Naughty Wishes Part I (13 page)

Had she believed she’d had an orgasm before this? That was like comparing a bite of cheap novelty chocolate, the kind used to make holiday shapes like bats and witches or reindeer and snowflakes, to a chocolate whose only purpose was to
be the best chocolate possible. This was Ghirardelli, Dove, Hershey’s and Lindt all rolled into one sweet, thick waterfall.

He’d told her to keep her hands above her head, but she so desperately wanted to touch him, to wind her arms and legs around him. It might change the sensations, but this was about far more than just the physical. There was an emotional component she needed just as desperately. The orgasm was so close . . .

“Geoff,” she gasped. “Please . . . I want to hold you. Please.”

He met her gaze. There was something there, something more he wanted, but maybe he thought, like she had, that it was too soon. Yet in this moment, with everything else swirling around her, she knew it wasn’t time that defined when something was right; it was the heart and soul.

“Please, Master. Please let me hold you.”

It was worth everything to see the reaction on his face, as if by calling him that she’d just given him the answer to everything he was and wanted to be to her. No matter how many missteps they might have on the way, it didn’t change what he was to her, or her to him.

He nodded. His expression was so concentrated, the muscles in his arms and chest so defined, she realized he was holding on to control by a thread. Wrapping her arms around his shoulders, she brought him down closer. The sensation of having him pressed against her aching breasts, feeling their hearts beat together, elicited a cry of delight from her. His arm changed position, banding around her waist, palm pressed to her hip. His breath against her ear, his chest pressed against her breasts, the friction of her nipples against his chest hair, was pure bliss. She rocked her hips up, took him even deeper, and another cry broke from her lips.

“God . . . sir . . . Master, I’m going to come. Please . . . let me . . . come.”

He said nothing and kept thrusting into her, but his gaze was on her face, watching her frantic eyes, her mouth opening wider, taking in more air as she tried to hold on to control. “Please . . .” she wailed, the climax starting to take her.

“Now,” he muttered, putting his cheek down against hers, the sandpaper rasp of his stubbled jaw abrading her tender flesh, another welcome sensation. His hand stayed on her knee, though, keeping her legs in place even when she so desperately wanted to wrap them around him too. Yet, as the climax rolled through her, it became clear why he had kept her in this position. It was a mind-boggling overload of sensation, more so than anything she’d ever experienced. She was straining up from the bed like she was possessed, raking his back with her nails. Maybe she
was
possessed, because she was in the grip of something that wouldn’t let her go. That she didn’t want to ever let her go.

He came at that pinnacle, adding to the unforgettable pleasure of it. She closed her eyes, holding on to him, riding that
wave together, wishing he hadn’t had to wear the condom so she could feel his seed jetting inside her, marking her. His strong arm held her, his hips still thrusting, taut buttocks flexing against the inside of her thighs.

“Oh . . . oh God.” She was chanting it as he slowed, as they hummed to a stop like race cars passing the finish line, not really wanting to let go of the sense of exhilarating speed. Not wanting to let go, period. She pressed her mouth against his throat, his crashing pulse, and when he turned his face to hers, it was the most natural thing in the world to meet him mouth to mouth. He took a slow, penetrating kiss even deeper, framing her face with his hands as he controlled the pacing, dueling with her tongue, bringing wet heat against her lips.

He put pressure on her thigh, letting her know she could finally straighten her legs. Her feet slid over the backs of his knees, coming to rest on his calves as she cradled him between her thighs. The change of position sent another aftershock through her and she whimpered against his lips. He thrust a little deeper. When she was at last able to open her eyes, he was studying her face with a gaze alight with desire, making her think of what he’d said, that there was no end to the things he wanted to do to her. It was a scary, scary thought. But it was the good kind of fear.

“How did you learn to do that?” she said.

His look of male satisfaction amused her. “I read a lot of letters to
Penthouse
. They’re far more educational than you’d expect. And
Men’s Health
always has great sex tips.”

