Liar, Liar, Heart's Desire Page 11

  Her breath suddenly went shallow. Something was building inside her. When it hit critical mass, she wouldn’t be able to contain it.

  In the kitchen, the microwave dinged. Jada could come back through the living room any second.

  “Is that it?” A gentle pressure on her clit. As if he couldn’t speak without doing something to drive her crazy. “You like it but you don’t want anyone to know.”

  A sensation like a kaleidoscope of colors washed over her skin. “I-I-I don’t.”

  “You don’t what? Like it? Or want anyone to know? Is it the risk that turns you on?” His finger brushed her clit. “Are you afraid someone will find out you actually like sex?”

  She wanted to say more, but her brain was no longer sending clear messages to her tongue and it came out garbled.

  His chest vibrated with silent laughter against her back.

  “Cleo?” Jada stood near the doorway to the kitchen.

  The rhythmic pressure Alec had been treating Cleo to never let up. She made a noise she hoped passed for acknowledgement.

  Jada said something. The only words Cleo caught were “tomorrow” and “practice.”

  Cleo tried to focus her eyes, but Jada seemed to be standing a long ways away. “’Kay,” she said, hoping that was an appropriate response.

  “Okay,” Jada echoed with finality, as though they’d reached some agreement, and started up the stairs. “Goodnight.”

  Cleo rolled her lips into her mouth. The internal pressure was close to redlining, and she feared she might scream. One hand still grasped Alec’s wrist. The other lay on his thigh. The fingers of both hands curled, the nails digging into his flesh.

  He hissed in a breath near her ear.

  When he licked the rim of her ear and murmured something in Spanish, she barely heard Jada’s door close.

  A second later, she flew into a million pieces. The only piece that stayed earthbound was her mouth because Alec had clamped a hand over it when the scream started.

  She came back from ecstasy slowly. Half a step behind came a hot rush of shame.

  “What’s wrong?” Alec asked.

  “Nothing. That was wonderful.”

  “Then why does it suddenly feel like I’m holding a marble statue?”

  Of course he felt it. How could he not with her all but lying full-length on top of him? She did her best to relax her muscles.

  “I thought you had a good time just now,” he said.

  She pushed herself up to sit between his legs, pulling her clothes straight as she did, and hid her face in her hands. “Oh hell.” If she hadn’t already been upset, having that come out sounding all sobby would have gotten her there.

  He sat up behind her and folded his arms around her. “Cleo, what’s wrong?”

  Why couldn’t he be like other men and just pat himself on the back for a job well done? Did he always have to talk about everything?

  “Cleo, sweetheart, tell me what’s wrong.”

  “Oh God, Alec. I am so screwed up.”

  “Hey, turn around here so we can talk.”

  She shook her head. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  But he reached around her and hooked a hand under her knees and turned her in spite of her protest. “Talk to me anyway.”

  She leaned her head against his chest, so he couldn’t see her face. “Why can’t I be like other people?”

  He smoothed her hair. “You don’t want to be like other people. They’re boring.”

  She gave a watery laugh. Boring sounded wonderfully normal.

  “C’mon. What’s got you so upset?”

  Well, what the hell. If she really wanted to never have sex with him again the way she kept insisting to herself, telling him the truth would certainly accomplish that. She took a deep breath. “I’m terrible at sex.”

  He made a noise in his throat that sounded suspiciously like suppressed laughter. “I hadn’t noticed that.”

  “It’s true. I don’t . . . I don’t get turned on by normal stuff.”

  “What are you talking about? Are you saying you faked it just now?” The laughter was gone from his voice, but he sounded more concerned than angry.

  “No. That wasn’t fake. I . . . I just . . .”

  “It’s okay. Take your time. We’ll get through this.”

  The last thing she wanted was to spend all night discussing this. She didn’t want to talk about it at all, but if she had to, she’d rather get it over with. “I’m not saying what you did wasn’t working, but . . . when Jada walked in on us . . . it was, I don’t know. It supercharged it.”

  He was silent for what seemed a very long time. Finally, he said, “So what you’re upset about is that you have a little kink going on?”

  “Oh God.” There it was. The label that confirmed she was her mother’s daughter.

  “That’s what’s got you so upset?”

  “I’m such a hot mess that I’m”—she had to force the word out of her mouth—“kinky. Wouldn’t that upset most people?”

  “Is that such a horrible thing to be?”

  Hadn’t he understood what she’d said? “But that . . . getting turned on because someone else was in the room . . .” She swallowed hard over what felt like a knot of embarrassment in her throat. “That’s not . . . normal.”

  “That depends who you talk to.”

  He was wrong. She didn’t know how to argue her case, but she knew he was wrong.

  His chest inflated as though he was preparing to impart wisdom. “Do you know how most people define kinky?”

  She shook her head.

  “Most people define kinky as whatever they won’t do,” he said.

  “What do you mean?”

  “They define ‘normal’ as whatever they do in their sex life. Whatever that is. It could involve hanging from the chandelier while getting a blowjob from a nine-foot-tall circus freak, but because they do it, it’s normal. On the other hand, anything they don’t do, that’s what’s kinky. For them. For some people, anything beyond the missionary position is kinky.”

