Afterwards, he swept her up to bed and made love to her slowly and thoroughly, mapping her body for all the places where she best liked to be touched. And the ways she liked to be touched and kissed there.
Fierce kisses on the side of the neck while he was fucking her sent her into orbit!
‘I must be into vampires.’ Jess touched her fingertips to a spot close to where her neck met her shoulder. It was tender. ‘Have you marked me?’
Ellis sat up and leant in close. ‘A little bit. You might have to put a bit of makeup on that at work.’ He kissed it again, exquisitely gently this time, stroking the little reddened place with his tongue. ‘Or you could take a few days off on the sick. Nobody’s going to dare sack you or discipline you now, you know.’
‘I do know. I get some very funny looks around the place at Windsor now. Both from bosses and other employees. I’m sure they’re all dying with curiosity, desperate to know whether anything happened as a result of that performance of yours in the office.’
‘I’m sorry,’ said Ellis with a shamefaced grin, ‘I was terrible, wasn’t I?’
‘Not terrible,’ countered Jess, sitting up, and automatically tweaking the sheet over her breasts. It still seemed weird to be in a bed with a man. ‘But certainly noteworthy. Things like that don’t normally happen at Windsor. In fact I think they probably don’t happen in most insurance company buildings. Except in films …’
Ellis was looking at the sheet. Jess shrugged and let it drop. His smile widened, yet somehow, it wasn’t a desiring leer, more a satisfaction that she was relaxing her inhibitions when they weren’t making love, as well as when they were.
‘Believe me, it is the first time I’ve done something like that in a business or workplace environment. I like to drop in on acquisitions, and surprise the management teams. But I’ve never hijacked a woman before …’ His eyes lowered a moment, as if veiling a thought from far away, another life, perhaps. ‘Although I once swept Julie out of a very, very posh party so I could make love to her. Not long after we first went to bed.’ Ah, she’d been right … the ghost of Julie was always with him. The woman he’d loved so deeply. The wife he probably still loved as much as when she’d been alive.
‘I hope she told you off for being imperious.’ Jess was surprised at her own words. She hoped she’d not spoken out of turn, but somehow she was almost coming to know Julie, through Ellis, and to feel a kinship with her. She was relieved though, when he smiled broadly.
‘She did. In that respect she was much like you. She didn’t take any shit from me, I can tell you.’
Jess didn’t know what to say at that, but suddenly, with a flourish, Ellis threw the sheet aside. ‘We left your drawing book down in the kitchen. I’d like to see some of the other work in it. I think I’ll go and fetch it. Can I get you anything while I’m down there? Something to eat? Or drink? A glass of wine?’
She’d not wanted alcohol earlier, but now, a glass of something not too strong would go down nicely. ‘Mm … yes. I wouldn’t mind some wine.’
‘White? Red? Rosé? Champagne?’
‘What? You’ve got rosé? I didn’t think wealthy sophisticates approved of pink plonk for the masses.’
Ellis laughed, reaching for his robe and shrugging into it. What a shame to cover such a body up, but hey. ‘I might have plenty of money, but I’m no sophisticate, Jess my sweet. I’m a total philistine, really. Much to my mother’s chagrin.’ He strode to the door. ‘Rosé it is … and some nibbles. Making love to you makes me really hungry.’ He winked at her. ‘Back in a trice, baby!’
Jess took the opportunity of Ellis’s kitchen raid to dash to the bathroom and freshen up. Like the kitchen, the master bathroom was modern and beautifully appointed. The major rooms that had been restored so far were more in keeping with the house’s Queen Anne history, but clearly some rooms were entirely new in the renovation. In front of the big mirror, she studied her reflection, looking for more differences, more signs of her new eroticised state.
You just look the same … only a bit more so.
She was still herself, but somehow ever so slightly larger than life, as if some of Ellis’s special charisma had flowed into her via osmosis when they’d been joined. Or maybe it was her own specialness? And sex had made it flower?
On the shelf in front of her, she studied Ellis’s toiletries. Cologne, shaving lotion, something called ‘skin and stubble balm’; all with a white label as if they’d been specially blended and formulated for him. Only the best for Mr McKenna.
At the end of the shelf, in a space he’d obviously cleared for her, bless him, she’d placed her own bits and pieces. Because to her great surprise, he’d invited her to share his bedroom. To sleep with him. All night.
‘Um … are you sure?’ she’d asked. ‘I was assuming you didn’t actually sleep with your conquests. I thought that was something you … well … would only have done with your wife?’
He blinked, looking at her, clearly surprised. ‘To be honest, I’ve never actually brought a woman here before. I’ve invited lovers to my London pad, and to various hotels, but never here.’ He gave her a wide grin. ‘You’re the first.’
But not the last … probably.
That thought, now, cast her down a bit. But she gave herself a stern inner shaking. The rules of this arrangement must never be forgotten. She could allow herself to be fond of him – hell, she couldn’t stop herself, she was already infatuated at least – but possessive thoughts, and ‘forever’ thoughts were forbidden.
He isn’t Mr Right. He’s Mr Handsome, Mr Rich, Mr Generous and Mr Sex, but that’s it. And that’s good. That’s the deal.
Shaking her head, she fluffed up her hair, attempting to dispel her disquieting detour and focus on the now.
Yet she couldn’t. Not entirely. It was too late. She wouldn’t allow herself to say the words. Or even think them.
But picturing Ellis in her mind – his eyes and his smile, and every wonderful thing about him – the twist in her heart said everything the forbidden word couldn’t.
He was waiting for her when she emerged, flipping through her Moleskine. A bottle of wine stood in a cooler on the bedside table at his side, and he’d already poured two glasses.
‘Are all these hands and eyes and ears and mouths mine then?’ he enquired, passing her wine to her.
‘Yes, I must admit they are. You’re pretty much my muse at the moment. Hence your unexpected appearance at my life class.’ She took a sip of the rosé. Ooh, it was nice. A girly wine, but Ellis seemed to be enjoying it too. She didn’t have many other men of her acquaintance, but the few she did have would have pulled a face at pink wine.
He grinned, almost radiantly. ‘I’ve never been a muse. I rather like the idea. It makes me feel really valued.’
Jess frowned. ‘Don’t you feel valued because of the work you do?’
‘Pah! Just pushing money around … anybody can do that. But being a “muse”, now that must be rare.’
‘I guess it is. I’ve never really had a regular one before. Apart from an actor in a vampire show once. I drew him a lot at the time. He was a blond though. Not a bit like you, but hot all the same.’
‘Do you have any pictures of him?’
‘Oh no … well, yes, I do. But a lot of my framed stuff and my art materials are in storage, with my gran’s old belongings.’ She frowned again, realising how she’d let her art aspirations lapse in recent years. Circumstances and all that, but still. ‘I’ve not done as much as I should recently. It was difficult to work on anything big when I was looking after Gran, and afterwards it just seemed like too much of an effort to start with paints or pastels and the easel and the whole shebang. I just drew in notebooks to keep my hand in, and signed up for the occasional class, now and again.’
