You've Got Male (20 page)

“He’s not a stranger,” Dixon reminded her. “You’ve been doing this with him for weeks.”

“Not him,” she said. “I thought he was someone else, someone I cared about. And I can’t do this now.”

“You have to,” he said again.

“Dixon, I
can’t.
”

“Well, I’m sure as hell not gonna do it.”

In spite of his protest, he leaned forward again, reaching both arms around her to place them over the keyboard. When he did it this time, he thrust his entire body forward so that his chest pressed into her back and his arms were aligned with hers and his legs were spread open alongside her own, his thighs pressing intimately into hers. And for one brief incredibly wonderful moment, his rough jaw brushed lightly over her cheek. Avery felt more than the warmth of his breath now. She felt the heat, the humming life, of his body, too. And she smelled him, the Ivory soap he’d bathed with that morning, the spicy shampoo he’d used on his hair, the potent scent of his own distinct masculinity.

And it was almost more than she could bear.

So long, she thought as her eyes fluttered closed. It had been so long since she had been physically close to a man. Ten years. That was how long it had been since she’d touched a man. That was how long it had been since a man had touched her.

No, not ten years, she remembered. Because Dixon had touched her that night in her apartment. Touched her intimately, too, when he’d searched her. But that night she’d been unable to respond with anything but terror. Tonight there was no fear. At least, not the kind that had been there before. She hadn’t known what was going on that first time, hadn’t known who he was or what his intentions were or where he would take her. Now she knew what was happening. Now she knew where he could take her. And she wanted more than anything for him to take her there.

She forced herself to open her eyes, to return her attention to the computer screen. And she saw that Dixon had typed something in for her and that Adrian had replied to what he’d said. But Dixon hadn’t moved away from her when he’d finished. His chair was still scooted up behind her stool and his body was perched right on its edge. His powerful thighs were still pressing into hers, his chest was still pushed against her back and his arms still rubbed along her own. But as much as she noticed the nearness of his body, she was focused more on the words that had scrolled down the screen.

Tell me what you want, Dixon had last typed for her.

I want your mouth on me, Adrian had replied.

Oh, God…

“Answer him,” Dixon said, his voice sounding even closer now than it had before. He dropped his hands from the keyboard, grabbed both of Avery’s and placed them where his had been. “I got you this far,” he added. “But you have to be the one to do the rest. Tell him what he wants to hear.”

“I can’t,” she said again, more breathlessly this time.

“You can,” Dixon assured her.

And she realized that she could, because Dixon’s nearness made her want all the things that Adrian wanted, too. If she could just think about Dixon instead of Adrian, think about the feel of his body against her own…his smell…his voice…his everything…

Taking a deep breath, Avery began to type.

She remembered what Andrew liked and she remembered he liked to read about it in coarse, raw language. So that was what she used for Adrian. Her fingers fumbled on the keys a few times as she began to describe what she was doing to him, but she recovered and continued as well as she could.

Now my hands are on your belt, she typed. Unfastening it, pulling the leather through the buckle very slowly. Watch the leather as it glides through the buckle. Now see my hands on the snap of your jeans. I’m undoing it, Andrew, and pulling down the zipper. I can see your big cock surging up as I unzip you and I put my hand inside to touch you. I palm the head and drag my fingers down your shaft. It’s so hard and long. I can’t wait to put it in my mouth. Your zipper is completely undone now and your cock is free. I’m lowering my head to it now, sucking you into my mouth….

She heard Dixon’s breathing coming from behind her, harder than it had been before, and she wondered if it was because he was getting as turned on as she was by what she was writing. Normally at this point in her conversations with Andrew she’d be touching herself, giving herself some small pleasure to help ease her frustration and make her enjoy the experience more. But with Dixon behind her, that was impossible. Her panties had grown damp and her breasts were tender and expectant, and her inability to satisfy herself the way she wanted to only multiplied her desire and her need and her passion. Adrian’s occasional comments—coarse and raw—enflamed her even more with the explicitness of what he would do to her when she was finished with him. Little by little, Avery began to breathe more raggedly, too.

