The Bet by Lucinda Betts

They’d be alone. There’d be a bed.
    But she’d learned a lot about Phillip Kingdom in the last few hours, and some of those things surprised her. She’d thought he’d be arrogant. Instead he treated her kindly, respectfully. He’d opened doors for her that she’d thought had no keys, and he did it while leaving her spirit unbruised. No, she didn’t feel nervous. If she were honest with herself, she felt excited.
    Her put his arm around her, and pulled her in closer to him. “It’ll take a few minutes to get home. Why don’t you close your eyes?”
    Comfortable. Inhaling his masculine scent, she drifted to sleep.
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    In what seemed like a heartbeat later, they arrived at his brownstone. Groggily, she followed him up the steps. He unlocked the door, put the oil and butterfly on an end table and flicked on the light. He gently ushered her to the living room.
    â€œHere. Sit down. Are you hungry? Thirsty?”
    â€œNo. Sweaty. Stinky. I smell like cigarettes.”
    â€œThat last club was pretty thick.”
    â€œAnd I’m all . . . sticky.”
    He chuckled. “That’s not a bad thing. Wait here.”
    He disappeared into the kitchen, and this time, she noticed his décor. Maple floors. A thick wool rug with a Southwestern design. Stone fireplace. Nice.
    â€œThis place really captures your personality,” she said when he returned.
    â€œWhat do you mean?”
    â€œRugged. Masculine.”
    â€œI’m so rugged. Herbal tea?”
    She laughed as he handed her a steaming mug.
    â€œOh, that’s good,” she said, after a cautious taste. “We kind of went on the alcoholic tour of the city tonight.”
    â€œI think the booze was secondary. Or maybe tertiary.”
    â€œCan you spell that?”
    â€œNot with you sitting in front of me.”
    She ran her hand self-consciously through her hair.
    â€œNo, really. You look like a wild mountain pony.”
    She laughed, but his mood had intensified.
    â€œLean back, Zoe, and give me that ‘come hither’ look.”
    Still playful, she lounged into the corner of his sofa, half closed her eyes, and she licked her lips. “Like this?”
    â€œOh God yes, like that. Rachel Hunter. Not Heidi. Poor Heidi doesn’t hold a candle to you.”
    â€œOh please. She’s a supermodel.”
    â€œLet go of your knees.” She’d had her hands clasped in front of them, but she released them. Suspecting she knew where this was going, edgy excitement expanded in her belly.
    â€œPull up your dress, just a little. I want a peak.”
    She inched it up, swallowing her pride.
    â€œA little more.”
    She did.
    â€œYou are so beautiful. Spread your legs, just a little.”
    â€œThis is—”
    â€œBreathtaking. Spread them more.”
    She widened her knees a smidge.
    â€œZoe.” Disappointed.
    She opened them more. “Phillip—”
    â€œShh. How can you object? I’m not even touching you.”
    Her sex must have glistened with the slippery wetness since each command torpedoed her clit with excitement. She felt like she was under a magnifying glass—that he could see her entire self. Disconcerting as that was, her belly tightened further with desire.
    â€œLook me in the eye and stroke yourself. Show me how you like it.”
    â€œI don’t know what I like.”
    â€œThen discover it.”
    She reached down to touch the delicate vee of soft curls, and with her other hand, she spread her labia with two fingers.
    She heard him moan and moaned herself.
    Glide.
    Had she ever been this wet? Surely her clit had never been this swollen. Hot. Wet.
    She didn’t get far into her exploration. “I can’t stand it—I can’t keep my hands off you.” Phillip crossed the room in two great strides and buried his face between her legs. She gasped and quickly removed her hand, but he grasped it and mumbled,