Fair Game (9 page)

“Put your foot here.” He patted his knee.

She eyed him, as if wondering what he could possibly be calculating. He’d never met a woman who so easily expected an agenda in whatever anyone else did. Or maybe she just let her suspicion show more than most.

Then she put her foot on him. Her warmth spread up his leg straight to his groin. Her scent intoxicated like a shot of tequila thrown back in one swallow. She accordioned the stocking in her fingers, slipped the tip over her toes, then slowly slid it up her long, long legs. At the top, she patted the lace into place and put her foot back on the carpet.

“Lovely,” he whispered, his eyes on her panties as the cotton grew damp. She had perfect thighs, perfect everything. “The other one.”

She repeated the procedure. By the time she was fully encased in fishnet, he was hard, ready, amazingly recharged by the scent of her, the sight, the need to taste that sweet triangle between her legs.

“Which panties do you want me to try on?” she asked, when it appeared he couldn’t say a word.

Kyle perused the row of colorful lace and silk on the hooks. This one, that one . . . ? He glanced to the thong she already wore, then pointed at the center of the pink flower. “That. I like the contrast of white cotton, bare ass, and fishnet.” A decadent combination. Hot woman, demure lady.

Then he tipped her pump to the side with his foot. “Too bad you weren’t wearing high heels. Nothing like stockings and spike heels.”

“Sorry,” she said dryly. “What you see is what you get.”

Damn, how much he wanted what he saw. He rose from the chair to stand behind her. Her hair smelled of spice and citrus.

“I like it,” he whispered, capturing her gaze in the mirror. “A lot.” Grazing his finger along the top of the bustier, he teased her, then slid a hand down the smooth satiny front to the elastic of her thong. “More than a lot.”

He brought his body flush to her back, his cock riding the low curve of her spine. He dropped a kiss on her luscious nape, then watched the trail of his hand in the mirror.

“What are you doing?”

He tickled beneath the elastic waist. “Same thing you did to me.”

She captured his wrist. “No way. This was my gig. I got to do what I wanted, not you.”

“Correction. You did what you wanted, now it’s
my
gig. And this is what I’m doing.” Lightning quick, he tunneled between her plump pussy lips to all the heat and damp within.

She sucked in a breath, arched against him. “No.”

“Yes.” He pinned her against him with one arm and teased her clit. “You know you need an orgasm.” He let his voice feather across her ear. “Look how wet you are.” He withdrew, tracing her mouth, leaving behind a glimmer of her own moisture.

Her eyelids fell, her breath puffed, and her ass undulated against him. “This is bad. That woman might come back.”

“This is good. And I don’t give a fuck if she’s standing right out there.” He licked the rim of her ear. “Neither do you.” His hand trailing once more to her panties, he stopped just at the edge. “But if you’re worried, we don’t have to do this.”

She focused on his eyes in the mirror for one long moment. “You know damn well I’m not going to tell you to stop now.”

But neither did she beg. Kyle didn’t care. He simply hitched her closer and dove into her thong. She gasped as he entered her with one finger, sliding as deep as the position would allow.

“Like that?” he asked, gliding out to stroke the hard button of her clit.

She merely whimpered, squirmed, then dug her fingers into his arm where he held her. Leaning her head back into his shoulder, she caught his gaze in the mirror through the slits of her eyes. “It’s fine. Whatever. If you want to go on, go on.”

“You love it. If I stopped, you’d beg.”

“No, I wouldn’t.” Above the line of the corset, her flesh was tinged with pink.

She wouldn’t beg no matter how badly she wanted that orgasm. She wouldn’t give him the power. Kyle didn’t need it. He only needed to get her off, not for the advantage, but for the heat, the desire, and the beauty of it.

He rode her clit until she had to close her eyes again. Until she couldn’t hold back her moans, and the breathy sounds slipped from her lips. Until she writhed in his arms, moved with his rhythm, put her own hand over his and helped him.

“Sir, are we doing fine in there? Anything else I can help you with?”

“We are absolutely fine,” he said as he worked the gorgeous woman in his arms.

