IOU Sex Part 6

"You're hard," I said. His erection pressed against my tailbone.

"Told you. Getting you off turns me on."

"Turns me on too."

His finger dipped into my p.u.s.s.y then went back to work on my c.l.i.t. The juices from my wet c.u.n.t made the pads of his fingers glide easily and quickly over the bundle of nerves. I writhed against him as he rubbed me feverishly. My pulse raced and my heart hammered. Soft whimpers fell from my lips as he pushed me up, up, up. Way up.

Another glorious climax erupted deep inside me, making me call out, "Oh, Lord."

"G.o.dd.a.m.n." He groaned. "I am so hot for you."

I shifted so I could face him. He stripped the shirt off me before I went for the b.u.t.tons on his fly. The flickering flames cast shadows and light across the ledge of his pectoral muscles and rigid abdomen. I bent my head to his bare skin, running my tongue along the grooves of his stomach. Then I moved upward and flicked a nipple. He squirmed beneath me.

"So sensitive," I murmured as I licked the small bud. His skin was slightly salty.

"Let's just say, you shift me into sensory overload. Without much effort, I might add."

"Good to know." I dropped more kisses along his chest. I covered his erection with my hand. The shaft strained against the briefs he wore. I gently ma.s.saged his c.o.c.k then cupped his b.a.l.l.s. His hips bucked and he let out a low hiss.

"Touchy, touchy," I joked in a soft voice.

His muscles bunched as though he were restraining himself. I liked the idea that he might be close to losing control and jumping my bones.

He said, "Feel free to have your way with me."

I gripped the material of his jeans where the b.u.t.tons had been undone. "Lift."

I worked the denim down his legs, followed by his briefs. When he was naked, I stared at his sculpted physique. How he ever found time to work out was beyond me, but he was clearly religious about it. My gaze roved his body. A little thrill chased down my spine at the thought of pleasuring him. Of being the one he wanted to pleasure him.

Running my tongue along my bottom lip caused him to grunt.

"You're eyeing me like I'm the Last Supper," he said.

"You do make me terribly h.o.r.n.y. I mean hungry," I corrected. Silly me. I was practically tongue-tied.

He grinned. "Be my guest."

I wrapped my fingers around his wide shaft and gave a long, full pump of his c.o.c.k from base to tip and back down. Then I covered the head with my mouth and it slid along my tongue.

He let out a sharp breath. "That's it. Suck my c.o.c.k."

I did. Hard. My head bobbed up and down as I f.u.c.ked him with my mouth. He gathered up my damp strands of hair, whisking them away from my face.

"Oh, yeah," he said in a strained tone. "That feels d.a.m.n good."

I released him and instead licked his sac then very lightly suckled it.

His breathing was heavy. More groans slipped from his lips as my tongue glided up his shaft and then my mouth covered his tip again. I took him deep, sucking him hard. His hips lifted off the sofa and the fingers in my hair tightened a bit around the strands. I increased the sucking pressure as I cupped his b.a.l.l.s with my hand and ma.s.saged them the way he'd shown me the first night we were together.

That always did the trick for him. Sure enough, one more deep-throated suckle and he called out my name as he came. I didn't release him immediately. I let him savor the moment. When his hips lowered and he was settled against the cushion again, I moved away.

Licking my lips, I asked, "Enjoy yourself?"

One corner of his tempting mouth lifted. "Such a smarta.s.s."

"Just making sure."

"I think you got your answer."

Indeed, I did. Feeling triumphant and light of heart, I said, "You didn't hold out for long."

"Can't help it. Watching you go down on me makes it impossible to stay in control."

I handed over his Scotch before I put the Chinese food in the fridge and then made a trip to the restroom. I snuggled up with him on the sofa again, settled between his legs. He draped the throw over my naked body. The fingers of his free hand combed through my hair as he sipped his drink. I watched the fire for a few moments before my eyelids dipped. I stifled a yawn as my head rested on his chest, but I couldn't stop myself from falling asleep.

