Sex Idol Read online

  “Black, please. I can’t afford to add any more pounds.”

  Sasha nodded without comment and handed Bridget her drink before directing them to a meeting area. Four cushioned chairs with plastique backs and a gray plastique table took up the entire space. A notepad filled with lines of scrawled writing sat on the table along with a bright purple pen. Sasha had always liked handwriting instead of electronic note-taking. It helped her think better.

  “As I said, I’ve worked up a plan for you and Bridget.” Sasha crossed one long leg over the other, drawing Antonio’s attention.

  She remembered how he took his coffee. A small thing, but it raised hope. His gaze lingered on her legs. Long and well-toned, he reminisced how they felt wrapped around his hips, the little sighs she made deep in her throat.

  “What sort of plan?” Bridget sipped her coffee and pulled a face. She set down her cup and pushed it away. “I like spontaneity.”

  Huh, Antonio thought in disgust. She might like it, but she sucked at spur-of-the-moment. Impulsiveness had been the whole damn problem with their performances over the past six months. Bridget went her own sweet way, refusing to take direction and going off on a tangent during a contest. Anger bled through him as he remembered the last fiasco. His hands gripped his coffee mug a little tighter. They’d had the Montana title in the bag until Bridget farted. The on-stage microphones had picked up everything. The audience had thought her antics hysterical, and that was before the heckling started, wise quips flowing freely.

  Antonio would have passed it off as an accident, but during the second phase of their performance, she’d failed to climax and hadn’t even bothered to fake it for the audience. He frowned into the depths of his coffee. A series of mishaps had followed them this season—insignificant things that if taken on their own didn’t seem too bad. Added together, the tribulations seemed more ominous.

  Bottom line—Antonio didn’t trust Bridget any longer, and so he’d told her he wanted out of their partnership. He had no idea what game she was now playing. Perhaps asking her to train with him had given her confidence. As far as he knew, she hadn’t hooked up with anyone else, although she might go for the solo category. Then there was the newspaper story this morning…

  “I’ve analyzed several of your recent performances,” Sasha said. “Improvised sequences seem to be a problem. We need to work on structured routines.”

  A wave of red swept Bridget’s cheeks. Antonio watched with detachment. The color should have complimented her hair. It didn’t, clashing terribly. Bridget opened her mouth as if to defend herself before snapping it shut and lifting her nose in the air.

  Sasha rolled her shoulders, consciously relaxing her muscles. Watching Antonio was hard enough without this argumentative witch debating every decision. “This is what we’ll do. We’ll work on traditional today and, if that goes well, we’ll move onto planning a new threesome routine—one that will be easy for a third party to slot into even if they’ve never performed with you before. Have you finished your coffee? Do you need to warm-up?”

  Her gaze went to the window. A fog had swept in from the direction of San Francisco, shrouding the buildings opposite in a damp, forbidding cloak of blackish gray.

  She stood decisively. “I’ll turn the heaters on while you get ready.” Anything to fill the waiting time instead of dwelling on lost love. She powerwalked to the utility room.

  Jealousy. The emotion ate at her insides.

  Get over it.

  She leaned forward until the cool wall touched her forehead. After centering her mind, she pushed upright and flicked the power switch.

  The old heaters clanked to life, the fans inside forcing warm air into her classroom. Her ears strained to hear clothing rustling but not a sound carried above the heater fans. With trepidation she turned, steeling herself for the impact of seeing Antonio naked.

  All night she’d lain awake, tossing and turning, trying to forget the memory of his cock filling her, the lazy slide of movement that had teased her clit and propelled her into a soul-shaking orgasm. She shouldn’t have given in to the temptation to join them during their last training session. A mistake. She’d known it and would pay for it with more sleepless nights before her role as tutor ended.

  After another quick pep-talk, Sasha returned to her classroom. A tingle surged through her body, converging low in her abdomen as her greedy stare leapt to Antonio. He caught her gaze, held it, and her spirits leaped at the intimacy. She swallowed, her mouth dry as a nursery school sandpit. In that moment, she wanted him so much her hands shook.

