Taming His Tutor (Entangled Brazen) (8 page)

To him she did. She shivered, about to come. But she didn’t want to yet. She reached down to touch him, to draw him up. She needed all of him now. She couldn’t go another orgasm without him inside her. “Please.”

“When I’m ready.” He moved up her body, and closed his mouth around her nipple, allowing his teeth to graze the tight nub again.

She ran her hands over his shoulders, barely getting the pleasure of the breadth of him before he pulled away long enough to reach into his nightstand.

He pulled out a condom and rolled it on. It felt like forever.

“Joe.” A whisper, a plea, she ran her hand over his back.

“Yeah.” He moved into position quickly, braced above her, his cock pressing against her entrance. “You’re so wet. You’re ready.”

She was more than ready.

“And so am I,” he groaned. “I’m so ready for this.”

She swept her hands down his sides, feeling the breadth of his torso taper to his narrow waist. So hot, so hard. She gripped his hips and kept her eyes locked on his face. She wanted to savor this, to read his expression, to know if getting this close felt as good for him as it did for her.

Slowly he flexed, pushing into her.

Oh fuck.
Abbi inhaled deeply and gazed into his suddenly tense face.

“You’re tight.” He huffed out a breath.

She spread her legs wider, aching for him to thrust all the way and fill her the way she knew he was going to—
completely
.

He groaned as he pulled back.

“Don’t stop.” She stilled.

“No.” Slowly he drove a half-inch farther into her before pausing again. “So gorgeously tight.”

But he was there.
So incredible
.

Her whole body clenched in delight; she trembled and squeezed down on him.

“Fuck.” He closed his eyes, his forehead creasing as if he were in pain. “Don’t do that. Not yet.”

But she did.
He
felt too good.

His eyes flashed open, boring into hers. “Do it again and I’ll stop.”

With a struggle, she relaxed her muscles. Breathing hard.

He too huffed out another long, harsh breath. “You feel fantastic.”

“So do you.” She gulped.

He pushed again, harder. Abbi wrapped her arms around his back, quivering as she fought the urge to clamp down on him—she’d come if she did.

But she wanted to feel him thrusting hard and wild and out of control and at the point of orgasm himself.

Then
she’d come again.

“Good.” His word was muffled as he slammed his lips over hers.

She opened and he thrust his tongue into her hungry mouth. Pleasure engulfed her, more so as she tasted his groan. But then he broke the seal.

Desperate, she arched, writhing beneath him. She needed more.

“That’s it. Move with me,” he whispered.

At his powerful stroke she clamped—couldn’t help the reaction as he filled her. She felt his length hit the top of her cervix. A pleasure pain. She breathed out and relaxed for a second before the second stroke hit. Harder. Even deeper.

Her fingers curled into his shoulder.

Joe.

He was so much more than she’d ever imagined he’d be. In body, in force, in person. In
soul
.

So much better. And she’d never felt as fantastic, never been held as close. Never as filled. Never as free.

She threw back her head and let herself fall into his rhythm.

Tighten, release, tighten, release.

Close. Closer. Closer still.

Their dance quickened, so good she wondered if maybe she was delirious. If maybe she was dreaming this whole thing.

But not even her imagination could come up with pleasure this extreme.

And he was too huge, too powerful, too damn demanding not to be real. So vibrant, so virile…and so vigorous she was going to feel the effects of his possession for days.

And she was going to revel in that.

“Abbi,” he growled as she tensed on him again.

She lifted her chin, opened her dazed eyes, and smiled at him delightedly. “I told you I’d been working out.”

…

“You’re too strong.” Joe narrowed his eyes.

If she did that again his eyes were gonna roll back in his head and that was the last thing he wanted. He wanted to see her in his moment—looking up at him like that. All flushed and aroused and willing. And his.

She felt so fucking good.

If she wanted to get her vixen on, fine by him. But ultimately, this was where it was at. She could dare and tease and try it on. But it would always end up like this—with him deep inside her. With her welcoming him. And what a welcome.

That
was what he wanted.

He’d had to flip it—seeing her hesitate when she’d first gone astride him? Seeing the passion leach from her eyes as doubts crept in? He couldn’t let that happen; he’d had to take charge. And fuck him if it hadn’t been the best idea ever. Turned out she responded most to him taking charge.

How the hell could she think she wasn’t an equal participant?

But the way she’d clamped so tight on his finger when he’d pushed inside her was nothing compared to the sensations pouring through him now.

Her big breasts were flattened against his chest, her body a heated satin cushion. And her pussy like a vise on his aching cock. She clenched on him again and again like she was trying to milk him every time he thrust deeper.

So he couldn’t stop thrusting.