  She couldn’t help smiling at the image he’d painted, but she kept her head pressed to his chest. “I guess you’re not one of those people.”

  He kissed her hair. “Neither are you, chica.”

  She couldn’t help wishing, though, that what turned her on only involved two people. That wouldn’t be so bad. “But what other deviant things are going to turn me on? Where does it stop?”

  He drew back, lifting her chin with his fingers, so she had to look at him. “It stops wherever you want it to. It’s not as if you have to run out and find an orgy to get turned on.”

  “But I’m kinky.” She should have suspected it. Maybe she had. After all, she was Annaliese’s daughter.

  “So? Most people are a little kinky even if they won’t admit it.”

  “Sure they are,” she said sarcastically.

  His mouth twisted as though he thought she was being difficult on purpose. His hand dropped from her face. “I didn’t tell you about my interview with Liz.”

  That was it? He was ready to change the subject?

  She should be glad to leave behind the topic of how screwed up she was—she hadn’t wanted to talk about it in the first place—but it sort of annoyed her he thought he could smooth everything over so easily and move on. Still, it was better than plumbing the depths of her fucked-up sexuality. She should take it for the gift it was.

  “Did you know they had an open marriage?” he asked.

  She pulled back, so she could look him in the eye. “Is that what she’s claiming?”

  “You find that unbelievable?”

  “Yes. Men like Sebastian . . . Men with power, they don’t like to share.”

  “Hm.”

  “You don’t believe her, do you?” she asked.

  “I’m not sure. My gut’s with you about powerful men. They like owning things, but that’s a generalization. Another part of me says men like Sebastian don’t feel com
pelled to play by the same rules as everyone else. They get jaded. They have power and money; they start feeling like things come too easily, including their choice of women. The same-ol’-same-ol’ stops doing it for them.”

  “Well, that part might be true. I’ll grant you Sebastian wasn’t faithful. That’s common knowledge, but turning a blind eye about his wife’s infidelities?” She shook her head. “That doesn’t fit.”

  “It might be part of the kink. I knew a guy when I was interning in DC. He and his wife were in ‘the lifestyle.’”

  “Eww.” The way he said it made it clear what he meant. And then she realized he hadn’t moved on to another topic at all. This was his way of backing into the subject.

  He laughed. “Yeah. It never made sense to me either. I mean, I’m not a prude, but I couldn’t do it. Too territorial, I guess. I don’t think I’d ever find it a turn on to watch some other guy going at it with my wife.”

  “Eww,” Cleo said again. She might be fucked up, but she didn’t think she was that fucked up “He watched?”

  “Said it was the hottest thing he ever saw.”

  “I’m not sure I want to meet your friends.”

  “I said I knew him. I didn’t say we were friends.”

  “Did he ever . . . invite you . . . ?

  “To play with them? Yeah. I was almost tempted. His wife was hot.”

  “You were only almost tempted?”

  “Okay, yes. I was tempted. If it hadn’t involved him being in the room, I’d have thought about it for more than five seconds. My point is, it’s not as uncommon as you think. There are actually websites that cater to that kind of swinging. Websites with private chatrooms, so you can set up meetings and recruit new members for your ‘club.’”

  “They have clubs?” Why was she shocked? She’d overheard some bizarre things growing up around showgirls, but even the most bizarre had mostly been single incidents. Nothing that prepared her for the idea that this sort of thing was as organized as a Rotary Club meeting. That was just gross. “Have you ever . . .?”

  “No. I told you. I’m too territorial.”

  “But Jada in the room . . . That’s not that much different.”

  “It’s worlds different, chica.”

  “Were you . . . turned on by it?”

  “I was turned on because you were turned on. If you’ll recall, I encouraged you.”

  He had. He’d egged her on, pushing her to a place where she couldn’t deny that having a sexy secret created a major buzz. “So it doesn’t bother you that I . . .?”

  “Not even a little.”

  She still wasn’t sure she was okay with being so turned on because Jada had been in the room, but Alec’s non-judgmental attitude made her think she might get there. As long as she didn’t develop any other weird fetishes.

  “So besides having sex with a woman while her husband watches, what do you consider kinky?”

  He grinned at her. “Whatever I won’t do.”

  Chapter 11

  The movie had ended while they were talking. Cleo flipped the TV to a local station to catch the news. They were past the top stories, so whatever might have been said about Sebastian’s death and Annaliese’s arrest was already over.

  As they moved to the local weather forecast—overcast and even possible rain for tomorrow—Alec shifted and tugged on his jeans at the inside of his thigh.

  What was wrong with her? Well, besides the obvious that she was the most selfish sex partner in the world. She’d gotten so caught up in herself and her stupid hang ups she hadn’t even thought about the position she’d left him in.

  That stops now.

  She picked up the remote and turned off the TV.

  “Why’d you do that?” he asked.

  Instead of answering, she grabbed his hand and pushed herself off the couch. “Come on.”

  “Where’re we going?” he asked as she towed him behind her.

  “To fulfill a few fantasies.”

  “Oh.” His smile was there in his voice.

