An Accidental Gentleman (15 page)

The real joy of a blowjob: power. Hers over him. Her ability to command his entire body on the point of her tongue. In the firm suction of her lips. All of his desire focused on her, and he had no say in what she’d choose to do about it. Satisfy him or leave him hanging.

She took him deeper, in steady strokes, his gaping pants tickling her chin. No man would ever control her. But as he laid his hand against her head, resting his palm in her hair, she burned with the unprecedented urge to order him to pull harder. Her body tightened, a twisting screw catching hold, as she imagined a bossy Brian.

With her hand slipped between his thighs, she cupped his balls and squeezed.

He bucked into her mouth. “Fuck, Katherine. I’m—you’re—fuck.”

Heart racing, she pulled back. Too close to gagging. Or to coming herself. He’d gone deep, and the thrill tingled like fingers on her clit.

Palming her cheek, he trembled. “Fuck, did I hurt you?”

She covered his hand and dragged him back into her hair. “Don’t you dare apologize. Just hold on tight.”

Letting him go, she bent her head. She’d brought him to the edge. This time, she’d push him over. With one hand to hold him, so she wouldn’t have to stop no matter how enthusiastic he got. He’d damn well better be enthusiastic. Hell if she’d be the lone participant enjoying this blowjob.

He gripped her hair. Tight, not tentative, thank God. He didn’t push, but he held on.

Perfect. She swallowed his cock. The salt flowed faster, stronger. She’d taste all of him in a minute. She sped up her strokes. Soon he’d surrender in this contest of wills. Nice-guy Brian would be her bad boy, coming in her mouth and spilling over her lips because she was impossible to resist.

* * * *

A lifeline, her hair in his fist. Auburn and shimmering under the lights, Katherine rose and fell with the beauty of the sun setting across the lake. Enticing, luring him to paddle out to meet her, to dive into her glowing fire and lose himself.

Fuck, she’d nearly made him come already, the way she wrapped herself around him. Kneeling between his thighs and bending over his dick. Her tank top dipped, and her breasts flashed between light and shadow. Her mouth gleamed, her lips impossibly wet.

She treated him like a dessert she meant to devour down to the last spoonful and lick the bowl after. Amazing. An amazing woman he wanted to see again. Every night. Every morning. To lie naked in bed with her and roll over and kiss her mouth—

Hips jerking, he tugged her hair. “I’m almost—”

Christ Jesus, fuck, she worked her tongue up his shaft and moaned, fucking
moaned
as if she might come when he did.

Choice. He ought to say something before he got too far gone to warn her. “You don’t have to sw—”

With a hard, fiery stare and a slow, deliberate suck, she silenced him.

So goddamn gorgeous. Bold. Unflinching. She spread her arms across his hips and held him down with her weight. One hand clamped around his dick, she lowered her mouth to meet her knuckles again and again. Watching him, fuck-fuck-fuck, watching him while she swallowed him down and dared him to come.

Heat rushing through his cock, he gave in. His hips bucked. His eyes tried to close, and he forced them open. He refused to lose Katherine, to deny his connection to her. Their gazes locked as she drank from him.

Fuck, he loved her.

He slammed his teeth shut on that confession. Best case, she’d take it for the addled ramblings of a post-orgasm mind. Worst case, she’d throw his picnic at him and order him out the door.

Lifting her head, she gave an exaggerated swallow and licked her lips. “My show, my rules. If I wanted you to come somewhere else, I would’ve handled the arrangements.”

Her smile said she’d won something, but no obvious answer presented itself. He’d gotten to come, for one thing, and she’d agreed to his condition for another date. Two wins for him. And fuck, she gave a fucking fantastic blowjob. How many men had she practiced—

He shoved the worrisome flicker aside. Whoever she’d been with before, however many, didn’t matter. She was with him now. Wasn’t she?

“Lady’s choice, that’s fair.” Hell, she could pick where he finished as often as she liked. He unknotted his fingers and stroked her hair, his aching knuckles welcoming the stretch. He’d taken control with most of the women he’d spent a night with, but sharing the lead with Katherine heightened the excitement. “Do your rules let me do something for you, too?”

He wouldn’t be a gentleman if he didn’t ask, but he’d thrown the question out there because his mouth watered for her. The salty tang of her on his tongue and the strength in her thighs clamping around his face when she lost control. Even though reciprocating might be moving too fast for his own rules. She wanted his desire without the emotional ball of wax.

