Wine, Tarts, & Sex (7 page)

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Authors: Susan Johnson

BOOK: Wine, Tarts, & Sex
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He held out the shrimp. “So what d’you say? As long as we’re on a roll?”
“I guess,” she said, trying to sound blasé when there wasn’t a chance in hell she could have actually refused him anything.
“Open up, babe.” A
genuinely
blasé tone.
I am already
, she thought. But she opted for discretion, since lusting women probably weren’t a news flash for Jake Chambers.
Easing upward, he slipped the shrimp into her mouth. “Now bite.”
His softly enunciated command shuddered through her vagina with an electrifying jolt. He was sure of himself, confident, familiar with women doing what he wanted. She shouldn’t have responded to such arrogance, but a hot rush of liquid longing flooded her cunt, and as though she were without will of her own, all she could think of was,
Please, please, fuck me NOW, NOW, NOW!
Maybe he could read minds. His gaze narrowed slightly. “How about five minutes from now?” he said before falling back into a sprawl.
“Thanks.” She didn’t pretend not to understand; although it took effort to offer an urbane smile when she was really much, much too eager. “I blame the shrimp for my horniness.”
He smiled back. “Whatever works. Give me a few minutes, though. I need nourishment. I wouldn’t want to disappoint you.”
As if
, she thought, surveying his spectacular cock, undiminished and tempting. “Take your time.”
He looked up, a forkful of chorizo poised halfway to his mouth. “Really?”
“I was being polite.”
He grinned. “Gotcha. Four minutes and counting then,” he said, all chivalrous gallantry.
A short time later, after consuming a good portion of chorizo and shrimp, he set about clearing the dishes from the bed. Clearly experienced at stacking dishes, he picked up the perfectly balanced pile of plates and, twisting around, set them on the floor in the most gorgeous display of sinuous, tawny-colored muscle she’d ever had the good fortune to see. “You must work out,” she murmured, as he pulled himself back up in a supple surge of rock-hard abs.
“I do a little kendo.” He tossed the napkins and empty champagne bottle on the floor. “Fourteen hours a day throwing pots and pans around the kitchen also helps keep you in shape. Are we done talking?”
“Whatever you say, boss.”
His brows flickered. “You mean I didn’t have to eat that fast?”
She smiled. “I appreciate it, of course.”
“I thought you might. And with dessert waiting, I had plenty of incentive to hurry.” Seizing her ankles, he flipped her onto her back and in answer to her wide-eyed look, said with a lazy smile, “Any special instructions?” Without waiting for an answer, he ran his palms up her legs, eased her thighs apart and, silently thanking Chaz for his oversized bed, adjusted himself comfortably between Liv’s legs. Glancing up to meet her heated gaze, he quirked one brow. “No orders? Last chance.”
“Just a minute,” Liv murmured on a suffocated breath, her vagina pulsing so hard the desperate ache slid all the way up her spine and spiked into her brain, his idea of dessert, his outrageous desirability and magnetic appeal making her unstrung and ravenous when she was
never
ravenous. “I’m not sure I like . . . being . . . out of control,” she gasped.
“Sure you do.”
“Screw you,” she breathed, pissed at his casual assurance. She should have listened to her voice of reason downstairs and kept walking when she had the chance. Now she wasn’t so sure she could.
“Hey. I’m barely holding it together, too,” he gruffly retorted. But rather than explain, he put his hand over her mouth—the male answer to baffling doubts. Abruptly dipping his head, he opened her dewy cleft with his fingertips and ran his tongue up her slick tissue with delicacy and finesse, with perfect GPS know-how in terms of nerve locations. He could have been thoughtfully arranging a fantasy dessert to best effect, so exacting was the placement of his tongue and fingers. As though he knew to perfection how to turn her on—or maybe the scores of women before her had been a universal sisterhood when it came to getting off this way.