‘You shouldn’t let it lapse, but I can understand why. I used to do all sorts of things before Julie’s death, family activities mostly … but since then, it’s mainly been work, a bit of exercising, and reading and watching television. Pathetic, really.’
‘And the occasional woman,’ Jess pointed out.
‘Yes, the occasional woman.’ He grinned.
So, I’m just a part of one of his ‘hobbies’.
‘A self-indulgence?’
He had the grace to look shamefaced. ‘Yes, you could say that. Sounds a bit despicable, doesn’t it? As if I treat women as a disposable commodity.’
It did. A bit. Yet there were extenuating circumstances.
‘We all have to do what we have to do to get by.’
He gave her a long, considering look. ‘We do. I’ll drink to that.’ He leant across and clinked his glass to hers.
The rosé was delectable, fresh and sweet and fruity. Very, very cool. It wasn’t strong, but suddenly she wished it was, a bit.
‘And you, how do you get by? I … I feel that’s what you’re doing, Jess, getting by. Instead of living life to the full.’
He was right, so right, but the truth hit hard. She’d been marking time so long she’d almost come to accept that as the norm. Waiting for Mr Right. Waiting and hoping that her gran would get better, even long after she’d known that was impossible. And afterwards left with a void where all that waiting and hoping had been. To her horror, tears threatened, but she fought them, taking a deep swig of her wine. No way did she want Ellis to feel sorry for her. It was demeaning, and she wanted to keep things light, and fun for both of them. Focus on the sex weekend.
Her glass was empty and, wordlessly, Ellis reached out with the bottle and topped her up. There was sympathy on his face, but more than that, almost as if he understood the complexity of her feelings, the mirror of his own.
Gah, no getting away from it.
‘Yeah, yeah, yeah … okay, so I am marking time. I have been for months … years … I suppose I’ve just got into the habit of hiding from life.’ The tears welled up again, and this time she couldn’t quell them. ‘How pathetic is that?’
Blinking, she sipped more wine, staring at the shimmering pink. But after a moment, Ellis reached out and took the glass from her, and a moment later, he put a box of tissues within hand’s reach, the same kind he’d given her when they’d first met. Then, he shuffled across and put his arm around her, easing them together back against the pillows.
Oh hell, don’t blubber, you silly sod!
Jess crammed half a box of Kleenex against her face. She tried to sit up. She wanted to create distance between the beautiful, glamorous man at her side, and herself, the snivelling, spluttering, unattractive wreck. But Ellis wouldn’t allow it. He increased his cradling hold on her, wrapping both arms around her, and raising one hand to stroke her hair and encourage her to bury her face in his towelling-clad shoulder.
Oh God, it felt so good. She needed this! She had Cathy and other friends that she talked to. She spoke on the phone with Mel, her sister, often. Mel visited whenever she could, so it wasn’t as if she was without people in her life.
But none of that was the same as the simple comfort of arms around her, the hugs she’d lost when the woman who’d brought her up had died.
Alas, though, the relief of being held only freed the floodgates of long held-in weeping. Grabbing on to Ellis with one arm, and blotting her face continually with her free hand, Jess surrendered herself to it. If being a weeping ninny temporarily dissolved whatever attractiveness she’d had for him, so be it. Ellis wasn’t shallow, and he knew pain himself. She’d never imagined she’d release emotion like this with any man, not even the eventual Mr Right, but with Ellis McKenna, it seemed okay.
After a moment, as the storm began to abate, it dawned on her that Ellis was talking quietly to her, his voice gentle and soothing. Most of his discourse seemed to consist of ‘hush’ and ‘it’ll be all right’ and ‘let it all out’, and other variations on that theme, but even though it made her feel slightly like a hysterical child or a panicking pet or something, she relished the warm, nurtured feeling it gave her. An educational sex weekend was all well and good, but there was a lot to be said for a bit of good, old-fashioned TLC too.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said at last, when her voice came out normally instead of accompanied by hiccups. ‘You must think I’m a total idiot and about as sexy and seductive as a floor mop.’
‘You’re a strong, compassionate woman with real feelings. I’m honoured that you’d open up to me. I prefer that. I prefer honesty and a real person rather than someone who brushes the deep stuff aside and just acts like a sex kitten all the time.’ He reached out and smoothed her hair out of her eyes. ‘You’re beautiful on every level, Jess Lockhart, believe me.’
‘What, even with red eyes and a red nose?’ She managed a smile. She couldn’t help it. The sheer glow of him would lift the lowest of spirits, even if she thought he was probably bullshitting her a bit.
‘Even then.’ He gathered up some of the tissues and tossed them in the general direction of the waste bin by the bedside table. Most of them went on the floor, but he seemed not to notice. ‘And believe me, Jess, I do know how you feel and I respect those feelings. You lost someone you love, just as much as I’ve lost Julie and Annie and Lily.’ He pursed his lips, as if fighting emotions of his own.
Wondering if the two losses were comparable, Jess still nodded.
‘Thank you, Ellis. Thank you for being a very decent man.’ She paused, aware that she’d stirred up his own grief for him. ‘I didn’t mean to come here and remind you of … of what you’ve lost too. Some kind of fun sexy companion to distract you from all that, aren’t I? This is supposed to be an erotic education weekend, not my misery-fest.’
‘There’s plenty of time yet. And we’ve got to pace ourselves, haven’t we?’ His beautiful eyes twinkled. ‘It’s quality not quantity that’s preferable, I think … Don’t you?’
But it’s all quality with you.
She didn’t say it, but nodded in agreement. ‘Quite right, Mr Sex. Especially for a novice like me. In the novels they go at it hammer and tongs for hours on end. It’s a wonder the heroines can walk sometimes, the amount of action they’ve had.’
Ellis laughed softly. ‘I’d rather have you in a fit state to appreciate my mad sex skills, Ms Lockhart, than gratuitously over-fucked, just to slake my appetites. And right now, I think it would be nice to get some sleep, and refresh our batteries for a deliciously sensual and educational day tomorrow, eh?’
Surprisingly, she did feel sleepy all of a sudden. ‘Good idea. But are you sure you want me here? I don’t mind sleeping in a guest room or whatever, if you need your space.’
‘I’m quite sure. Do you want a spot more wine, to help you sleep?’
‘No. Thanks. I’m good.’
But was she ‘good’? she wondered as they made their preparations for sleep. She’d shared a bed with him before, but somehow now, it seemed so much more intimate here. Back at home it’d been casual, almost accidental, but this was a conscious act of closeness.
And as strange as it was wonderful to a person who’d never shared her bed with anyone ever in her life … except this man.
Yet when she tried to sleep, frustratingly, it wouldn’t come.
