Frenched Series Bundle (60 page)

He dipped a fingertip inside me, then slowly rubbed silky wetness over the hot little button, which tingled and swelled at his touch.

“You don’t want my cock inside you.” His fingers slid down to my center and plunged slowly inside, leaving me breathless.

He pulled them out and pushed them in again, even deeper this time. Flattening the heel of his hand against my pussy, he rubbed my clit as his fingertips awakened parts of me I never even knew existed. Parts that hummed and ached and tightened like a vise.

“You don’t want me to make you come. Don’t let me.”

Oh fuck, was he serious? Was this part of the game? I had no idea what to do—it wasn’t like I could move away or stop him from touching me. He had me immobilized, his hands controlling every part of me except my mind, and Christ, he had that pretty well dominated too. I’d never felt so powerless over my own sexual responses. And if he didn’t want me to come, why was he touching me this way, making me squirm and writhe and tremble beneath him?

“Tell me not to make you come.”

“Don’t make me come.” My voice was high-pitched and laced with frustration.

“Louder,” he demanded, rubbing me harder, fucking me deeper with his fingers, pushing his hard cock into my ass.

“Don’t make me come!” I cried, even as my legs began to go numb with pleasure and the tension at my core coiled tighter and tighter before exploding in a series of rhythmic contractions that had me clenching around his fingers so hard I thought I might break them.

Before I could feel my feet on the floor again, the power flicked on.

“Oh!” The sudden blast of light shocked me. I’d forgotten every light was on. Charlie pulled his hand from my pants and released his hold, stepping back as if we’d been caught doing something naughty in the closet at school.

For a moment I stayed where I was, cheek on the marble, frozen.

What the hell had just happened?

Slowly I pushed myself up and turned around, breathing hard through my mouth.

Charlie was back against the counter again, looking, for the first time, a little unsure of himself.

“Well.” I sucked my lips between my teeth. “That was…unexpected.”

“Yeah. It was.”

But now it was awkward. So awkward. What should I do? Thank him? Offer to return the favor? Ask if he was still in the mood? I looked at his crotch, and the outline of his erection strained impressively through his jeans.

Oh dear, he saw me. He saw me looking at his dick. Now what?

He cleared his throat. “Well, I should go.”

“No! I mean, don’t go yet. Um, are you…” I swallowed. “Horny? I mean, hungry?” I squeezed my eyes shut for a second.
Dammit, focus!

“Hungry?”

“Yes, I could make you a sandwich or something.” For a moment, I had this insane little fantasy of Charlie and I eating sandwiches, then cuddling up on my couch to watch a movie.

Then maybe he’d tell me not to let him fuck me.

And I would not let him fuck me. I would not let him fuck me
so hard
…

“No, that’s OK. I should get going.”

“Oh.” I was disappointed, and yet also relieved. This was ridiculous—Charlie Dwyer was not boyfriend material. I didn’t even like him.

Much.

Spying his keys on the counter near the door, he walked over and scooped them up with the same hand that had been down my pants not five minutes ago. Holy crap. Had that really happened? It didn’t seem real now.

Charlie saw me staring at his fingers. “Listen, Erin…I’m sorry about—what just happened.”

I blinked at him. He was apologizing for getting me off? Oh God, now this was even more awkward.

“I got a little out of control, a little demanding. Sometimes I—sometimes that happens when I’m…really turned on.”

“You were really turned on?”

The slow, sexy smile overtook his mouth. If my panties hadn’t already melted, they’d be melting now. “Yes. Believe it or not, you really turned me on.”

I crossed my arms. Only Charlie could take me from aroused to annoyed in five seconds flat. “What does that mean,
‘Believe it or not’?
Why wouldn’t I turn you on? Because I’m too sweet to be sexy?”

He laughed. He
laughed
at me. “Red, you’re not that sweet.” While I fumed, he opened the door and walked halfway through it before turning around again. “Thanks for the beer. Don’t forget to lock your door in case I change my mind about…that sandwich.”

I bared my teeth. “Get the hell out, Charlie Dwyer. And don’t come back.”

Laughing, he ducked all the way out the door and disappeared into the driving rain.

In a daze, I sank into a chair at the island, staring at the spot where he’d been so rough with me, treating me like a little doll at his whim. What would have happened if the power hadn’t come back on? I shivered. Would he have fucked me right there on the counter? On the floor? Would we have made it to my bedroom?

He’d apologized for getting demanding, out of control. But actually,
I
was the one without control. He’d had it all. And yet, he’d given me exactly what I secretly wanted. How had he known what I wanted?

Fucking Charlie Dwyer had the
spark
.

How infuriating.

I didn’t see or hear from Charlie for almost a month. Was I disappointed? Maybe. But it wasn’t like I didn’t have his number. He’d left it for me on his card, which I’d stuck in my nightstand drawer in case I heard anything go bump in the night. But nothing (and nobody) was bumping in the night at my house, and I couldn’t really think of another reason to contact him, at least not one that preserved my dignity.

