TOTALABANDON: CHAPTER ONE
Dr. Angela Carter couldn’t quite make herself sit down. Not that the proprietor’s office at Club Ecstasy wasn’t a welcoming place. Tastefully decorated with antique furniture and modern reproductions, the room could have come from a stylish, expensive magazine. Nothing gave away the ultimate purpose of the place: connecting female clients with men who provided very special sexual services. And certainly no one from her lab would have followed her here to watch her pace the oriental carpet. So why couldn’t she simply take a seat and wait to see what would happen? Lord knew she’d paid enough for the privilege.
Finally the office door opened, and a woman every bit as elegant as her surroundings stepped inside, pulling the door closed behind her. “I’m sorry to have kept you waiting.”
“I was early.” Angela ran her palms
along the sides of her slacks. No need, really. Her hands weren’t clammy.
“You must be Dr. Carter.” The woman extended her hand.
“Angela, please.” When they shook, the other woman’s hand almost disappeared inside Angela’s. Even though the
proprietor stood nearly as tall as Angela, she still managed to appear delicate. Small boned, perhaps, like the girls in high school who’d always made Angela feel, well, big. And awkward. And brainy. But why in hell did any of this remind her of the worst four years of her life?
“I’m Madeline Shaw,” the woman said as she gestured to a chair on the visitor’s side of the desk.
“Shaw?” Angela repeated. “Of the clothing and perfume lines?”
“That would be me.”
They more or less sat at the same time, and Madeline gave her a pleasant smile. “What can I do for you?”
“Well, I . . .” That was a given, wasn’t it? You didn’t exactly show up at Club Ecstasy—San Francisco’s exclusive spa, resort, and sex palace for women—to get your taxes filed. “I understood . . . that is . . . I heard your employees performed certain services.”
“The men, my sex providers. They’re capable of satisfying even the most demanding client.”
“Um.” Angela cleared her throat. “You mean sexually.”
“I did say sex providers,” Madeline answered, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
Which it was, of course. Sex. You couldn’t get much more natural than that.
“Well, there you are then,” Angela said. “That’s why I’m here.”
“I understand that part.” Madeline laced her fingers together and rested her hands on the desk. “But I’ll need a little more information if I’m to pair you with the right man.”
Angela rubbed her palms against her slacks again. “I’m sure any one of them will be fine.”
“Are you quite comfortable, Angela?” Madeline’s expression softened. Sympathy with an overlay of concern. “Can I get you a cup of coffee or tea?”
“I don’t think a stimulant is a good idea.”
“A glass of wine, perhaps?” Madeline said.
“Don’t want to dull the senses, either.”
Madeline rose, walked around the desk, and sat on its edge. Everything about her posture suggested you can trust me. Let me help. And none of it felt insincere. Why in hell couldn’t Angela open up and tell the woman what she needed? Maybe because she hadn’t figured it out herself?
She never failed to plan things through: starting with an opening hypothesis, then on to systematic tests, and ending with the conclusion she expected from her experiments. Somehow, with this exercise, she hadn’t prepared much of anything except for the date and how much she’d make the check out for.
“A lot of our clients are uncomfortable on their first visit,” Madeline said.
“There’s nothing to feel uncomfortable about, is there?”
“Of course not,” Madeline answered.
“I’m an adult; I have a PhD. There’s no reason I can’t simply ask for what I want, is there?”
“Then why don’t you?” Madeline’s expression went from sympathetic to psychotherapeutic, and the whole situation turned damned awkward.
Angela shot out of her chair and started pacing. “Sex, sex, sex. There I said it.”
“We both have.” Madeline sat and watched her walk back and forth.
“The thing is that I don’t get sex. I understand everything else in my life: my job, my friends, my hobbies, even my diet. Sex?” She threw her hands up in the air. “It ought to be simple.”
“Now there you’re wrong,” Madeline said. “Everything’s complicated with humans but most especially sex.”
“Animals do it. Female goes into heat. Male covers female. Offspring appear, and it all starts over again with the next cycle.” She stopped pacing long enough to stare at Madeline. “Why can’t I cycle?”
