The Principle of Desire (The Science of Temptation) Page 5

  “Aaron doesn’t usually bring his Jag.” Beth pointed out the car as they strode past it. She was parked down a side street a block away. “Too afraid it’ll get jacked. He has a crappy old pickup he drives here instead, for camouflage.”

  “Makes sense, I guess. Hey, this trip to the pie house doesn’t count as the date, right?”

  “Are you asking me or telling me?”

  “Which is the right answer if I want a date with just the two of us some other night?”

  She chuckled. “What makes you think there’s a right and wrong answer? They just have different consequences. Take a risk. Make your choice, boy.” Her keys were already out, and she cheeped the door unlocked as they approached her car.

  “Ugh. You can quit calling me boy, now that nobody’s listening. This trip to the pie house with everyone does not count as the date. I do not accept this as the date.”

  To Beth’s infinite astonishment, Ed took her by the arm as she started to open her door, and swung her around to face him. She couldn’t resist scanning him, and she grinned when she saw that what she’d wrought earlier was still going strong.

  “You poor, poor baby. I do apologize for that. I never expected you to react that way.” She sounded smug as Aaron to herself. She was wet all over again, looking at the effect she had on Ed. She wanted to rub her hand over his cock, test its dimensions. Take it out and lick it. She felt possessive toward Ed’s penis. Proprietary. Which was weird.

  “Me either.” His voice matched the denim over his erection, taut and strained. “But if I crank the A/C as cold as it’ll go, maybe I can chill out enough between here and the pie place to actually...enjoy eating some pie.”

  It’s like he’s a double entendre savant. She was incapable of letting that one go. “Any pie in particular you have in mind?”

  “Strawberry rhubarb, or maybe pecan if it’s fresh, but...oh. Fuck. Pie.” He hissed, and Beth could see his cock move even through the denim, even in the dimly lit street between two warehouses, where they really shouldn’t be hanging out this long.

  Her hand moved before she could stop it, with an iron will of its own. Warm, stretched denim over a harder core. Ed inhaled so hard as he leaned into her touch that she thought he might pass out. Beth’s fingers wrapped around his shaft, cupping toward the base, defining its contours by touch.

  Not enough. Not tonight. She dropped her keys on the ground and moved her other hand only long enough to grab Ed’s shoulders and spin them both around, pushing him back against her car and nearly losing her balance in the process. His hands flew out to her hips to steady her, and her hand flew right back to where it had been the second before.

  “I could make it better,” she offered, not believing herself. This wasn’t her, she wasn’t a trashy stand-up public hand-job kind of girl. This simply wasn’t how one proceeded in these matters. She had never met this guy before today.

  “Somebody’s gonna have to or I’ll never be able to drive. Oh, God.”

  Fuck common sense, that was the theme for tonight. She shifted her weight forward, straddling one of Ed’s thighs. “Well then, whip it out, boy.”

  “Could you at least make that big boy?”

  “That remains to be seen.”

  She had no idea where all this was coming from, but she decided not to care. Ed yanked his T-shirt up and unsnapped his jeans, nearly harming himself in his haste to get the zipper down. Shoving his boxers down too, he freed his cock and she forgot everything else.

  Big boy. At least when he was hard. She could feel it, tension coiled like a spring, running through him and between them as she encircled his shaft and stroked down hard. His body shook, abdomen vibrating against her arm with the strength of his impending orgasm. How long had he been hard like this? Since the beginning of the scene? Since he’d walked into the club?

  Glancing around once to make sure the street was still deserted, Beth gave into another impulse and crouched down to slip her lips over his wonderful thick cock, ready to taste the climax she knew would happen any second. Ed’s hands on her hair, stroking gently despite his wretched state, made Beth almost as hot as he seemed to be. She pumped her hand around him, ran her tongue under the tip of his swollen head, and he came with a gratifying groan. Salty, earthy, oyster-slick down her throat.