She chuckled and closed her eyes, pressing her face to his. “Oh God. Geoff.” She held him so tight, and received the same gift in return as he banded both arms around her, pressing a kiss to her throat, her shoulder. Threading her fingers through his dark blond hair, she caressed the nape of his neck, finding the strength to run her foot along the back of his thigh, cross her legs over his hips and squeeze them over his gorgeous naked ass.

“You didn’t say it. Please promise me. Promise me you won’t back away from this again. Please.”

“I won’t. I promise. Shh. It’s all right. I’m here.”

How did he know the glorious moment of delight was mixed with a weird kind of downward swoop, where she desperately needed his comfort and strength to be sure everything was okay? She’d worked toward this goal, and she’d definitely, finally, gotten them past the starting gate and on their way down the track. But that meant the race would now have a life of its own, beyond her control if a crash was imminent. Yet if Geoff told her it would be okay, that he and Chris would be right there with her, all the way, she’d know it was okay.

Opening her eyes, she realized her thought about shattering into starlight wasn’t entirely random. Over his shoulders, she could see the glow-in-the-dark stars, constellations and planets she and Chris had stuck to Geoff’s ceiling as a prank. He hadn’t noticed them right away, since he often worked at the dining room table so late that, when he came to bed, he fell
face forward into the pillows and was out like a light. A week later, when she’d been getting ready for work, she’d heard him snort with laughter. “All right,” he’d called out. “Who put this shit on my ceiling? What’s next, a
Star Trek
bed?”

But he hadn’t removed them. She’d recently found some
Star Trek
sheets on sale and tucked them away, her and Chris conspiring to put them on Geoff’s bed for his birthday. She’d also found a stencil of the various phrases the
Star Trek
captains used to order the ship in motion and intended to paint those on the wall while he was at work that day. She’d put them in a whimsical arc:
Make it so
,
Engage
and Chris’s favorite—given that it would be over Geoff’s bed—
Punch it
.

“Once those are up, he sure as hell won’t be bringing any girls back to our place,” Chris had observed. “Not that he ever has.”

It was a joke, but when she thought of it now, her fingertips slid over Geoff’s shoulder, down to his biceps. “So . . . do you have to use the condom?”

Geoff lifted his head. As if suddenly realizing he was still fully on top of her and might be getting heavy, he shifted, pulling out with a regretful look she appreciated, given that her own body protested the loss of connection. Stripping off the condom, he dumped it in the trash can by the nightstand, then he turned on his side next to her and gathered her close. As she pillowed her head on his biceps, she wasn’t sure if he’d answer or make her repeat herself, but he touched her face, running his fingertips along her cheek and jaw.

“You’re the one who has to answer that,” he said. “While Chris believes my insistence on keeping the kitchen so clean is evidence of an overabundance of estrogen, I’m fairly sure you’re the only one in the house who can get pregnant.”

She smiled. She was making little whorls in his chest hair with one tentative fingertip. When he didn’t object to her touching him, she started threading through the light mat of gleaming strands. She pressed her palm over his pectoral, feeling the steady heartbeat beneath his firm flesh. “He had to revise that idea when he saw what a slob I was.”

“You are not a slob. You’re a clutter bug, as my mother used to say. You collect things and refuse to give them away. And you forget to pick up after yourself. The day I tripped over your heels in the living room was the first time I gave serious thought to spanking you.”

He squeezed her buttock hard enough that she realized—with a tiny thrill—he intended it to be uncomfortable. She saw him watching her carefully to gauge her reaction to it. Wondering whether it was too much, just enough, or if she wanted more.

Just call her Oliver.
More, sir. Please, I want some more.

“I take birth control,” she said. While she was open about most things with them, she believed in certain courtesies.
Like not leaving her feminine products or birth control compact out with her deodorant and toothbrush. Either in reaction or because they were naturally that way, Chris and Geoff were equally courteous about such things. She’d never seen a condom packet left on a dresser, or a pair of dirty underwear on the floor. “But there are other reasons . . . for protection.”

