Read Online Her Perfect Gift by Theodora Taylor - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Theodora Taylor
Tags: General Fiction
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heading out before it gets too late.”
He stood up and picked up his dish. “I don’t like leaving dirty dishes for room service. Will you help me rinse these off?”
“Sure. I guess so,” Lacey answered, feeling flustered but obligated to at least rinse a few dishes after he’d provided her with such a scrumptious dinner.
So she stood beside him, stiff and unable to provide her usual ramble, because though he had yet to touch her or even look at her in an amorous way, she could feel the sexual tension, thick as a cloud in the room.
He handed her a dish and asked, “What kind of girl are you?”
“What do you mean?” she asked.
“In Montana, you said you weren’t the kind of girl who had sex with a man because he bought her dinner. So now I’m wondering what kind of girl you are.”
A weird fear caught her heart in a tight lasso. “I still don’t understand,” she said.
He turned off the water and turned to face her. “You’re making it obvious you don’t wish to have sex with me tonight. You wore what looks like your workout clothes and you keep trying to leave. Why?”
She swallowed the hard lump of fear lodged in her throat and decided to just give it to him straight. “Because you scare me. Because I still don’t know why you paid Sparkle’s tuition, or bought my club, or why you’re here. But mostly because you scare me. I read guys for a living, and I can’t read you, and that makes me nervous.”
“Nervous,” he repeated. If she’d offended him, he didn’t let it show. Instead his eyes drifted down to her outfit. “Choosing to wear these clothes was a mistake.”
“Because you wanted me to wear something sexier?” she asked, her back going straight.
“No, because though I’ve lived in the States since college, I’m still very Japanese.”
She shook her head, confused. “What does that mean?”
“Have you ever seen Japanese porn?” he asked her.
She felt her cheeks heat. “Um, no. We get a lot Japanese clients coming through the club, but I haven’t explored the country beyond that.”
He began unbuttoning his shirt, “If you had ever spent any time in my home country, you would know the Japanese have a somewhat peculiar talent that your own country does not.”
It felt like her heart had moved from her chest and set up permanent residence in her stomach, but she couldn’t keep herself from asking, “What kind of talent?”
“Tentacles, baths, even simple conversation—we can make anything sexy. So while you were sitting across from me at the table, thinking I’d surely be turned off by your clothing, I was thinking what it would be like reach up under your shirt and take off your bra.”
To her surprise, his arms came around her waist, and he distracted her with a hot kiss as his hands snaked under the back of her t-shirt.
“And if you hadn’t worn such a simple bra, I wouldn’t have been able to do this…”
Before she knew it, he’d unclasped her bra and was pulling it off, taking the admittedly easy-to-maneuver straps down both her arms and stripping the bra off through one armhole.
She’d thought he’d strip her out of her t-shirt next, but instead his mouth closed over one of her nipples, lathing her breast through the worn material. Hot pleasure trickled from her chest straight into her womanhood. And she could feel her nipple puckering inside his mouth as her breasts swelled with instantaneous need.
“What are you doing?” she asked, unable to believe how hot the feel of a man’s tongue through her t-shirt was making her.
His answer was to let go of the breast underneath the I-G-L and move on to the one underneath the F-I-E. The cool air hit the now damp breast he’d abandoned, making for a heady contrast of hot and cold as he paid the same wet attention to her other breast. He tugged at it through the t-shirt with long, insistent sucks, and she could feel her pussy clenching in response. “Suro,” she moaned.
He stood up straight,
He stood up and picked up his dish. “I don’t like leaving dirty dishes for room service. Will you help me rinse these off?”
“Sure. I guess so,” Lacey answered, feeling flustered but obligated to at least rinse a few dishes after he’d provided her with such a scrumptious dinner.
So she stood beside him, stiff and unable to provide her usual ramble, because though he had yet to touch her or even look at her in an amorous way, she could feel the sexual tension, thick as a cloud in the room.
He handed her a dish and asked, “What kind of girl are you?”
“What do you mean?” she asked.
“In Montana, you said you weren’t the kind of girl who had sex with a man because he bought her dinner. So now I’m wondering what kind of girl you are.”
A weird fear caught her heart in a tight lasso. “I still don’t understand,” she said.
He turned off the water and turned to face her. “You’re making it obvious you don’t wish to have sex with me tonight. You wore what looks like your workout clothes and you keep trying to leave. Why?”
She swallowed the hard lump of fear lodged in her throat and decided to just give it to him straight. “Because you scare me. Because I still don’t know why you paid Sparkle’s tuition, or bought my club, or why you’re here. But mostly because you scare me. I read guys for a living, and I can’t read you, and that makes me nervous.”
“Nervous,” he repeated. If she’d offended him, he didn’t let it show. Instead his eyes drifted down to her outfit. “Choosing to wear these clothes was a mistake.”
“Because you wanted me to wear something sexier?” she asked, her back going straight.
“No, because though I’ve lived in the States since college, I’m still very Japanese.”
She shook her head, confused. “What does that mean?”
“Have you ever seen Japanese porn?” he asked her.
She felt her cheeks heat. “Um, no. We get a lot Japanese clients coming through the club, but I haven’t explored the country beyond that.”
He began unbuttoning his shirt, “If you had ever spent any time in my home country, you would know the Japanese have a somewhat peculiar talent that your own country does not.”
It felt like her heart had moved from her chest and set up permanent residence in her stomach, but she couldn’t keep herself from asking, “What kind of talent?”
“Tentacles, baths, even simple conversation—we can make anything sexy. So while you were sitting across from me at the table, thinking I’d surely be turned off by your clothing, I was thinking what it would be like reach up under your shirt and take off your bra.”
To her surprise, his arms came around her waist, and he distracted her with a hot kiss as his hands snaked under the back of her t-shirt.
“And if you hadn’t worn such a simple bra, I wouldn’t have been able to do this…”
Before she knew it, he’d unclasped her bra and was pulling it off, taking the admittedly easy-to-maneuver straps down both her arms and stripping the bra off through one armhole.
She’d thought he’d strip her out of her t-shirt next, but instead his mouth closed over one of her nipples, lathing her breast through the worn material. Hot pleasure trickled from her chest straight into her womanhood. And she could feel her nipple puckering inside his mouth as her breasts swelled with instantaneous need.
“What are you doing?” she asked, unable to believe how hot the feel of a man’s tongue through her t-shirt was making her.
His answer was to let go of the breast underneath the I-G-L and move on to the one underneath the F-I-E. The cool air hit the now damp breast he’d abandoned, making for a heady contrast of hot and cold as he paid the same wet attention to her other breast. He tugged at it through the t-shirt with long, insistent sucks, and she could feel her pussy clenching in response. “Suro,” she moaned.
He stood up straight,
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