Vixen, all right.

When he shifted his position slightly, pushing against her at a different angle, the little trickster wriggled her hips and kept up her feminine assault on him. Like she didn’t want to let him go ever.

And he was losing. Losing and loving it.

How the hell could she think she was bad at this? How could any guy tell her that bullshit? Momentarily angered, he grasped her wrists again, pulled her arms up above her head, pushing them deep into the mattress. Driving closer still.

Her moans were music to him. The flush in her cheeks deepened; her wide eyes were glazed and fixed on him.

“This is so fucking good, Abbi. Got that? So. Fucking. Good.” He emphasized his point literally.

There was no finesse anymore. This was an out-and-out fucking. A fast fight in which he thrust as deep as he could, as hard as he could, over and over and over. And she met him stroke for stoke, her lush hips lifting, her inner walls clenching. Until sweat dampened her beautiful hair and her skin was rose-kissed all over.

Until he couldn’t hold back the wave of pleasure any longer.

“Come,” he almost snarled at her. “Come for me.
With
me.”

Her neck arched and just as he heard her scream, he felt her heated sheath contract around him. Fuck, he had no control against this. He roared in satisfaction as he thrust deeply twice more, coming hard. His orgasm so insanely intense he had to close his eyes and try to remember how to breathe.

She’d wrung him dry. And at the same time that feeling flooded him—unutterable relief. Sweet serenity filled his bones.

He dropped onto her, unable to move even though he knew he was too heavy. But he didn’t want to leave his heavenly pillow just yet. Didn’t want to withdraw from the woman who’d just wiped him out.

He still had her wrists in his grip. Satisfaction charged through him again, the feeling of pleasure greater than any victory he’d had on the court.

He finally had the girl who’d starred in his hot teen dreams right where he wanted her.

And it was so much better than any damn fantasy.

Chapter Nine

“Definitely don’t act needy. Never ask, ‘Do I look fat in this?’ or similar questions.”

“So.” Abbi felt her blush growing but made herself continue. “How was it for you?”

“You really have to ask?” Joe rolled onto his side, amusement in his eyes. “You want to do a postmortem on that?”

She nodded, determined to carry on. “An analysis, yes. Isn’t that why I’m here? To learn what works and what doesn’t? It’ll make the app better.”

“An analysis…the app,” he echoed softly and closed his eyes momentarily. “Of course.”

“Don’t mock me.” She so had to remember this was just an experiment. This was helping her personally, sure, but it was also for work. And she could keep it on that emotionless level, right?

“I’m not.” He swiftly rolled back into place—above her. “I’m happy to analyze.” He lifted up and resettled between her thighs. “So how was it for you?”

OMG, she was hot again already. Having him there? Over her? Gazing down at her? Asking after her? Probing? “That’s not—”

“It’s totally relevant. If you’re not having a good time, then how can I? That’s a huge part of sex.
Mutual
pleasure.”

“I had a good time,” she said softly. She was having a good time now too. Having him this close was the most exquisite experience of her life.

“So did I.” He reached out and stroked a strand of hair from her face. “You’ve been sleeping with the wrong kind of guys, sweetheart.” He drew in a deep breath. “You need someone strong.”

Abbi frowned. Strong like dominant strong? She shook her head. “Scott tried…”

“Tried what?”

“Tying me up once.” She flushed and shifted a little beneath him. But there was no escaping him.

“Didn’t do it for you?” A frown pulled his brows. “He hardly ever made you come, did he?” He read the answer in her silence and growled. “What did you see in the guy?”

Well, Scott had liked her for who she was. Or she’d thought he had. She’d thought he’d seen past her quiet exterior. He’d been delighted when she’d eventually stripped for him and he’d seen her breasts. But then. He’d wanted things she hadn’t wanted.

She’d tried to be more sexually forward with him. She’d wanted things to be amazing between them. But shortly after their first time together—yet long enough after they’d met that she’d thought herself in love with him—he started criticizing her. Picking her apart.
Everything
about her apart, now that she looked back on it.

She’d worn sexy costumes for him. He made passive-aggressive comments about the way they looked on her. She’d agreed to watch porn with him. He made digs about how she wasn’t doing it like the women on the screen.

She agreed to be tied up. Only it
so
hadn’t turned her on and Scott said lube was for bad lovers. How had she managed to screw up being tied up when it was the sex play du jour?

She’d wanted their relationship to work. But because her dating experience was so limited, she hadn’t had a healthy frame of reference for what was normal and what wasn’t. What was good, what was bad. And the real reasons for why.

The more Scott accused her of being the problem, the more she believed him.