  The man swaggered up to her, a small grin playing across his lips—the lips she wanted to taste. Sasha drew a shivery inhalation, filling her lungs with a jolt of Antonio. Soap. Shampoo. A hint of citrus. Suddenly, her clothes hung like heavy weights, constricting and threatening to choke the life from her. She busied herself with removing her jacket. The zipper grated loud as she jerked it down, despite the noise from the heater. The back of her hand brushed a sensitized nipple and Sasha’s breath rushed out in a groan.

  Antonio sidled closer and tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “Help me warm-up?”

  The intimate tone cranked up her body temperature. Inside, she squirmed as arousal seeped from her pussy. This was not a clever idea. But it was too late. Her traitorous body reacted, her hand landing on his warm skin. Conscious of Bridget’s presence, Sasha had to maintain her professionalism. This was no big deal.

  Big time lie.

  It was a big deal.

  Sasha stroked his biceps, storing sensations in her mind. The hard strength of him. His masculine scent. The way his dark hair curled into angelic ringlets, smoothing the hard edges off his tough-guy image. As if in a trance, Sasha closed the remaining distance between them.

  “It would work better if you took off your clothes,” he whispered.

  His expression held innocence, but his eyes danced with devilment.

  “I…” Sasha cleared her throat and tried again. “I don’t want to catch cold.”

  “I won’t let you freeze.” The heat in his dark eyes burned all the way to her pussy, tiny explosions that made her want to cry out, to beg and plead for more. She shifted her weight, the tug of her panties against her swollen flesh almost too much to bear.

  “I…no.” Sasha fought temptation with all she had, but her heart yearned.

  “Kiss me,” he demanded in a low undertone.

  Once again, surprise froze her for an instant. “On the lips?” Her voice quavered as she mentioned the one big sex contestant taboo.

  Antonio’s gaze wandered across her face to settle on her mouth. “I’d like that.” His eyes narrowed, passion staining his high cheekbones. “But not when we have an audience. Kiss me somewhere else.”

  Sasha swallowed, barely able to string together cohesive thoughts let alone speak. What did he mean? Lord, she didn’t want to think, to expect. She’d only get hurt. Her gaze drifted across his chest and down his body, coming to rest on his erection. Her tongue moistened her dry lips and, as she watched with avid hunger, his cock bobbed.

  “Not there either,” he said tersely. His eyes glittered, dark and intense. Mesmerizing. “Choose somewhere else.”

  Not for the first time, Sasha wished Bridget to the devil, even if she was the chaperone. So many places to choose from. Sasha placed a butterfly kiss over his heart.

  Antonio’s hand came up to tangle in her hair.

  “Again,” he whispered.

  His heart resonated beneath her fingertips as she steadied herself. Her tongue darted out to lick his smooth chest. Conscious of his erect cock trapped between them, she leaned into his muscled body. Teasing him. Teasing herself. Testing the boundaries. Her breasts peaked against the skimpy bra top she wore, and the man probably noticed the effect he had on her. He noticed everything.

  “Kiss me,” he said again, almost pleading. He directed her head.

  Sasha’s mouth grazed a flat nipple.

  Anto
nio’s breath hissed between his lips and a nervous laugh escaped Sasha. She glanced up, his hot gaze drawing her in, capturing her soul. Oh, man. She was in big trouble. Then the look in his dark eyes changed. They dared her to join his game. Sasha’s heart grabbed up the dare and ran with it. She scraped her teeth over his nipple. Back and forth until he couldn’t suppress a shudder. Then she closed her mouth over him and sucked hard. His cock twitched against her stomach. The desire to rip off her clothes, push him down on one couch and straddle him thrummed through her brain so insistently that she considered following through.

  “Thanks,” He murmured low and unsteady—almost as wobbly as her legs that threatened to buckle. “If you do much more I’m gonna explode.”

  Dazed with pure unadulterated hunger, Sasha let his hands, bands of steel around her upper arms, push her away. The weight of a stare grounded her.

  Bridget.

  Sasha forced a professional smile and drew herself up. “Do you need help warming up?”

