Wicked Bet: A Bad Boy Romance (7 page)

“Tell me what you’re doing now,” he said, so I narrated as I changed into the new sexy bra and panty set. Ian was impatient. “Is it fastened yet? How does it feel?”

“It makes me feel pretty damn hot,” I said, feeling my face flush at the admission. But it really did. I felt like a sex goddess, and I couldn’t wait to have Ian see me in it ... and peel it off of me. “Hold on, I have to put the phone down to get my sweater over my head.”
 

“No, don’t put your clothes on yet.”
 

“Okay,” I said, half nervous and half excited.
 

“Take out the lipstick I gave you.”
 

Mmm ... this was getting interesting. I dug it out of my small black purse. “Got it.”
 

“Use it to write on your stomach above your panties.”
 

Seriously? “What am I writing?”
 

“Write
Ian’s
on your belly. And then draw an arrow pointing downward.”
 

“You can’t be serious.”
 

“Do I sound like I’m not?”
 

“But ... but ... what if I get in an accident and get rushed to the hospital? Everyone will see.” It was all I could think of, and even I knew it wasn’t the strongest of arguments.

“If you end up in a hospital, then the people there—and you—have bigger problems than a little writing. Besides,” he said with a chuckle, “that underwear you’re wearing should tell them everything they need to know about what kind of woman you are. A fun, sexy, kinky woman. So go ahead and write it. Now.”
 

“Okay.” I took a deep breath and uncapped the lipstick.
 

“Write it so I can read it later, not so that you can read it in the mirror.”
 

“I know,” I said, eager to get this over with. But it was turning me on, too. I could feel the moisture build between my legs as I traced careful letters over my stomach. When I was done, I looked in the mirror. Ian’s name read backwards to me, but there was no mistaking where the arrow was pointing. I wished he were here right now to see it.
 

Without waiting to be asked, I snapped a picture and sent it to him.
 

“Holy shit that’s hot. You look so fucking hot, babe.” His voice was quiet but intense.

“Thanks,” I said, still feeling a range of emotions, arousal definitely in the mix. “You won’t ever show it to anyone, will you?”

“Of course not. You know I’d never do that, Lyss.”
 

“You're right. I do know that,” I said.
 

“Are you still alone?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Look out of the stall and see if there’s a trashcan nearby.”

 
I did as he said. There was one about ten feet away by the sinks.
 

“Without putting the rest of your clothes back on, I want you to walk over to the trashcan and throw away your old bra and panties.”

“What? I can’t walk around like this in a public restroom.”

“Yes, you can. It’ll probably take you less than ten seconds. What are the odds someone will come in during that time?”
 

My mind was still protesting, but to my surprise, my body was responding to the risk and naughtiness of Ian’s idea. I could feel moisture between my legs grow and my pulse quickening. Still, there was no way I could do that. Plus, I didn’t want to pitch a perfectly good bra and pair of panties, as I explained to Ian. “Do you know how hard it is to find underwear that’s both sexy and supportive?”
 

He laughed. “Okay, if you
really
don’t want to throw it out—and I still think it’s because you’re too chicken to leave the stall—here’s an alternative. Put you phone between your shoulder and your ear so that your hands are free.”

“Done,” I said. “Can you hear me okay?”

“Yes. Now reach into your bra cups and pinch your nipples. Both at the same time. Get a good grasp on them with your fingertips and don’t let go. Are you doing that?”
 

My moan must have convinced him that I was. I felt ridiculous, standing there in my underwear playing with my nipples. And in the restroom of an upscale shopping district! I felt foolish, but again, my body seemed to have a mind of its own. It was like a string was attached between my nipples and my clit, and it pulled tighter the more I tugged on my stiff peaks.

“God, your little moans sound so fucking sexy, babe. In fact ... ” There was a pause. “You still alone?”
 

“Yes,” I managed to say.
 

“Good. Keep pulling on your nipples. Pinch them tight for me. And while you’re doing that ... fake an orgasm.”
 

“What?”

“You heard me. I want to hear you pretend to come. Heavy breathing, moaning, losing control ... prove to me how good an actress you are. Prove to me how badly you want the real thing tonight.”
 

“But what if someone comes in —”
 

“Then you can stop right away. But you can do this. Right now. Or walk to the trashcan. One or the other.”
 

Damn ... his being all commanding was really getting to me. As were my own fingers on my nipples. Experimentally, I took a couple of deep breaths. Faking rapid breathing wasn’t very hard. Once I started, it kind of felt natural. I was already excited, and somehow knowing he was listening turned me on even more.
 

Next I added some moans, deep in my throat, whimpering as I panted even more. I kind of forgot myself and gave an extra sharp pinch to my nipples. That made my moans more genuine.
 

“That sounds really hot, babe,” Ian said in my ear.
 

“Mmm,” was my only response. I was really getting into it now. I closed my eyes and rolled my head back, breathing harder, moaning louder, as if I were really getting close to coming. And it almost felt like I was. Who knew that pretending to be close to an orgasm could feel this damn good?
 

But the audio show must go on. I sped up my breathing, taking short little panting breaths the way I did when Ian was going down on me or riding me hard. As I got closer and closer—I meant, as I
pretended
to get closer and closer—it really did feel incredible. When I cried out with a pretend release, I felt like all it would take was a few quick strokes of my clit to turn my act into reality.
 

Feeling a little weak, I slumped against the wall, releasing my nipples. I was still breathing hard.
 

“Shit, that sounded sexy. And it sounded real. Did you actually come?”

“No. But it felt pretty damn good.”

“I never knew you could fake that well.”
 

Panting, I marshaled my thoughts, trying to think how to explain it to him. “It didn’t really feel like faking. You got me all hot and bothered by telling me what to do. And when I was tugging on my nipples, I could feel it between my legs somehow. So it didn’t feel like faking to me ... it felt like exemplifying what I was feeling inside. Though now I
really
want to come with you later on.”
 