Josie bit her lip, but didn’t say a word, didn’t stop him.

“Well, then,” the woman said on the other side of the curtain, “I’ll give you a few more minutes.”

“Thank you for your consideration.” He slid deep, back out, pulled Josie high against him and shot her into oblivion with one last tiny circle of her clit.

She bucked, shook, and climaxed hard, pulling him forward until he was bent over her, his hand trapped between her tight thighs as she rode out the orgasm.

Finally she sagged, and he let them both fall gently to their knees on the carpet. He gathered her onto his lap, stroked the hair from her face, and placed a chaste kiss on her forehead.

It was the best fucking orgasm he’d shared in more years than he could remember. And he didn’t have a clue why.

 

 

 

BASTARD. He’d made her lose control again, and it was too damn good. He stood in front of the mirror knotting his tie while she struggled to get all her clothes back on. Her legs felt weak, her head light, and she wobbled as she stepped into her shoes.

That’s exactly how he made her feel: off balance, all wobbly. She was supposed to have come out of this the victor over him. Instead, he’d given her a cataclysmic climax to which her body still thrummed.

He gave the tie a last pat into place and pulled on his suit jacket. “Which one do you want?” He held up the silver bustier, then the red one.

Josie flipped the price tag. “Two hundred dollars?” She puffed a breath out and looked up at him. “Forget it.”

“I liked you in the silver. With the stockings.”

“I do not have two hundred bucks to spend on something like that.” She yanked her jacket up her arms.

“I’m not asking you to pay for it. It’s a present.”

“I don’t accept presents that expensive.” Which her mother thought totally appalling. After all, a woman was worth as much as a man was willing to spend on her. And usually more. Josie had never liked the obligation. A man could think he owned you if he gave you lots of pretty things. That made it too easy for him to take something away, like your sense of self-worth. You were special only if
he
thought you were special. She wouldn’t depend on a man, and she wouldn’t owe him anything either.

Kyle tipped his head to one side. His eyes seemed bluer, maybe picking up the blue stripe of his tie. Dark-haired guys weren’t usually blue-eyed. They were either brown or hazel, and certainly not that deep shade.

Then he sighed. “Fair enough. How about the stockings?” He flipped over the package she’d stuck the fishnets back into. Reading the price, he held it up for her to see. “This okay?”

She felt kind of stupid making a fuss about it, since it didn’t seem like a big deal to him. “Yeah. That’s fine.” Jeez, twenty bucks for a pair of nylons with holes in them. “Thank you,” she added, then started gathering all the hangers off the hooks.

“I do think the saleslady will clear those up for you.”

She considered, then put them all back except for one pair of frilly, excessively girly panties. She was just full of ideas these days, and she was having a brilliant one right now.

Outside in the main shop, the saleslady beamed, even if they weren’t carrying the expensive corset. “Oh, you’ve found what you wanted,” she said, the smile in her voice, too.

Okay, so she probably hadn’t heard what was going on in the dressing room for—Josie glanced at her watch—good God, half an hour.

“The stockings were amazing,” Kyle said. If Josie could see his eyes, she knew they’d be sparkling. He handed the package to the woman, who headed back behind the glass-topped sales counter.

“And don’t forget this one, honey.” Josie held up the frilly underwear, then batted her eyelashes at him as she laid the hanger on the counter beside the stockings. “They looked perfect on you.” Then she winked at the saleswoman. “They were a tad small, but then he’s such a big man, I don’t think they make them large enough.”

Kyle started coughing, covering his mouth, and dammit, his eyes were
still
sparkling. Oddly enough, the clerk didn’t lose one centimeter of her smile as she rang everything up.

Outside, Kyle grabbed her hand and pulled her around a corner. “Naughty little bitch,” he said, just before his mouth came down on hers.

Oh my Lord. His mouth. Heaven. She’d never been a smoocher. But God, she could make out with this man for hours. He tasted of breath mints, his lips were warm, his tongue expert. The kiss lasted fifteen seconds, but it left her dizzy. And wanting more.

He shoved the bag of lingerie into her hands. “Payback is coming,” he whispered.

