Before We Kiss
Page 25“They’re kissing!”
“I don’t get the big deal.”
Dellina started to smile. “Oh, I think you will in a little bit. This is going to be one interesting and mellow barbecue.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Another couple joined Bill and Marie. They spoke to each other, as they had all weekend. But there was a notable difference.
Dellina put her hand on Sam’s arm and turned him toward the couples. “Look at them. What do you see?”
“I don’t know. People I know.”
“People you know who just had mind-blowing sex. I’m going to guess that more than a few of your guests used your mother’s techniques and enjoyed them.”
“Holy crap,” Sam muttered. “You think so?” He groaned before she could answer. “You’re right. Look at them. What have we done?”
She stepped in front of him. “We’ve helped happy couples reconnect in an intimate way. This is a good thing. I know your mother can be intrusive and that she doesn’t respect boundaries, but that doesn’t mean her information isn’t valid. Don’t you think this is going to make your clients feel even better about working with your company?”
“I don’t want them talking about sex or doing things my mother taught them in front of me.”
She laughed. “Yeah, that would be uncomfortable for all of us. But I say just go with it.”
He sighed. “Why couldn’t I have been born into a normal family?”
“Then you wouldn’t be who you are.”
“I guess.” He shook his head. “Okay, time for a barbecue.”
“I’m on it.”
She started to walk away. Sam grabbed her hand and held her in place. She turned toward him.
“Yes?”
“Want me to show you those pressure points later?”
Dellina thought about how he’d made her feel the day before and that was without trying too hard. If he really put some effort into it, who knew what would happen?
In less than a second, her skin burned and she felt swelling in all the girl places.
“Is it possible to die from too good an orgasm?” she asked.
He grinned. “No.”
“Then, sure. Let’s have a lab experiment with the pressure points. You know my room number.”
“I do.”
FOR DELLINA, THE EVENING couldn’t pass quickly enough. The barbecue seemed to take forever. She’d never known people to eat so slowly. Part of it was how the other couples were so attentive to each other. She saw more than one pair feeding each other.
But as soon as the kids started to get sleepy, parents hurried away. She stayed until the last of their guests had headed upstairs, then checked with the staff to make sure everything was ready for the morning brunch.
Once her work was complete, she was free to leave. There was only one problem—she hadn’t seen Sam in over an hour. Had he forgotten their plans for the evening? Had he just been kidding?
This was what was difficult about sleeping with someone she wasn’t dating. There was no good way to ask. If she and Sam were actually together, then they would have a pattern. Or at least regular conversation. Although in truth, Sam had been with her for much of the weekend. And he’d been living with her for the past few days.
“I’m tired,” she told herself as she made her way to the elevators. “I’ll figure it out after all this is done.”
She would give him fifteen minutes after she was in her room, then she was going to take a shower and crawl into bed. While not as exciting as a couple of hours in his arms, being rested had its benefits.
She stepped out onto the floor and headed for her room. After using her card key, she let herself inside.
Her room was of the standard variety. A bed, a couple of chairs and a bathroom beyond. She had a view of the mountains, not that she’d had the chance to look at it. It wasn’t as if she’d had time to relax over the past couple of days. Still, she knew what to expect and what she found this evening was different.
The first thing she noticed was how a few of the lights were on, but not the bright ones. The covers had been pulled back on the bed and there was a standing ice bucket by the nightstand, along with a bottle of champagne.
She turned to her left and saw Sam sitting in one of the chairs. He was in shadow, but she could see enough of him to know he was wearing jeans...and nothing else.
Funny how the sight of a bare-chested, handsome man could get her tummy to dancing, she thought as she put her purse on the table by the door and stepped out of her flats.
“Did I give you a key to my room?” she asked.
He stood. “No.”
“I didn’t think so. Should I ask how you got in?”
“If you really want to know.”
He crossed to her. His expression was unreadable. Intense, she thought. Hungry. Unable to help herself, she put her palms flat on his chest and felt warm skin and hard muscle. He was sculpted and beautiful in the most masculine definition of the words.
She was tired and stressed from the weekend, ready for it all to be over. What she needed was sleep. What she wanted was him.
She slid her hands down his rock-hard belly to the waistband of his jeans. She unfastened the button, then lowered the zipper. His erection made the latter difficult, but she persevered. She tucked her thumbs inside the waistband, by his sides, and then pushed the denim down. As she moved she caught the top of the briefs and dragged them along.
When she reached about midthigh, he took over and shoved his clothes to the floor, then stepped out of them.
He was completely na**d and she was, except for her shoes, fully dressed. There was something kind of cool about that, she thought. Exciting. Heat seemed to bubble up inside of her, making her skin extrasensitive. Just looking at him made her want to touch. Touching made her think about them being together, and that was more than enough to make her br**sts ache and her center swell.
He was aroused. His erection jutted toward her. She wanted him inside of her, but she wanted other things, too.
She stepped to his side and put her palm on his belly. Her pinkie and ring finger were nestled in the hair at his groin. She moved behind him. She rested her free hand on the small of his back before slowly―oh, so slowly―lowering it over his butt.The curve was muscled and hard, like most of the rest of him. It was also warm, and touching him like this was arousing. She’d seen him play football the previous day. Sam really was a gifted athlete.
She continued to move that hand around his side, while keeping the other still on his stomach. She eased closer, so that her belly pressed against his ass while her lips nibbled along his right shoulder blade. Her left hand kept moving down his hip, then across to the top of his thigh.
His breath caught. She moved the hand holding his balls, shifting to get into position.
