Exposing Victoria Page 9

  “This is the worst kind of blackmail.”

  “It’s just division of labor. I drive and you, my dear, get to open your legs for me.”

  “Cocksucker.” There was need in her voice, not just anger.

  His cock swelled as he sensed her desire. He liked being able to do this to her, to drive her wild, to blow her mind and take her body to places she had never been.

  “Hope you are enjoying yourself now,” she told him, “seeing as how you’re not getting any after dinner.”

  Shane slid his hand under her skirt, pressing his fingertips to the silk directly over her pussy. He could feel the throbbing heat, the growing moisture.

  “I’m sure I’ll manage,” he said nonchalantly.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “This isn’t working,” he said, ignoring her question. “I can’t get at you. I need you to take off your panties.”

  “Yeah, right.”

  “If you don’t make it easier for me I might have an accident.”

  Vicky groaned in exasperation. “You know how much I hate you right now?”

  “Your pussy doesn’t hate me, judging by the wetness of those panties. So how about you do us both a favor and get rid of them.”

  “I should have my head examined.”

  Vicky squirmed, lifting her buttocks off the seat. He didn’t want to miss a thing as she wriggled the tiny panties down over her hips.

  “Eyes on the road, soldier boy. I want to get to dinner in one piece, no repeats of our boat trip.”

  “You’re a piece all right.”

  Vicky kicked off the underwear.

  “Let me have it,” he said.

  “Boy, would I ever like to,” she muttered, handing him the pretty little scrap of lingerie.

  Shane put it immediately over the rearview mirror.

  “Are you insane?” she demanded. “Someone might see.”

  “And if they do?”

  Vicky frowned. “I’m not up for another of your little scenarios of public exposure.”

  “So what’s the worst that happens? Let’s say someone passes us, looks in the car, sees a beautiful woman, underwear hung up like a trophy.”

  “Works great for you,” she shot back. “I’m the one who looks like a slut.”

  “What you are is a woman who needs sex, a lot of it.” Shane maneuvered his fingers to reach both her clit and the ridges of her labia. “Go on, counselor, move against my hand. Take the pleasure you need.”

  “No.”

  They came to a stoplight. There was an old man in the car to the right. He was stealing little glances.

  “Fuck,” Vicky moaned.

  “You can’t help yourself, you’re too horny,” Shane encouraged.

  Vicky shivered, pushing her pelvis forward against Shane’s hand. “Oh, Jeezus.”

  “A part of you wants to hold back but another part wants a nasty little orgasm before dinner. That part doesn’t care who sees, in fact it likes being watched. Which part is winning?”

  Her breath quickened. She tensed up, pushing her thigh muscles together.

  The man in the car was looking at her.

  “Touch your breasts,” he said. “You know your nipples need attention.”

  Vicky rubbed her finger over her blouse, massaging the tight point underneath.

  The light turned green.

  “Can you do it before the next street light?” he challenged. “Can you take yourself over the edge? I want to see it, you don’t know what you do to me, baby, when you’re out of control.”

  Vicky gave way, her resistance crumbling. She was writhing on his hand, undulating, fast and furious, zero to sixty in record time, just like her sweet little roadster.

  She arched her back. He could barely keep his eyes on the road. He had never seen a woman so totally, naturally sex charged.

  “Shane, oh…Shane,” she moaned.

  His cock strained as he heard his name on her full, luscious lips. He wanted her to say nothing else, no other man’s name, ever again.

  “Sweetheart,” he replied.

  Vicky tensed, throwing back her head. She cried out in abandon, pushing her feet against the floor. The next light was red. He barely slowed to check for traffic then raced through it. She reached for his right hand. He gave it to her. She squeezed tightly. He could feel the release coming from inside her, the waves of passion radiating through her nerve endings, superheating her skin and his.

  Shane let out a deep breath. He wanted his cock in there, in place of her hand, filling her, exploding her apart in a million pieces. And then he would pick them all up and put her together again.

