ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Koko Brown is a quintessential erotic romance junkie who once read over 200 Zebra Club novels the summer before her senior year in high school.
Calling the east coast of Florida home, this multi-published author of erotic romance loves to travel and shop in thrift stores.
For more about Koko Brown and her other books visit www.kokobrown.net.
You can also follow her on the following:
Pinterest.com/authorkokobrown
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NERDS ARE FREAKS TOO
BY
KOKO BROWN
CHAPTER ONE
“What qualities are you looking for in your Mr. Right?”
Roxanne glanced up at the bakery’s carnation-pink ceiling and pretended to mull over the question. “I think he should be young, hung and full of cum.”
Apparently not amused, her best friend Leonidas slammed his laptop shut. “I’m out of here.” He began to stand but Roxanne grabbed his hand.
“I’m only teasing, Leo. Please don’t leave.” Roxanne glanced at the booth next to theirs. A group of Catholic schoolgirls sat across from them. They munched on chocolate cupcakes and giggled over the current issue of some bubble gum magazine, but Roxanne leaned forward just in case.
“I’m nervous about this whole online dating thing. If you don’t help me, I’ll end up with some bald, sixty-year-old guy with a postage stamp fetish.”
A smirk lifted one corner of Leo’s mouth as he pushed his black Buddy Holly-esque glasses up the bridge of his nose. The thick glass magnified the size of his beautiful blue eyes.
For the thousandth time, Roxanne wished he’d ditch them. His baby blues rivaled Jake Gyllenhaal’s.
“If you’re so skittish about online dating, why sign up? You’ve never had an issue meeting men.”
True. With her Coke-bottle size-twelve curves, gregarious personality and confidence equivalent to a she-lion’s, Roxanne never had trouble meeting men. Just not the right man. Silently cursing how well he knew her, Roxanne pulled on her earlobe.
“Roxie…” Leo coaxed.
She wanted to squirm. Talking to a guy with a Mensa-certified I.Q. of one hundred and fifty-one about needing more variety in your sex life seemed so trivial. “You don’t want to hear the boring details.”
“Try me,” he replied, relaxing back into the booth.
Roxanne caught his gaze and held it. “No judgments?”
“Have I ever judged you?”
Actually, no. Despite all the tomfoolery she’d committed over the years, Leo had always been tolerant.
“I’m hornier than a private during Marine Week.” She sighed dramatically. “I haven’t had sex in—”
“Eight months, three days and…” Leo glanced down at his watch. Roxanne had given him the titanium timepiece for landing his first client several years ago. “Sixteen minutes and forty-five seconds.”
Roxanne wrinkled her nose to keep from laughing. “You’re exaggerating the minutes and seconds.” Leaning forward, she pulled the sugar shaker toward her and fingered the rim. “I guess I’ve over shared one too many times.”
Leo inched his index finger toward his thumb. “I’m this close to handing out ‘Get Roxanne Laid’ campaign buttons.” His perfectly timed humor made Roxanne chuckle. “Jokes and horniness aside,” he continued, “I believe the ‘why’ is more important than the ‘how long’.”
Damn he’s good! Roxanne sat back, wavering between confession and mule-headed secrecy. She drummed her polished nails against the chrome tabletop, trying to buy herself some time. But Leo’s I-can-outlast-you-any-day look obliterated her game plan. “My sex life is missing something.”
“Missing what?”
Roxanne glanced at the teen-pop crowd again. “Actually, my sex life is abysmal,” she muttered.
Leo’s eyebrows jutted above the frames of his black spectacles. “How abysmal?”
“Black-hole, Deep Impact abysmal.”
Leo rubbed his hand over his mouth and regarded her with what looked like disbelief. “Deep Impact?” Roxanne nodded. “Well, I wasn’t expecting that. Not from the poster girl for young, black and fabulously single in the Windy City. Up until several months ago, you ran through men faster than the NFL draft.”
Roxanne winced. She hadn’t been that free with the milk, had she? “You make me sound like a two-piece-chicken-and-biscuit whore.”
Leo chuckled. They’d come up with the term in college to define all the co-eds who’d put out for the cheap two-dollar meal from Ray’s Bar-B-Que, a popular late-night hangout.
“You know I’ve always followed the motto, what’s good for the goose is good for the gander.” His voice dropped an octave. “So, let me get this straight. You stopped having sex because whoever was doing it to you wasn’t doing it for you?”