Sure, now she knew in her head that it hadn’t been all her fault—her chats with Nadia had told her that. But in her heart? There was still that doubt.

She needed certainty. She needed skills.

“Maybe the chemistry was never there to begin with,” she said lamely. Maybe it was that simple?

“You liked it when I restrained you with my hands. When I pinned you down.” Joe regarded her with a gentle smile on his face. “I think you’d like it if I tied you up.”

She clenched her upper thighs together instinctively and shook her head.

He chuckled and thrust his hips forward so she parted for him. She knew he felt her heat. Her dampness. Her arousal. But even though he doubtless knew he could, he didn’t push inside.

“You’ll let me. Maybe lesson number five.” He laughed again at her expression. “It doesn’t have to be handcuffs and ropes, it could be something softer. And I might even try to make you laugh. Maybe with a feather.”

Tickle torture? Abbi clenched her inner muscles again—knew damn well he saw and felt the effect of his words on her.

“Is that what gets guys off?” she asked softly. “Being in control?”

His lashes dropped like curtains in a theater. He didn’t answer for a long moment and when he finally did, it was quietly. “Nothing has turned me on more than you giving in to me, to the pleasure I can give you when you let me.

He paused and she saw him swallow. The smallest of frowns creased his brow before he suddenly looked her in the eye again.

“You want to know you’re a good lover, right? That’s why we’re here.” He cleared his throat, speaking quickly and firmly, like he’d pulled himself back into tutor mode and was about to give her the salient point in the lecture. “The first step in being a good lover is having a good time yourself and letting your partner see it and know it was because of him. So yeah, sometimes guys like to be dominant. And I think a lot of women like to submit in sex. It’s just fantasy. Just fun.”

Seriously? It couldn’t be that easy. “So you’re saying that if I just lie back and let you do whatever, it’ll be good for you?” Because it sure as hell had been good for her.

He laughed, but she felt him harden against her again. “Abbi, I already told you, you don’t just lie back.”

Yeah, well, she wasn’t exactly doing cartwheels from the chandelier.

His expression softened. “There’s all kinds of sex, sweetheart. Sometimes me on top, sometimes you. Lazy, slow, kinky, sweet. We’ll cover it all. But you have to believe what I tell you. And what did I tell you when I was thrusting as hard as I could inside you?”

So. Fucking. Good.

She raised her hand and pressed her palm to his slightly roughened jaw. “Thank you.”

“My pleasure. Literally.”

Part of her felt like a kitten who’d gotten her first bowl of cream—all pleased and satisfied. But insecurity whispered its way in almost instantly:
you have to do better
.

She needed to go
think
. Go study. Go listen to Sasha Fox.

“I’d better get home,” she said, wriggling beneath him. Contrarily, she was disappointed when he swiftly moved to let her sit up. He didn’t want to make the most of the new erection he was rocking?

She clutched the sheet to her chest as she prepared to get out of the bed.

“I’ll give you a lift,” he said smoothly, his gaze drifting to where her fingers curled tight at the edge of the fine cotton. “But you want to take a shower before you go?”

“Thanks.”

He offered no invitation for her to stay longer. Certainly not the night. That was fine. This was an arrangement and it was best to keep it that way. A service, in fact. One that was fun for him—being the lover of sex that he was—and beneficial for her.

All good.

He left the bed, apparently unconcerned with his aroused nudity, and went to the single set of drawers in the room. He opened the middle drawer and rummaged for a moment. Abbi appreciated the full length of that moment—the guy’s butt was mighty fine. As for his forever-long legs and the breadth of his back? She couldn’t believe she’d been so lucky to have the full force of his physical attention.

A second later something large and cotton landed in her lap. She shook it out. A T-shirt. She glanced up and saw he’d pulled some boxers on. He winked at her and walked out. She was glad he’d left to let her slip from the bed without him watching.

She pulled on the tee, trying not to melt in pleasure as it swamped her. More than a minidress, but it was
his
. She felt like she was his too—which was lame because she wasn’t and never would be. But that didn’t mean she wasn’t turned on.

She’d had her lesson for the day, she couldn’t possibly want
more
…

Okay. She could.

She breathed in a steadying breath, then wandered out in search of the bathroom.

Focus on something other than sex
.

She studied the walls. His apartment was much smaller than she’d thought it would be, and its sparseness surprised her. He obviously liked minimalist decor. In that way they couldn’t be more different. There were no family pictures anywhere—no pictures at all, in fact. None on the exposed brick walls, or on the tops of the bookcases that lined one of them. She knew he’d been a foster kid—eventually he’d been placed with a local family, the Burnses; that’s why he’d come to her school. But there was nothing of them to be seen in the place. Nothing terribly personal at all. Not even any pictures of his basketball team or other memorabilia. Nor was there much in the way of home comforts. No large sofa and giant flat-screen TV. There was a nice computer on the desk that had his paperwork in neat piles, but that was about it. The open-plan kitchen area was shiny but wasn’t littered with the gadgets of a MasterChef wannabe. So what were his hobbies, then?

