Water that was strong enough for Alessa to float on to hook her legs around his waist and wrap her arms around his neck, and for Hugo to tread water as he hugged her tight to him. The kisses were soft and slow, like drinking an expensive liqueur, with Alessa the perfect mix of sweetness and strength, leaving him heady. She pressed the vee of her legs against his hardness, perhaps seeking relief, and looked puzzled when he pushed her a little higher up his body. He reached out a hand and tugged the bow at her nape undone, letting the top of her costume fall free.
Now, he could lavish attention on her breasts. He hadn’t been able to, so far. His hands were occupied, squeezing her cheeks as he supported her. And no soft caresses—his firm pressure had her writhing against him, just as his mouth at her breast had her gasping and pressing deeper for him to tongue her nipple into a hard, tight nub. He’d hardly shaved that morning and his whiskers must have been scraping her silken skin. Not that Alessa seemed to object, instead pressing harder, forcing him to take more of her into his mouth.
He adored how quickly he turned her soft velvet into a furled ridge, reshaping it with first the flat then the tip of his tongue. When he nipped, tugging the nipple away from her areola, she moaned, and when he sucked, laving with his tongue at the same time, she raked her nails down the nape of his neck. He pulled his mouth free. Reluctantly.
“We’d better get out.” He helped her from the water and dried her, leaving the top of her swimsuit dangling. He wouldn’t hide those luscious breasts away. He pulled on a towelling robe. “Come up here. I’ve got something to show you.”
Their wet footprints left a side-by-side trail to the cushioned ledge situated up a short and shallow flight of marble steps. “Go and look,” he told her. “One thing…” He unzipped her costume, as he’d been longing to ever since he’d seen her in it, leaving her naked, adoring the flush to her skin he’d created by rubbing her dry. Her only adornment was the heart-shaped design on her mons, its apex pointing down, he realized, to her clit. Not that he needed directions. He turned her around to walk up the few steps to the nook set into the huge glass window, barely resisting reaching for her firm arse.
She paused. “But what if someone sees?”
“There’re no neighbours out that way, no one to see.” He firmed his voice. “And…if there were? The chance of someone watching?” Not that he’d ever let anyone see her like that, but she didn’t have to know. “Go on.”
She put her foot onto the first step and up to the space that was part sunbathing area, complete with lounger, for when there was sun, and one of his reading nooks, when he had time to relax. The room was warm, with the heating, and the alcove’s padded surface inviting. Following close behind her, he spread towels on its cushioned lounger.
“Oh, look at that view.” Alessa kneeled close to the glass, tilting her head to see beyond the meadow down to the brook. He was. And enjoying it too, taking her hands to lay her palms flat against the window. He nudged her legs farther apart and leaned into her, pressing her body against the cooler glass, dragging a hiss of reaction from her. He let her adjust for a few minutes, and when he touched her between her legs, she was as wet as he’d hoped, aroused by her submissive position, or her nakedness or vulnerability. He didn’t let her sink down onto her heels but kept her back straight, which kept her breast against the glass.
Hugo kept his hand still against her folds, and it was Alessa who moved, rubbing against his fingers where he held them between her spread legs. “I love how wet you get for me,” he breathed into her ear, watching her skin pebble into goosebumps. “It’s like honey.” He ignored her protest when he withdrew his hand, nudging her to make sure she watched his reflection in the glass, tasting her essence from his finger. He replaced his hand and Alessa shifted. Hugo allowed her to suck him in, just an inch.
“No. I want something else inside you.” He waited, but Alessa raised no protest. Her body tried to follow his when he moved back to shrug out of the robe—but not before slipping a condom out of the pocket. He rolled it on and rubbed his sheathed cock against her seam, coating himself in the fresh wetness his actions produced. “I’ve wanted to do this from the moment I saw you,” was the only warning he gave her, before kneeling behind her and thrusting hard inside her pussy, seating himself balls-deep in one swift, sharp movement.
Chapter Seven
Alessa cried out, and he stopped.
“Just…give me a second,” she panted.
“It’s been a while?” A throb that was too complicated to analyse panged through him.
She nodded. “And you’re bigger than any of my toys.” And with that, the minx began to move. Oh, no. Hugo held her still so he could fuck her hard and deep. She knew how he liked it and also knew how to bring a halt to their play, although, of course, he would stop at any sign of discomfort. There was none, if her gasps and hisses were any indication, of the way she tried to sink and rise, to meet him thrust for thrust.