In due course, when her labia—major and minor—had been excited to a frenzied nicety, he turned his attention to her clit, and if being out of control had once been an issue, it no longer was.
Complete and absolute sensation took precedence.
Carte blanche, as it were, on the road to ecstasy.
For the next blissful interval only Liv’s breathy moans and orgasmic cries punctuated the silence of the loft. Jake deftly brought her to climax once, then twice, and lifting his head slightly, he paused, waiting for some cue about a possible third time.
Stabbing her fingers through his thick hair, she jerked his head back.
Definitely a cue. He got back down to business.
And Liv gave herself up to raw, over-the-edge, soul-stirring rapture that insinuated itself into every sensitive, greedy nook and cranny, every rapt nerve and throbbing bit of flesh previously unaccustomed to such neon-lit carnal splendor.
Not that she was currently in the right frame of mind to consider that past discrepancy.
For his part, Jake found Liv’s total abandon appealing. That she was completely genuine in a world given increasingly to spin and pretense held a distinctly down-home charm. Or perhaps it was disarming only in contrast to his glitterati world where poseurs were the norm.
Not that any of his philosophical reflections were relevant up against his increasing randiness. And just as soon as darling Livvi came again, he was going to replace his tongue with his cock and blast off.
“Oh God, oh God, oh God—oh God,” she panted.
Perfect timing,
he thought, gently sucking her clit as her third orgasm ripped through her vagina. She was definitely on some kind of hair trigger. Not that he was complaining when it would soon be his turn. Although he knew better than to stop what he was doing until her last little sigh died away. Even then, he gave her time to return to the real world before easing back and resting on his elbows.
“You’re way too good,” she breathed, glancing down at him from under her lashes. “I’m writing off Shelly tonight.”
He liked that she didn’t ask. He particularly liked that her plans matched his. He’d written off Shelly a long time ago. “I was hoping you’d stay,” he said with a smile, “seeing how it’s my turn now.”
“Definitely. After that last glorious orgasm, I owe you. Any special instructions?” she waggishly inquired.
“In my current purist frame of mind,” he murmured, coming up on his knees and reaching for a condom, “all I want is the feel of your hot cunt closing around my cock. Say a couple hundred times.”
She gave him a sunny smile. “I’m really,
really
glad I stopped by.”
He glanced up as he ripped open a foil packet, a smile slowly forming on his finely modeled mouth. “Believe me, I couldn’t have asked for a better wine merchant. ” He unrolled the condom over his throbbing cock, snapped it in place, and, placing the flat of his hands on either side of her arms, smoothly dropped between her widespread legs.
It was a seriously unforgettable sensation, he decided a moment later, as he glided inside her soft, slick warmth, her cunt’s tightness conforming to his hard-on with a highly provocative, all-absorbing reluctance. His toes curled, a thin film of sweat appeared on his forehead, and only with sheer will did he resist his body’s inclination to enter her at ramming speed. But by the end, he was champing at the bit, more impatient than usual, more frenzied, and when he finally bottomed out, only then did he notice her tautness. “Christ,” he muttered, instantly pulling back. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
“You didn’t.” A soft almost inaudible sound.
He met her gaze, his brows rising faintly in query.
Her nostrils flared, and it took her a moment to find her breath. “I don’t actually believe in karma, but the earth moved back there.”
“No shit,” he grunted. “And I don’t believe in much of anything.”
A smile lifted the corners of her mouth. “So . . . can you do it again?”
“Like this?” He glided back in.
Her eyes drifted shut, she raised her hips into his downthrust, accentuating the stunning pressure. “Exactly like that,” she breathed, sliding her hands around his neck. “Don’t ever stop . . .”
He knew what she meant; he had no intention of stopping. Nor would he have, if the phone on the bedside table hadn’t begun ringing at such jarring decibel levels it hurt his ears. Swearing, he glanced at the phone. But too far gone at the moment to consider answering it, he concentrated instead on the onset of Liv’s next orgasm, ultimately joining her in another mind-blowing climax so awesome it momentarily drowned out the ringing of the phone.