“You’re having fertility problems?”
“No, of course not. I won’t need to
have children for another two and a half years.”
“Because that’s one service we don’t
provide,” Madeline said. “The men use condoms for everyone’s protection.”
“I’m not explaining this very well.”
“I’ll admit you have me a bit confused.” Madeline nodded toward the visitor’s chair again. After a moment, Angela sighed and resumed her seat.
“Why don’t you try explaining your problem to me simply?” Madeline said.
“I don’t have the sex life I ought to have.”
Madeline bent and placed her hands over Angela’s. “There’s no ought to it. There aren’t any rules or quotas.”
“All right. I don’t have the sex life I want to have.”
“Do you have orgasms?”
Angela’s cheeks grew warm. She hadn’t counted on having to discuss her shortcomings. She’d figured she’d get a really good fucking that would magically burst through whatever barriers stood in the way of her sexual fulfillment. Maybe the man could teach her a few tricks she could pass along to a partner. The whole process might take several sessions and cost her a bundle, but she’d enjoy herself. She hadn’t expected to have to bare her psyche before she even got started. Of course, not responding to Madeline’s question was an answer in itself.
“I see,” Madeline said after a bit.
“I have orgasms. Mostly with my vibrator. Sometimes if a man is good at oral sex.”
“But they aren’t enough.”
Angela shrugged. “They’re nice.”
“Oh dear.” Madeline’s voice dropped an octave. She walked back around the desk, sat, and opened a drawer. From that, she produced a book bound in leather. She pushed it toward Angela. “See if any of my men appeal to you.”
Angela set the book in her lap and leafed through it. Any of Madeline’s men appeal to her? All of them looked absolutely delicious. The first was tall and blond with an easy grin. Sort of a surfer dude. Another guy on a motorcycle resembled a bad ass. Probably a lot of fun in bed, but not someone with whom you could make yourself vulnerable, and this visit could involve a lot of that. She leafed through more of them—all ethnicities by the look of things. A few seemed a bit older than the others. Well dressed and very dignified.
Her gaze caught and lingered on a man toward the end of the pictures. His eyes captured her attention. An odd reaction to a photo, but she couldn’t bring herself to look away. His eyes were a deep brown and curved downward at the corners, giving him a sad look. No, vulnerable. As if he couldn’t hide his emotions and everything would be on the surface.
“You’ve found someone,” Madeline said.
“I think maybe.” She finally managed to pull her attention from the man’s eyes and read some of the text. “Brent Delaney.”
“Brent. Yes, of course. He’d be wonderful for you.”
She delved further into the combination bio and personality description. Thank heaven there were no long walks on the beach. Everything she did to improve her sexual response would remain within these walls. The description did mention he liked classical music and had a gentle but firm touch.
“Is he tall?” No point selecting someone short, given her height, no matter how gentle the touch.
“Six three,” Madeline answered. “The two of you will make a perfect couple.”
“I don’t think we’ll be a couple.” More like a hookup.
“You can be whatever you want to be, Angela,” Madeline said. “We offer your perfect fantasy.”
She glanced up from the picture of Brent Delaney. Madeline met her gaze evenly, as if she really believed you could find
fantasy in a place where you paid for sex. Or anywhere, for that matter. Erogenous zones, techniques for stimulation—those were the important things. With the help of a lover for hire, Angela would systematically study all the logical ways to create good sex. Fantasy had nothing to do with it.
“Was there anything particular you had in mind?” Madeline asked.
“Just Brent, I guess.” She studied his picture again. This time she managed to get past his eyes to his mouth. The word lush sprang to mind immediately. He had full lips, especially the bottom one. She could almost imagine the taste of it. Something like honey or nectar. The image came through so clearly, she ended up licking her own lips, as if he’d just caressed them.
“I have the perfect room for you,” Madeline said. “Let me just make a call.”
Madeline picked up her phone and dialed a few numbers. After a moment, she smiled. “Brent, dear, come to my office. There’s someone I want you to meet.”
