Road Games Read online

  “Very.” Oh, how I hoped I was reading that look in her eyes right. “Bring it on.”

  “My pleasure.” She gave me a quick, flirty wink and a slight tip of her head, then pivoted and disappeared into the back.

  A scant five minutes later, as I sipped my wine and relived the warm feeling of her eyes on my body, Frantic Waiterguy reappeared long enough to set a salad before me. Filled with colorful slivers of vegetables I couldn’t recognize, it was heavenly and beautifully presented, although a rather petite portion, I thought.

  The second plate arrived before I had even half finished the salad. The third and fourth were delivered shortly thereafter. By the time the little plates and saucers and bowls stopped coming, there had been more than twenty in all, and I was full to bursting.

  Every single sampling had been a perfect gastronomic experience. And even more extraordinary, although I had been to Thai restaurants many times before, all over the world, I had not eaten even one of the twentysomething dishes ever before. And yes, many were decidedly hellfire spicy, so she took me at my word, and I ate every bit of those, you can be sure.

  I wanted her to know that it wasn’t all words. I can take the heat.

  After forty-five minutes of eating, just as I decided not one bite more or you will really regret it, a half-drunken party of eight stumbled in, dashing my hopes that I would remain the restaurant’s sole patron. I sipped coffee, willing her to reappear. Praying for her to, while wondering about her role in the place. Kitchen help? Chef? Owner?

  Another couple came in and took a table near me. Damn. What are you doing out in the middle of the week? Why don’t you people go home?

  I lingered long after the waiter handed me my check. It read: No charge. My pleasure.

  I lingered, hoping she would come out to ask what I had thought of the meal. And maybe more. But the restaurant only got busier and busier, and there wasn’t even a glimpse of her. Finally, I took the hint and left.

  I needed to bike away my disappointment, so I put on the headphones from my MP3 player and set off with no particular destination in mind, just hugging one canal for a while, then another, admiring the lights on the bridges and the security of people on the street wherever I turned. Ninety minutes passed in a heartbeat.

  I don’t know how I ended up back there, but just as I realized I’d wound my way full circle to the restaurant, the sky opened up and it began to pour. Of course it had been clear and full of stars a minute before. But that was Amsterdam, so that was nothing new.

  And it was only then that I remembered that I’d left my umbrella there. Happy fate! But my heart sank quickly when I saw the restaurant was dark. I stopped anyway, because the place had a nice big awning and I just wanted a moment to think about her. Through the big picture window I saw a light on in the back and wondered if someone was still in there.

  I didn’t have to wonder long.

  Her sleek and sexy silhouette appeared, unmistakable. Paused, froze when she realized I was watching, backlit by the street lamp outside. Then continued toward me. Swept toward me was more like it. Languid. Unhurried. I hopped off my bike and locked it to the nearest lamppost.

  By the time I turned toward the ancient wooden door at the front entrance, it was open and she was there, leaning against the threshold watching me, arms folded across her chest.

  “What a fabulous feast,” I said. When I got close enough, I could make out her features. She was smiling broadly at me, eyes shining in the lamplight.

  “Each and every dish. Exquisitely wonderful,” I continued. “But it was just too generous of you to treat me.”

  “Not at all,” she insisted. “A purely selfish gesture, I assure you. Part of my plan.” She straightened and tilted her head toward the dark interior of the restaurant. “Come in?”

  “Love to.” I stepped inside and waited while she locked up again. “So you have a plan, do you?”

  “Yes.” She turned on her heel toward the back, knowing I would follow.

  I did. “Going to tell me details?”

  “All in good time,” she said over her shoulder. She paused next to a long, deeply cushioned booth in the rear of the restaurant and lit the candle in the center of the table. “Cappuccino? Or perhaps some wine?”

  “White wine would be lovely, thank you.”

  She was back with two glasses in the time it took me to remove my coat, scarf, and gloves. I slid in toward the back of the booth, inviting her to sit beside me, and she did.

