Flirting With Disaster (16 page)

“We’ll share the pie.” He took a bite and offered her the spoon. “No forks?”

“I got distracted halfway through loading the dishwasher this afternoon. It happens.”

“A lot?” he asked.

“Maybe. I bet you never forget to run the dishwasher. I bet you clean the kitchen every night before bed.”

He shrugged. “Only when I’m home.”

They laughed their way through the piece of pie, and by the end of it, Tom had almost forgotten why he was there, the same problem he had every time he came to her place, only now the stakes had gotten higher.

Now he was lying to his boss, lying to the FBI, lying to her. He parted his lips, drawing in a long breath while he braced himself to speak words that would blow apart the safe world she’d made for herself.

And then she kissed him.

She tasted of the same cherries that he’d eaten, but they were somehow sweeter on her tongue. Richer. Or maybe that was just her body and what it meant to him now, because the very first taste of her reminded him of pure pleasure and how much he wanted more.

He slanted his mouth over hers, taking her tongue deeper as he slid his hands up her thighs. She was wearing leggings under her black sweater, and he could feel every curve of her leg, and he wanted those curves on him. She seemed to have the same idea, because she slipped her thigh over his and shifted until she was straddling him. He was hard in an instant.

He slipped his hands down her back and realized that this sweater held a secret. She was naked underneath. His hands slid along her curves, feeling nothing beneath the thin material. He feathered his thumbs over her ribs. She stretched up, as if trying to draw his hands higher.

Following her movement up, his hands found the undersides of her breasts. So soft and warm and irresistible. He cupped her, memorizing the weight of her as she eased away from his kiss and lowered her eyes to watch.

The neckline of her sweater had dipped tantalizingly low. He pressed a kiss to the bare skin there and then another. Her breathing quickened at that soft touch then caught in her throat when he found her nipples through the sweater and squeezed.

He’d meant to tease her for a while, but why tease her when he could be looking at her bare breasts? Teasing was for people who had time. They didn’t have time. A few nights, at best.

He dragged her sweater up, and Isabelle helped pull it over her head. God, she was beautiful. Not perfect and so beautiful for that, for being proud and easy with her body.

She leaned back against the edge of the table, letting him look at her,
wanting
him to look.

He slid his hands back up her ribs, this time watching as her skin went rough with goose bumps under his touch. Her nipples got harder, drawing tight before he even cupped her breasts. When he did, when he held her in his hands, his breath left him.

“God, you’re gorgeous,” he breathed, as he dragged his thumbs over her nipples. She sighed in response. He loved how rosy brown her nipples were against her pale skin. How they were so sweet and dark they made his mouth water.

He circled one with a light fingertip, loving the way she shuddered. He didn’t want to tear his eyes away from the lovely sight, but he managed to do it so he could see her face as he circled her one more time.

Her head was tipped down, her eyes watching her own breast as he teased it. Her lips parted on a breath. When he pinched her nipple, her teeth pressed into her lower lip. He kissed the spot on her lip she’d just bitten, his hands sliding down to wrap around her waist.

As much as he wanted to scoot her hips forward so he could press her against his erection, he lifted her up instead.

She stood before him, smiling slightly as he stripped down the tight layer of her pants, taking her panties with them. “I like this,” she said as she stepped out of her clothes and kicked them aside.

“What?” he asked, distracted by the pretty sight of the dark triangle of curls covering her pussy.

“I like you in your suit. You look so severe. And me...I’m so naked.” She scooted onto the table then hooked her feet behind his knees to pull him against her. “Your clothes feel wicked against my skin.”

He obliged her by leaning down, pressing her to the table, sliding his hand along her naked thigh and hip as he pressed his cock against her. “You look wicked,” he growled.

“Good.” She was still smiling. Still slightly removed and enjoying the tease.

His anger surged back, surprising him. It was all mixed up with his lust for her. He wanted her to
give
him something. To give something real. He’d shown her something vulnerable, and she still held everything back.

He slid a hand between her legs, found slick heat and pressed two fingers deep inside her.