Perhaps it was the strangeness of another body in the bed, even though Ellis was not a duvet hog, an over-hugger or a spreader-outer. In fact he slept still and neatly, on his back, with one arm draped backwards over the pillow, like a male model posing for an Old Master. The curtains were open, and moonlight sliced across the room, illuminating him and adding to the sense of a work of art. Moving as covertly as she could, Jess eased up into a sitting position, so she could admire him, feast on his beauty.
Ellis’s handsome face was serene in sleep, and she experienced an almost overpowering urge to reach out and trace its contours with her fingertips. Even in the intense milky moonlight, there wasn’t quite enough light to set about drawing him, but she would have loved to attempt to capture him right at that moment.
He was the perfect subject. His tousled hair, his straight nose and full, sensual mouth framed in that demi-beard that always felt so strangely soft … even when it had brushed her inner thighs when he’d given her head. She’d always believed that kissing and making love with a bearded man would be less than ideal. All that scritchy-scratchiness and stubble. But somehow, with Ellis, the sensation of whiskers only added to the deliciousness of every kiss.
A great sigh gusted through her. It wasn’t just his cute little beard, or his gorgeous eyes, or his superb body. It was far more than that which had dazzled and ensorcelled her in such a very short space of time. It was the man himself, his kindness, his strength and also his vulnerability.
She was obsessed now, she knew it, and more.
Oh, bloody hell. I love you, Ellis McKenna. It’s ridiculous, and I don’t know how it’s happened so fast. I knew I shouldn’t have let you get close. I should probably never have succumbed to you. Never have agreed to the sex education thing …
But inside, it had always been impossible to say no, and now she was in far too deep, hooked too firmly. And possibly forever.
Even if he asked to see her again – to extend their relationship to his customary three or four weeks – it would probably be a good idea to gently part from him after this weekend. It would only hurt more if she didn’t make the break as soon as possible. Right now, he was still mourning his wife, and might always mourn her. And even if, eventually, he got past the most painful stage of his grief, it might not be for a long, long time. It might be years before he was ready to even get close to love again … Years after his interlude with her was long over, long forgotten.
I know I’m not unworthy because I’m not rich or famous. I know I’ve got desirable qualities … and a lot to offer you … but you’re just not ready for me, Ellis, are you? Not yet.
Even though she was trying to keep still and not disturb him, she couldn’t contain another deep sigh.
I’ve arrived too soon in your life to be your second wife.
There. Now she’d said it, if only to herself. She’d barely known Ellis McKenna two weeks, and the parameters of their brief relationship had been clearly laid out from the very beginning …
Just as she’d always known would happen, she’d subconsciously recognised Mr Right the instant she’d first seen him. Fallen head over heels in love in the rain.
Slowly, carefully, she lay down again, closing her eyes but still seeing Ellis.
Mr Right, but Mr Emotionally Unattainable. The man I love who can never love me back.
Ellis sat up in the moonlight and looked down at the woman lying beside him. She was still as a mouse, a vision of breathtaking beauty in the silvery glow flooding in through the gauze curtains at the window. That image of a pure Madonna-like figure came to him again, but still, the tiny, barely discernible frown on her forehead told him she was probably actually awake, or only dozing in the same troubled, shallow sleep from which he’d just surfaced.
What’s wrong, Jess?
He almost said the words, then stalled. What if she said the words he subconsciously feared? The words he didn’t want to hear because he could never, ever reciprocate. Even the idea of reciprocating filled him with guilt. It would be a betrayal. Not Jess’s fault, just his.
You can’t give her anything meaningful, man. You’re empty of all that now. You gave it all to Julie. There’s nothing left for another woman on that score, even if she’s adorable. And you’ll only hurt her if you don’t disabuse her of any false hopes you’ve already given her.
And yet … and yet … he must have her for a little while longer. He was too greedy for her loveliness. A good man would sit Jess down for a firm but gentle chat tomorrow, and suggest that they part as lovers but remain solely friends from now on. He could still help. Still support her in her future goals. She had to stop working at his stupid insurance company because she was totally wasted in that world.
His spirits lifted. Yes, they could be friends. He could be her sponsor. Her own high principles meant she’d cruelly missed out on a formal art education, but he could give her that now. He could open doors for her. Make it possible for her to make a living using her God-given talents in a creative future that fulfilled her.
Oh, really, Mr Philanthropy? While your body is still howling for her other God-given talents?
Even now, with such ‘noble’ thoughts in his mind, he was getting a hard-on. Even knowing it was madness to continue this, his lizard-brain was chanting fuck, fuck, fuck.
As if she’d sensed his inner turmoil, she started to stir, and he almost smiled. She was trying to feign a natural rousing, when they both knew she’d been lying awake, turning things over in her mind, just as he’d been turning them over in his mind too.
‘Can’t you sleep, Jess?’
She blinked, and her eyes snapped open, brilliant with full awareness and no hint of sleepiness. In the moonlight, she gave him a nervous little grin that only increased her irresistibility. It was all unaffected, sweetly natural, but it only made him want her more, even though her delicious body was completely covered, right up to her chin.
‘I did sleep a bit … but I guess I’m just not used to being in bed with another person.’ The little frown pleated more deeply. ‘I like it, really I do, but it’s just different, you know?’
‘True. Very different.’ In an attempt to be altruistic, and do what was best for her, he said, ‘Would you prefer a bed of your own, Jess? You might be able to sleep then. I’ll go to one of the guest rooms, and leave you in peace.’
‘No!’ She reached out for him, her hand warm on his forearm as he sat up. ‘Don’t go. I’m sure I’ll be able to sleep.’ The act of reaching for him had caused the sheet to slip, revealing her breasts. Ellis’s cock lurched to hard, heavy stiffness just at the sight.
Good God, man, you’re an animal.
But he couldn’t help himself. He wanted her so much, and when she moved uneasily, she brushed against him and that made her smile.
‘That might help me sleep.’ Her grin was so sultry, so beguiling. Everything about her dazzled him, especially her deep, innate sensuality. Again, he exulted in being the first man to tap that vein of fundamental sexy womanliness, even though he was far from worthy of the gift.
‘It’d certainly help me sleep.’ He moved in again, pressing himself against her. Her body was warm, fragrant and cuddly. Cuddly but so desirable he could barely see straight. He wanted to enfold her in his arms, rock himself against her, touch her and pleasure her. ‘We should make love like spoons … that’s a nice, drowsy, easy way to do it in the middle of the night. Snuggly … not too athletic. Much more fun than hot chocolate for getting off to sleep.’
‘But I like hot chocolate.’
‘So do I, but I like shagging more.’ There were practicalities though. Momentarily he turned away, and plucked a condom from the nightstand. He’d tossed a few there earlier on, and there were still a couple left. ‘Hold that thought while I rubber up.’
He enrobed himself by touch, his lower body still beneath the bedclothes. It was easy. He was so massively stiff. ‘There, that’s better!’ He rolled in close again, throwing an arm around her hips, turning and drawing her to him, her sweet rounded bottom against his aching groin.
