Real Men Do It Better Read online

  “You can touch yourself while you listen to me.”

  “Not good enough.”

  “It will be, I promise. I’ll make you think it’s me … me touching you.” She abandoned the pretense with the phone and sat up straighter, running her hands over her thighs, over her breasts, into her hair. Her lips felt swollen twice their normal size and she pouted them like some kind of 1950s sex kitten. “Me with my mouth on your body. Kissing and licking and sucking.”

  He dropped the phone. Shoved his hand beneath the toile throw.

  “Show it to me. Let me see that big hammer, Thor.”

  Gabe let out a short, hard laugh through clenched teeth. “This is too—”

  “Play along and I’ll take off my clothes, too.”

  “All right. But no more Thor.”

  She hid her momentary alarm. No fantasy—he wanted this to be real.

  “And I can’t touch you,” he added.

  She was surprised again. “We’ll see about that.”

  “I’m serious.”

  “But I can touch you?” she guessed.

  His hips tilted. He winced. “Nope. No touching.”

  “Whatever you say.” She shrugged and undid several buttons so she could pull her shirt off one shoulder. Before she was finished with him, he’d be begging to make contact.

  His gaze went to the hollow between her breasts, full and swaying the way he liked it, as she leaned toward him with her hands placed flat on the coffee table. “I’m not wearing a bra, Gabe. My nipples are hard from the sound of your voice. They’re brushing against my shirt. They’re tingling. I wish you could suck them for me.”

  He groaned.

  “I’ll have to play with them myself.”

  She rocked on the edge of the couch, feeling somewhat absurd about the cheesy lines she was spouting. But he was a man. They worked. Even on her. She was wet and wanting. Hurting so bad it was good.

  “Go ahead,” he said.

  “You first.”

  With a kick of his foot, he knocked aside the blanket. He wore clingy, gray, boxer briefs. Very clingy. He’d slid a flat hand down the front of them, stretching the waistband to allow the engorged head of his cock to poke out the top.

  Oh. Ohhh. Wow. He was so red and swollen he was almost purple. Painful-looking. She angled closer, hardly noticing when her shirt slipped all the way off her shoulders, baring her breasts to their hard, pink nipples.

  “You’re sure I can’t touch you?” she asked hoarsely.

  His eyes blazed. “This is phone sex.”

  Stubborn. Or was it…?

  She thought of their meeting beneath the raging sky. She’d heard him say, “Stay away from me.” And then when they had touched—

  She’d blamed the electricity on the storm.

  What if it was Gabe?

  The sparks. The batteries that went dead, the phone that didn’t work. Her stopped watch.

  Karen was transfixed by the question.

  What would happen if they touched?

  * * *

  Lucky. God, he was one lucky sonovabitch.

  Gabe Tomzak had started out with good intentions, but now he felt like a dog. His thought processes had degenerated to the most rudimentary one-thought, even one-word reactions, his bodily functions focused on the most basic needs. He was operating on animal instinct.

  When Karen spoke, he barely comprehended. He knew only that he was one lucky, lucky guy. She was working her body, describing every move, but all that he really understood was the promise of full red lips, the pleasure of ripe melon breasts, the alluring female scent wafting from between her rounded thighs.

  She’d made him very happy.

  She asked him something about taking off her panties and he must have said yes—for sure, his body was screaming it—because she was suddenly standing bent over the couch with her backside pointing at him, sliding off her underwear. Her plump ass was succulent like a peach, and there, peeking from the sweet spot where round thighs met ripe cheeks, was the moist, pink heart of her, and just like that he was lost in the rush of heat and blood and driving need, thinking only of one thing, wanting one thing …

  Pussy.

  And he couldn’t have it.

  4

  Gabe was panting. Karen gripped the backrest of the couch, glad that her face was hidden so he couldn’t see her blushing and quivering and know that the sex phone temptress act was only that—an act.

  But when did it become real? She had to admit that her panties were down around her ankles, her female parts were, without a doubt, on display, and Gabe was certainly exhibiting the responses of a man fully aroused.