They lay collapsed afterward, replete.
He unconsciously shifted on his elbows, not crushing the woman under him hardwired into his brain.
“It stopped,” Liv murmured.
“What?” He was still drifting in that never-never land of sweet gratification.
“The phone.”
“Good.”
They both ignored the red voice mail light that had started blinking. They both had better things on their minds.
Later though, when Jake was once again capable of coherent thought and speech, he debated listening to the message. But it was getting late. Whoever called could wait until morning.
If the phone hadn’t rung again moments later and yet a third and fourth time shortly after that, he might have persevered in his decision. But he’d been in restaurant crisis management too long to ignore the fourth call.
“Do you mind?” It was politesse only; he was already rolling into a seated position on the edge of the bed and stripping off his condom. A second later, he punched into the voice mail and listened to the increasingly frantic messages before glancing at Liv. “I have to respond to these,” he gruffly noted. “My manager in L.A. is negotiating for some hard-to-get wines. Devain’s vineyard only produces a few cases a year.” He smoothed his palms over his hair and blew out a breath. “I don’t want to lose them.”
“You don’t want to lose wines like that,” Liv murmured, stretching lazily, knowing Devain as well as any wine connoisseur. “No problem. I’ll wait.”
His dark brows came together in a frown. “This could take a while. He’s a prick to deal with.”
Coming up on her elbows, she looked at him squarely. “Are you brushing me off?” She was never brushed off, which may have accounted for her mildly pugnacious tone. Or maybe the idea of relinquishing the pleasure he offered displeased her more.
“God, no,” he said, leaning over and dropping a conciliatory kiss on her cheek. “Stay a week.” Anyone knowing Jake would have been shocked by his statement. “In fact,” he added, immune to previous lifestyle habits when right after this phone call, getting off again was number one on his list, “I’ll be right back with something to amuse you while I talk this over with Eduardo.”
“I’m not in the mood to read,” Liv drolly noted.
He winked. “You won’t be reading, babe.” Coming to his feet, he jabbed a finger at her. “Now, stay put.”
“Yes, sir, whatever you say, sir,” she teasingly replied.
He grinned. “I can see we’re gonna get along just fine.”
They were already getting along finer than she’d ever gotten along with anyone, but his ego probably didn’t need further stroking.
She watched him walk away: tall and tanned—swarthy by nature, she suspected—muscled like a stevedore, handsome as sin . . . with a cock to die for and a real proficiency at using it. She’d be crazy not to wait.
And before she had time to do more than thank her lucky stars for having stopped by, Jake returned from the kitchen balancing a large, peeled zucchini upright on his palm. It had been carved into a realistic facsimile of an erect penis with smoothly rounded glans, sculpted veins and the slight arc of full-blown arousal.
“Here’s something to keep you interested until I’m off the phone. I wouldn’t want you to be unhappy while you’re waiting.”
“It doesn’t look like I will be. You’re so very talented,” Liv purred, her body already opening in anticipation.
“Ice swans or dildos, it’s all in a day’s work,” he said with a grin. “But more importantly,” he added, sitting down on the edge of the bed, “let’s see if I figured the size right. I was guessing you’d like the economy size.” Leaning over, he eased her legs apart with one hand and slipped the smooth head past her labia, slowly forcing the large dildo deep inside her.
The coolness, the exquisite pressure instantly triggered her already overwrought nerves. She shivered as a shimmering rush of arousal washed over her. No longer questioning her inexplicable longing, she basked in the feverish glow instead, giving Jake high marks for estimating the perfect, optimal size. The zucchini was big, but not too big or almost . . . almost . . . too big in the most exquisite possible way.
When he finally whispered, “There. It’s all the way in,” and nudged it just a little deeper with his palm, she shut her eyes against the wild, explosive delirium convulsing her senses.

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