She wrapped her arms around his neck and one of her fingers caught in the gold chain that held the icon. This game of hot kisses and new touches was so delicious she couldn't get enough of it. His body was hers to explore, and she yearned to see every inch of it.

"I want to take off your towel," she whispered.

His fingers sank into her hair.

She reached for the knot, only to have him press his hand over hers. "Not so fast, sweetheart. First you've got to show me something."

"What do you want to see?"

"I'll let you choose."

"In this costume, I think I've already shown off just about everything I have."

"Maybe I want a closer look."

She'd known sex could be exciting, but she hadn't expected the sensuous teasing note in his voice. It flashed through her mind that perhaps she should confess that she was a virgin, but then he'd think she was a freak. And he'd never know if she didn't tell him. Contrary to romantic fiction, fragile maidenheads didn't survive twenty-six years of physical activity and doctors' exams.

Tilting back her head, she watched his eyes roam over her as she stood before him in her showgirl's costume, and she found the idea of playing the experienced femme fatale infinitely exciting. She'd read lots of books, so maybe she could even pull it off. What could she do that was naughty?

She turned her back to him, trying to give herself a moment to think, and in the process saw that the limp blue curtains hanging on the small window just above the kitchen table weren't closed all the way. She doubted anyone would be passing by in the rain, but just in case, she hurried over. Bracing one hand on the Formica top, she leaned across the table to close them.

She heard a muffled sound behind her, almost like a groan. "Good choice, sweetheart."

She had no idea what he was talking about until she felt him come up behind her and rub against her out-thrust bottom. He massaged the flesh through its diamond-shaped veil of fishnet. Her nipples tightened and her skin grew flushed at the unfamiliar sensation. At the same time, her nervousness escalated. No matter what she wanted him to believe, she had no experience with ordinary lovemaking, let alone anything exotic.

One of his fingertips slipped beneath the strip of sequins and traced the cleft of her bottom. She bit her lips to keep from crying out with pleasure. His touch crept lower.

Unable to take any more, she wiggled upright and turned in his arms. "I-I want to kiss again."

He groaned. "Your kisses are a little more than I can handle right now." He adjusted the knot at his belly, and she saw that the towel no longer lay flat against him. As a matter of fact, it wasn't even close to being flat.

She stared and her mouth felt dry. "I st-still want to kiss."

"We'll negotiate. You open up the hook on the back of that costume, and we'll kiss all you want."

She reluctantly raised her eyes from the towel and lifted her arms to unfasten the hook. As it opened, the bodice began to fall away. She clasped it to her chest.

He ducked his head, brushed her lips, and took one of her wrists in each of his hands. As his tongue slipped into her mouth, the costume fell to her waist. He backed her against the wall on the far side of the table, drew her wrists upward, and pinioned them on each side of her head.

"Not fair," she whispered into his mouth as he held her against the wall. "You're stronger than I am."

"It's my turn to play," he whispered back.

And play he did.

Keeping her wrists gently pinioned, he used only his mouth to excite her. He nibbled at her earlobe and the side of her neck. He nipped at her collarbone and the base of her throat. But then he drew back just far enough to be able to gaze down at her body.

Her position against the wall had tipped up the crests of her breasts. He toyed with first one, then the other, suckling until the pool of heat inside her burned so fiercely she could hardly bear it.

"Stop," she gasped. "Let me go."

He immediately released her wrists. "Am I hurting you?"

"No, but-you're going too fast."

"Too fast?" He regarded her with a crooked smile. "Are you criticizing my technique?"

"Oh, no. Your technique is wonderful." The words came from her in a rush, too earnest, too eager, and he smiled. Embarrassed, she avoided meeting his eyes by staring at his mouth. Then she realized that if she were to make love with this fierce, proud man, she had to meet his strength with her own.

Lifting her head, she met his gaze. "I don't want you to take over yet. Maybe later, but not yet."

"Is this your way of telling me you want to direct the action for a while?"

She nodded. Even though she was nervous, she wouldn't let anything prevent her from investigating the wonderful mysteries hidden beneath that towel.

