping one hand between her legs the next time she rose enough to give him the room.

He slid a finger through her wet folds to her clit, fingering the tight knot, testing her response, whether she liked soft and slow or hard and persistent or teasing butterfly flicks.

She liked all of it, judging by the way she pushed against him, ground against him, covered his hand with one of hers and pressed hard.

She cried out, softly at first, then with more volume as her contractions hit. She tightened around him, shuddering as she came, and then he couldn’t wait another single second. He unloaded hard and fast, thrusting upward and spilling himself until he was totally empty and spent.

He sank back into the sofa; Kinsey settled on to his lap, turning to face him without ever springing him free. How she managed, he had no idea. But he was glad that she still held him inside.

For a few more seconds, he needed this connection. He needed it more than he’d thought he could need anything from a woman. No. Anything from Kinsey.

And it was his Kinsey-specific need that made it hard to let her go.

Made it hard to admit that he wasn’t ready to go.

Made it hard to know if he ever would be.

KINSEY PULLED her bathrobe back up on to her shoulder and jabbed her fork into her salad. She was famished; earlier, she’d been too edgy to eat. Dessert first was a policy she’d have to adopt. At least when dining on Doug.

Dining on Doug.

She liked the sound of that, and she had certainly enjoyed the reality. “Mmm,” she moaned around a bite of chicken. “I don’t know why I was so worried. This is actually pretty good.”

One of Doug’s brows winged up as he looked at her over his glass of wine. “I thought you said you weren’t worried.”

“Did I?” she asked in all innocence.

“Yes. You did.”

“Hmm,” she hedged, ignoring his laugh at her lie. “Well, maybe I was a bit. But now I’m thinking I’d like to do this more often.” She reached for another slice of chicken breast. “You can be my guinea pig. At least for as long as you’re here.”

She hated adding that last part, but she had to face that one round of sexual Olympics was not going to convince him to continue calling Houston home. One round hadn’t even convinced her that she wanted him to stay.

Or so she deluded herself into thinking.

“I’m definitely game.” Doug reached over to drizzle papaya glaze onto her chicken. “On one condition.”

“What’s that?”

He paused, waited until she looked up from cutting her chicken before dropping his bomb. “That you’ll serve dessert first every time.”

He was so incredibly cute when he teased her. She loved that they were so comfortable together already that neither one of them hesitated to speak their mind.

After they’d showered and dressed and reheated the food, he’d made sure that his chair and hers were as close to the same corner of the square table as possible.

The result had been a lot of bumped knees and a very crowded table, but Kinsey adored him for wanting to keep her near. “Sex does rather stir up the appetite, doesn’t it?” She suppressed a grin while cutting her food. “I kinda like the idea of dessert first.”

“Kinsey.” Doug’s eyes flashed as he pulled his chair even closer. “Don’t tease me like that unless you mean it, darlin’.”

“Why, Doug Storey.” She swirled a bite of chicken through the puddle of glaze. “When have you ever known me to say something I didn’t mean?”

“Sixteen months ago on the veranda of Coconut Caye.”

Whoa! A blast from the past out of nowhere. If she’d had anything in her mouth, she would likely have choked. “During the group’s vacation? What did I say?”

He sat back in his chair, his knees spread wide, his unbuttoned shirt hanging open. She wanted to crawl into his lap and bury her nose in his skin, but decided this was not the right time.

No matter that he looked terribly dejected.

Strange. Why would he be dejected over something said so long ago in the heat of the moment and under the influence of rum?

“Then you don’t remember.”

She finished with the bite of her chicken, then moved to toy with what was left of her salad. “I remember…several things.”