Phoenix Burning Page 7

  “You’ve never climaxed. Never?”

  She headed off his next question. “Not even by myself.”

  “Why not?”

  How could she explain her emotional hang-ups to someone like Alex, who always seemed so self-assured? He’d brought her more pleasure than anyone else had ever managed. She’d tried having sex a total of three times before Alex. Each had been disastrous, the last one ending when her partner declared her a total nut job and left while still trying to pull his pants back on.

  O babes, O babes, if you were mine

  All alone and lone

  I'd dress you up in silk, so fine

  All down by th’ greenwood side

  The song slipped through her mind, taunting her. Her mother might have wanted something better for her children, but in the end the only legacy they’d inherited had been pain and emotional turmoil.

  He reached out and cupped her cheek in his hand. “I’m not trying to pry, Emory. I just want to understand.”

  “I guess I’ve never been very good at letting people get close to me.” That was an understatement of epic proportions, but she didn’t know what else to say. Unloading all of her baggage at once would probably make him the second guy to grab his clothes and bolt.

  There was a lot of thinking going on behind his intense blue gaze. She wished she could read minds. Did he think she was insane? Was he angry that she’d tried to fake an orgasm? She was still reeling from the knowledge that he could tell the difference. That was something she’d never experienced before. Her other potential bedmates had gone through the foreplay and she’d faked an orgasm or two just to keep them interested. It’d always worked like a charm. Maybe if she’d tried to fake one during foreplay? Except that Alex was different. Wasn’t that what had drawn her to him to begin with?

  The silence was growing heavy. She felt the need to absolve him of any sort of responsibility for her problem. “You can go if you want.”

  He made a low sound in his throat. Before she could respond, he’d wrapped his arms around her and pulled her down into the bed. He dragged the rumpled duvet over their bodies and she snuggled into his warmth. The spicy male scent of his skin enveloped her senses.

  “I know I’m not your first.” He tilted her chin up and she found she was unable to look away. “Did your other lovers not notice or not care?”

  “Both?”

  “Fuckers.”

  The unexpected venom in his tone made her laugh. “There were only three tries before you. And not all of them made it to the finale.”

  “Meaning?”

  Embarrassed, she wanted to look away but couldn’t. “Sometimes I have these spells. I guess you could call them panic attacks. I kind of freeze up. It happened the first two times before we got very far. The last time it happened in the middle. I think he thought I was crazy.”

  She could see him mulling this over, probably wondering when she’d go catatonic on him and he’d need to cut and run. It was something she’d wondered herself. What made Alex different? Instead of triggering the darkness, he brought the light.

  There was still something bothering her about their failed romantic interlude. “I feel bad that I left you hanging like that.”

  His arms tightened briefly. Cupping her cheek, he ran his thumb across her lower lip. The contact sent a riot of chills across her skin and a jolt of heat to her pussy. She abruptly wanted more. She wanted his cock back inside her, thrusting deep, hitting that sweet spot that brought such intense pleasure. Even though the lack of completion had started to grow almost painful, she wanted to feel as close to him as she had when they were locked together.

  “I’ll live. It’s you I’m worried about. Going your whole life without an orgasm is just bollocks.”

  The crass phrase sounded almost charming in his muted accent. “How does a guy working in a bar in Middle America wind up with a British accent? Or do you use it to pick up girls?”

  “I spent six years in Britain and Wales when I was in the Army. And yes, it definitely helps me pick up women.” He placed a light kiss on her lips. “Did it work on you?”

  She nipped his full lower lip, feeling brave and playful. “Definitely not. It was your telling me to get out that really rang my bell.”

  “That hurts worse than the case of blue balls I’m going to have tomorrow.”

  An idea hit her all at once, making her feel nervous and excited as a schoolgirl. “Alex, could I—could you show me how to…?” She made a gesture at his groin.