The man she’d just met—Brent—escorted Angela down a long corridor over carpets thick enough for her shoes to sink into them. He kept his hand at the small of her back the whole time; his fingers splayed over her spine. It was almost a possessive gesture, as if he cared about her; when ten minutes earlier, he hadn’t known she existed.
Her heart wanted to skitter around in her chest, but she did her best to keep her breathing even. What an incredible series of events. In a little while—as soon as she got her nerve up—she’d be having sex with this stranger. Even more remarkable, her body seemed to have registered the fact better than her mind. Her nipples had already tightened, and her clitoris had begun a slow throb.
She’d experienced some excitement with the mere idea of coming here. What had started out as an inkling of an idea had grown over the weeks, turning from “I’d never in my lifetime actually do this, but if I did . . .” to “I can afford to do it if I cancel that trip to Belize,” to “what kind of man would I want?” The next thing she’d known, she’d picked up the phone and told the woman at the other end of the call that her friend, Susan, had referred her.
Now here she stood, outside what looked like a very expensive hotel room, as Brent Delaney slid the key card into the slot. When the lock clicked, he opened the door and held it, waiting for her to enter first. She did not feel like a prisoner on her way to the gallows as she crossed the threshold, and she certainly had no desire to turn like a coward and run back down the hallway. She might be holding a little tension in her shoulders, but anyone would have to find the situation a little bit odd, right?
As she stepped into a large sitting/living room area, the beauty of the place surprised her out of her jitters. The décor was all very elegant. Modern, including a sleek sofa and matching chairs. A huge flat-screen television hung on one wall with a stereo
console next to it.
Beyond that area was the bedroom. Large and airy with a four poster bed big enough to sleep a squadron. French doors
appeared to open onto a terrace.
“Wow,” she said.
“She speaks,” Brent said from behind her. She’d walked into the place and left him behind.
She turned to face him. She’d hardly dared to glance at him in Madeline’s office for fear of babbling and making a fool of
herself. His picture had been stunning, but the reality . . . oh, Lord. For a big man, he seemed elegant, not boorish, and his eyes gave off a warm glow. She had to remind herself to breathe.
“I beg your pardon?” she asked after several seconds.
“You do talk,” he said. “I was beginning to wonder.”
“I didn’t know talking was required,” she replied. “Did you know Einstein didn’t speak until he was four? Or maybe it was three.”
One corner of his lips curled upward. “Is that so?”
Man, he had a crooked smile, too. “Einstein didn’t have anything to say. Or that’s how the story goes.”
“Must have been scary for his parents.”
She clasped her hands together in front of her slacks and then let them fall back by her sides. “For the longest time it didn’t appear he was going to amount to much of anything.”
“Einstein?” he said.
“One of the greatest minds of the century.”
“Say, would you like something to drink?” He went to the wet bar and hefted a decanter of something alcoholic.
“Me?” She waved a hand. “No, I’m fine.”
“Uh-huh.” He poured a few fingers of whatever that was into a tumbler and approached her. Instead of drinking it, he
handed her the glass. “You were saying.”
As he walked around behind her, she stared into the glass. “I guess there really isn’t any more to the story. We all know how Einstein turned out.”
He scooped up her hair and pushed it to one side of her neck so he could press his lips to the curve of her throat. “He
“Discovered it, rather. The theory’s not that hard to understand, really.” Her pulse sped up, and her nipples hardened to points, although he’d made no move toward her breasts. She took a sip of the whiskey. Good quality. Smooth, not harsh. She took a bit more and let it warm her throat as it went down. “Mostly, it’s conceptual, just a little . . . oh!”
He’d grazed her earlobe with his teeth, hot breath slipping into her ear. Suddenly, her eyelids grew heavy.
“Math,” she said. “Some fairly simple algebra.”
“I was bad at that,” he said.
He was clearly good at other things. Very, very good. Like using his teeth to make pinpricks of pure pleasure along the
sensitive skin beneath her jaw and then downward to her collarbone. She took another sip of the liquor and let the vapors fill her mouth for long seconds before swallowing.
