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It moved me more than it should have. This guy liked his romantic gestures. “We screwed on a conference table. Don’t think we need a followup date.”
He didn’t acknowledge me. “I debated bringing Smoky along, but he’s touchy after today’s litter box mess. He’s afraid of the vacuum. Can you imagine?” He walked in front of my bedroom divider, examining all the shelves and crevices and the many items contained there. Thoughtfully, he trailed his fingers over a large hunk of citrine. “What does this one do?”
“Do?”
“You know, aid in. What is it used for?”
“It energizes and encourages self-confidence, and it also attracts success and wealth. Don’t touch it too much. You already have enough money. Leave some for the rest of us.”
He moved on to my collection of tarot decks. “What if I wanted you to pull cards for a particular question I have? Would you do it? Or should I find another reader?”
“Ask Luna,” I said immediately.
“You said card reading can be as intimate as sex, but yet you want to send me to your best friend.” He glanced over his shoulder, still strolling and examining my possessions. “Interesting.”
“You aren’t Luna’s type.”
“But I’m yours?”
“Absolutely not.”
“Your orgasms seemed to indicate otherwise. What about this?” I assumed he would pick up one of the velvet tarot bags on his eye level, which was personal enough. But he diverted to one of the uppermost shelves almost out of my reach and picked up a purple glass moon-topped cylinder.
A very special one.
“And this?” He turned toward me, running his blunt-tipped finger over the tapered end, offset with small ripples in the glass. “A beautiful piece. What is it used for?”
That cultured voice did unspeakable things to questions he should not be asking.
I gave a nonchalant shrug. “It’s decorative.”
“Is that so? But it’s built so...specifically.” He rubbed his fingers along the glass bubbles while his heated gaze roamed over my face. “These smaller ripples right here almost make me think of—”
“Never mind.” I grabbed the moon cylinder and gave him a light shove.
Right toward my drawing table, bathed in a shaft of sunlight. One that shone right on my scattered drawings.
Goddess, no.
He’d taken no more than a step when I grabbed him from behind and forced the glass back into his hand. The damn thing was burning up from his touch anyway. “It’s a sex toy. Rippled for my pleasure.”
His fingers closed around mine on the shaft’s graduated tip. “If you think I didn’t know that, you must’ve been impressed I managed to put the condom.”
I couldn’t help laughing as I tried to slip back—not that he allowed it.
He spun me around and dragged the glass shaft up my thigh, right between my legs. He pulsed it against me there, holding the warmth against my clit through my dress and my panties. His mouth came down hard on mine as he rubbed tiny circles against my already throbbing flesh.
Then he drew back to lift the glass to his lips, sucking slowly while I fought to maintain eye contact. Knowing he knew what I’d done with it in the past—it’d been a while—only made me hotter. Wetter.
Which he realized as soon as he rolled up my dress and nudged aside my panties to tease me directly.
“Fuck, Ryan,” he groaned against my ear.
At the moment, I had no complaints about that idea.
His thumb rolled over my swollen clit before he drew the glass tip over me again and again, catching the sounds I made with his lips against mine.
Then he tossed the glass toy toward the sofa. “My fingers and tongue and cock will be what gets you off, not that.”