"One condition, angel." He hooked the edge of her costume where it lay at her waist "It's just going to be you and those tights. Everything else comes off."

She swallowed. The tights had no panty built into them. They were sheer from waistband to toe, and the diamond-pattern was too loosely woven to hide anything.

He raised one eyebrow in challenge, then released her and sat down on the end of his bed. "I want to watch you undress."

This was getting very very naughty. She cleared her throat and spoke as casually as she could. "Do you mean right here? With the lights on and everything?" naughty. She cleared her throat and spoke as casually as she could. "Do you mean right here? With the lights on and everything?"

"You're stalling. Peel it down real slow."

She gathered her courage, determined to keep up with him. "You understand, don't you, that your towel's coming off next?"

"One thing at a time."

She slowly slipped the costume over her hips, leaning forward as she lowered it to hide her nudity from him. The costume dropped to her ankles. She brushed a spec of lint from the top of her foot, inspected the wear in the carpet, listened to the rain tap on the trailer's roof.

"Oh, no, you don't." He chuckled. "Straighten up. And leave that costume right there on the floor."

The smoky undertone in his voice nearly undid her. Her hands trembled as she did as he said.

"Beautiful," he whispered, as she stood before him, naked except for the frail black showgirl's tights that enhanced, rather than concealed, the lower part of her body.

She decided the time had come to test him. "Lie back on the bed," she said softly.

He hesitated for only a moment before he stretched out on his side and propped himself on one elbow. "Like this?"

"Oh, no. That won't do at all. On your back, please."

To her delight, he did as she said. He also propped his head up on two pillows so he wouldn't miss anything.

She licked her lips, not quite certain she could pull this off, but determined to give it her best. "Now raise your hands until they're touching the wall. And, Alex, I want you to keep them there."

He gave her a lazy smile that turned her bones to water. "Are you sure about this?"

"Very sure."

He did as she said, making her exceptionally proud of herself. She approached him. His eyes burned on her breasts and belly in a way that made her feel more naked in the tights than she would have without them. By the time she reached the bed, every part of her body tingled with excitement and anticipation. For a moment the thought of the whips stored just underneath them intruded, but she pushed it away.

She gazed down at him lying with his arms in mock bondage. Her captive. As long as he stayed as he was, every part of his body was hers to explore, including the imposing mound that destroyed the smooth surface of the towel. She drew her eyes away and sat on the edge of the bed.

"Remember what I said," she whispered. "You have to keep your hands where they are. You can't move them."

"If you open your legs just a little bit, sweetheart, I'll be as cooperative as I know how."

Fair was fair, she decided, and she eased her thighs apart. He gazed at what she had revealed. His right arm twitched, as if he were getting ready to move it, but then he relaxed.

She lowered her head and began tasting him again, nibbling near the bottom curve of his rib cage. His flesh was firm and tightly muscled. She slid her hands over his chest, enjoying the texture of hair and skin gone moist. She couldn't resist those brown nipples and ran her lips across them, making him writhe beneath her. Reaching up, she clasped his biceps and squeezed. Her thumbs discovered the pulsing veins that ran beneath his skin. She traced them downward and found her way to the soft hair in his armpits. As she dallied there, goose bumps broke out over his damp skin, and he made an inarticulate noise deep in his throat. Slowly lifting her head, she met his eyes.

"I'm going to take off your towel."

"Are you now?"

The raw desire in his eyes reminded her she was playing with fire. But she had no intention of turning back, and she moved her hands to the top of the towel. With one smooth motion, she opened it and spread it apart.

"Oh..." He was magnificent. She extended her hand and touched him tentatively with the tip of her finger. He nearly leaped off the bed, and she snatched back her hand.

Her gaze flew to his face. It was contorted as if he were in pain. "Did I hurt you?"

"You've got sixty seconds," he croaked, "and then I'm moving my arms."

A thrill of pleasure shot through her as she realized this was all part of the game. "Not till I give you permission," she said sternly.

"Fifty seconds," he replied.

She hurried to touch him again, letting her curious fingertips roam along every inch, caressing here and there. She nudged his thighs open a few inches and found more places to touch.

