“Hersch . . .”

  “What?” Bam, bam, bam. Shit, was he ever going to come.

  “Shut up.”

  He could do that. In another minute, he’d lose the ability to speak, anyway. She was supposed to be the one on the verge of orgasm, and now he was totally going to lose control. Not fair. Why did it have to end so soon?

  Just when the last thread of his sanity threatened to shred apart, her gasps turned to cries and then rose in pitch. Bless her, she was going to come first. Sure enough, her grip on him tightened, and then her muscles went wild around his cock, from the head all the way to the base. She was milking him, and he responded with a climax that started in his balls and radiated out to claim his whole body. As his shout joined hers, he released his lust into her—coming and coming until he nearly blacked out from sheer sexual overload.

  He managed to hang on until it ended . . . finally. Resting his head on her shoulder, he dragged in air in gulps until he’d convinced himself that he could breathe again. She seemed to have as much trouble getting oxygen as he did, but eventually she let out a moan and a sigh. Though her orgasm had ended, her sex still grasped rhythmically around his. Proof, as if he’d needed it, that she’d come as powerfully as he had.

  After a bit, she unwrapped her legs from around him and lowered her feet to the floor. Now softening and happy, his cock slipped free from her. She slumped against the wall. “Oh, my God.”

  “Yeah.”

  “That was . . .” Her voice trailed off.

  “It certainly was.”

  She stared up at him out of dark eyes clouded with confusion. No wonder. Sex like that could scramble a brain even as sharp as hers. His own mind wasn’t feeling all that clear. He’d just had a major-league orgasm with Professor Gayle Richards. Up against a wall, for the love of God.

  “Are you okay?” he asked.

  “Didn’t I feel like I was okay?” she asked. “You were there. You must have noticed.”

  “I meant your back.”

  She lifted a shoulder and stretched. “I’ll live.”

  “I wouldn’t normally do things quite that way,” he said. “Beds are a whole lot more comfortable.”

  “And yet, this was much more informative.”

  Informative? Fast and dirty, yes. Hot and sweaty, sure. Over too soon, perhaps. But what did the woman mean by informative?

  “Yes.” She bit her lip for a moment as the wheels turned behind her eyes. “I may have to rethink my hypothesis in light of these data.”

  “What in hell are you talking about?”

  “My challenge, of course. For you to prove the male is the sexually superior creature.”

  “Didn’t I just do that?” Great, he was back to shouting.

  “Not at all.”

  “How can you say that? I just . . . and you . . . I was . . .” He gestured toward the wall as his words sputtered to a stop.

  “You were consumed with lust, mindless fucking machine that you are.” She crossed her arms, a perfectly ridiculous gesture that pushed her breasts up at him. “But you may have noticed that I came first.”

  “Of course you did. Any decent lover makes sure to satisfy his woman.” Damn her, she had to realize that.

  “Your woman?” Now she’d raised her voice, too. “What makes you think I’m your woman?”

  He dug his fingers into his hair. “Figure of speech.”

  “Well, I’ll leave you to figure it,” she said. “We’ll collect some more data tomorrow.”

  Nolan could only gape at her. He’d always thought her to be a sane member of the species homo sapiens. Had she been fooling him about that all this time? And what did “collect more data” mean? Was he supposed to screw her to the wall again?

  “Yes, tomorrow. You’d better get some sleep.” She left then. She didn’t even bother to stop long enough to pick up her clothes but went straight into her room and shut the door behind her. She wasn’t going to sleep with him or even invite him to sleep with her. Each of the bedrooms had two small beds. Not exactly luxurious, but one could hold two lovers if they were careful not to kick each other. She clearly didn’t see him as a lover if she wouldn’t share one of them, despite what they’d just done. He was a data generating machine. He ought to be offended, and as soon as he figured her out, he might be. For now, he headed to his own room. Alone.

