Page 31 of Tangled With the Wrong Guy
Were bisexual men maybe better at pleasuring women than straight men? At knowing what they wanted? Knowing what to say, how to touch them? Was it because they had a stronger feminine side? She’d never before been anywhere close to this turned on.
‘Later,’ he said. ‘Look – if you want me to stop, tell me, whenever you–’
‘No,’ she shot, as he undid her jeans. ‘Don’t youdarestop. What happens in Paris …’ She tugged with her left hand as he tugged with his right.
‘Chloe,’ he said, as his fingers worked their way into her underwear. ‘I’ve wanted to do this to you since you stomped around that tomb and roasted my mates. A beautiful bad-arse girl withsucha beautiful arse.’
‘I thought you were pretty much unconsc–’ The end of the word vaporised as his fingers found ground zero and she sucked in a breath.
‘Shit,’ he said, letting out a small groan, ‘you’re so wet.’ He slid his fingers slowly inside, and she thought she’d die from the ecstasy of it.
‘I–’
‘Shhh, no more words.’ He stroked her … slowly, slowly … a little faster; sliding his fingers in and out, and around, knowing exactly what to do – how hard, how fast, how deep – and his shackled hand twisted to hold hers, gripping it tight as she moaned. She was tipping, tipping …
Another groan escaped her. ‘Don’t stop. Please … don’t stop. If you stop you’ll be dead as these guys …’ She flapped the hand that was gripping Joel’s shoulder in the general direction of a tomb. Seconds later she was shuddering uncontrollably, andit was beyond her not to let out a cry loud enough to wake those dead as she came, more spectacularly than she’d ever come before.
She turned her face to the sky, to the moon, arching her body towards Joel, then seconds later flopped against him as every bone in her body that wasn’t already liquidised turned to jelly. Beautiful, warm jelly.
As the pulsing subsided she was swamped in bliss, in deep peace, in existential happiness.
I never knew it could feel like that.
He withdrew his hand and held her tightly against him, kissing her hair. ‘Beautiful Chloe,’ he said quietly. ‘Thank you for tonight.’
They didn’t move for a while, her head remaining buried in his shoulder. She breathed him in, loving the warmth of his broad, strong chest.
‘Nice?’ he said.
Her eyes were still closed. Then, as she regained the ability to think, and to move her muscles, she properly registered what had just happened. ‘My god Joel,’ she said, pulling back, looking into his eyes. ‘I can’t believe I wanted to fuck on a tomb.’
He smiled a wicked smile.
‘I wanted to fuck on a tomb,’ she repeated quietly, to herself. ‘And we just … and I … bloody hell.’
He grinned down at her. ‘You’re so funny.’
She smiled back. ‘Whydidn’twe fuck on a tomb? Joel …’ She tentatively moved her hand down to his crotch, but he stopped it with his free hand.
‘Unwise,’ he said, ‘with no protection.’
Ah yes. Once bitten, twice shy, presumably.
‘True. So would you like me to …’ Her hand was still clamped in his.
‘No, I’m fine.’ His smiled was amused. ‘That was all about you.’
She frowned in confusion. A guy turning down a … well, whatever he wanted her to do, frankly. She knew he’d been turned on too – it had been veeery obvious. She owed him, and then some.
Or maybe he was in fact reluctant to cheat while on his stag do. Perhaps what they’d done didn’t count because it had been all about her. Like Bill Clinton,I did not have sexual relations with that woman.
Once again, she bemoaned her lack of knowledge when it came to anything beyond heterosexual, vanilla-flavoured sex. Did gay guys sometimes … She had no idea. No idea at all. Theyreallyneeded to talk.
He spotted the look in her eye. ‘Let’s go open that damn door,’ he said, as she opened her mouth to ask.
The old iron key turned with an unequivocal clunk.
We’re out.
