Conned Page 2

  He couldn’t believe his luck. He’d wanted more time with Cricket but never dreamed it would be so easy. And even better, she’d done the work for him. He hadn’t even needed to broach the subject. Talk about great minds thinking alike.

  He bent low, letting the steamy water sluice over his head and down his back. When he’d thought to include her and her class in the lesson, he was just hoping to go on a few lesson-planning dates with her. He’d never even dreamed they’d be doing hands-on research. Using aphrodisiacs, no less. It was so suggestive, so rife with possibilities.

  Had that been her intention? He didn’t even know anymore. One second she teased; the next, she seemed to actually be flirting with him. Her view on sexuality was so matter-of-fact, she could just be looking at this as a viable and interesting research project. But what if she wasn’t?

  He needed to figure out where her head was so he played it just right. If this was an opportunity to see her naked and he missed it, he’d find the nearest building and jump. On the flip side, he didn’t want to make a jackass of himself if it turned out she was only trying to be friendly.

  Because friendly didn’t even scratch the surface of what he was feeling.

  Maybe getting tangled up with her would be okay if she were just a regular girl. Pretty, nice, bright, someone to settle down with. Someone who would be content going to nice restaurants, ice skating, and maybe playing bridge on the weekends.

  But that wasn’t him, and it sure as hell wasn’t Cricket. Her intellect was as sharp as her humor. And while she seemed kind, he didn’t think of her as nice. He didn’t want to take her to fancy restaurants, either. He wanted to make her dinner at home and suck her finger as she fed him until she begged him to bend her over the table and fuck her. He wanted to ski black diamonds with her, then race back to the outdoor hot tub and have mind-blowing sex outside where someone might or might not hear them. And if they played cards, he wanted it to be strip poker, where they’d both cheat to win if they had to.

  For a long-term relationship to work, didn’t someone need to be the voice of reason? The rock in the storm?

  Tuck scrubbed a hand over his face in frustration. No matter what his brain was trying to tell him, the reality was that she set him off. All thrusters engaged.

  It didn’t help matters that she was practically made for pleasure. Her body with its dips and curves and all that soft flesh. Her lips, so full, so juicy. He wanted to take the bottom one between his teeth and suck…then press her to her knees and have her wrap that mouth around his length, working him up and down.

  His cock twitched in enthusiastic agreement. The thought of her made him wild inside, like he was an addict and she was his fix. He’d felt that need before in his life, and he knew one thing for sure: needing something that bad was never good.

  Tuck closed his eyes and tried to picture his high school football defensive coordinator, Coach Abba. They’d called him Abba the Hutt, and just thinking of him was usually enough to take the edge off all but the heartiest of boners.

  No dice this time, though. In one hour, he was expected to be at the lab, where he would spend the better part of his afternoon testing out aphrodisiacs with the sexiest woman on the planet. He wondered briefly if anyone had ever died of horniness. He looked down at his swollen cock and let out a disgusted snort. Maybe it wouldn’t kill him, but if he didn’t take care of it, he definitely wouldn’t be able to walk straight.

  Tuck grabbed hold of the cheeky fucker and squeezed, shutting out his confusion, tuning out the noise in his head, and allowing himself to just feel. He groaned as he gripped his shaft, rubbing the distended head hard on the upstroke.

  The memory of Cricket rushed in like an all-encompassing wave. Her citrus smell, the golden silk of her skin, the long, tawny hair, the cleavage that beckoned him to slide his cock between those breasts until he exploded on her chest.

  Fantasy replaced memory. Her curvy hips clutched in his hands as she rode him hard. She’d lean forward so he could take one dusky nipple deep into his mouth and suck, while her tight pussy slid over him again and again.

  Heat pooled low in his groin as he fine-tuned the picture on his HD, mind’s-eye screen. Cricket’s teeth closing over her bottom lip as she struggled not to cry out. Her gorgeous tits bouncing as she fucked him, faster and faster. Her greedy hand slipping between them, rubbing her clit in quick strokes.

