Sexy and Funny, Hilarious Erotic Romance Bundle (73 page)

I walked away, feeling weird about being called ma'am instead of miss. Was I a ma'am now? How old did he think I was?

I found the spot we'd planned to meet, and stood in front of the Tyrannosaurus Rex, pondering how it was always the gums that made the beasts seem fake. The pink gums around the ferocious teeth lacked moisture. Would a high gloss topcoat help?

Where was Devin, anyway? One more minute and I was going to freak out about him standing me up.

A mother who looked about my age walked by with a baby in a stroller.

I wondered if I
would
change my mind about kids when I got older.

I'd already experienced a pregnancy once. One bonus cruel thing about miscarriages is the body doesn't snap back immediately. The pregnancy hormones can remain in your system for weeks or months, giving you morning sickness and all the other symptoms. For weeks after the miscarriage, I'd find myself humming and holding my stomach, as though preparing for something wonderful.

But nothing wonderful came.

I dropped out of school and kept living with Steph, who generously paid all the bills until I got a job. I did my therapy (I often say that phrase the way someone would talk of doing a sentence in jail—
Girl, I did my time!
) and I took some courses. I got my life together, then I decided to take on other people's lives, and got into coaching.

Most people will change careers about a gajillion times in their lives, but I may choose to be an outlier and stick with coaching, forever.

Either that or find a career taking hilarious photos and posting them online. (Ah, if only it paid.) Devin was still nowhere in sight, so I got out my phone and took some pictures of my hand and the banana near the dinosaur's desiccated-looking lips and gums.

Some kids gathered to watch, so, naturally, I pretended I was trying to coax the dinosaur to eat.

“Just a nibble,” I said to the big monster. “Yum yum! Baby, you have to try new things, or you'll go extinct.”

Someone said, “You're a natural.”

I turned around to see Devin, looking stylish and handsome as always, in a blue button-down shirt and tight black jeans.

“Oh, he's not mine,” I said. “I'm just babysitting while his mother is out eating other dinosaurs.”

The kids all thought this was the most hilarious thing yet. Go figure! Kids laugh at very different things than adults.

Devin walked right up to me and kissed me.

On the cheek.

“Nice to see you,” he said.

The kids realized I wasn't a museum employee and wandered off.

I handed him the banana. “Here, I got you one of those fat-free bananas you've been so curious to try.”

“Why, thank you.”

“You can't eat it here, though. No food in the display area of the museum.”

He nodded and stuck the end of it loosely in his front pocket, like a gun in a holster.

“You look like a cowboy,” I said.

“And you look really nice today.”

I struck a girly pose. I wore ballet flats and a blue-green dress with a skinny red belt. The dress color matched my eyes and the red belt matched my lipstick. (Oh, no, I hadn't obsessed about my look
at all
.) “This lipstick is smudge-proof,” I said, apropos of nothing… but kissing—kissing Devin on his luscious, boyish, soft, kissable lips.

He grinned and tossed back his lanky black hair.

We started walking, and he grabbed my hand to hold it in his.

As our fingers entwined, blood rushed through me and sent sparks though my erogenous zones. I was sure everyone in the museum could see nothing but my blushing cheeks, yet they all seemed to be going about their business, unaware that Devin was HOLDING MY HAND! IN PUBLIC!

Never mind that we'd had sex four days earlier… we'd never held hands before, and it was every bit as thrilling.

He brought my hand up to his mouth and kissed my thumb briefly.

“What's it like being so white?” he asked.

“I burn easily.”

“I bet nobody ever asks where you're from.”

We approached a display of fossils.

“Probably not as often as they ask you,” I said. “You could be a model or an actor, and your skin is so beautiful. No wonder they're curious.”

He stared at the rocks behind the glass. “I guess I don't mind looking different from everyone else. I mean, sometimes I forget, and when I see a photo of myself with Indian friends, I'm surprised I'm the pale one, or that I'm the brown one with my white friends. When I'm with them, I feel like we're all the same.”

“My best friend is also a blonde. People think she's my sister, but she's way…” I stopped myself, clamping my lips tight. I knew not to put myself down in front of a guy. It was one of the first things I coached my clients on, and I'd almost confessed to my insecurities.

Even without me finishing the thought, Devin seemed to know what I'd meant.

He turned to me and said, “Comparison is the thief of joy.”

His words sent a chill through my body, the skin on my bare forearms tightening into goosebumps.

“That is so true,” I said.

He tugged my hand, leading me to the next display. “Have you been to London? Specifically, have you been to the best thing there, the Natural History Museum?”

“No and no. Is that a famous museum?”

He pretended to cough and be horrified I didn't know, and then he went on to tell me all about it as we walked through the dinosaur displays. We walked along, me with my system happily flooded from the chemical reaction of him holding my hand, and he told me about his trip to London. He was only there for three days, for a hotel management conference, and he'd gone to the Natural History Museum every one of the three days. They'd had to kick him out at closing time each day.

As he talked about the artifacts and displays, his face took on a far-away, blissed-out look. (Apparently, I look the same way when I set foot in a Sephora makeup store.) I asked, “Would you be a historian or archaeologist in another life?”

He grinned. “Is that a crack about reincarnation?”

I stammered that it was not.

He pulled me in for a hug. “Relax! I'm just teasing you.”

I nuzzled my cheek against his chin, taking in the warm, intoxicating scent of his neck. The man smelled so good. I pulled away, embarrassed at how turned-on I felt, and sure everyone could tell by the way I stood or walked exactly what feelings I was having.

“My dream job might surprise you,” he said. “I'd love to work with cookbooks. The fancy ones with the nice photos and funny anecdotes along with the recipes.”