  Except that he still hadn’t moved from the chair.

  Feeling wicked and maybe a little ridiculous, she shook her rump the way she’d seen the hoochies do it in Girls Gone Wild commercials, then swiveled around and stepped out of her panties. She swooped down and tossed them to Gabe, who caught them lightning fast, and after a moment’s hesitation slowly drew the undergarment across his face. He inhaled her scent.

  She tried to swallow, but there was no spit left in her mouth. All her juices had been drawn south, where they were leaking out over her slippery thighs.

  “I’m all wet and naked underneath my nightshirt,” she said. “And I’m thinking about you, how you’re so hard from wanting me. Can you see me when you close your eyes—my round tits and my hot pink pussy? Did I describe myself well enough?”

  No response from Gabe. He’d thrown back his head and closed his eyes. His face was concentrated, his Adam’s apple prominent, and the cords in his neck stretched taut.

  She licked a trickle of perspiration from her top lip. “Hey. You still with me?”

  “Yeah.” He stretched out in the armchair. His chest expanded with every breath, hollowing the flat expanse of stomach beneath his ribs. One hand was wrapped around his cock, and he slid the pad of his thumb over the tight flange of foreskin, his fist squeezing and releasing, squeezing and releasing.

  She watched, feeling the matching throb of need inside herself. “Can I touch you now?”

  His lids flew open. “No.”

  “Please let me.” Holding her open shirt against her breasts, she stepped around the table and knelt on the rug before him. “Why won’t you let me?”

  He seemed tortured. “I’ll hurt you.”

  “How?”

  “I’m—” He shook his head.

  “You touched me before, out in the storm, and I survived.”

  “But you felt it, didn’t you?”

  “Yes. I felt the electricity.”

  His eyes became razors of blue steel.

  She whispered, “I want to feel it again.”

  “That was only … like a hug. Sex is different. Wetter and deeper. I could hurt you.”

  “Then we’ll stop if that happens.”

  He grunted. “Might be too late.”

  “Just let me try, okay?” Tentatively, being careful not to touch his hot skin yet, she plucked at his briefs until she was able to work them past his knees. “I can’t get them over the boots.”

  “Leave them.”

  “All right. I’m going to touch you now. I’ll lay one hand on your thigh, okay?”

  He inhaled through his teeth. “Careful.”

  She lifted a trembling hand. Although she was mostly convinced that his conductivity was in his head, he gave off too much prickly tension for her not to be wary. And there were the household malfunctions to consider. Something had caused the batteries to short out.

  As soon as her palm was within a few inches of his skin, she felt it. Electricity. Hot and tingling, forming a sort of force field around his body. She took in a breath and extended a fingertip.

  A spark flew between them. She squeaked and pulled her hand back.

  “See,” Gabe said.

  “That was nothing. Static electricity. I’ve caused more sparks when I pull my bedsheets back.” She sucked in a quick breath and dropped her hand onto
his thigh, determined to leave it there no matter what. A jolt of energy traveled up her arm, but it wasn’t painful or unpleasant. It was stimulating.

  “Wow,” she said, and placed her other hand on his opposite thigh. More of the pulsing energy coursed through her, making the looping current she remembered from their embrace on the porch. “Freaky.”

  Gabe pushed her away. “I know. I’m a freak.”

  “That’s not—I didn’t mean to—”

  He cut her off. “I was struck by lightning.”

  “Tonight?”

  “No. Last summer. I was on the job. I almost died. And ever since…”

  “What you’re saying is that you are a lightning rod.”

  “Seems that way.”

  She looked at his erection, rising thick and hard against his stomach. The veins pulsed with vitality. She imagined him sliding it between her thighs, thrusting deep inside her. High-voltage fucking unlike anything she’d ever experienced.

  His eyes had widened in recognition of her lust. “You’re not afraid of me.”

  She slipped in between his knees, flinching a little as the electricity leaped into her body, but refusing to quit. The nightshirt had drooped to her elbows again. She cupped her breasts in the unbuttoned gap, moving sinuously against his thighs so her nipples grazed the surface of his hot skin, showering both of them with sparks of magnetic sensation.