“That’s my girl.” He took the near-empty glass from her and deposited it somewhere behind her. He’d found a table or something without leaving her because the sound of the tumbler settling onto something came through loud and clear.
Then he came back around to face her. She wasn’t used to feeling dwarfed by people, even men, but he seemed to tower
over her. With a solid build, he could have played football. But his facial features fit better with someone more sensitive. A poet or actor, perhaps. Those deep, soft eyes and that full mouth. He even had long eyelashes. She could stare into his face forever, and actually, she’d been doing that for a whole minute.
“Find anything interesting?” he said.
“No, well, yes.”
“Look, Angela, we don’t have to do anything you don’t want. We can talk about famous scientists all night,” he said. “Although, that’d be an odd way to spend your money.”
“Oh, I want to do . . .” She stopped herself before she came out with a silly euphemism. “I want to have sex. Lots of it. In
“That’s what I’m here for.”
“But I’ll be honest with you.” She raised her chin and looked him in the eyes. “I have problems performing.”
He stared at her for a moment. “Women don’t perform. They enjoy.”
“A matter of semantics. A woman my age should have multiple orgasms during a full-coital encounter.”
“Really?” He crossed his arms over his chest. “How many?”
“Five is probably too many to expect, but certainly more than one.”
“That leaves two, three, or four,” he said. “Which is it?”
“Three, I suppose.”
“And you haven’t been having three, during a . . . what was it you called it?”
“Full-coital encounter,” she answered.
“You’ll excuse me for thinking that sounds like something you bill your health insurance to cover.” He caught her arms and rubbed his palms from her elbows to her shoulders and back. “You can relax, Angela. I’m used to nonorgasmic women.”
She pulled away. “I didn’t say I was nonorgasmic. I have orgasms.”
“Then what were we talking about?”
“I don’t have enough of them, and I don’t have them the right way.”
He tipped his head and looked at her as if she were crazy. “There’s a right way to have an orgasm?”
“Come on. You know what I mean.” Her feet wanted to pace, but she made them stay where they were. And she stood
straight, not backing away from him. “I’m near my sexual prime. If I’m going to fulfill my full potential, I should be making more progress.”
All right, she would pace, but just so she could think. Movement always helped, even if she did come off looking a little frantic. She went to the stereo and turned around. “I finished college at nineteen. Graduate school at twenty-three. I have my professional life mapped out. I eat a healthy diet and exercise.”
“And sex isn’t keeping up with your plan.”
“Exactly. I’m so glad you understand.”
“I’m afraid I do,” he said. “You see, sex isn’t going to keep up with your plan or anyone else’s. Sex is what it is.”
She put her hands on her hips. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It’s the one thing you can’t force. You can study to pass a test. You can diet yourself thin. You can save to buy the car of your dreams. But you can’t make sex behave the way you want it to. You have to let it show the way.”
“Is that supposed to be Zen or something?”
“I don’t know Zen. I do know sex.” He went to her and put his big hands on her shoulders. “You can’t steer it. You have to let it steer you.”
“Oh, really? Ask any guy who ever had an embarrassing erection if sex didn’t take control. Women have automatic responses, too. You can just hide them better.”
Like her nipples getting hard? They hadn’t softened yet, and they weren’t likely to with him standing so close. And her cheeks had warmed. He’d have to notice the flush of her skin.
“You might be having some of those responses now,” he said. “Or am I wrong?”
As tempting as it might be to deny her reaction to him, she didn’t deal in dishonesty. Besides, if he was going to help her with her problem, he’d need to read her physiological signs correctly. “I am responding.”
“Want to tell me exactly how?”
“I can’t quite seem to catch my breath.” Odd she hadn’t noticed before, but the air in the room seemed thick and hard to pull into her lungs. And weirder than that, she’d had the same sensation she’d had looking at his picture: that she could taste him even though they’d never kissed. Again, she ended up licking her lips.