He’d given me the most intense orgasm of my entire life with one hand and a dirty mouth. The more I thought about that episode—Confession: I thought about it A LOT—the more insane it seemed. One minute we were arguing about pulp over a couple of beers, the next minute he had me bent over the kitchen counter, gasping in pain and pleasure, following his every command. It was frightening. It was fascinating. It was phenomenal.

But I couldn’t bring myself to call him.

For one thing, I was too busy giving the studio a makeover. Mia and Coco helped me paint the studio lobby and both of the dance rooms; Lucas bolted the barres to the walls more securely and reconfigured the lobby to add more seating, and Nick brought in a builder friend who helped him repair the leak in the ceiling. To thank them, I spent two weekends painting bedrooms at Nick and Coco’s new house, and filled in as hostess at Lucas’s bar, The Green Hour, when he was short-staffed a few times and Mia wasn’t feeling well. With the physical improvements at the studio underway, I felt much more confident dealing with difficult parents. I felt like they could see I was serious about keeping my promises and running the business better. I also stopped taking their calls on my cell phone. My stress level decreased a ton.

Another reason I didn’t call Charlie was that I didn’t see the point in pursuing something with him when there was no long-term potential. At my house that night, he made it clear he preferred his “relationships” with women to be like the action films he enjoyed—intense, thrilling, and finished in about three hours. I wasn’t necessarily looking for an engagement ring, but casual sex with a playboy wasn’t my thing, either, so I kept my distance.

And so did he.

Until the Wednesday before Thanksgiving, when he showed up at my social dance class.

With a date.

I saw her first—a tall, willowy blonde with narrow hips, big breasts, and long legs. She didn’t look familiar, so I walked over to introduce myself, and stumbled over my own feet when I saw who she was with.

“Whoa.” Charlie grabbed my arm so I didn’t go down completely. “And you’re the teacher? I want my twenty bucks back.”

“Charlie. What a surprise.” I recovered, but my nerves still jittered as if I couldn’t get my balance. He was dressed in gray pants and a fitted black button down that showed off his lean muscularity, but it was his hands I couldn’t stop looking at. And his mouth. I kept replaying those few seconds when he’d pulled, turned, kicked, bent me over, and pinned me before I even realized what was happening. I kept hearing that low, calm voice as it told me what to say. I kept feeling those strong fingers slide between my legs.

Confession: I have no idea what dance steps I taught that night. Not a clue.

Here’s what I do remember:

Her name was Krista. “With a K.”

She was a terrible dancer.

Charlie wasn’t lying about his rhythm.

I know this because Krista with a K raised her hand at one point and asked for help. Willing my knees not to wobble, I walked over to them.

“He’s doing it wrong,” she complained, her glossy nude lips in a pout.

“I don’t think so.” Charlie turned her beneath his arm correctly. “I think you’re trying to go the wrong way.”

“Let me watch,” I said, smiling at Krista. She’d been giving me the stink eye all night, probably because when Charlie introduced us, he’d called
her
his friend, but he referred to
me
as the sweet little thing who broke his heart when we were kids. A ridiculous lie, which I’d quickly cleared up, but I could tell she viewed me as her competition.

They executed the move again, and sure enough, Krista tried to turn the wrong way, and furthermore, she did it on the wrong beat and didn’t wait for him to lead it.

“OK. Well, first, you have to let him lead you—no turning on your own. Remember, on the actual dance floor, you’d have no idea what was coming. So the woman has to just keep the basic pattern with her feet and follow his lead. If he’s doing it right, you should feel that gentle pressure.”

Charlie burst out laughing. “If I’m doing it right, you’ll feel more than gentle pressure.”

I glared at him. “Hush, you. Try it again, Krista.”

“Let me try it with
you
,” Charlie said.

“With me?”
Pull. Turn. Kick. Bend. Pin.
My belly hollowed with a whoosh. “Uh, OK.”

Krista looked less than pleased so I tried to keep my expression neutral and my proximity to his body teacher-student appropriate. It took monumental effort, though, because as soon as we got into a closed position, I could smell him. I hadn’t even realized Charlie had a smell that night in my kitchen, but when he looped an arm around my back and pulled me toward him, the memory of his body taking control of mine hit me like a freight train. It’s a good thing he was a decent dancer, because I did nothing but move where he put me and inhale his scent. It wasn’t even cologne or soap or anything—it was just his skin.
God, I wish I could bottle and sell it. I’d call it Autumn Orgasm. I’d make a fortune.

“Well? How did I do?” Charlie looked at me expectantly.

“Um, great. Perfect.”
I nearly came.
I let go of him and took a step back. “Just relax and let him lead you,” I said to Krista. “You’re doing fine.”

“You going out tonight?” he asked me.

“Me? No. I have to work here tonight.”

“I thought the class ended at nine.”

“It does, but I’m staying late to finish ripping out the old floor downstairs. It’s warped. We started today but didn’t finish, and the guys are coming to lay the new sub floor on Friday so I can put a new dance surface on top of it over the holiday weekend. I’ll probably have to work tomorrow too.” I was talking too fast, saying too much. Krista yawned.

“On Thanksgiving?”

I shrugged. “Have to do it when the students aren’t here.”

“Do you need help?”

