Читать книгу Scent of a Woman - Jo Leigh - Страница 10

SO MANY CHOICES. He was her very own buffet, and she could nibble to her heart’s content. Unbutton his shirt? She’d like to see his chest. On the other hand, maybe she should ignore the shirt and go directly to the pants.

While she pondered her delicious decision, she ran her hands over his arms, his chest. His body tensed, but he stayed in position. From his quiet struggle, she could see he wasn’t familiar with this role. He liked to be in charge.

Not tonight. And to reinforce the fact, she moved her hips back and forth, pressing herself against his straining erection. His moan was almost as satisfying as his expression. All that restrained lust made her tremble. Damn, this was fun.

“Shall I tell you what I want?” she asked, knowing he would say yes. In his condition, he would have agreed to anything.

He nodded. Opened his mouth, then closed it again, along with his eyes. A muscle twitched in his jaw, and his hands grasped his restraints as if they were lifelines.

She wondered how long it would take for him to lose it. For a moment, she pondered taking pity on the man. Undoing his belt, perhaps. No. The point of this little excursion was to set the tone. To see if her plan would work.

“I want,” she whispered, as she leaned over to touch the hollow of his throat with her fingers, “to play.”

His eyes snapped open and she took the challenge, her gaze and his locked. “I want to be anybody,” she said. “Anybody I’ve ever dreamed of being. I want to take out each one of my wicked desires, one at a time, and see where they take me. Take us.”

“Oh, God.”

She smiled. “I’ll interpret that as interest?”

“Yes.” The word was thick, low. As if his body were doing too many other things to be bothered with speech. Which, she imagined, was the truth.

She moved her hands down his chest again lightly, feeling him quiver beneath her. When she reached his belt, she toyed with the buckle, knowing she was driving him nuts, and loving it. “And I want you to whip out your—”

He inhaled sharply.

“…fantasies. No hesitation. No embarrassment. Tonight, dear David, is a prelude. A summit of sorts. We’ll lay the ground rules. There are lots of things I want to try, but there are certain taboos.”

“For example?”

She hesitated. Her voice had been steady all the way through her little speech. Confident, in fact. As if she did this every night. But now she was about to cross the line. Tell him things she’d never told anyone before. Not even Larry. If it was awful, if she hated it, she would never have to see David again. She hoped it wasn’t awful. “I’m not excited by cross-dressing,” she said.

“Me cross-dressing, or you?”

“Both. I like the differences between us.”

He flexed his shoulders, but he didn’t let go of the ties. “Go on.”

“I don’t like pain. Well, not a lot of pain.”

“What does that mean?”

She leaned down and captured his right nipple between her teeth. It would have been more interesting had he been undressed, but she could still make her point. She held the hard nub gently, flicking her tongue over the silk of his shirt. Then she increased the pressure.

His back arched as she continued to bite him. When he hissed and bucked slightly, she let him go.

He settled back down, squirmed, letting her know her illustration had had far-reaching effects, and met her gaze again. “I see.”

“Good. Now it’s your turn.”

“You’re done? Those are the only two things you don’t like?”

“No. But it’s still your turn.”

After exhaling and flexing his hands a few times, he nodded. “I don’t like it too messy. No unexpected bodily fluids.”

“Well said.”

“I try.”

“Go on.”

“I don’t care to enlarge the circle.”

“Hmm. Now that’s unusual.”

“What?”

“Most men would sell a lung to be with two women at the same time.”

“Nope. I like to focus. I don’t want any distractions.”

“So, I should call Tom Cruise and cancel?”

“Hey, no fair. I didn’t know you were going to ask him.”

She laughed. It took an exceptional man to be humorous when the subject was another man.

“I believe it’s your turn again,” he said.

“Right.” She let her hands wander south, and this time when she hit his belt, she kept going. Her touch as light as a feather, she ran her fingers down the straining length. “Safety first. No risking anyone’s life.”

“Good plan.”

“And we’ll always have an out. A safe word. I don’t want any psychological scarring here. This is meant to be freeing. Not twisted.”

His hips pushed up, his desperation mounting. There was more to be said, but first she needed to show a bit of mercy.

“David,” she said softly.

He grunted an attempt at a reply.

“We’re not going to have sex tonight.”

His groan was achingly heartfelt.

“Because we both need to think this through. This is new territory. Risky business. We’re going to be vulnerable. Bare our throats, as it were.”

“Susan,” he said, forcing the word out between clenched teeth. “I appreciate what you’ve said. And I concur. However, you should understand that I’m going to die in about two minutes. And all your hard work will be in vain.”

“Hmm. I suppose you have a point.”

“To say the least.”

She laughed again, but as she did, she lifted herself to her knees, her back straight, her eyes locked on his. Her hands went to the back of her head where she opened the tortoiseshell clip. Her hair tumbled around her shoulders and down her back.