In response, his gaze fell to her mouth and stayed there as if he found it fascinating. His eyes took on an almost hungry expression. He wanted her, and she could have him any which way that popped into her head.
This time, he wasn’t a photograph. He stood before her in the glorious flesh, and she’d only have to lean into him to see if he’d really taste like honey. So, she did. She rested her hand against his chest and tipped her face upward. He made her wait. Not more than a few seconds, but enough time to let the anticipation build. This would be the kind of kiss you saw in movies or read about in books. Something she’d never experienced but always dreamed about.
When he finally crossed the last few inches and placed his lips on hers, reality burst like a flash of lightning in her brain. He did taste sweet, although not like anything she’d ever savored before. She sampled him slowly, but when he cupped the back of her head, tilting it so their mouths fit, she took more and more of him. She hadn’t misjudged the softness of the lower lip, so she nibbled on it gently before brushing it with her tongue. That must have issued an invitation, because he responded with his own tongue seeking entrance to her mouth.
God, he was intoxicating. No matter how much she took, she needed more. Wrapping her arms around his shoulders, she
pulled herself as close against him as she could manage. She’d shared kisses with a lover before but not like this one. So all-encompassing, from the sweetness of his lips to the ragged sound of his breathing to the firm muscles beneath her palms. He even smelled good, a combination of warm sunshine and human male.
His arms went around her, tugging her closer against his hard body. She was tall, but he was taller, and he made her feel small and delicate. Cherished. After a few more moments of pure hedonism, he ended the kiss, resting the side of his face against hers. His breath came hard and fast, as if he’d been running. Her own was just as frantic, and her pulse pounded in her ears. As kisses went, that one was in a class by itself. Good Lord in heaven.
She pulled back and gazed into his face in search of answers. What had just happened here? Sure, she’d expected him to be good in bed. That’s what he did professionally, after all. But she hadn’t expected him to dismantle her with no more than a kiss.
“See what I mean?” he said.
“Mean?” He expected her to remember a conversation that had taken place a few minutes before he’d rearranged her
“About sex. You need to let it take over.”
“I’m afraid that’s more easily said than done.”
He kissed the tip of her nose. “You just did a pretty good imitation.”
“Due to your skill.”
“I’d like to take credit.” He gave her a grin. “But it was all chemistry.”
“I’m a physicist.”
“Do tell.” He reached to her blouse and started in on the buttons. Of course, she’d get naked, but she hadn’t considered that he might undress her. She hadn’t considered much of anything at all, when you got right down to it. Maybe she’d thought of this as a visit to the doctor’s office where someone would leave her alone to get into a paper drape.
Instead, she had a drop-dead gorgeous man taking great care with some buttons, as if he might tear one off if he lost
control. And that in itself made for some hot fantasy. Imagine this big guy so consumed with lust for her, he’d rip her clothing to get at her now. Having a man devoted to your pleasure and so insanely aroused that he took you, hard and fast, was a major turn-on. Maybe she should ask Brent to play caveman. Or maybe she’d wait to see if he did it on his own.
He didn’t turn into a raging beast, though, but he kept undressing her methodically. First the blouse, which he removed and turned to drape over a chair, but she took it from him and dropped it onto the floor.
His eyebrow went up. “In a rush?”
“It’s just clothing.”
“You’ll look rumpled when you leave.”
“So much the better,” she said. “It’ll prove I got my money’s worth.”
“You’re nuts, professor.”
He reached behind her to unfasten her bra. When he had it off, he held it between his thumb and forefinger before dropping it onto her blouse. A cute game except for the fact her breasts were now uncovered, and the peaks stood as stiff proof that this was more than a pleasant encounter, like a little necking on a first date. He covered her breasts with his hands, squeezing gently. Already primed by their kiss, her libido roared back to life. The nipples became ultra sensitive pressed against his palms, and the sensation traveled through her, past her belly to her sex.
“Sweet,” he said, as he lifted her breasts and rubbed his thumbs over the tips.
“You must compliment all your clients.”