Roxanne smiled. Leo had such a way of putting things. “All of them gave it their best. I think they were just too…” Roxanne paused, hunting for the right word to describe her whitewashed sex life.
“Vanilla?”
Roxanne rapped her knuckles against the table and Leo’s eyebrows rose another inch. Any higher and they’d blend into his hairline. “Jessina says I need a take-charge kind of guy. A macho man who’ll push me to the edge, make me beg for it.”
During her sexual confessional, Leo’s expression grew increasingly pensive. As the seconds of complete silence stretched between them, Roxanne’s insides twisted. For someone who considered herself a sexual being, her lack of a decent sex life made her feel a little inadequate.
“If you’re looking for what I think you’re looking for, you’re wasting your time on a traditional dating website.” He slipped out of the booth and moved to her side, sliding in next to her. “You need to go directly to the source,” he continued, swiveling his laptop around to face them.
With a few quick strokes and a click of the mouse, he pulled up a website with a black background and deep red fonts. The site had the prerequisite smiling couple as its blissful mascot.
Instead of the innocent hugging pose, the man wore a half-mask and lay handcuffed to a platform bed while his female companion stood over him with a braided flogger.
“WhipADate.com?” she whispered, unable to tear her eyes away from the computer screen. “Why have I never heard about this?”
“You’re vanilla, remember?” Leo maneuvered the cursor over the member profile link and clicked enter.
“Oh my,” Roxanne breathed as a portal unlike any she’d ever seen unfolded on the screen.
“What are those? Sexual fantasies?” she asked, pointing to a sidebar with scrolling text.
“Member testimonials of fantasies fulfilled.”
Roxanne sat forward. Her eyes devoured a catalogue of member photos featuring full-frontal nudity, skin pinched with wooden clothespins, limbs entwined in rope and chains, and mouths stretched with rubber balls.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” she murmured aloud and then shook her head. It was one thing to talk shit, quite another to walk the walk, it seemed.
“Everything on this site is real and hardcore. And you’d better be as well, or at least serious about your intentions, because the membership has a tendency to out those who are simply window shopping. If they do, you’re dead in the water and you’ll be using your vibrator for another eight months.”
Roxanne stiffened. She and Leo discussed pretty much everything, but never the most intimate details of their sex lives.
“You’ve never used a sex toy, have you?”
Groaning loudly, Roxanne sat back. “It’s confirmed, Houston. I’m vanilla.”
Leo drummed his fingers on the keyboard. “Are you sure you’re ready for this? Do you think you’ll be able to let someone else bend you to their every whim?”
She might not have a submissive bone in her body, but for some reason the idea of being compliant to someone else’s every wish and command pulled at something deep inside her.
“You know, there’s a more sensible alternative.”
“There is?” Roxanne hated that she sounded so eager.
Leo nodded. “You could start out slow with someone you know. I think―”
“Only one problem,” she interjected. “I’ve never backtracked, and I’m not dating anyone currently.”
Leo turned toward her and propped his arm on the back of the booth. When his thigh brushed against hers, Roxanne didn’t think anything of it. While in college, they’d often slept in the same bed. However, when Leo didn’t say anything…just sat there staring at her…she started to fidget.
“I don’t want you to do this with anyone else, Roxie. I want to introduce you.”
Roxanne slapped his thigh. “Ha ha, good one!”
Thinking nothing else of his proposal, she picked up her half-eaten red velvet cupcake and took a bite. Too bad the dessert didn’t come with a dick. The mix of chocolate and cream cheese almost made her moan as she devoured the rest of the cake. When she fell back down to earth, Roxanne finally noticed she was the only one laughing.
“You’re serious, aren’t you?” She couldn’t keep the incredulous tone out of her voice.
“Very,” he replied, powering off his laptop.
The crumbs in Roxanne’s mouth suddenly turned to dust. She picked up the Mason jar next to her plate and gulped down her milk, wishing it was something stiffer.
Never in a thousand years would she have guessed Leo wanted more than friendship! If his tight-lipped answer was any indication, a new millennium had obviously dawned. Roxanne eyed him over her glass. Not as a good friend, but as a woman eyeing a potential lover.
