Drive Me Wild Read online

  Get naked, most likely. Sitting up, she took off her jacket and tossed it on the nightstand. Then she flopped back down and shoved the covers to the foot of the bed with her feet. She’d started to shimmy out of her skirt when Alec came back.

  “Hey, not so fast,” he said, laughter in his voice.

  She turned to see that he’d ditched the shirt. Apparently he’d decided to get naked, too, and she was so glad he had. Her first view of Alec without a shirt would go down in history, or at least her personal history. His manly pecs were decorated with downy hair and punctuated with nipples the color of milk chocolate. She wondered if she would have taken note of that if he hadn’t been so eager to look at her. Sensuality was catching.

  His waist and hips were slim, which she’d known. And now that she’d experienced his penis up close and personal, she knew it was the jumbo model. Even so, her eyes widened at the sight of it, still partially aroused, nestled against a backdrop of dark-brown hair and an impressive set of family jewels. His thighs were—

  “Finished?” he asked softly.

  “Not nearly.” She remembered that she’d been about to take off her skirt, though, and he’d stopped her. She’d forgotten the skirt, had almost forgotten to breathe during her intense study of his body. “Don’t you want me to take off this skirt?”

  “Sure I do. But with all that wiggling going on, you could have the decency to wait until I can watch.”

  “Oh.” Her breasts tingled under his warm gaze. Well, of course she should let him watch. Obviously she still had a few things to learn about being a wild woman. “All right. I think I’ll take off my skirt now.”

  “Okay.”

  She proceeded to take off her skirt an inch at a time, making sure her breasts shimmied with every movement. And each time they did, his penis twitched. “Enjoying this?” she asked.

  “Obviously.”

  “Tell you what.” She wiggled again, nearly free of the skirt now.

  “What?” He was almost fully erect, and it was an impressive sight.

  “When I finish this little chore, there might be something else I can do for you.”

  He drew in a breath. “Such as?”

  “I seem to remember you saying I had a perfect mouth.” Slowly she ran her tongue over her lips. “What do you say we take it for a test drive?”

  5

  MOLLY MIGHT NOT BE an X-rated movie star, but Alec felt as if he’d landed on the set for one of those flicks. His sexual history had contained a fair amount of excitement, but nothing to equal this—an expensive hotel room with a gorgeous redhead lying naked in the middle of a four-poster. And the redhead had just offered to give him a blow job.

  Her green eyes sparkled, and she actually crooked a finger in his direction, beckoning him forward. He walked toward the bed, drawn there as steadily as if she had a fishing line attached to that finger and was slowly reeling him in. He also knew exactly which part of him she’d snagged, the part that was proudly leading the way, eager for the attention of her plump, pink mouth.

  No woman had ever announced her intentions like this. Sure, he’d had women go down on him before, but it had just happened in the course of making out. Come to think of it, dialogue in general hadn’t been a part of his sexual life. He hadn’t realized how much it would turn him on.

  “Where do you want me?” He sounded as if he had laryngitis. So much for Mr. Smooth.

  She scooted over to make room for him. “Stretched out on this big ol’ bed.”

  He had a sudden image of being tied hand and foot to the posts rising like phallic symbols at the corners of the bed. Damn, was he kinky? It was beginning to look that way. “Just, um, lying there?”

  Her eyes widened briefly, and then a slow smile curved that mouth that would soon send him over the moon. “Maybe not.”

  Then again, he might not be ready for such doings. The idea sounded sexy in theory, but in reality, he’d be helpless. He wasn’t sure if he could take that. “Just lying there is good,” he said. “Just lying there is a wonderful idea.”

  “C’mon, Alec.” Her cheeks grew pinker. “Do you have a four-poster at home?”

  “No.”

  “Me neither. I’ve never had sex in a four-poster before.”

  “That doesn’t mean we have to—”

  “But why waste those wonderful posts?”

  “You don’t have anything to use for ties, anyway.” He noticed the gleam in her eyes. “Do you?”

