“Think, Tracy. Is this your usual behavior? Is this how you usually feel?”
Her mind reeled a moment. What was she doing? She plopped down flat on the cover and glared at her bedside table. “No,” she said slowly. “Not really.” But it wasn’t completely unusual, either. After all, she had been doing this with him in her dreams for weeks now.
The war between logic and lust collided in her brain, short-circuiting any rational thought. She understood nothing of what was going on, couldn’t focus to save her life, and was talking to a studly man who was not, not, not seducing her!
“You listen here,” she said, her tone sharpening. “I’m alone in my own home, and I can do whatever I want!” She sat up and glared at her tousled, flushed face in the mirror. She knew she had completely lost it here, and yet she couldn’t stop herself. With a grunt of frustration, she slammed the phone shut and threw it across the room.
Almost before it landed, the ring tone rumbled through the room. Mr. Gaaaooow, again, she was sure. The low notes strummed her insides. She tried to ignore it, but she couldn’t. With another curse, she flounced across the room and flipped it open.
“—Tracy!”
“What?” She’d dropped to all fours on the floor to grab the phone, and her breasts swung with abandon. If she crouched a bit more, she could rub her nipples across the carpet. It was rough, not even remotely what she wanted, but it still felt good. Not great, but good.
“Tracy! You need to release some of your energy.”
She’d dreamed of his hands on her breasts. Big hands, hard hands. Pulling. Sucking. Twisting her nipples. Her fantasy took on a life of its own and she forgot that she was still holding the phone. She didn’t remember until one of her moans sparked a response from him.
“That’s good, Tracy. You need to fantasize something. Pretend I’m there. Pretend I’m biting you. Little nibbles along your neck and down to your breasts. I’m biting your nipples, Tracy. And I’m sucking them into my mouth. They’re stretching, Tracy. Pull on your nipples, feel the stretch, and then pinch. That’s my teeth biting you.”
For all that his words were just what she wanted to hear, his tone was more like a radio announcer giving the weather. She pulled the phone away from her ear intending to toss it aside, but she couldn’t quite make herself do it. She wanted to hear more. She wasn’t going to do what he said, but she wanted to hear.
She groaned, low and in the back of her throat. Then she looked down at herself and was startled to realize she was doing exactly what he said. She was fondling herself. Whenever she’d done this before it had been a sneaky movement, under her covers and with a great deal of guilt. But not this time. This time she felt free to touch herself openly.
She took a deep breath and widened her legs. Wow, did this feel good.
“Are you there, Tracy? Tracy?”
“It’s never felt right before,” she gasped as she touched her breast again. “It’s felt embarrassing. But now I’ve got this tingling and I can breathe and it feels great!”
“That’s your tigress. She’s awake now.” Then his voice dropped to a lower register. Not quite the sexy murmur she’d dreamed of, but very nice. Verrrrrrrrry nice indeed. “Touch yourself lower, Tracy.”
Her hand was already there, pushing into herself. Her legs were trembling, her hand was pinching and pushing, but it wasn’t what she wanted. “It feels so empty,” she gasped. Then her body started convulsing. Orgasmic contractions rippled through her. They went on and on, and it felt good—but also blank. She had no other word for it. Blank contractions like a muscle spasm or a repetitive sneeze. A release but unsatisfying at the same time.
Without understanding why, she curled on her side and began to cry. Tiny sobs intertwined with orgasmic gasps. “I’ve gone insane,” she whimpered. “I’m completely insane.”
“No, you’re not,” Mr. Gao said through the phone. His voice was soothing, stroking a part of her deep inside. “You’re not insane. That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you. You’ve just been awakened and that’s a scary, confusing thing.”
“It’s wonderful,” she sobbed, not even knowing why she cried. “I can breathe.”
“I’m almost there, Tracy. Open the door for me, okay? I’m almost to your house. I got your address from Mrs. Ludlow in 1B. We’ll talk. I’ll explain.”
The lust was cooling, allowing room for rational thought. She was curled naked on the floor after having brought herself to orgasm while on the phone. On the phone! What had she done?
“Tracy? Can you unlock the door for me?”
She closed her eyes, humiliation washing through her. “No,” she whispered. “No, I can’t.” Then she turned off her cell.
Chapter 5
“TRACY? IT’S NATHAN GAO. Don’t be afraid.”
Her favorite fleece blanket settled across her body. She was still curled on her floor, her mind resolutely blanked to everything that was happening. Except the blanket did feel very nice. She had been a little cold.
“I’m going to pick you up now. You’ll be more comfortable on the bed.”
She frowned into the crook of her elbow. She was an independent woman. She could get up all by herself. Except his hands felt wonderful as they gently worked themselves under her thighs and shoulders, then lifted her off the floor. Without intending to, she snuggled against his shoulder, hiding her face as she smelled his wonderful scent. Spice, ginger and something else bypassed her brain and settled deep into her womb. What was it? A musk that was all male and made the back of her throat purr. She burrowed deeper against him, appreciating the hard ridges of his pectorals at her face and the full bulge of his biceps beneath her thighs.
But then he set her down. He was excruciatingly gentle as he lay her head on her pillow. She didn’t want to let him go, but her hands were tangled in her blanket and she couldn’t reach him fast enough.
“I’m going downstairs,” he said. “I’ve brought some tea that will help cool your yin. Then we can talk.”
“How did you get in the house?” That wasn’t at all what she wanted to ask. She was thinking other things entirely—like how could she possibly be embarrassed about the situation while simultaneously wanting to throw off the blanket and jump him? It was a simmering-in-the-background kind of urge, but she felt it nonetheless.
“I ran here,” he answered. “And then I…uh…I picked the lock.” His skin darkened to a dusky red, but his eyes were unapologetic. “I was afraid for you.”
“What’s happening to me?” Her voice came out surprisingly steady given that she really wasn’t sure she wanted to know the answer.
He ran a distracted hand through his hair, standing it up in spiky points. “I woke your inner tigress. Some people call it your kundalini.”
She blinked, forcing her mind to focus on his words, not just the movement of his lips and how they would feel against her skin. “I, uh…I think you better go make that tea. I’ll get dressed and meet you downstairs.”
He nodded, his shoulders dropping an inch with the movement. “Good. That’s good. We’ll—”
“Talk. Yes, I think that would be very good. Talk.” Away from her bed. With clothing on. “Coffee. Strong, hot coffee.”
“You will like my tea better,” he said, and then he was gone. But not before she saw that he wore a different pair of teaching pants, these made of faded black cotton that outlined his muscular bottom and could be undone with a single yank on the tie. Yup, the horny fireflies were still zipping around her system, giving her thoughts that made her blush.
She frowned as she watched him leave. She’d never had thoughts like this before. Fantasies—yes. Vivid pretense—yes. But a powerful urge to have a man—this particular man—thick and hard inside her? Never. A wetness inside and out that made her so needy she wanted to jump out of her skin? Not once.
Tracy made a concerted effort to tamp down these bizarre urges as she extricated herself from bed. Then she grabbed her most asexual clothing—loose sweatpants and an even looser T-shirt—and headed downstairs. She made it into her kitchen just as the whistle began to blow on the teakettle. She watched him from the doorway,