Soon it wasn’t enough, and Hugo stood down a step, pulling Alessa down to her knees, her torso flat on the lounger and her pert arse raised for him, the position designed for deeper penetration. He couldn’t resist her perfect arse cheeks and delivered a stinging smack along with a savage thrust. Her fingers clutched at the towel spread under her and she stiffened, crying out, her pussy clenching at him.
He couldn’t believe she came so easily, so perfectly, and he stilled, riding the ripples her sheath gave around his cock. As her undulations slackened and died, he picked up the pace again, this time, spreading her legs slightly so the towelling under her rubbed at her engorged clit. Bending over her, he bit where her neck joined her shoulder, whispering encouragement and praise into her ear, and pressing her back down for the towelling to stimulate her nipples. He relished every exclamation torn from her as he pleasured and took his pleasure in her beautiful body.
Within minutes, her second climax approached. He knew her signs and tells already and got his fingers to her seam, stroking her clit to heighten the sensations storming her. He didn’t let up as she came, the contractions of her pussy stroking him to climax too, but kept up the pressure, plucking a third, smaller, orgasm from the throes of the second. And her climaxes prolonged his, milked him dry.
When he pulled out and laid her down, the wild-haired, scarlet-faced, pleasure-drowsy creature he’d turned her into entranced him. He disposed of the condom, wishing he’d had the foresight to have cold drinks waiting. They both needed to hydrate. He saw a half-full bottle of water he must have left there a few days previously and passed it to Alessa, unscrewing the top first. She almost snatched at it and took a gulp before handing it back.
“Well, that took the edge off,” he mused, lying down and pulling Alessa to him. “I seem to lose all my finesse with you. I do apologise.”
“Apol—” She shook her head. The movement pressed her to his chest, and she winced, shielding her breasts from his chest hair. “Sore nipples.”
They were still peaked, standing firm from her beautiful breasts, no doubt the result of being rubbed against the towel.
“But worth it. You’ve got some moves!” The smile she raised to him was brighter than any sun.
Grinning, he turned her onto her side, her back to him, and slid his hand down her side, to trace a finger around the heart design on her pubic bone, something that fascinated him. Alessa shivered, more so when he slipped his fingers lower, to play in her juices. “I wanted to wake you up like this this morning,” he confessed, rubbing his trying-to-rise-again cock into her backside and fingering her labia. “Stir your body to life, get it plump and wet for me, prepare you to take me.”
“Next time,” she promised, then froze. “I didn’t mean there has to be. I—”
“Next time.” Tomorrow morning, if he had his way. Then the day after that, and after that… He held her tight. Burying his face in her hair. Eventually he said, “Let’s get some food. I can’t say lunch or dinner, as I have no idea of the time.”
Aless
a moved, rolling to face him. “Do I have to move? It’s perfect here. Glorious view outside, and such a lovely light and sounds in here. But I am thirsty.”
“And we don’t want that volcano-erupting noise your stomach made earlier when you were hungry,” Hugo added. “How about I bring us a picnic?” He just hoped he had some suitable food in. In the kitchen, he found stuff that passed muster and brought it back, disregarding the ‘no food and drink in the pool area’ rule that was the subject of jokes from the Gentlemen group, as Piers, he supposed, had dubbed them.
Much later, covered in towels and his robe, cocooned in the warmth and softness of the room, they watched the snow-bright world outside darken to purple-grey then midnight-ink before they slept.
A noise woke Alessa the next day, and she sat up with a jolt. Shit! Where was Hugo? He seemed to make a habit of rising early and leaving her alone. Double shit! That noise was a car door slamming! And now there’s voices outside too. Great. Visitors. She pulled on the robe and fled to the changing room, which thankfully had a toilet. She was desperate. Alessa threw on her clothes and discovered the door to the courtyard was locked. Great. Just great.
There was another door, at the far end, she recalled, so she rushed to it. It led to a short passage, where she yanked her boots on. This ended a door, which she opened, to find herself in a kitchen, with a stranger. A youngish blonde, blue-eyed, nicely dressed stranger, who turned and stared at her.
“Hi?” Alessa tried.
“Hi back. Oh, no need to be polite to me,” said the woman. “I’m just the wife.” She gave a little half-smile at the frozen look on Alessa’s face. “Oh, ex, of course—Hugo’s far too straight-and-narrow to get involved in anything messy like that! So, don’t mind me. Tea?”
“I…” What the fuck? Alessa couldn’t speak. Could hardly breathe.
The woman bustled about, putting the kettle on, seeming at home. “Can I put you some toast on? I picked up a cottage loaf from the bakery Hugo likes in the village. He never has anything in at the weekends.”
“No. I’m leaving,” Alessa bit out. Reeling would have been a more accurate description. Stunned even more so.
