Who Wants to Be a Sex Goddess? by Gemma Bruce

overtime.
    Her finger slipped into his navel and he groaned into her mouth.
    A shudder passed over her and he felt her smile beneath his lips.
    Her fingertips dipped into the waistband of his kilt. He sucked in his stomach and her fingers slipped another inch.
    He pulled one hand from her ass and dragged it to her breast, lightly brushing the curve of it through the layers of her shirt and gown. Then she touched the tip of his erection through his jockstrap. His fingers closed over the lush roundness of her. She arched back, pushing her breast into his hand. Now, if he could just lose the shirt and the jockstrap without breaking the mood, everything would be perfect.
    And if neither of them thought about what they were doing, they might actually—
    Through the fog of his lust, he heard voices. Distant but coming closer. The movie must be over. Damn.
    He crowded Ariadne until she took a step backward. Then another while he kept assaulting her mouth with his tongue. He fumbled behind her and found the door handle. Pulled it open. It hit her in the back, and she fell into him with an expulsion of breath. Not of surprise, he realized, but laughter.
    Ms. Mouse was full of surprises. He pushed her inside, letting the screen door slam. Then released her long enough to shut the wooden door. When he turned back to her, she was standing where he’d left her. Her hair had fallen from the braid. Her cheeks were flushed pink against her pale skin. Her eyes were heavy and she looked good enough to ravish.
    She reached past him and turned off the lights. And in the sudden darkness, the fragrance of jasmine surrounded them.
    â€œAre you sure about this?” He wasn’t sure she knew what she was getting into. But she couldn’t be a virgin. It was the twenty-first century. There were no virgins.
    â€œYes.” Her voice was husky, not at all like the prim Ms. Mouse he’d escorted to this room barely twenty-four hours ago.
    She came willingly. Really willingly. She rubbed against him and he was instantly on fire again. She was snuggled into him and he was having a hard time thinking. He just knew that he wanted her.
    He pulled the straps of her gown over her shoulders. Started on the buttons of her tailored shirt. Smiling as he thought how ridiculous she was to try to conceal what was obviously a dynamite body.
    The voices were closer now, but he was barely paying attention to them. Thank God Ariadne had turned out the light. Her attempt at modesty might just save them from being interrupted.
    He undid another button, felt warm flesh against his fingers, and couldn’t resist sliding his hand through the opening to feel her breast without the layers of clothes.
    The voices stopped. Then he heard footsteps coming across the porch.
    He froze.
    â€œWhat?”
    He pulled Ariadne into him and held her immobile, while he tugged up the front of the gown, fumbling with the straps until they were back over her shoulders. He brushed her hair out of her eyes, no easy feat in the dark. Just in case. With any luck, whoever it was would go away, and he and Ariadne could take up where they’d left off.
    There was a knock on the door.
    Ariadne jumped. “What was that?” She twisted around, but Dillon held on.
    â€œShh. Someone’s knocking on your door.”
    She moved closer to him.
    â€œAriadne?”
    â€œMaybe she’s not in.”
    â€œOf course she’s here. We just saw the lights go out.” A louder knock. “Ariadne, hon. We just saw your lights go out, so we know you aren’t asleep. Come out and party.”
    â€œMaybe she’s tired. Come on, Jeannie. Don’t be a nuisance.”
    â€œMe? It’s time that girl had some fun, and she’s not gonna have it sitting by herself in her cabin all night. And just where is her slave, I’d like to know?”
    The screen door squeaked. The doorknob rattled.
    Ariadne pushed away from Dillon and got to the door, just as it