  His stomach muscles clenched. He could almost hear her breath coming in pants as she whimpered his name.

  “Tucker, oh God, yeah.”

  He groaned in response, his leg muscles quivering as the pressure built, sensation overloading his brain. He worked himself harder, blood roaring in his ears as his balls tightened, ready to blow.

  The climax hit him like a wrecking ball, smashing through his fantasy, splintering it into pure, incoherent pleasure. He came hard, hot liquid pumping out in spurts as shudders ripped through him.

  Gasping for air, he put a steadying hand on the slippery tile and waited for his heart to stop pounding.

  He stayed like that until the water cooled, drawing him back to reality.

  Damn.

  This wasn’t the first time he’d come while thinking about Cricket Malloy. Shit, it wasn’t even the tenth. But it had never seemed so real before.

  Maybe because, for the first time ever, the things he’d imagined were actually possible.

  Tuck groaned as his just-sated cock pulsed back to life. If just thinking about her made him feel like this, what would it be like having sex with her? He didn’t know if he’d live through it.

  And worse? He didn’t know if he cared.

  …

  When their scheduled meeting time finally arrived, Tuck had made up his mind. In the end, it was a no-brainer. He wanted the luscious Dr. Malloy, and he was going to pull out all the stops to get her. If she didn’t want him just as bad then he’d probably embarrass himself in the process, but those were the breaks.

  And if she did want him just as bad, and he lost himself in her? Well, he’d cross that bridge when he came to it.

  The only question now was how to get her to see him for what he truly was without making her suspicious. He had to transition from nerdy colleague to potential lover, and that transition needed to be smooth enough that it didn’t make her think too hard about it. If he moved too fast, she’d think he was a phony, one way or another.

  Today would be casual. No hard sell. They’d do the experiments, and he’d try to feel her out a little. He had something set up on the back burner that would test the boundaries, but he’d see how things played out before he committed to it totally. All the bases were covered, and he was feeling pretty good about the afternoon ahead.

  When the day came to an end, he’d see if maybe she wanted to get a drink that night.

  Yup, playing it cool was the way to go. He straightened the papers on his desk and glanced at the clock. Maybe she’d decided to ba—

  A sharp rap on the frosted glass of the lab door interrupted his thoughts, sending his pulse tripping. No backing out for Dr. Malloy. At least he’d managed to map out some sort of plan before she’d gotten there. Now if only he could pull it off.

  He took a deep breath and swung the door open, but the greeting on his lips died a fast death as he nearly swallowed his tongue.

  Cricket stood in the doorway dressed in a pair of denim shorts and a white tank top. Thin sandals capped off firm, lightly tanned legs. Her toes were painted red, and in that instant, he became a foot man. Her hair was in a loose knot on the top of her head and the desire to release it almost brought him low.

  She cleared her throat, and he realized he was gaping at her, hadn’t said hello, and was blocking her path to get into the lab.

  He stood back, waving her in with a sheepish smile. “I’m so sorry. I just never saw you dressed like that before. You look young enough to go to school here. How old are you, anyway?”

  Oh, yeah. Real smooth. Maybe ask her weight next.


  She chuckled at the obvious faux pas. “I’m twenty-eight. I’ll take that as a compliment. Since I have to dress for work during the week, I like to keep it loose and casual on the weekends if I can help it.”

  He was still so poleaxed by her appearance, he couldn’t respond. Great. Just when he’d decided to let her see how cool he was, all his cool melted in the face of her ridiculous hotness.

  She stepped in, and he closed the door behind her, biting back a groan as he got a full-length shot of the back view. The faded denim clung to her curvy hips, the worn material cupping her round ass like…well, like he wanted to do.

  He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to will away the erection that was rising, but it only made him more aware of the light, citrusy scent she wore.

  “Are you okay? You look like you’re in pain.”

  He opened his eyes to find her staring at him with concern. Get your head in the game, jackass.

  “No. Nope, just a little bit of a headache. Would you like a bottled water? I’d offer you some coffee or soda, but I don’t want caffeine to skew any results.”

