Lynda's Lace (6 page)

He ran one hand back through his hair, exasperated. “Well, I sure as hell didn’t give you much of a choice. And I wouldn’t blame you if you never wanted to see me again.” He let out a sigh, at a loss for how to apologize enough.

As she raised her gaze to his, he peered down into eyes filled with more understanding than he deserved.

“This isn’t me,” he said, shaking his head. “This isn’t the kind of guy I am at all.” He ran another hand through his hair, feeling a little disoriented himself. “Damn, must be the wine or something.”

“Yeah,” she agreed, nodding, “it was potent.”

“But still, damn it, I don’t know what got into me. I didn’t consider your feelings at all, and I feel like a piece of shit.”

Still stunned by the whole event, Lynda reached up to stroke his arm, an effort to comfort him. “Baby, it’s okay. I…didn’t mind.” She sucked in her breath. Okay, there, she’d said it. Kind of.

Only he didn’t quite believe it—she could tell. He continued shaking his head. “That’s sweet of you, precious—truly. But you’re just saying that, trying to make me feel like less of an ass. You couldn’t possibly have
wanted
something like that.”

But I did. I loved it insanely and I want more, more, more.

Although it was hard to get such words out when
his
words implied there might be something wrong with her if she’d really enjoyed their fast and frantic little
fuckfest
. Clearly, he thought his actions deeply reprehensible.

And she’d
tried
to tell him how she really felt, damn it. Perhaps too feebly, yet maybe that was because she couldn’t help sensing the repulsion he’d feel if he really
understood
what she yearned for.

In addition to her own selfish concerns, though, she just plain hated seeing her sweet lover so overwrought simply from having unplanned sex in an alleyway. God, what would he think if he found out she’d done this before, more than once? Hell, for all she knew, she’d probably done it in this very same alley.

“Can you ever forgive me?” He lifted a warm palm to cup her cheek.

“There’s nothing to forgive,” she said softly. Maybe she should have said more, tried again to tell him the truth, but her chief goal at the moment was simply to make him feel better, and this seemed the easiest way.

“You’re too sweet to me.”

“I disagree. You’re easy to be sweet to.”

He gave his head a rakish tilt. “Is there anything I can do to make this up to you?”

She let out a long sigh.
Please stop feeling so guilty, Jordan.
How could he feel so horribly over something she would probably now masturbate to the memory of?

But maybe part of this was
her
fault. She wished she’d managed to react as she normally would have while he’d been fucking her, but she hadn’t. She’d simply been too shocked and overwhelmed to spew out the usual “more, baby,
more”s
. And she’d been trying not to scream too loudly only for the practical reason of not wanting to draw a crowd and ruin the fun.

I loved it. Just say that.
But she couldn’t. He’d think she was a total slut. Which wasn’t a term she’d ever really been offended by, except when used as a blatant or nasty insult. But she didn’t want Jordan to think of her that way. Now it was just too late for honesty.

So she finally replied with, “Well, yes, I can think of
one
thing you can do.” Something that would take the focus off his guilt and put it back onto pleasure.

“Name it, precious.”

“Take me home and give me the thorough licking I was promised.”

A slow, heated grin formed on his face. “
That’s
my punishment?”

“Torturous, I know.”

“I’ll take that kind of torture any day.”

* * * * *

Lynda leaned up against the headboard, wearing nothing but the little yellow confection Jordan had given her earlier. Lacy cups held her breasts snugly, creating deep cleavage, and a yellow ribbon tied the
nightie
together just beneath. Pale chiffon wafted downward from there to her hips, parting in the
center
to bare her stomach. As Jordan had requested earlier, she didn’t bother with the matching panties, so when she spread her legs across the sheets for Jordan’s perusal, the move put her pussy on bold display.

“
Mmm
, my hot, precious baby,” he said on a low moan. He stood naked at the foot of the bed, his majestic cock standing at thick and glorious attention.