“I think I’m supposed to do something like this,” she murmured into his back, searching for the pressure points Lark had described. At the same time, she closed her fingers around his arousal and began to stroke him.
“If I find them and push on them,” she continued, “you’ll get unbearably close, but won’t go over the edge. What did she call it? Orgasm without release?”
Using her middle finger the way Lark had explained, she gently applied pressure just under the apex of his scrotum. She found the other positions for her fingers. As she continued to move her right hand up and down, she increased the pressure with her left until Sam’s breath increased and his body began to shake. She could feel him getting closer and closer, but if Lark was right, there was no way he was going to have an orgasm. The other woman had claimed a man could go like this for hours.
“Dellina,” he began.
“Shh. Let me enjoy this for a few more minutes.”
“What if my mother’s wrong?”
She considered the question, then pressed her mouth to his spine. “I suppose I’ll have to let you make me come a couple of times while we wait for you to recover. I’m not sure I see a bad in that.”
She decided to test the theory and moved her hand faster and faster. She felt him get even bigger, and if his rapid breathing was anything to go by, he was incredibly close. But no matter how she caressed him and how his breath caught and he trembled, he didn’t cl**ax.
She slowed her hand. Lark had been very clear to stop that stimulation before releasing the pressure points, or there was going to be a mess everywhere. After giving him a second to catch his breath, she drew away both hands.
She was about to say how fun that was, but before she could speak Sam was spinning her to face him. In less than a nanosecond, her shirt was off, her bra was flying, his hands were on her br**sts and he was kissing her with more passion than she’d ever felt before in her life. His lips claimed, his tongue demanded and as she wrapped her arms around him, she thought maybe this standing thing was highly overrated.
She hung on, loving the feel of him so close. He teased her breasts, concentrating on her hard, tight nipples. He touched and stroked until she was writhing. Her jeans were heavy and very much in the way. She wanted them both na**d, preferably with him inside of her.
“Sam,” she breathed against his mouth.
He drew back just enough to bend over and pick her up in his arms. She shrieked and hung on as he carried her to the bed. He set her down on her back. After unzipping her jeans, he took them and her panties off.
Better, she thought, liking that he was still incredibly hard. All that for her.
He had already poured a couple of glasses of champagne. Now he took a drink from one but didn’t swallow. He got on the bed, slipped between her legs and gave her an openmouthed kiss right on her clitoris. He was hot, the champagne was cold and fizzy and she couldn’t help gasping. Or possibly shrieking.
The sensations were incredible. Especially when he moved his tongue through the champagne. Hot and cold mingled, as did the bubbles dancing across her most sensitive spot. He swallowed and sat up enough to reach for the glass again.
This time she was prepared, or so she’d thought. Because she wasn’t the only one who had been paying attention during the lecture. As Sam gave her another openmouthed kiss, he pressed his knuckle right at the base of her clit. He moved it up and down in tiny increments. She braced herself because Lark had warned them that when the man found the right—
“Oh, please!” she gasped, not caring that she was begging.
He’d found it. The nerve, the connection, the whatever it was that made her hypersensitive to everything he was doing. If his tongue on her was usually a nine, this was a two hundred. She could feel the individual champagne bubbles, and when he moved his tongue, she went from aroused to on the verge of cl**axing in a single exhale.
Only she didn’t. She was there—right there. So close she could see it. Feel it. Beg for it. But there was no over the top.
He swallowed the champagne and continued to stroke her with his tongue. She gasped, she writhed, she pumped her hips. So. Damn. Close. Right on the edge.
With every stroke, she knew she was finally going to fall. She’d never felt anything so arousing. But she couldn’t get to the other side.
He shifted and pushed two fingers inside of her.
“If you don’t like it, I’ll stop,” he promised.
She nodded and sucked in a breath.
She was so in tune with all he was doing. Every nerve ending was electrified. She felt the delicious pressure of his fingers sliding through her swollen body. Deeper and deeper before he slowly―oh, so slowly―curved up his fingers to that magical G-spot. At the same time, he pushed in with his knuckle and sucked her cl*tinto his mouth.
She gasped as pleasure poured through her. The fingers inside of her stroked and circled. His tongue danced against her center. She got closer and closer, so near that she started to shake. Her leg muscles trembled, her hands shook.
“Please,” she begged, tossing her head back and forth. “Please.”
The knuckle released and the intensity faded a tiny bit. He withdrew his fingers and at the same time raised his head. Her arousal rate dropped enough that she could breathe but the deep, aching need to cl**ax didn’t fade.
“Is that what I did to you?” she asked.
He shifted onto his knees and reached for a condom. “Pretty much.”
“I’m sorry.”
His mouth curved into a slow, sexy grin. “Don’t be.”
“But I left you hanging.”
“I knew we’d get there eventually.”
He slid on a condom.
“Top or bottom?” he asked.
An interesting question.
She put her hand on his wrist and guided his hand between her thighs. He began to rub her. She spread her legs more and let herself sink into the sensation of him rhythmically circling her swollen center.
“If I’m on top, can you do that pressure point thing again?” she asked. “Help me hold back until you’re ready.”
Something bright flashed in his eyes. “I can do that.”
“Then top.”
“You’re my kind of girl.”
She wasn’t really, she thought as she watched him lie down. She enjoyed sex, but she wasn’t usually so...comfortable. Maybe it was exhaustion, or the pressure points. Either way, she didn’t care. She felt sexy and alive. Her body hummed. She had never in her life guided a man’s hand to her body the way she just had with Sam, yet it had felt completely right.