  “Water will be fine, thanks.”

  He led her into the tiny office behind the lab and tried not to look at her as he got their drinks from the small fridge.

  It was going to be a long day.

  He led them back into the large lab area, then picked up the two spreadsheets that lay on the long Formica table and handed her one.

  “Okay, so here’s a list of the different foods we’ll be trying. Then I thought we’d try aural stimuli. Last, some visuals. I had hoped to do scents as well, but we don’t have the equipment we need to diffuse the scents enough to test more than one in this room.” He met her gaze directly and made sure his tone conveyed his sincerity. “Anything you’re not comfortable with, just let me know, and we’ll skip it.”

  “Not much makes me feel uncomfortable about sexuality. It’s the most natural thing in the world. I don’t really get why people make such a stink. It’s like being embarrassed of hunger or thirst.” Her wide, dark gaze met his, and he sucked in a deep breath, nodding. “Still, it was great of you to do this. Way better than just joining the lessons. The kids will really respond to the fact that we went the extra mile and did a project, too.”

  “Agreed.”

  She glanced at her printout and scanned the contents as he rattled off the highlights.

  “Okay, so we’re going to measure the results three different ways, depending on the test. Pupil dilation, heart rate, and electrodermal response. I’m going to ask you to wear this galvactivator on your hand.”

  “Amazing little thing, isn’t it?” she murmured, reaching out to touch the purple fingerless glove he held in his hand.

  He nodded his agreement. She’d gotten it on loan from a university in Philadelphia. Tuck had been blown away when she’d told him about it. The glove stretched, fitting tightly to any hand, and could measure even the slightest increase of skin conductance. Since human skin became a better conductor of electricity during arousal, the blip in the body’s normal behavior would be picked up by the sensors, and the light embedded in the glove would glow. It was a painless and easily measurable way to gather data. And it was a foolproof desire detector.

  He couldn’t wait to see it in action, but not because of its research potential. All he cared about was how the aphrodisiacs affected this particular subject. He tried not to think of what would happen when they switched roles.

  Because if Cricket Malloy was within fifty feet of him, his glove was going to be glowing like a motherfucker.

  …

  It took a few seconds to adjust to the total darkness. Cricket took a steadying breath. Being blindfolded was out of the ordinary in itself, but being blindfolded and hooked up to a bunch of sensors while rocking the Michael Jackson look was downright nerve-racking. She was like a beetle on its back.

  Vulnerable with a capital V.

  Tuck’s silence wore on her already-stretched nerves, and she cleared her throat, just to make some sound. “Well, if you’re going to reveal your true identity as the Westfield Snatcher, end the suspense and show me my cage.” Her voice came out sounding tinny. She tried for a laugh so he’d know she was kidding.

  Mostly.

  “My true identity? Nope, you get what you see. Well, you get what you hear, in this case I guess. Good old Tucker Lamb.” He sounded nervous as well, and that was strangely comforting. “Anyway, you’re going to hear a click. That’s just me turning on the video camera.”

  Recording had been her own suggestion, and it made sense. Having a record of the experiments made it possible to go back and review the material again in the event that any data were missed in real time.

  “The first item is something you listed as a food you like but that isn’t considered an aphrodisiac. I just want to get a baseline response so I can differentiate between food you enjoy and foods that elicit a sexual response.”

  She nodded. The sound of foil crumpling was followed by a scrape.

  “Open,” he instructed. The huskiness of his voice gave her pause, but she parted her lips a moment later.

  She closed her mouth over the cool tines of a fork and encountered something cold and creamy. The fork slid from between her lips and she chewed. Crunchy, too. Coconut cream pie with graham cracker crust.

  “Mmm…” she mumbled, savoring the flavors. Eating with a blindfold on was liberating. She could focus all her energy on the taste. “Please, sir, I want some more,” she said, laying on a thick Cockney accent.

  He let out a throaty chuckle that warmed her to the bone.