A flash of memory rushed through her head—an hour earlier, him ramming all nine inches into her with spectacular force—and the jolting recollection made her hotter than she already was. She looked him in the eye, licked her upper lip, and knew instinctively that her pink folds glistened for him.

“You look so damn pretty.”

Drawing his gaze from her eyes to her waiting
cunt
, Jordan crawled slowly toward her from the foot of the bed, the muscles in his shoulders and back shifting beneath his olive skin, sexy and smooth with every move he made.

His strong hands rose to massage her inner thighs, the sensation
spiraling
inward and forcing Lynda to let out a high-pitched sigh. Then he bent close, closer, to blow on her pussy. She shuddered softly, then watched as her man dragged the very tip of his tongue lightly over her clit.

“Oh,” she gasped as the pleasure rippled upward.

Then he did it again, slightly firmer this time, with a little more tongue, and the pleasure pushed deeper, nearing her very core.

“Yes,” she whispered. “Lick me, lover.” Then, on impulse, she lifted her hands to her breasts and squeezed, only to realize she couldn’t feel them very well through the thick cups. Damn lace.

But she bit back her frustration and instead reached downward, running her hands through Jordan’s dark hair. She moved her fingernails gently over his scalp, knowing the area could be one of those unexpected erogenous zones, then listened to his responsive moan.

He sank fully into his work now, raking his wet tongue deeply through her furrows, clearly trying to taste her very essence and make her feel his ministrations as thoroughly as possible. She relished watching him lavish such affections on her, liked seeing her wetness around his lips and on the tip of his sexy nose when he looked up at her. The sweet, hot joy echoed through her body and had her spreading her legs even wider, wider, as she suffered the impossible urge to somehow open herself to him even more.

Mmm
, she couldn’t help thinking that maybe a little lace was okay if it got her
this
, and as he ate at her with unconcealed enthusiasm that rocked her very soul, the memory of the alley gave her hope for her man’s darker, more animalistic side.

Well, a little, anyway. If he hadn’t freaked out about it so much.

And yet, once more, as Jordan’s skilled tongue pressed deep now, gaining entry into her wet passageway, she was forced to ask herself, what was so boring about
this
? His head between her legs, delivering pure, searing pleasure?
Nothing
. No one could call such an eager tongue on such a sexy and sophisticated man boring.

Except that…

She wanted it
all
!

She wanted
this
—
and
the alley.

Maybe she didn’t mind lace—if there was sometimes leather.

She longed for lovemaking—but also for hot and dirty fucking.

She hated realizing that, even now, even as she soaked up pleasure from him—but it only drove home how very true it was and how deep her needs ran.

Yet, thankfully, when Jordan’s attention turned back to her swollen and oh-so-sensitive clit, Lynda stopped thinking. Each delightful stroke of his tongue radiated pure fire that blazed through her, all the way to the tips of her toes.

She watched him again, getting caught up in the unrefined heat of sex. She said, “Yes, baby, lick me. Harder, harder.” And as his hands curled beneath her, cupping her ass, as he tilted and lifted her to his hungry mouth, she remembered he thought this was punishment, and heard herself saying, “Such a bad boy you are. Lick me, you bad boy. Lick me.” Damn, but it would have been a fine time to have a little riding crop in her hand, to flick his bare ass while he worked at her.

She pressed her palms to his head, held him to her pussy, moved against him, working toward the climax she suddenly needed so fucking bad.

Control.

That’s what Lynda liked in sex.

To feel control over her lover.

Or to have her lover feel control over
her
.

At this particular moment, she was the dominatrix, punishing her naughty boy, making him do her bidding, towering over him and forcing him to lick her until she came. God, yes. Just watching her hands, holding him there, at her mercy, made her pump against his mouth harder and harder…

Until the orgasm exploded through her like a fireball shooting through the night sky. She heard herself screaming, hot sobs of pleasure, as the climax racked her body with uncontrollable spasms.
Yes. Oh yes.

