Seducing Steve (6 page)

“Come over. I’ll show you,” she said, her voice soft and coaxing. Sara’s pulse throbbed as she awaited his answer.

“Tell me.”

The steely determination in his voice gave her pause. The desire to withhold was overwhelming, but the hot rush of moisture his refusal to cave sent gushing to her pussy made her squirm in her seat.

“You were standing there in the doorway, and you looked so good. I’d missed seeing you. I wanted to kiss you hello. I wanted to drop down on my knees and unzip you with my teeth.”

“Yeah?”

The hiss of his breath was gratifying. “Oh yeah,” she answered, mimicking his earlier sentiment.

The unmistakable rasp of a zipper shot chills down her spine. Her panties grew damp, clinging to the lips of her sex. She slipped one hand under the hem her t-shirt and teased the elastic, just as he did too many days before.

“Go on,” he prompted.

Sara’s voice grew bolder and steadier. “I’d push your pants down, baring that fabulous ass for all the neighbors to see.”

“You think my ass is fabulous?”

The smug tone of his voice made her want to laugh. Instead, she purred, “Your ass is incredible. Two perfect handfuls, round, and firm, and high... I want to take a bite out of it.”

Steve groaned, and her fingers brushed over the damp crotch of her panties. She slipped one under the elastic, grazing her swollen sex. “I’d wrap my lips around your cock, drawing you deeper and deeper into my mouth.”

“My hands in your hair,” he murmured.

Sara gathered a bit of the moisture pooling between her legs and circled her clit with one slick fingertip. A tiny moan escaped from the knot of need in her throat. A jolt of electricity nearly short-circuited her brain. Her words came soft and breathy.

“I’d take you as far as I can, holding you against my tongue, your fingers pressing into my scalp. You’re holding me there as you thrust your big cock into my mouth.”

“Jesus, Sara.”

Her finger slid the length of her wet folds. She teased her aching clit mercilessly. “Sliding in and out, fucking my mouth,” she murmured. His strangled groan made her sigh with pleasure. She thrust one finger into her hot channel. “I’d be so wet. My pussy would be so jealous of my mouth.”

Moments ticked by with only the sound of their gasping breaths to mark them. “I’m in your mouth. Your fingers,” he growled.

Her voice was coy when she asked, “What about them?”

He muttered an oath. “Put them inside,” he ground out at last.

“They’re already there.”

“I want you.”

“How? Tell me how you want me.”

“I want you in every way. Fast and hard. Slow and sweet. I wanna lick you and suck you...”

He jostled the phone, and she envisioned him stroking his cock, fisting himself with his long, strong fingers. She pushed her fingers into her pussy, fucking herself deeper. “Yes, yes.”

“And fuck you until you scream my name.”

“Yes!” she cried out.

“Are you coming, Sara? Come, I want you to come.”

She whimpered when her body surged, straining for completion.

“I want to bury my face in you and lick you until you come, push my tongue into you and make you come again. Again and again… I want my dick buried deep inside you.”

Sara pierced his monologue with a ragged cry.

“Jesus, you feel so good wrapped around me. Nothing should ever feel that good...”

He trailed off, grunting and gasping in her ear. Her name whispered from his lips. He groaned long and loud as he came. Sara met him there, lost in the draw of her pussy around her fingers. Her chest heaved as if she’d just run a marathon; her tight nipples chafed against her shirt. Her keening moan punctuated his short, sharp breaths.

Neither of them said a word. Sara didn’t think she could wrestle one past her dry throat even if she could conjure up one.

“Sara?” he called to her, his voice deep and whiskey rough.

“I’m here.” Her slowing heart skipped a beat. Panic clawed at her throat. She closed her eyes, biting back the urge to beg him to come to her. Sara pulled her hand from her panties and smoothed her rumpled skirt over her knees.

“Good,” he said at last.

She blew out a gusty breath. “Lord that was hot.”

Steve hesitated. “I was taught not to talk to a lady like that.”

“Maybe I’m not a lady.”

“You are,” he insisted. “At least a Dame.”

Glad to be back on more familiar turf, she played along. “Like Judy Dench?”

“But hotter. Classy like Judy, but sexy like Sharon.”

“I might be getting a little worried about your Sharon Stone obsession.”

“Don’t worry about it. One night I’ll run across
Catwoman
on cable, and Halle will distract me.”

“Slut.”

“Me?”

“You,” she grumbled.

“I’m just a red-blooded all-American male, sugar.” He jostled the phone a bit. “You got a cat suit?”

“No.”

“See? You are a lady.” His voice dropped another full octave. “I like that about you.”

“Uh-huh?”

“You’re sexy and sweet, Sara, and you don’t have to work at it.”

She bit her lip, letting his words seep into her skin. “Thank you.”

“My pleasure,” he whispered.

Silence hummed in her ear. He cleared his throat. Sara smiled as she envisioned him roughing his hair with his hand—a nervous habit she found unbearably attractive.

“Have you ever done, uh, this before? The phone thing?” he asked.

“No. Have you?” Steve held his tongue for a moment too long, and Sara caught it. “You have?”

“
I
haven’t, no. I mean, I didn’t, um, say things.”

“Someone said them to you?” When he hesitated, she blurted, “Forget it. I don’t want to know.”

“Sara,” he cajoled.

She heard the desperation in his tone, but her humiliation carried the day. Determined to put this debacle of a phone call behind her, she cleared her throat and asked, “You’ll come over tomorrow?”

“Yes. It wasn’t like this...”

No. She didn’t want excuses. She couldn’t take his justifications. “As soon as you’re done at work?”
It’s not like I thought he was a virgin. I just thought…

“Yes. It wasn’t like me and you—”

Maybe I was different from the others…
“I’ll make lasagna.”