This place could be some hotel or serviced apartment belonging to no one.

She knew shouldn’t be noticing these things at all, certainly shouldn’t be analyzing, but hey, she was curious. And curiosity about other things was eating her up, too. There was no sign here of any female presence in his life. Thank goodness.

“How come you don’t have a girlfriend at the moment?” she just couldn’t resist asking as he handed her a tall glass of ice water.

He didn’t have one, right? He wouldn’t have made this arrangement with her if he wasn’t single.

“No time. I’ve never had time for a girlfriend.”

And never would. That finality rang in his tone.

She took a long drink of the almost-frozen water, but it barely cooled her. “So you just have…flings?” Fuck buddies? Did he make arrangements like this all the time?

He nodded. “Just simple, carefree.”

“How do you keep it carefree?” She set her glass down on the stainless steel counter between them.

“Keep it finite.”

By that he meant short term. “And your partners are all okay with that?”

“If they’re not, we don’t play.”

But he didn’t want anything more? No relationship as such? Just a variety of sexual partners? He was that comfortable with living life alone?

She remembered the lack of personal objects, and figured maybe he’d always been alone…her stupid heart pulled.

“You ready for that shower?” His eyes sparkled with intent.

She nodded. Getting that he was closing the conversation. She smiled, trying to let him know he didn’t need to worry. She wasn’t going to pry more. Ask for more. Not in any way other than what they’d already arranged. And she was telling her already soft heart to harden up.

“Yeah, just a quickie, then I’d really better get home. I need to organize things for my week.”

He stalked forward and picked her up. “I think we can do better than a quickie.”

Her brain shorted out at the feel of his flexing pecs and abs hard against her. “This is still part of the
first
lesson, right?”

He just laughed.

His shower was one of those flashy ones with a million nozzles pointing at all kinds of interesting angles. Hot, steamy, sensational. Especially as he helped lather the soap and swipe it over every inch of her skin. Only now she wanted everything, all over again.

“Face the wall.” He nuzzled her ear and put her hands flat against the tiles so she could brace herself. Her legs were shaking.

He laughed—that low, sexy chuckle that told her he knew just how aroused she was. How much she wanted.

And then he gave it to her. Nothing quick about it.

An hour later she was dressed and sitting in the passenger seat of his car.

“I didn’t know you lived so close,” he said once she gave him the directions. “It’s only a ten-minute ride.”

“We should have walked,” she murmured, languid and satisfied.

He chuckled. “Sweetheart, you’re not up to it.”

A few moments later, they pulled in front of her apartment complex and she climbed from the car. He followed her but she stood at the gate, blocking him. “Thank you for—”

He cut her off by pressing lips on hers. Abbi instantly opened. He wrapped his arms tight around her and lifted her off her feet, hauling her close against his chest, secure in his embrace.

She was as surprised and touched as she was aroused. How could she want him again when she’d been so thoroughly screwed these last few hours?

He lowered her back to her feet and slowly drew away, brushing her cheek with the backs of his fingers in a gentle, teasing gesture. Like she was someone he liked to kid around with.

“Don’t overthink things,” he said. “I’ll see you soon.”

Don’t overthink things? How could she not overthink things after an experience like that?

She watched him get back in the car. But he didn’t leave. He lowered the window and called out to her.

“Get in your house. I’m not leaving until you’re inside.”

It was only midafternoon—hardly dark and dangerous. She smothered a grin at his protectiveness and hurried to her door, still flying on the orgasmic aftershocks.

So now she knew: she didn’t need to be in a committed, loving relationship to have the best sex of her life.

She flicked on the light in her apartment and stared at the half-constructed Lego city on her dining table. Good thing he hadn’t come in with her. The place was a mess and had “nerd alert” written all over it. Yeah, that was going to have to go—at least into a cupboard for the next week. This might be an arrangement, but she was learning all she could from it.

Sasha Fox—and every other article she’d read—had said the trick to getting a guy’s interest was not to talk about yourself. Not to be boring. Not be needy and ask for attention or ask him to solve your insecurities.

Well, she’d failed at that already by telling Joe her sexual insecurities. But she wasn’t going to give him any more to have to deal with. No man wanted to have to deal with a needy, clingy woman. This was only about fun for him and learning bedroom skills for her. Not
emotional
support.