Pleasure for Pleasure (5 page)

If she were so inclined. Which she wasn't. No, she wasn't desperate enough to develop a foot fetish.

Not yet anyway.

Trent cleared his throat, and Josie sat up, a little embarrassed that she'd been ogling his feet.

“Do you want to do it right here on the couch, or in the bedroom?” he asked.

“Where would you normally bring a woman?”

“Depends on what the night calls for. Sometimes things heat up so fast we don't even make it into the house, other times we make it to the floor inside the front door, or on the couch, or the table, or the bathroom, or the bed—”

“I get the picture.” This situation had the distinct disadvantage of requiring her to discuss with Trent his having sex with other women.

“With you, I know from experience things can heat up fast,” he said.

And fizzle out just as quickly? No, let's don't start talking about the past.
Nothing would ruin Josie's chances of getting laid faster than them getting into a debate about her ditching him at Ocean Beach.

“How about you take me through your standard sexual encounter, step by step?”

“Don't you think that'll kill any chance it has of being hot, if I'm talking the whole time?”

“Hmm, good point. How about you make it sexy talk? Could you do that?”

Trent grinned. “I think I can manage.”

“Okay, start with this scenario. You and I have just returned from dinner. We've known each other for a couple of weeks, and this is our second date. The first one went well, but I wasn't interested in anything more than a kiss at the door. Tonight, you've invited me up to your place for drinks, and I've been receptive, leading you to believe that we'll have sex.”

“You wouldn't be playing the tease, would you?”

“Of course not.” Josie shifted her gaze to the wall, wishing he hadn't brought that up. She deserved the
label he'd given her, but tonight that was going to change.

It had to change before she went cross-eyed and started growing hair on her palms. Or was that only supposed to happen to guys?

“Then, I'd have to move a little closer to you on the couch, like this.” He scooted over until his hip pressed against hers, and the closeness sent a little jolt to her groin.

“Okay, what next?”

“Guess I'd have to ask you if you're thirsty, since I did invite you up for drinks.”

She looked at him from the corner of her eye. “I was hoping you'd used drinks as an excuse to get me here and have your way with me.”

“Do I look like that kind of guy?”

“Absolutely.”

“In that case, I'll have to take things nice and slow. Show you what a gentleman I really am.”

No, no. Please not nice and slow.
She flashed what she hoped was a wicked smile. “I'm not interested in gentlemen.”

“No?” He looked stumped.

Josie took that opportunity to pounce. Literally. She turned and sat herself down right on top of his lap, straddling him, with her dress pushed up her thighs farther than she'd anticipated. An inch higher and he'd be able to tell what color panties she was wearing.

“I thought
I
was leading here.”

“Since this is our hypothetical date, I figured it wouldn't hurt for me to throw you a hypothetical curve ball,” Josie said.

She shifted her weight forward a bit, and suddenly there was friction between her legs from him. He was
pressed against her, so close. His own body was responding, too, she could tell by the growing hardness she felt beneath his jeans. Her insides began to overheat, then melt.

But then that old familiar feeling of dread filled her abdomen, and sweat broke out on her upper lip. She froze, suddenly unsure if she could really go through with what she'd started.

He nodded at her position on his lap. “This isn't hypothetical.”

“Oh, right. But you can still show me what you'd do next.”

“I guess I'd have to slide my hand up your dress, to see if the rest of you feels as fine as your thigh does.”

Josie looked down and saw that his left hand was indeed resting on her thigh. He slowly slid it upward, turning her skin to gooseflesh, until it disappeared under her dress. He paused at her hip and his fingers dipped under the edge of her panties. Oh, so close. Then he stopped, and Josie thought she might scream.

The muscles in her legs twitched, itching to flee.

“This is all wrong,” he said.

“What?”

“This. You and me. We can't just hop into bed for our first lesson.”

“I
am
supposed to be teaching you how to improve your sex life, right?” And teach she would, if he'd just move his hand a little to the right.

“Not like this.” His hand started to move in the wrong direction, back down her thigh.

“Think of it as an assessment. I can't teach you unless I know your current skill level.”