  “I don’t want you to fill up before we get through the rest of the stuff, but I’ll put it in the fridge so you can eat the rest later.”

  “Brilliant. Okay, I’m ready, what’s next?”

  The shuffle of feet and then the sound of his soft breathing, close enough for her to hear.

  “Open wide, then bite down.”

  The scent hit her first. Chocolate.

  She parted her lips and in came something sweet, no fork. She closed her teeth over the smooth object and bit down. Cool, sweet-tart juice spurted onto her tongue, and she groaned.

  Chocolate-covered strawberry.

  She chewed slowly, letting the fine, dark confection melt in her mouth before she swallowed.

  “Oh man, you sure know how to treat a girl.”

  A few seconds went by with no response.

  “Tuck?”

  Had he left her alone? Suddenly nervous, she reached a hand to the blindfold.

  “Sorry, I—uh, I had to record the data.” His voice was so thick her nipples tightened in response. She longed to tear the covering away from her eyes so she could see his expression. See if it was desire behind that dark, silky tone. The not knowing was at once frustrating and thrilling.

  She wondered whether the glove was lit up, then shoved the thought aside and cleared her throat. “Next.”

  She opened her mouth without prompting this time and waited. Again, the feeling of being totally vulnerable overtook her, but she kept her lips parted.

  The room was so quiet, she knew where he stood by his harsh breathing. What if, instead of feeding her, he leaned forward and kissed her? What if he ran his tongue over her bottom lip, then nipped her lightly before sinking into her completely?

  She sensed his body moving nearer, the heat of him tempting her to press close. His scent washed over her, sandalwood and vanilla, the minty bite of mouthwash—

  The cool steel of a spoon almost made her jerk back. Instead, she closed her mouth as silky smooth honey glided over her tongue and slid down her throat. Delicious.

  She licked her lips to pick up any errant drops, and the air in the room shifted. Tuck’s breathing quickened, and her stomach fluttered in response.

  “Again,” he murmured.

  She froze, unsure of his meaning. Lick her lips again? Or…?

  “Open again.”

  Ah, the experiment. She needed to
get her head out of the gutter. Obviously Tuck was just in the zone, focused on the task and distracted as he recorded the results.

  She opened again and waited. And again, the forbidden thrill of being at his mercy rippled through her.

  If he wanted to, he could wrap a fist in her hair and guide her waiting mouth over his thick cock, over and over.

  A rush of warmth pooled between her thighs and she shifted in her chair.

  “Wider.”

  Her nipples grew even tighter as she obeyed his command.

  She nodded but didn’t reply as she anticipated his next move. God, what if he did it? She could almost feel his smooth length butting against her lips, demanding entry. She’d tease him at first if he let her, suckling on the head of his cock before drawing him deep—

  A banana. She smelled it just as it touched her lips.

  She bit down, then chewed, trying to ignore her irrational disappointment. Who in their right mind wanted a man to tell her he was going to feed her, then stick his dick in her mouth instead? She almost choked on the banana as she tried not to laugh at her own foolishness.

  Tuck was a good guy. She needed to remember that.

  And a nice, long session with her vibrator later would surely make tomorrow’s experiments a little easier.

  Chapter Three

  Blood pulsed in Tuck’s cock like a steady heartbeat. He’d jerked off less than two hours ago, yet he was one well-placed touch away from coming in his pants.

  Feeding Cricket without touching her was the sweetest torture he could imagine. The low purrs she made deep in her throat when she liked something. The sight of her little pink tongue collecting honey from her lips. Hell, just looking at her blindfolded with her mouth open was enough to conjure up fantasies that would make a porn star blush.

  Then the glove had lit up. It was like a horny beacon, challenging him to keep it alight. Beckoning him to rub a thumb over her nipples, which had visibly peaked under the cotton shirt. Begging him to find out if her pussy was wet between those suddenly restless legs.

  What would she do if he slid his hand under those tiny shorts and dipped his fingers into her heat? Would she moan the way she had when he’d fed her the coconut cream pie?