David’s mouth opened and his cheeks flushed with color. She knew he’d react this way. The next step was going to be even more fun.

Slowly, knowing he couldn’t have looked away if he was on fire, she shook her head, fanning the last of the kinks from her hair. Only then did she lower her body once more. Controlling her movements with her thighs and her hips, she rode him. Friction, tension and heat were all focused on about eight inches of thick flesh. Her own breath became shaky as she rubbed harder, and she had to shift her position so she got as well as she gave.

“Oh, my God,” he said, thrusting up to meet her.

“I can’t… Please…”

“Please what?”

“I need to touch you.”

“You are touching me.” She squeezed her thighs to remind him of the contact.

“No. It’s not enough. Let me touch you. I need to feel your skin. Your hair.”

“But that would mean untying you.”

He groaned pitifully.

She increased her pace. Even though she wanted to feel his arms, his hands, she wasn’t going to give in. Like Scheherazade, she was going to hold back. Keep an ace in the hole. She wanted this to work. She wanted a playground, and she wanted her anonymity, and she wanted it with him.

His breathing changed, and she knew he was close. She bore down hard and ground herself against him. He wasn’t the only one close. Oh, damn, she was going to come before he did. No, no. Not yet. Not yet…

Her body shuddered violently as she climaxed. Tremors from deep within stole her breath. She arched her back as she continued to ride him. David moaned and thrust his hips up hard, and then every muscle in his body tensed as he passed the point of no return. His head went back, his neck bare and straining as he gritted his teeth. She wanted to stay, to watch him come down, to see the release in his eyes, but that wasn’t for tonight.

She slipped off the bed, grabbed her purse and her coat, and ducked into the bathroom. One coat of lipstick and a surprise for him, then she hurried to the door. Although she shouldn’t have, she looked back. David had gone slack, his chest heaving with his efforts to cool down.

When his head started to turn, she slipped out, closing the door behind her.

Walking on shaky legs to the elevator, she congratulated herself on a job well done. She’d actually pulled it off. No strings, no names, no boundaries. What could be more enticing?

The elevator door opened and she settled next to a nice-looking man in his forties. He tried not to stare, but his gaze kept coming back to her. Was it her hair? Men did love her hair. Or was it the look of smug satisfaction she couldn’t quite tame?

It didn’t matter. She’d done it. She’d gone after what she wanted. Not that it was a replacement for love and marriage and all that. She’d date if someone interesting came along. This was about pleasure. About breaking the rules. About knowing exactly why he was with her.

When the elevator hit the lobby, she gave her staring friend her most dazzling smile, then headed for home. She couldn’t wait to get into bed. What dreams she’d have tonight.

“SUSAN?”

When she still didn’t answer, David sighed. She’d disappeared. Why? It had all gone her way. So why ditch him? Why go to all this trouble and not even have sex? Okay, so they’d had sort-of sex, and he had to admit, he’d come like Old Faithful, but still. He hadn’t touched her once.

The thought reminded him about the ties around his wrists and in short order he’d freed himself. She’d left her scarf. If he knew her name, he would return it to her.

Dammit. Why the tease? How had he been so wrong about her? It made no sense.

He got up, stretched his neck muscles a bit, then headed for the bathroom. As he walked in, he smelled her perfume, the scent as mysterious as the woman. Something in the mirror caught his eye and he looked at the opposite wall. Nothing. He went to the sink, and the explanation was simple. It wasn’t reflected on the mirror. It was on the mirror itself. A message. In scarlet lipstick.

NEXT WEDNESDAY.

He grinned. She hadn’t ditched him. She’d just left in a very unique way. But then, this whole night had been unique. She was something else. Someone he wanted to discover.

God, what would her fantasies be? He felt pretty confident they weren’t going to be run-of-the-mill. He just hoped he was up to the task. A shudder hit him as he remembered the feel of her on top of him, the way she rubbed him so sensuously it was all he could do not to explode in the first two minutes.

How in hell was he going to live through next week?

Getting down to the business at hand didn’t distract him from his thoughts. As he washed up, it occurred to him that he was fifty percent of this duet. He’d have to come up with some ideas of his own.

Her tied up, spread-eagle, on the bed.

Okay, so that wasn’t terribly original. So what. He wasn’t trying to reinvent the wheel.

Him, on his knees, spreading her open before his eager mouth.

He grabbed the towel off the rack and dried his face.

He had seven days to get through. His patients deserved his full attention. Charley and Jane had rescheduled dinner for tomorrow night. His sister, Karen, was coming in for lunch on Monday. It was imperative that his primary focus be his regular life. At night, when he was safely in bed, he could think about…this. Fantasize to his heart’s content.