Easy on the eyes, Leo had a curly mop of jet-black curls that offset his electric blue eyes and the rich, olive-toned skin he’d inherited from his Greek parents. Those very same genes also contributed to a pair of full lips, high cheekbones and a lean, six-foot-plus frame that didn’t need much in the form of exercise, even though he worked out on a regular basis.
Looks aside, Leo was also very intelligent and the owner of one of Chicago’s most successful internet companies. He’d earned his first million five years ago at the ripe old age of twenty-four.
Despite the solid foundation, Roxanne knew she couldn’t go there. Becoming lovers would only complicate things. Boyfriends came and went, true friends did not.
Wedged between a rock and a hard place, she decided to grease her way out of a difficult situation with reverse psychology. “You and I both know I’m not your type.”
“Not my type?” Leo rolled his eyes. “You’re one of the most desirable women I’ve ever met.” Leo’s light gaze slid over her in a lingering perusal. Hot, predatory and disturbingly wicked, the gaze lingered far too long on her cleavage.
Unsettled and feeling a growing itch between her thighs, Roxanne snapped, “Who are you kidding? Every woman you’ve dated sprouted from the same Grow Me a Barbie Petri dish. All of them were size zero, blonde and blue-eyed, just like your ex-fiancée.”
Roxanne winced as a shadow fell over Leo’s expression before he quickly blanketed it. Damn! Leo’s confession had so unsettled her, she’d run roughshod into forbidden territory.
Two years ago, Victoria Carlson, Leo’s former fiancée, had called off their wedding a month before the nuptials on the ridiculous assumption that Leo was in love with someone else. The idea was preposterous. Leo had always been a one-woman man.
Roxanne reached out to diminish the damage. When her fingers brushed along his forearm, a jolt of electricity bolted up her own. Startled, she drew back. What was wrong with her?
“You’re looking for excuses.” Leo cocked his head and mustered up a tight smile. “I would have never taken you for a coward.”
Roxanne’s mouth fell open. “Take it back!”
“Coward.”
“I think cautious is a better word for it.”
Leo tucked his thumbs under his armpits and flapped his arms. “Bock, bock,” he clucked.
A patch of giggles erupted across from them. Time to go. Ignoring the whispers and giggles of the parochial set, Roxanne grabbed her clutch bag and pushed Leo from the booth, sliding out behind him. “Let’s take this outside,” she said, nodding at their underage audience. She threw a twenty on the table while Leo gathered his things.
Roxanne stepped outside and pulled on her leather gloves. Chicago’s temperature must have plummeted twenty degrees while they’d been inside Let Them Eat Cake.
Leo followed, bursting into a speech as soon as he cleared the threshold. “Why won’t you admit it? The real reason you won’t consider me is because you’re not attracted to me. Roxanne Simmons always falls for tall, dark and debonair. Not tall, white and geeky. You like guys who wear cashmere, tailored suits from London and suede horse-bit loafers. Not computer geeks who live in wrinkled khakis, button-down shirts, Chuck Taylors and glasses.”
Broadsided by his superficial opinion of her, Roxanne stood rooted to the spot—because she realized she couldn’t entirely disagree. But saying she found him unattractive wasn’t exactly the truth. Leo might not be GQ’s man of the year, but there was something about him that appealed to her in a way other men never would.
Still, his opinion stung. She refused his hand when he found an opening in traffic, instead picking her own way through Chicago’s midday rush. She needed the brief respite to dampen her hurt and anger.
Once on the other side of the street, Leo clicked his key fob, opening the doors to his silver Maserati GranCabrio. Roxanne crossed in front of the shiny four-seater, which Leo called his First Born, and scaled the curb. Miffed by the whole situation, she didn’t get in the car but instead started to pace beside it briskly.
“Leo…I’m hurt by what you said back there. I don’t find you unappealing. Far from it.” Roxanne stopped abruptly and faced him. “But you’re my best friend. I love you and I don’t want to lose what we have by downgrading you to a booty call. Think about it. If it doesn’t work between us, can you go back to what we have now?”
For several drawn-out seconds, he didn’t say anything. In the late-afternoon sunlight, his exotic features were more pronounced and his gaze twinkled like diamonds behind the black frames of his glasses.
“No,” he finally admitted, shoving his hands in the pockets of his khakis. “Once I’ve tasted you, I’d be unable to settle for anything else.”
Roxanne blamed the milk she’d gulped down earlier for the sudden flutter in her stomach.