  Vicky slumped in the seat. She let her head rest on his shoulder. Shane swelled with pride, his protective urges fully engaged. She was choosing him, trusting him.

  “What is it you keep doing to me?” she whispered at last, awe in her voice, mixed with genuine perplexity.

  Shane chuckled. “You’re doing it to yourself. I’m along for the ride.”

  “You’re in the driver’s seat, actually.”

  “Technically.”

  She was looking at his hard-on, trying not to stare.

  “That’s what you do to me, baby.”

  Vicky sighed, thoughtful. He liked her this way, right after she climaxed. He liked her before she came too, as much as during.

  “I do feel a tiny bit responsible, even if you brought all this on yourself,” she said.

  “For my erection, you mean?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “We can go somewhere if you like.”

  “I said a tiny bit, not enough to feel obligated to let you fuck me again.”

  Shane shrugged. “We’ll talk over dinner.”

  “Not about sex, we won’t. We are going to the restaurant to eat and that’s it. And don’t think about taking me into the restroom for a quickie. I do have some standards, believe it or not.”

  “No bathrooms,” he agreed. “They’re far too cramped, anyway.”

  Vicky frowned. She stopped talking and he followed suit. It was all about the cat and mouse, right?

  —

  Vicky walked into the restaurant without her panties. She had wanted them back, of course, while Shane had wanted them left on the rearview mirror for the valet. Shane had won.

  She was paranoid as hell that the car smelled like sex. The valet had made her blush crimson by leering as he opened the door for her and helped her out.

  Could he tell her pussy was naked under the skirt, still dripping wet and freshly satisfied?

  Satisfied was probably the wrong word. The orgasm had left her momentarily exhausted but with Shane so close to her in that little car, it was no time at all before she got worked up all over again. The scent of his cologne, the movement of his muscles as he shifted gears and navigated turns—everything about him was an aphrodisiac.

  She had fantasized about climbing on top of him, pulling her skirt out of the way, feverishly working his zipper and exposing his full, pulsing hard-on. She would have mounted him greedily, pushing his shaft deep inside all the way along the length of her aching canal.

  Oh god, why did this guy keep making her need sex so badly, and not just any sex but the outrageous, risky kind?

  It wasn’t as if he helped any with his constant antics, like patting her lightly on the ass as they walked into the restaurant. Mortified she looked for witnesses.

  “You’re lucky I don’t turn around and slap you,” she declared.

  His eyes smoldered, turning her legs to spaghetti. “You really expect me to keep my hands off you, Victoria? I’m a strong man but nobody’s that goddamn strong.”

  Their table was in the corner, dimly lit, a single candle on top of the linen covering. Shane slipped the maître d’ a fifty.

  “You planned this whole thing, didn’t you? Right down to that little stunt you pulled in the car.”

  He pulled her chair out for her, leaving open to another agonizing few moments of proximity
.

  “Guilty as charged, counselor.” He breathed the words into her ear.

  Vicky sighed, leaning back against him. She practically fell into the chair.

  She had gathered her wits by the time he had the wine arrived, a perfect choice for steak.

  “To us,” he toasted.

  “There is no us and just so you know,” she announced clinking her glass against his. “I am not going to play with myself at this table, so you can knock that perverted idea right out of your mind.”

  Shane shook his head. “I never repeat myself. Actually, I plan to take you in the alley out back.”

  Vicky sputtered the first sip of wine. “What did you say?”

  “There is an alley,” he said, smooth as ever. “Not too dirty, with a red brick wall to press a woman against, not too much light or activity, but you never know.”

  She stared, waiting for the punch line. “Do you actually mean to say that you want to make love…out back?”

  “Fucking is really more apropos, don’t you think—fast and dirty, like a couple of alley cats.”

  “Never, not in a million years.”