“And we will, tonight. Go ahead and get dressed. You did well,” he said, and then he hung up.

Still a little weak at the knees, I put my clothes on. Shakily, I made my way to the gorgeous marble sink and peered into the mirror. Damn, I even
looked
like I’d had an orgasm. My face was flushed and my hair was a little messy, perhaps from pulling the sweater over my head.
 

My phone chimed with an incoming text. Ian had sent an address, one I didn’t recognize. He’d surprised me—very pleasantly surprised me—this morning with the first part of his plan, so I wondered what he might have in store for Part Two. Making my way to my car, I didn’t come up with much. Ian had always been able to think outside the box. That’s one of the things that made him so good at his job. And it was one of the things that made him so exciting in the bedroom—at least when we used to have time for that sort of thing.

After entering the address in GPS, I made my way to Ian’s next destination. The address turned out to be in a commercial district I’d passed before, but never spent much time at. There were fast food restaurants and some stores mixed in with older buildings.
 

I made a right past a small hardware store, and then another right into a parking lot behind the building. According the GPS, this was the address. I looked around. Was I supposed to go in the hardware store?
 

And then I saw it. At the other end of the parking lot. With a wooden fence around it, shielding people inside from curious eyes.
 

It was an adult toy store.

Chapter Ten

“SERIOUSLY?” I SAID to myself.
Seriously?
I texted Ian. While waiting for his response, I looked around the parking lot. There were only a few cars. The store itself didn’t look seedy. If actually looked as if it could be a pleasant retail space, perhaps a small clothing store or resale shop. That was if you could miss the two-foot-high letters that spelled out the word ADULT on the roof.
 

A moment later, Ian replied:
I take it you’ve reached your destination. Surprised?

I replied:
Yes! Do you really expect me to go in there?
 

He replied:
No, I actually think you won’t be brave enough. But you never know. You went that one time senior year of college.
 

I blushed, but a warm flush filled my body at the memory of the various ways our purchases had spiced things up. I replied:
That was different. You were with me then. And that was a dare.
 

His response was quick:
And this isn’t? I’ll make it official. I dare you to go in there.
 

I snorted with derision, a rather useless effort when communicating by text.
Like that’s going to make me do it. I’m not going to be goaded into doing something just because you dared me. I’m not a teenager.
 

He replied:
You weren’t last time, either. But it’s your call. If you're not at all interested in buying something that’ll make your back arch, your hips buckle, and your eyes roll back in your head, that’s fine.

I glared at the screen, determined not to take the bait. I wasn’t going in there, so there was no sense asking him what he wanted me to buy. No sense at all. In fact, I wasn’t even curious.
 

Yeah, right.
 

He texted:
Maybe I should send you off to a craft fair. You could get yourself a nice quilt or an afghan. Do you think you could buy one of those without getting too embarrassed?
 

Damn him! I waged—and lost—a quick internal war. I just had to know.
What did you want me to buy?
 

He replied:
Tell me you’ll go in, and I’ll tell you.
 

I hate you,
I replied untruthfully.
 

No, you don’t
, he answered.
 

Okay, maybe I didn’t hate him, but at the moment I wanted to smack him upside the head. How could he be so arrogant in such short bursts of text?
All right, I’ll go in.
 

He replied:
That’s my girl. Still got money left over from before?
 

Do you think I bought a diamond-encrusted bra?
I replied.
 

I’ll take that as a yes,
he replied.
Go in there and buy a toy that has a remote.
 

A remote? As in ... a toy that vibrated that he could control? The thought turned me on even as a shiver of delicious apprehension stole through me. Ian used to be quite adept at making me feel opposing sensations like that. I guess it was good to know he still could.
 

* * *

A few minutes later, I approached the store entrance wearing dark sunglasses and a baseball cap I’d found in the trunk. I’d gathered my hair in a ponytail and threaded it through the back of the hat. It brought back memories of going to Ian’s baseball games in college.

I’d also thrown on a jacket. Not that I was ashamed to go in there. I was an adult, and I had every right to have a sex life. To enjoy being kinky. But yeah, I was a little ashamed to go in there. And also a little excited.
 

The store wasn’t as intimidating as I’d thought it would be. Sure, there was a huge DVD section, and the walls were lined with brightly colored toys, some made to look like realistic body parts, some designed by people who appeared to know nothing about the size of normal human orifices. But overall, the retail area didn’t look too sleazy or dirty.

There was a surprisingly clean-cut thirty-something guy behind the counter, an older couple in the back looking at leather paddles, and a man in a trench coat in the corner flipping through a magazine. He wore a baseball cap pulled low over his face, too. Glad I wasn’t the only one who’d employed that not-so-subtle technique.
 

“Help you find something?” the guy at the register asked.
 

“Just looking,” I said as confidently as I could manage—which was pretty damn confident, given my career. Speaking in front of a courtroom was good practice for acting self-assured even when you weren’t.
 

I wasn’t about to ask where the toys with remotes were, so I wandered through some aisles that looked promising. Passing shelves of dildos from every size between barely-there to get-that-monster-the-hell-away-from-me was rather eye opening. I figured this place must sell a lot of lube.
 

At the end of an aisle, I spotted a small cardboard display of batteries, so I figured I must be getting close. Sure enough, there was a section of the back wall that had vibrating eggs. Most were inexplicably bright neon colors and were attached to remotes by thin cords.
 

The remote was attached? What was the fun in that? I let out a small chuckle, and the man in the corner turned toward the sound. I ignored him. He was probably a flasher with that trench coat. Did he even have anything on underneath it? I resisted the urge to sneak a peek at his legs.