  “I’m very glad you enjoyed my efforts to please you.” She gave me a long and deliberate once-over, lingering on my breasts before her eyes met mine with naughty promise in them.

  “Oh, I more than enjoyed them,” I said, relaxing against the plush seat back. “I savored every single bite. I am curious about something, though. I thought I was pretty well versed in Thai food, but I don’t believe I’ve ever had any of those dishes before.”

  “No, doubtful you have. They were all my own recipes,” she said, confirming what I had thought. No mere kitchen cook, but rare culinary artist.

  “Magnificent creations,” I gushed. “All such wonderfully complex blends of flavors.”

  “Well, perhaps it would be more accurate to call them potions, not recipes.” She slid closer to me as she added this tidbit and rested her arm along the back of the booth so that her fingertips rested on my shoulder. Easy. Just barely touching, but I was hyperaware of that slight pressure. Of the musk of her perfume. And of those warm brown eyes boring holes into mine. She was gorgeous.

  “Potions?” I repeated dumbly.

  “Yes. And so far, every one is working perfectly, I might add.” She licked her lips and leaned in closer. “The first dish was to keep you thinking of me until we could be alone together.” Her hand began to gently caress my shoulder. “The second, to bring you back to the café if you left.”

  “Ah, I see,” I played along. I shifted my body to reduce the distance between us, and put my hand on her thigh.

  “That’s the fourth one, there…” She glanced down to watch me slowly caress her from knee to hip. “The potion compelling you to put your hands on me.”

  “You skipped the third,” I interrupted. She flexed the muscles of her thigh as I stroked her through her jeans and made me all too aware of how well conditioned her body was. I imagined her moving on top of me, and my heart began to beat a little faster.

  “The third dish was to make you forget something you’d have to come back for.”

  I froze for a moment at this, surprised by the reminder. Busy in the kitchen all night, and she’d noticed I’d left my umbrella behind? “Well, I am kind of forgetful,” I admitted.

  She shook her head slowly back and forth. “It was the potion.” She was staring at my lips, and I noticed she was breathing a little faster.

  “Well, they all worked,” I said. “I’m here.”

  “Not all, not yet. We’re only just waiting for potion five to start working.” She moved a couple of inches closer.

  “And that one does what?” God, I loved the way she was looking at me. Like she was going to pounce any second.

  “You will want me to kiss you. You will crave it. Need it. Be obsessed by the thought of it.”

  I nodded my head vigorously. “Oh, that one kicked in some time ago.”

  Her lips were on mine an instant later. She nipped at my lower lip and caressed me with the tip of her tongue before pushing hungrily into my mouth, wet and hot and insistent. I met her with equal enthusiasm.

  “Six makes you want to take your clothes off.” She was already reaching for the buttons on my shirt as she said this, and I was not about to fight the power of the potions. I smiled my agreement as she pulled my blouse out of my jeans and slipped it off my shoulders. I certainly hadn’t gone out that day expecting to end up like this, but I had entertained the idea of enjoying myself in Amsterdam if the opportunity arose, so fortunately all the lingerie I had packed were things I was not ashamed to be seen in.
Today it was a peach-colored satin and lace number that maximized my cleavage and left little to the imagination. From the look on her face, I’d say it was an excellent choice.

  “Seven, you will crave my mouth on those beautiful breasts.” Her voice had gone all husky.

  “Oh yes. I ate every bit of that one.” I straddled her, took her face in my hands, and kissed her.

  As I teased her with a careful, controlled kiss, she deftly removed my bra. Then, as gently as I was kissing her, she tenderly cupped my breasts. She moaned, a low sound in the back of her throat, when her thumbs brushed over my nipples and found them rigid and erect. The sound and the sensations sent a warm twist of arousal through my lower belly and into my groin.

  “Do it.” I couldn’t recognize my own voice.

  She kissed my neck, sucking and licking and caressing with her tongue, down my chest to the right breast, cupped with her hands. She paused for a moment, looking, her pupils huge and black, before her mouth closed around my nipple and send a jolt through me.