"Twenty seconds," he groaned.

"Stop counting so fast."

He chuckled and moaned at the same time, making her smile. But then her smile faded. After all of these years, how was her small body supposed to accommodate something like this? As she closed her hand around him, it occurred to her that her own internal parts could very well have atrophied from lack of use. She moved her hand.

"That's it!"

Without warning, she found herself flipped to her back with his weight pressing down on her. "I think it's time you got a little of your own medicine, sweetheart. Assume the position."

"What do you mean?"

"Hands against the wall."

She gulped and thought of the whips. Maybe her plan to play the femme fatale had worked too well. He believed her far more experienced than she was.

"Alex?"

"We're not talking till I see that you know how to follow orders."

She slowly raised her arms to the pillow.

"I told you to touch the wall."

She did as she was ordered, and she'd never felt more defenseless or more aroused. As her knuckles brushed the thin paneling behind her she was overcome by an unsettling combination of uneasiness and a deep sensual hunger. She wanted to beg him to be gentle with her. At the same time, she wanted him to love her with all his might.

She lay like a bound captive beneath his gaze. Somehow the fact that there were no true restraints holding her in place didn't make her position of subjugation any less real. He was so much stronger than she, so much more powerful, that he could do whatever he wished, regardless of whether or not she agreed. A prickle of alarm ruffled the edges of her arousal only to fade as he ran the tip of his finger across her stomach, back and forth over the fishnet until she wanted to scream. He moved lower, touching the patch of curls.

"Open up, sweetheart."

She did as he said, but apparently he wasn't satisfied with her effort because he caught her thighs and separated them farther.

The tights were no barrier, and she suddenly felt too open, too vulnerable. She began to moved her hands away from the wall.

"Don't even think about it," he whispered, his touch gliding over what she had revealed.

She moaned and lay back to feel him parting her with his thumbs through the moist diamond web. He dipped his head. She cried out, and her fists banged against the wall as he touched her with his mouth, caressed her through the net. A low, strangled sound of pleasure caught in her throat. She felt the net stretched taut across her, its webbing pressing deeply into her softness.

His shoulders splayed her knees and he held her breasts beneath the palms of his hands as he loved her. The rain thrummed on the metal womb that encompassed them both, and her own womb quivered in response to what was happening. As her senses swirled, she felt the vibration of thunder passing through the wall into her hands and traveling down into every nerve of her body. Her back arched, and she gave herself up to him in a shattering climax.

He held her through the aftershocks. Only when she recovered did she become aware of a strange tugging between her legs. She didn't understand what he had done until he settled over her and she experienced that long awaited stretching at the very entrance to her body.

"You've torn a hole in my tights," she murmured foolishly, slipping her arms around his shoulders and reveling in the feel of his weight pressing her into the mattress.

He brushed his lips over her temples. "I'll buy you a new pair. I swear." He gave a gentle push.

And went nowhere.

She stiffened. Her worst fears had been realized. She'd atrophied from so many years of being unused.

He drew back a little and smiled down at her, but she could feel the tension in his body and knew he was on the verge of losing control.

"I thought you were ready, but I guess I haven't been thorough enough." He shifted his weight ever so slightly and began caressing her.

Within moments, his voice seemed to come to her from a great distance. "You're so tight, sweetheart. It's been a while for you, hasn't it?"

She sank her nails into his shoulders. "It's-yes. I might have-" she gasped as new sensations spiraled inside her "-closed up a bit."

He groaned and repositioned his body. "Then let's open you back up." With that, he pressed home.

She cried out and arched to get away from him or to get closer, she didn't know which. Her body stung from the sweet, aching stretch. He grabbed her bottom and thrust more deeply. At the same time, his mouth covered hers, devouring her. His possession was fierce and strong, but the awful tension she felt in him told her he was still holding back. She didn't understand why until she heard his barely audible murmur.

"Let go, sweetheart. Let go."

She knew, then, that he was waiting for her, and those tender words sent her flying over the edge again.

When she came back, his skin was slick under her hands, his body taut with need. But he was a strong and generous lover.