  Chapter Three

  SHE’D FUCKED NOLAN HERSCH. She’d honestly gone and done it. If you got all technical about it, you might insist he’d been the one doing the fucking, pinning her to the wall like that. She’d put him up to it, though. Despite the kiss on their first night in the cabin, he’d had no intention of taking things any further. But she’d challenged him, and he’d taken her up on it. Boy howdy, had he.

  Now she lay here playing the whole thing over in her mind. She’d awakened in the middle of a dream of having sex with him, only to wake up and remember it had really happened. The pleasant ache in her pussy not only served as a reminder of the fact that they’d done the nasty but also as the reaction to having taken such a large cock into her so hard and so fast. Yes, the man was endowed, and he knew how to use the thing.

  She probably ought to feel ashamed of herself. After all, she didn’t proposition men every day. Actually, if she thought back right to the disastrous time she’d first allowed a man to “have his way” with her, she’d never asked anyone to shtup her, let alone dared him to do it. Discretion was the key in academia—you didn’t spread rumors, and you didn’t give anyone reason to spread rumors about you. You most especially didn’t order a colleague, and your main theoretical opponent at that, to prove he was a mindless fucking machine. You didn’t even use phrases like “mindless fucking machine.”

  And yet, the glow wouldn’t fade, the sensation that her skin was more alive than it had been twenty-four hours ago and that her heart beat in a stronger rhythm. That didn’t make any more sense than ordering him to fuck her had, but she wasn’t dealing with rationality here. He’d given her something—complete freedom to enjoy him any way she wanted. She had him all to herself for days. Days to work out her every frustration on him. Then she could simply walk away.

  Whatever they’d started here would end here. He wouldn’t want snickering among their colleagues any more than she did. In their small research community, rumors rebounded for years before something new came along to start tongues wagging. This was not an affair. This was a self-contained fucking and orgasm contest, and if he got any ideas, she’d set him straight ASAP. Her cabin, her grant, her rules.

  She might feel guilty about that if he hadn’t brought this on himself. He’d deliberately irritated her since the moment he’d arrived. He’d thought to use her anger to his advantage by getting her to stutter and stammer in the face of his impeccable logic, or what he thought was impeccable logic. Instead, his stupid male-obsessed outlook on the sex act had caught up with him. After she’d thrown down the gauntlet and he’d accepted, she really could make demands, and if he didn’t meet them, he lost the argument. Either way, she won. And she might as well start collecting her winnings right now.

  After tossing back the covers, she swung her legs over the side of the bed and sat up to give herself a long cat-stretch. The illuminated dial of the clock on the bedside table showed two thirty. Even a workaholic like Nolan Hersch would be asleep now. She could ambush him. If he couldn’t get it up again, he’d have to admit defeat. But if he could . . . yum.

  She rose, pulled her nightgown over her head to remove it, and went in search of her prey. She had to cross through the main living area of the cabin to get to his room, and she noticed out of the corner of her eye that the piles of the clothing they’d worn hours ago still lay where they’d fallen. With any luck, he slept in the nude. If he didn’t, she’d get him that way quickly.

  The bedroom doors didn’t have locks on them, so she opened his and slipped inside. It creaked a bit, but he didn’t move or make any sound except for the steady rhythm of his breathing. Sure enough, when she lifted the covers and slid in next to him, she encountered only flesh, all the way down to his butt, which was as firm and rounded as it had appeared beneath his slacks. What she didn’t expect was the softness of his skin. Like velvet. Yards and yards of velvet on a body of his size.

  He’d taken up the middle of the mattress, and she had to perch herself on one side to keep from falling off. With her hand on his shoulder, she burrowed her nose into the hairs at the nape of his neck. He had his own scent, kind of a combination of soap and spice with a masculine musk beneath. A prime breeding specimen, this one. When she wrapped her arm around him, he didn’t stir except to issue a little snort. Still not ready to give up her explorations of his body, she held perfectly still until he settled back into sleep. Now she could let her hand wander over his chest, memorizing the curve of his muscles with her palms. She’d felt their firmness against her breasts earlier. She hadn’t had a chance to circle a finger around his flat nipple, though, so she did it now.