  I was instantly wet.

  “God.” I gasped. “That feels wonderful.”

  “Eight.” She gave my left breast the same breathtaking attention, and I struggled in a haze to pay attention to the fact she was still reciting potions.

  “Eight?” I repeated dutifully.

  Her teeth briefly grazed my nipple before she replied. “The eighth ensures that you have fully complied with six.”

  “Six?” Okay, I admit by now I had lost count. All I could feel, all I knew…was her mouth.

  “The you-want-to-take-your-clothes-off one,” she reminded me as she gently nudged me to stand in front of her. Her mouth returned to my nipple as her hands dropped to my waist to undo the button on my jeans. She slowly lowered the zipper and I felt, more than heard, her moan against the sensitive skin of my breast.

  She slipped her hands into my pants to cup my ass as she stood to kiss me again, her tongue invasive. Insistent. Intoxicating.

  Her hands were cool, and I shivered a little as she caressed my thighs and calves while slipping my jeans and panties off. But mostly I trembled with the anticipation of what was to come.

  “And nine has to be that I crave seeing you naked too,” I said as she kissed her way up my body—across my thighs, breathily brushing over my sex to my stomach, a gentle nip at my breasts. Every nerve she passed came alive. She traveled up my neck to whisper in my ear.

  “Undress me, then.” She sucked hard on my earlobe, and I grasped her T-shirt and the tank top beneath it and lifted them up and off her. God, she had beautiful breasts. They were small, but perfect. Round and high, with the nipples dark and rigid. I wanted to put my mouth on them, but she kissed me again and guided my hands to the clasp of her jeans instead. I had her out of them in a flash, and then before I knew it, I was lying on the long, padded bench of the booth with her above me.

  And damn, did she feel good up there. Our bodies found a rhythm, hard and driving and anxious, and she was kissing me again. I loved the way she used her tongue, and with the friction being generated between our naked flesh, I could easily imagine her using that tongue to get me off.

  “Potion ten…” I hated giving up that kiss, but she was driving me crazy with her mouth and my heart was pounding like jackhammers were going at it in there. “All I can think of is you going down on me.”

  “Exactly right,” she agreed and commenced to lick and suck her way down my body, pausing for a long moment at each breast. By the time she spread my legs with her hands and put her tongue lightly on my clit, I was so wound up and so damn wet I was ready to pop.

  She was as talented with her tongue as she’d been with her cooking. I’d have bet money it wouldn’t have taken any time at all, but she knew just how to prolong it to an exquisitely torturous level. Every time I felt the first stirrings of climax, she’d change her stroke just enough to keep me poised on the brink, screaming for it. Then back off enough for it to become a pleasant kind of pain. The kind that blurs all reason and caution and becomes blinding need.

  “No more! Please make me come!” I panted, thrusting my hips forward to deepen the swipes of her tongue.

  She was merciful. Her mouth closed on my clit and sucked, and I came hard and fast, an intense and driving climax that seemed to go on and on.

  While I regained some semblance of strength and breath, she kissed her way up and down the length of my body. I watched her while she did, and she met my gaze. I love it when you can see in a woman’s eyes how much you are turning her on. In no time I was ready and anxious to see her get off. “The next one…eleven, is it…involves you coming hard for me, in the way you like best.”

  I could feel her smile against my stomach.

  “You’re catching on nicely.”

  I raked my fingernails lightly over her back. Her body was so responsive when I touched her, it turned me on all over again. “Tell me what you want.”

  “I want to fuck you,” she said, spreading my thighs as she moved up to kiss me again.

  I tasted myself as her tongue gave me an idea of how much she wanted to be inside me. And I told her with my mouth what I thought of that idea. I sucked on her, played with her, worked her up until I could feel her heart thundering in her chest where it rested against mine. My clit twitched and I felt another rush of wetness at the thought of having her pump into me. We were in a city renowned for its sex shops. I suddenly wished there was one nearby that delivered. Fortunately we were on the same wavelength.

  “I have a cock,” she gasped when we broke apart, both struggling to breathe.