Trent shook his head. “Let's do this right, take it slow.”

No, he couldn't be saying what she thought he was saying. She was so close, so ready, so desperate to end this dry spell. And she didn't intend her next orgasm to be alone in the shower. It was going to be with Trent, and it was going to be tonight—or was it? The urge to run again was so strong, almost as strong as the urge to get it on. The two forces were battling in her gut, and now with Trent providing such an easy out, her cowardly side was gaining strength.

Could she stay and do the wild thing, or would she just run away again? Josie closed her eyes. When she opened them and caught the way Trent had been watching her when he'd thought she wasn't looking, she knew exactly what she had to do.

T
RENT WISHED
like hell he hadn't chosen to wear jeans tonight, and especially not such a snug-fitting pair. He had a hard-on that was threatening to burst his zipper, and the lack of room for it was proving damned uncomfortable.

He had to get Josie off his lap. Otherwise his plan would be shot. He'd toss it aside in favor of ripping off her dress and making love to her right there on the living room rug. The look of determination in her eyes was downright hypnotic.

And then he felt his zipper slide down.

“Hold it right there,” he said as steadily as he could.

“That's exactly what I intend to do,” she whispered with a little smile.

“I mean, stop. We're not doing this. I don't even have protection,” he lied.

“No problem. There's a box of condoms in my bag.”

Damn modern women.

Trent grasped Josie by the waist and lifted her off his lap, then stood and zipped up his jeans. Sweat trickled down the back of his neck. Josie stared up at him, her coffee-brown eyes round and wide.

This wasn't exactly the temptation game he'd had in mind for tonight. He needed a few minutes to cool off, to regain control.

Josie flashed a wicked smile, then stood up next to
him. Her left hand slipped behind her back. Before Trent realized what she was doing, she shrugged the dress off her shoulders and it slid to the floor, forming a puddle at her feet.

But it wasn't her feet he noticed right now. Oh, no. This woman had the power to defeat Superman. Her breasts sat perched in a frilly white push-up bra, the smooth upper halves exposed. It was an offer so tempting he could hardly refuse. And below that a silken stretch of belly led down to a matching pair of white lace panties that allowed a hint of color to show through.

Her hips, the firmly rounded kind found in center-folds, led to a pair of legs he desperately wanted wrapped around him.

Trent clenched his jaw tight, channeling Superman's strength. He wouldn't be defeated.

He just needed to stay focused on his reason for wanting revenge. He needed to remember Ocean Beach….

Before she'd driven off with his underwear, Trent had been thinking maybe Josie was a woman he could settle down with for a few years, have a real relationship with. But those feelings had disappeared the moment she proved she was incapable of having a serious sexual encounter with a man.

“I've got to tell you, you're not exactly acing your test right now,” Josie said.

Her gaze remained locked on him as she reached behind her back again and her bra suddenly snapped loose. Next she eased one bra strap, then the other, off her shoulders. When she dropped her arms, the bra fell to the floor on top of her dress.

The sweat spread to his forehead, his upper lip. Damn, it was getting hot in this apartment.

What ever happened to Josie the Tease?

“Your examination methods are questionable at best.”

She shrugged, standing almost completely naked in front of him, trying to look undaunted. The hint of color in her cheeks revealed otherwise.

“Challenging students call for unconventional teaching methods,” she said almost too casually.

He had to do something, quick.

“It's hot in here, don't you think?” Trent turned and went to the kitchen. Opened the freezer and removed a tray of ice. Cracked it into an empty bowl.

“I'm fine,” she said, following him.

He was hyperaware of her every move, and it took all his willpower not to turn and watch how her nearly naked body moved as she walked.

“You sure? You were just looking a little flushed.”

What he wanted was to dump the bowl of ice into his boxers, but now was his chance to demonstrate to himself that his self-control was intact. She stood only inches away from him, leaning against the counter.

Josie eyed the bowl of ice. “What are you going to do with that?”

“I'm burning up, and I thought you might be interested in seeing what I can do with an ice cube.” He grabbed her wrist before she could slip away, then pinned her against the kitchen counter with his hips.

