Heat Exchange(18)

When she couldn't stand the intensity anymore, her fingers moved in circles around her nipples. Before long she couldn't stand that either and she started plucking the tips, pulling them out and flinging her head around because the ache between her legs was so bad.

"You're doing fine, but don't forget to watch me, Janey."

His words startled her. She sat upright and blushed hotly. He was carrying the springform pan and looked so delectable walking across the kitchen floor that the hurting between her legs got abruptly much worse.

He chuckled and opened the oven door.

With the sound of the timer's beeps, Janey's body went on red alert and her pulse rate revved up. She shifted eagerly as she watched him approach.

"Four hundred fifty degrees," he intoned.

"Are we done now?" Her hands went motionless.

"What's that?" he said languidly and rested his hands on her shoulders.

"With the game? Can I stop touching myself?" And have my orgasm now, was her unspoken question.

"Mm, not yet. Let's wait for the timer to go off. Twenty minutes more, then I change the temperature and set the timer again. Then we'll say you've reached the second level."

"It's the last level, right?" she said in a panic.

"Yes. It'll be reward time. By the way, you're cute when you pet your own tits, Janey."

"Oh."

He took one of her hands off of its breast. "Feel what it does to me."

Janey leaned forward and reached down to touch the front of his jeans. At the feel of his pole-rigid flesh behind the denim, Janey's loins pulled tight and she circled her palm enthusiastically. Nyall groaned, stepping quickly back.

"Lie down, sweetheart."

Shaking with anticipation, Janey eased herself back until she was lying supine on the hard table. He walked around and slid something soft under her head. A folded-up towel, she realized vaguely. "Rub your tits," he prompted.

Her palms felt like fire scorching her breasts. "Please, Nyall."

He went to the foot of the table and firmly eased her legs apart. Only then did she realize how much relief she'd been getting from pressing them together, because now she couldn't stop writhing.

"You are so going to like your orgasm," he said. "In fifteen minutes."

"I can't take this," she wailed.

"Yes you can, because you're not saying avocado. Remember the elevator. Think about sitting on a bus and waiting for the driver to reach your bus stop." He sat down on a chair and shoved it to the foot of the table, then grasped her ankles and pulled her slowly closer to the edge.

"Please touch me," she said.

"Okay. But first pinch your nipples. Both of them at the same time. Hard."

She obeyed without thinking, then bit her lip and whimpered at the effect it had on her.

"I can see your clit peeking out of your pussy. Your pussy's really divine, by the way. Very shiny and lickable." His breath was there at her sex and Janey's hands clenched on her breasts to try to relieve the ache. "Do you know anything about the clitoris, Janey?"

"I—uh—I don't know."

"Normally it's got a protective hood around it. Right now, the hood is retracted and the bud is poking out. You're incredibly aroused. Close to coming."

"Oh," she moaned. "I didn't—know that. About the hood."

"Do you want my fingers inside you now, Janey?"

"Yes!"

Two fingers slid inside her with agonizing slowness. A third one joined them, and Janey nearly went out of her mind.

"Easy. Easy, sweetheart. The timer hasn't gone off yet. Try stroking your nipples very gently. That might help."

Janey forced herself to do what he said, even knowing from his teasing tone that Nyall was trying to drive her crazy. She used her palms lightly over her nipples. Coupled with his fingers stretching her passage, it made her body instantly seize up. She arched, so close to climax she could taste it.

She felt him blow on her sex. Felt him kiss the soft patch of fur above it.

"Do you think I should suck on your clit now? I mean, it's seriously swollen."

"You're doing this on purpose," she accused him.

"Oh, yeah. Do you want it? My mouth right—on—that little—clit?"

"Yes!"

"Soon," he said. "Wait just a few more minutes. You're not quite done with the second level."





Chapter 8




For Janey, his teasing was the last straw. Her senses were bloated—her skin sensitized to the lightest whiff of air, her loins clenching around his penetrating fingers. Even his taunting words were a caress. And she smelled him, masculine and clean down at the foot of the table. It was all too much.