  “I might. Lie down.” She slipped off the other side of the high mattress, landing on her feet with a little thump. “And stretch out.”

  He eased down on the bed, more nervous than ever. Yet the forbidden thrill of what she might do next had made his penis stiff as a tailpipe. His brain might be trying to hold him back, but his libido was pulling him straight toward the flames.

  From the bed he couldn’t see what she was doing, but he could hear her rummaging through her purse. Then came the sound of shredding nylon. Panty hose. She hadn’t been wearing them when he’d come up to the room, but she’d had them on earlier. He’d noticed their sheen as he’d helped her get in and out of the car.

  Okay, panty hose ripped in half would only work to tie his hands, so this would be Bondage Lite. He could deal with that. He wouldn’t be totally immobilized, and he could—

  She appeared at the edge of the bed with her panty hose, her purse strap and his belt.

  He gulped. Then again, this could be the whole enchilada. He began to sweat, but his penis—well, his penis loved the entire kinky scene, apparently, because it was stretched to the max.

  “Ready?” she murmured. “You look ready.”

  “I don’t know about this.” He eyed the equipment she clutched in both hands.

  “First time?”

  He hated to come off as unsophisticated. “Well, I wouldn’t say that, exactly. I mean, I’ve had a few occasions when…” He paused and sighed. “Yeah, first time.”

  “Me, too.” She was trembling. “What if I promise we can switch later? Would that help?”

  Oh, yeah. Visualizing her staked to the four corners of this bed sent his pulse into overdrive. “Definitely.”

  “Then that’s the deal. My turn first, then yours.” She gazed into his eyes. “Okay?”

  He trembled, still afraid he was in over his head.

  She dampened her bottom lip with her tongue. He didn’t know if she’d done it by accident or on purpose to remind him of what she’d promised to do once he was tied to the bed. In any case, looking at her glistening lower lip, so pouty and full, sent him over the edge into freefall. “Okay.”

  She took a shaky breath. “Okay.” She surveyed the situation. “I think you should be in the middle of the bed.”

  Now that he was committed, he discovered that surrender could be very, very exciting. “You’re the boss.”

  “Yes. Yes, I am.” Her tone firmed up. “Move to the middle of the bed.”

  He scooted over.

  She piled her stuff on the mattress beside him and pulled out a section of the panty hose. “Give me your wrist.”

  He held out his left hand.

  She frowned in concentration as she tied the soft leg of the panty hose around his wrist and eased his arm up over his head to fasten the nylon to the bedpost. For a woman who claimed never to have done this before, she seemed to be a good hand at tying him up.

  “Were you a Girl Scout?”

  “No.” She picked up her little pile of bondage equipment and moved to his left foot. “But I know how to sail, and sailors have to learn to tie knots.”

  He’d always wanted to learn to sail, but boats were expensive to rent and time had always been at a premium. He had a pretty good idea that money hadn’t been a problem in her life. “In L.A.?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  He could imagine her sailing around with some rich L.A. dude. He could imagine it, and he didn’t like it one damn bit. The smooth leather of his belt caressed his ankle. Well, she was in
New York City now. With him.

  She slipped the belt off again. “This isn’t working,” she muttered. “Hold on a minute.”

  “You could forget my feet.” He liked that idea. He wouldn’t feel nearly as much like meat on the hoof if she only tied his hands.

  “No. If we’re going to do this, we’re going to do it right.” She padded back over to her purse.

  “Molly, nobody would ever know if we did it right or not. That’s the point.”

  “We would know. And we wouldn’t get the full effect, either.” She returned and circled his ankle with something white made of soft cotton.

  He lifted his head to get a better look.

  “Don’t look.”

  “Why not?” He stared at his left foot. “You’re tying me up with your bra?”

  “It’s a very boring bra.” She cinched him to the bedpost with it and grabbed her last two restraints as she headed around the end of the bed.