She knelt between his thighs, her weight no longer balanced on her arms across his hips. With a speculative tilt to her head, she slipped her gaze sideways.

If she pushed for sex, he might lack the strength to say no. He needed to hold back enough to keep her interested in the rest while she grew comfortable with the whole not-just-fucking, long-term love they deserved together.

Scooting free of his legs, she shook her head. “Not tonight.”

A-fucking-men. The sad twist of his tongue for the lost opportunity didn’t sour the air-guitar and drum-frenzy cranking out solos in his head. She hadn’t said no—she’d said not tonight.

As in, on another night, the answer might be yes. Because they’d have another night. More chances to demonstrate her importance to him and lead her deeper into the big, scary sea of coupledom.

“A hug at least?” He crooked his finger and his smile, aiming for a light tease. A snuggle those bad boys of hers wouldn’t deliver. “Have you seen my arms? I hide ’em well in my sleeves, but they’ve got some serious power.”

“Yeah, I’ve felt your grip, tough guy.” Chuckling, she ducked her head and smoothed down her hair. She stretched out alongside him. “Peak performance.”

An encore would be in order if she threw out more compliments. Fuck, what he wouldn’t give to kiss her right now, roll her under him and eat her for dessert until his dick returned to mission-ready status.

He managed a one-armed hug. Landed a kiss on her temple, maybe because she hadn’t expected the move. She hadn’t avoided him like she had when he’d gone in for a true kiss the first night.

She squirmed away after a few minutes. Not close enough for snuggling, but maybe she’d never been an afterglow kind of woman. Her emotional progress would be measured in fractions of an inch.

The foot of space between them would have to stand, tonight. He raised his hips and wrestled his clothes back into place. As she lay on her side, facing away and propped on her good arm, he risked a graze against her back. “So, where are you taking me on our not-a-date Saturday?”

“Unh-uh, nope.”

The tease in her voice held his heart suspended. If she backed out on the deal—

“You surprised me with this picnic thing.” Craning her neck, she rolled toward him. “I’m not telling what I’ve got planned for you.” Her sparking eyes challenged him while her barely-there smile seemed half-shy. “But dress down. I’ll pick you up.”

A dare. If he dismissed the instincts barking at him to command the situation and instead let her take control again. Made himself the one who waited and wondered, who got picked up at his door and whisked off on an adventure. Probably a place out in the boonies where she wouldn’t run into anyone she knew, folks who might fuss at her about having a boyfriend. Hell. One step closer to a true date. Stealth mission. Whatever Katherine needed to feel comfortable with him for more than one night.

“I got no problem with that.” He shrugged, putting effort into nonchalance. “Your show, your rules.”

Idling outside Brian’s swanky apartment complex, Kit texted him from the driver’s seat of her sister’s beater.

Tonight wasn’t a date, so why pretend with door-knocking formalities and all. Brian would tag along to her usual Saturday, same as she’d hitched a ride on his afternoon softball wagon last week.

His return text chimed back.
On my way.

Good. If he’d been Perry, she would’ve honked at him to get his ass moving. Of course, Perry rented an attic apartment from an elderly couple downtown who let him play handyman in exchange for cheaper rent. No chance a hundred people would peek through the curtains on their fancy windows and ask about the unmannered trash waiting in the driveway. And being friends since elementary school bicycle-fixing days granted a lot of leeway.

Brian emerged in jeans and a black T-shirt with a faded white logo. Thank God he’d taken her fashion advice to heart. White-collar office jockeys stood out in a crowd of farm boys and gearheads.

As he strode down the sidewalk, she leaned over and popped open the passenger door. The finicky outside latch remained on the list of unfinished projects.

Swinging into the seat, he ducked toward her.

Jesus God, he meant to kiss her.

He froze, reversed course, and yanked the door shut. Coughing, he palmed his still-patchy beard. “Hey.”

“Hey.” She let him skate on the near-miss. Thinking he’d kiss her like a date would. No, worse than a date, a boyfriend, because a date waited until the end of the night to lean in for a kiss. Habit for him. Nice guys trained for serious girlfriends, not random hookups. “Seat belt, mister.”

He buckled up as she backed out. His shirt celebrated some band from before her time. “Vintage tee?”

“You know it.” He drummed his knees and rapped the dash. “Saw them play in my bad-boy days. Sixteen. Didn’t breathe a word to my folks.”

