Sets Appeal Page 9

  “The guys know who you sleep with,” she said in a careful voice, her forehead slightly creased.

  He shook his head. “Not a chance. They don’t know you were here the first time, and they won’t know you are here tonight.”

  “I’m not talking about me. I’m talking about another, unnamed woman. Steve saw her on Wednesday morning and he assumes you are having a relationship with her. What would she think if she knew I spent the night?”

  He shrugged. “What would Steve have thought if he saw her leaving last Sunday morning? The same thing, but you were here. You know Lonny only dropped in. She often does that. And she knows you spent the night, though she doesn’t know who you are.”

  She wet her lips, clearly mulling over the information. Finally, she gave a long deep sigh. “I don’t want to put myself in the position of being the other woman. You insist you are not having a relationship with her, and since you’re not with her tonight and you weren’t with her last Saturday night, or Sunday, and I know she dropped by on Sunday morning, I have to believe you. I also know I can sleep platonically with you. That couch is a two-seater. A man your size couldn’t possibly spend the night there.” She looked away. “I don’t want to make this a big deal when it isn’t, and if I sleep over we can get the ceiling done in no time. I’m really dying to see the sheets off the floor, and the whole picture. The reveal. The part I love best about sets is when the curtain rises and I can see the first visual of the story.”

  “So, that means you’re staying over?”

  She nodded. “And this time I want hot milk in bed, not cold.” She poked his chest and sounded rich and spoiled. Then she laughed, ruining the whole effect. “Although I would have liked you to be attracted to me, it’s much better this way. I can stay over without feeling awkward.”

  Which, of course, put him out no end. If he had said he was attracted to her, she wouldn’t assume she could sleep with him platonically. He’d had no intention of being her guy-pal. He was Lonny’s guy-pal. He wanted Vix. He wanted her arms and legs around him, her mouth on his, and he wanted to hear her sighs. He wanted to comb his fingers through her soft, shiny hair, and he wanted to clench a bunch while he kissed her as he thrust inside her.

  Okay, he wanted her to feel relaxed with him as well, but that was purely because the sex would be better if she wasn’t defensive, as she had been on the first night, defensive, scared, and assuming she could use him. Possibly another man wouldn’t mind being used that way, but for him, sex needed to be more than simply physical exercise.

  Relaxing his shoulders and trying for a casual tone, he said, “And to make sure neither of us feels awkward in the morning, I’m pulling the couch over to block the kitchen door. I don’t want another early morning visitor.”

  “Why does she have a key to your house?”

  “She lived here for a while after her last relationship blew up. I didn’t ask for the key back because it didn’t matter then. It does now, and I’ll get it back.” He smiled at her, pleased to see she didn’t look at all distrustful nor even slightly suspicious of his motive in getting her to stay the night, not that he really had a motive. He simply had a hope that sleeping with him in his bed would keep her comfortable around him. Relaxed and enjoyable sex would follow on from that. “I assume you’ll want something to wear to bed, since your underwear will be elsewhere.” He sucked in a breath, wishing he didn’t know that.

  “I’m not wearing any frilly negligee of yours,” she said with mock affront. “I’m more of a T-shirt girl.”

  He grinned. “I can manage a T-shirt.” Under the guise of assessing her size, he assessed her shapely body, hoping he looked nothing but platonic. He felt anything but platonic, and he had to leave to disguise the fact that his “um” would likely betray the truth.

  After rummaging in a bedroom drawer for a while, he found an old and very big black T-shirt with a motorbike on the front. He offered this, and he left the bedroom and bathroom to her while he returned the TV and coffee table to the hallway and shifted the couch in front of the back door. Finally, he heard her leave the bathroom and enter his bedroom. By the time he got there, too, teeth cleaned and with condoms aplenty, she was lying on the far side of the bed, her hair loose over the pillow, the sheet pulled up to her chin, and clearly fast asleep.

  He rubbed the back of his neck, sighing. He had let her work too hard during the day. Now he had his just desserts. She was exhausted. Dressed in his pajama shorts, he climbed into bed, too.

