The Big O Series Read online

  "Instinct?" I asked, reaching for the water glass in front of me.

  She glanced at me over a pair of cat-eye spectacles she'd pulled out of her purse right along with her notebook. I was such a goner. A girl in glasses, especially a retro pair like that, did me in every time. I was often playing out a part for the women who hired me, and here was this sexy, sweet girl who had no idea she was practically playing out a fantasy of mine.

  I wondered what she'd do if I told her I was fantasizing about seeing her sitting there naked, wearing nothing more than those spectacles, her hair still twisted up in that neat knot at the top of her crown.

  She'd panic, a calm voice assured me. When Gina told me she was a good girl, she'd been quite serious.

  Everything about Michelle screamed good girl, nice girl. All the things I'd lost a right to.

  "Jake?" she said softly.

  "Sorry?" I said, voice rough. Clearing my throat, I took another drink of water in hopes of hiding what she was doing to me.

  "Instinct," she prodded, cheeks still pink, but not as vividly so.

  "Yeah, instinct. A good lover can instinctively follow the cues of his partner's body."

  Her pupils spiked, but the corners of her mouth turned down slightly. She covered her reaction with a rueful smile. "And just what is he following? A roadmap that points this way to the G-spot?"

  I couldn't help but laugh. Leaning forward, I took her hand in mine. "A good lover knows the map is his partner's body, Michelle. Haven't you discovered that for yourself?"

  Again, her mouth tightened slightly. She tugged on her hand and gave me a quick shake of her head. "We're not talking about me, Jake."

  "But we're talking about women...sex. You're a woman. What I'm saying, in a way, should click with you." I brought her hand up so that her palm faced me. "Let me show you."

  She blinked, then her jaw dropped. "What...you...what?"

  "Calm down. This is just a...preview, if you wish." I pressed my thumbs into the center of her palm, slowly. The tension there made me wonder if she'd ever had a massage in her life. If she hadn't, she needed one. "Just relax, sugar. Let me show you what I mean. It doesn't have to require anything more than a few light touches...here, there..."

  And if she was amenable, more touches. Everywhere.

  Digging my thumbs in, I watched as her eyes fluttered. "You abuse your hands quite a bit," I said softly. "But then again, you're a writer. I would think you use them a lot."

  "Tools of the trade." Her voice was thicker now.

  "You should get a massage on a regular basis. It would do wonders for the tension you're carrying."

  "I get one when I go in for manicures and that sort of thing." She tugged on her hand again, but I didn't let up on the pressure. After a few seconds, she stopped trying to free herself and her eyes closed. "Okay, man...that feels amazing."

  "I can tell."

  Her lashes flew open. "I just said–"

  Bringing her hand to my lips, I murmured against her palm, "I could tell before you so much as said a word. Your skin is flushed, sugar. Your pupils are spiked." Gently, I shifted my grip and closed my hand around her wrist. "And your heart is racing. Feel how your pulse is thundering against my touch?"

  "You've been ignoring me when I tried to pull away," she rasped, eyes narrowing. "I could be irritated."

  Lifting one shoulder in a shrug, I responded, "There are different cues when a woman really wants to be left alone. Trust me, I know them all. And no...I'm not going to do a damn thing to bring even one of them out."

  Letting my lids droop, I nibbled on the fleshy pad of her palm and wondered if she'd let me keep touching her, keep it up long enough to talk her into a walk that would then let me talk her into showing her a few more things. Things that involved me putting my mouth on her body, my hands in her hair.

  Sliding my tongue out, I flicked it against her palm.

  She gasped.

  "That's another sign on the road map," I said roughly. "If you were a client, I'd say now wouldn't be a bad time to pay the bill and go up to our room."

  Her cheeks went a hot, vivid pink, the kind of erotic flush no amount of makeup could conceal. And when I lifted my hand to flag down the server, her lips parted until she was practically panting. "What are...what are you doing?"

  "Paying the bill." I gave her a slow smile. "But of course, if I was with a client, she'd be paying."

