Not in Her Wildest Dreams(35)

He stopped dancing briefly, then guided her into swaying again and  danced her onto the ribs of the spiral area rug. "I don't see why it  matters what people think."

"How about you trust me that it does." Especially when she was the one  who would be assumed to have fallen short in the relationship.

Norah clicked over and invited them to come away with her.

They shuffled around the room, hands beneath shirts, stroking as lightly as the play of notes drifting around them.

"I don't like rules and restrictions," he said, lifting the hem of her  T-shirt. "It bugs me that you have so many." He gently tugged her shirt  past the blindfold then off her arms. "Now, that's pretty. But let's  lose this, too." She felt her bra release.

"I don't have many rules. Just one. Privacy. Big deal." She tried to  bunch his shirt up his chest, but he removed her bra and twined her arms  around his neck, settling her against him while his hands went to her  ribcage, grazing the outer swells of her breasts as he urged her into  the shuffle again.

"You have a ton of Don'ts. You won't let me go down, the audit is top  secret, dinner isn't on the menu, sleepovers at either house are  forbidden."

"Can we talk about this another time? You're killing the mood." His  flannel shirt was incredibly soft against her bare torso, but she felt  uncomfortable, knowing she was half naked while he was fully clothed.  "And get rid of this, will you?"

"Not yet." He changed his hold so one hand held her hips close enough to  feel the ridge of his erection beneath his jeans. The other gently  traced her breast, a fingertip circling her nipple, knuckles stroking  beneath and around, creating a prickly, tickling sensation that made her  skin feel tight.

Crossing her arms behind his neck, she flattened her breasts against his  chest, partly to soothe the ache, partly because she felt so  self-conscious. She kissed him.

He let her control it, pleasing her because she was able to get her  hands under his shirt and lift it again. But while she did, he used the  angle of their bodies to work his hands between them, releasing the snap  and zipper of her jeans.

"What are you doing?" He wasn't helping her remove his shirt, too busy  rolling her jeans down her hips. She kept her hands on his chest,  fingers combed into the short furls of chest hair, waiting while he  pushed jeans-and panties!-down.

"Let me take off your shirt first," she protested.

He kept wriggling her jeans down until his big do-it-my-way willpower  forced her to let go. When her jeans were bunched at her ankles, he  eased one foot out at a time, stripping her socks as he did.

"Okay, now you," she said, not exactly cold, standing there buck naked,  but shivery. He only tugged her close again, the shift of his body and  the muffled thump telling her he'd used his foot to nudge her knotted  clothing away from their feet.         

     



 

Norah began comparing herself to a light in an empty room, waiting to be turned on. Paige was already there. Quite turned on.

Sterling began a deeper sway, so their hips moved in a more circular  motion. Rough denim grazed her nude belly, and taut, jeaned thighs  brushed her bare ones. The pressure of his erection nudged her and made  her seek pressure against the ache.

She tried telling him she felt awkward with this level of exposure, that  it had occurred to her she didn't know if the drapes were really  closed, but he kissed her, deeply, and grew bolder with his straying  hands until she felt like she was going to melt into a puddle of sexual  need right here on his grandmother's parlor floor.

When he let her up for air, they were both panting. He set her away a  bit, his heavy breath tickling her collarbone, his hand hot on her hip.  "Jesus, I love looking at you." He scooped her up against his chest  again and carried her.

Finally. She went boneless in his arms, already anticipating the  pleasure of penetration. Oh, she liked sex, but until Sterling, she'd  never had it so good she actually whispered words like, "Hurry."

She did now, heard his breath catch before he said, "Not this time."

He set her on the bed, his duvet poofing around her.

She reached out, expecting him to join her.

He guided her hands over her head. "Feel those?" Cool metal. The handles  on the headboard drawers. "I've locked them. Hold as tight as you  like."

"I want to hold you."