I was in his bed when I woke up. I vaguely remember my eyes drifting open when he'd moved us from the sofa. Then I'd promptly fallen back asleep. Now, the smell of fresh-brewed coffee and eggs made my lids snap open and my stomach growl. I threw the covers off me just as he walked through the large, doorless frame that separated his master suite from the living room.

He carried a tray and had the morning paper tucked under his arm.

"I do like that you feed me on a regular basis," I told him.

Settling into bed next to me, he said, "I want you h.o.r.n.y, not hungry."

I laughed at the reminder of my verbal bobble last night. "Doesn't take much to make me both when I'm with you."

I dug into the eggs and sausage as he opened the paper, setting aside the sections I always read first. This made me falter for a moment, and I set my fork aside. We'd experienced the same thing last night, having our Chinese food ritual. He knew what to order and we both knew what the other liked to start with before we switched. The realization of how in tune we were with each other was both endearing and disturbing at the same time. The latter being a natural reaction to the fact that I wouldn't have noted any of this if it didn't bear some significance. The revelation alarmed me, of course, though I fought the twinge of anxiety. Forced it down so we could enjoy our breakfast together.

Afterward I put my clothes back on and told him, "I have to get ready for the party."

He eyed me curiously. "It's only ten o'clock in the morning."

"Yes, but this is one of those occasions when I have a lot hair and makeup to do. We should leave around one forty-five. I want to be about twenty minutes late."

His brow furrowed. "You're never late."

"This time, it's necessary." I had my reasons, despite promising my mother I'd be on time. "I want everyone to be there when we walk in."

"Plan to make a spectacle of yourself, do you?"

"You'd better believe it. They'll be expecting the poor, dumped fiancee."

"Instead, they're going to get hot stuff in a red dress. A party girl ready to have a good time, to h.e.l.l with the bride and groom." He gave me a wicked grin that made me so thrilled he understood my plight-and was right there with me to see this crazy plan through.

It was a simple one, admittedly, but there were still a dozen different ways it could backfire on me. The most obvious being that my mother would flip out and demand I drive back into town to buy something more appropriate to wear.

Not a chance.

I said, "I'll be ready by the time you arrive. Just buzz me on my cell if you can't find a parking s.p.a.ce and I'll come right down."

"Don't forget the overnight bag."

I stared at him. "Michael."

"Fiona." He crossed his arms over his bare chest. "The deal was the whole weekend."

More I.O.U s.e.x. I'd be lying if I didn't get a kick out of the idea. In fact, excitement shimmied down my spine. My c.l.i.t tingled with antic.i.p.ation.

"Fine. I'll pack a bag." I turned to go. Over my shoulder I said, "Thanks again for doing this."

"Thanks for agreeing to my terms."

Hard to say who was in for the most trouble-him at this party, or me come Monday morning. A whole weekend with him. I knew my body would be sated, but what about my heart?

Chapter Seven.

I was a bundle of nerves as I stepped into my red suede peekaboo platform shoes with the four-inch heels. I was waxed within an inch of my life. Had painstakingly applied my makeup. Sported fat curls in my hair that cascaded over my bare shoulders and down my back. Was tucked into the tightest dress I'd ever worn, with a hem that ended mid-thigh and a bodice that dipped so low, my plumped-up b.r.e.a.s.t.s crested the V-shaped neckline. The sleeves were extra long, covering my wrists, one of which was circled by a diamond tennis bracelet.

I couldn't believe my eyes as I stood in front of the full-length mirror in my bathroom. I looked like a completely different woman. One who knew how to let her hair down and have a good time. One who knew how to please a man like Michael Houston. Maybe even keep him.

My family would be shocked by my appearance. I'd never worn a red dress, and certainly not one as s.e.xy as this. The curve-hugging fabric was strategically bunched around the shoulders and bodice, but then gave way to smooth material that clung to every inch of me.

Turning, I eyed my a.s.s over my shoulder. Not bad at all.

I had a personal trainer to thank for the bod. A tanning booth and spa to thank for the skin. I couldn't think of anything else I needed to give my double-fingered kiss-off to the happy couple. Except for him, of course.