  After a second Beth rose on legs that shook as badly as his had a moment before, and slipped herself over his thigh again. Running her fingers into his curly brown mop of hair, she yanked his head back and pressed her mouth to his scruffy neck, nipping hard. “What do you say, big boy?”

  “Thank you, Mistress. Oh my God, Beth.”

  His hands sought her ass, pulling her closer and harder against his leg. Her dress rode up, and the skimpy, soaked lace of her thong provided only more tantalizing friction against her already throbbing clit.

  I’m making a mess here. She didn’t care, she rubbed herself against his jeans-clad leg anyway, shamelessly riding him in pursuit of her own climax. When it came, hard and keen and sweet, Beth pretended not to notice that Ed had to hold her up until the trembling passed.

  And there they were.

  That happened. Now what? Beth was certain she’d figure it out as soon as her brain started functioning properly again. In the meantime, she slumped against Ed’s comfortable chest, resting her chin over his shoulder, her hands still clamped in his hair.

  “Did...did you just come from humping my leg?”

  She examined the weathered roof of her car, perusing it for guidance. It offered none. His hands felt warm and cozy, wrapping the sides of her butt, thumbs stroking her hipbones. “Maybe.”

  “If so, that’s easily the hottest thing that’s ever happened to me.”

  “Oh. Then yes. Yes I did.”

  “But we ought to get out of the street here, before we get mugged or something.”

  “Oh. Yeah.” She didn’t want to move, and had to force herself to push away and straighten up. Ed hitched his pants back into place while Beth assessed the damage to her own wardrobe. Her silky dress was twisted around, nearly exposing one breast. She settled it back into place, then searched the ground near her feet until she found her keys.

  Her car had locked itself again, and she had to cheep it to get the door open.

  “So.”

  “So. I guess I’ll see you over there.”

  “I guess so. Strawberry rhubarb or pecan, right?”

  “Right. But only if the pecan is—”

  She kissed him. Grabbed his shirt, pulled him in and kissed him like it was the end of the world, just because she wanted to know how he tasted—and because she’d already done so many insane things that night that kissing a stranger on a dangerous street seemed like a sane choice in comparison.

  He was startled. There was a clash of teeth, an accidentally nipped lip, before they lined up properly.

  It had been years since Beth kissed anyone but Aaron, who stood a full head taller than she did even when she wore heels. With Ed she was face to face, a whole new perspective. She’d expected awkwardness, uncertainty with tongue and hand placement, breathing conflicts to work out. But after that first bit of jockeying, she found that kissing Ed was not like kissing a stranger at all.

  It was the one thing she hadn’t expected, or been prepared for.

  It was perfect.

  * * *

  Ed tasted mint, and his own come, and possibly some other flavor that might or might not have been crazy sauce.

  It didn’t matter. Nothing else mattered but this, right here, his lips and tongue and Beth’s amazing mouth and her slender hands reaching to grab his ass just like he’d grabbed hers earlier. They would stay here forever, kissing and groping and periodically getting each other off, until they starved to death or got shot in a turf war. And Ed was okay with that. Totally worth it.

  She’d started it, and she ended it, to his regret. With a final squeeze of his rear that nearly got him going all over again, she pulled back and sidled between the car and th
e open door to establish a buffer zone. The door indicator was dinging, and the dome light drew a few mosquitoes into the car.

  “Pie,” she told him, nodding firmly. “Time for pie. Do you want a ride to your car? Did you ever get your phone?”

  “I did. You should have some sort of upvote button on you. I need to upvote you.” He waved his hand over a few areas, suggesting where he thought said button might be found.

  “Yeah. No upfisting, though. That’s a hard limit.”

  “Huh?”

  “Never mind. I have a feeling I’ll be explaining it later. Pie, Ed.”

  “Pie, Beth. I’ll walk to my car.”

  Like the well-brought-up Texas boy he was, he waited to make sure her car started up properly and she was safely on the road. Then, after a few seconds of pointlessly staring after her taillights, Ed made his way back down the street to his own car. Passing the stoop of the club, he tipped an imaginary hat to Big Dog and Sir Tobias.