You feel so good in my mouth, she typed. You taste so hot. So alive. I’m sucking you harder now, do you feel it? Pulling you deeper into my mouth, curling my tongue around the head of your cock. I feel your hand between my legs now, rubbing me, making me even wetter. Put your finger inside me….

She made her descriptions more graphic, more crude, more explicit. Heat shuddered through her, uncoiling in her belly to spread between her legs and over her breasts. She opened her mouth to breathe harder, battling the urge to reach behind herself for Dixon, to move his hand to the places she wanted so desperately to touch herself. So fierce was her need for him that for a moment she actually felt as if he were touching her, as if he’d slipped an arm around her waist and curled his fingers beneath her breast.

And then she realized she wasn’t imagining it at all. He really was touching her, was cradling the lower swell of her breast in the deep V of his thumb and forefinger. A frantic little sound escaped her, but she didn’t let herself turn around. Instead she kept typing, kept telling Adrian all the ways she wanted to pleasure him, all the things she wanted him to do to her. And as Dixon read over her shoulder, his hand drifted lower, along her rib cage, over her belly, down to her thigh, between her legs.

She cried out at the contact, so exquisite was his touch there. As he pressed his hand hard against her, Dixon groaned, dipping his head to her neck, rubbing his open mouth along the sensitive column of her throat. He looped his other arm around her waist, pulling her body back toward him, covering her breast over her shirt with one big hand. His other hand pushed harder against her damp center, making her cry out again, and it was all she could do to punch her thumb against the power button on the computer to shut it off.

She didn’t want Adrian. She wanted Dixon. And she wanted Dixon now.

Turning off the computer the way she had left them in total darkness, but that only made it more arousing. She felt his hands at the bottom of her shirt now, feverishly working to unbutton it, so she moved her own hands to the top, working her way down. They met at her center, and once the garment fell open, he jerked it down over her arms and cast it aside, covering her breasts with both hands over her bra. She surged forward as he pressed his mouth to her neck again, and reached behind herself to thread her fingers through his hair. It was so soft, so wonderful. She’d forgotten how silky a man’s hair could be, the sensual way it felt twined around her fingers. With one deft motion he unfastened the front clasp of her bra and cast it, too, to the floor. And then his hands were on her again, bare flesh to bare flesh.

It was glorious. He palmed her breasts with much enthusiasm, once, twice, three times, four, then caught her nipples between thumb and forefinger, rolling them gently before covering her with his hand again. One hand dipped lower, following the same route he had charted before, this time pausing at the waistband of her blue jeans. He fumbled for a minute with the buttons of her fly, then his hand was dipping inside the soft denim and pushing under the elastic of her panties, threading through the soft hair between her legs. Then lower still, to the damp folds of flesh that had been aching to be touched.

Avery spread her legs wider, granting him fuller access, and he responded by scooping his hand beneath her, slipping one long finger deep inside. She gasped at the extent and immediacy of his entry, bucking her hips forward to deepen the penetration, only to have him withdraw his finger and slide it in again. Over and over he thrust into and out of her, and Avery gasped at the ripples of pleasure that rocketed through her with each new push.

Good. It felt so good. So incredible. So extraordinary. So much better than when she did it herself….

Her orgasm seemed to go on forever, but eventually the little quakes inside her subsided. She felt a momentary pang of regret, then remembered that she and Dixon were just getting started. He wasn’t even undressed yet—something she intended to remedy right away.

He didn’t seem surprised when she rose and turned to face him. But he obviously hadn’t expected her to turn on the bedside lamp, because he squinted at the intrusion of the light, however scant. His gaze settled on hers for just a second, then dropped lower, to her naked breasts and her unfastened jeans. When he looked at her face again, his pupils had expanded to nearly eclipse the green irises.