If you were a decent man, McKenna, this would be the last fuck. After tonight, you should back away from sex with her. Not let things get too complex. For her sake as much as yours.
He wasn’t sure he could do that. He had to have this weekend. The prospect of it was too exquisite to cut short … but when it was over he would attempt to make a clean, kind break with her, because it was the best thing for her. Now was now though and he had the most divinely seductive woman against him, her body warm and willing. He’d make it sweet and good for her tonight – even if that wicked lizard-brain was suddenly entertaining lurid notions about the firm lobes of her bottom, stroking it and maybe a little light spanking. More education to be imparted there, but probably not by him. Not if he were to do the right thing.
‘Now, let’s arrange ourselves, gorgeous. Tilt your hips and lift your thigh a bit … that’s it. That’s the right angle.’ Guiding her limbs into position, he poised himself at her entrance, and reached around and down to test her readiness. She was a slender woman, and she seemed to fit him perfectly. There was no awkwardness, no arm going to sleep; she seemed to know exactly how to conform herself to him.
And she was wet! Deliciously slippery. He’d been wondering about lube, because this was still all so new to her. But her body was totally prepared to receive him, silky and welcoming. With a further little tilt of her hips, she silently invited him to proceed. So, gripping her by the waist, he did just that.
Oh heaven … oh heaven … Jess’s sex was tight, but sublimely accommodating, letting him in but also gripping him at the same time, an inner caress.
‘Mm … that’s so good. You feel so good, Jess. So perfect.’ The words were banal, but the glorious sensations dissolved his vocabulary, almost stripped him of his mind, leaving only pure feeling and happiness, without the complications of emotional analysis and the inner whirl of right-wrong-right-wrong. Right here, right now was where they both should be, bodies joined, and to hell with tomorrow.
Sliding his hand around and between her thighs, he dived in with his fingers to stroke her folds and her clit. His touch made her moan and wriggle and contract herself around him and the way that felt on his cock made him clench his teeth, fighting for control. Hell, this was supposed to be gentle and lazy and easy and he was a wild man already. He blinked hard and grimaced, glad she couldn’t see him fighting not to thrust like a raving maniac and come straight away.
Focusing, he stroked her, loving the delicacy and responsiveness of the hot flesh beneath his fingers. There was a piquant pleasure in playing his fingers against her entrance too, where their bodies were joined, and his latex clad cock was buried in her. He dabbled there, and she reciprocated by massaging him. He could feel the tense and relax, tense and relax from both within and without.
Concentrate, you bastard, he told himself sternly. Concentrate on Jess and on giving her pleasure.
He returned his attention to her clitoris, rolling it and playing with it, swirling his fingertip around it as if it were a smooth, living jewel.
‘Oh yes, oh yes,’ she chanted, squirrelling her divine bottom against him, her nether cheeks against his belly, their shape inducing those tricky thoughts of putting her across his knee and playing other such tantalising games.
Cool it, idiot. Think of Jess, not your fucking self.
With his free arm tight around her, and his fingers moving rhythmically between her thighs, he jerked his hips in short, shallow thrusts. He didn’t need to be deep. The sensations were miraculous, and even more of a miracle was her high, sweet cry and the way her body began to clench and clench and clench around him as she came.
Knowing he could relax now, he released his guard … and thrust deep, coming gratefully with a long, heartfelt groan.
Here comes the rain again …
The next morning, it was teeming down, a heavier downfall than the one that had first brought them together, almost as if the heavens were conspiring to keep them sequestered in the house. In intimate proximity. With no semi-awkward thoughts about ‘going for walks’ and getting out and taking some other exercise, they had the perfect excuse for staying in and making love.
The perfect excuse for making the best of our limited time before we part.
But it wasn’t all sex and, despite her concerns, Jess was astonished again and again to discover how easy and companionable it was to be around Ellis out of bed. He didn’t make her feel as if she had to be ‘on’ all the time, or make constant conversation. Over breakfast they read the papers together, making only occasional commentary, as if they’d been sharing their coffee and croissants all their lives.
‘You don’t really live very much like a billionaire at all, do you?’ She looked around the kitchen. It was beautifully restored and had every modern appliance tastefully integrated, but the fact that they were in it, alone, having prepared their own breakfast, only attested to his modest way of living. ‘I mean, Windermere Hall is lovely, but it’s not huge and dripping with gold fittings and wall to wall bling, is it? And you’ve no vast armies of lackeys at your beck and call either.’ She appraised him, too, currently dressed in his robe. ‘And most of the time, you don’t really dress like a high-flying businessman either, do you?’
Sitting opposite her, Ellis poured two large breakfast cups of coffee. He might not ever really look or act the billionaire part, but he still took her breath away. Just the triangle of lightly tanned flesh in the neckline of his dressing gown was getting her going.
‘Oh, I’ve got those battalions of PAs and lackeys a plenty on the business side, and staff who come in to muck out after me both here and at my London place, but I haven’t really led the wealthy life all that much since I was a child, in my parents’ world. After university, I pretty much grew out of that madness, and Julie preferred the simple life too, even though her family are almost as rich as mine.’ He frowned as he set aside the cafetière. Was the brew too weak or too strong, or was it painful memories that made his smooth brow crumple? ‘We had homes in both Australia and America, in fact several … but they were … are … quite modest places compared to the sorts of pads our families have in those countries.’
He edged her cup towards her, and when she added milk, it was the perfect colour. ‘So, where do your parents live at the moment?’ While talking about his wife wasn’t entirely a no-go area, it did seem to make him melancholy, so a change or slight shift of subject was in order.
‘My father mainly lives in the States, where the primary power base of McKenna International is, and my mother lives in Australia. They’re divorced, but thankfully, everything’s very amicable between them. In fact they’re still good friends. My mum has always had her own money too, so there was never any fighting over the settlement and she still retains some McKenna shares.’ He sipped his own coffee and shrugged, then added a dash more milk.
‘But you don’t live in either country. So do you ever see them? Surely you must if you’re running parts of the business empire or whatever.’
‘They both have houses in London and in Scotland and elsewhere … I’ve lost track. I’m mainly based in London because I oversee European operations, so I visit them and we spend time together when they’re in this country. Oh, and a great-aunt of mine owns a medium-sized Caribbean island, so sometimes various bits and pieces of the family go there for holidays.’
‘Neutral ground for you?’
He nodded. Then heaved a sigh.
‘Maybe I should take you there for one of your educational weekends?’ Somehow, the enthusiasm had gone out of his voice.
‘Ah, I see …’ Jess didn’t quite, but she could guess.
‘I can’t hide anything from you, can I? And yes, you’re right, that was where Julie and I spent our honeymoon.’
‘I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have reminded you.’
He reached for her hand. ‘Don’t be sorry. The hang-ups are mine. You don’t have to dance around anything to do with what’s happened to me.’ He took the hand he held, and conveyed it to his lips for a quick kiss. ‘In fact, I probably should start revisiting places. I mean it … about the educational weekend on Augusta’s island.’