She knew she was doomed. “You have to wait a week,” she said, trying to sound haughty and in control.

Kyle settled back against the wall, pulling her with him so that she leaned against his chest. “You can’t wait a week.”

Josie’s eyes flared wide. “Oh yes, I can.”

“All work and no play makes Josie a very dull girl,” he quipped. She was anything but, especially with that whole panty thing back in the store. She deserved a lot of payback, and he knew the statement would get her going.

“I don’t work all the time.”

“You said you don’t date. That sounds like a lack of play.”

“I might not date”—she lifted her chin with an arrogant set to it—“but I play.”

He snorted. “A vibrator doesn’t count.”

She pressed her lips together, narrowed her eyes, as if he’d insulted her. “I do have
friends
.”

“Friends?” This was interesting.

“Men friends.”

He let his smile grow slowly. “You mean”—dramatic pause—“fuck buddies?”

Her face colored. He couldn’t imagine why. He’d had his share of casual relationships based solely on sex, at least in the beginning, though he’d found the majority of women ended up wanting to “move to the next level.”

“Yes, fuck buddies,” she said, with that haughty tilt to her chin once again. “What of it?”

The truth was, he admired it. The woman had goals, determination, savvy, smarts. Nothing was going to get in her way, least of all her own needs. She had an itch, she got it scratched.

“More than one fuck buddy?” he wanted to know.

“A couple.” She shrugged eloquently. “If one’s busy, I’ve got a backup plan.” She suddenly smiled brightly.

God, the idea was hot. He liked the edge of vulnerability in her need to justify it, too. She wasn’t all brass balls, as she tried to pretend. He wanted in on the game. “Make me your fuck buddy.”

She pressed her lips together primly. “I think what we did tonight qualified.” Then she smirked. “But I’m still not seeing you more than once a week.”

“Because you have to keep your other buddies happy, too?” He didn’t like
that
idea quite so much.

“No. Because I need my sleep.” She put her hand to his chest and slowly pushed away from him, her eyes on his. “Which is why I’m leaving now.”

She was a challenge, and he had to admit that made him more intrigued, kept his blood running hotter. Like a diamond, she had many different facets he wanted to explore.

And he’d make sure he was the only fuck buddy she had.

 

 

HER mother was the only one for whom Josie would miss half a morning’s worth of work. A summons from Dora Tybrook was akin to a royal command. This time Jose was to pay homage at the country club. Her mom had a nine thirty tennis match.

Her sunglasses shading her eyes, Josie sat on a sideline bench, her bottle of water warming in the morning sun. It promised to be a scorcher today.

“Yay,” she cheered as her mom won another point. Josie had never been into tennis. She didn’t work out, she simply worked hard, walked fast, went to a coworker’s office instead of picking up the phone to call, took stairs instead of elevators—unless there were too many floors and she was in a hurry, as she had been that first day at Kyle’s office.

Heh. Sometimes a moment’s decision changed
every
thing.

She’d never before considered turning a customer or even a coworker into one of her play buddies. All right, call it what it was, a fuck buddy, just as Kyle said. She’d felt a momentary blip of embarrassment that she’d been found out, then gotten over it. She didn’t mind the terminology, but neither did she advertise that she had “friends with benefits.” Most people got on their high horse about it, but it kept her sane. She wanted sex, but didn’t want the fuss that went with a relationship.

She met a guy, got the hots for him, and if things worked correctly, they developed an understanding where either one could make a booty call when their hormones were raging. They drifted in and out of her life just as girlfriends came and went. She never had more than a couple of buddies at one time, not as in two guys doing her at once, but as in two separate and distinct play relationships going concurrently.

Okay, there had been a couple of times that she’d been with two men together, but while she’d thought it would be double the pleasure, it was actually double the work. That might have been the guys she chose to do it with, though. Anyway, variety in both what you did and who you did it with kept a girl from entangling herself in messy emotions. It also kept her in the driver’s seat, with the added advantage that it was a helluva lot better for all concerned than trolling bars. In addition, sex was the only arena in which her “buddies” entered her life.