Read Offensive Behavior (Sidelined #1) Online
Authors: Ainslie Paton
He ran
his hands down her thighs and jerked her closer till he slotted against her but
there was still too much fabric and she was laughing. It broke through his haze
and he snapped his eyes to hers, stilling his hands. He’d fucked this up
somehow.
“I
think we might be better off on the bed. We can do household surfaces when
you’re a little less excited.”
The
only word he understood was bed. He put his shoulder to her middle and picked
her up like a bag of cement. She squealed and her hands went to his back to
hold on. He carried her to the bedroom to the sound of her laughter, to the
rush of heat to his chest and his thighs. He had one objective. All her skin on
all of his, warm, close, tight, wet.
He
dropped her on the bed on her back and stood over her wondering what he was
doing because she was naked now and she was so lovely she couldn’t be for him.
“Come
and get me, Back Booth.”
The sweats
had to vanish. When he slipped them off and looked at her again she said
something about women who’d let him go. He couldn’t concentrate. How did people
have a conversation and sex at the same time? Even if he had words, his mouth
was so dry they’d never make it to his lips. He put a knee to the bed and
reached for her. “Stop talking.”
“Talking
is half the fun of sex.” She put her hand on his thigh and the muscle jumped.
“Can’t
talk, you’re too much.”
“Poor
baby.”
Yes,
everything hurt and he needed the relief of her, so why wasn’t she under him
already.
“It’s
my turn on top.”
“Fuck.”
She
laughed. “Is that a yes or a no?”
He half
tackled her, going to his back and pulling her alongside him. “Jesus, yes,
anything, yes.”
“See,
you can talk. In fact, you swear like a pissed-off bartender when you’re excited.”
He did?
He had her hands in his and she moved her knee across his thighs and sat there.
He watched her look at him. He liked the heat in her eyes but he was leaking
all over his belly and his stomach was a misery of knots he could feel in his tailbone.
“Are
all pole dancers sadists or just you?”
She
bent forward and licked him base to tip and he shouted a curse, his hips
lifting from the bed so sharply when she flickered her tongue around the head, he
nearly dislodged her. And she gave him no chance to recover. She shifted so she
sat over his cock and the slippery heat of her made him groan loudly enough to
wake the upstairs neighbor, and then she moved, letting go his hands to brace
on his ribs, sliding forward and then back.
That
made him grip her ass, curl his torso off the bed to watch. It made him grind
his teeth. And when she increased the pace of her hip rolls and her hair fell over
her face he pushed it back and held it so he could see her bite her lip,
squeeze her eyes shut. He felt her shudder. Could she make herself come like
this? She was incredible, focused on this like she focused on her pole routines.
It would be enough for him if she kept it up, the sight of her working him over
was the best thing he’d ever seen and the friction was mind blowing, till on a
backward hip roll, she caught him at her entrance. He stopped breathing. She froze
there a second and then took him inside.
“Holy
fuck. Zarley. Zarley.”
“Oh you
fill me so good, Reid. So good like this.”
He had
to move. No choice. He tilted his pelvis experimentally and her body rippled. Again
and she folded forward onto his chest. He kissed her forehead and she lifted
her face and then they were kissing, wet, tongues tangled, but he needed to
move again, thrust again and again, meeting the roll of her hips, slapping
their bodies together, faster, faster, more, more.
She
gripped his shoulders and he grasped her ass and he chased that whiteout, that
brain blast zone, and he smashed into it when she tightened all around him,
burying her head in his neck muffling a shout. He came a stroke, two after she
stilled, his groin going tight, electricity crackling up his spine and jolting
right to his head, the pleasure so intense his calves cramped and his hands
fisted before he went limp.
It
might’ve been a century later and neither of them had moved when he said her
name.
She tried
to sit, but he stopped her, wrapped his arms around her. “I want you here.” She
sighed and sank back into him. “You got there.”
She
nodded.
“I felt
it. You liked it?”
She
propped her chin on his chest to look at him. “Now you want to talk.”
He smiled.
“I should shut up?” He’d soften, knew he would slip out of her, didn’t want
that to mean they’d stop being close.
“You
should shut up.” She stretched to kiss him, and he adored these deliberate
kisses that worked like punctuation in a sentence. They stood apart from the ones
he got carried away with and had their own meaning. “It’s much easier to kiss
you when you’re not talking.”
This kiss
meant shut up, but he’d never been one to take advice. He smoothed a hand over
her hair. “Do you want to sleep?” He didn’t; unlike earlier, he was energized
and also hungry.
“I want
round two.”
Expectations
thoroughly exceeded. Best weekend of his life. Hunger could wait. He shut up,
but got busy kissing her, using his hands, finding places on her body she liked
to be touched, licked, squeezed, sucked. Behind her left ear, her left nipple
more than her right, the slope where her neck met her shoulders on both sides.
He
rolled them so they were side by side but pressed together, separated by
nothing but spit and breath and his best intention not to start round two too
soon for her.
“I
loved watching you like that, chasing your own pleasure.”
She
smoothed a finger over his brow. “Once I’ve finished with you you’ll know how
sex works and you never have to feel embarrassed with anyone.”
He grinned
at her, fitting his thumb in the dimple on her lower back and splaying his hand
over her ass.
She
eyed him suspiciously. “What?”
“That
gives me a dilemma.”
“Which
is?”
“If I’m
a good student I’ll learn how to please you. But I don’t want to graduate head of
my class.”
“Why
not?”
“I’d
rather be teacher’s pet. Earn credit for extra classes.”
She
tapped his nose; it made him blink. “You aren’t anywhere near graduation yet.”
He
shook his head. His best concerned expression. “I’m not. No ma’am, I am most
definitely not.”