“Come on, get in,” he said. “I’ll drop you back off at the boutique. I’ll come over later and we’ll finish your profile.”
Roxanne nodded in agreement. But as she slid in beside him, she wondered if what she really needed was online…or already sitting right beside her.
* * * * *
Leo realized the dynamic between them had changed the moment Roxanne had climbed into his car. During the half-hour commute across town, she didn’t speak a word. She’d even taken pains to make sure they didn’t touch, sitting as stiff as an ironing board. And when he’d dropped her off, she’d jumped out of the car so quickly, he could barely say goodbye.
Cursing under his breath, Leo gripped the leather steering wheel. He’d opened his big mouth and ruined everything.
Leo made a sudden right. As he merged into traffic, he speed dialed his assistant. Instead of returning to his offices overlooking Lake Shore Drive, he headed west outside the Loop and Chicago’s downtown business district. He needed to let off some steam and there was no better place than a round at Halsted Boxing Club.
“What’s up, boss?” His personal assistant, Marcello greeted him on the other end.
“I need you to clear the rest of my afternoon.”
“Okay.” Leo heard the hesitancy in the other man’s voice. “You’re not sick, are you?”
If he were in a good mood, Leo would have smiled. He was notorious for his work ethic. He worked so many hours, his staff, which now numbered in the double digits, had nicknamed him the 80-Hour Man―behind his back, of course.
“No, I’m heading uptown to HBC. I need to work through some things, let off some steam.”
Damn, too much information. His assistant knew he and Roxanne had a late lunch every Tuesday and Thursday. And since he’d left in a good mood, it wouldn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out something had gone down between the two of them.
Extremely private when it came to his personal life, Leo gripped the steering wheel even tighter. Roxanne had him so turned inside out he wasn’t behaving like himself.
There was a long pause on the other end and then Marcello’s baritone voice drifted through the receiver. “No problem, boss. I can shuffle Mr. Lloyd around. Any phone calls you would like me to pass on to you?”
“No.” He knew Marcello was fishing for information.
“See you tomorrow. Enjoy the rest of your day.”
“Same to you,” Leo replied automatically. He doubted he’d be able to really enjoy anything for quite some time. He’d made sure of it by alienating Roxanne.
* * * * *
Only five blocks from his parents’ home, the Halsted Boxing Club was so far removed from the shiny, spotless gyms most hip Chicagoans flocked to. Truth be known, many locals barely knew the club existed since the brick building still resembled the public bathhouse it once housed during the first half of the nineteenth century.
The interior wasn’t much of an improvement. Converted into a boxing club in the early 1950s, Halsted remained dark, dank and smelled worse than the inside of an old gym bag. Leo wouldn’t want it any other way.
The place kept him grounded, reminded him of how far he’d come from the hard-headed fourteen-year-old disciple of the No Mercy Graffiti Masters. To this day, Leo still marveled over the fact he hadn’t ended up behind bars or living on a park bench, still breaking into train yards. But he’d straightened his life out—or had it straightened out for him by the gym’s owner.
Salvatore Cipriani had caught him defacing the front of the building with a Papadopoulos original. Instead of turning him in to the cops, he’d marched Leo down to his father at the family restaurant and told him to get one last look, because Cipriani now owned Leo’s ass, lock, stock and barrel.
The crotchety, third-generation Sicilian hadn’t been bluffing. He put Leo to work fixing what he’d damaged. What should have only been two days, Leo’s punishment lasted two months as Cipriani had him repairing or repainting practically everything.
But by then, Leo didn’t care. He was so hooked on boxing he was making up excuses to stick around. Thankfully the old man took pity on him and opened a spot for him on the youth boxing team. One single act of charity had led to half a dozen amateur boxing titles and a four-year academic scholarship from the USA Boxing Association, which he’d used to attend Northwestern University.
He’d paid his debt, but Leo received far more in return. He attributed his strict personal discipline, his successful career, multimillion-dollar fortune and even Roxanne to boxing.
As his thoughts turned to Roxanne, Leo developed a mental hard-on. What’s new? He’d been in lust with the curvaceous brown-skinned beauty since the moment he’d laid eyes on her outside the college bookstore several weeks into their freshman year, and secretly in love with her by the time they’d graduated.