  She pulled him into the bedroom, shut the door behind them, and left him standing at the foot of the bed while she flipped on a bedside lamp. Returning to him, she gave his shoulders a sharp shove that toppled him backward onto the bed.

  His eyes gleamed and his grin looked like it would take a blowtorch to remove.

  “Scoot up,” she said.

  Still grinning, he levered himself backward on his elbows.

  She put one knee on the bed, grabbed the bottom of her shirt, and stripped it off over her head.

  “Aw. And it’s not even my birthday,” he said.

  His face was going to freeze with that silly grin on it.

  She put her finger to her lips. “Sh.”

  He watched closely as she slid her fingers under the waistband of her sweats. Just for the pleasure of watching him watch her, she gave a little shimmy as she slid them slowly down over her hips.

  He drew a ragged breath.

  And then she was naked while he lay on the bed still fully clothed.

  Being naked always made her feel a little vulnerable, especially when she was the only one. She felt a twinge of that now, but the way he was looking at her, drinking her in with his eyes, made a sense of power swell inside her as well.

  “You are so beautiful,” he said softly.

  Emboldened but still a little nervous, she lifted one foot to the bed, shifting her hips forward slightly, displaying her most intimate parts. Where she found the courage was a mystery.

  The smile dropped off his face to be replaced by a look of pure lust.

  Her clit throbbed once, then again.

  She hadn’t realized what heady stuff power could be. Addictive, really. His gaze locked on as she ran her fingers lightly up the thigh of her bent leg. She fingered the barbell piercing and, for the first time, felt as if she were the kind of woman who should wear intimate jewelry. Slowly, she traced a line across her stomach and up the slope of her breast to her nipple. Pausing here, straying there, almost touching this, brushing that.

  His eyes stayed zeroed in on the path her fingers took as though he couldn’t look away.

  Cupping her breast in one hand, she lifted the other hand to her mouth.

  His attention snapped up.

  Who was this woman who was brazen enough to close her lips around her finger then draw it slowly out? It couldn’t be her using that shiny, wet finger to moisten her nipple. She didn’t do things like that.

  But apparently, with the right man, she did.

  And she liked it. Even more, she loved the way he looked at her when she did it.

  “Cleo, you’re killing me. Come here.”

  Not yet. “Unzip your pants.”

  With urgent movements, he fumbled with the snap then unzipped, hiked his hips off the bed, and shoved his pants down. His erection sprang free.

  She grabbed the hemmed edges and pulled them down while he skinned off his shirt and tossed it across the room.

  “Now come here, woman.”

  She gave him what she hoped was a seductive smile and crawled onto the bed, approaching slowly in her best predator imitation.

  As she came level with his groin, he reached down and stroked her face. She turned into his hand and caught his index finger between her teeth.

  His cock jumped as he hissed in a breath.

  Her nipples were so tight it was nearly painful not having him touch them, but she wasn’t ready to give up being in control. When she sucked his finger into her mouth, his breath hitched.

  She released it and swiped her tongue up its length.

  A shudder wracked his body.

  Tilting her head down to she could look at him through her lashes, she gave him a Mona Lisa smile. His chest rose in shallow breaths, the air moving through parted lips.

  She looked down at his erection. “What do we have here?” She flashed him an innocent look. “Do you think I should explore this?”

  “Yes. Please.”

&n
bsp; Like he could stop her at this point.

  She lowered her head and licked the slit in his penis.

  A faint moan made her look up. His eyes were closed under brows drawn together as though he was concentrating with all his might.

  Fine. Let him concentrate on this.

  She took him in her mouth, sliding down on him until he reached her throat.

  He rewarded her with a strangled noise.

  Giving head had never really been something she enjoyed, but it was different with him. If it pleased him—and it clearly did—she wanted to do it. She sucked as she pulled back, and his hips left the bed as though she was drawing him with her. She fought off a smile and went to work with a will, wanting more than anything to do this one thing better than anyone he’d ever known.

  He let out a long, shuddering breath. “God, Cleo. That feels . . .”

  Apparently, the man who talked a blue streak in bed couldn’t find the words to describe how it felt.

  She massaged his balls, now drawn up tight, as she took him again and again and again.

  He muttered something in Spanish then reached down and hooked his hands under her arms. Before she knew it, she was underneath him, and he was reaching across her to the nightstand. He jerked hard on the drawer, nearly pulling it out of its slot, reached in, and came back with a condom.

  He ripped open the foil wrapper with his teeth then went up on his knees and sheathed himself in one swift, no-nonsense move.

  “You,” he growled, looking down at her, “are about to have the ride of your life.”

  She couldn’t tell if that was a promise or a threat. Either way, his words sent a thrill of anticipation through her.

  He lowered himself onto his heels, pulled her onto his thighs, then with one hand, guided himself into position. Poised to enter her, he looked up to meet her eyes. “I am going to make you come like nothing you’ve ever imagined.”

  His words made her shiver. “You already have. This was supposed to be for you.”

  “No, babe. This is for us. Both of us.” He stroked across her piercing, and the shivery sensation broke through, racing across her skin.

  He looked down at where he was pressed against her.