  Bridget lifted one shoulder in an elegant shrug that made her unbound breasts sway. “Yeah okay, then. I don’t think it will take much.” Her faint smile contained a silent challenge.

  The other woman expected her to back down. Huh! Bridget didn’t know her well enough to realize Sasha was always up for a dare. She’d enjoy putting the woman in her place.

  Sasha yanked off her jacket and let it fall to the floor. With a toss of her head, she undid her bra top and shrugged it off. She stepped close to Bridget and dragged her peaked nipples across the other woman’s breasts. The pleasure that rolled through Sasha took her by surprise. She stilled before leaning down to blow across Bridget’s distended nipple. Bridget murmured approval and Sasha took the warm-up further, stroking her hand down the other woman’s rib cage and stopping just short of her mound before returning to the curve of her breasts. A throaty wail emerged from Bridget. She sighed and lifted her boobs, offering them to Sasha.

  “Touch me,” she pleaded. “I love a woman touching me. It makes me soooo hot.”

  Movement flashed in Sasha’s peripheral vision. Antonio had circled them for a better view. Her stomach lurched, her breath huffing out across Bridget’s flesh as their eyes met. His were dark and smoldering. Full of passion and heat. He wanted her to touch Bridget. Her gaze strayed to his erect penis. Watching them made him hot, too.

  Idly, Sasha circled her finger around Bridget’s nipple. Antonio followed the move and turned his attention on her. Sasha felt a burning sensation in her loins. She shifted her weight, aware of her arousal. She liked Antonio watching. But selfishly, Sasha wanted to banish Bridget so she and Antonio could finish their own seductive dance.

  “Suck me,” Bridget ordered. “I want to feel your wet mouth.”

  Sasha hesitated. Warm up Bridget so the training could start. What she wanted couldn’t happen—not if she wished her sanity intact. At least she’d have a child once the contest ended. She grasped tight to that thought.

  She lowered her head while one hand grasped Bridget’s slender shoulder for balance and the other lifted a peak to her lips. She closed her mouth around the other woman’s nipple, drawing softly as she cupped the plump curve. Her eyes slid closed, pitching Sasha into a world where senses ruled. She slid her hand off Bridget’s shoulder and cradled the woman’s other breast so it was easy to switch her mouth from breast to breast, from nipple to nipple.

  A ragged moan. From her? Or from Bridget? Sasha wasn’t sure. All she registered was a sea of sensations. Touch. Taste. And the fact that Antonio watched her with avid approval. Her own breasts tingled, and reaction sped to the juncture of her thighs. Bridget’s smooth skin was like silk beneath her fingers. The woman rocked against her, then widened her stance. Sasha let the bud pop from her mouth and opened her eyes a fraction.

  “Please,” Bridget whispered, shifting in a restless manner. She backed up to the nearest couch and reclined back. Her red hair contrasted with the creamy-colored sheet and pillow—a wanton angel intent on sin. Her piquant arousal drifted up to Sasha, so she eased back, knowing she’d completed her task.

  “How’s that?” She ignored the clawing urgency between her legs and stepped away from the couch.

  “Fine.” Bridget looked as though she wanted more of the same. “What do you have in mind for the traditional?”

  Sasha released a pent-up breath since she’d half expected an argument. “Research has shown that the male members of the audience like to see rear entry where the male appears to dominate the female. Females like to see a male’s naked ass.” Antonio had an especially fine one for them to ogle. She pondered his shoulders, chest and lower, his erect cock. His front view wasn’t too shabby, either.

  Antonio nodded. “Works for me.”

  “It also allows the audience to see Bridget’s breasts. I know the position has fallen from favor with contestants going for some of the showy poses from the Kama Sutra, but I think this will work well. Do you have any preference for music?”

  “The Frisco Stranglers,” Bridget suggested, showing unusual enthusiasm. Her eyes sparkled and a glow highlighted her cheeks. Arousal looked good on her.

  Sasha watched the other woman part her legs. Her labia were smooth and hairless. Perfect for an audience to view without restrictions. The silver stud glinted, drawing the eye to her swollen nub. A sigh drifted from Bridget. The woman lazily stroked her hand down her belly, across her bare pelvic bone to part her folds and massage the engorged flesh to maintain her arousal levels.