“No way!” We started walking again—slowly, because we were behind a group of kids. “What's that all about? Do you love cooking? Or photography? Or stories?”

“All of the above.” He looked shy and embarrassed. “I've been working on one with the chef at the hotel. We're not a fancy hotel, and the chef's not a big name or anything, but it's fun. We were drinking beer in the kitchen one night after the restaurant closed, and we started making up crazy dishes. I took a few photos, and they turned out not-too-bad.”

“I love that. I love when people find something they enjoy and pursue it.”

He pulled me into a dark alcove.

“Lately, I've been distracted,” he said, his hands on my waist, pulling me closer.

I lowered my eyelids and tilted up my chin, moving in closer. “Tell me about it.”

“I'd rather show you,” he said, and he leaned down to kiss me.

It was the kind of kiss you feel all over your body, every part of you connected to those sensitive nerve endings in your lips.

We were so close, and this part of the museum was quiet. I could hear him breathing, and I could hear the fake-leather strap of my purse on my shoulder, squeaking. My lips parted and his tongue nudged against mine. My already-flooded system got another wave of happiness, and my hands circled around to press against his shoulders as we kissed. My body pulled against his, like a magnet to a strong, sexy, smart, hunky refrigerator door.

Someone cleared his throat behind us. We pulled apart quickly, Devin looking as sheepish as I felt.

The security guard I'd talked to before was there. “You're squishing his banana,” the man said.

My jaw dropped open.

“Young lady, I knew you were trouble,” the security guard said with a grin.

Devin pulled the slightly-bruised banana I'd given him from his pocket.

“Still edible,” he said. “We were just on our way out to get some lunch.”

The guard nodded. “This is a
family
museum.”

“Of course,” Devin said cheerily.

He grabbed my hand and we raced for the front door, laughing the whole way.

Outside, I shivered as soon as we got as far as the sidewalk. It was chilly for a summer day, with clouds and the idea of rain on the sky's mind.

“I guess we should get lunch,” Devin said.

I folded my arms and snuggled in close to him. “I'll go anywhere with you.”

“My apartment is only a few blocks away. I could make you a sandwich there.”

See his place? Yes please! “Sure,” I said, my voice pitching up and betraying my excitement. “Just lunch, though.” I laughed nervously. “No funny business.”

If this were a movie, we'd do a smash-cut to me and Devin barely making it inside his apartment as we tore each other's clothes off.

The screen would show me saying “No funny business,” and then I'd be on my back on Devin's dining room table.

And he'd have his head between my thighs.

Let me back this story up just a bit. On the walk to his place, I'd complimented him on getting over his fear of kissing. He'd then said some things about exploring all the types of kissing. At first I thought he meant closed-mouth and also open-mouthed, the latter being the type French people call
soul kissing
. (They can't exactly call it French kissing, now, can they?) As we got to his place and stepped into the elevator, he looked right at my panties-area, as though he could see through my blue-green dress, and he said, “The
other
kind of kissing.”

“Really.” I swallowed hard. “Sure, let's try that.”

Which brings us back to the dining room table, and me being served up like dessert. I hadn't suggested such a non-traditional, non-bed type location, but we'd come in the door kissing, he'd ground me up against the table, and things just happened then and there. He even sat in a chair so he could be comfortable and take his time.

Do I recommend this position? Oh, yes. Yes, I do. Dim the lights and pull the blinds so you don't feel like you're being medically examined (unless that does it for you), and close your eyes and enjoy the
other
kind of kissing.

Devin asked for instructions, but I refused to give any, saying he'd have to watch for subtle signs, such as muscle tension and moans. (Also, because I wasn't sure how to put the instructions into words. You may think I'm a worldly gal, but I can barely say the word
clitoris
out loud.) As he pulled off my panties, he said, “I might do everything wrong.”

“I'm willing to take my chances.”

He kissed the insides of my thighs, first one side, then the other. My dress was still on, just pulled up.

He lowered his face to my mound, and I had to close my eyes out of nervousness. I felt his hot breath on my pussy, and then his lips, kissing me on the thatch of fur, my little triangle, and then his lips on my bare skin, where I'd been waxed.

As he kissed me on my swelling lips, I squirmed on the table, trying to get away from him and also get closer, all at the same confusing time.

Tenderly, he stroked my labia with his fingertips, parting them, and then he applied his lips and tongue. He swirled the tip of his tongue over my clit.

Into my pussy, he murmured, “Found it.”

“You sure did.”

He licked the firm nub up and down, then round and round. He brought me up and let me simmer as he moved his tongue further down, exploring my folds and opening.

I was going to tell him he was doing a great job, but he moved up quickly and set upon my clit with determination. In just a few minutes, I was a shaking, quivering mess. My moans pitched up and I think I muttered something about how he'd better not stop, and soon I was coming.

I gripped the sides of the wood table underneath me and groaned as I came, my eyes opening and fixing on the sleek light fixture above the table.

“Wow,” Devin said. “That was even better than I expected.”

I sat up, my head feeling woozy and stars flying around the room.

“You liked that?”

He grinned.

Now sitting on the edge of the table, I leaned down to kiss him. He pulled me in, hungrily meeting my lips.

You'd never guess that a month earlier, the guy had been afraid of kissing. Now he was a pro-quality kisser for all three types of kissing.

I pulled away and jumped off the table.

“I want to show you how good you made me feel,” I said. “Do you want me to give you a
special kiss
right here, or in your bedroom?”

“You don't have to.”

I looked him squarely in the eyes. “Devin, I want to. Some girls love to give head. I am one of those girls, so… lucky you.” I reached down and fondled the thick rod he was sporting inside his jeans. “I want you in my mouth.”