Now he’d gone and ruined a perfectly good friendship by allowing his one-eyed monster to lead, instead of his head. After all these years, why had he decided to finally walk the line?
Simple—her rare sexual confessional had turned him on.
“Great job, dumbass,” Leo muttered, retying the drawstring on his dark-blue athletic pants.
“You’re here early.” Salvatore Cipriani’s gravelly bark followed Leo as he set himself up under a speed bag. The club’s owner had just hobbled out of his tiny office, carrying a mug of God knows what in one hand and a folded newspaper in the other. He glanced over at two guys sparring in the club’s center ring and snapped, “Keep your hands up, Rodney, unless you want your head to take the place of your ass.” Without missing a beat, he turned back to Leo. “What’s wrong?”
Leo rolled his shoulders. Sometimes he hated how well the old guy knew him. “I came in to exorcise a few demons.”
Salvatore’s shaggy eyebrows shot skyward. “Demons? They wouldn’t be of the female kind, would they?”
Leo shook his head. Salvatore could read people like a book. “How’d you guess?”
“You have a great head for business and you’ve tackled everything else with ease. Females, on the other hand, have always been your Achilles heel.”
“I hit on Roxanne.”
Salvatore nodded solemnly. He’d met Roxanne on several occasions and, with a sixth sense, he’d picked up on Leo’s secret infatuation. And ever since, the old man pestered him on an almost constant basis to finally seal the deal. “‘Bout time,” Salvatore barked. “When’s the special day?”
Leo shook his head. “Roxanne’s not interested. She doesn’t want to ruin our ten-year friendship.”
“Pshaah!” Salvatore waved his newspaper in the air. “What a load of shit. If a woman is really attracted to you, she won’t give a damn if you’ve been friends for three minutes, three days or thirty years.”
Leo rested his taped hands on his hips. “Now you know why I’m here rather than at work.”
Salvatore swatted the paper against his leg. “What are you going to do?”
“Nothing,” Leo muttered. In an attempt to close the subject, he lifted his arms and started working the bag. He didn’t get a chance to work up a momentum because Salvatore stepped around him and smacked his hand against the back of the bag.
“Nothing? You’re not going to try to convince her?”
“I don’t beg,” Leo countered with more attitude than he felt, but he didn’t need this right now. He was trying to blow off steam, not become even more worked up.
“Begging isn’t convincing. She just needs to see you in a different light.”
Leo almost rolled his eyes but didn’t out of respect. Salvatore believed he knew the art of seduction like he knew how to train a prize fighter. And he’d trained dozens over the years.
“You need to lay down the three Ts.”
“The three Ts?” Leo asked hesitantly, unsure if he really wanted to know the answer.
Salvatore smiled slyly. “You need to tempt her, tease her and make yourself so tantalizing she’ll want you as much as you want her. Oh, and you should cock block any potential suitors. You do know how to do that, don’t you?”
“Yes,” Leo replied, humoring his old mentor.
“Good.” Salvatore let go of the speed bag. “I’ll leave you to your workout. You’re moving slower than day-old grits. And that’s never a good thing, in or out of the ring.”
CHAPTER TWO
Roxanne clutched her third glass of margarita in one hand, a bottle of Heineken in the other and went to answer the door. Leo had called a little over an hour and a half ago to tell her he was on his way over to help set up her WhipADate.com profile.
Her steps slowed. How could she have been so blind? Leo was her best friend. She could read him like the back of her hand. Obviously not. His offer to be more than friends had hit her like a dump truck with no brakes. Thankfully she’d imbibed a couple of margaritas to fortify her nerves.
But as she opened the front door, Roxanne realized no amount of fortifying could have prepared her for seeing Leo again.
Casually dressed in a pair of well-worn jeans that hugged his thighs, he looked fresh from a shower. His dark curls were still damp and she could see where drops of water must have dotted the collar of his long-sleeved, navy-blue Henley.
Were his shoulders always that broad? Before she started to drool, Roxanne focused on his glasses. Instead of being a safety net, the dark frames drew her attention to his high cheekbones and aquiline nose, which helped her notice his full bottom lip—
“Hey, you,” he said, his voice interrupting her blatant inspection.
Damn, this is going to be hard. “Hey back.”
Mentally applauding the casualness in her tone, Roxanne stepped aside to let him in. Per their usual routine, she handed him the beer then locked the door behind him. “The computer’s set up in the den. So we’ll work in there.” There was no way in hell they were going upstairs to her home office.
