Indecent Exposure (6 page)

Was she playing him the way he was playing her?

As she stood there, he sat back in his chair as if getting comfortable. “Take off your dress.”

He noticed that she clutched her glass in front of her chest as if it were a shield.

“Why don’t you do it? Better still, why don’t we hit your bedroom and get naked at the same time?”

He grinned. “The last time we tried that, you ran off with my clothes and left me in a slight predicament.”

“I thought you weren’t going to hold that against me.” Absently, she ran her finger around the rim of her glass. “Besides which, this is your place. If I steal your pants, you’ve probably got a wardrobe full of others.”

He raised his drink in salute. “Good point.”

She placed her unfinished wine on an occasional table, then brought her gaze back to his. Reaching around to the back of her dress, she unbuttoned it, and ran her tongue slowly along her bottom lip. Blood steamed through his veins and his cock jumped in anticipation.

“How’s that?” she asked as the dress pooled at her feet and his gaze ran down the length of her, hovering for delicious long moments at her breasts and the strip of silk covering her cunt.

“Pretty good for starters.” His tongue felt thick in his mouth, his throat dry. She started to walk toward him, but he held up his hand and stopped her in her tracks. “Now the bra.”

Again, she reached around and unhooked the lacy bra. She covered the cups of the bra with her arm, so that the sides fell away but he couldn’t yet see her tits. Watching him, she slipped the straps from her shoulders, then slowly dropped her arm. The bra fell away to reveal plump, ripe breasts and dusky nipples standing proud. She threw the bra onto the floor.

This time she didn’t move, obviously tuned in to his desire for a full striptease. When she started to draw down the sides of her thong, he stopped her.

“I didn’t tell you to take those off.”

Her eyes went wide, before narrowing into sexy slits as she sashayed toward him.

He swallowed. “I didn’t tell you to move either.”

That stopped her in her tracks. “Do you want me to just stand here?”

“No. I want to watch you play with those delicious breasts.”

Shit, he didn’t quite know what the hell he was doing. Watching her play with herself would not exactly help his raging hard-on or settle the tension in his chest that made it more and more difficult to breathe. But he had a need to control her. Bend her to his will. That need grew each moment he spent with her, and every time she tried to speed things up, he had the overwhelming desire to slow them down. Torture her. Torture them both.

When she cupped her breasts and began slowly kneading them, he swallowed hard past a painfully parched throat. Her thumbs brushed over her hardened nipples and he had to suck in a breath to stop from shuffling in the chair and alerting her to his discomfort.

But the witch knew anyway. He could see it in her darkening eyes, her slow smile, the way she deepened the gyrations she made with her hips.
Fuck and damn.
He had to stop her.

“That’s enough,” he said in a tone that was low and ominous. He inclined his head to her crotch. “Now take them off.”

She hooked one thumb into the side of her thong, slipping the fingers of her free hand beneath the silky panel covering her pussy. She was going to play with herself.
Shit.
His cock couldn’t stand that. He was already in danger of shooting his load right there. He remembered how she’d felt beneath his mouth. Hot and slick. If she slipped her finger inside that beautiful cunt, he was definitely going to explode.

“You don’t take orders too well,” he growled.

She froze for a second, and he wondered if his warning had scared her. But then she smiled. “That all depends what you have in mind. And what’s in it for me.”

He waited for long moments. Then he took a swig from his glass. “My bedroom’s out the hall and the last room on the right.” He fixed her with a steady gaze. “Go there. Lie on the bed and wait for me. I expect you to be totally naked when I arrive.”

For some reason, he’d thought she’d argue, but she picked up her glass. “May I pay another visit to the bathroom on my way, oh Masterful One?” She waited for him to nod, then turned and walked out on those fuck-me shoes and with her gorgeous ass wiggling as she went.

He downed the rest of his wine in one go, then dropped his head back against the chair. His plan was disintegrating before his eyes, because no way was he going to be able to hold off fucking her at this rate. But he was still uncertain if their liaison would be a one of a kind thing—whether she intended to scratch an itch, then be on her way. If he had any sense, he’d be happy with that arrangement himself. He’d get to do her, scratch his own twelve year itch, and then put her out of his mind for good. What was the problem with that?