Her neck arched as a cry tore from her throat. She wasn’t removed anymore. She was stretched out and naked and tipping her hips up for more. He slid his fingers inside her, moving slowly, watching the way she met his rhythm. She was looking at his face now, her lips parted, her gaze steady and unashamed of what she wanted. His thumb touched her clit, and she inhaled so sharply that air hissed past her teeth.

Tom smiled and slipped his fingers free. “Don’t move,” he murmured as he shrugged off his suit jacket and took off his tie. He set his gun and harness on top of a chair and threw his jacket over it then rolled up his sleeves, aware of Isabelle’s eyes on his hands.

He put those hands on her thighs, easing her legs farther open before he went to his knees before her.

The taste of her flooded his tongue as he put his mouth over her pussy and sucked gently at her clit. Her cry filled his ears. When he felt the bud of her clit get harder, he worked his tongue against her. Lightly at first then with more pressure and speed as she groaned her approval. Her fingers clutched at his skull, and when he reached a hand up to pinch one of her nipples, she bucked against him.

“Oh, fuck, you’re good at that,” she gasped, making him smile against her.

He lifted his head. “Should I keep going?” he teased.

“Mmm.” She wrapped her legs around his back and tugged him closer. “Only until I come.”

He laughed, but that urge was back. To make her give him some secret part of herself. He didn’t want her capable of speech, much less joking.

He pinched her nipple again and licked more lazily at her pussy, memorizing the taste and feel and smell of it so he could jerk off to her for years. He waited until she was squirming for more, and then he slid his hand back down her belly and pushed those two fingers into her again.

Her hips jerked against his mouth, but he didn’t let her get away. He fucked her hard with his fingers and flicked her clit with his tongue, and she wasn’t talking anymore. She was gasping and moaning and twisting up for more. This was what he wanted. Her heels digging into his back and her pussy dripping wet and her cries echoing against the walls. He eased his tongue off her until it was barely brushing her clit.

“Please,” she panted. “Please. Tom.”

Yes,
he thought,
beg me. Give me that, at least.

“Please,” she groaned. Her nails dug into his scalp. “I need it.”

He curled his fingers up, pressing against her as he gave her more of his tongue, and she broke, screaming, her hips spasming as she came against his mouth, the muscles of her pussy squeezing his fingers.

When she finally went quiet, Tom stood, wincing at how much his cock ached. He’d bought condoms at the gas station, and he meant to reach for one, but before he could, he was caught by the sight of her. She was spread over the table like a decadent treat, her beautiful, lush body gone rosy with pleasure. He wished he could take a picture, to show her later. Maybe she’d paint it for him.

She was watching him past heavy eyes, happy to let him look as she stretched. But just as he reached for his belt, she sat up. “Let me do that,” she purred.

He backed up when she scooted off the table. “The bedroom?” he asked.

“Oh, I don’t think that’s necessary.” With that familiar secret smile he loved, she backed him up until he was against the kitchen cabinets then unbuckled his belt. “We can do this right here,” she teased. His blood went thick and heavy when she slowly lowered her body until she was kneeling at his feet. She tugged his zipper down and then his underwear, and then her heavenly fist was around him.

She made a noise of approval and glanced up at him. “You’ve got a nice cock,” she said, sliding her hand along it.

Tom couldn’t speak. If he’d thought he was going to get more from her than he gave, he was wrong, because at that moment, he would’ve begged if she’d asked him to. But she didn’t ask.

Still smiling, she pressed a small, nearly chaste kiss to the head of his cock. Then a more lingering one, just her pursed lips, brushing gently against him. He held his breath. Another picture he’d like to take, this one for himself, so he’d never forget the sight of her soft lips parting for him.

And then her tongue licked at him, sliding beneath the crown of his cock and stealing the air from his lungs. He managed not to gasp, but just barely.

Her hold on the base of his shaft tightened, and she stroked up and then back down as she swirled her tongue around him. It was torture. Perfect, delicious torture. His hips shifted forward of their own accord, and Isabelle chuckled.

“Greedy,” she murmured just before she slid her mouth over him.