  Slowly, I let go of her hand and leaned back in my seat once more. Her hand stayed on the surface of the table where I'd left it, and I watched as she curled her fingers in until she could make a tight fist. I imagined her mentally picturing how it had felt to have me touch her, reliving it, clinging to the way it felt when I pressed my mouth to her, then clinging tight to the sensation.

  "I was..." She swallowed as a server approached with a black portfolio, my card already tucked inside. She frowned, seeing the card as I plucked it out. "I didn't even see them come by."

  "I left it with the maître d when he seated us. We're... acquainted."

  She lifted her chin. "I was going to cover the meal."

  "I wanted to. It was, after all, my idea." After leaving a tip and scrawling my name, I rose and held out a hand. "I was thinking we could walk. You have a coat."

  "If you're too cold, we can go back inside," I offered ten minutes later as a cold wind sliced down the street. We'd just turned the corner and Times Square loomed up in front of us. The hotel where I'd taken her for dinner was less than a block behind us and that was where I wanted to be. With her.

  But she wasn't ready.

  "I'm from Chicago," she said, her voice almost teasing. "This feels like spring."

  Ruefully, I replied, "I'm from Texas. This feels like it's fucking freezing."

  Almost as soon as I said it, I wanted to yank the words back. I had no idea why I'd tossed that out there. But as she swung her head around to face me, a faint smile on her face, I realized that I didn't really want to take it back.

  "Texas, huh? I thought I heard something almost cowboy-like in there."

  "Cowboy..." I chuckled. "I never even rode a damn horse until I came to New York City."

  "I used to ride all the time." She sighed, tipping her face back to the sky. "I was even on the equestrian team in college. But now..." She shrugged. "There's hardly any time. Have you ever noticed how hard it is to see the stars in the city?"

  I fought the urge to look up.

  Yeah, I'd noticed. I'd noticed, and I hated it. It made me miss home, the one place that I could never return. So, I tried not to think about the stars.

  "There are plenty of things much prettier than the sky to look at, Michelle," I said, leaning over to whisper in her ear.

  She shivered a little, and I knew it wasn't from the cold. "That's another sign on the map."

  I stopped walking and pulled her into the small dip of a close storefront. The shop, for now, was closed, and I had no doubt we were being monitored by some security camera somewhere, but I didn't care. "Sexual attraction is all about learning to read the clues, you know...and a good lover is just a partner who read them well and pays more attention to those clues than to his or her needs." I used my body to block the wind as I eased her back up against the door. Resting a hand on the dip of her waist, I added, "Like...here."

  She shivered when I touched her, but it was nothing compared to how she tensed, then moaned when I dipped my head and pressed my mouth to the arc of her neck a moment later. "You like it when I touched you the first time...but this," I whispered, adding teeth to the touch and feeling her go rigid, then quake against me. "This might not point straight to your G-spot, but it's an arrow pointing in the right direction."

  "You're arrogant," she said, her voice thin and tight.

  "No. I just know how to pay attention." Lifting my head, I held her eyes. "And I'll bet every other man you've been with has been a clueless bag of shit."

  Her eyes widened then, her tongue sliding out to dampen her lips.
r />   I smothered a groan, because if she had any clue how deep the want I had for her went, it was going to scare her to death. She couldn't know that, didn't need to know that.

  "Let me show you how it's supposed to be, Michelle," I said, pressing my mouth to her hair. At the same time, I leaned in and pushed my knee between her thighs, slowly lifting it until the muscles of my upper leg were wedged against the heat at the apex of hers.

  She clamped tight around me, almost from the first.

  I wonder if she realized.

  "I...what?" Her voice shook. "Are you...you can't be talking about what I think you're talking about."

  "It's just sex." No, it's not, a part of me thought. "You can get a first-hand example of what I've told you. Talk about an exclusive."

  "I'm not going to have sex with you just to write a fucking article!" A split second later, her eyes widened. "I didn't just say that."

