Women in Lust by Rachel Kramer Bussel Page A

guy it’s named after was an asshole to his wife and wrote a really bad book.”
    “I didn’t know.” She let her hand slide down from his hair to his chest, and finally hooked a finger through one of his belt loops. He might ask for odd things, but that didn’t interfere with her desire to tear the rest of his clothes off and run her hands and her tongue all over his beautiful mocha skin. “So give me some idea of the scale here. Do you want a little nibble here and there or…”
    “Whatever you’re comfortable with.”
    “I was taking that for granted. I just want to know what you want so I can see if I’m comfortable with it.” She was starting to feel annoyed with him. If she was going to be a good sport and humor him, making it simple and explaining exactly what he wanted was the least he could do.
    “Anything short of permanent damage is all good. At least I think it is. I haven’t had much chance to find out.” He bit his lip.
    Lene suspected that he was wrong. She thought of three probable exceptions in as many seconds: Hundreds of paper cuts. Being stung by a Portuguese man o’ war. A bad hangover. “That’s awfully open ended. Don’t people usually spell it out
a little more?” She tugged on his belt loop and inched a little closer. She had a few specific ideas about what she wanted, at least.
    “I’m not people, and this isn’t usually. I don’t have a laundry list of kinks.”
    “This is surreal enough already, I’m not a telepath, and you’re being about as helpful as a hookah-smoking caterpillar.”
    His response was a flippant, “Bite me.”
    In a moment of pique, she actually did feel like hurting him, so she found the faint imprint of her teeth on the inside of his upper arm and bit fiercely. The visceral jolt inside her when he drew a short, sharp breath and tensed up startled her. His eyes were open when she looked up. “That good?” She halfway expected him to say no.
    He pulled her on top of him and wrapped her in a full-body hug. “Very,” he whispered. His skin was warm and soft against her cheek. He seemed so happy about her biting him that her irritation vanished like a snowflake in a mug of hot chocolate.
    “Okay. Let me try again.” She turned her head and nipped at his other arm. His hands pressed harder against her back and he squirmed under her. She clamped her teeth down slowly, taking time to taste his reaction and hers. At first, he relaxed a little bit and stroked her back, making little contented sounds, but gradually shifted to a more conventional response to pain. When he arched his back, squeezed her and tightened his throat to keep from yelling, a rush of elation poured into her body through the heart. It would have taken her breath away if he hadn’t already been squeezing her so hard she could barely breathe.
    When she let go, they both took a few seconds to catch up on oxygen. Lene wondered what neurotransmitters and hormones went into the experience. It felt too good to be straight-up epinephrine. She cut that train of thought off sharply, with a
promise to deconstruct later. “Curiouser and curiouser.”
    “Is that good?” he asked, with an audible smile. He slid his hands down her back to her bum and made sure she knew just how good it was for him by grinding against her.
    “Ah…yeah, I think so.” A few bites later, she was sure of it. Impulses to cover him with kisses or marks from her teeth whirled around her brain until she couldn’t tell one from the other. The guilt and pity that she’d been expecting never materialized. Feeling him struggle with himself to hold still for her and keep quiet made her hungrier. It was an irresistible dare, challenging her to break that control.
    Lene scooted down and found a place on his side under his rib cage that looked vulnerable. She nuzzled the spot and kissed it. He gripped her shoulder with nervous fingers. She chomped down with abandon. He yelped and threw her off the bed. She knocked over a