‘Oh, I don’t know … What would your family think? How would you explain me?’
He squeezed her hand and released it, then pushed the plate of croissants to her. Carbs to calm the nerves. ‘Don’t worry, I’ve never considered that I have to explain myself or my friends or my life to any of them … And Aunt Augusta is a decent old bird. She doesn’t really leave her bedroom all that much anyway because of her health issues. I have a shack of my own and my own beach there too, so we’d have total privacy, or we could mingle if you prefer, if anyone else is visiting.’
He was obviously just talking for the sake of talking. He’d never want to take another woman to his honeymoon hideaway.
Jess nibbled a piece of her croissant. ‘You mean a shack like this shack?’ She gestured around her at the fine kitchen, and the lovely Queen Anne house beyond.
‘Well Blue Breezes is actually quite shack-like. In fact it’s very small and rustic … But it does have all the amenities, water and electricity and so on.’
‘It sounds idyllic.’
It did. She could imagine spending a weekend like this, just the two of them, enjoying each other’s company, and each other’s bodies, but under blue skies and alongside a long white beach, lapped by a warm sea. Perfect romance.
‘It is,’ said Ellis, ‘you’d love it. I’ll fix something up for us if I can get away soon … and you can tear yourself away from the joys of insurance for a few days.’
‘Deal,’ said Jess, as they returned to their companionable perusal of the newspapers.
It won’t happen. By the time you can get away, we’ll probably no longer be together.
With an inner shrug, she pushed away that sobering thought.
Later, they lazed beside the indoor pool together, Ellis either reading reports of some business thing or other that Jess didn’t enquire about, or working on his laptop, while she sketched and sketched and sketched in a free and inspired way that she hadn’t achieved in a long time. For a while she’d been aware that her art was sometimes tighter and more constrained than it should be, but now that sense of constriction was totally gone.
It’s you. You’ve set me free, she silently told the subject of most of these liberated new efforts. Not just in sex, but everything else. I can’t believe it.
Most of the drawings she did were of Ellis, but she also tried a few little ‘impressions’ of the beautiful, airy, conservatory-like room and one or two small still lives. The tray with the jolly red teapot and their teacups; a potted palm, its fronds leaning gracefully over the tiles; Ellis’s robe thrown over the back of his lounger-chair while he swam. She wished she’d brought her pastels and had had time to dig her easel and her watercolour paraphernalia out of storage, but that was probably straying a bit too far from the main purpose of the weekend.
Later in the morning, towards lunchtime, Ellis suggested that Jess have a swim too.
‘But I haven’t brought a costume.’ It wasn’t really a protest. There was no need to worry about stripping off now, not for the man who’d already seen her body, and deemed it beautiful. She wanted to get naked with Ellis at every opportunity. He’d made her love her own skin, and that was amazing.
‘And your problem is?’ Grinning, he stood up, shucked off his trunks, and kicked them aside.
‘Nothing.’ Jess answered his smile as she unfastened her cotton blouse. In a couple of moments, it and her jeans and her underwear had joined Ellis’s swimming trunks, abandoned.
They swam for a while, lapping together. Jess had a shrewd idea that he was probably halving his pace so she could keep up with him though, and eventually, he paused in the deep end, drew her to him, and kissed her hard. He was fully erect and, embracing, they slipped and slid against each other, the water like warm silk around them.
Eventually, when Ellis drew away from her, he said, ‘So, are you ready for lunch … or something else?’ His eyes were like dark stars, and the expression in them made as clear as his rampant flesh did what appetite he planned on satisfying first.
The pool-side tiles were hard but Ellis made a bed for them of towels and lounger cushions and robes, then drew her down upon it. The pocket of one of those robes yielded a most convenient condom.
‘Have you ever done a self-portrait?’ he asked as she settled down upon him, her sex yielding to his cock as if that too was something that had been occurring easily and naturally for months and months.
‘Not really … I’ve thought about it … Oh God,’ she gasped as he reached forward and spread his hand across the dip of her groin, slipping his thumb into her cleft and settling on her clit.
‘You should. I’d love a portrait of you.’
‘But I’d have to use a mirror. It’d be reversed …’ His caress made her shudder with exquisite sensation, even as the seed of interest, in a work of self-portraiture, took root.
‘You’ll look just as beautiful. You can try it in the big mirror, up in the bedroom … Later.’ His thumb circled, circled and pressed. ‘Now, come for me, Jess. Come for me now. I want to hear you moan.’
It was so easy to comply. It was happening almost before he said it. Her happy cry rang out, resounding and echoing off the surface of the water.
Later, Jess emerged from the bathroom, drying her hair, to find Ellis sitting in his bathrobe, on the ottoman at the foot of the bed, with her big sketchbook on his lap. He had a pencil in his hand, and was glancing intently from the surface of the paper, to the free-standing pier glass, which he’d moved from its place in the corner of the room right into the centre, a few feet from where he sat.
‘What’s this? Decided to have a crack at sketching?’ Jess crossed the room to him, only to discover the paper was blank.
‘I would like to learn, one day, but I was hoping you’d do that self-portrait for me.’ Setting aside the sketch pad, he rose from his place, and made a sweeping, mock-courtly gesture, inviting her to sit down.
‘I’m not sure I can …’ How could she explain to him that it was probably one of the greatest challenges? Unless you were a total artistic genius, that was, and though she knew her own talent, she wasn’t quite that amazing.
‘Oh, you can. You can do anything, Jess.’ He gave her a sultry smile, quirking his wicked eyebrows at her. ‘Just look at all the other things you’ve learnt to do in the last week or so. You’ve discovered mad skills you never knew you had … from a standing start.’
‘Well, that’s easy … Like falling off a log.’ She grinned at the echo of their exchange, that first night.
‘Especially when you fall divinely off that log and onto my cock.’
‘So refined, Mr McKenna.’
‘But you have a rare natural talent for both drawing and sex, Ms Lockhart. It would be a shame not to leverage both those gifts to the full.’ He glanced at the pristine, and yes, very tempting sheet of paper. ‘Just give the self-portrait a try … Just for me.’
Why not? It would be an intriguing challenge. And somehow, she wasn’t afraid to fail in front of Ellis. She’d always been very conscious of the times she didn’t get something quite right before, especially at art class, but this strange yet wonderful man simply wasn’t judgemental. She could trust him.
Really?
Really.
‘Okay, I’ll give it a shot, but I’m not promising any masterpieces, and I’ll probably have to do a few preparatory sketches and finish the whole thing at some later time … when there’s not quite as much distraction.’ She winked at him, and prepared to sit down.
‘Uh oh … that’s not quite what I wanted.’ Ellis nodded towards her, and it dawned on her that he was indicating the thick fluffy robe.
‘I can’t sit here starkers and draw myself!’