Steve sighed heavily. “I’ll bring wine.”

She sat still, listening to his soft, even breaths as they echoed through the phone.

“No one is like you, Sara. You know that, right?”

She bit her lip and drew a deep breath, unwilling to give in to the smile of pure feminine pleasure threatening to break through her pout. She forced her voice to be deliberately light and teasing when she whispered, “Have sweet dreams, Steve.”

His voice was rich with laughter and smooth as molasses as he replied, “Darlin’, I think we both know they’re gonna be.”

Chapter Six

Steve throttled the neck of an innocent bottle of Merlot as he climbed the steps to Sara’s apartment. He balled his hand into a fist to keep from peeling his suit coat from his shoulders. He wanted to sling the jacket over his shoulder in hopes that Sara would fall to her knees and act out the scene she described in such vivid detail the night before.

Too obvious. Too desperate. Cool, play it cool. Do not jump her the minute she opens the door. Let her take the lead.

The days that passed since their first encounter allowed him to catch up on his required reading. He plowed through each of her books, searching for snippets of himself in her characters and coming up empty. Still, it wasn’t a complete loss. Buried deep in his desk drawer was an old electric bill envelope covered in notes. Over the last two days, he made diligent lists of things her heroines seemed to like and, much to his chagrin, her heroes’ leading characteristics.

Apparently, Sara liked the bossy, commanding type.
I can do that.
Steve closed his eyes as he raised his fist to knock.
Be in charge. Be strong. Don’t act like a lovesick puppy dog. Got it.

The pep talk continued as his knuckles rapped the door. He just hoped he didn’t go blank the minute the test began. Sara opened the door, and a tiny frisson of fear skittered down his spine.

Okay, hang on, hang on. Breathe. Do
not
jump her. I can do this. I can do this.

She stared up at him, and he struggled to keep his face neutral as he scanned the snug, stretchy pants she wore with a pink zippered hoodie. He tried for a cool, sardonic smirk. Those seemed to go over well in her books. “I’m overdressed.”

“Hi,” she said softly.

“Hey.”

His brain tried to issue the command to give her his customary hug, but his synapses seemed to be on strike. Her smile faltered a bit, and he wanted to kick his own ass.

“Are you coming in?” she asked, a note of apprehension creeping into her voice.

“Yeah.”

Sara stepped back, and the opportunity for the hug was lost. Instead, he held up the bottle of wine for her inspection and said, “Is this okay?”

Sara nodded. “Perfect. Thank you.”

She took the bottle he offered and turned toward the kitchen. “Dinner is in the oven, but it’ll be a little while.”

She checked over her shoulder as if she was uncertain he would follow. Steve felt an almost irrepressible urge to laugh.
How could she not know I’d follow her over a cliff?

He stopped in the doorway, figuring the eight feet separating them might be enough to keep from launching himself at her. Sara placed the bottle on the counter and bent to rifle through a drawer. The smooth knit of her black pants stretched enticingly over her ass, and Steve lost the thread tethering him to self-control.

Oh hell.

“How long is a little while?” he asked abruptly.

Sara pulled a corkscrew from the drawer, wincing as she glanced from his face to the clock on the stove and back. “Thirty minutes or so, I guess. Why? Are you in a hurry?”

The slight tremor of nervousness in her voice did him in. Steve crossed the room in three long strides and grasped her waist, pulling her roughly to him.

“Yep,” he said, his voice gruff and deep.

“Oh, well, hello!” Tipping her head back, she grinned at him.

“Hey.”

The kiss was hot and demanding on both sides. His lips parted, and his teeth scraped hers. Sara turned toward him, straightening her torso until she was pressed flush against his body.

Steve pulled back, ignoring her grunt of disappointment as he raised both hands to her face. He pushed her hair back, his thumbs caressing her jaw, and he held her there, staring into her eyes.

“I was afraid you weren’t happy to see me.”

“I thought about you, Sara. I thought about you all day,” he said in a harsh whisper. “Happy now?”

“Yes.”

“Good.”

He dipped his head and kissed her tenderly. Her lips clung to his so sweetly, and warning bells clamored in his head. He pulled back, using a fraction of a second to capture the emotion welling inside of him in a choke hold. His arms banded around her like steel, lifting her from the floor. Sara yelped in surprise.

“Wrap your legs around me,” he ordered.

She complied, her thighs gripping his hips like a vise. His hands slid down to her ass, cradling her against him as he turned on his heel.

Her lips teased the skin of his throat. “Where are we going?”

He didn’t answer. Instead he strode straight to her bedroom, kicking the door wider and carrying her directly to her bed. Sara laughed when he dropped her unceremoniously on the mattress. She beamed up at him as he reached for his tie and began to yank on the knot.

Sara scrambled to her knees, brushing his hands away. “You’re gonna tear it.”

“I don’t care,” he said, letting his hands fall to her hips.

His fingers pressed into her flesh when Sara pulled the tie from his collar, letting the silk dangle from her fingers before it slithered to the floor. He kept his eyes fixed on hers while she opened the top button on his shirt. A ragged exhale marked the first crack in his reserve.

Sara smiled. “What about dinner?” Her tone may have been teasing, but her body was taunting when she swayed against his chest.

“I don’t give a damn about dinner.”

He reached for the zipper on her sweater and jerked it down six inches. Sara drew in a sharp breath. His eyes fell to her breasts. His breath stirred the wisps of hair trailing over her shoulder.

“Aren’t you starving? You’re always starving.”

Steve’s lips twitched into a smile. “I am. I am starving.”

He cupped the back of her neck and tugged on her hair. Sara’s lips parted in shock, and he took full advantage, kissing her as if he’d been unleashed.