  I chuckled. "You did, but I'll pretend otherwise if you want. I'll even go so far as to suggest this...have sex with me because you want to. We both want to. Besides, it's just sex, Michelle. A basic human function. There's very little that's more natural than this."

  I caught her hips in my hands and rocked against her, then smiled when she sagged against me. Knowing when to move was a specialty of mine, so I dipped my head and sought out the curve of her neck. "What do you say?"

  Eight

  Michelle

  "I thought you didn't see clients on Valentine's Day," I said, forcing the words out.

  He chuckled, not the least bit offended. "This isn't a client set-up, Michelle. This is you...and me. Are you interested or not?"

  The answer was pretty damn clear. I clung to his shoulders like I didn't plan to ever let go. He had one knee between my thighs, and I was riding him like I didn't ever plan to stop.

  Gee, I wondered what my answer was.

  But he wasn't going to take body language for an answer. His teeth raked a burning trail down my neck, then he kissed his way back up. "Well, sugar?"

  Half-blind, I nodded, not entirely sure what I was getting myself in to, but for once, everything felt...amazing. There was nothing awkward or scary or wrong about this, and I wanted to ride it to the very end.

  If it went bad somewhere along the way, well, it wouldn't be the first time.

  "I'll take that as a yes," Jake said, his mouth closing over mine. I groaned when he used his tongue to tease and gain entrance, then slid it across mine in an erotic dance.

  I was panting by the time he lifted his head, and when he stepped back, I reached for him, not ready for it to end.

  But he simply took my hand. "I've got a room back at the hotel. Will you join me?"

  Some part of my brain clicked on, made me wonder if he'd planned this. And the rest of my brain was thinking...wow.

  If he had, then that meant some part of him must have wanted me...right?

  The walk back to the hotel, logically, only took a couple of minutes.

  It seemed to drag by, but at the same time, the seconds and minutes disappeared quicker than I could handle, and my nerves mounted by the second. Jake, apparently a mind reader as well as a professional at sex, slid his hand down my arm, then twined our fingers.

  "Do you miss Chicago?" he asked, voice friendly and light, as though this was like...well, a real date.

  "Sometimes." Swallowing, I decided to go along. "What about you? Do you miss Texas? What part are you from?"

  "Nowhere you would have heard of, sugar. It's just a speck on the map, about an hour north of Dallas." He lifted his shoulder in an easy shrug, and with a skill that had to have come from practice, he sidestepped and changed the subject back to me. "You said you went to college in Iowa. Why did you pick there?"

  "Because it wasn't in Chicago," I replied.

  By that time, we were back at the hotel and at the elevator. Determined not to talk about me anymore for fear of revealing things I'd rather not reveal, I glanced up at him. "Which floor?"

  A slow smile curled his lips, and I had a feeling he knew exactly what I was doing. My cheeks were flaming, but I'd take this bull by the horns any day before I'd risk talking much more about my past. I'd worked too hard to leave the bits and pieces of it behind me.

  Once we were in the elevator, he swiped his keycard and it started on a trip straight up to the penthouse level. "Nice," I said, smiling at him.

  He crooked a finger at me.

  I took a nervous step toward him, and he caught me by the hips, turning me until I was staring out the glass walls that made up three-quarters of the car. "I've thought about having my hands on you half the night...actually, that's not the truth. I've been thinking about putting my hands on you almost from the second I saw you." He had somehow managed to smooth them inside my coat, resting them on my bare shoulders. They were still chilled from outside and the contact was shocking. Swallowing a gasp, I pressed my lips together to keep from whimpering as he stroked the coat backward and out of the way. "But...there's still time to change your mind."

  Oddly enough, it was hearing those words that reassured me the most.

  "I don't think I want to change my mind," I said softly, the words faintly rough. I felt out of breath, like I'd run a mile or two instead of walked along the sidewalk with him for a block or so out in the cold night air.

  "Good." He kissed me just behind the ear and stepped away.