As she led the way into the den, Roxanne found herself overwhelmed by his presence. It seemed to blanket and overshadows everything in the room, including her. Before she fell flat on her back and did something she’d regret, Roxanne hurried over to the sofa and sank down. She tried to slide over to give him some space but he sat on her skirt, trapping her. For the first time since she’d bought the winter-white maxi skirt, Roxanne regretted the purchase.
“I came up with the perfect user name for you.”
“Oh really,” she said, tugging on the flowing cashmere.
“I think you should use WantTheBIGOne.”
Roxanne didn’t care if she resembled a deer in headlights. His recommendation was disturbing on so many levels.
Scooting forward, Leo pulled the laptop toward them. His leg settled firmly against hers and Roxanne wondered why she had never noticed his perfect muscle tone.
“Like it?” he asked.
She more than liked it. Couldn’t he see her hands were shaking? Any harder and she’d spill her drink. Just in case, Roxanne set her glass down on the table. When she sat back, he rested his hand on her knee.
“You hate it, don’t you?”
“Hate?” she squeaked, as visions of her grabbing his hand and thrusting it between her legs danced before her eyes. “Hate…hate is a harsh term. Is there any particular meaning to the name?”
“I’m helping you kill two birds with one stone. You want great orgasms, of course. What’s the point of sex without them? And most women like men who are well endowed.”
Imagining Leo giving her the big one, in more ways than one, Roxanne licked her lips. “WantTheBIGOne is perfect,” she said as if through a fog.
Was that a smirk on his face?
While Leo turned back to the computer, Roxanne found she couldn’t tear her gaze away from him. Fascinated, she noticed the way his muscles rolled under his shirt with every keystroke, and how his curls kissed the nape of his neck whenever he leaned forward to peer at the screen.
With each passing second, the temperature in the room seemed to bump up a notch, which was impossible of course. It was almost Thanksgiving and close to fifty degrees outside. And Roxanne never turned on the heat until mid-December. Once again, she tried to put some distance between her and the source of the heat, but still found herself pinned.
“Now the fun stuff.” Leo sat back some so Roxanne could see the screen. His arm bumped hers and a jolt of electricity ran from the tips of her fingers to her collarbone. She swiftly sat upright and rubbed her chest in an attempt to dispel her reaction.
“Are you okay?”
“Yes,” Roxanne gushed. “Just having a spasm.” When a frown wrinkled his brow, she rushed forward with an explanation. “Long day, on four-inch heels no less.”
Leo shook his head. “I would tell you to shuck those torture machines but you look so damn sexy in them. I read somewhere that women call them f*ck-me boots.”
Before she went up in a puff of smoke, Roxanne averted her gaze to the computer screen. “S-so what’s the fun stuff?” she stuttered. His use of “f*ck” and “sexy” all in the same breath had her wetting her panties.
“We need to go through what you’re interested in.”
Roxanne breathed a sigh of relief. They were back on neutral ground. “That’s easy. I like shopping in thrift stores, traveling, playing charades, cocktails with intimate conversation and watching old black-and-white movies.”
A smile curled Leo’s lips, drawing Roxanne’s rapt attention. Can you add that I also like your lips? “Those are hobbies, and I’ve already entered them. We need to go through your sexual interests.”
“My sexual interests?” Confused, it was Roxanne’s turn to frown. “I like men.”
“That’s good to hear, but that’s not really what the site and its members want to know. Sexual interests include spanking or hair pulling or—”
“Hair pulling? Why would anyone— Whoa!” she yelped. Leo had grabbed a hold of her ponytail and tugged it back. Hard.
While she stared up at the vaulted ceiling, Leo shifted closer, his body invading her personal space. Her palms grew slick and her thighs parted of their own accord. If he pushed her back on the couch and tried to take advantage of her, she’d so let him.
“Do you feel that pleasurable pain?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. “Now imagine that pressure intensifying twofold as your lover does it while taking you, surging inside you, riding you hard. Now—do you see the draw?”
Roxanne squeezed her eyes shut. “Yes,” she gulped. “You can put me down for hair pulling.”
Leo tugged on her ponytail twice before letting go. “Good girl.”