“You
have much still to learn.” She was trying hard not to smile but it was in her
cheeks and eyes.
“I’m
willing to do anything.”
She
snorted, then composed herself. “There’s sex so wild you break something.”
“That
would be advanced rodeo sex.” He moved his leg so his knee nudged between hers.
“It sounds angry.”
She
hung her arm over his shoulder. “No, no, no, grasshopper. A lamp or a bedhead,
not a limb. Wild, out of control, hot monkey, bad for the furniture sex
shouldn’t be confused with angry sex. Angry sex is take no prisoners.”
“I
don’t have any lamps and angry sex sounds bad.”
She
played with the ends of his hair. Who’d have thought he’d like that. “But it
can be followed by make-up sex.”
“Which
sounds good.”
“Very
good. Then there’s half-asleep, lazy sex.”
“Mmm. I
like the idea of that.” God, if only she’d stay long enough for the novelty of
all of this to wear off so he could feel lazy and half asleep about sex.
“There’s
the quickie. Every room in the house sex. Role playing. Sex with toys. Sex
outside. Landmark sex.
“As in
somewhere famous.”
“Ah-huh.”
He
laughed. “And I was thinking on the back of my bike was adventurous.”
“You
have a bike?” She shifted so she was riding his thigh. “Now I’m thinking about
sex on the back of your bike.”
There
was no helping himself. He palmed her breast, rubbed his thumb over her nipple.
“At your disposal.”
“Hold
that thought.” She watched his thumb move and her hips twitched. She put her
hand to his face, cupped his cheek. “There is sex so tender it makes you never
want to let go of that other person.” She pinched his nose, “And sex so funny
you can barely hold it together to fuck.” She let go his face but licked across
his lips. “Then there’s kinky sex.”
“Wait,
you mean like with—no, what do you mean by kinky?”
She met
his eyes. “It can get very kinky, but despite being an exotic dancer, I’m not
into hanging from the chandelier or wielding a whip.”
“You’re
not?”
“So
we’re clear.” She frowned. “You sound disappointed.”
He
plumped her breast. “I’m not.” He dipped his head and kissed her to punctuate
his lack of a problem with that. “It’s just the idea of you in black leather
with a whip.”
“Reid.”
That
was said to censor, except she pushed her breast into his hand and gripped the
back of his neck.
“You,
in anything or nothing, Zarley. I was your biggest fan before, let’s face it,
I’m totally your groupie now.”
She
laughed. “Well, groupie, kinky for me could be with a blindfold or restraints.”
“Who’s
wearing them, you or me?”
“Either.
Both. Or it could be sex with a third person.”
Brain freeze
without the aid of anything cold. Did she mean another woman? Another man? “Have
you had a threesome?”
“No.”
She
pulled away, turned her back but snuggled into him. She already knew he was
aroused; he couldn’t not grind that arousal into her ass. “But you’re saying—”
“There’ll
be homework.
Talk
about leave a man hanging. “Dang. What kind of homework?” Sex homework. How
could that be a bad thing?
“You
have to work on your fantasies.”
He
kissed her shoulder and cupped her breast. It was Sunday sometime in the early
afternoon. He was naked. In bed with a glorious woman he’d been obsessed with, who’d
been happy to take the lead, initiate him into the world of sex and didn’t make
him feel like he was out of sync. He didn’t need a random fantasy. “This—”
“No. This
was your start. Now you’re in on the game, I want to hear what you dream about,
what would really get you off, but before we get to that, I have an obligation
to continue the basic sexual education of Reid.” She tipped her head back to
look at him. “I don’t know your last name?”
“McGrath.”
“Halveston.”
He
kissed Zarley Halveston and wondered how he’d ever been satisfied to know her
as simply Lux.
She
broke the kiss. “In the continuing sexual education of Reid McGrath, the next
lesson is doggie style.”
He
groaned and clutched her a little tighter. Zarley on her hands and knees on
stage was an impossibly cock-pricking image. He’d never once imagined himself
there with her.
“You’re
going to need to let me get to up for this to work.”
He
hauled her into his body, and in some mad gymnastics move he must have learned
from her by osmosis, he flipped Zarley to her hands and knees and knelt behind
her.
She
turned her head and laughed, then wriggled back and sat over his bent thighs. “I
do like an eager student.”
It was
an automatic response; his hands simply went to her body, scanning her skin, searching
for something that might have changed in the last thirty seconds. Maybe she’d
slipped him a drug, fed it to him on her tongue, painted it on his skin with
her lips, massaged it into his blood stream with her hands. He couldn’t stop
touching her.
She
leaned back into him, her head going to his chest. “There are lots of
advantages to doggie style.”
He could
cup both her breasts this way, explore the soft weight of her, tease both her
nipples. He could—
“Pay
attention, Reid.”
He paid
close attention to how she twitched when he smoothed a hand down her belly and
jerked when he slid his fingers between her legs.
“Oh. Straight
to the top of the class.”
But his
attention span was in serious danger of being stretched so far it snapped when
he slipped a finger inside her, and she ground back against him. Her hair, her smell,
the way she moved, the sounds she made. Was it always like this between two
people who barely knew each other? No wonder men lost their heads over women. If
he’d known this, he’d never have had the presence of mind, the focus, to build
Plus.
Maybe he
could make her come this way. He wanted to, but it wasn’t enough, he was greedy,
and she was his consolation prize. He withdrew his fingers and put a hand to
her back, easing her forward onto her hands, running his up her legs and over
her pert muscular ass. The advantages of doggie were tactile and rudely
demanding. He couldn’t not stare at her bared to him like this. He couldn’t not
put his thumb to her clit and roll it.