‘Of course you can. What difference does it make? It’s a warm room …’ He moved closer to her, and reached to cup her face, dipping in for a quick but fierce kiss. ‘And I know how much you like taking your clothes off for me, don’t deny it.’
True. She’d stripped off and swum naked. Why not draw naked too? The heat in Ellis’s eyes only stoked that new-found urge of hers to show off for him.
‘Well, this’ll be a first. Life drawing myself.’ She tugged open the cord of her robe and then eased the loose garment off, first one arm then the other, leaving it pooled around her.
‘I should hope it’s a first!’ Ellis exclaimed, laughing. ‘Unless it’s half and half posing and sketching at this class of yours.’
‘No, I just draw. That hall is cold. I don’t know how the models put up with it.’ It was true, and goose-bumps were very tricky to capture with charcoal.
The drawing pad felt very odd against her naked thighs, and the sight of herself in the mirror made her want to giggle as much as anything, even though the way Ellis was devouring her with his eyes was provoking other sensations too.
‘Don’t watch me! This is tricky enough as it is. Can’t you read the paper or something?’
‘You’re a cruel woman, Jess Lockhart. You sit there looking like temptation incarnate and you want me to read the paper?’ He was grinning though.
‘Well, the self-portrait is your idea, mister.’
‘Fair enough … I’ll try not to make you nervous.’ Reaching for his tablet from the bedside table, Ellis threw himself on the bed very theatrically and began to flick through pages. ‘See, not looking!’
How long would that last? Not very, Jess suspected, but she set to work.
The task wasn’t quite as difficult as she’d anticipated. It was just a case of laying down the basic forms, like any other life drawing. Ovals, rounded corner rectangles, circles. Lines measured by sight, using her pencil. The figure would not recognisably be her for quite some time, and she suspected that to get it something like, she’d have to spend several sessions on it. Especially as she couldn’t quite concentrate on it in the way she usually did.
Despite his protestations to the contrary, she knew Ellis was watching her. She could feel his scrutiny flowing over her like a heated wave. If she’d been using coloured pencils, there would have been a lot of pink involved for the flush on her cheeks and her throat and shoulders. And tints of rose and brown on her fiercely puckered nipples. Weirdly enough, as she began to fill in more detail of the curves of her breasts, and their dark, sensitive tips, the more and more puckered and more sensitive they became.
And as her nipples ached to be touched, so did her sex. Who would have thought life drawing could be so erotic? Usually, despite the nakedness of the subject, it was an ironically chaste and sexless activity.
‘Can I look?’ said Ellis after a while.
‘You’re looking already, Mr McKenna. Don’t think I don’t know that.’
‘Busted. But you didn’t really think I could keep my eyes off you, did you?’ Rising from the bed, he came to sit beside her on the ottoman, looking over her shoulder at the sketch pad on her lap.
‘It’s very good.’
‘It’s only rudimentary … It needs a lot more work.’
‘Still, it looks like you.’
‘But the face is a just an oval blob!’
Ellis leant forward, looking closer, and she could feel his hot breath on her arm, and her breast. ‘But it’s a very lovely blob, and besides that, you’ve captured your gorgeous breasts perfectly.’ He reached out, and she thought he was going to touch the paper, but instead, he changed direction at the last instant, and cupped her breast, his thumb lying against her nipple.
Jess’s lashes fluttered down, and she leant into the contact, shimmying, the pad on her knee and the pencil clasped in her fingers forgotten. There was only the reality of Ellis and his touch.
‘No, you should look,’ he said in her ear, breaking away to take the drawing materials from her and setting them aside on the bed. ‘Look at your subject. Really look.’
‘You sound like my art tutor.’ Her eyes snapped open, and she looked at the reflection in the mirror. Ellis certainly didn’t look the least bit like Mrs Mulgrew, the patient, long-suffering teacher of the Intermediate Life Class.
‘Do I look like him?’
‘Not in the slightest. She’s a woman in her sixties who wears kaftans and has a crew-cut.’
‘So no one I need to be jealous over, then?’
Are you jealous? I thought you wanted me to be ready for lovers … after you?
She pushed the thought away. It was easily done, feeling the firm stroke of Ellis’s thumb against her aching nipple, and seeing it, in the mirror.
‘No,’ she said, feeling awareness of anything but Ellis, in this room, go floating away. He was sitting up close now and he slid his free arm right around her, to cup her other breast.
‘Lift your arms, clasp your hands at the back of your head and bring your elbows in tight.’ Now there was a similarity to her art tutor. He was specifying the pose. She obeyed him and he cupped one breast hard, and played with the nipple of the other, rolling it and pinching it. ‘Keep looking. Keep looking.’
The most exciting view. A beautiful man, toying with the breasts of a beautiful woman. A wanton woman, who rocked where she sat, excitement gathering in her belly and her cleft. A woman whose face and neck and chest were rosy with arousal.
Her attention skittered sideways, to the huge bulge in Ellis’s dressing gown. He leant in and pressed his face against the side of hers, then mouthed her ear, nipping it. ‘Naughty, naughty …’
Her, or him? It didn’t matter. He nibbled and kissed, and pinched and rolled, and then, without warning, released her.
Only to shimmy his way out of his robe, so they were both revealed.
Jess didn’t know where to look now: at the reflection of Ellis’s cock, or at the beast itself, almost touching her hip. Catching his eye in the mirror, she shuffled closer so it was pressing against her. When it twitched, she licked her lips, and he growled.
‘You’re a she-devil, Ms Lockhart. The sexiest, most seductive piece of work I’ve had the pleasure of in a long time.’
Was that true? He must have his choice of women, even given the fact he only did short-term ‘arrangements’. But he made her feel seductive. Provocative. He made her feel she could do anything and say anything.
‘Touch me, Ellis. Touch my pussy.’
His ocean-green eyes flashed, and against her, his flesh surged.
‘Gladly.’ Still cradling a breast, he slid his hand down her flank and across her belly, diving in to obey her. His hand was nimble and tanned, and the tendons tightened and relaxed, tightened and relaxed as he began to work her.
Oh, that was so delicious. Jess arched her back, and tilted her hips, to give him better access, and ride his fingers.
‘More. Harder,’ she commanded, her voice taut. He obeyed, fulfilling the urge for the vigorous handling that filled her.
Sensation gathered, and she swayed, digging her fingers into her own tousled hair, and rolling her shoulders. The pleasure gathered and wound around the spot where Ellis was rubbing her, but still she wanted more.
‘Put your fingers inside me. Put two inside.’
‘Hell yes,’ he said, his voice ragged in her ear. In the mirror she watched the way he crooked his wrist to obey her. His fingers were narrow and elegant, but they felt huge as he pushed them into her slippery channel. She dropped a hand herself, to slide in beneath his so she could massage her clit while he flexed the fingers inside her, stretching her opening, and stimulated the sensitive nerve endings there.
‘Yes. Yes. That’s good.’ She sat down, pushing his intrusion deeper.
