“Brits don’t go on dates. We meet at a club, get sloshed and shag.” His playful grimace didn’t quite fit the man before me, whose intense scrutiny made it hard for me to return his gaze.
And it didn’t take long before the questions began to get intimate. He swept a corkscrew curl off my cheek. “Are you on some form of contraception—pills, shots?”
Leaning provocatively close, I exaggerated a sultry whisper. “Shall we get tested for STDs together?”
A flash of smile electrified his gaze. “My brain is in my cock, sorry.”
The waiter arrived with our drinks. Bradley circled a finger. “We’re going to need another round, straight away.”
I sipped my martini. “M-mm, I love it when they make these right—not too sweet, just the right amount of tang.”
I set the glass down and studied the man across the table. Not a stuffy Brit in the least, and scrappy, who would have thought? The fight he had picked with Derek had surprised, even shocked me. Fisticuffs at dawn—or after hours. No man had ever fought for my honor. Perhaps my father, but that was years ago.
Something about Bradley tempted me to let him in, trust a little. Not completely, of course, that would feel too vulnerable. I exhaled a quiet breath and met his beautiful blue gaze. “The answer is yes, I’m on the pill. I got tested for STDs last year and haven’t had unprotected sex, since.” I focused my gaze. “And, you?”
“All clear. I have my results if you’d care to see them.”
I nodded absently. Why didn’t this make me feel any better? Maybe Bradley was right—safe sex, safe distance—safe heart.
He took a long pull on his Black and Tan. “And what do you masturbate with? What kind of toys?”
No sense in being coy. “Two cock-shaped vibrators, a new jackrabbit, a jelly egg and a pocket rocket—not all used at once—at least not usually. I just bought some cherry lube, and an anal toy I haven’t tried yet.” I smiled at him. “What do you use?”
He wore the dark virile look so well his expression was hard to read. “My hand, in the shower, with plenty of body wash.” He lifted his beer and drained the glass. “An impressive list, Gracie. And speaking of lists, have you been thinking about ours?”
I nodded. “As I see it, this is not a list of sexual stunts, necessarily, but of erotic encounters.”
“Whenever, wherever—whatever you want. Stunts, encounters, fantasies, I’d be happy to accommodate your every desire.”
“Whenever, Wherever, Whatever.” I mused aloud. “First tune on my very first iPod.” I returned his intense gaze, but mostly I stared at his firm, wonderfully pliable mouth. The one that had ravaged mine in the backseat of the taxicab from Gramercy to Brooklyn. Even now, my lips were sensitive to the slightest touch.
The waiter arrived.
“Secondsies.” I gladly exchanged my empty for a full glass. Since when did I swill Absolute Mandarin like it was Fiji water? Since Bradley Craig, apparently. After a brief perusal of the appetizers, we went straight for the entrees. I decided on salmon—broiled, lightly blackened. Bradley ordered his New York Strip medium-rare.
He got out his phone and tapped on a few keys. “Ready.” Lifting his brow, along with his gaze, he signaled for me to go first.
I swirled my tongue along the sugared edge of the martini glass. There was one encounter with Bradley I knew I would enjoy. “Tie me up, tie me down?”
His look penetrated. “Something coercive, against your will. Nothing too rough, but slightly scary?”
A powerful rush of fear mixed with arousal surged through me. “Yes.”
“I’d be delighted.” He looked up from his typing. “And I’d like you to return the favor, with an added bit of torture. A private lap dance, perhaps? In fact—I’d like you to dance naked for me.”
I grinned. “Wobble a teeny-tiny thong off my hips?”
“And mighty pretty hips, as I recall.” He waited for my next
And it didn’t take long before the questions began to get intimate. He swept a corkscrew curl off my cheek. “Are you on some form of contraception—pills, shots?”
Leaning provocatively close, I exaggerated a sultry whisper. “Shall we get tested for STDs together?”
A flash of smile electrified his gaze. “My brain is in my cock, sorry.”
The waiter arrived with our drinks. Bradley circled a finger. “We’re going to need another round, straight away.”
I sipped my martini. “M-mm, I love it when they make these right—not too sweet, just the right amount of tang.”
I set the glass down and studied the man across the table. Not a stuffy Brit in the least, and scrappy, who would have thought? The fight he had picked with Derek had surprised, even shocked me. Fisticuffs at dawn—or after hours. No man had ever fought for my honor. Perhaps my father, but that was years ago.
Something about Bradley tempted me to let him in, trust a little. Not completely, of course, that would feel too vulnerable. I exhaled a quiet breath and met his beautiful blue gaze. “The answer is yes, I’m on the pill. I got tested for STDs last year and haven’t had unprotected sex, since.” I focused my gaze. “And, you?”
“All clear. I have my results if you’d care to see them.”
I nodded absently. Why didn’t this make me feel any better? Maybe Bradley was right—safe sex, safe distance—safe heart.
He took a long pull on his Black and Tan. “And what do you masturbate with? What kind of toys?”
No sense in being coy. “Two cock-shaped vibrators, a new jackrabbit, a jelly egg and a pocket rocket—not all used at once—at least not usually. I just bought some cherry lube, and an anal toy I haven’t tried yet.” I smiled at him. “What do you use?”
He wore the dark virile look so well his expression was hard to read. “My hand, in the shower, with plenty of body wash.” He lifted his beer and drained the glass. “An impressive list, Gracie. And speaking of lists, have you been thinking about ours?”
I nodded. “As I see it, this is not a list of sexual stunts, necessarily, but of erotic encounters.”
“Whenever, wherever—whatever you want. Stunts, encounters, fantasies, I’d be happy to accommodate your every desire.”
“Whenever, Wherever, Whatever.” I mused aloud. “First tune on my very first iPod.” I returned his intense gaze, but mostly I stared at his firm, wonderfully pliable mouth. The one that had ravaged mine in the backseat of the taxicab from Gramercy to Brooklyn. Even now, my lips were sensitive to the slightest touch.
The waiter arrived.
“Secondsies.” I gladly exchanged my empty for a full glass. Since when did I swill Absolute Mandarin like it was Fiji water? Since Bradley Craig, apparently. After a brief perusal of the appetizers, we went straight for the entrees. I decided on salmon—broiled, lightly blackened. Bradley ordered his New York Strip medium-rare.
He got out his phone and tapped on a few keys. “Ready.” Lifting his brow, along with his gaze, he signaled for me to go first.
I swirled my tongue along the sugared edge of the martini glass. There was one encounter with Bradley I knew I would enjoy. “Tie me up, tie me down?”
His look penetrated. “Something coercive, against your will. Nothing too rough, but slightly scary?”
A powerful rush of fear mixed with arousal surged through me. “Yes.”
“I’d be delighted.” He looked up from his typing. “And I’d like you to return the favor, with an added bit of torture. A private lap dance, perhaps? In fact—I’d like you to dance naked for me.”
I grinned. “Wobble a teeny-tiny thong off my hips?”
“And mighty pretty hips, as I recall.” He waited for my next
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