The Tao Of Sex (6 page)

“You listen here,” she said, her tone sharpening. “I’m alone in my own home, and I can do whatever I want!” She sat up and glared at her tousled, flushed face in the mirror. She knew she had completely lost it here, and yet she couldn’t stop herself. With a grunt of frustration, she slammed the phone shut and threw it across the room.

Almost before it landed, the ring tone rumbled through the room. Mr. Gaaaooow, again, she was sure. The low notes strummed her insides. She tried to ignore it, but she couldn’t. With another curse, she flounced across the room and flipped it open.

“—Tracy!”

“What?” She’d dropped to all fours on the floor to grab the phone, and her breasts swung with abandon. If she crouched a bit more, she could rub her nipples across the carpet. It was rough, not even remotely what she wanted, but it still felt good. Not great, but good.

“Tracy! You need to release some of your energy.”

She’d dreamed of his hands on her breasts. Big hands, hard hands. Pulling. Sucking. Twisting her nipples. Her fantasy took on a life of its own and she forgot that she was still holding the phone. She didn’t remember until one of her moans sparked a response from him.

“That’s good, Tracy. You need to fantasize something. Pretend I’m there. Pretend I’m biting you. Little nibbles along your neck and down to your breasts. I’m biting your nipples, Tracy. And I’m sucking them into my mouth. They’re stretching, Tracy. Pull on your nipples, feel the stretch, and then pinch. That’s my teeth biting you.”

For all that his words were just what she wanted to hear, his tone was more like a radio announcer giving the weather. She pulled the phone away from her ear intending to toss it aside, but she couldn’t quite make herself do it. She wanted to hear more. She wasn’t going to do what he said, but she wanted to hear.

She groaned, low and in the back of her throat. Then she looked down at herself and was startled to realize she was doing exactly what he said. She was fondling herself. Whenever she’d done this before it had been a sneaky movement, under her covers and with a great deal of guilt. But not this time. This time she felt free to touch herself openly.

She took a deep breath and widened her legs. Wow, did this feel good.

“Are you there, Tracy? Tracy?”

“It’s never felt right before,” she gasped as she touched her breast again. “It’s felt embarrassing. But now I’ve got this tingling and I can breathe and it feels great!”

“That’s your tigress. She’s awake now.” Then his voice dropped to a lower register. Not quite the sexy murmur she’d dreamed of, but very nice. Verrrrrrrrry nice indeed. “Touch yourself lower, Tracy.”

Her hand was already there, pushing into herself. Her legs were trembling, her hand was pinching and pushing, but it wasn’t what she wanted. “It feels so empty,” she gasped. Then her body started convulsing. Orgasmic contractions rippled through her. They went on and on, and it felt good—but also blank. She had no other word for it. Blank contractions like a muscle spasm or a repetitive sneeze. A release but unsatisfying at the same time.

Without understanding why, she curled on her side and began to cry. Tiny sobs intertwined with orgasmic gasps. “I’ve gone insane,” she whimpered. “I’m completely insane.”

“No, you’re not,” Mr. Gao said through the phone. His voice was soothing, stroking a part of her deep inside. “You’re not insane. That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you. You’ve just been awakened and that’s a scary, confusing thing.”

“It’s wonderful,” she sobbed, not even knowing why she cried. “I can breathe.”

“I’m almost there, Tracy. Open the door for me, okay? I’m almost to your house. I got your address from Mrs. Ludlow in 1B. We’ll talk. I’ll explain.”

The lust was cooling, allowing room for rational thought. She was curled naked on the floor after having brought herself to orgasm while on the phone. On the phone! What had she done?

“Tracy? Can you unlock the door for me?”

She closed her eyes, humiliation washing through her. “No,” she whispered. “No, I can’t.” Then she turned off her cell.

5

“TRACY? IT’S NATHAN GAO. Don’t be afraid.”

Her favorite fleece blanket settled across her body. She was still curled on her floor, her mind resolutely blanked to everything that was happening. Except the blanket did feel very nice. She had been a little cold.