  Chapter 8

  Vix threshed, half-asleep, half-awake, and wholly aroused. She rolled from her back to her side, squeezing her thighs together to contain the sexual heightening that had only ever happened in her sleep. The intense excitement would end if she fully awoke, leaving her throbbing and unfulfilled. Her eyelids tightened and her hand grasped between her legs, gripping, letting go, not knowing what to do to ease her frustration. Her head whipped from side to side and she moaned softly, needing an end, wanting the culmination of the orgasm that never came.

  When she rolled against JD’s knee, she snapped into awareness. She pressed her lips together, closed her throat, and stopped squirming, but he straightened his leg and pulled her into his big comforting body. His solid chest molded to her back and his hand spanned her belly. She covered his fingers with hers, hoping he wouldn’t wake up, but the waves of pleasure kept her rocking, kept her thighs tight, her mouth shut, and her aching need foremost.

  With a sleepy mutter, JD tilted her hip back so that she half lay on top of him. Only the cotton of his sleeping shorts separated them. She moved her palm backwards to the skin of his hard, muscled thigh to reassure him, and he settled his lips in the juncture of her neck and shoulder while moving slightly away. For a moment, she dropped flat before, with one arm, he turned her belly to belly with him.

  His eyes were shut and he breathed steadily. The man was clearly sleep-cuddling. Her noises hadn’t woken him, nor had her thrashing around. Fortunately, she was fully awake now and easing down from her desperate peak. Between her legs, the throb turned into a mere tingle. She would sleep again soon, too, or she might have had he not given a twist of his hips. She almost gasped. His erection pressed into her from her pubis to her waist.

  She contained herself. At no stage had his regular breathing pattern changed. He still drew in breath like a man asleep. She wished she could take advantage of him, open her legs, and rub herself against that beautiful hard tool of his, but surely that would be unethical. And so she lay against him, trying to pretend she was asleep, too. Deciding to retreat slowly, she eased back her top leg.

  His hand caught her knee, which he placed over his hip and held. He moved right into her and his penis, dick, whatever he called the thing, pressed lengthwise between her legs. The pleasure was so intense that she shuddered.

  “JD,” she said, barely above a whisper. “Are you awake?”

  He made a low sound like a laugh. “You’d better believe it.”

  “Do you know what you are doing to me?”

  “Nothing…yet.”

  “You’re teasing me.” Tim had never leaned into her with an erection. His male body part had shriveled when she came near and he needed her hand to build him to pleasure, or her mouth, and if she made the slightest wrong move, he shriveled again. “You’re making me…ache.” With her ineptness, she had driven Tim to another woman, a sexy, beautiful woman. Vix had also turned JD off last week by wanting to have sex with him. “It’s not fair.”

  He took a short breath. “How do you expect a man to sleep when you sound as if you want him—feel as if you want him?”

  “I do.” Her pulses jumped and shifted into her chest. “Want you.”

  Very slowly, he put a hand on the nape of her neck and combed his fingers up though her hair, setting the mass on top of her head. “So, will you let me give you pleasure?” He breathed against her throat.

  “You are giving me pleasure.”

 
“So, let’s get you naked and more pleasured.” He kissed below her ear again, and then grasped the hem of the T-shirt she wore.

  She was fit and slim now and not ashamed of her figure. However, her self-consciousness stayed his hand for a moment. He couldn’t see her, she knew, and he probably wouldn’t tell her if she didn’t look good. Taking in a tentative breath, she relaxed her grip, and he lifted the T-shirt over her head. Surreptitiously naked and trying to wear her skin with confidence, she pushed at him, sat up, and flicked the cover to the end of the bed.

  He hadn’t slept bare as the other woman had said, and so, thudding with apprehension, she leaned over him and put her hands under the elastic waistband of his shorts.

  He half turned, and lifted to one elbow. “Not so fast.”

  Her mouth dried and the previous scenario flashed through her mind. He would kiss her, keep teasing her; then he would decide that they both needed a glass of milk. She knew that if he only played with her expectations this time, she would give up completely. “If I’m bare, the least you could do is take off those shorts.”

