Made For Sex (36 page)

His eyes softened and he looked into hers. “It seems there's quite a bit I can teach you.”

The double entendre wasn't lost on Fran and she felt herself flush yet again.

“I'm sorry,” O'Malley said, “I didn't mean to embarrass you.”

“Actually I find this entire situation embarrassing.”

“And as intriguing as I find it, I hope.” When she hesitated, he continued, “Don't answer that. Let's think about dinner.”

Yes. Dinner. A splendid idea.

D
inner went surprisingly well. Over a delicious salad of mixed greens, a chicken breast in a sauce of dill and capers, rice and broccoli with slivered almonds, they chatted like new friends. They shared an interest in old western movies, Indian food and TV cop shows and disagreed on the facts surrounding the Cuban Missile Crisis. They had different tastes in music—he liking country and she soft jazz—but they agreed on Frank Sinatra and big bands. He explained the rudiments of buying and selling foreign currency, and complimented her when he called her a good listener. Fran also learned a bit about O'Malley's two daughters, who were the same ages as her niece and nephew, and they discussed how children now weren't as social as children had been when they were young.

“It's all those computer games and the inevitable head phones,” Fran said over a raspberry tart. “Kids don't have to interact with the world anymore.”

“And school? My ex-wife is forever going to the principal, complaining about some teacher who picked on Denise or Michelle. There's no discipline anymore. I'm big on discipline. Not beating kids up, but insisting on some kind of standards.”

“I know just what you mean. If I came home and told my mother that I had been yelled at, her reaction was, ‘What did you do, you bum?'”

They shared more laughter. “You know, here we sit, sounding like old married folks arguing about the upbringing of their children.” O'Malley reached out and took Fran's hand. “That's not how I want this evening to progress at all.”

Fran was suddenly speechless. “How do you want the evening to progress?”

“I want to seduce you. I want to introduce you to new and different ways to make love.”

Fran pulled her hand back. She had almost forgotten the reason for the dinner. “O'Malley, I don't know exactly what Carla told you…”

“Carla has nothing to do with this. You're a beautiful sexy woman who's only going to be in town a few weeks and I don't want to waste time.”

“Come on, don't tell me that Carla didn't tell you that wine wasn't the only thing I needed education about.”

O'Malley's grin was infectious. “Busted. She knows how much I enjoy introducing women to the varied pleasures of the bedroom and she mentioned that you might be a willing student.”

Fran cleared her throat. “I don't think so. But thanks for the offer.”

O'Malley retook her hand and held it tightly against the snowy white tablecloth. She should probably have snatched it back, but since she didn't want to cause a scene, she allowed it to remain. “Do you know what I'd like to do? I'd like to take you back to my apartment and light several candles. I know you'd look wonderful in candlelight. Then I'd take off that blouse, slowly opening one button at a time, brushing my fingers over your skin. I know how soft it will be.” Without releasing her hand, he reached across the table with the other and ran the tip of his index finger from the hollow of her throat down to the valley between her breasts.

He continued, “Then I'll kiss you. You will be a bit afraid, but eventually you will open your mouth and let my tongue explore. We will taste each other, getting to know one of the more intimate parts of our bodies.” He paused, then said, “I think I will hold one of your hands behind your back so you will feel powerless to resist me. I will like that, and I'm pretty sure you will, too. I'm very good at ascertaining the naughty things that will give unexpected pleasure.”

Fran took a shuddering breath. His words and the feel of his hand lightly restraining hers was filling her with an incredible heat. She felt his thumb slide under her hand and scratch her palm and it made her tingle between her legs. She stared at his hot, sexy mouth, the words ‘naughty things' echoing through her head.

Without releasing her hand, O'Malley moved to the chair beside her. “You excite me.” He released her hand and, in a lightning-fast move, slipped one hand between her thighs and found the crotch of her panties. Then the hand was gone.