  “Anything you wear on those amazing breasts could never in a million years be classified as boring. An obstacle, for sure, but never boring.” Talking made him forget that she was getting closer to having him totally in her control. “I’ll bet it looks sexy on.”

  “It doesn’t.” She wound her purse strap around his other ankle and clicked the two metal fasteners together behind the third bedpost. “It’s comfortable, but it makes me look like a frump.”

  “Frumps don’t have breasts like yours, Molly.” His chest tightened as she moved to the fourth bedpost. He’d never felt so vulnerable…and so turned on, in his life. His reaction to her was on full display, no place to hide. In a moment she’d be able to do anything she wanted with him, and however he responded would be right out there.

  She grasped his wrist and her breath caught. “Your pulse is off the charts.”

  He turned his head to look at her. “Wait’ll your turn comes. You’ll understand.”

  She hesitated, the panty hose looped around his wrist. “Are you excited or nervous?”

  “Both.”

  Uncertainty flashed in her eyes. “I can still stop. I could untie you.”

  He looked into those gorgeous eyes and damned if he wanted to be seen as a coward. He cleared his throat. “Like you said, we might not have another shot at a four-poster anytime soon.”

  Her lips were parted, her breathing shallow and quick. “That’s what I’m saying.”

  It was skydiving time again. “Then do it. Have your way with me.”

  “All right, I will.” She cinched up the panty hose and climbed onto the mattress beside him.

  “Kiss me first.” A kiss would personalize this. He didn’t want to be treated like an object, a toy for her amusement. He wanted her to remember it was his cock she was teasing.

  “I’d like that.” Kneeling beside him, she leaned down, her hair falling against his cheeks as she lightly touched her mouth to his.

  Instinctively he tried to cup her head with his hands, but the ties brought him up short. Instead, he had to lie there and let her decide how the kiss would go. His first taste of bondage, and he was already squirming, wanting to participate more than his restraints allowed. He lifted his head, trying to increase the pressure of the kiss, and she drew back, smiling.

  “Lie down,” she said. “I’m doing the kissing here.”

  With a groan he let his head fall back to the pillow.

  “You’re used to being in charge.” She leaned forward again and nibbled at his mouth. “But this is about letting me be in charge. I get to have all the ideas, and you have to be the willing recipient of whatever I choose to give you.” She outlined his lips with her tongue.

  His chest heaved with each breath. This was going to be hell…and heaven. “Can I ask for stuff?” He wasn’t in the habit of doing that, but then he wasn’t in the habit of being tied up, either.

  “Yes.” She caught his bottom lip between her teeth and let it go. “You can even beg for stuff, if you want. In fact, I think eventually you won’t be able to help it.”

  He thought eventually would arrive very soon. His penis ached something fierce, and he wanted her to at least touch it. “Grab hold of me, then,” he murmured.

  She laughed and rubbed her mouth back and forth over his. “That sounded like a command. Do you know how to ask nicely?”

  “Please take hold of my cock, Miss Molly.”

  “In a minute.”

  He groaned again. “I’m in agony, here.”

  “Hate this, do you?” She licked the hollow of his throat.

  “Not hate.” The wet lap of her tongue taunted him with where else she could put it to use. He clenched his jaw. “I’m running a self-control deficit, though.”

  “A deficit?” She ran her tongue along his collarbone. “You sound like my tax guy.”

  “One semester of accounting.”

  “You’re quite the Renaissance man.” She used her tongue on his nipple but kept her hands braced on either side of him.

  “Molly.” He heard the desperation in his voice and didn’t care. “Please touch me down there. Please do it.”

  “In a minute.” She caught his other nipple between her teeth.

  He’d had no clue what anticipation could do to a man. She was so close, yet so far. Her nipples brushed his ribs as she moved slightly lower. His penis quivered. He closed his hands into fists and tugged at the restraints, because the pressure might keep him from embarrassing himself by coming before she ever touched him.