  He flipped off his shorts, and she wished he slept with the blind up. She wanted to see the whole of his naked body. Already she knew the dressed detail, the wide shoulders, the muscular arms, the lean hips, the tight buttocks, and his long legs. Her eyes had adjusted slightly to the dark and she could see his outline but not a lot of detail. She wanted to touch him to find out if he was still erect, but if she did and he had shriveled, she wouldn’t proceed. She didn’t want to take him into her mouth and pretend. Her sexual excitement waned and she turned onto her back, her wrist over her hot, prickling eyes.

  He leaned onto one elbow and combed his fingers through her hair again, lifting the bulk high and to the side of the pillow. Then, he bent over her and kissed her just below her jaw. His breath was hot and his naked upper body brushed her breasts. Her nipples tightened and her heart began to thunder again.

  She spread one tentative palm across his wide back, daring to hope but not daring to make a single wrong move. His lips began to explore every part of her face, from her chin, to her cheeks, to her forehead, to each of her eyes, and finally to her mouth, which he kissed lightly but thoroughly. He ran a hand down the side of her body beneath her buttocks, which he lifted under him as he shifted over her.

  She lay beneath him, the dampness between her legs embarrassing, while he ran slow kisses over her neck and face. She arched into him. Surely this time he would penetrate her. He’d widened her legs and let the bulk of his hardness press into her belly. Sliding her hands from the bunching muscles of his bottom to the flatness of his abdomen, she edged her fingers around his penis.

  He stopped her. Reaching under his pillow, he fumbled.

  “What?” she asked, breathless.

  “A condom.” He took the pack to his mouth, flicked his head, and tore across with his teeth. She saw the plastic flutter against his breath. Rising to his knees, he took the ring of latex out of the pack, which he blew away while he rolled the condom on.

  “You’re so good at that,” she said, now knowing for certain that last time he had deliberately ripped the condom, “you can even do it one-handed.”

  “Call it motivation.” Lifting over her, he supported his weight on his straight arms while he kept the pressure of his hips against her. His penis searched, parted her, and teased in her moisture. Desperately excited, she clutched his buttocks. He dropped the length of his body on her and rolled them both to one side. She clenched her teeth, making a sound of utter frustration.

  His mouth took hers in a long slow kiss, and when her neck relaxed, his palm opened over her breast. She moved his hand away. Continuing the kiss, he traced his fingers along the skin under her arm on the way to his former object, her breast. She squeezed his fingers and moved them to her hip. “I don’t like having my breasts touched,” she muttered against his mouth.

  He kissed her bottom lip while his uppermost hand passed between their bodies, tracking a path down her abdomen to the area between her legs. She held her breath, hoping he wouldn’t try to touch her, but he sought her moisture with his fingers. “No. Please. That hurts.”

  “What, this?” He touched her in the same susceptible place that made her nervy. She straightened her leg, denying him access. “Why does it hurt?

  “I’m sensitive there.”

  “You’re supposed to be sensitive there.”

  “Do I have to be like every other girl you’ve—screwed?”

  “No.” He shifted his hand to her hipbone.

  “You don’t have to prepare me. I’m ready. I’ve been ready for a week, and I want you to get it over with. I can’t bear this, being with the sexiest man I’ve ever met, and being teased.”

  “I’m sexy?” he said, cupping her buttocks. His lips searched her jaw, her chin, and her throat.

  “You’re big and hard and you smell good.”

  “You’re funny and sweet and you have a body that a man wants to do more than imagine. I want to put my hands all over you.”

  Since he was still erect, she knew her body appealed to him and so she wriggled against him, hooked one leg over his thigh and pressed her heel into the back of his knee, lifting her pelvis forward. “Please, please,” she whispered, cupping his face with her palms.

  He blew out his breath and eased her onto her back again. She widened her legs and rested her feet flat on the bed. His buttocks tightened, beginning a slow forward angling of hips and a penetration inside. He hurt her as he entered her, and she tightly clutched his bottom, trying to relax. If the sexiest man she’d known couldn’t give her enjoyment, no man could.