“I’m going to pick you up now. You’ll be more comfortable on the bed.”

She frowned into the crook of her elbow. She was an independent woman. She could get up all by herself. Except his hands felt wonderful as they gently worked themselves under her thighs and shoulders, then lifted her off the floor. Without intending to, she snuggled against his shoulder, hiding her face as she smelled his wonderful scent. Spice, ginger and something else bypassed her brain and settled deep into her womb. What was it? A musk that was all male and made the back of her throat purr. She burrowed deeper against him, appreciating the hard ridges of his pectorals at her face and the full bulge of his biceps beneath her thighs.

But then he set her down. He was excruciatingly gentle as he lay her head on her pillow. She didn’t want to let him go, but her hands were tangled in her blanket and she couldn’t reach him fast enough.

“I’m going downstairs,” he said. “I’ve brought some tea that will help cool your yin. Then we can talk.”

“How did you get in the house?” That wasn’t at all what she wanted to ask. She was thinking other things entirely—like how could she possibly be embarrassed about the situation while simultaneously wanting to throw off the blanket and jump him? It was a simmering-in-the-background kind of urge, but she felt it nonetheless.

“I ran here,” he answered. “And then I…uh…I picked the lock.” His skin darkened to a dusky red, but his eyes were unapologetic. “I was afraid for you.”

“What’s happening to me?” Her voice came out surprisingly steady given that she really wasn’t sure she wanted to know the answer.

He ran a distracted hand through his hair, standing it up in spiky points. “I woke your inner tigress. Some people call it your kundalini.”

She blinked, forcing her mind to focus on his words, not just the movement of his lips and how they would feel against her skin. “I, uh…I think you better go make that tea. I’ll get dressed and meet you downstairs.”

He nodded, his shoulders dropping an inch with the movement. “Good. That’s good. We’ll—”

“Talk. Yes, I think that would be very good. Talk.” Away from her bed. With clothing on. “Coffee. Strong, hot coffee.”

“You will like my tea better,” he said, and then he was gone. But not before she saw that he wore a different pair of teaching pants, these made of faded black cotton that outlined his muscular bottom and could be undone with a single yank on the tie. Yup, the horny fireflies were still zipping around her system, giving her thoughts that made her blush.

She frowned as she watched him leave. She’d never had thoughts like this before. Fantasies—yes. Vivid pretense—yes. But a powerful urge to have a man—this particular man—thick and hard inside her? Never. A wetness inside and out that made her so needy she wanted to jump out of her skin? Not once.

Tracy made a concerted effort to tamp down these bizarre urges as she extricated herself from bed. Then she grabbed her most asexual clothing—loose sweatpants and an even looser T-shirt—and headed downstairs. She made it into her kitchen just as the whistle began to blow on the teakettle. She watched him from the doorway, seeing his hand—large, long fingers wrapping firmly about the dark handle—lift the kettle and pour steaming water into two mugs. The steam rose, wrapping about his face just as he looked up.

Dark eyes pierced her straight through. It was a physical connection that pulled her straight into the kitchen, to his side and then into his arms. She was raising her lips to his mouth long before her mind thought to object.

She felt his hand wrap around her back, and those long fingers slipped underneath her T-shirt to fire across her back. She shivered in delight and lifted up on her toes. Her lips tingled; her belly tightened. He was so close, she could see the way his eyes darkened with hunger. He wanted her; she knew it. And yet just before their lips touched, he drew away and pressed a steaming mug of tea to her mouth.

“Drink,” he ordered.

“No—” He tilted the mug and she had to sip or let it spill down her front. She pulled away as soon as she could. “I don’t want tea.” She wanted him. But he was holding her firmly away.

“Drink,” he ordered again.