If she wanted to play games, he was more than willing to play along.

“Oh,” she said.

He took a cube from the bowl and licked it, then lowered the ice to her left nipple. On contact her nipple
hardened and she gasped softly. He traced one edge of it up the slope of her chest, then along her collarbone to the other side, and down that breast to the other erect nipple.

“Cool enough to put your clothes back on yet?”

Josie closed her eyes and let her head fall back, arching her breast toward him. “No, I'm feeling fine,” she whispered. He could feel his self-control slipping. The tension strained him until his hand shook.

He stepped back and let the ice cube travel lower, along her rib cage, then down the center of her belly to her navel, where he traced a wet circle. She contracted her stomach muscles against the cold, but still she stood her ground, seeming to enjoy his torture.

It was getting even hotter in this cramped little kitchen. Even with the windows open to the night air, Trent could feel his shirt growing damp from perspiration. Maybe he was starting to drive her crazy, too, though. Her breathing had gotten shallow, and she kept arching her breasts ever so slightly toward him.

What he would have given to take each round breast into his mouth. Instead, he slid his hand with the ice cube over her panties, down between her legs, where he settled it into that hottest part of her.

Josie gasped, but she must not have been turned off by the cold, because instead of flinching away she pushed herself up onto the counter. Her lush rear end rested on the cold granite, and she spread her legs wide. It was the most tempting invitation he'd ever received.

Sweet heaven.

Trent closed his eyes, steeling himself. He was turning her on as planned, and he couldn't blow it now.

He applied pressure between her legs with the ice cube, then began a slow, circular rhythm, letting it com
bine with the friction of her panties against her most sensitive spot.

She expelled a ragged moan. “Your score's getting higher by the minute.”

The ice cube was quickly melting away to nothing against her heat. Trent grabbed another from the bowl to replace the melting one in his hand. He dared to let his other hand travel up Josie's belly to the curve of her breast. He applied a soft pressure to her nipple, and she moaned again.

Trent groaned inwardly. Damn. Damn, damn, damn. This was a lot harder than he'd imagined. But Josie was nearing climax fast. His torture was almost over.

He quickened the friction between her legs, gave her a bit more pressure, until she'd climbed just to the edge. He could tell by her quickened breathing, the tenseness of her body, that she was about to come.

She was on the brink. And that's when he stopped. Summoning all his strength, he stepped away from her, then took the half-melted ice cube and rubbed it on the back of his neck, cooling himself hardly at all.

“W-what are you doing?”

He produced his most contrite, pained expression, then raked a hand through his hair for effect. “This is all wrong. We shouldn't be getting carried away so fast. I'm sorry.”

She expelled a sound halfway between a growl and a screech. “You can't be serious.”

“I just want to do this right.”

He willed himself not to look at her small brown nipples, still contracted to hard points. But instead his gaze fell on the little wisps of hair around her face, and it took all his remaining willpower not to reach out and
tuck those wild strands behind her ear, then kiss away her frustration.

“I appreciate your concern about taking things too fast,” she said as if she were talking to an unreasonable two-year-old.

“I'm glad you understand.”

“But I thought you agreed to let me lead these lessons whatever way I see fit.”

“I will, I will. I just wasn't prepared for us to hop right into bed. Or onto the counter.”

“You're the one who asked for
sex
lessons,” she said as she stalked back into the living room, her lovely ass in full view.

“I just thought we'd be going over the rest of that questionnaire tonight. I was looking forward to your answers.”

She tried to hide her annoyance behind a thin smile. He watched, fascinated, as she went through the motions of putting her bra back on, then her dress.

“Fine,” she said when she was dressed again. “I can't wait to see the rest of your answers.”

Trent plucked the sheet of paper off of the coffee table, and peered at it as if he didn't remember where they'd left off. “Let's see, looks like we stopped…um, right about here. Yeah, you were just about to describe to me
your
favorite sexual fantasy.”

Josie stared at the questionnaire, looking as if she hoped it would spontaneously combust. Her gaze crept up to meet his and she smiled as if she'd just swallowed something foul and wanted to prove she'd enjoyed it.