“Only honestly,” he said. “Don’t you think your breasts are beautiful?”
“Are you really that out of touch with your own body?” He bent and took a nipple into his mouth. He continued toying with the other one as he sucked on the first, his cheeks working. The look on his face was almost angelic; his eyes closed, and his lashes fanned his cheeks. And oh, the sensations he created. Zingers of pleasure speeding along her nerves to every erogenous zone on her body. She wobbled a bit and clutched his head for balance.
Chuckling, he straightened and pulled her against him. Somehow, he’d melted her bones from the inside out, and she might have fallen if he hadn’t held her.
“Bed, I think,” he said.
She merely nodded against his chest. Before she could guess his intent, he’d bent and scooped her up into his arms.
“Careful with your back,” she said, clutching his neck. “I’m heavy.”
“Light as a feather.”
“I’m five ten, you dummy.” And not overly slender, although she wouldn’t mention that aloud. If he wanted to play he-man, he’d have only himself to blame if he threw his back out. Only please not before they’d had crazy monkey sex.
He didn’t seem to notice her weight but walked to the bed and laid her on the comforter. After removing her shoes and knee-highs, he unbuttoned her slacks and slid the zipper down. Her panties came off along with the slacks, and in a moment, she lay completely naked.
Studying her as if she were some exotic creature, he laid his hand on her belly; the fingers spread so one almost reached into the curls over her sex. An odd gesture, almost a claiming, staking out his territory. Only what did he see when he looked at her?
“You’re beautiful,” he said after a long moment.
“Total honesty,” he said. “I can’t wait to fuck you.”
She let out a laugh. She knew that word, of course, and used it occasionally, especially if someone really pissed her off. It had never sounded sexy before, but the way he used it—as if he couldn’t help himself—brought up the whole issue of control again. They’d gone beyond niceties, and now, they’d, well, fuck.
After ditching his own shoes and socks, he rose and jerked his sweater over his head, exposing his naked chest. What a specimen. His jeans rode low on his hips, giving her a view of him from shoulders to pelvis. A sculptor might have fashioned him as the ideal male, from the cords of muscle in his neck to the wide collarbone and below. Firm pectorals, flat belly, and, yes, the outline of a very large erection straining against his fly.
Staring at him, her mouth went dry. Her pussy had a completely different reaction, and it was a good thing, too. If she
was going to take all of that inside her, she’d better be lubricated. And there was no way she’d miss out on a single inch of him.
He gave her a knowing smile as he unfastened his fly, one button at a time. He’d worn nothing under his sweater, and the same went for his pants. When he pushed them down and stepped out of them, he was gloriously naked. Six foot three of prime male Homo sapiens, with a cock that would make a porn star proud. All of that for her, as long and as often as she wanted, for hours and hours.
When he joined her on the bed, she rolled onto her side so she could run her palms over him. Along his shoulders and over his chest. She flicked her thumbs over his flat nipples, registering his slight tremor in response. Farther down, she explored the planes of his abdomen, but of course, her true destination lay lower. She curled her fingers around his shaft, savoring the velvet feel of him. Underneath he was as hard as steel. When she pumped him, he closed his eyes in bliss, and his breath caught. What a toy he was: hers to play with and enjoy the results. She couldn’t stop petting him, from the bulbous head to the sac beneath. Ever so gently, she stroked that with her free hand.
With a groan, he covered her hand with his, stilling it. “You’ll want to leave me some control.”
What a delight that she could affect him so powerfully. “You’re a professional.”
“I’m a man first, and you’re making me incredibly hot.”
She bit her lip. “You really find me sexy?”
“Don’t you ever doubt it.” He rolled her onto her back and slid his body over hers. Though he held himself on his elbows, keeping most of his weight off her, his skin pressed against hers. What luxury. She ran her hands under his arms and to his back, so she could stroke it as he lowered his face to hers.
This time when they kissed, nothing separated them. Nothing at all. She could bask in his warmth while his lips launched an assault on her senses. Pass after pass of his mouth on hers soon had her brain reeling. Just enough pressure to make her want more and more, and all the time, the evidence of his arousal pressed against her pelvis.