  Gabe jerked. Air hissed between his teeth. “Stop. Oh shit, you have to stop.”

  She wouldn’t. Couldn’t. “Put your hands on me.”

  “That’s too much.”

  “No. I want to feel it.” She caught his wrists and pulled him toward her.

  Tiny sparks flew from his fingertips as he touched her breasts. Her mind whirled. White hot sparks and burning blue eyes brightening the darkened room. The energy inside her flickered. Burned higher. Perspiration beaded. Her hair lifted at the roots.

  “Your mouth,” she whispered, shivering with the strange and wonderful sensations. “Use your mouth.”

  He angled forward, scooping his hands around her butt so she was lifted higher. Her body bowed into a tight arc that presented her breasts to his mouth. “Aghhh,” she said, as his lips locked on a nipple and sucked it against the velvet blade of his tongue, drawing it into the heat and voltage. Shocks detonated across her nerve endings in short, sharp bursts. Pop. Pop. Pow.

  They slid to the floor. He knelt above her, hands hovering.

  She was on her backside, legs loosely looped around his thighs. “Go ahead. Touch me there.”

  “Can you take it?”

  “Y-yes. I think so.”

  He lifted the hem of the nightshirt. He was so intent, she could have sworn she saw the reflection of her wet, open sex in the sheen of his eyes. She’d never been so aware of herself, so plugged in to the effect her flagrantly naked body had on a man.

  As he bent closer, one shaking hand descending between her thighs, she pressed her legs more firmly against him to maintain the electric loop, instinctively protecting herself from a sudden shock.

  Still, she jolted with alarm when he stroked a finger between her swollen lips. A sizzling hot lightning strike ripped from her clenched pussy straight up through the center of her body. A squeal—almost a scream—flew from her mouth, but her thighs clamped convulsively, holding Gabe between them when he might have retreated.

  “Don’t stop,” she pleaded. “Keep your fingers in me. It’s better if we don’t lose contact.”

  “Karen. Damn.” He leaned over her, braced on one arm while the other reached between her legs. “I couldn’t stop if I wanted to.” His palm cupped her mound. He squeezed, then let his fingers play across the sensitive flesh, dipping shallowly inside her, sliding through the dewy effluence, flicking and rubbing at the pearl of her clit until she did scream, and scream again, with her body flung open beneath him as the electric current flowed through her in an unending stream of biting pleasure.

  She floated in the tingling heat, drawn back toward full consciousness by the tug of his mouth on her breast. He had a finger inside her, an electric probe sending pulses to her womb, to her marrow, to her heart. The connection was grown so strong between them that she believed it would hurt worse to break away than to continue with the shocking coupling.

  She licked her lips. “There’s a condom in my pocket.”

  “Are you sure?” His face in the firelight was ax-hewn, all sharp angles and fierce need. The hot staff of his cock had melded to her thighs. She was quaking, anticipation and trepidation mixed as one, but she knew for certain that she wanted to feel the full extent of his power thrusting inside her. She needed it, to burn away the remnants of the woman she used to be.

  They worked together to sheathe him. When her fingers closed around his jerking cock for the first time, she laughed. “Latex.” Her fingers traced the ridges and contours thinly covered by the condom. “That’s synthetic rubber, right? Like the soles of your boots. We’re cool then.”

  “Saved by safe sex.” He sank his hands in her hair and kissed her fully and voraciously on the lips.

  The shock this time was that it was their first kiss. She flung her arms around his neck, consumed by the hot, peppery taste of his mouth and the bold thrust of his tongue. Everything about their encounter was turned inside out—why not this?

  She was sitting in his lap now, his erection prominent between them, enticing her clit with every sizzling rub and roll. “Sweet mercy,” she said. “I can’t stand this. Take that lightning rod and fuck me with it.”

  He held her face at a slight distance, his expression serious. “I can’t do that. You have to. And you have to stop if it’s too much.” His fingertips pressed into her cheeks and jaw. “Promise me you’ll stop.”