  She could see his face, his stark pleasure. His eyes half-closed, and she could hear him breathe though his mouth. The rhythm built and her body reacted with a surge of moisture. And her pleasure began to build until suddenly he stopped moving.

  “If you keep your hips still, I should be able to get you there before I finish.”

  She closed her eyes, breathing frantically, prepared to do anything he asked if she could just orgasm, just once not fail. The build-up, the anticipation had been everything she wanted and needed. Even the way his knees held hers apart excited her.

  He pulled out a little. His weight lifted and one of his hands pressed on her mound. Then, his fingers glided into her moisture.

  She opened her eyes. “No.”

  He froze. “Yes. It’ll have to be now.”

  “Well, do it now.” Pushing his hand away, she wound her legs firmly around him, urging him on with her hip movements.

  “I don’t know what the hell you’re doing to me. Vix, don’t you want—”

  “I want you. Now.” She closed her eyes, concentrating on her need. Her legs trembled and she arched her body. While he hesitated, she wanted to scream and tear at him. Her frustration had become a physical pain.

  He made a short, sharp sound of acceptance, and began to move again. She needed him too much, and she urged him with her body until he plunged harder and deeper, his slamming force shifting her until her head touched the wooden bed head. She clung to him and he grasped her and she knew she was building to a peak.

  He expanded inside her and stilled, breathing out. His heart pounded loud enough to hear. Nothing had happened. While she waited expectantly, he withdrew. She hadn’t experienced anything other than excitement. The anticipated climax had been the usual anti-climax.

  Disappointed, she turned her head away. The lurching of the bed told her he was disposing of the condom. She didn’t glance at him. She didn’t want to die, but she didn’t particularly want to give a party at that moment either.

  The bed dipped again as he moved to take her into his arms. She covered her chest with her elbows doubled to keep him away.

  “Yeah, well,” he said in a casual voice. “What did you expect? An orgasm?”

  “Yes,” she answered tersely.

  “Vix,” he said, his voice strained. �
�You said no.”

  “I couldn’t have asked more clearly. I thought you were different. I thought you could do it.”

  “Not with my hands tied. Do you usually have vaginal orgasms?”

  “You shouldn’t ask women things like that.”

  “Look, I don’t know anything about vaginal orgasms. I don’t know if a woman is having one, or faking. I do know about clitoral orgasms, though I suppose they could be faked, too. I just want to know which is more likely in your experience.”

  “Neither. That’s why I wanted you.”

  He rolled onto his back and put his palms beneath his head. “You wanted my dick. That’s what I gave you. A vibrator would be just as efficient.”

  Prickling with inadequacy, she curled herself into a protective ball. “I didn’t fail. It was you. I’m not frigid. I’m sure that when I find the right man…” She felt him shake his head.

  “You won’t have an orgasm without stimulation, not if you’ve never had one. Open your legs.” He leaned over her, jerked her arms aside, and with his elbow pressed her knee flat on the bed.

  She took her other leg over and curled away from him. With a sigh, he put a palm on each of her knees and eased them apart. Strangely enough, he didn’t frighten her, but he did embarrass her. What she had between her legs hadn’t been made to look at, and she couldn’t understand why he wasn’t repulsed.

  He dipped his head and licked her. Had she been able, she would have jerked away, but with her knees splayed apart, she could do no more than wriggle. Her back was already pressed against the bed head.

  “Okay. You’ve humiliated me enough,” she said, trying to sound casual. “You’ve implied I’m a failure. I don’t know that I need anything else.”

  “Since you don’t know, I’ll give you what I think you need.” He lifted her legs over his shoulders and stayed where he was.

  She leaned forward and grabbed his hair but his tongue flattened and soothed. Having his mouth caress her made her breath stop. Experiencing a sinful pleasure, instead of pulling his hair, she tangled her fingers into the soft shaggy mass. He lifted her buttocks and her legs relaxed. She made needy noise. Her knees fell to the crooks of his elbows. He angled his head slightly and the bristles on his chin rubbed her skin, but his tongue continued to soothe. Her head arched back farther. She knew she should stop him but every nerve center focused between her legs.