  His next kiss was deep and slow, his tongue sliding sexily into her mouth, rubbing against hers in a teasing rhythm that made her whimper. A warm, wet heat built in her core. The empty ache intensified until she wanted to beg him to put his cock inside her. It was unlike anything she’d ever felt before, desire and longing for something she couldn’t quite grasp.

  “Emory, are you asking if you can give me a hand job?”

  “I think so.”

  He didn’t grab her hand and yank it to his crotch like she expected. Instead, he gently threaded his fingers through hers, bringing them to his lips. His whispered exhale across her knuckles sent another jolt of desire straight to her pussy. When he began leading her hand across the tightly muscled expanse of his torso toward his erection, she held her breath in suspense.

  “Take my shaft in your hand. Don’t be afraid to hold on.” He showed her how to grip him in her palm. “Slide it up and down, like this.”

  His skin was wonderfully resilient, warm, and satiny. Beneath the surface he was iron hard, his erection growing harder with each pump. “Oh! It’s wet.” The place where she rested against his torso went rigid as her thumb glided through the dampness streaming from the hole at the tip of his penis.

  Precum. The word drifted through her consciousness. It was so warm and silky. Without thinking, she leaned down and brushed her lips over the fluid. It tasted clean and sweet, like Alex’s kisses.

  “Fuck.” His breath was coming in gasps.

  Feeling bolder, she experimented with her hand and her lips, pumping his shaft while she tickled the head of his thick cock with the tip of her tongue. She sped up the tempo, using his expressions as a gauge. Quick circles around the crown drove him wild. A little suction had him gasping for breath. Beneath her hand, the long vein on the underside of his penis grew taut, bulging outward.

  “Alex?”

  He jerked beneath her, his hand covering hers, bearing down. Fascinated, Emory watched the vein pulse. A stream of white fluid burst from the end to bathe the lower portion of his belly with semen.

  Drawing in a ragged breath, Emory was surprised to realize her heart was hammering in her chest. Creamy juice seeped from her pussy, coating the insides of her thighs. A few more minutes and she’d be humping his leg like a dog. Was it normal to get this turned on when you gave someone a hand job?

  His breathing had started to regulate, his chest rising and falling evenly. Wondering if he would think she was insane, Emory reached out and brushed her fingers through the white fluid on his belly. It was thick and silky to the touch.

  “What are you doing?”

  She was glad to see there was curiosity and not disgust on his face. “My body doesn’t come with any of this stuff. I just want to see what it feels like.”

  His bark of laughter seemed to catch him by surprise. “You don’t think you have any of this ‘stuff’ huh?”

  “Women don’t ejaculate.”

  “Not true.”

  A searing heat below her belly wiped all of the amusement from her mind. She didn’t know if it was pure fascination or arousal that made her pussy clench at the thought of female ejaculation. What might that be like? Did it make the climax more pleasurable?

  His hand dipped low, sliding between her legs. Two of his fingers swept through her damp slit before he lifted them to his mouth. She froze, captivated by the sight of him licking her fluids from his fingers.

  The smile that curved his lips made her squirm with need.
“You taste like heaven.”

  Life was never going to be the same again. Emory wanted to keep going. She wanted to do this over and over again. Except that she was supposed to be downstairs running the store.

  Damn reality.

  Alex seemed to read her mind, his gaze going to the bedside table where her clock ticked away the minutes. “I’m late for work.”

  She searched for a sign of irritation on his face and saw none. “I’m sorry I kept you.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous.” He gave her another lingering kiss. “The bar closes around one tonight. If you’re not busy, I’d love to buy you another drink.”

  Her heart leaped at the thought. “I’d like that.”

  Chapter Eight

  Alex slipped in through the back door and picked up the apron he’d discarded earlier. He tied it in place, walked down the hall, and ducked back behind the bar.

  “Are you fucking kidding me?” Connor looked up from the draft beer he was pouring. “Do you know what time it is?”

  “Sure. Why? Did you misplace your phone again?” Normally he wouldn’t have had any problem admitting exactly why he was late. For whatever reason, Alex didn’t feel like discussing what had happened at Emory’s apartment. That was between her and him.