“You’re fishing,” he said mildly. She didn’t deny it. She also kept her eyes on his chest, following her hand down as she traced his hair to where it narrowed into a tight arrow that cut between his abdominal muscles. His cock was at rest on his thigh, a very different animal from the turgid shaft that had her tissues still vibrating with gratifying soreness. But she had a feeling it could rouse to that thickness and length again in no time. She needed the answer to her question.

“I don’t have to wear it,” he said at last. “The last time I . . . Christ, it’s bad when you can’t remember the last time . . . ah. Okay. Yeah. Then.”

“When?” she asked, with just enough demand to earn an amused glance.

“It was a weak moment with an attorney visiting from our New York office. She needed to let off some steam, and so did I. I don’t do unprotected sex anyway, but that was also well before my last physical.”

Tally Winters.
She knew it had to be. She’d hoped Tally had been his last lover, and hearing it was reassured her, even if it still didn’t feel great. She reminded herself it was months ago. To a twentysomething single male, that probably seemed a lifetime ago. Whereas she hadn’t had sex with anyone since Anthony. And what about Chris? He’d dated a nurse a couple of times. How long ago had that been? About a year, she realized. But he might have had a hookup here or there that she didn’t know about.

“Hey.” Geoff tapped her forehead. “Come back out of there. You’ve got the frowny face happening.”

“Do not.” But her lips quivered as he deliberately traced their downward curve.

“How long have you thought of the three of us as together?” His shrewd eyes drew the answer from her silence. “Yeah. So it feels crappy to you, to think any one of us might have been doing something, or someone, since that time.”

“Chris could be doing someone right now, down in the Gulf. Some FEMA worker or Red Cross nurse.”

“No, he couldn’t. Sam, whatever’s gone on before, when you took us to Naughty Bits that day, you were sending us a pretty clear message. Neither one of us would act on anything outside of this relationship until we had time to address that, see if we wanted to take it deeper together.” His gaze swept their two naked bodies. “I’m thinking you pretty much got a resounding
yes
out of me. I’m not seeing Chris giving you a different answer, though only Chris can answer for Chris.”

All reminders that this was just the beginning, and sex could make things seem so easy. He pushed her hair away from her face. “Stop it,” he said sternly. “Don’t do that overthinking thing you do, or I swear to God, I will start all over again.”

She grinned at that; she couldn’t help it. “Promise? Like right now?”

“Like right after I have a nap,” he grumbled, adjusting the blanket over her as she shivered. He rolled away from her, stretching in an intriguing way toward the floor and coming back with his underwear. At her disappointed look, he shook his head.

“If I go to sleep without putting on underwear, I might get attached to the sheets in an unpleasant way. Bodily fluids are Elmer’s glue, not Post-it note adhesive.”

He brought the covers over them as she giggled. When he drew her close once more, she twined her arms around him, resting her head on his bent arm. She was in Geoff’s bed, being held by him, and he wanted her to stay and sleep with him.

Her mind was buzzing with a million possibilities and future plans, but inside his arms, as she curled her arm over his back, tucking her other one against herself, she let out a little sigh and with it some of that energy. Right now was a time to shut it all off and just enjoy the moment. Follow him into dreams.

His other hand slid down her waist to her hip, fingers stroking her flank in a casually intimate way. He moved his palm over both her buttocks to cup them, his middle finger pressing between the seam to rub against her rim, a peculiar and not unpleasant sensation that pushed sleep back again, especially when he spoke against her temple.

“I want to be here first, Sam. Has any other man done that?”

“No. I’ve been a pretty vanilla girl. I haven’t really been with anyone who had an interest in that or, you know, who I trusted that way. I’ve played with toys some. It felt good when I did it.”

“Hmm. A pretty vanilla girl with very unvanilla thoughts. You pushed me about as hard as any sub could without getting herself into the wrong kind of trouble with her Dom.” His lips pulled into a smile against her.

“It was worth it,” she whispered.

He grunted at that. A few moments later, his breath started to even out. Geoff never got as much sleep as he needed, so when it came to postcoital effect, he was obviously a goner. Letting her fingertips glide up and down his back, she nestled her face against his chest, gratified when his arms tightened around her even in sleep.