‘Fucking hell. It’s amazing!’ he agreed, laughter in the way he said it, and pride too. Awe, even, she realised vaguely.
She rubbed herself harder, gripping his fingertips, squeezing them. Then she didn’t have to work to do it, as the sharp, grabbing rhythm of her body took over as she climaxed. The expression on her own face was too raw to look at, so she clamped her eyes shut as she panted and gasped her way through the fierce, sudden orgasm.
After a few moments, she slumped against him, his fingers still inside her, slippery with her silky arousal.
‘You’re wonderful, Jess,’ he told her softly. ‘I liked that … You taking charge. I like to be the boss as much in the bedroom as in the boardroom, but sometimes, there’s something thrilling about being told what to do by the right woman.’
‘I like telling you … I wouldn’t want to do it all the time. It’s hard work being in charge. But for a change, yes … it’s exciting.’
And it was! Ellis was a fantasy figure of power and alpha manhood. Having him at her disposal was like an aphrodisiac spirit flooding through her veins, making her voracious for him. She’d come, but she wanted more, more, more.
When she snapped open her eyes again, she saw she wasn’t the only one. In the mirror, Ellis’s handsome face was an icon of desire, his eyes black with lust, and lower down, his cock stood out like a club, thick and rosy and shiny at the tip with pre-come fluid.
‘That’s what you do to me.’ Dipping in, he kissed her neck, and she caressed his thick, dark hair. She slid her hand across and enclosed his shaft, almost stunned by the heat and the rock-like hardness.
‘I want this now.’ She gave him a squeeze. ‘I want it in me … as far as it’ll go.’
How long was it since she’d been a virgin? It seemed like a century of ravishing passion since then. She looked the same, but in every way that counted, she knew she was unrecognisable.
Ellis’s smile was sultry, saturnine. She squeezed him again and he gritted his teeth, laughing.
‘And you shall have it, madam.’ He was looking at her in the mirror, at her eyes, then, his gazed dropped to her hand around him. ‘Can you draw that?’
It was Jess’s turn to laugh. ‘Not right now. I think my concentration is shot. It’d be a scribble.’ She waggled her eyebrows at him. ‘A very big scribble, but a scribble all the same.’
‘But what about some other time? Later? From memory … like the way you’re going to finish that portrait off for me?’
She drew from memory. Could she? Of course she could. But that would be one she’d never be able to take to life class to show her fellow artists.
‘No, not for public consumption. Just for ourselves. A memento.’
For just an instant, a dark cloud scudded across the day. Yes, soon this would all be past, and drawn mementoes, and memories, would be all she still had of him.
Jess shook her head, making her hair fly in both their faces. None of that now. No negativity. Enjoy the moment. There was plenty to enjoy!
‘I could try,’ she said, ‘but it’d be very distracting. I might have to keep handling the real thing to refresh my memory!’
‘I’m sure that could be arranged.’ Ellis reached to brush her hair from across his face, kissing a hank of it as he did so. ‘Now, do you think we could fuck? I’d really like to watch that too, but we might have to move the mirror around.’
New heat flooded through Jess’s body. She wanted him. She wanted to see him in her. Something else to draw later, perhaps? An action study …
When she released him, Ellis rose to his feet, and walked to the mirror. ‘Tell me when you think it’s in the right place.’ He pushed it on its castors until it was at right angles to the ottoman they’d been sitting on.
Somehow he’d managed to get the positioning and the angle perfect. When she glanced to the side, there she was, centre stage, sitting on the ottoman, a study. Woman waiting to be fucked. As Ellis crossed to the bedside drawer and retrieved some condoms, she printed the arrangement of flesh and the setting in her mind. Then she became part of a different composition as he moved into the frame to join her, elegant and sleek as a classical statue, yet also raw and lewd with his rampant erection rearing up, pointing high from his body.
Tossing the condoms onto the seat beside her, Ellis moved in front of her, as if to display his cock to her. His mouth curved in a devilish smile as he took himself in hand and rubbed his flesh against her bosom, anointing her with his silvery pre-come. Without having to think, Jess cupped her breasts, making an inviting channel around him. She looked down at his marvellous shaft nestled there, but in her mind she could see the outrageously erotic reflection in the mirror. Him looming over her, his heavy reddened erection against her paler skin.
‘God, that’s wonderful!’ Resting his hand on her shoulder, he rocked back and forth, thrusting between the pressed together curves, his cock slippery and hot, rubbing against her. The sensation in this was mostly for him, but still it excited her madly. Her loins ached, her nipples so tightly erect they were almost stinging.
‘I’m selfish, aren’t I?’ he said, still moving. Jess glanced to the side, but not at her body. It was Ellis’s thrown back head that caught her gaze. The taut look of pleasure on his face, his gritted teeth, his wild dark hair.
He was gorgeous, and she wanted him. Wanted him in her. When he turned to the mirror, and their eyes met, a message seemed to pass between them and he said, ‘Yes … yes … let’s fuck.’
Withdrawing from the niche she’d made for him, he slid his hands beneath her armpits and drew her up, giving her a long kiss on the mouth that also managed to be a full body kiss too, when he pressed the full length of his chest and torso against her. His cock was like a brand of iron against her thigh, his tongue just as hot in her mouth.
‘Kneel on the ottoman,’ he commanded when they broke apart. ‘Hold onto the bedrail … so I can handle you. Part your legs.’
Shudders of anticipation coursed through Jess’s body. They seemed to begin at the very crown of her head and raced right down to her toes, in waves of heat. But she assumed the position in the most graceful way she could, still not watching the mirror, but disposing the arrangement of her limbs in her mind, framing the image again … for later.
‘Dear God, Jess, you’re incredible.’ Ellis’s hand settled on her back, flat and with his fingers spread, and he stood there for a moment as if he were sampling her somehow, tasting some discreet essence with his fingertips. Then, setting a knee between hers and one hand on the rail, he reached to slide his other hand around and underneath her ribcage, to cup her breast, squeezing it as he pressed his cock against the curve of her bottom.
Jess stole a look at their reflection, at the shapes they made, the colours. Ellis’s tan was light, but gilded, and her own body was creamier. His hair was like dark silk, and hers perhaps a shade or two lighter. Her nipple was dark brown against the side of his thumb. His wedding ring glinted, reminding her, reminding her …
What would it be like if there was no wedding ring, no lost and beloved wife and children? If Ellis were truly free, truly available to her.
You probably wouldn’t be here, fool. He wouldn’t be diverting himself with brief and temporary sexual flings, and he wouldn’t have looked twice at you.
Ellis thrust himself closer against her, and in the mirror, his eyes blazed, compelling her attention. ‘Jess, don’t go away from me like that. You’re beautiful and I want you, believe that.’ His left hand moved tantalisingly on her breast, and then, after one last possessive squeeze, he slid it down over her midriff and then her belly, to cup her crotch.
Tightening her grip on the rail, she closed her eyes, giving herself up to his divine touch, and letting it expel all angst and maverick thoughts from her mind. Now was all that existed. All that mattered. She might never have had this beauty … it should be celebrated, only celebrated.