  I realized the elevator doors had opened, and I turned, facing him. Wow. I was really doing this.

  Seconds blurred away until they didn't even seem to exist, and I was in the room with him before I even really had a chance to process another concrete thought.

  "I've had this thought in my head," Jake murmured as the door closed behind us.

  "What's that?" Was this when he told me that he hadn't been serious? Was this when Gina and Aunt Blair popped out and some raunchy tune started to play, and he started to strip, their idea of an early birthday present?

  "Gina said you're a good girl..." he whispered in my ear. "And I imagine you are, but I think you have one idea in mind. And you're not that type of good girl. That type of good girl doesn't exist."

  "What are you talking about?" I asked, my voice shaking.

  "The type of good girl who thinks sex isn't for them. Good sex, hard sex, fun sex, rough sex, any kind of sex that a woman enjoys is for other women...but not you." He kissed the notch where my collarbones met, then dragged his lips up to kiss me, full on the mouth, the kiss naked and raw and full of lust. "Is that who you think you are, Michelle?"

  "I..."

  Fingers slid under my skirt.

  We still stood at the door. It was closed, but we hadn't moved any farther into the room. I hadn't so much as taken off the long coat I wore or my shoes.

  And he had his hand in my panties.

  I'd worn dark, opaque stockings that were thicker than regular hose in an attempt to keep my legs warm – and they were also sexier than hell – but they were no barrier to that hand that had just dipped inside the waistband of my bikini and I cried out as he circled one finger around my clitoris.

  "Well?" Jake asked, his voice rougher now.

  "Well..." I blinked, not sure what he was talking about at all, then I didn't even realize he was talking or that I needed to be answering him because he'd slid two fingers inside me – just like that. I was wet, and I took him easily, and it felt better than anything I'd ever imagined.

  But then he started to move, pumping those fingers in and out, and I couldn't hardly breathe, and he was still talking to me, telling me that he loved how wet I was, how tight I was and that as soon as I came, he was going to sink his cock inside me.

  "I can't!" I whispered, my voice harsh and ragged. "I...Jake, I don't know how. Not like this."

  "Yes, you do. You're already doing it." He kissed me again, his tongue licking the inside of my mouth like I was made of candy and he had a mad need for sugar. At the same time, he twisted his fingers, scissoring them inside me.

  I.
..felt...all...of it.

  Even when he scraped his thumb over my clitoris. Once. Twice. Three times. The fourth knocked the breath right out of me, and I couldn't even scream. My legs sagged, the strength giving way even though I was trying to ride his hand harder, deeper, desperate for more, more, more...

  Jake was right. I was already doing it. A climax knocked me sideways, and I cried out his name, clutching at his shoulders for support so I didn't collapse right there on the floor of the hotel room.

  He muttered my name against my neck, still stroking me, and a moment later, he pushed something into my hand. "Open this for me, sugar. If I stop touching you, I might cry."

  "I..." Open what?

  He pulled back and eased away, still half supporting me, and I looked down, saw the foil packet in my hand. "Oh."

  Stupid, I thought. I was so stupid not even thinking of protection.

  Blood rushed to my cheeks and my hands fumbled with it as I fought to tear the foil.

  "Better let me put it on, or I'll embarrass myself," Jake said, taking the rubber from me the second it was open.

  More than likely, he was being nice, so I didn't embarrass myself. I didn't know how to put a condom on a guy. I barely knew how to have sex.

  Abruptly, tears stung my eyes, and I looked down, closing my eyes so I couldn't see him.

  "I'm going to fuck you right here, Michelle, with your clothes still on and your back up against the door." His voice came out clipped, almost hard, startling me into looking up at him.

  The second I did, he kissed me again, and I was lost in it, just as I'd been every other time he'd kissed me.

  He boosted me up, and I gasped when the head of his cock pressed against me, but there was no time to prepare myself for what was coming, because it happened almost immediately. He pressed against me, the fat tip slipping, then sliding against me. Then he was inside me, and I groaned at the exquisite fullness. So good.