  “Have a good one,” Dog called.

  “Thanks, man. Working on it.”

  The drive to the pie house near the condo complex was just long enough for Ed to work up some anxiety about what had happened.

  Did that really happen? Because he was not the guy to whom real-life Penthouse stories occurred, or at least he never had been before. His dick was already anticipating next time, and he ended up turning the air conditioning to its coldest setting despite having just experienced a phenomenal release. The cold didn’t do much to quell his desire to see and hopefully violate Beth again, but it was a welcome change from the humid evening.

  A particular chill on his thigh drew his attention, and when he identified the source of the moisture on his jeans, he nearly had a wreck.

  Reluctantly, Ed directed an air conditioning vent toward his leg. By the time he parked at the pie house, the mark had all but faded, though he could still feel it there. Taunting him. Because surely that had been a one-off, a product of the heightened sexiness of the sexy sex club. Pheromones they blew through the vents in there, or something in the water, to keep things lively. Surely Beth would never consider dallying with a man like him if she were in her right, non-pheromone-crazed mind. He would have to keep these pants in their sullied state forever, to remember her by.

  He wasn’t as sure he wanted to remember the experience in the club. He’d expected the pain to kill the arousal he’d experienced from snuggling Beth’s exceptional leg. Instead, from the moment of the first blow, he’d liked it. Loved it. His dick had responded accordingly. Maybe because he’d gone into it with a challenge to himself, to take whatever he’d seen Cami endure. Maybe because he’d been keyed up to begin with, or because he was in a room full of half-naked people. And some completely naked people, if you didn’t count the cock harnesses. But it was unsettling, how turned on he’d gotten from something he had never fantasized about, never even considered for himself.

  And how much harder he’d gotten, thinking about doing the same things to Beth. Half-naked Beth. Or even completely naked Beth, sporting stripes on her back that he’d left there himself for everyone to see. He was hard from thinking about hitting a girl with a whip, from fantasizing about marking her, and that just couldn’t be right...could it?

  The trip to the pie house went by much faster than he’d expected. Inside the familiar eatery, the chilly air and intoxicating aroma of baking pastry swamped Ed’s senses enough to distract him from his distressing train of thought. The group was at their usual booth, and he edged in on one end next to Ben, taking the only space left. Beth sat opposite, looking cool and elegant. She hadn’t changed, like some of the others, but she’d done something to make her dress cover more in the front. She was the only unfamiliar element here, a fresh jewel in an old setting, making it new all over again.

  How many times had he sat with the rest of them in this booth, after late movies or just for the hell of it? Had it ever looked so good in here, so on-purpose shabby-chic retro hip? What was that song, the one the loser dude sang in My Fair Lady? Ed’s brain helpfully started the soundtrack, embedding the tune in his ear so he had to converse with his friends and order pie—pecan, because it was fresh—while trying not to hum along with his earworm.

  All at once am I several stories high, knowing I’m on the street where you live...

  “What took you so long getting here?” Ben prodded. “It’s a pretty straight shot.”

  “I, uh...I walked Beth to her car first then walked back to mine. Wanted to stretch my legs a little.”

  His friend snorted. “Too bad it wasn’t a cold night, right? Hey, how’s that back feeling?” He slapped Ed on the back of his shoulder, setting every welt stinging again.

  “Asshole.”

  “It’s like a sunburn, sweetie,” Cami commiserated. “It’ll be an invisible magnet until it fades. People who’ve never slapped your back before will do it in the next few days and they won’t even know why.”

  “I totally did it on purpose, though,” Ben said, grinning without shame. “Consider it part of the hazing process for joining the club of deviance.”

  “Is there a T-shirt or something?”

  “No, the uniform is clothing-optional. But there is pie. And you’ve already experienced the secret handshake.”

  Ivan leaned across the table. “There isn’t really a uniform or secret handshake. Ben’s being facetious.”

  Ed nodded solemnly. “Got it. Thanks.”

