Her head fell back against the chair and she closed her eyes, letting out a soft moan. It nearly buckled his knees, made his chest squeeze. “You always were good with your hands,” she gasped, arousal making her voice throaty.
He was good with his mouth too. Capturing her lips with his, Peter kissed her soft and slow, his tongue stroking hers in an erotic dance meant to melt any resistance. Sinking further and further into her until all he knew was the feel of her hot little pussy under his palm and the way she tasted.
God, he’d missed her.
The thought entered his head and shocked him, pulled him back from the drugging effect of her kiss. His heart began to jackhammer in his chest, but before he could pull back further Leslie grabbed a handful of his hair and tugged him back down.
“Don’t stop,” she whispered against his mouth. “You feel so good.”
Her hips had started to move in time with his hand, her body searching, yearning for more. Whatever her game was, she was clearly enjoying it. This was either going to be the easiest bet he’d ever won or the woman was playing him like a fiddle.
Either way he was totally on board.
Hunger bit into him with jagged teeth and he pushed his finger against her, making her cry out. It wasn’t his mouth on her like he wanted, but it was enough for now. It was enough to make her come.
And making Leslie Cutter orgasm had just become his singular mission.
Peter took her mouth again, impatience nipping at him, causing him to become rougher, more demanding. Taking the heel of his palm he pushed it into her mound and began rubbing it in a circle, knowing that the friction on her clit would drive her crazy.
“More,” she groaned and arched upward, her hands dropping to his shoulders, her nails digging into him there.
It turned him on and he gave her more, kissing her hard and passionately. Whatever she wanted, he wanted to give her. Everything. Anything. Just as long as she rewarded him with a gorgeous, delicious orgasm.
Nothing in the world quite compared to the sight of her in the throes of an intense climax. The memory of the last time had plagued him for years, crept into his dreams, and overrode his fantasies until they starred only Leslie.
It was time to get her out of his head.
And it was definitely time to get her back into his bed. He needed to have her, to purge himself of her. Then he wouldn’t be in danger of her taking over his heart anymore. Because she already had a toehold, damn her.
Shoving the chair back on its spring as far is it would go, Peter kissed her passionately. The heel of his palm continued its gentle assault, not letting up even when she drew her legs up until only her toes were on the desk and her knees were bent.
“Tell me how much you want this,” he panted after he broke the kiss.
“I want this,” she whispered, her head back and eyes closed.
Not good enough. After all the trouble she’d caused him, he wanted her begging for it. “How bad do you want it?” He nipped her bottom lip hard enough to sting and she cried out softly. “How bad do you want to come for me, Leslie?” he demanded, blood pounding in his ears and his cock hard as granite. If it was anywhere close to how badly he wanted to make her come then it was going to be one intense orgasm.
Dropping his head further, he saw her nipples puckered beneath her black top and covered one with a mouth. He wasn’t gentle. And she liked it.
Nails dug hard into his shoulders and she bucked against him, crying out, “So bad! Now, Peter. Make me come, now.” She ended her demand with a moan and a “please.” Then she dropped her hands until they covered his, urging him on.
Feeling the urgency in her, he sucked a nipple through the thin black fabric of her shirt and grinned when her legs began to quiver. Knowing she was on the brink of going over, Peter flicked his tongue over her hard little peak and bit it between his teeth.
She broke.
Her orgasm tore through her and she cried out, “Oh God!”
It was the sexiest fucking sound in the entire world.
Releasing her nipple, Peter drew back until he could see her clearly. Her eyes were still closed and her cheeks were flushed. She was panting and boneless and sated and it made him feel like a goddamn superhero.
And there wasn’t a tear in sight.
Not this time.
Peter released the chair and let it drop back down, the abrupt movement jarring her eyes open. When he saw them his stomach tightened. They had gone dark as a pine forest and were completely dazed and unfocused. Damn, but it did his ego good to see her like that. All soft and satisfied and floaty.
Turning his back on her, Peter strode to his jacket on the couch and picked it up, put it on. Then, staring at her slick, kiss-swollen lips, he asked, “How many times did you come that night, Leslie?”
She stared back at him, her eyes a little glassy. “Three or four, I think. Why?”
Because he was keeping count.
Moving to the door, he pulled it open and glanced back over his shoulder at his fantasy woman with the pinup curves and smart mouth, who looked decidedly sex-rumpled and replete.
Damn right.
He had a score to settle. “That’s number one.”
A FEW DAYS later Leslie was in her car and on her way to Pole Fitness for her strip dancing class. Outside, the October air was fresh, the sky was blue, and the leaves were parading about in their autumn glory.
Inside, the radio was cranked and The Dirty Heads were in her CD player, making her body sway with their song “Lay Me Down.” Her left hand kept time to the beat as she tapped her thumb on the steering wheel and downshifted when the light up ahead turned red.
Reggae music was her weakness.
It made her soul light up. Considering how many things there were in life that could get a person down, she considered island music a godsend. Losing herself in the rhythms of the Caribbean had gotten her through some pretty tough times when all she’d wanted to do was cry.
Pulling to a stop as The Dirty Heads told her to wipe the dirt off or take her shirt off, she put the Mini in first gear just as a text came through on her cell phone. Knowing she shouldn’t because texting while driving was illegal in Colorado, Leslie quickly pulled down her Ray-Bans and scanned the message anyway.
It was from Peter, and it was the first she’d heard from him since he’d left for St. Louis.
Laughter bubbled in her chest and she let it loose. God, that man was funny when he wanted to be, referencing their bet like that.
After their rendezvous in her office he’d headed out of town, providing them both with an opportunity to assess the current situation and decide how to move forward. Not that she really had anything to think about. There was simply no way she was going to have sex with Kowalskin and lose this bet.
That didn’t mean that she wasn’t going to drive him bat-shit crazy at every opportunity though.