  I wasn’t about to question the how or the where or the why of it. I could only feel relief and a desperate anxious yearning. “Get it. Hurry.”

  She rose and disappeared in the direction of the kitchen. My clit was aching and my whole body was taut with expectation, but I lay back on the padded bench and resisted the urge to touch myself. I knew I’d blow at the first couple of strokes, and that was not what I wanted. Fortunately she was quick with her task, and the wait was most definitely worth it. She wore it proudly, turning to let me admire it on her.

  The harness itself—a thong in the back—framed her tight ass in a way that made my clit throb faster. And the cock was a nice size for my body. Seeing it on her, I spread my legs without even realizing it. But it was the look in her eyes that made me desperate for her to fuck me.

  “Get over here,” I rasped and she was quickly on top of me, rubbing the cock over my swollen sex.

  “How do you want it?” she asked as her hips rolled and bucked.

  I wrapped my arms around her back and carved little crescents into her flesh with my fingernails while I tilted my hips to receive her.

  “Just a little,” I whispered, seeing in her eyes how desperately she wanted to impale me. She groaned when I took the cock in my hand and pushed it against her. “Watch,” I urged, and saw her look down.

  I gave the cock a couple of pulls and felt her body twitch with each one. When I put the head into me, she sighed approval.

  She was fighting to go slow, I could tell; her thighs trembled from resisting the urge to drive into me. “So damn hot,” she muttered as she watched me push the cock in only a few centimeters farther with each slow stroke.

  We rocked together, both of us watching me take her in, determined to prolong it, but I was so wet and eager for her that my efforts at a slow build dissolved with three words.

  “Please let me.” The strain in her voice let me know how hard it was for her to maintain control.

  “Yes. Now,” I agreed, and she thrust hard into me, sinking the cock fully, so deep and quick and good that I gasped, and then we were into a driving rhythm that pushed me to the edge all too quickly.

  “Touch me, and I’ll come with you,” she promised. I slipped my hand between her body and the harness to find her clit hard and swollen, and when I worked it in sync with the way she was fucking me it only took a few strokes for both of us to climax.

>   She stayed inside me as we lay panting, recovering, her body resting on mine.

  “Damn nice,” she groaned dreamily some moments later, and I hummed my agreement, too spent to move.

  “Glad you had that handy.” I moved my hips slightly to push the base of the cock against her clit.

  She moaned and shifted and gave me back in kind, pushing the cock hard into me again, one quick thrust. “I live upstairs.”

  “Convenient.”

  “Very,” she said. “You know, I hate to have you leave when there are still a few potions left to kick in. And besides, you haven’t seen what I do with breakfast.”

  What can I say? Never argue with a woman who knows her way around the kitchen. You never know what she might cook up next.

  Hot Blonde Road Trip

  Crin Claxton

  I’d been watching her all night, propped up at the South London bar, pushing my back hard into the worn wood and fingered chrome of Tomi’s counter. She was new and blond, not a natural blonde going by the depth of her long, dark lashes. I wanted her.

  “There’s a gorgeous pair of boots I just have to have.”

  “I know. Did you see the new pink Jimmy Choos?”

  Fragments of conversation breezed over me from the table where she sat with her companion. I was seriously trying to work them out…femme friends?…femme girlfriends? There was a lot of touching, some stroking, an extraordinary amount of pouting. The hot blonde’s eyes flickered to mine regularly enough for me to venture a smile. Hot Blonde smiled back. I took a breath, put a boot on the floor…and Femme Companion glared over at me, grabbed Hot Blonde’s hand, and pulled her onto the dance floor. Disappointed, I rested back onto the tall leather bar stool.

  “Hmm,” Tomi said, clocking the femme-on-femme dance action, close enough to comfort any voyeur in the bar. “Wannanother beer?”

  I nodded, and Tomi clipped the top off a Beck’s.

  “Blonde, huh? Having a change from the usual?” Tomi remarked, sliding the beer along the scuffed, dark counter.