As I stashed my tube of crimson-colored lipstick in my small clutch and grabbed my overnight tote, the doorbell rang. Crossing the hardwood floor carefully-I'd practiced wearing the shoes-I opened the door.

"Hey, you didn't have to park the-" I stopped mid-sentence because his eyes bulged and his jaw dropped as he stared at me. My stomach coiled from both nervous anxiety and s.e.xual tension. "Uh, what do you think?" I spread my arms wide then slowly turned so he could get the full effect.

He was speechless. Precisely the response I'd wanted. My apprehension eased a bit.

"Michael." I playfully swatted at him with my clutch. "Say something."

"Holy f.u.c.king s.h.i.t." He whistled.

I laughed. "Well, okay. I suppose that'll do."

"Jesus." He reached a hand out and propped it against the doorframe, as though to steady himself. "Babe. You're smokin' hot."

"Hardly the image of a scorned lover? Betrayed sister? Badgered daughter?"

"h.e.l.l, no." He grabbed me around the waist and pulled me to him. "Son of a b.i.t.c.h," he mused as one hand rested on the small of my back while the other one skimmed over my a.s.s, giving it a squeeze. "d.a.m.n, you look good."

"I guess so. You're cussing like a sailor."

"I feel like a sailor. One who's been out to sea too long and in need of everything you have to offer." He didn't dare muss my hair or my makeup, but he did add, "Love the dress, but I still prefer you naked in my bed."

"Later. Though...not too much later. I don't intend to stay at the party long. Just need to show up so I can make my point that I've moved on. They deserve each other."

He said, "I think this favor is taking a different turn. Hardly feels like you're putting me out when you look this amazing."

"Feel free to drool all over me in front of my family."

"Bring on the bib."

Extracting myself from his grasp, I said, "A bib would take away from your suit. You look quite handsome."

I straightened his tie. In all actuality, he looked smokin' hot. My toes curled in my peekaboos, and I felt tight and tingly all over. He wore a black suit and pewter-colored shirt with a matching silk tie. His dark brown hair dusted the collar at the nape of his neck, pushed back from his devastatingly handsome face. Very modern-day rake. Devilish, in fact. Definitely detrimental to a girl's heart.

"I might be the one needing the bib," I said.

"We'll see who wants to leave the party first."

"Hmph," I mumbled. Likely me. And not because I was ready to escape my family. "Shall we get a move on?"

He took my tote, and I locked the door behind us before we headed down the stairs. Outside, his Porsche was parked at the curb. He held the door open for me as he gave me another appreciative once-over.

Shaking his head, he said, "It's going to be h.e.l.l keeping my hands off you."

"No worries there. Have at it."

"You're really going for the gold, aren't you?"

"Better believe it."

He closed the door. I settled into the leather seat. I was still anxious over what I was about to do. Maybe I was a little off my rocker, but this was a prime opportunity to salvage my pride.

He climbed in next to me and started the car. "We should be fashionably late, as requested."

I panicked a little over that decision, knowing my tardiness would grate on my mother's nerves. Considering I was going to be wearing something completely over-the-top, arriving fifteen or twenty minutes late might push the envelope.

Too late to do anything about that now. I couldn't turn back time and have him arrive earlier. I seriously had to sh.o.r.e up the defenses and jump into this idea with both feet. It really was an all-or-nothing game plan.

I made small talk on the drive to Napa while, in the back of my mind, I played out how I hoped the engagement party would go. The closer we got to the vineyard, the less chatty I felt.

Ten or fifteen minutes of silence pa.s.sed. He asked, "You okay?"

I nodded. "Just freaking out a little. Maybe we should have left earlier so we could stop off for a drink before the party."

He reached over and put his hand on my leg, giving it a squeeze. "Relax. We'll rock it. Your family won't know what hit them."

We took the turn onto the long, winding road of the vineyard. When we reached the parking lot, I could barely breathe. It was filled with cars I recognized. The Bentleys, the Mercedes, the Jaguars. The Carlisle clan was out in spades. So too were the Corbetts.