Pushing back against him, she used her entire body to caress him as he caressed her. She let her head fall back against his neck and her hair trail over his shoulder, moaning as the pads of his fingertips played magic games against her clit. Opening her eyes, she cast a sideways glance back at the mirror, desire surging as she did so, fired by the sight of themselves, rubbing and rocking against each other, impressions in cream and gold skin, and hair richly dark. Excitement, and gathering orgasm placed a hazy filter across their adjacent forms. They were shapes, patterns of lust and need, almost abstract now as her lashes fluttered, and her sex fluttered, and her thoughts fluttered too, losing coherence as she soared into climax.
She stiffened against him, arching; her long lashes flickering as her eyes almost rolled up. Against his fingers, he felt the beat, beat, beat of her flesh, pulsing in orgasm, and in his ear, her wild, repeating, heavy gasps, marking each beat. The sounds were music to him, though he doubted she was even aware that she was uttering them.
God, I was so lucky to find you, virgin-goddess. You’re perfect, Jess, a wonderful woman and made for love and sex.
And for true companionship.
As her crisis subsided, he slid his arms around her to support her, shocked by the thought that was occurring to him again and again. Jess was sharply intelligent, and funny, and great to be with, as well as a supreme natural lover. He caressed her more gently, cradled her more closely, as if that might in some small way compensate her for what he couldn’t give her. What, in another world, he would have happily wanted to give her, but in this one, he couldn’t.
He could only enjoy this jewel for a limited time, before he had to set her free to find some man who could give her everything and who was worthy of her. It wouldn’t be long, now that she herself was empowered and ready to look for that man, and at least he himself could take some small solace in the fact that his selfish lust had enabled her to find her shine as a fully sexual being.
In the mirror, her body was a gorgeous sight, sleek and flawless. In his hold, the heat and vibrancy of her was a jolt to his senses, tasking his ability to keep his cock in check. He had to have her. She had to have him. Fucking was simple, pleasure unalloyed, closeness without the moral and philosophical complications of his life, filled with the emotions of fondness and respect that could be enjoyed, even by him.
‘You’re not looking in the mirror,’ he said, rubbing his face against her hair. ‘You look divine. You should see yourself.’
‘I look like a shaking wreck with a red face and my hair all over the place,’ she said huskily, but when he flicked her hair out of her face, and she twisted round to look at him, she was smiling.
‘That’s a great look on you.’
‘Idiot,’ she said, adjusting her position.
‘Idiot with a massive erection,’ he countered. ‘I really need to do something about this thing.’ He rubbed himself against her again, and she reciprocated, swirling her hips and making him groan.
‘Yes, it is rather monumental, isn’t it? I guess I need to oblige you then.’ Her voice was pert, and when she craned around again, her eyes were sultry. She even winked at him. God, she was ready to go again, sublimely voracious.
‘I’d be grateful.’ He kissed the back of her neck again, and reached over for a condom, ripping open the package. He was conscious of her watching the procedure as he rolled it onto himself, then adjusted their positions. Grabbing her by the hips, he helped her to kneel right up so he could gain access to her, then he stood against the edge of the ottoman, between her thighs.
Yes. Exactly right now. Her cleft was so hot against the tip of his cock, through the latex. The moment of anticipation was heart-stopping. He almost wanted to freeze time and stay there, even though he knew that the entry into her, and the glorious thrust and pull, thrust and pull of sex would be even more sublime.
‘Please … don’t tease me. I want you,’ she whispered, more command than plea. She was so in charge, and he loved that. Complying, he pushed right in, the sensations almost lifting the top of his head off.
Heat. Enclosure, tight yet also yielding. Perfection. His inner greedy sex pig yowled at him to just go for it and fuck, fuck, fuck, and come, come, come in seconds. But the sophisticated man who took pride in pleasing a woman slowed him down. He pushed in a little deeper, and settled there, still, enjoying another miraculous frozen moment.
Turning to the mirror, he admired their conjunction, and the way his body was pressed against hers, both of them finely trembling. Jess had both her arms braced as she held onto the bedrail, and he was taking his weight on just one hand now, bending right over her.
Watching the progress of the other hand over her hip and around, and feeling the shape of her, and the slide of her perspiring skin beneath his touch, he sought out her centre once again.
He heard her gasp, and saw her rosy mouth open as he found her clit. Her teeth were clenched, in agonised ecstasy, as he rubbed her. As if knowing he was watching so closely, her eyes snapped open then, meeting his gaze in the mirror. Her pupils were black with lust, and she rocked and circled her hips as he pleasured her, causing delicious havoc where he was lodged, his cock deep inside her.
‘Yes, yes, yes,’ he chanted as her reflection licked her lips like a wanton. She was gripping him with her sex, matching each word with a clench of her inner muscles. He rubbed her more firmly, trying to make a pattern of it, swirling and slipping around in her delicious silkiness. She was so wet, so miraculously wet, so hot and welcoming that in his eyes tears almost formed.
He was conscious that even as he was trying to hold back, amazingly, she was too. ‘Sweetheart … you don’t have to wait,’ he purred in her ear, tearing his attention from the mirror-glass and inclining over her. ‘Take your pleasure now, Jess. Take it. You can never have it too much, or too often for me. It’s a woman’s prize to come again and again. Claim it. Claim it now. It’s your right!’
‘All right! I will!’ She was laughing again, half out of it, then moaning and gasping. Her body stiffened, and stiffened again, and she cursed a blue stream as she climaxed around him, clenching and gripping hard, while her hold on the bedrail rapidly destabilised.
Ellis braced for them both, using his greater strength. The way her orgasming channel embraced him sent heat howling through his body, circling around him like an unstoppable wind, then barrelling back towards his balls and his cock. He wanted to hold on, to take her higher, and do it again, but his control was wavering, dissolving.
‘Your turn. You now,’ she hissed out, through her tightly clamped teeth, ‘come now, you devil!’
Still so strong! So sure of what she wanted. Her body was barely beyond its virgin state, but she was a confident lover and seductress, bred in the bone.
‘Yes … Oh God …’ They were going to collapse in a heap though, when he lost control. So he summoned his last ounce of self-possession, and somehow, he knew not quite how, he took a quick tight grip on Jess, swung their bodies around together … and ended up sitting down on the ottoman, with her on his lap, and his cock deep inside her.
‘I feel as if I should give you marks for that move … Nine point five at least,’ said Jess, laughing, her flushed chest heaving.
‘Cheeky witch! Just touch yourself!’ he commanded, watching her in the mirror as she obeyed, while he grabbed her hips for purchase and thrust up, up, up inside her, deeper than before.
The sight was orgiastic, dazzling, animal yet beautiful as she caressed herself to pleasure again around his jerking, spurting cock.
Then all went white, and they both slumped back. Their blended voices laughed and sobbed in sweet release.