Operation G-spot. Jodi Lynn Copeland
handle just talking around me. You want to move straight to the biting. Next thing you know, we’ll be licking each other, then sucking, blowing, fondling…” Hearing her breathing quicken, he came to his feet. “My mother doesn’t know the difference between vegetable oil and olive oil.”
Liz stood. “There is one?” She looked quizzical but sounded slightly breathless.
Another time he would have laughed at both the naïveté (there was a word he would never have thought to associate with her) of the question and her stimulated response to his remark. Now he focused on speaking without emotion coming into play. “Yes, there is. The point is my mother’s never cooked, or for that matter worked a real job, a day in her life. She was born into a wealthy family and married into the same. A hired chef does the cooking.”
“That had to be nice when you were young, having her around to take care of you and your siblings instead of staying with a sitter.”
He snorted. Nice, right. They’d been a regular fucking Partridge Family. “I have two brothers, and I said my mother never worked a real job, not that she stayed home. Mom spent all her time volunteering for my father’s company and with anyone else who needed help, so long as it kept her out of the house. Staying away from us kids was one of the few things my parents agreed on.” Disgust bled into his words. He gentled his tone as he added, “A live-in assistant took care of us.”
A frown flirted with Liz’s lips. “Well, I’m sure he or she was nice.”
“Yeah, by the time I was nine, I knew more than I ever cared to about being a gentleman in polite society.”
Her frown appeared full force. “What about being a kid?”
She looked almost sorry for him; it was the last thing he wanted or would have expected. Time to get things back on track and remember his mission here.
Grinning, Dusty looked at her breasts hugged alluringly by the stretch of her white apron and the pale blue T-shirt beneath. He waggled his eyebrows. “I’m working on that part now. Whaddya say I come over there and show you what a naughty little boy I can be?”
Though he could tell she fought it, a smile curved her lips, lightening the deep blue of her eyes and softening her tough-girl edge. “I’d say you’d be wise to stop fantasizing and focus on the pie.”
His grin kicked higher. She gave that genuine smile to Colin with regularity, but never had it been aimed Dusty’s way. It felt damned good. “And your excuse is?”
“My excuse?” Her voice took on a defensive note.
“For acting the way you do,” he clarified, regretting the way the question diminished her smile.
She planted a hand at her hip, and the last traces of her smile disappeared. “Just how the hell do you think I act?”
Most of the students had already left. Obviously, Liz wasn’t concerned about making a good impression on the remaining few. Still, he kept his voice lowered as he responded with a shrug. “Bitchy around me, cynical around most everyone else.”
The instructor’s voice resonated from the front of the room. “We have a couple more minutes before class is over. If you need more time, you’re welcome to stay after and finish; just leave the final product in the refrigerator, and I’ll pick them up for grading in the morning.”
The last of the students took their pies up to the instructor and then left. After asking Liz and Dusty to turn off the lights when they were finished and informing them the door would lock automatically behind them, the instructor left as well.
Tension filled the room the instant the door closed behind the man. Liz jammed her hands in the back pockets of her jeans and looked toward the oven. Even turned away from him, Dusty could hear her every breath, coming too fast, too loud. A glance at the floor revealed her shifting foot to foot. His first observation of her tonight was that she’d seemed nervous to see him. As uncharacteristic as the mood was for her, she was definitely nervous now.
Was she afraid to be alone with him? Afraid she would give in and let him finish the job he’d started twice now? Afraid he would show her exactly where her G-spot was and that it wanted his touch so badly, it was ready to stand up and beg?
What would it matter if she did give in? She made no secret of her reputation for getting around. This had to be about ego. She’d told him that he’d blown his chance of sleeping with her again, and she was determined to see the words through. He would make her ecstatic to see that determination falter.
“I can finish this alone,” she said tightly. “I’m sure you have plans.”
“This is my only obligation for the night. I can handle things, though, if you’re in a rush to see Aiden.”
Liz glanced back to send him a confused look. “Aiden?”
Relief shot through Dusty. She either had a truly shitty memory, the way she’d accused him of having three nights ago, or there hadn’t been a man waiting outside for her that night. The wet, hot state of her body had been exactly as Dusty had believed, all because of him, all for him. That level of excitement was nothing a man who was a failure at sex could accomplish.
He took a step toward her. “Your new boy toy.”
Wariness flashed over her face with his next step. “Oh. Right. Aiden.” Her gaze shifted from his eyes to his mouth, and she swallowed audibly. “The things that man can do with his tongue.” Huskiness peppered her words.
If she was thinking about any man’s tongue, it was Dusty’s. His blood warmed with the knowledge she wanted his kiss, his tongue pushing between her lush lips and thoroughly loving her mouth. He took a last step forward. The way she had her hands stuffed in her pockets accentuated the already snug play of the apron across her tits. The soft mounds rose and fell rapidly. His dick throbbed.
He reached out. She gasped and jerked her hands from her pockets to splay them in front of her. Clearly, she thought her body was his hand’s destination. Soon. Very soon, he would touch her. But only when she was ready for it. Only when she was admitting that she wanted his hands on her.
Grasping the refrigerator door handle, he pulled the door open and took out the whipped cream they’d made earlier in the night. He fingered a dollop out of the bowl and licked the cool cream from his finger. “Mmm…We do great things together. This is the second best cream I’ve ever tasted.”
Liz’s throat worked visibly. He could almost hear her heart slamming against her rib cage, mimicking the mad beat of his own. He stuck his finger back in the bowl, trailed it through the whipped cream, and brought the digit to an inch from his mouth.
Concentrating on her plump naked lips, parted slightly and issuing the sexiest little gasps he’d ever heard, Dusty murmured, “Do you want to know what the first is?”
“Tonight was okay. Don’t ruin it by telling me.” The words held no bite. No sarcasm. Just a breathy edge that grabbed him by the throat and made him want to do so much more than just tell her about his favorite cream. And he would, and the only things that might get ruined in the process were her clothes when he ripped them from her body.
“I got a better idea, babe. How ’bout I show you?”
4
“Dusty…” The one-word warning was all Liz could get out, and she was amazed it even came out sounding relatively calm. She didn’t feel calm. She felt like her heart and her pussy were having a contest to see which would explode first.
He extended his hand toward her mouth, until his whipped-cream-covered finger hovered inches from her desert-dry lips. “Try it,” he urged in a rough whisper.
She wanted to, wanted to lick his finger off slowly, sensuously. Suck every last bit of cream away. The memory of sucking the salty-sweet cum from his dick as he’d climaxed in her mouth pushed through her mind and further heated the molten liquid burning in her sex.
He