  Ivan mirrored his nod, then smiled more knowingly than Ed was used to seeing from him. “But he wasn’t lying about the pie.”

  They were all snickering like twelve-year-olds when the waitress returned with their drinks.

  “So do you think you’ll come back, Ed?” Lindsey asked as they sugared their teas and unsheathed their straws. “You were a great sport, but it’s not for everybody.”

  He glanced at Beth before he could stop himself. She had the same question on her face.

  “I’ll have to get back to you on that. And in the meantime, let’s talk about anything else.”

  “The Fighting Perdedors!” Ben suggested.

  Beth lifted her eyebrows. “I beg your pardon?”

  “It’s our RPG group,” Cami explained. “Even when we’re not doing a big AD&D campaign or something, we meet every Wednesday night and play board games. A few months ago we tried to win this one group adventure game that’s really hard to beat, but we lost three game nights in a row. So we decided we were total losers, but of course we still kept playing. Not that same game, obviously, because it sucks. But anyway, that was the birth of the Fighting Perdedors.”

  “Now we shall sing the song of our people!” Ben rallied them. To Beth’s amusement, they did, busting into the chorus of a song that had been popular on the radio several years ago.

  They were all in noisy unison by the time they reached “So why don’t you kill me?”

  To her relief, they stopped after the one line, breaking into laughter and deliberately missed high fives. The waitress, approaching with a round of pie slices, had clearly heard and seen it from them before.

  “My geeks,” she said fondly.

  “It’s the magical pie fairy. We love you, pie fairy!” Lindsey said as she reached across Ben to meet the waitress halfway.

  They were good tippers, Beth suspected, or the pie fairy wouldn’t be so amused by them. But they were also infectiously happy, obviously coasting on endorphins and pheromones and the weird combination of satiation and lingering arousal that sometimes followed a scene. It was such a contrast to the club, this happy well-lit group of friends. Somehow they’d shifted from the kink mode—and a group in which she was a member and Ed was not—to the geek mode, and a group in which Ed was a member and Beth was not.

  Yet it was the same group, fundamentally. She shouldn’t be surprised that Ed had joined them. Beth had been skeptical about Ben and Lindsey—Ben, particularly—when Ivan and Cami first brought them into the fold, but they’d turned out to be a great addition to the c
lub, an infusion of fresh enthusiasm. Ben, who’d seemed such a dilettante top-wannabe on first meeting, had revealed himself to be one of those quietly evil, delightful sadists who could coax his sub into doing almost anything without ever raising his voice or dropping his smile. Beth had seen Lindsey dripping with hot wax, tormented with capsaicin gel, suspended in ungodly predicaments, undergoing all sorts of tortures. Always cursing Ben and the universe, while he smiled and whispered in her ear and kept doing whatever horrible thing he was doing. Lindsey, of course, was a classic pain slut so she enjoyed what he did up to a point...then he pushed past that point, as far as he could, clearly reveling in the power exchange this implied. Lindsey seemed willing to submit to nearly anything if it ended in praise and a cuddle, so they were perfectly matched. And adorable.

  Ivan hadn’t objected to Ed’s presence, which was as good as an endorsement from the Professor. If he’d been right about Ben and Lindsey, Beth had to assume he was right about Ed as well. And unlikely Ed had certainly fallen into his role easily tonight. He’d even fooled Aaron. There were moments when Beth herself had forgotten he was just pretending. And there had been nothing imaginary about the way he got hard from being flogged, or the way he’d responded to her out by the car.

  Physical enjoyment does not imply psychological enjoyment, she reminded herself. Some reactions were mechanical, involuntary. Some guys got hard from nearly anything, could come in seconds from whatever stimulation was available. Ed could also have been responding to visual stimuli, given all the nude women in the club.

  By getting him off, of course, she’d rewarded that response. In theory that should make him more likely to want to repeat the behavior that earned the reward. One data point was insufficient to determine much, however. The real question was whether Ed would come back so she could gather additional data. Implement further stimuli and either provide or withhold rewards so she could observe his responses.