  She nodded, doubting that she had the control any more than he did. But she loved that he was so concerned.

  She rose up on her knees, staying close enough to slide her cleft along his cock so the current’s hot spot wasn’t broken. “Have you tried before, with anyone else?”

  “Not like this.” He kissed her. “You’re my first, in a way.”

  “Keep kissing me.”

  Their mouths met. The intimacy escalated. It was even more erotic—and moving—having his tongue slide between her lips the same moment as she lowered herself onto the slickened head of his cock. She sank lower, gasping as her tight passage opened to accept him. He was all aggressive, invading male. All cock—thick and blunt and overwhelming.

  A bolt of electricity lit her up inside. For an instant, she was at the center of a blazing sun. Then she lifted an inch higher on her knees and felt the relief of slippery warm liquid, before hard lust drove her down and the fireball ripped through her again. She tore her mouth from his and would have screamed, if every drop of oxygen hadn’t been jarred from her lungs.

  Gabe leaned away. His hands tightened on her waist.

  No. Air scraped her throat when she inhaled. “Stay inside me.”

  “Fuck, yes.” He’d only deepened the angle.

  Her hips ground in small circles. He held her ass, trying to fix her in place to pump into her, but she was too lost in the roaring sexual delirium to have her movements contained. Each thrust was another shock, exploding with sharp pleasure and sweet pain. She couldn’t stop. But after only a minute she felt herself collapsing, her bones melting in the bubbling cauldron at their point of joining.

  He took care of that. With one great heave, he lifted her off the floor and dropped her on the couch. From the verge of withdrawal, he drove solidly into her again. Even deeper. Right to the hilt, catching her by the back of her knees and levering her legs up and open, open so wide there was a piercing pressure right where she’d been needing it.

  Zzzap. A bolt of sensation struck her clit and zigzagged upward.

  He caught her cry on his tongue. They kissed hungrily. Soon their lips and tongues were part of the motion, their fingers and nipples and navels. Every part of them, gliding thrusts and dissolvin
g restraints, creating a synchronicity of wet friction and tight, spiraling pleasure.

  Gabe let out a shout and accelerated to short, hard strokes as he came. An endless string of pulsing electric charges detonated inside Karen. Her climax was an inferno, burning hot, burning hard, until her mind was scorched bare and there was nothing left—not inhibition or reason or regret.

  Gabe moved first, minutes later, when he dropped an open-mouthed kiss below her navel. “Are you okay?”

  She wasn’t ready to answer. Her body was still vibrating.

  He licked, shooting a weakly quivering arrow into her.

  “Huh.” She put her tongue back in and closed her mouth. Tried to remember how to form words.

  He reached up. A hand squeezed her breast. Another small dart of pleasure.

  “I think…” Her neurons were firing up. “I drained you.”

  “That’s right.”

  “I mean, when you touch me now, it’s not quite so electric.”

  He chuckled against her lower belly. “You’re saying the magic is gone?”

  “Don’t be a tease.” She jogged his shoulders. “I’m serious. Maybe you’re cured.”

  After a minute, he said, “Maybe,” but she could tell he wasn’t convinced.

  The Thor thing wasn’t entirely a joke. She had a thousand questions about his—what was it, a medical condition? Except she imagined that he’d been treated often enough as an extraordinary spectacle, practically a circus sideshow. The questions could wait.

  He was drawing small circles over her stomach. Small tingling sparks followed his fingertips like comet tails. “You’re sure you’re all right?”

  “As far as I can tell.” She wiggled into the couch cushions. “I do feel rather, uh, incandescent. As if you stuck a light bar up me and flicked the switch.” She patted his shoulder to let him know she was fine. “All I can say is—” She laughed. “Thank heaven for the rubber.”

  His gaze traveled up her lax body to her face. “You’re not freaked out?”

  “Do I look freaked out?”

  “You look too stunned to react.”

  “Maybe. But my brain is starting to function.”

  “What about here?” He stroked between her legs, where she was damp and sore.