She sat at one end of the sofa and tucked her legs and feet up underneath her dress. “My favorite sexual fantasy…”

Trent sat one cushion away and propped his feet up
on the coffee table. He couldn't wait to hear this one. “I'm listening.”

“Well, this is easy for me. My favorite fantasy is me making love to Brad Pitt.” She smiled.

“No fair. That's not a fantasy. That's just naming a celebrity you lust after.”

Josie shrugged. “What can I say? I don't have a very active imagination.”

Trent frowned. “You mean, you've never once fantasized about slathering me with whipped cream and licking me from head to toe?”

She turned her gaze heavenward. “I'll never tell.”

“You have no idea how far you might get with a little dirty talk.”

She looked him up and down, perhaps weighing the truth of his statement. “I think I can imagine, based on what just happened in the kitchen.”

“Come on, tempt me.”

Josie drew her lower lip between her teeth, still watching him. “Okay, but just remember that old saying, be careful what you ask for…”

She couldn't make him any more frustrated than he already was. Could she?
Superman, think Superman.

Trent stretched out full-length and put his hands behind his head, mentally prepared to leap over tall buildings in a single bound.

“I'm alone in my office, working late at night,” she began. “I look out the window, and I see a lone man in the building across from me. He's in his apartment, wearing nothing but a pair of jeans, and he's leaning against the window, cooling himself in the night air, and watching me.”

She paused.

“What next?”

“Are you sure you want to hear this?”

“Absolutely positive.”

“Our eyes meet and there's this connection. I start undressing, slowly, making a show of it.”

“Who is this guy? Someone you know?”

She chewed her lip for a moment. “We pass on the street. Say hi at the newsstand. Maybe see each other in the grocery store or the deli.”

Interesting. If she was making all this up for Trent's benefit, she was doing a damned good acting job. But he'd bet money this was the real deal, one of her most secret fantasies.

“I undress down to my bra and panties, and I'm so turned on, I start touching myself. I touch my breasts, between my legs…”

“What does the guy do?”

“I have my eyes closed for a while, and then I hear a knock at the door. I know it's him, but I say nothing, and he comes in.”

“You're still touching yourself?”

“I stop when he knocks on the door. I'm sitting on top of my desk, waiting for him. He comes in and, without saying a word to each other, we make love there on the desk.”

“What happens after? Do you ever speak to him?” Trent asked, aware that his own voice sounded slightly strained.

He couldn't help imagining himself pleasuring Josie there in the darkened office, finding inventive uses for ordinary office supplies.

“I don't know. The fantasy never goes all the way to the end.” She blushed but didn't look away from him.

“Because you always come first?” he asked, cursing
himself as the words rolled off his tongue. More sweat ran down the back of his neck.

“Mmm-hmm,” she said, and Trent knew then that he'd gotten in too deep.

 

H
IS FINGERS
, his tongue, were everywhere. Touching, exploring, pleasuring, driving her out of her mind.

“Oh, Trent. Mmm, oh, yes! Trent, please, touch me there—”

The phone rang and Josie tried to ignore it, focusing on the feel of Trent's tongue probing between her legs. He seemed not to hear the incessant ringing. He kept coaxing her to the brink of orgasm, then pulling back, again and again. Driving her mad. But the phone, it wouldn't stop—

Josie was jolted awake by the sound of the ringing phone on her nightstand. She looked around, disoriented by her dream and its sudden interruption. She was soaking wet in her nightshirt, and the sheets were twisted around her legs. She banned the erotic images of Trent from her mind and grabbed the receiver.

Just as she mumbled “Hello?” she caught a glimpse of the clock and saw that it was three in the morning. It had to be her mother, calling in the middle of the next day by Czech time and not caring one bit that she was waking Josie.

“Hello, Josephine. Sleeping alone, I bet.”

“Yeah, I just sent home that wrestling team a few hours ago.”

Her mother laughed. She was the only mother on earth, as far as Josie knew, who'd laugh at her daughter's joke about group sex with an entire sports team. Josie had given up wishing she had the kind of mom
who baked cookies and complained about wanting grandchildren.

“How's the center doing?”