While Roxanne slowly recovered and tried to figure out why she was so turned on by Leo’s simple praise, he went down her personal sexual checklist. Surprisingly, she said yes to all of them except for foot worship and girl-on-girl. Roxanne was so not a fan of toe jam or potentially sharing her clothes.
“What about spanking?”
Roxanne felt her butt cheeks flex. “What about them? I mean, what about spanking?”
Leo rested his elbows on his thighs. “Are you interested in being spanked?”
“Well, I never liked it as a kid.”
“Then that’s a no.” Leo reached out to click the no box, but Roxanne grabbed his elbow. He turned his head and looked down at her. “Yes?”
“It’s not the same, is it?”
Leo rolled his shoulder and Roxanne resisted the urge to bite into him. She could so eat him up right now. “Depends on your partner. Everyone has their limits.”
Days later, Roxanne would question why she said what she said next. “Do you think you can help me find my limit?”
Leo cocked his head and Roxanne almost lost her moxie. Needing to defend her reasoning, she continued. “You know, a girl can’t say yay or nay without at least some kind of prior experience.”
Roxanne knew she was sending mixed signals. But…why not him? Leo was both a man and seemingly well-versed in the lifestyle she so desperately wanted to explore. Better to test her tenacity with a friend than wasting some stranger’s time. Plus, she trusted Leo with her life. She could certainly trust him with her behind.
“Are you asking me to spank you?”
“Yes. I want you to spank me.”
Roxanne’s brown eyes widened, as if she were as surprised as Leo was. He thought he saw a hint of pleading there as well. Her eagerness teased his dominant side, but he wasn’t going to bite—not yet, anyway. Remembering the three Ts, Leo smiled at her then turned back to the computer.
Even when her hand tightened on his elbow, he shook off the urge to flip her onto his lap and remained motionless. She needed to know who was in charge.
“Will you spank me, Leo?” she asked so innocently his heart lurched with guilt.
If Roxanne knew her present state of arousal had all been orchestrated with the help of an old and unbelievably wise Sicilian boxing coach, she’d kill Leo, but not before she gutted like a catfish. In truth, he didn’t care. He wanted Roxanne so badly he’d sell his first born son to Rumpelstiltskin.
He glanced at her. “I’m waiting on you to say ‘please’.”
Her eyes widened again, reminding him an anime character. Then, as if coming out of a trance, she blinked. “Leo, will you spank me, please.”
Her assent moved Leo more than he’d expected. His heart started to drum almost violently and his balls tightened. Without a word, he reached out and wrapped his arm around her waist. Her mouth parted with a soft sigh and a shiver racked her body.
“You know this is only a spanking between friends and not the real thing, right?”
She licked her lips. “That’s why I think a taste should be sufficient.”
Stifling a groan, Leo fanned his legs outward to relieve the tightness in his ball sac. It didn’t keep his cock from growing hard as a brick.
“We should establish a safe word. If it gets too rough and you want me to stop, say red. If you want me to pull back some, say yellow. And if you want more, say green.”
Leo almost laughed when her mouth formed a perfect O. She really was vanilla. His lust somewhat abated by her na?veté, Leo sat back against the couch’s overstuffed cushions and drew her onto his lap, needing to gauge her reaction to his touch.
Roxanne immediately stiffened. Her hands rested in her lap and her legs jutted out awkwardly, reminding him of a wooden puppet. Leo smiled to himself. All he needed was a glass of water and they could tour Chicago’s comedy circuit.
“Relax, Roxie. You need to trust that I’ll be gentle.”
To his amazement, she expelled another sigh and did as he commanded. Her body went limp and she leaned into him, the heavy weight of her right breast and the warm press of her soft bottom rocking him. If he was a lion, he would’ve roared. Instead, he patted the open space next to him. “Stretch out across my lap, head and chest here, and try to relax.”
The new position shifted the hem of her top, exposing a mouthwatering swath of glowing skin the color of dark-brown sugar. Of course, he suspected she would taste ten times sweeter. At this angle, her waist appeared even more narrow, her hips and ass fuller. F*ck! She was so beautiful. Leo tipped his eyes upward and prayed for strength. It would be so simple to flip her skirt up and take a bite out of each butt cheek.
Testing her, Leo rested his palm on her lower back. She stiffened under his hand but this time Leo held his tongue. A good submissive only needed one correction.
