Sweet as Candy - Karla Doyle Page 0,13
I’m thinking about baseball.”
A lock of hair fell over her shoulder as she gently shook her head. “Is that what all guys think about when they’re trying not to think about sex?”
“Can’t speak for all guys, but it’s usually my go-to distraction topic.” His admission won him a smile and a hit of laughter. “But I wasn’t thinking about baseball for that reason right now. I was wondering if you’re planning to take this sexy little demonstration from first base to second.” He leaned in, filling the space between her knees without touching her. “I’m happy to sit here and watch you play with yourself if the urge strikes, but that doesn’t make me a customer.”
An angry-kitten-like rumble rose from her pursed lips as she withdrew her hand from between her legs. “What makes you think I won’t use your name and badge number to file a bogus complaint the second you walk out the door?”
“You might. You might not. Guess I’ll find out.”
“Ah, now I see. The possibility of getting caught excites you.”
“Not the way you’re implying.”
She considered him briefly, then sat forward, teasing the shell of his ear with her lips and warm breath. “Liar, liar, are your pants on fire? Your pupils are dilated and your hands are curled into balls at your sides. Stop trying to play the good guy and the next twenty-five minutes will be very exciting. Might as well collect what you paid for, Officer Campbell, because when I make that call to report you, I’m going to give a detailed account of the filthy things you made me do after flashing your badge.”
Bullshit. He’d seen the fear in her eyes when she originally learned he was a cop. She wasn’t calling anything in, legit or otherwise. He could tell her as much. Probably should. But with her hair and lips tickling his skin, his good intentions nosedived into his lap, where her hand had just landed.
“Filthy things, huh?”
“Very. I’ll say you handcuffed my arms behind my back and ordered me to my knees so you could stuff your big, hot cock down my throat. I’ll say you bent me over the chair and put your nightstick in my mouth like a bridle so I wouldn’t make noise while you rode me hard from behind.”
“Sexy story, but you need to change one detail.” He cupped her chin in one hand and forced her to meet his gaze. “I’d never muzzle you. I’d want to hear every gasp, moan and scream. I’d want to hear you panting my name when you came. And I would make you come, sweets. It wouldn’t be over until you did.”
Candace
Candace stared at him. Partly because his grip left her no choice, partly because she didn’t want to look away.
Jake wasn’t the first client to tell her he wanted her to come. When customers wanted her to climax while they screwed, she obliged by offering up a fake orgasm guaranteed to make them feel like the reigning king of Vajayjay Land. Jake wasn’t the first client to talk dirty to her either.
Something that was a first, though—her body’s reaction to a man’s words. Her skin didn’t have its usual crawly sensation, nor was she numb. She was tingling. All over. When she curled her fingers around the thick ridge inside his jeans, it wasn’t strictly for his benefit.
“Want to know my favorite part of that story you told?” he asked.
No acting required as she breathlessly whispered, “Yes.”
“Knowing you imagined us doing those things.” With a wink, he shifted to his original position—back against the wall, body out of her reach. “Why didn’t you finish your degree?”
She shook her head in an attempt to clear the lust-laden fog. Her previous academic endeavor couldn’t be what he really wanted to discuss. Not after the way he’d responded to her sexy-times story.
“Pardon me?”
“Your psychology degree,” he said. “I didn’t go to university, but four credits don’t seem like they’d take long to complete.”
Wow. This wasn’t going at all the way she’d expected. That didn’t happen often, especially with men. “It’d take less than a year if I went back full-time.” One semester, actually. One measly semester.
“Sounds like you’re planning to go back and finish it up.”
“Wishing, not planning.”
“Wishing is for things you can’t control. Winning the lottery, perfect weather while you’re on vacation, stuff like that. Everything else requires a plan. Planning plus action equals getting what you want.”
“Are you a life coach when you’re off-duty?” For effect, she clutched the arm