Wine, Tarts & Sex

“And then I won’t wake you when I leave,” Shelly noted with a grin.

Liv grinned back. “That, too. But stay. McKinley and McKinley wouldn’t like it if you were picked up for a DUI. Bad for their image.”

This would have been an opportune moment for Jake to say, “I’m going back to the city. I’ll drive you.” He’d even run the idea through his mind a couple times. God knows, every sensible brain cell was telling him to get out of Dodge. If he actually stayed a second night, he’d be setting some alarming, possibly dire record. He didn’t do sleep-overs. It had always been his cardinal rule.

And now, he couldn’t bring himself to say those few simple words: I gotta go.

Instead, he poured himself another glass of Liv’s wine. A good wine, perhaps someday even a great wine. Not that he was about to disclose his personal judgments on the subject. Both her red and white were remarkably balanced and smooth for (1) a boondocks wine-growing region of the world, (2) a brand-new vineyard, and (3) hybrid grapes no one had ever heard of.

“Let’s play charades,” Janie suggested brightly as she returned from tucking Matt into bed. “I adore charades.”

Maybe because her entire life was a charade, Jake thought, immediately blaming his churlishness on his inability to do what he should do. Like leave.

Liv looked at Jake.

He grimaced.

Roman shrugged.

Shelly said, “I love charades, too!”

And three out of five adults inwardly groaned.

Nineteen

“You were unbelievably polite,” Liv murmured as she walked toward her bed and Jake shut the bedroom door behind him. “Thanks.”

“How long could charades last? I figured. Who knew,” he said with a scowl. “But-hey-it’s over, and you’re my prize.”

“At least Shelly and Janie had fun,” Liv murmured, dropping backward onto her bed in free fall.

“That’s because Janie loves to be center stage. I don’t know about Shelly. What’s her problem?”

“She’s a frustrated drama queen. She used to perform in local theater before her job began to consume her. But she makes tons of money, so there’s compensation for her long hours.”

“She was up here pretty early tonight.”

“And we both know why.”

He smiled. “Just checking.”

“You can’t blame her. I haven’t been in seclusion like this before.”

His brows rose. “Ever?”

“I should say no, but I lie so poorly, so yes. I do not as a rule engage in unending, unremitting, till-the-cows- come-home sex. I have no explanation.”

“That makes two of us.”

Her brows rose.

“All of the above, okay?”

“I shouldn’t be pleased, but I am. I thought perhaps you were just referring to not having an explanation.”

“I have a busy life, babe. Fucking nonstop isn’t part of my normal schedule. Not when I have to get out three hundred meals in two restaurants every night.”

“That’s nice,” she murmured, smiling.

He’d never seen such a sexy smile. Correction: all her smiles were sexy, which meant he was obviously crazed. And liable to walk over the edge if he wasn’t careful. Shit, shit, shit.

Striding to a chair across the room, he dropped into it. He needed to distance himself from the object of his obsession, try to arrive at some rational explanation for what the hell was going on, and-mostly-talk himself into leaving.

“What are you doing over there? You’re too far away,” Liv murmured soft as silk, ignoring his sulky gaze, slowly unzipping her shorts.

“Fucking witch,” he muttered, but he was smiling.

“If we’re talking witchcraft, I empathize completely. And I don’t even believe in that hocus-pocus. But whatever ’s going on here is unreal.”

“No shit. I’m gonna wear myself out fucking you.”

'While I have to think about actually going to work again someday.”

“This is crazy,” he said with a sigh.

“I agree.”

But she’d slipped her shorts down her legs as she’d spoken, and her little white lace panties with the purple bows were fully engaging his attention. He lifted his chin the merest distance. “Take them off,” he said, gruffly.

“What if I don’t want to?”

“You don’t have a choice.”

“You’re going to make me?” she whispered.

“No doubt in my mind.”

“I’m getting really wet from you talking like that.”

“Good. It’ll make it easier to slide my cock into your tight little cunt.” He reached for the zipper on his jeans. “Come here.”

She should have at least hesitated, but he’d pulled out his erection that was swelling before her eyes and her addictive senses wouldn’t allow her to equivocate.

“That’s a good girl,” he said with a tight-lipped smile as she slipped off her panties and rose from the bed, his mood further darkening as he wondered if she was equally obliging to every guy who showed up in her bedroom. “Bring that ripe, juicy cunt over here where it’ll do me some good.”

“Or where you’ll do me some good.” His taunting tone struck a raw nerve.

“That’s a given. You can’t ever get enough, can you?”

She could have explained that he was the exception, that not getting enough was unique to him. But she didn’t feel like explaining when he was appraising her like she was a commodity or a means to an end. Or a convenience for his present lecherous appetites. “Don’t look at me like that,” she said sulkily, stopping before she reached him.

“Don’t tell me don’t,” he said, lunging forward, grabbing her wrist, and jerking her forward.

She struggled against his hold. “I’ll scream and embarrass you or-” Her words died in her throat. He’d jammed two fingers palm-deep up her vagina.

“Or what, sweetheart?” he whispered, gently moving his fingers inside her. “Maybe come in the next few seconds?” She was wetter than wet, her clit engorged and rampant, her breathing labored: all the signs of an approaching orgasm so familiar to him right there under his fingertips. He could have stopped what he was doing and leveled the playing field. And if he hadn’t been slave to his own ungovernable desires, he might have. But he didn’t want to give her a chance to resist. He wanted her to want him as much as he wanted her. Without restraint or limits. Persistently, unremittingly. Now.

He reached for a condom even before the last quivering flutters of her climax quieted. Ripping the packet open with his teeth, he lifted her unresisting body and seated her on his knees. As she drifted in that half world of postcoital enchantment, he sheathed his cock with record speed, swept her up once again, and deposited her on his throbbing dick in one fell swoop.

There was no question about leisurely sex this time. He raised and lowered her on his erection at breakneck speed, his biceps and pecs flexing and contracting with brute power, her pliant, yielding flesh engulfing him in snug,