But not during business hours. He stared at his reflection, making sure he understood that he was serious. Then he dried himself off and headed out.

By the time he got to the elevator, he was hip deep in a scenario that could best be described as sex on wheels. Susan. Him. Back seat of a limo.

Shit.

The elevator arrived. He stepped inside, smiled at the elderly gentleman to his left, and wondered if it was time for him to go back and see his own shrink.

BY THE TIME Susan got to the theater, Peter and Andy were pacing in front of the box office. The play was by Nicky Silver, who was a favorite of hers, and the star was Peter Frechette, one of the best actors she’d ever seen. The night promised to be delightful, complete with après performance with the cast. And yet, Susan wanted to be somewhere else. Home, to be exact. It wasn’t that she didn’t love her friends, after all, Peter had been part of the gang since day one back in college, and he’d always been there for her, but in the two days since her evening with David, she’d barely been able to string two coherent thoughts together.

She felt like a voyager, setting off on an adventure filled with great risks, daring deeds, and possible treasure. Everything about David appealed to her, particularly that she knew virtually nothing about him. No family history, no comparative bank statements, no work baggage. He was elemental man, and he was hers for at least one more night. Wednesday had taken on all sorts of mythic proportions, and she’d giggled more than once at the very appropriate nickname of “hump day.”

“About time,” Peter said, scowling. He hated being late.

“I’m horrible. I don’t know why you love me.”

He rolled his eyes at Andy, his significant other.

“I don’t know why, either.”

She brushed imaginary lint off his coat shoulder, then kissed him softly on the lips. “But you do love me. That’s the point.”

“Only because act one hasn’t started. If you’d been five minutes later…”

“Well then, why are we standing out here? Let’s go.”

Andy laughed, took Peter’s hand and led them inside the theater. It was an off-Broadway house, the Manhattan Theater Club, and they had season tickets.

After they found their seats, Susan got her Playbill and flipped through the pages. Not that she was reading it. She hadn’t read much in the last two days. Or nights.

God, she was obsessed. She wished it was three weeks from now, and that she and David had settled into a routine. Nice, exciting, but not all-consuming. Sex. That’s all. Just sex and fun with a gorgeous guy. Everyone needs a hobby, right?

“Susan.”

She turned to Peter. “Hmm?”

“What is with you?”

“Pardon?”

“You’re being very weird. Is there something you want to tell me?”

“Weird? Moi? I don’t think so.”

Peter turned to Andy. Although she couldn’t see him, she knew he’d rolled his eyes again. Peter was quite fond of that gesture. When he turned back to her, his gaze went straight to her, no rolling, no mocking. Maybe a little bit of worry.

“I’m fine. Preoccupied, but fine.”

“Preoccupied about what?”

“Nothing important.”

Peter sat up straighter. “A man. This is about a guy, isn’t it?”

“No,” she said. Perhaps too loudly, as the couple in the seats in front of her turned to give her the evil-theater stare. “No,” she said again, whispering this time. Wondering why she was lying. Peter would understand. All her friends would. Maybe. If she told them.

“I don’t believe you, sweetheart.” Peter took her hand in his. “So I’ll just pretend you said yes. I hope he’s good enough for you. And that he doesn’t give one damn about, you know.”

She nodded. Leaned toward telling him all. Asking his opinion. But then the house lights dimmed and her decision was put off for the next couple of hours.

By the time the play had ended and the three of them headed backstage, she’d changed her mind. For now, at least. David was hers. She didn’t want opinions, or cautions, or even raised eyebrows.

She didn’t even want encouragement, which was confusing but true.

As they waited their turn to congratulate the playwright, she watched Peter and Andy. They’d been together over a year. Peter, who was a marvelous actor himself, had fallen for the man after getting reacquainted at a friend’s wedding. The two of them had first met in college, but things hadn’t worked out then.

Now, they seemed blissful. Truly content with each other. Andy wasn’t glamorous, or the best-looking guy on the block. But he was kind, and funny, and the way he treated Peter made her want—

Yes. Okay. Despite her hedonistic attitude toward the stranger named David, she did want to be part of a couple. And who knows? Maybe, one day, she’d find her other half.

In the meantime, there was no reason she couldn’t have a good time. Many good times.

She closed her eyes and pictured David. Particularly his luscious lower lip. It was only Friday. Many, many days to go before Wednesday. Thank God she had to work on Monday. That would help. Tuesday, however, would be completely focused on wardrobe selection, hair removal, facial and fantasy selection.

A tremor shot down her back as heat filled her cheeks. Luckily for her, Nicky Silver turned to her just then, and she could pretend her flushed demeanor was because of the play.

When she’d finished their brief talk, she found Peter staring at her. “This is someone different,” he said. “Isn’t it?”

She opened her mouth to deny it, but even she couldn’t tell that bold a lie. “Yeah.”