  He did exactly what she would at the caress of a nipple—exactly what she had done, in fact, with this man, several times. He tensed, no doubt experiencing a jolt of pleasure like the many he’d given her. If she continued, he wouldn’t be able to stay asleep much longer, so she might as well get to the meat of things. As it were.

  Skimming her hand lower, she passed the flat plane of his belly. Did he come by this body naturally, or did he have to work at it? Everything came easy for him, so he probably ate what he wanted and did what he wanted and ended up buff, anyway. She ought to hate him for that, but then, she didn’t have to marry the man. She only needed to wear him out sexually.

  Finally, she arrived at her destination, his cock. It wasn’t completely flaccid. Hell, maybe he never got totally soft. That would explain his mistaken belief in the supremacy of the male libido. It was going to be fun to teach him a lesson or two. Or five or six or more.

  As she closed her fingers around his shaft and pumped gently, his member thickened and elongated. After a few seconds, she had him well on the way to full erection. He roused a bit more and let out a low groan.

  “Oh, yeah,” he whispered.

  “Enjoy.”

  “Hey.” His hand closed over hers, stopping her fingers. “What are you doing?”

  “That should be obvious. “She nipped his shoulder. “I’m collecting data.”

  “Gayle?”

  “Who else?”

  He rolled onto his back, nearly sending her flying over the edge of the bed. She hung on by clinging to him and throwing her leg over his. “Careful. I almost fell.”

  He rubbed a hand over his face. “Do you mean to say we really . . . I didn’t dream that?”

  “Not one second of it,” she said. “You had me up against the wall like the mindless fucking machine you are.”

  “I wish you’d stop using that phrase,” he said.

  “Okay, I’ll just call you my experimental subject.”

  He groaned again, but it didn’t sound like sexual arousal this time. “You can’t be serious about proving some hypothesis with me.”

  “Deadly serious. I’m going to shut your trap about your so-called theories once and for all.”

  “By fucking me morning, noon, and the middle of the night?”

  “Something like that.” She wrapped her fingers around his cock again. It hadn’t shrunk or softened one little bit. That part of him, at least, was definitely with the program.

  “And how do you plan to write up your results for the journals?” he said.

  “I won’t have to. Whenever you give a keynote address or read a paper somewhere, I’ll be there watching you and reminding you to tell the truth,” she said. “You may be an arrogant jerk, but you’re not dishonest.”

  “Thank you,” he said. “I think.”

  “Now, would you please lie back and let me continue the experiment?”

  “I didn’t agree to any of this,” he said.

  “You don’t have to. If you refuse, then your sexual appetites aren’t as strong as mine, because honestly, I’ve suddenly become a deranged, insatiable she-beast.” She paused for a while to let the implications of what she’d said sink in. “I win.”

  He didn’t say anything but crossed his arms over his chest. If he were fully clothed and standing in the middle of the living area, the gesture might have conveyed resolve not to surrender. The fact that he was naked in bed with an erect cock fairly pulsing against her palm kind of diluted the effect.

  “Your only hope of proving I’m wrong is to try to keep up with me sexually. Come on, Hersch, give it the old college try.”

  “Did you run this by the Committee for the Protection of Human Subjects?” he demanded.

  She sighed elaborately. “I’m through fooling around with you. If you won’t cooperate willingly, I have ways to make you do it.”

  In one motion, she tossed back the covers to give herself room to work. Though there wasn’t much light in the room—only starlight and what his own alarm clock put out—she didn’t have to find his erection by feel alone. Every bit as imposing as it had seemed earlier, it jutted away from his body. With the help of her fingers, of course. Giving him no warning, she bent and closed her mouth around the tip, swirling her tongue into the pucker on the end.

  “Holy shit,” he said. “Damn it, Gayle, do you really have to do that?”