  Shane ordered prime rib, medium rare, for them. She was too exasperated to fight with him about picking out her food.

  Besides prime rib was her favorite.

  Not that he got credit for guessing that.

  The fucking jerk.

  “I’m serious this time,” she whispered fiercely as soon as the waiter walked away. “I’m drawing a line in the sand.”

  “Let’s not talk about it now. Later, when I have you against that wall, your legs wide, your bare ass absorbing the brick prints, you’ll be able to protest all you like. Not that it will change things. I am going to put my cock inside you and I am going to come. You will know it. You will feel it and you’ll thank me afterward.”

  “Now I know what Chase sees in you,” she said. “You get off on power, just like him. So why don’t you find yourself a nice submissive who will cream when you crack your whip.”

  “I don’t like whips and I don’t believe in throwing my weight around. I’m telling you how and when and where we’re going to fuck because it’s a fact and because I know it turns you on.”

  “Wrong again, Shane.”

  “You want a man to drag it out of you, match you stride for stride. That’s me, baby.”

  “You are not even close to a match.”

  “We seem to match up pretty well when we’re naked.”

  “Sex is nothing. You can duplicate it with anyone.”

  “So why haven’t you?”

  “Why haven’t I what?”

  “Had these experiences before, the ones you’re having with me?”

  “Who says I haven’t?” Vicky drank her wine. It killed her that this guy could cross-examine like frigging Johnny Cochrane. “So, can we talk about something else now?”

  “Nice weather we’re having. It will be about sixty-five degrees later, in the alley.”

  She slammed her hand on the table. “One more word and I walk. One more gesture, one more suggestive smile, and that’s the last straw.”

  “All right, you win.”

  “I what?” Vicky smelled a rat.

  “You win. No more sex talk. Tell me about your childhood.”

  Vicky laughed. “Oh come on, you expect me to believe that you are really interested in all that.”

  And what if he was? Would she really be ready to share?

  “I am not fond of word games, Vicky. If I ask something it’s because I want to know.”

  “You play word games all the time. Never mind. I had a perfect childhood, nothing went wrong, everyone loved me and now I’m a semi-rich lawyer.”

  “I’m flat broke,” he said. “As for my early years, they wouldn’t qualify as a childhood.”

  “Ah, so it’s a sympathy ploy. Is that your new seduction strategy?”

  “I don’t need a strategy, Victoria. Your body is already mine. You just don’t want to admit it.”

  “There you go, sex talk again.”

  “I believe if you check the transcript, counselor, you will see it was you who broached the subject.”

  Vicky narrowed her gaze. “Smartasses piss me off.”

  “I know, and it makes you ten times hotter.”

  She clenched her fists. She could see it in his eyes and she couldn’t get it out of her mind—the image of him pushing her against the alley wall, shoving his hard cock inside her, making her moan and beg and ultimately take his hot jets of cum.

  “Nothing’s happening after dinner, how many times do I have to tell you?”

  “You seem a little obsessed,” he pointed out.

  They took a time out when the salads arrived. She watched his lips, so strong and passionate.

  “Could you eat a little more quietly?” she said, though he wasn’t making a sound.

  “Certainly, Your Majesty,” he teased. “I bet you were named for her, weren’t you? Little Queen Victoria, running around the playground with her pinafore and patent leather shoes.”

  “Get a life, Shane.”

  “Just answer this. Why did you get in that boat with me in the first place?”

  Her stomach did a hot flip. She had been asking herself that very question nonstop. “I told you, I wanted to find out about you for Kat’s sake.”

  “By fucking me?”

  Vicky practically threw down her fork. “What is your fucking problem? One minute you’re all over me like a dog in heat and the next you are being snide and pushing me away.”

  “All part of the game, right?”

  Vicky hated Shane at that moment. If only she could just keep him out of her head…and her pants.

  “I wonder, Shane, what would you do if I gave it right back?”

  He arched a brow. “Interesting scenario.”