Because he didn’t know, he pushed it from his mind and renewed his determination not to take things to their logical conclusion right then. He wasn’t at all sure why, but he wanted there to be other nights. Something told him he wouldn’t get his fill of Gina McKenzie with one measly romp between the sheets. Besides, if he was going to be mercenary about it, he deserved more than a solitary fuck for the humiliation she’d put him through. Maybe he did deserve some payback. And he was going to get it.

If that meant holding off on fucking her tonight, he’d damn well have to do it.

With his resolve fixed anew, he headed for the bathroom.

Chapter Six

Gina couldn’t shake the feeling of unease that had settled in her since remembering that night with Costas.

The way Mitch had ordered her around, and now lying here naked on his bed, was too damn close to how it had started that night with Costas. He’d told her to do much the same thing. Get naked, lie on his bed and wait for him. When he’d come in, he’d blindfolded her and proceeded to tie her hands and then—hell, it still brought her out in a cold sweat—her ankles.

If Mitch came into the room carrying a scarf and ties, she was going to hightail it out of there and think about the consequences later.

Except she had to get that bloody photograph.

Having sex with Mitch wasn’t exactly abhorrent to her. She’d dreamed of it often enough. She’d fought the attraction all through college, but had warned herself off him. He’d been too regular for her. Too easy to fall for. And she wasn’t ever going to fall hard for any man.

The intervening years hadn’t made the attraction lessen. If anything, it was more potent now, more intense and urgent.

She wanted him. Wanted his hands all over her. Wanted him inside her.

If things had been different, she could have enjoyed this for what it was; a quick fling with a hot guy. But she was doing this for a reason and one reason only. It couldn’t be anything more. She wouldn’t let it be.

As soon as she got the photo of Mitch, Costas would hand over the video and it would all be over. Until then, she’d simply have to suck it up and do whatever Mitch wanted.

As she lay on the bed, her thong and heels discarded, she looked up at the ceiling. What was taking him so long? He’d stayed in the bathroom long enough for her to notice, and still hadn’t joined her on the bed.

She reached down for her bag. For the umpteenth time, she checked to make sure her phone was on camera standby, then reached into the back zipper pocket and pulled out a condom. She knew that Mitch would take care of it, but it didn’t hurt to be doubly prepared.

She placed the foil packet on the bedside table, then lay back and continued to stare at the ceiling. The night was still muggy and she welcomed the gentle whisper of air-conditioning that breathed over her naked flesh.

What was taking the man so damn long?

As if she’d summoned him with her thoughts, he appeared in the doorway, holding her dress and bra.

He strolled into the room, watching her as he moved to the side of the bed. He picked up her thong and shoes. Without a word, he went over to a cupboard by the wardrobe and pushed her clothes inside. Then he came back, dropped his hands on the bed either side of her shoulders, leaned down and kissed her.

The kiss was sultry and slow and she writhed gently beneath him. The man could certainly kiss.

He grinned, then bent down to get her bag from the floor. She scrambled up onto her elbows as he took her bag to the wardrobe.

“What are you doing?” Panic rose in her throat. “I’ll need my bag.”

“Why?” He put the bag inside and closed the cupboard door. “I’ve got condoms. What else do we need?”

He reached into a drawer above the cupboard and she realized he had a key in his hand. Locking the cupboard, he turned to her, grinned, then left the bedroom.

Her heart beat fast and heavy, while a chill rippled through her body. She needed her phone. Hell. She couldn’t take the photo without her phone.

She was about to get off the bed when he strolled back in.

“Give me back my bag, Mitch.”

“It’s not going anywhere.”

“Why are you doing this?”

He came over and resumed the position he’d taken before, his hands either side of her shoulders. “This time, I get to keep your clothes,” he said, grinning before he leaned down and kissed her again. “This time I call all the shots.”

For some reason, that scared her more than the fact her bag was locked away.

“I’m starting to wish I never looked you up at that reception.”

“No, you’re not.” He nibbled her mouth. “Think what you would have missed.”

When he deepened the kiss, she pushed herself back against the mattress. What on earth was she supposed to do now? She couldn’t have sex with the man unless she had the opportunity to take the photo. That most definitely wasn’t the plan. And it wasn’t what she wanted.