  “Quickie, Alex, get a dictionary and look it up.” Connor put the beer on a tray with five more and set them on the bar for Jessa to pick up. “Or next time just bring her here and fuck her behind the bar. You can get laid and work at the same time. That’s what I call efficient.”

  The anger was as unexpected as it was fierce. One second Alex was calm, the next he had Connor backed up against the bar with a forearm across his windpipe. The lethal beast behind his friend’s civil exterior roared into action a split second before Connor twisted out of Alex’s grip. They grappled for the advantage, Alex blinded by emotions so complex he couldn’t get a handle on them.

  “Connor! Alex! Stop!” The alarm in Jessa’s voice sliced across Alex’s consciousness and he instantly stepped away. Connor did the same.

  He felt drained as he watched Jessa fling herself at Connor, her hands brushing over his face and chest. Connor watched him with understanding in his hell-black gaze. It made Alex feel worse. “I’m sorry.”

  “No.” Connor soothed Jessa with his hands, rubbing her back. “I’m the one who’s sorry. I’ll watch what I say next time.”

  They’d snagged the attention of several customers. Now wasn’t the time for one of Connor’s deep discussions. Alex slapped a good-natured smile on his face and waved Connor back to his post along the wall. “Later.”

  “Don’t think I’ll forget.”

  No doubt.

  * * *

  Emory wished Fox was there to help her pick an outfit. She’d spent the entire afternoon and evening daydreaming about having sex with Alex. A steady trickle of customers had kept her somewhat occupied. By the time she closed up shop, there were fifteen orders due by Monday afternoon. Unfortunately she’d had no luck trying to get them finished. She’d started and abandoned five different arrangements, unable to focus on the task long enough to see what she was trying to create. One was a time-consuming casket piece she really needed to get moving on. What was she doing instead? Standing in front of her closet, trying to find something that would show Alex she could be just as sexy and adventurous as the blonde who’d given him a blowjob the night before.

  This is hopeless.

  The fundamental problem was that Emory wasn’t sexy and adventurous. She was as inexperienced at being seductive as she was at having sex.

  A sudden thought had her looking around for her shoes and wallet. Morgan.

  Accessories & More was an ambiguously named store around the corner from her apartment that carried a wide selection of provocative clothing and sex toys. As always, Emory took the back way, which allowed her to go out the rear exit of her shop, cross a public parking area, and duck into Morgan’s store through her back door.

  The weather was unusually mild for spring, the night sky clear enough to see the first stars twinkling overhead. Emory felt like a teenager getting ready for her first date. Was this what you were supposed to feel like about the person you were dating?

  Except I’m not really dating Alex.

  Like Blooming Buds, Morgan’s store was housed in one of the historic downtown buildings. A rear porch overhung the back door, the stairs providing a fire exit from Morgan’s upstairs apartment. Emory ducked beneath a hanging basket of bright pink geraniums and into the store.

  “Morgan? I really need your help.” She started to enter the main sales floor from the storage area but stopped when she heard a horribly familiar voice.

  “Sign this petition and I’ll use my influence to take some of the pressure off your store.” Donovan MacIntyre was standing beside a rack of rainbow-colored platform heels.

  “Is that right?” Morgan propped her hands on her hips and gave him a scathing glare.

  Emory wished she could pull off one of Morgan’s wild-girl ensembles. Her friend wore a pleated black and white houndstooth skirt that barely cleared her butt cheeks. The creamy tops of her breasts peeked out of the purple bra visible beneath her black scoop neck top, and she wore a pair of fishnet stockings with her combat boots. With her dyed black hair piled on top of her head and her glittery eye makeup, she looked sexier than the cover models featured on the merchandise.

  MacIntyre took a threatening step toward Morgan. “The chamber of commerce has had several complaints about your window displays, and they’ve come up several times during my discussions with the other aldermen. I’ve suggested to several of them that we move to shut you down.”