Oh, shit. Yes, he was greedy. He wanted her mouth like this a hundred times. A thousand. Because she was pure heat and wetness as she closed her lips around him. And then she sucked, and his world turned to pleasure.

She worked her way slowly down his cock, each draw of her mouth making a promise that there would be more soon. A half an inch more, and then another, until she was halfway down his cock, and he was panting. He couldn’t get enough air to feed his thundering pulse, but somehow he didn’t feel weak from the airlessness. He felt solid and strong and feral.

She drew away from him with a slow, maddening slide of her mouth. “God, you’re delicious,” she whispered. “I like you on my tongue.”

He said her name, a crazed sound of need that was begging even if he didn’t form the words. Because she liked him on her tongue. Because he loved everything about that. Because he needed someone just like her, and there was already too much between them.

But she didn’t know any of that. She just took him into her mouth again. Deeper this time, and all at once, and Tom couldn’t stop the tortured groan that tore from his throat.

She used her fist then, sliding up and down in time with her mouth, sending waves of sensation through his whole body. His knees shook a little. His heart shook a lot.

He reached back and curled his hands over the edge of the counter, squeezing hard.

She’d made him vulnerable again, but this time it was good, as if she were kissing all of him at once. He watched her sucking his cock, and he let himself fall completely under her spell. It didn’t matter who was lying to whom. This was so fucking good.

“Isabelle,” he growled. She quickened her strokes in response, and it felt as if every nerve in his body had congregated right there. Right where her mouth sucked and her hand squeezed and his balls tightened.

He managed to mutter something about coming, a warning, but she didn’t stop. Thank God she didn’t stop, because he wanted to come like this, engulfed by her. He wanted her to want it. And she did.

The orgasm slammed through him, the release so great he groaned in relief as he pulsed into her mouth over and over again. She slowed. Her touch gentled. His arms shook from the tight hold he had on the counter, and he was damn relieved that his knees didn’t buckle.

Isabelle sat back on her legs and looked up at him.

“You’re fucking amazing,” he rasped. She sat there, naked and wet-mouthed, and she laughed up at him, and Tom fell a little further into her.

* * *

H
E
COULDN
’
T
STAY
. He knew he couldn’t. But they still collapsed onto the couch together. He’d fastened his pants, and Isabelle had pulled on her sweater to keep the chill off, and now they were cuddled close in the darkness of her living room.

Her ex-lover hovered over them. At least the man was turned away.

Tom smoothed a hand over her hair and tried one last time to get her to talk. “I’m glad you didn’t stay with that guy who made you feel bad about sex.”

“Me, too. We were engaged, but I can’t imagine things would’ve worked out in the long run. In two years with him, he never made me come.”

That shocked the hell out of him. “And you still wanted to marry him?”

“I was young and stupid. And I didn’t know my worth.”

“Clearly. Because you’re worth a lot.”

He felt her cheek tighten against his shoulder when she smiled. “Must’ve been a good blow job.”

“It was, but it’s not even about that. You just seem really...comfortable. With sex. With yourself. It’s attractive.”

“Yeah?” She went quiet for a long moment, and he was afraid he’d insulted her just when she was beginning to open up. But she finally spoke. “It’s really hard for a woman to like sex.”

“Because guys are terrible at it?”

“No,” she laughed. “Even aside from that. We’re taught from day one that we’re supposed to resist it. That we’ll eventually be talked into it. That we don’t want it as much, and we definitely don’t need it. Not like boys do. I believed that. So much so that I wasn’t the least concerned that I’d never had an orgasm. Because lots of women don’t.”

He nodded.

“Can you imagine that? I mean
really
. Think about that. What if you had sex your whole life and never came?”

Tom frowned. “That’s awful.”

“It is awful!” she shouted, laughing again. “And that was almost my life! But then when I figured out how much I liked sex and exactly how I liked it... Jesus, that’s even more confusing. To be a woman and like sex. To want things just as much as the man does and still be treated as if you’ve given in and given something away. It’s no wonder women hit their sexual peak later in life. It takes decades to find the confidence to have good sex.”