  She could answer him, but that would involve using her mouth for something other than sucking on his cock, and right about now making it as hard and as big as she possibly could was more important than any verbal repartee that came to her. She had plans to climb onto this monster, plans that her own sex more than approved of. Already, moisture was collecting at the juncture of her thighs, and her clit ached to be touched and teased. Although the frantic action against the wall had stolen her breath and given her an orgasm she wouldn’t soon forget, this time she’d call the shots and get exactly what she wanted.

  Opening her throat, she took more of him. Not all. She could never have managed that. She sucked what she could, bobbing her head to swallow and withdraw. The rest of him she clutched in her fist. By all appearances, he was loving every minute as his fingers went into her hair and his hips rose and fell in a dance that would have only conclusion.

  “You do that . . . oh, man . . . well,” he said, his voice a rough whisper.

  The compliment spurred her on, and she reached between his legs to feather her fingertips over his sac. He went rigid, and he sucked air into his chest with a loud hiss.

  “You’d better stop. Now. Really,” he said.

  His tone convinced her. He wasn’t messing around, and if she didn’t do as he asked, the fun would end in a few seconds. She had more planned for him that a blow job. So she released him, rose to her knees, and swung a leg over him. This time, their hands met on his shaft as she held it with one hand and parted the lips of her pussy with the other.

  She lowered herself onto him slowly, feeling each inch of him enter her and savoring the passage of the head deep into her. The sense of fullness from before hadn’t been an illusion created by the exotic position. He really had possessed her totally, as he did right now. It was her turn to gasp in an effort to bring oxygen into her lungs. Never in her life had sex felt this good.

  When he grasped her hips and set the rhythm of thrust and pullback, she matched it with a rocking motion of her own. Together, they created a complex dance of in and out, back and forth. Each slide and parry sent a jolt against her clitoris, which was now thrumming with need. Demanding more. She could come this way, but with how much more intensity with direct stimulation to that sensitive organ?

  Reaching to where his sex entered hers, she dug her fingers into her curls and found her own distended flesh. When she rubbed it, she clenched her teeth to hold back an unfeminine grunt, but it escaped, anyway. So intense, so powerful. Almost too much.

  His hand replaced hers, brushing her fingers aside, and he used the same maddening pressure that had driven her to the brink before. Now she didn’t have to do anything but let him take control. She could simply sit astride him and let him push her and push her and push her. Placing her palms against him, she braced herself for the orgasm that would soon claim her. Oh, God, the rhythm. The heat, the hardness, the stroke of his finger against that one spot. She was going to fly apart, absolutely shatter into pieces.

  When the climax finally came, it rushed through her with the force of a tidal wave. Starting at the place where Hersch kept thrusting and where his finger kept working its magic, it radiated outward to every part of her, nearly stopping her heart and squeezing every bit of air out of her lungs. She couldn’t even cry out as the spasms started. His cock inside her was her anchor as her muscles kept gripping at him. For a moment, it seemed as if it would never end and that she’d die with him buried deep in her pussy. It finally did, though, and she floated down onto his chest with a whimper.

  Damn it all, he wasn’t supposed to be that good. A challenge among rivals wasn’t supposed to turn you into helpless, hopeless mush. In a minute, she could get control of her mind again. She’d figure out where things stood and how she could regain command of the situation. It didn’t help that he now cradled her in his arms and kissed the top of her head. He hadn’t even climaxed, had he? One squeeze of her inner muscles and his answering gasp said he hadn’t. So why was he acting so tender?

  “Hersch?” she whispered.

  “Hm?”

  “What are you doing?”

  “Letting you glow for a while,” he said. “That was one hell of a climax you just had.”

  “Am I lighting up the room? Because I sure feel as if I could.”

  “Not quite. We’ll have to work on that later,” he said.

  Later. A promise of more. She wouldn’t have to fight him every step of the way. He’d given in. Game on.