  “Maybe I’ll fuck you in the alley.”

  “Now that’s the Vicky I know and love.”

  She winced inwardly at the word love. He looked down, ostensibly to pick up his glass of wine. Was he as uncomfortable as she was?

  “So how did you and Chase meet?” she asked, rescuing them both.

  “We met at basic training in the Army. He was a pipsqueak but I managed to get his sorry ass through.”

  Vicky laughed. It was obvious how much he loved Chase. “I bet he would have a different view.”

  “And his would be wrong. Which is why he wears the suits now and I still put on camouflage.”

  “So you’re leaving on a new mission?” she asked a little too quickly.

  “Don’t start celebrating yet,” he quipped.

  She felt the pink on her cheeks. “I didn’t mean it that way.”

  So how had she meant it? Was she secretly afraid he would leave even as her conscious mind prayed for it?

  “It’s all right. I have been a pain in the ass, I know.”

  Say something. “You’ve had your moments.”

  Why was it so hard to compliment the man? It wasn’t as though she’d be obligated to marry him if she did.

  “As have you, darlin’.”

  “So tell me,” she said impulsively. “What’s the closest you’ve gotten to tying the knot?”

  He had that twinkle in his eyes. “Well there was this Polynesian chick I knew who was pretty fond of knots.”

  “No, fool, I meant marriage.”

  Shane smiled. He looked devilishly good in the candlelight, the contrasting shadows emphasizing the firm line of his jaw, the perfection of his dimples that made her want to kiss and touch every inch of his face. And those eyes, how many shades of blue were they capable of reflecting, anyway, and never the same shade twice?

  She thought of the ocean, the dreamy Caribbean. She could have lain in his arms forever on that island. If only life were so simple.

  “Marriage isn’t meant for everybody,” he said finally. “What about you?”

  “It isn’t meant for me either.” She had been ready once but fate had interve
ned. It seemed her fiancé had had a prior appointment, a terminal one on a ski slope in Vail.

  That’s what she got for loving a handsome jock with a fetish for everything extreme.

  “I have it all,” he used to say. “The hottest woman on the planet, whom any guy would kill for, a job that lets me play any time I want and the balls to keep it all.”

  Shane shook his head. “I disagree. You are the marrying kind. You just haven’t found the right person.”

  “If you say so.”

  “Hmm. You gave in awful easy there.”

  “First time for everything.”

  “You’re hiding something, counselor, what is it?”

  “What could I possibly hide from you?” she said sardonically. “You’ve helped yourself to all of it, where and when you’ve wanted.”

  “I’m talking about your heart, not your body.”

  “My heart is something you will never have,” she said firmly.

  Shane frowned.

  “What’s the matter, don’t like hearing no for an answer? Believe it or not, soldier boy, there are places locked up too tight even for you to break into.”

  “I don’t have to,” he said smugly, “because you’re going to let me in, sooner or later.”

  She shook her head at his arrogance. “You’re a piece of work.”

  “But I make you wet, girl, let’s not forget it.”

  “You know how to push my buttons,” she agreed as nonchalantly as possible. “That hardly makes you special.”

  “There’s a difference, all right,” he said, his eyes smoldering.

  Her toes curled. She knew she didn’t want to hear it. She asked anyway. “What?”

  “The difference is I’m the one guy who’s come after you and won’t let go. Now ask me why that is.”

  She rolled her eyes. “If I wanted to play a quiz game I would have stayed home and watched Jeopardy.”

  Shane was happily eating his prime rib.

  When had the food arrived?

  She cut off a small piece of the meat. It was perfect, though she didn’t have much of an appetite at the moment. “I don’t need to ask,” she informed him, unable to get the question out of her mind. “Because I already know what you’re going to say.”

  “And what’s that?”

  “You’re going to give me some speech about how I’m the most beautiful woman you’ve ever seen, blah, blah, blah and you just have to have me again.”