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“I also am disease free,” she said loftily, “and I’m on the pill. Don’t let that stop you, however, from using one of those condoms you undoubtedly purchase by the gross. Since this is Texas, land of the barely concealed weapon, if I got pregnant, I would locate one of those weapons and blow your brains out. Fair warning.”
“Good. We’re clear.” He caught her wrist and dragged her up the winding choir loft steps, not that he had to do much dragging.
“I also don’t do one-night stands,” she said when they reached the top. “So consider this the beginning of a short-term sexual commitment.”
“Even better.” He whipped off his T-shirt.
“And you can’t let me get fired from the club.”
He stopped. “Hold on. I want to get you fired.”
“I know,” she said, “but you want uncomplicated sex more.”
“Good point.” He dropped the T-shirt.
Before she knew it, they were on the lumpy futon and he was kissing her again. His hands curled around the bare cheeks of her bottom, and a thumb slid into the top of the silky floss that rode in her crack. “I pretty much enjoy it all when it comes to sex.” His erection pressed hard against her leg. “You be sure to let me know if I do anything that scares you.”
The blood supply that normally fed her brain had surged to other parts of her body, so she had no idea whether he was putting her on or not. “You worry about yourself” was the best she could do.
He played with the floss for a long, heated moment, then withdrew his thumb to drag it over her dragon tattoo. Although she loved the fantasy of having a man slowly undress her, she’d never known one of them who did it really well, and she wasn’t giving Ted a chance to be the first. Sitting up on the narrow space beside him, she leaned back on her heels and pulled her T-shirt over her head.
In the age of silicone-enhanced breasts, hers weren’t particularly memorable, but Ted was too much of a gentleman to criticize. He paid attention, but he didn’t make any clumsy grabs. Instead, he curled his fingers around her rib cage, pulled himself up using only his spectacular abs, and bestowed a slow trail of kisses across her midriff.
Her skin pebbled. It was time to get serious. She was naked except for her thong, but he still wore his khaki shorts along with whatever was or wasn’t underneath. She tugged the fastener to find out.
“Not yet,” he whispered, pulling her down next to him. “Let’s get you warmed up first.”
Warmed up? She was ready to ignite!
He rolled to his side and offered her body his complete attention. His gaze lingered on the hollow at the base of her throat. The curve of her breast. The pucker of her nipple. The patch of ivory lace below her belly. But he didn’t touch any of it. Any of her.
She arched her back, inviting him to get to it before she went up in flames. He dipped his head toward her breast. She closed her eyes in anticipation only to feel his teeth nip at her shoulder. Had the man never studied basic female anatomy?
It went on like that for a while. He investigated the sensitive spot at the inside of her elbow, the pulse point at her wrist, and the bottom curve of her breast. But only the bottom curve. By the time he touched the soft skin of her inner thigh, she was quivering with desire and fed up with his torture. But when she rolled over to take control, he shifted his weight, deepened his kisses, and somehow she was once again at his mercy. How could a man who’d gone four months without sex be so restrained? It was as if he weren’t human. As if he’d used his genius inventor skills to create some kind of sexual avatar.
With the world’s largest erection.
The exquisite torture went on, his caresses never quite reaching where she so desperately needed them to be. She tried not to moan, but the sounds slipped out. This was his revenge. He was going to foreplay her to death.
She didn’t realize she’d reached for herself until he caught her hand. “I’m afraid I can’t allow that.”
“Allow it?” With lust-fueled strength, she twisted out from under him, threw one leg across his hips, and yanked at the snap on his shorts. “Put up or shut up.”
He trapped her wrists. “These stay on until I take them off.”
“Why? Are you afraid I’ll laugh?”
His thick hair was rumpled from where she must have dug her fingers into it, his bottom lip a little swollen from where she might possibly have bitten it, his expression vaguely regretful. “I didn’t want to have to do this yet, but you’re leaving me no choice.” He flipped her beneath him, pinioning her with his body, fastened his mouth on her nipple, and delivered the perfect suction, just this side of pain. At the same time, he slipped a finger under the thin strip of lace between her legs and then inside her. She groaned, pulled her heels high on the bed, and shattered.
As she lay helpless in the aftermath, his lips brushed her earlobe. “I thought you’d have a little more self-control. But I guess you did your best.” She was dimly aware of a tug at her lace chastity belt, then the slide of his body down over hers. He caught her legs and parted them wide. His beard stubble brushed the inside of her thighs. And then his mouth covered her.
A second cataclysmic explosion claimed her, but even then he didn’t enter her. Instead, he tortured, comforted, tortured again. By the time her third orgasm hit, she’d become his sexual rag doll.
He was finally naked, and when he entered her, he did it slowly, giving her time to accept him, finding the perfect angle, nothing clumsy, no groping, no accidental finger scratch or elbow jab. He delivered a steady angled stroke followed by a hard thrust, flawlessly orchestrated, designed to deliver maximum pleasure. She’d never experienced anything like it. It was as if her pleasure was all that counted. Even as he came, he supported his weight so she didn’t have to bear all of it.
She slept. They woke, made love again, and then once more. Sometime during the night, he drew the sheet over her, brushed her lips with a kiss, and left.
She didn’t fall back to sleep right away. Instead, she thought about what Lucy had said. Every woman should have Ted Beaudine make love to her.