But his shirt-covered chest pressed hard against her naked breasts, and she knew she was lying to herself. Mitch Coleman had always been her guilty crush. She’d always wondered how it would feel to be with him.

Mitch kissed her jaw, then down along her throat. She closed her eyes against the heady sensations of his mouth caressing her flesh, his tongue stroking and flicking its way down her body. He took his time with her breasts, giving open mouthed kisses and making her arch up toward him as her nipples begged for equal attention. She was rewarded when his tongue flicked her nipple, the merest touch sending her nerve endings through the roof. She arched up again, but he didn’t cover her nipple with his mouth—just kept that torturous brush of his tongue over the hardened buds.

“Mitch. Touch me. I want to feel your mouth.”

His response was to move farther down her body, running the tip of his tongue lightly around her navel.

“Open your legs.” She did, but he growled, “Wider.”

Although she’d done as he commanded, he grabbed her thighs and pushed them farther apart. With the weight of his hands on her legs, she couldn’t move, couldn’t buck or arch toward him. He subjected her to the same slow and torturous movements, running his tongue along her groin and then down the inside of her thigh. It was agonizing having him so close to her pussy, his hot breath brushing her heat but not giving her what she wanted. Reversing his movement, he swapped to her other thigh, moving up the inside toward her groin.

“You bastard,” she grumbled when he still refused to give her what she craved. “Touch me.”

He laughed, a low and wicked sound that made her pussy throb harder. “Where do you want me to touch you?”

“Everywhere,” she gasped.

“Nowhere specific?” he asked, kissing the flesh at the top of her pussy.

“Right there,” she moaned softly. “Down a few inches.”

“Ah.” He said it almost conversationally, and it was only the jerky movement of his breath that signaled he was as turned on as she was. “You want me to lick you? Slide my tongue into your hot slit and push deep inside you?”

“Yes.” She all but screamed it. “Yes.”

“But then you’d come, my desperate little vixen. And you won’t come until I say so.”

His words irritated, but they also turned her on even more.

When he stood, she tried to scramble up, intent on getting him naked so they could get on with things. But he pushed her back down onto the bed.

“I’m not finished.”

“Why won’t you take your clothes off?”

“Like I said, this time I call the shots.”

She felt a shiver of fear. He had all her clothes, her bag. She truly was in his control. The thought made her feel intensely vulnerable. She’d felt that way once before, when Costas had pulled his reprehensible trick. She’d sworn never to be in that position again. Yet here she was and Mitch had somehow maneuvered her into relinquishing all control. Except there was a fundamental difference from what she’d felt with Costas. While she might feel vulnerable, she knew if push came to shove, Mitch would never hurt her.

With the realization came a release of some of the anxiety pulsing through her veins, and she allowed her muscles to relax as Mitch sat on the side of the bed.

He ran his hand down the sides of her ribcage. “Touch yourself for me.”

How does the man have such iron control?
Gina thought as she held his hot gaze. Why wasn’t he naked and inside her now? She reached her hand toward the hard evidence of his own arousal. “I’d rather touch you.”

He caught her wrist. “Not yet.”

She screwed up her forehead. “I don’t get you.”

“You don’t have to get me. All you have to do is touch yourself. Now. Do it.”

The way he dished out orders should have infuriated her, and it did on some level, but more than that, it excited her—turned her on.

She slid her hand down her body. The sooner she did what he asked, the sooner he’d be inside her.

With a passing thought for her phone, she assured herself that after they’d had sex and he fell asleep, she could go in search of the key. She’d make sure he was so damn exhausted, he’d sleep for hours. Then she could take the shot, dress and be on her way before he even knew she was gone.

As she slid her fingers over the lips of her pussy, she watched Mitch. She loved the way his eyes followed the movement of her hand and the way his gaze darkened in the process. She wondered if he enjoyed that she was bare, or if he preferred a light covering of hair. Not that it really mattered, since this would be the first and only time she’d be with him. Now that she no longer had to consider Costas and his preference for a shaved pussy, she might never again put herself through the agony—and indignity—of a Brazilian wax.