“Charlie, I thought we were going to dinner at Ottava Via after this. You promised if I came here, you’d take me there.” Krista pouted prettily.

“Relax. I will.” Charlie looked at me. “I could help you tomorrow, if you want.”

“No, that’s all right. Enjoy Ottava Via. I love that place.”

“Me too.” He gave me The Smile. “What do you know, something to add to the list. Right after beer.”

I had to smile back, and something fluttered in my stomach that scared me like crazy.

Because it wasn’t sexual. It was genuine affection.

Oh dear. Oh dear. No, no, no.
My brain sounded a red alert, telling me to flee before my emotions got away from me. But my feet felt weighted to the ground next to him, even as my heart threatened to balloon up out of my body.

Thankfully, someone else called my name for help right then, and I turned away from them. I taught the rest of lesson in a blur, thankful it was a crowded night and a lot of other couples wanted my attention. Staying busy kept me from staring at Charlie and Krista, wondering if he was banging her already or if he’d take her home and bang her for the first time tonight. Would I cross his mind while they were doing it?

Then I got angry. What the hell was he doing bringing a date to my dance class? Why show up at all, unless it was to see me again? And if he did want to see me again, why not just ask me for coffee like last time? Then again, maybe he didn’t care about seeing me. Maybe he just wanted to bring Krista with a K to a dance class.

God knows she needed it.

After the lesson, I left the music on for open dancing and circulated throughout, helping the men with two left feet and the women who loved them get more comfortable being on the dance floor. “Remember,” I said to one overzealous twenty-something with a bow tie, suspenders, and a bad habit of doing what I call the Mixmaster with his partner’s arm while she was trying to turn. “You don’t need to be fancy. Just lift that arm, lead gently with the hand on her back, and she’ll follow.”

Charlie and Krista must have slipped out during the open dancing portion of the night, because at one point I glanced over to where they’d been standing, and noticed they were gone. I exhaled, feeling both relief and disappointment.
Oh well, I guess that’s that.

After the last student had left, I sent my assistant home and locked myself in. The new vinyl flooring for the downstairs room had finally arrived—paid for by a loan from dear old dad as an early Christmas gift—and this weekend was the perfect chance for me to get it down. But first I had to tear out the old wood. Nick and Lucas had started the process for me earlier today, and although they’d implored me to wait until they could come back to help, I wanted to get it done. They could help me lay the new plywood subfloor on Friday or Saturday, and I’d also need help unpacking the huge, heavy vinyl rolls.

I changed from my skirt, blouse, and heels into a tank top, leggings, and sneakers, piled my hair on top of my head, and pulled on the work gloves Nick had left for me.

Two hours later, I collapsed in a heap, leaning back against the wall. Maybe the guys had been right and I should have waited for them. Rusty nails littered the ground, the dust was enough to choke an army, and my arms were sore from breaking and yanking out the old oak 2 x 4’s. Tired and thirsty, I considered calling it a night and coming back in the morning, even though I was only about half done. But then I remembered I was scheduled to serve at the soup kitchen tomorrow before two o’clock dinner at my mother’s. I’d have to come back tomorrow night. Groaning, I’d gotten to my feet, planning to attack a few more boards when I heard pounding on the studio’s front door.

Immediately my heart jumped into my throat. Who the hell was here so late at night? I glanced at the clock over the stereo—it was after eleven. The studio was located in a strip mall of stores that were closed already, and I’d turned out the lights in the front. No one knew I was here except—

Bang bang bang!

I picked up my phone and a solid 2 x 4 before slipping into the dark hallway and tiptoeing up to the front. The door was glass, so as soon as I got close, I’d be able to see who it was if I turned on the light above the entrance. Hunching over so whoever it was wouldn’t see me first, I got behind the desk and flipped the switch. Then I peeked.

Charlie.

Heart thudding in relief and surprise, I moved around the desk, unlocked the door and opened it. Cold, wintry air rushed in with him, and the smell of Autumn Orgasm smote me once more. “Hey. What are you doing here?”

“I came to help.” He held up a white bag in one hand and a six pack of beer in the other. “And I brought you something.”

“From Ottava Via?”

“No, from a little Irish pub I like near there. Ottava Via was really crowded, and I didn’t feel like waiting around with Krista.”

My feet itched to do a little happy dance. “Did you tell her that?”

“No. I told her I was tired, and then she ran into friends on their way to The Sugar House, so she decided to hang with them tonight.”

“You
lied
to your date? Officer Dwyer, I’m appalled at this misconduct.”

He shrugged. “She bugs me. And I kept thinking about you here alone, working. Didn’t sit right with me, with all that’s been going on.”

“So you wanted to make sure I was safe?”

“I guess so. Yeah.”

“How nice of you.”

“I know.” He shook his head in disbelief. “What’s with that?”

I slugged him gently on the shoulder with my 2 x 4. “So what did you bring me? I’m hungry.”

“Burger and fries. Some Irish stout.”

“You’re speaking my language, Officer Dwyer. We can add burgers to the list.”

He handed me the food and beer. “Let me go grab some tools from my car so I can help you. Be right back.”