“Your heat is enormous.” When she started to protest, he placed one finger against her lips. “That's a pro forma protest and you want to make it because you think you should. You're a nice woman and nice women don't do the things I'm suggesting, the ones you're thinking about, picturing in your mind even now.” Her lips moved against his finger but he didn't allow her to speak. “But they do. And you want them. You're curious and excited. You're a grown woman, free to do anything you choose. And you
do
choose. You just don't know how to agree and still be the woman you'd like to think you are.”

He released her hand and moved back to his seat. “It's the age old war between what you think you should be and what you want. Now's your opportunity. You're under no obligation to me, but maybe you are to yourself. You deserve this, but it's your choice.”

O'Malley signaled for the check, then stood. “I'm going to excuse myself for a moment. Think about what I said. And think about the unusual things you've read about, maybe even written about, that you're dying to try, but never thought you'd have the nerve.”

Fran watched his back as he walked toward the men's room. He was graceful and moved like a dancer. He was right about the war inside of her and he was also right about what she deserved. She was free, over twenty-one and capable of making her own decisions. And, as she sorted out all the pros and cons, it was really a no-brainer. She allowed a small smile to lift the corner of her mouth and sipped her herb tea.

And what unusual things did she want to try? Almost everything, she admitted.

O'Malley returned as the waiter put the check on the table. He glanced at it, then dropped his credit card on top. As the waiter hustled away, he lay his hand on the table, palm up, inviting Fran to take it. She looked at the proffered hand, then looked into his eyes. She smiled and placed her tiny hand into his large one. “Oh yes,” he sighed, his index finger dancing over her palm. “Now, can you tell me what leaped into your mind when I said I wanted to play naughty games?”

Fran took a deep breath and trembled. “I can't,” she admitted. “I can read and enjoy stories about just about everything, but the thought of actually doing any of them is terrifying.”

“Some of the things you've read about would be fun to do, some only fun to fantasize about. I love to ‘force myself' on willing women and I often pretend that I'm actually raping them. But committing real rape? Never.”

Being forced. She tried to still the shaking in her knees.

“You know, you're very easy to read, my love. Very easy.” He squeezed her hand tightly. Silently they sat that way until the waiter returned with the charge slip. O'Malley signed it and they rose. He placed his palm against Fran's back and guided her to the check room where they got their wraps. He helped her on with her coat and, as he settled the garment on her shoulders, he placed a light kiss on the nape of her neck. Without giving her time to react to the rush of warmth that invaded her body, O'Malley placed his hand in the small of her back and guided her through the outside door. The evening was frosty, but even through her heavy coat, Fran could still feel the heat of his hand.

On the sidewalk, O'Malley caught her hand and drew it beneath his arm and held it against his forearm. “My apartment is only a few blocks. Are you cold?”

Fran exhaled and watched her steamy breath. “I'm not cold at all,” she said truthfully.

“Then it's faster to walk,” he said, striding toward the corner.

She pulled on her imprisoned arm. “Remember, I have very short legs,” she said.

Chuckling, he immediately shortened his pace. “I'm really sorry. I guess I'm suffering from a certain urgency.” He sighed, his breath making a cloud of vapor around his face. “I want you very much.”

“We have time,” Fran said, amazed at her boldness. But it felt good. She wasn't going to be a wimpy follower. She had made a decision and she was going to be a participant. “We have all night.”

He looked at her and smiled. “Wonderful,” he said, his breath making frosty clouds in front of his face. They walked the few blocks in silence.

O'Malley's building was a high-rise with terraces on the upper levels. They crossed the patrolled lobby and took the elevator to the seventeenth floor. Fran expected him to make a move in the small confined space, but he merely kept her arm beneath his. They crossed a small hallway and he used his key to open the apartment door and they stepped inside.

The entranceway was small, and they quickly made their way past the living room. “I've turned one of the bedrooms into a sort of sitting room. It's my favorite place to relax so I leave the living room pretty much unused.” He guided her toward a small, homey room with overstuffed colonial-style furniture in shades of dark blue and cranberry with lots of light wood. “I wouldn't have expected this from you,” Fran said.