For a moment, he said nothing. Then in a hoarse whisper he told her, “Come here.”

She took one step forward, all that was necessary to bring her between his legs. He lifted his hands to her waist, splaying them open over her sensitive flesh, raking his thumbs lightly over her bottom ribs. She closed her eyes and curled her fingers into his hair, sighing when she felt him press his mouth to her bare abdomen. He traced her navel with his tongue, rubbed his open mouth along her flat torso, then pushed his hands into her blue jeans and began to pull them and her panties down.

When he reached her ankles, she stepped out of her clothes, amazed at how little inhibition she felt being naked with him while he was still dressed. She’d always insisted on the man undressing first, had liked the feeling of being in control. With Dixon, though, she didn’t care. This time he could be in control. Next time she could be—

Well. She wouldn’t think about next time. She had him this time. And this time she intended to enjoy him. Somehow, it was enough.

He cupped his hands over her naked hips and pulled her toward himself, positioning her in a way that told her he wanted her to straddle him. She roped her arms around his neck as she sat astride his lap, threaded her fingers through his hair again, then leaned in to cover his open mouth with hers, capturing his tongue in an effort to consume him. She felt his hands open wide over her bare back, then move lower, cupping the curves of her derriere and squeezing hard.

Impatient and wanting to touch him, too, Avery moved her hands to the collar of his shirt and jerked hard to open it, ripping a few buttons completely from their moorings. She pushed the garment over his shoulders and tossed it to the floor, kissing him and kissing him and kissing him, until finally her naked skin connected with his.

It was a magnificent sensation, hot flesh rubbing against hot flesh. Avery had always loved sex. Reveled in it. She’d forgotten how narcotic the experience could be. As a teenager, she’d never been able to understand the inhibitions of her friends. Not that she’d been promiscuous or careless about sex—she’d been in college before she’d gone all the way with a boy. But from the moment she’d discovered physical closeness with the opposite sex, she’d seen no reason to be coy. She’d loved touching. She’d loved cuddling. She’d loved caressing. She’d loved tasting. She’d loved the sheer closeness of another body alongside her own. And once she did discover the joy of coupling, she’d wondered how she would ever live without it.

But she had lived without it. For much too long. And now…

Oh,
now…

“Now, Dixon,” she said aloud. “I want you inside me now.”

And without waiting for him to respond, she scrambled out of his lap and onto the floor, kneeling before him as she fought with the zipper of his jeans. The moment she pulled the heavy fabric open, he sprang forward, fully erect. She took a moment to marvel at the size and power of him, then she dipped her head forward and drew him into her mouth. He uttered a sound like a wild animal, then cupped one hand over the crown of her head. Avery rose up on her knees and pushed her head lower, drawing as much of him into her mouth as she could, savoring every inch. He tasted alive and male and potent, and although she took her time with him, it wasn’t enough. Not nearly enough.

“Oh, God, Avery,” he groaned as she intensified her attentions. “You keep this up, I’m not going to last much longer.”

Reluctantly she pulled back, not wanting things to move too fast. She’d waited ten years for a night like this and intended to enjoy every moment of it. She may never have another like it again.

She rose from her knees and moved to the bed, grabbing the corner of the spread and pulling it back. She did her best to look sensual as she climbed atop it, giving him a good view of what, all modesty aside, she knew was a very nice ass. At the center of the bed, she turned to face him and curled her legs beneath her, then brought her braid forward and loosened the rubber band that held it at the bottom. Little by little she unbraided it, until her hair cascaded over her shoulders like an ebony river. And then she fixed her gaze on Dixon’s, hoping he wouldn’t be able to resist.

Silently he stood, and she caught her breath at the sheer size of him. Half-naked, he somehow seemed even bigger than when he was clothed. Dark hair spanned his chest, his jeans gaped open and his hard rod stood at full staff. He looked primitive and untamable and hot. She could scarcely believe she was about to make love with such a man. Just the thought of it nearly brought her to climax.