He kept his hands over hers until she curled her fingers in a solid  grip, then he kissed her briefly, only long enough to drag a hand down  her body, over one breast, across her hip, stroking down her inner  thigh, catching behind her knee as he bent her leg open. Cool air  swirled against hot dampness.

She tried to close her legs, but he stopped her. "No, don't hide. And  don't let go of those drawers, darlin'. There, just let me look a  minute." His breath sounded ragged.

She bit her lip, her thighs twitching with the need to close, yet she  was so turned on, her palms hurt where she gripped the drawer pulls.  "Are the lights on?"

"And the cameras rollin- I'm kidding. No, just stay like that. God,  Paige." She heard the pop and zzz of his jeans opening, the shoosh and  muted flump of clothing being divested. And then silence again.

She swallowed.

Waited.

"What are you doing?" she asked, aching with need, rolling her hips in invitation.

"Looking." The bed gave between her legs as he settled his knees there,  his hands on either side of her raised arms, not touching her, but  hovering over. He kissed her once, then her chin, and the upper swell of  her breasts. "Trust me, Paige?"

Behind the blindfold, she clenched her eyes shut, knowing what he  wanted. "You just nag and nag until you wear a person down, don't you?  If I didn't loathe your mother so much, I'd pity her."

"Careful. She's right here."

"You're horrible. Just for that, I'm going to refuse."

"Too late. Remember to hang on."

"I'm telling you I've never enjoyed this. I don't want you to be disappointed."

"But I'm really good at it." He licked beneath her breast, caused a shiver to race down that side of her body.

"How'd you get good? By going down on a lot of women?"

"That doesn't excite you?" He snickered against her ribcage, switched to nibbling.

"No, actually, it doesn't."

"Then you'll prefer the truth." He eased his arms beneath her knees as  he trailed kisses down her belly. "I've had several frank talks with my  lesbian friend, Patty."

"Oh, please."

"It's true. You'll be sending her a thank you note after." He nuzzled  the curls on her mound, making her tummy muscles jump. Her hands  tightened on the drawer pulls.

"So arrogant."

"The secret is patience." He found the crease at her hip. "This is a  lovely soft spot," he murmured, pressing it with tender kisses. She felt  the brief tickle of his hair against the sensitive skin of her inner  thigh, then he ran his hands up and down her inner thighs, parting her  legs further.

Nervous flutters quivered in her belly, made her leg muscles jerk as she  considered closing him out, dying from the colossal intimacy he was  demanding, but not quite able to bring herself to reject him.

He shifted, explored her gently with his fingertips, drawing slow  circles that didn't quite satisfy and drew a little moan from deep in  her throat.

"Oh, Paige, you're a natural. Every time I do something you like, just  make another sound like that and you'll be calling me your own personal  sex god in no time."         

     



 

"That was embarrassment."

"That'll change. Now we're just going to experiment a little and when we get it right, we'll get to work. Ready?"

"No."

"Good."

And then she felt the heat of his mouth, the flick of his tongue, the  weight of expectation, both from him and from her own hidden desire to  enjoy this and find out what all the fuss was about. But the fact was,  she couldn't let go like this. It was too personal. Too intimate. Too  mortifying.

Too selfish.

She had to give him credit though. He had quite a repertoire and a lot  of it felt pretty darned good. That thing he'd just done- he did it  again and she let out another little hum of enjoyment, realized she'd  done it the first time and was doing it again because it felt very, very  nice. Not that it was going to do it for her in the long run, but it  was a pleasant-

A shaft of acute pleasure speared through her.

"Oh, God." That had been interesting enough to make her forget how  awkward she felt. Good thing he'd never be able to duplicate it. "Oh,  God."

~ * ~

She vaguely sensed him moving to rise above her, settling beside her  sweaty, panting body. He might have kissed between her breasts or  something. He might even have been trembling, but she was shaking so  hard it was difficult to say.

"I'm very sorry to tell you," she said breathlessly, "that I've never had a graphic conversation with a gay man."