She did, not because she wanted to but because there was such strength in his tone. He had the most manly voice she’d ever heard. So she wrapped her hands around his on the mug and sipped. She kept her touch seductive—a caress that slowly enveloped. She savored the hard bones of his hand and the smooth expanse of skin over long tendons. His every knuckle pressed into her palm while she held his gaze, seeing the dark pupils of his eyes expand. She pursed her lips again, this time making every sip a seduction.

Beneath her fingers, his hand trembled. She felt more than heard the groan that rumbled through his body. “You must try to control yourself. Your tigress is very strong, but your mind is stronger.”

She didn’t want to hear him. She was close enough to smell his scent. He had run over here, but his sweat wasn’t rank. It was a clean kind of smell. Exotic. Like spiced cucumber. She closed her eyes to better appreciate it. Instead, she heard his ragged inhale as he stepped backward, gently withdrawing his touch from her.

Tracy shifted, releasing him while keeping hold of the mug. She sipped again, noticing for the first time that the brew was spicy. Not sweet. She liked sweet. “This tastes like…” She abruptly sneezed. “Peppered, dirty water.” She took another sip, then another, beginning to like the bite against the back of her throat. She tasted ginseng and…“Is there pepper in this?”

“Cayenne.”

She took another deep drink as she shifted to sit at the kitchen table. “It’s good in a weird kind of way. What exactly is it?”

He joined her at the table, folding himself precisely into the chair. She met his eyes across the rim of her mug, seeing both apology and fear in his expression. Anxiety trembled across her spine, and she slowly set down her empty mug.

“What?”

“Your female energy has been awakened,” he said clearly. “It is flooding your body, giving you thoughts and feelings you—”

“Horny lightning,” she said, speaking more to herself than to him. “The tingles. The thoughts. That’s my female energy?” She didn’t want to believe him, but what he said explained the events of the last hour. Had she been on the floor? “Is there more tea?”

He nodded, crossing efficiently to his worn attaché case that she now noticed leaning against her cabinets. He drew out a metal cylinder with one hand while grabbing the kettle with the other. Within moments, he was dropping a fine powder mixed with thin dried leaves into her mug. The steam from the kettle curled about the hard angles of his face while he poured, and she felt her belly quiver at the sight.

This wasn’t good. She shouldn’t be thinking of steam baths, hot sprays, naked pulsating flesh. “I’ve never been like this.” To distract herself, she grabbed the tea container, reading the label with all the focus she could muster. “Advanced Men’s Virility Formula? You’re giving me Chinese Viagra?”

“You have too much yin,” he answered calmly as he tried to pull the tin out of her hand.

She shifted it out of his reach, turning to read the list of ingredients. “Oh, my—” She choked off her next word. “Do you know what the primary ingredient is?”

“You need more yang to balance out your yin—”

“Horny goat weed.”

“Yang is male energy. It will balance your energies. Too much yin requires more yang to stabilize—”

“Look right here.” She pointed to the list. “Horny goat weed!”

He lifted it out of her hand. “And it is making you feel better.” He pushed her full mug at her. “So drink.”

She stared at him, trying to hold on to her righteous indignation. She couldn’t. She did feel thirsty. She lifted the mug and inhaled the steam. “I can’t believe I’m drinking this stuff.”

He set the tin back on the table. “Keep it. Drink as much of it as you want.”

“I can’t keep that stuff here! What if my brother sees it?”

He held her gaze. “What if your brother sees you as you were an hour ago?”

Her face heated. Had she really purred his name?

His hand circled hers on the table—large, enveloping and so strong. “Don’t be embarrassed. Understand what is happening.”

“This will wear off, right? I mean, it’ll go away.”

“Do you really want it to?”

“Yes!” Panic was making her chest tighten. She looked down and noticed that she’d flipped her hand over and was now gripping his. There was a tingle where their palms met, a flow of heat and serenity that whispered up her wrist into her arm. “What are you doing?” she cried. She wanted to leap away, but it felt too good.

“You need more yang to balance the yin,” he answered. “I am giving you mine. Or what little is left of it.”

“Your what?”

“My male power. I am giving you mine. Don’t you feel how it makes you more balanced?”