Wine, Tarts & Sex

really much, much too eager. “I blame the shrimp for my horniness.”

He smiled back. “Whatever works. Give me a few minutes, though. I need nourishment. I wouldn’t want to disappoint you.”

As if, she thought, surveying his spectacular cock, undiminished and tempting. “Take your time.”

He looked up, a forkful of chorizo poised halfway to his mouth. “Really?”

“I was being polite.”

He grinned. “Gotcha. Four minutes and counting then,” he said, all chivalrous gallantry.

A short time later, after consuming a good portion of chorizo and shrimp, he set about clearing the dishes from the bed. Clearly experienced at stacking dishes, he picked up the perfectly balanced pile of plates and, twisting around, set them on the floor in the most gorgeous display of sinuous, tawny-colored muscle she’d ever had the good fortune to see. “You must work out,” she murmured, as he pulled himself back up in a supple surge of rock- hard abs.

“I do a little kendo.” He tossed the napkins and empty champagne bottle on the floor. “Fourteen hours a day throwing pots and pans around the kitchen also helps keep you in shape. Are we done talking?”

“Whatever you say, boss.”

His brows flickered. “You mean I didn’t have to eat that fast?”

She smiled. “I appreciate it, of course.”

“I thought you might. And with dessert waiting, I had plenty of incentive to hurry.” Seizing her ankles, he flipped her onto her back and in answer to her wide-eyed look, said with a lazy smile, “Any special instructions?” Without waiting for an answer, he ran his palms up her legs, eased her thighs apart and, silently thanking Chaz for his oversized bed, adjusted himself comfortably between Liv’s legs. Glancing up to meet her heated gaze, he quirked one brow. “No orders? Last chance.”

“Just a minute,” Liv murmured on a suffocated breath, her vagina pulsing so hard the desperate ache slid all the way up her spine and spiked into her brain, his idea of dessert, his outrageous desirability and magnetic appeal making her unstrung and ravenous when she was never ravenous. “I’m not sure I like… being… out of control,” she gasped.

“Sure you do.”

“Screw you,” she breathed, pissed at his casual assurance. She should have listened to her voice of reason downstairs and kept walking when she had the chance. Now she wasn’t so sure she could.

“Hey. I’m barely holding it together, too,” he gruffly retorted. But rather than explain, he put his hand over her mouth-the male answer to baffling doubts. Abruptly dipping his head, he opened her dewy cleft with his fingertips and ran his tongue up her slick tissue with delicacy and finesse, with perfect GPS know-how in terms of nerve locations. He could have been thoughtfully arranging a fantasy dessert to best effect, so exacting was the placement of his tongue and fingers. As though he knew to perfection how to turn her on-or maybe the scores of women before her had been a universal sisterhood when it came to getting off this way.

In due course, when her labia-major and minor-had been excited to a frenzied nicety, he turned his attention to her clit, and if being out of control had once been an issue, it no longer was.

Complete and absolute sensation took precedence.

Carte blanche, as it were, on the road to ecstasy.

For the next blissful interval only Liv’s breathy moans and orgasmic cries punctuated the silence of the loft. Jake deftly brought her to climax once, then twice, and lifting his head slightly, he paused, waiting for some cue about a possible third time.

Stabbing her fingers through his thick hair, she jerked his head back.

Definitely a cue. He got back down to business.

And Liv gave herself up to raw, over-the-edge, soul-stirring rapture that insinuated itself into every sensitive, greedy nook and cranny, every rapt nerve and throbbing bit of flesh previously unaccustomed to such neon-lit carnal splendor.

Not that she was currently in the right frame of mind to consider that past discrepancy.

For his part, Jake found Liv’s total abandon appealing. That she was completely genuine in a world given increasingly to spin and pretense held a distinctly down-home charm. Or perhaps it was disarming only in contrast to his glitterati world where poseurs were the norm.

Not that any of his philosophical reflections were relevant up against his increasing randiness. And just as soon as darling Livvi came again, he was going to replace his tongue with his cock and blast off.

“Oh God, oh God, oh God-oh God,” she panted.

Perfect timing, he thought, gently sucking her clit as her third orgasm ripped through her vagina. She was definitely on some kind of hair trigger. Not that he was complaining when it would soon be his turn. Although he knew better than to stop what he was doing until her last little sigh died away. Even then, he gave her time to return to the real world before easing back and resting on his elbows.

“You’re way too good,” she breathed, glancing down at him from under her lashes. “I’m writing off Shelly tonight.”

He liked that she didn’t ask. He particularly liked that her plans matched his. He’d written off Shelly a long time ago. “I was hoping you’d stay,” he said with a smile, “seeing how it’s my turn now.”

“Definitely. After that last glorious orgasm, I owe you. Any special instructions?” she waggishly inquired.

“In my current purist frame of mind,” he murmured, coming up on his knees and reaching for a condom, “all I want is the feel of your hot cunt closing around my cock. Say a couple hundred times.”

She gave him a sunny smile. “I’m really, really glad I stopped by.”

He glanced up as he ripped open a foil packet, a smile slowly forming on his finely modeled mouth. “Believe me, I couldn’t have asked for a better wine merchant. ” He unrolled the condom over his throbbing cock, snapped it in place, and, placing the flat of his hands on either side of her arms, smoothly dropped between her widespread legs.

It was a seriously unforgettable sensation, he decided a moment later, as he glided inside her soft, slick warmth, her cunt’s tightness conforming to his hard-on with a highly provocative, all-absorbing reluctance. His toes curled, a thin film of sweat appeared on his forehead, and only with sheer will did he resist his body’s inclination to enter her at ramming speed. But by the end, he was champing at the bit, more impatient than usual, more frenzied, and when he finally bottomed out, only then did he notice her tautness. “Christ,” he muttered, instantly pulling back. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“You didn’t.” A soft almost inaudible sound.

He met her gaze, his brows rising faintly in query.

Her nostrils flared, and it took her a moment to find her breath. “I don’t actually believe in karma, but the earth moved back there.”

“No shit,” he grunted. “And I don’t believe in much of anything.”

A smile lifted the corners of her mouth. “So… can you do it again?”

“Like this?” He glided back in.

Her eyes drifted shut, she raised her hips into his downthrust, accentuating the stunning pressure. “Exactly like that,” she breathed, sliding her hands around his neck. “Don’t ever stop…”

He knew what she meant; he had no intention of stopping. Nor would he have, if the phone on the bedside table hadn’t begun ringing at such jarring decibel levels it hurt his ears. Swearing, he glanced at the phone. But too far gone at the moment to consider answering it, he concentrated instead on the onset of Liv’s next orgasm, ultimately joining her in another mind-blowing climax so awesome it momentarily drowned out the ringing of the phone.

They lay collapsed afterward, replete.

He unconsciously shifted on his elbows, not crushing the woman under him hardwired into his brain.

“It stopped,” Liv murmured.

“What?” He was still drifting in that never-never land of sweet gratification.

“The phone.”

“Good.”

They both ignored the red voice mail light that had started blinking. They both had better things on their minds.