She went wild, bucking and trying to come.

"Janey, oh, fuck." His mouth came onto her hard, sucking her pussy strongly into his mouth. Catapulting her straight into orgasm.

She cried out. Her body started convulsing on his fingers. The convulsions shot outward to secret parts inside that Janey didn't even know she had.

As she came, his fingers repeatedly rammed in and out of her passage, pushing her up along the table till her head threatened to drop off the other end. He scrambled up onto the wooden surface with her and wedged his other arm beneath her, supporting her.

"Do it," he urged. "Give it to me, Janey. I want everything."

She knew she was saying something. It was only after her body stopped shuddering that she realized it was his name, over and over. She was almost crying.

"I need to fuck you." His fingers rotated inside her. "I need inside you right fucking now."

Beep. Beep. Beep.

At the insistent noise, Nyall made a pained half-laughing sound. His fingers slid away from her body. She felt them go mournfully, then watched him lift his hand to his mouth and suck her juices off his fingers. His eyes drifted shut for a moment and an expression of ecstasy crossed his face. It was one of the most erotic and moving things she'd ever seen.

That was probably how he reacted with everyone. All the women he had sex with.

The women who thought he was a sex god. They must think so because he obviously loved sex.

Well, now she was joining their ranks, because given the kind of power he had over Janey, he sincerely was a sex god.

Which made her a little sad.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

"The timer's going off," she babbled.

"I know." His palm was cupping her pussy. He turned her head so he could kiss her mouth. "Janey. My God. You taste…"

"The cheesecake will crack. You need to—"

"I know, 275 degrees." She felt the stab of his cock against her side, the rough abrasion of his clothes against her skin. "D'you know what it does to me when you come like that? When you do everything I say so perfectly and then—"

"You have to change the oven temperature," she interrupted.

"Damn it." Though he obviously didn't want to, he gave in. It took him a few seconds, then he was back. "Now."

"I guess you're used to making love on dining room tables," she said breathlessly.

"This is the first time for me." He climbed up and brought her hands to the fly of his jeans. "Undo my fly, baby."

She fumbled with the zipper of his jeans. "The button is tricky."

"It's good practice for you." He pulled her hand to his flesh. Her open palm felt the warm, tensile hardness of his shaft through the fabric of his underwear.

"Are you going to make l—have sex with me here?" she said, correcting herself quickly.

"Not here, not the first time. I'm just going to torture myself for a few minutes." He rolled carefully onto his back and lifted her over him so she was kneeling with legs spread on either side of his hips. It was incredibly racy. Disturbingly exposing. And she could smell things.

He looked her up and down through slitted eyes, one hand going behind his neck to support his head. "Touch me, Janey."

Hesitantly, she began to caress him through his underwear. After a while, she glanced from his face to her hands where she was awkwardly petting his cock. "Am I doing this right?"

"Not exactly," he said. "But I won't complain."

"Oh."

"It's all right, Janey. I like it." He stroked her cheek with his knuckles. "There's so much to teach you."

"I can't wait to learn," she said.

"We need your virginity out of the way."

"Yes," she agreed emphatically. "Maybe we should go into the bedroom now."

"Not yet." He shook his head.

"But I'm ready!"

He grabbed her hand and eased it inside the opening in his underwear. She held him between her palms, her cheeks red with heat. She wondered if she'd ever get used to holding him—holding a man, she corrected herself—nakedly like this.

"You're more than ready to fire, Janey. I'm the problem. Every time I get you hot, I go off like a stick of dynamite. I thought I'd spew it all at least three times while we were making that cheesecake."

"But why?"

"Who knows?" he said. "Feel the tip. It's called the glans."

"It's soft," she said. "There's a slit and it's wet. Is that where—"

Bzzz.

They froze together.

"Damn, damn." It was so quiet, Janey thought he might not even have been aware he'd uttered the curse aloud.

"Do you have to get it?" she whispered. "Maybe they'll leave a message."