  When she dipped her tongue into his navel, he thought his trial would soon be over. He should have known better. Instead, she scooted down to his feet and ran her tongue over his instep.

  He began to pant. “Just…wrap your fingers around my cock…one time. Just once, please.” Then if he came, at least he could say it was because of some sort of hands-on attention.

  “In a minute.” She settled between his outstretched legs and licked the inside of his knees. Then she moved slowly up his thighs.

  By this time he was gasping for breath and twisting against the restraints. “Molly…now…Molly…I need—”

  “This?” She circled his penis with cool fingers.

  He moaned and gritted his teeth. She was finally there, but he would not come yet. Would not. He wanted her mouth first.

  She tightened her grip at the base of his shaft, and that helped. Then she began to tongue the tip, and that didn’t help at all. When she began a slow massage of his balls, he started whimpering. It wasn’t macho, but he couldn’t stop the sounds any more than he could stop the way his body writhed against the sheet.

  After an eternity in which he totally lost his cool but managed to keep from coming, she finally slipped her mouth down over him and began to suck gently.

  He drew in a breath through clenched teeth. This was it. This was—

  She stopped and moved away.

  He yelled in protest.

  “Want more?”

  He groaned and pulled at the restraints.

  “Say it, Alec.”

  “More, damn it!”

  “All right.” She leaned over and drew him in again, the suction greater this time.

  He strained upward, wanting it, wanting it more than anything in the world. “Don’t stop.”

  But she did. He lay there unable to do anything but moan as she untied each restraint.

  “Now,” she murmured, moving back over him, bending down, her hair tickling his groin. “Enjoy.”

  She took as much as she could into her mouth, increased the pace, and thank the Lord, increased the pressure. With a cry of relief he came so spectacularly that he thought for a second his heart had stopped. But no, it was beating like a jungle drum as the spasms of his climax made his body jerk, and jerk again. Then he collapsed onto the mattress, only vaguely aware that she’d crawled up beside him and snuggled close, her cheek on his heaving chest.

  He had no idea how long it was before he found the strength to put his arm around her. Another space of time passed before he
could get his vocal cords to work.

  “Wild,” he murmured.

  “Good,” she whispered back.

  “That, too.” Then he closed his eyes and drifted in a haze of sensual satisfaction so complete he thought heaven couldn’t be any better than this. On the far reaches of his consciousness a thought tickled. This was very good. Maybe too good. He shoved it away. When it came to sex, there was no such thing as too good.

  MOLLY DECIDED to let Alec sleep a little. They could keep the room for the whole night if they wanted it and they could probably both use a break before they continued this adventure. And what an excellent adventure it was turning out to be, too. She, Molly Drake, had tied up her first man.

  Good thing it had been Alec’s first time to be tied up, too. If she hadn’t done everything exactly by the book, he’d never know. That thought reminded her of her book, the poor rejected baby stuffed into her shoulder bag. She’d had to move it aside to get her panty hose and her bra, but she’d been too involved in her mission to think about the book then.

  Now that Alec was dozing beside her and the distraction of all that wonderful sex was temporarily gone, she thought about those dismal moments in Benjamin’s office and got depressed all over again. Maybe Benjamin didn’t know what he was talking about. A writing critique was always so subjective. Any writing class she’d ever taken had said that.

  Benjamin saw her as a mystery writer who didn’t deal with sex in her books. Maybe he’d read this manuscript with the wrong set of expectations, and that’s why he hadn’t been able to see its merits. She needed to look at it again. If she still liked it, she might need a different agent instead of more sexual experience.

  Not that this afternoon hadn’t been an excellent idea. And she had Benjamin to thank for giving her the courage to proposition Alec. Without Benjamin’s harsh critique, she would never have dared so much.

  Well, the manuscript was here and Alec was asleep. She could read it right now and decide whether to go agent shopping tomorrow. Come to think of it, she might have been naive to think that Benjamin could view her as anything but Dana’s ghostwriter.