Slipping her fingers into her slit, she heard Mitch groan. Things were heating up. His chest heaved, his breath deepened and all the while, he kept his attention firmly fixed on what she was doing. Spurred on by his reaction, and the thought that he would have to be a eunuch not to be affected by a woman playing with herself, she pushed in another finger and arched her back as she writhed and moaned softly, putting on a show for Mitch’s benefit.

Keeping up the slow, steady movement of her hand, she dropped her chin to her chest and looked up at him from beneath lowered lashes. “My hand’s getting tired. Want to take over?”

Not saying anything, he stood and stripped off his jacket. His shirt followed. He’d always been built, but now he was
built
. His shoulders were broader, leading to a wide muscled chest and well toned abdominals. A smattering of dark hair covered his pectorals, then arrowed down the center of his body to disappear beneath the waistband of his trousers.

He unbuckled his belt and pulled it from the loops. With hands not quite steady, he slipped the button at his waistband before sliding his zipper down.

“Keep moving,” he growled, and Gina realized she’d ceased pleasuring herself while she’d been copping an eyeful of his rather spectacular physique. He’d been quite something in college, but now he was breathtaking.

She started moving her hand again, disappointed when he failed to remove his pants. She could only imagine how big he would be. If his cock was in proportion to the rest of him, she was in the process of becoming a very happy woman.

Nostrils flaring, he came to stand at the foot of the bed. She had a moment of panic when he grabbed her ankles, but he only yanked her down the bed until her lower legs hung over the end. He dropped to his knees and, realizing his intent, she stopped touching herself. He didn’t repeat his demand for her to continue, but instead hoisted her legs over his shoulders. Slowly, he lowered his head.

She scrambled onto her elbows, closing her eyes briefly at the light touch of his finger to her heat. He pressed her pussy lips together, then slid the tip of his tongue along the slit. Her core muscles clenched, her nerves screamed and she dropped back against the mattress. He dipped his tongue a little deeper, and she had to grip the sheet for purchase as sensation stormed through her.

The pressure built, making her writhe with abandon, desperate for his penetration.

“Quit squirming,” he ordered darkly, his hot breath coursing over her pulsing heat.

“Then stop doing that.” But she pushed her hips up toward him, desperate for more. If he did as she asked, she thought she might just pass out with desperation.

How wrong she was. Because although he stopped, she didn’t pass out. She had no time to do anything except be thankful when the next powerful onslaught to her senses began.

He pushed her knees up higher, until she was decadently open to him. His skin burned against her flesh and the heat from his body was its own source of assault. When his tongue plunged deep, she knew she would gladly have died in the battle.

He pushed hard, drew back. Pushed hard, drew back. Over and over until she was struggling for air and sanity. He slid a finger inside her, making her jerk, but still his relentless tongue continued to pleasure her. Another finger joined the first and brushed against her pleasure spot.

Her head swam, her muscles clenched, then behind her eyes lights exploded and ripples of undulating pleasure caught her in a dangerous spiral. Her entire body pulsated to his continual attack.

“Oh…God. Mitch.” His movements slowed but didn’t stop. As she came down from the heady heights, she felt desperately defenseless once more. Exposed. Vulnerable.

Finally, the relentless press of his tongue ceased and he came off his knees. She tried to lower her legs from his shoulders when he moved over her, but he pushed them back. His mouth was slick with her juices, his eyes dark and gleaming, his chest pumping for breath. Had she ever felt more desirable, more sexy, more wanton than she did right then with Mitch’s gaze boring into hers?

“Okay?”

She stretched her arms back over her head, enjoying the way he lavished attention on her breasts as she arched up. “You’re far too good at that.”

He grinned and moved up farther, the action pushing her knees up almost to her shoulders. She offered a silent prayer of thanks that she practiced what she preached and took flexibility classes at the studio.

He anchored his arms beside her. “At what? Eating you?” He dropped a kiss to her mouth. “You taste fucking good, too fucking good. I’ll be wanting another course.”

“I’m feeling a little hungry myself about now.” She reached down to his zipper, but he moved his hips away from her searching hand. “Come on. It’s only fair. You’ve made me come three times now. How is it that you’re not chomping at the bit for a little release of your own?”

When he grinned, she narrowed her eyes. “You got yourself off,” she accused sharply. “That was why you were in the bathroom so long.”

He laughed. “A man does what he has to do.”