“I know. Actually most of the furniture was from the house my wife and I vacated after the divorce, but I liked it and kept it. It's comfortable in both look and feel and that's what I always considered most important in a room for just me.”

O'Malley put Fran's coat and his on a side chair, then, true to his promise, lit five slender white candles. Then he flipped off the light and turned on a CD player. Soft music filled the room and he opened his arms and willingly Fran stepped into them. He reached around and clasped his hands at the small of her back and just held her. She tipped her head back and his lips found hers. His mouth was soft and warm. It didn't possess, as she had expected, but shared, giving as much as it took.

The kiss was totally involving, leaving her no room for thoughts of any kind. She parted her lips and his tongue delved into her mouth, tasting and reaching, joining with hers in a primal rhythm. She slid her arms up his chest and around his neck, one hand coming to rest on his hair and one against his cheek. His skin was warm and she could feel his muscles moving as his mouth moved against hers.

His lips moved to her jaw and he placed long slow kisses down her throat. As he lightly bit down a shudder shook her entire body. “Oh God,” he murmured against her neck, “you're so responsive.”

So responsive? After sex her husband had always asked her whether she had enjoyed herself. “I can never tell whether you're enjoying yourself,” he would say. She tipped her head back to give O'Malley better access to her neck and he took full advantage, kissing and nipping at her tender flesh. She felt his hand move up her back and his fingers comb through her hair, massaging her scalp. His lips traced a damp path down her breastbone and into the valley between her breasts.

Suddenly Fran didn't want to be a passive participant, she wanted to feel him. She backed up slightly and slid her hands beneath his jacket, sliding her palms over the hard planes of his chest through his shirt. She was Nichole, free, independent, able to do everything that she had written about in her stories. She slid her hands up to his shoulders and tugged at his lapels. “Take this off,” she said, not recognizing her hoarse voice.

O'Malley slipped his jacket off and unbuttoned Fran's blouse. Suddenly they were all hands and clothing, pulling, dragging, stripping until both stood naked in the middle of the living room. He was even more masculine without clothes, she realized, and it was very obvious that he was very excited. His cock stood out from his groin, hard and needy. Nicki had done that, Fran thought. Nicki, the attractive, the anxious, the wanton. In the split second in which each gazed at the other, she wondered about her own body.

“Oh Lord, you're beautiful,” he growled.

“You're looking at me the way the wolf must have looked at Little Red Riding Hood,” she said. Where had this lightness come from?

“The wolf was thinking about devouring Red Riding Hood.” He grabbed her wrist and pulled her against his heated body. “And I'm going to devour you.” His mouth found hers and it was as though he was devouring her entire being. One moment she was almost kidding with him, the next she was enveloped in his carnal embrace. She felt his erection pressing against her belly and all thought was extinguished.

“Right here, right now,” he moaned against her mouth, and he picked her up and lay her down on the sofa. He knelt beside her and took one erect nipple in his mouth. The feeling was electric, waves of heat and tiny sparks traveled in a direct path from her breast to her already-sopping pussy. Her back arched and she scraped her nails up his back and heard him groan.

Then his hand found her. Unable to get a breath, her body moved of its own accord, reaching for his fingers until he inserted one into her channel. She heard moans, screams and realized that they came from her. “Oh God, don't stop” she cried, reaching, needing, driving upward.

His mouth moved to her other nipple and his fingers moved between her legs. He rubbed her clit, then pushed two fingers into her again, stretching and forcing her to feel. “Yes,” she yelled, “oh, yes.”

Unable and unwilling to control her actions, she raised her hips and, as O'Malley drove two fingers into her cunt, she came. Spasms overtook her and filled her. She cried as she felt his fingers leave her. She dimly heard him take a condom from his pocket and then he was on top of her, his hard cock probing between her thighs. She opened to him and wound her legs around his waist.