  “Gosh, if you close me down, where will all of your members go to buy their porn and sex toys?” Morgan’s smirk could’ve peeled paint.

  “You can only fuel a business with attitude for so long, Ms. Talley. After that you’ve got to put up or shut up.” Swelling with righteousness, MacIntyre headed for the front door.

  “I’ll remember that the next time one of your girlfriends comes in here looking to supplement her shitty sex life.”

  Emory sucked in a deep breath, wishing she could handle MacIntyre with some of Morgan’s flair. Confrontations were not her thing. Had Alex not stepped into her shop earlier, there was no telling what kind of awkward position MacIntyre’s lunch date would have put her in.

  “He’s gone, Em. You can come out now.”

  Emory emerged from the back hall, peeking over a rack of lacy lingerie to make sure MacIntyre’s sports car had left the curb.

  “Why are you hiding from that douche bag anyway?” Morgan hopped up on her glass counter and picked up a price gun. “He’s full of shit. You should hear the way his employees talk about him. The guy spends half his time sexually harassing them. One of these days those girls are going to grow some brass balls, and he’s going to wind up in court.”

  “He’s been coming by the shop a lot lately.” Emory had never mentioned MacIntyre’s increasingly frequent visits to Morgan.

  Morgan looked up from the sticky mess of price tags she was trying to fix. “I told you dating him was a bad idea. What possessed you to do something like that anyway?”

  “I told you. He asked.” It was impossible to explain her reasoning to someone like Morgan.

  “You can’t go out with a guy just because he asks. You have to wait for something worthwhile.”

  Like Alex. “I don’t get asked much. I hate to turn down something when it might be a year before someone else bothers.”

  Morgan set the gun aside. “A year? C’mon, Em. Be serious.”

  It was like a flashback of high school, when the socially awkward preacher’s daughter had come to school in her dowdy sack-shaped denim dresses with her hair strangled into a bun. Her father would never have allowed her to date, but it would’ve been heaven to be asked. To be wanted.

  “You are serious.” Morgan’s carefully shaped eyebrows lifted in surprise. “I always figured you w
ere just picky about your dates.”

  Since they were on the subject of men in general, Emory wondered how she could steer Morgan around to the topic of Alex without being too obvious. “Not all of us can be like you. You change guys like underwear.”

  “Except I don’t wear underwear,” Morgan quipped.

  “You know, there might be something to that easy-access approach. Maybe I should try it.”

  “Hang on.” Morgan’s gaze narrowed. “You met somebody, didn’t you? That’s what all this is about!”

  Emory was momentarily speechless. She’d been going for subtle. How the hell had Morgan deduced all of that from one sentence? The worry that her friend might not approve of Alex bubbled to the surface. “Would you be mad if I was seeing someone you used to date?”

  “Who?”

  “Alex Dalesio.”

  Morgan’s expressive eyebrows nearly launched off her face. “Lucky girl! And we never dated. We fucked. Definitely a difference.”

  “That’s pretty much what we’re doing too.” Emory tried to sound nonchalant, but didn’t know how. She didn’t have enough experience in the world of casual sex to know how to seem unaffected. “That’s how Alex does things, isn’t it?”

  “A week here, a month there? Yeah, that sums it up.”

  She thought of Alex’s dancing blue eyes and brilliant smile. A band of tension wrapped around her heart. Maybe she wasn’t cut out for this casual stuff. “So, how do you know when he’s losing interest? I mean, can you predict an expiration date? You know. So I’ll have a heads-up.”

  “A heads-up?” Morgan jumped lightly off the counter. “How long has this been going on?”

  “Like twenty-four hours?”

  “Oh, sweetie.”

  Emory felt suddenly lightheaded. “Maybe this isn’t such a good idea.” She thought of the way it felt when he held her in his arms, the scent of his skin and the taste of his lips. Casual sex meant those things weren’t hers to keep.