Roxanne sucked in several shallows breaths. On the last exhale, she relaxed slightly and crossed her arms, resting her cheek against them. “Okay, I’m ready,” she murmured.
Not quite as stiff as a board, she was still pretty tense. Unable to hold back any longer, Leo raised his hand and let off some steam.
Half expecting her to cuss him out, Leo hesitated after the first slap. He’d hit her harder than he’d planned. He couldn’t help it. His primal instincts had roared to life and his lust had run away with his self-control.
Before he got carried away, Leo looked down at her. “Red, yellow or green.”
To Leo’s surprise, she whispered, “Green.”
Given the green light, Leo loosened the reins and let go. His lust demanded it. If he couldn’t gain release through his cock, he would reach the same sexual satisfaction from dominating her flesh.
Steadying her with a hand on her back, Leo raised his hand again and let it rip.
“Oh!” She started, her torso rearing up. Leo guided her back down. She hadn’t used the safe word. And until she did, he wouldn’t hold back. He lifted his hand once more and let it fall, harder this time.
Leo’s breathing quickened as she wiggled and moaned, her round flesh quivering under his palm. “Green!” she squealed. “Green…green…green…”
Her response fueled his desire and he gave her what she demanded, spanking her again and again, each time harder and harder.
“How does it feel?” Leo asked. His voice sounded gruff and disembodied. He felt like a man possessed. If he wasn’t careful, he’d blow soon. And he didn’t want that. If he was going to come, he wanted to do it with his cock buried in her mouth or p-ssy, not still nestled in the safety of his jeans.
“I definitely— Ah!” she sucked in a breath when his hand landed across her backside again. “I really like spanking.”
Leo growled. He’d never been this sexually frustrated in his life. Not even in junior high when Keisha Johnson-Miller used to flash him on the playground. And the feel of Roxanne’s wiggling butt cheeks only intensified his longing. Damn! He wanted to witness his handiwork. If she were his lover, he could yank up her skirt, yank down her panties and plunge his fingers into her core. Just imagining a blush tattooing her brown skin had pre-cum leaking from his cock.
Leo squeezed his eyes shut. His leg muscles tightened and breathing seemed impossible. She was just too warm and luscious. And totally oblivious to the havoc she was causing. She moved over him, rocking her hips over his crotch—
Leo’s hand stilled in midair.
She was dry humping him.
He wanted her to come, but not like this. “Roxanne, stop.”
“Stop what?” she panted, her hips gaining momentum.
“If you don’t stop dry humping me, we’re going to end up f*cking. Our friendship be damned.”
When her hips suddenly stilled, he bit back a groan. He’d half hoped she would disobey.
“Sorry,” she whispered, finally sitting up and sucking all the heat from Leo’s groin. “I guess that wasn’t very friend-like of me.” She laughed nervously and Leo couldn’t help the smile that came to his lips.
“No it wasn’t, but of course you know I don’t mind.”
“I’m sure,” she murmured as her gaze darted away. “I, ah, better see you out…long day at the boutique tomorrow.”
Leo’s balls shrank in his boxer shorts but he understood. This was all too new to her. Hell, it was a shock to his system as well. Just this afternoon, he’d divulged a secret he’d been holding close to his heart for almost ten years.
As they stood, he reached in his back pocket for his wallet. Better that than tossing her over his shoulder and carrying her upstairs to her bedroom. Taking his time, he pulled it out then fished inside for a business card.
“Can I borrow a pen?”
“Sure.” Roxanne looked around the room as if seeing it for the first time. Leo smiled to himself. She looked like she had no clue which way was up or down. After some disorientation, she handed him a pencil she’d located in the sofa table behind the couch. Leo scribbled onto the back of his card. “Your profile’s almost done. This is your username and password. You should have no problem completing the rest of the questions.”
Leo handed her the card and noticed she took pains to avoid his touch. It didn’t bother him. The damage was already done. She wore his handprint on her ass.
“I might not be a fan of your decision, but I’ll help you weed out all the weirdoes and undesirables if you want.” While she stared down at the vanilla-colored business card, Leo wondered what she was thinking. So much so, he wanted to kiss it out of her.
She finally looked up, meeting his gaze with a dreamy expression. “I’ve always appreciated you being my moral compass,” she murmured. “So, that would be nice.”
Nice? Far from it, Leo mused.
He was going to use her curiosity to drive her right into his bed.