When Jordan raised his head, she yearned to tell him everything.
I just came so hard because you gave me the feeling I was controlling you, making you give me what I wanted. And I loved our fuck earlier in the alley because
I
gave
you
the control then, let myself be
taken
by you.

A psychologist, she feared, might well have a field day with such sexual needs. But Lynda didn’t care. She only knew what made her feel good. And she only wished she could share it all with Jordan without fear of his rebuff.

Moving up over her body, Jordan pushed his cock into her moisture, sinking deep. “Oh
yeah
,” she said on a deep moan. She’d always loved that glorious moment of entry, but with Jordan, it was even better.

He lowered a warm kiss to her mouth and she tasted herself on him.

“
Mmm
, I taste good,” she teased, smiling up at him as he began to thrust slow inside her welcoming
cunt
.

His dark eyes sparkled. “That’s hot as hell.”

So it turned him on that she liked the taste of her own pussy.
Oh, lover, if you only knew…
And just like earlier, in the alley, she couldn’t help thinking maybe there was hope for him yet.

“I love you, Lynda,” he said, his voice soft and deep.

She gulped. He’d never said it before. No one had—not since Charlie, and that had been in another lifetime.

She’d fantasized about this—fantasized that someone like Jordan might really fall in love with her. And she knew in that perfect moment that she loved him, too. Hell, she
had
to love the guy to be willing to deny herself the harder pleasures she was accustomed to, and to try to make herself into a new sort of person for him. “I love you, too, honey,” she said.

“Yeah?” he whispered. His soft, surprised grin was shockingly boyish and utterly endearing, and she wrapped her arms around his neck to pull him down for another hot kiss.

“A lot,” she whispered.

“Oh, precious,” he replied. “Me, too. Me, too.”

And then he increased his thrusts, taking them deeper, harder, making her sob with joy, and she drank it up, all the sweetness, all this fresh, new, amazing love. “I’m coming, baby,” he said then, his voice husky. “I’m coming!”

And in those pristine moments as he filled her with the evidence of this new love, she truly didn’t care about what the sex was or what it wasn’t. She only knew she was committed to this man now, completely, and that she would never let anything as trivial as a lack of leather—or an overabundance of lace—part them.

* * * * *

They lay in bed, cuddling after another long round of sex, and Lynda found herself feeling uncharacteristically girlish and dreamy. She’d been right—she did want the whole hearts-and-flowers, lifelong companion thing. Not that Jordan had mentioned anything that equated to “lifelong”, but “I love you” was as close as Lynda had come to such a thing in a very long time.

Jordan raked caressing fingertips across her bare stomach. “You know you can tell me anything—share anything with me—right?”

She looked up at him, wondering why he’d say such a thing. “Of course,” she lied. “Why?”

“Because…sometimes I feel like there’s something you’re not telling me, some part of you I can’t quite see. And I want us to be totally open with one another, precious, not have any secrets.”

This was her opening,
again
—no doubt about it.

But she couldn’t bear to risk marring the perfection she felt in this moment.

It was her own fault and she knew it, yet she was now officially
serious
about transforming into the sort of woman who didn’t need anything kinky to feel satisfied. She’d thought she was serious before, but love made a big difference on the satisfaction scale—it made up for a lot.

“You’ve got all of me, Jordan.” And she really meant it. Because the rest was getting tossed out the window, right this minute. Kink was
not
a necessary part of a relationship.

“You’re sure?” he asked, nuzzling closer. She still wore her yellow lace-and-chiffon negligee and had decided she was even starting to like it. After all, Jordan
loved
it—he kept telling her how pretty she looked in it. And even if it had kept her breasts feeling a little neglected, her pussy hadn’t suffered at all.
Trade-off, trade-off, trade-off
, she reminded herself. It was all a trade-off, and that was okay.