  Sasha considered and frowned. “I think we should go for something older and traditional with a modern twist.”

  Antonio stepped up to the edge of the couch and massaged Bridget’s shoulder, then her breast while still paying attention to Sasha.

  “Didn’t the Frisco Stranglers put out a version of that song about leaving your hat on?” Sasha asked. A sliver of pain cut her at the casual caress between the partners.

  “Oh yeah!” Bridget levered upward, setting her generous breasts jiggling. “I don’t mind that one even though it’s slow.”

  Sasha fought her mental comparisons between their bodies. Teacher, she reminded herself. “We’ll do a routine where we act the song out.” She glanced at Antonio, picturing him in a cowboy hat, faded jeans—unsnapped at the top—and dusty boots. Her mouth went dry as prairie dust, and she had the absurd desire to fan her face. Her—who’d seen and done almost everything when it came to sex. Damn. She had it bad if she was imagining the man in clothes.

  Antonio straightened without taking his attention from her and heat engulfed Sasha. Her hands went for her jacket before she remembered she’d already removed it. A fine tremor shook her hands as she remembered her partial nudity.

  “I like it,” he commented.

  His low, smoky tone hinted he wasn’t talking about the routine. Flustered, she stalked across the room to grab her notepad. She picked up her pen and promptly dropped it. It bounced off the wooden floor and skidded under the table.

  “Let me.”

  “I’ll get it,” Sasha said. “Why don’t you and Bridget discuss what you want to put in your routine?”

  “I could greet you at the door in my wrap.” Bridget lay back against the pillow, continuing to fondle herself.

  “You training for the individual contest, too?” Antonio nodded toward the hand working between her legs.

  “The prize is good. I could do with the money.”

  Sasha blocked them out while she gained control of her wayward emotions. She grabbed her jacket and thrust her arms into it. Sasha zipped it up and immediately felt as if she sat in a sauna. Arousal continued to nip, making her edgy and uneasy.

  The truth—she wanted to do the routine with Antonio. But did she want it enough to give up her dream of retiring and raising a family?

  Chapter Five

  Bridget and Antonio sat huddled on a red synleather couch, deep in discussion by the time Sasha located the pen under the table and stood again. Their heads pressed close tog
ether, their conversation too low for Sasha to eavesdrop.

  “You should tell me what you’re planning,” Sasha said in a light tone. “Since I’m the instructor.”

  They broke apart, and Sasha noticed Bridget’s sullenness had returned. It boded well for a productive session. Not.

  “Right.” She clapped her hands in a brisk manner. “We have an hour before my students arrive. Let’s make the most of it.”

  Bridget gave a clipped nod and increased the gap between her and Antonio. “Imagine I’ve opened the door dressed in a silk wrapper. I’ve said hello. We’ve greeted each other then we get to the business.”

  “How are we going to communicate the hello?” Antonio asked.

  A thought popped into Sasha’s mind. The unthinkable. “Would you consider…ah…kissing each other on the lips?” As soon as she uttered the words, she wished them unsaid. Bridget and Antonio kissing—the idea sent her stomach roiling and, for a horrible moment, she thought she might throw up.

  “Contestants don’t kiss. A kiss doesn’t translate to the audience.” Bridget’s superior tone said she didn’t think much of Sasha’s teaching. “Besides, what about spreading germs? I don’t want to risk catching the smooching virus. People die from that. Remember the epidemic of 2057. Hundreds of thousands died.”

  The woman lived in the middle of San Francisco, a city full of smog and pollution, and she worried about catching germs via mouth? They had inoculations available and disease flare-ups were rare these days. Sasha’s gaze dropped to Antonio’s mouth. Memories of his lips moving against hers sent excitement rather than horror surging through her veins.

  “I suppose it would be a point of difference,” he said with clear doubt.

  Sasha suppressed a snort. Where the heck was their desire to win? The other competitors in Sex Idol would go all out and she was stuck with these two numbskulls. Most of her students reacted with enthusiasm to her ideas. They didn’t reject them out of hand.