“Illicit road trip?” She hesitated at the turn. Left would take them to the night she had planned. Beers and gears. Right could lead anywhere. Keep driving until they ran out of road and she spilled out all the things that scared her, the dreams she’d never live, the terrifying happiness she maybe wanted to grab hold of with Brian and not let go.

She turned left.

Oblivious, Brian nodded along with the rock on the radio. “Seven of us crammed in somebody’s grandma’s Caddy, a real old boat, skipping out of town to catch them play. Around the lake to Chicago. Three-hour drive. We sneaked back in as dawn hit.”

Laughing, she steered them down the highway. Green-light luck stayed with them. Less than ten minutes to the track. “Perry’s gonna love you.”

“Perry?” Brian flashed deer-in-headlights at her before he wiped his face blank and chased it with an insincere smile. “You’re not setting me up for a blind date with one of your girlfriends, are you?”

Oh God. She pounded her palm against the steering wheel to stop herself from punching him in the shoulder. “You think I’m so scared of dating you that I’d pawn you off on a friend? And I’d tell her what, ‘Meet Brian. I’ve road-tested his dick with my mouth, and I think you’ll be very satisfied’?”

He jerked in the seat. “Shit, you’re right, that was a stupid—let me pull my head out of my ass and my foot out of my mouth—”

“You must be built like a pretzel.”

“—and start over.” He cleared his throat, fake-fluffed his hair, and turned toward her with an evening-news anchor smile. “So, is Perry a friend of yours?”

“My buddy.” Closer to brother. Bonded for life with welding torches and countersunk bolts. “He’s an A-1 mechanic and a concert fiend. He crews for one of the local boys who runs hobby stock. He’ll get us into the pits. You ever been to the dirt track?”

“Nope.” Brian stretched his legs as far as the car let him go, which left his knees riding the glove box. Cracking his knuckles, he pushed back in the seat. “Dirt track virgin here.”

His warm tease curled around her like an arm across her shoulders. Fuck, she’d shaved her legs to the top in case he loosened his nuts and agreed to some real sex. A taste of backseat action. The bulge in his jeans suggested he was toying with the same idea.

Pulling into the sports park, she played off her excitement with a laugh. “Don’t worry. I’ll be gentle when I pop your cherry.”

* * * *

“I’m gonna hold you to that.” He’d pop a seam if he didn’t stop teasing with her. “Save the rough stuff for after we know our way around the curves.”

Fuck, he failed at following his own advice. As she drove through the gate, her skinny jeans and tank top clung to the places his hands ought to be. Especially when she introduced him to some dude whose name made her smile.

“Don’t sell yourself short.” With an underhand grip on the wheel, she turned in and snagged an open space. Her flexing forearm revealed a long stretch of pale, freckle-dotted skin in need of kisses and caresses. “You know your way around a few nice curves.”

Maybe this Perry guy did, too. Kit didn’t give much weight to sex—to fucking. She might have slept with her concert-loving mechanic buddy. But she didn’t make friends with those guys after. Claimed not to drink from the same well twice.

She hopped out of the car. “C’mon, slowpoke. The time trials are already running. You hear ’em?”

The low-pitched buzz settled in his bones as he climbed from the passenger seat.

She came around and gave the door an extra bump with her hip. “Has trouble keeping a tight grip.”

Not like its owner. She’d clamped around his fingers when she came, fierce and shaking, in the back of the shop. And her mouth, fuck, her lips wrapped around him and her fiery eyes danced when she owned him at their picnic. His cock begged for a repeat. Bad idea on his hard-won date night. Ten minutes at her side, and he needed to turn down the heat.

He spun and scanned their surroundings, the grandstand, lawn seats, and chain-link fencing plonked in the middle of tall grass meadows. Looking anywhere but at irresistible Katherine. The parking lot sat mostly full. “Popular place.”

“Uh-huh. Let’s get a move on.” She grabbed his hand and pulled. Her low-heeled boots gave her a touch of height on him, and her pursed lips shone with a hint of glossy red. “We can watch a few races before we visit Perry.”

Hand-holding. In public. Holy fucking—he lurched forward, near about to lose his balance, as she dragged him along between the cars. Two quick steps saved him from a world of embarrassment. The gleam in her eye, the giggle slipping free of her mouth if he’d had to explain that one?