By the time he finished with her mouth and slid lower, leaving a trail of kisses over her throat, she was struggling for air. She stroked his hair, his shoulders, anything she could reach. And then, he was sliding lower, taking a neglected nipple between his lips. Arching her back, she pressed herself up to him. Offering and demanding at the same time.
The neural circuits clicked and connected, sending a charge to all the sensitive places on her body: to her pussy, of course, but also to the curves behind her knees. Even to the arches of her feet. With only the gentle sucking at her breast, he could arouse her entire body.
Then he moved lower, his skin gliding over hers as he pressed kisses all over her ribs and downward. Easing her legs apart, he made a place for himself between her thighs. Oh, God, he was really going to do that. Cunnilingus, oral sex. The ultimate a man could do for a woman. Her heart nearly stopped in her chest, and for a moment, she didn’t breathe. If he teased her clitoris with his tongue and she still didn’t come, what in hell would she say to him?
You were fabulous, but I guess it’s not my night?
It’s not you; it’s me?
And still he went lower, until his face lay only inches away from her pussy. Now or never time. Countdown to liftoff. Probably.
She let herself breathe again. Evenly. And she relaxed her shoulders. But when he parted the lips of her sex and made a single pass with his tongue, she gasped.
He lifted his head. “Something wrong?”
“No. I’m great. Just great.”
“I won’t do this if you don’t want me to,” he said.
“Please. I do. Really.”
“Okay.” He gave her a smile. “Relax and enjoy.”
Enjoy, she could manage. Relax, well, they’d see about that.
He went back to work, this time stroking her pussy lips gently. Just a brush of his fingertips. Clever man. Not pushing but enticing. And honestly, how could any woman resist such a tender caress on her most sensitive flesh? With a sigh, she sank back into the mattress, closed her eyes, and let him proceed any way that came into his head. After a bit, his touch landed on the tip of her clitoris, and this time the jolt that went through her contained nothing but pure pleasure.
“Ohhhhh.” Her own voice, low and thick with need—she’d never heard herself like that before.
He took that as his cue and swiped his tongue over her again, from the entrance to her pussy upward, lingering on her clit. Heaven, pure heaven. Her breathing became ragged enough to fill the space around them, and she reached down and burrowed her fingers in his hair to signal her approval. And a silent plea for more.
She needn’t have begged because he continued. He flicked his tongue over her clit, circled it, and pressed it. And oh, how she responded. Tiny pricks of light appeared on the backs of her eyelids as her arousal went to simmer. Her whole body grew warm and then hot. And he kept going, never letting up on the pressure, building such a fire of need inside her, she ought to go up in flames.
This time, she’d come. This time, she wouldn’t be able to hold back. She could do it. Nothing would stop her.
And then, his finger probed her entrance, pressing inside and retreating. A whole new set of sensations. She’d already become wet, and as he slid his finger fully inside her, more moisture collected between her thighs. Unbelievable pleasure, but how much more wonderful to have his amazing cock inside her when she came. Stretching her and filling her. That would have to be the ultimate.
Oh, yeah. Shit, yes. Now.
“I’m ready,” she whispered.
He lifted his head again, and she opened her eyes to look at him.
“You sure?” he said. “I can finish this first.”
“I want you inside me.”
“All right, then.” He swung his feet over the side of the bed and opened a drawer in the small table. Quickly, he tore the square packet open and rolled the condom over his cock.
Still holding his weight off her, he settled himself between her legs. Now she could reach his shaft and guide the head of his cock between her lips. He eased himself in slowly, allowing her to savor the passage of each inch. In truth, she had to adjust to his size, but after a few heart-melting moments, he was fully embedded in her. They stared into each other’s eyes for a long second, and then he pulled nearly out and surged back into her.
Lord, have mercy. Her vision went unfocussed with pleasure, and she closed her eyes. As she had before, she ran her arms under his and back up so her palms fell on his shoulders. His muscles tensed with the effort to support his weight. But down below . . . oh, man . . . down below, the constant thrust and retreat created havoc inside her. Never in her life had she experienced such total possession.
He groaned into her ear. “So tight.”
“Is that good?”
“Amazing,” he said.
“You’re amazing, too.”
“I just hope I last.”
He would, certainly. He was a professional, and he wouldn’t leave her hanging. “I have faith in you.”
He laughed, but the sound came out strained. His movements grew faster as he pushed himself into her. Each thrust jostled her clitoris, and the haze of deep arousal clouded her mind again. Yes, she’d come now. She only had to work a bit harder. Reach for it. Visualize it. Let it happen.
“Angela?” he whispered.
“Yes. Just don’t stop.” Damn it. Damn it all to hell. He was perfect. He’d done everything right. She’d done everything right. Why wouldn’t it happen?
“God!” he shouted. After a few more massive thrusts, he stiffened in her arms. He’d climaxed, of course. She’d lied to him, telling him she was going to come, so she could hardly be upset with him. So, when he sank onto her, she held him and stroked his back.
Maybe he hadn’t noticed her lack of orgasm. They could try again later. Something different. The experiment wouldn’t end up a total failure.
After a moment, he rolled off her onto his side and pulled her against him. “You didn’t come.”
“Maybe I did,” she said. “Sort of.”
“There’s no sort of where orgasms are concerned. You either come or you don’t, and you didn’t.”
“It’s not your fault.” She burrowed her head under his chin, avoiding his gaze. “You were wonderful.”
“Not wonderful enough, obviously.”
“It’s no big deal.”
“Angela.” He slipped a finger under her chin and tipped her head back so he could stare into her eyes. “I’m going to take care of it.”
With his trademark gentle touch, he eased her onto her back and kissed her again. Such a consummate lover, he wove a veil of lust around her, the heat of his body warming her right down to her toes. His hand went exploring, over one breast, past her belly, and landing at the juncture of her thighs. Now when his fingers went between her pussy lips, they made wet sounds. She could have worried about that but his finger landed immediately on her clitoris.
“I should have known better,” he said. “I should have finished you before we fucked.”
She relaxed into the situation. The worst had happened. She’d tried and failed to have sex the way most women did. She
might as well accept that failure and allow herself to enjoy his touch now. He clearly knew what he was doing. In a matter of seconds, he had her back to breathless and throbbing. She wouldn’t interfere.
“Better?” he said.
“You’re not going to stop me this time and tell me what to do, are you?”
“I’m going to hold you to that,” he said.
To his credit, he did. To his even greater credit, he’d found the exact pressure and rhythm to use on her clit to send her into the heavenly plateau just before orgasm. She wouldn’t have to try for anything here. No reaching or visualizing or having to force herself to relax. From here on, she only needed to let him continue to work his magic. He showed no inclination to stop but continued the press, press, press that would soon have her flying to the moon.
She hadn’t made a mistake coming here. Everything would turn out right. She’d have this orgasm and another and another. Already, she’d come so close. She ought to fight it off—let the moment linger—but in the end, the pleasure was too intense to resist, and she had to surrender.
The sensations wound in on themselves, tightening to a ball in the pit of her belly. One more second and another, and she’d burst. The climax built and then exploded inside her, rushing everywhere as her hips jerked upward and she cried out. The spasms traveled the length of her pussy, crashing over each other. Brent stayed with her, still pressing and drawing the orgasm out. When she finally finished, he moved his hand and let her float off on her own personal cloud. She only vaguely registered that he’d pulled her against him again and that the scent of honey clung to both of them.
The Unexpected Collection features ALL SIX PARTS of The Unexpected Trilogy and The Unexpected Companions, by Amity Cross
Amity Cross isn’t my real name. That’s no secret.
I didn’t want my Mum and my workplace to find out I wrote about doodles and tongue-in-cheek sexual innuendo.
I live in a leafy suburb of Melbourne writing about screwed up relationships and kick ass female leads that don’t take s**t lying down.