“Oh, not on my account? I’ll be off in a second. I’m only here to drop off Amelia. It’s his day with her.”
If she’d been reeling and stunned a second ago, she was punch drunk now. Alessa couldn’t stop herself looking in the direction the woman pointed, to see a small blonde girl, very like the woman, sitting on a window seat at the other end of the room.
“I, erm…” was all Alessa could manage. She’d checked to see if Hugo wore a wedding ring. He didn’t, but this woman did. Alessa had never thought to ask about exes. Or children!
“He didn’t tell you, did he?” The woman’s voice was shrewd. “He didn’t even mention me. Us. I’m Amanda, by the way.”
“No. He didn’t.” Alessa’s lips had pulled themselves into a tight line.
“Huh. I bet there’s more he hasn’t mentioned.” Amanda nodded, head cocked. “Like his real surname, de Winter, or who his father was? Peter de Winter?”
Why does that ring a bell? Alessa shook her head, confused and her apprehension growing by the second.
“Oh, well, you can have a look. I’ll show you out.” Amanda smiled, guiding Alessa through corridors and into a hall. “This was his father’s house. Before he committed suicide, I mean. Do you remember the case? The Lantborough spies? Oh, not from when it happened—you weren’t born!”
Alessa, heart thudding, stared uncomprehending at the room full of files and photos Amanda had opened the door to. She barely caught what the woman was saying, about the spy ring having contained deep-cover spies, people who blended into society under false names, in addition to those turned at Cambridge, like Peter de Winter, and those hiding under diplomatic cover, like the Moscow spymaster the ring reported to in London. “Real mixed bag! Oh, not that Hugo believes his father was passing on aerospace info to Stella, or Olga, as she turned out to be, or that his father poisoned himself rather than face jail when the net was closing in. He swears his dad’s innocent.” Amanda made a scoffing noise.
“Why are you telling me all this?” Alessa burst out at last, turning from the sad mementoes, the testament of a life cut short, a family ripped apart, a childhood ended.
“You should know his background, where’s he coming from. His demons, if you will, that get in between him and life.” Amanda bit her lip. If she was acting, she was doing a superb job and could star in the plays to be put on at the theatre her ex-husband was hoping to build—at least, that was what he’d told Alessa he planned to turn the old mill into.
Amanda rallied and patted Alessa’s arm. “He probably wouldn’t tell you. He’s not into communication, probably as a result of all this, I came to think.” She indicated the room. “Look, it’s a matter of female solidarity—if you’re involved with Hugo, you should know info about him. Like, for instance, that he kicked me out when I got pregnant. He never wanted kids, but I did. I wouldn’t… Well, you can guess what he wanted me to do. But, my shelf life was up at that point, anyway. I’d aged out of the role by then. Pity.”
Amanda shrugged, twisting the gold wedding band on her finger. “He likes them blonde and bouncy, but most importantly, young, oh and kinky in the sack, and makes no bones about it. What can I say?”
“Nothing. Don’t say any more. You’ve said enough. Excuse me.” Cold with shock, Alessa pushed past the obliging, tell-all, rip-the-heart-out-of-you-and-stomp-all-over-it Amanda and wrenched at the front door. She cursed when she had to adjust her car seat and all the mirrors, and then thanked every saint she could think of when the Mini’s engine started first time. Her head spun, and her hands shook on the steering wheel, the catalogue of things Amanda had revealed whirling around, as if on a giant wheel in a game show, and when it stopped, a different piece of information was at the top, flashing, in neon letters.
No. She was stronger than that. Alessa took a deep breath and firmed every muscle, focussing just on the road ahead of her, keeping everything else at bay. Things such as the man, the dashing, charming, witty, sophisticated, moneyed older man she’d thought she was beginning a relationship with being a— What? Serial young kinky blonde dater? Amanda hadn’t looked much older than Alessa, so Alessa had, what, a couple of years, if that? And woe betide her should she want children, it seemed. There must be some mistake, she thought, clutching at straws. Some misunderstanding. Amanda— Oscillating back and forth between the two poles, Alessa didn’t know how she managed to drive back into the town and to the riverside.
Keren wasn’t in. She’d left a note for Alessa stuck to the fridge, saying she’d gone to Danni’s for Sunday lunch and Alessa should come and bring dessert—if she ever came home again, the dirty slut. This was followed by a row of exclamation marks and a few hearts. Alessa wouldn’t be going for runny spaghetti bolognaise at Danni’s, or for any meal, anywhere. Her phone was switched off, so she left it that way, trying to think.
On the one hand, the plus side, things had hardly begun with Hugo, so there was that. Most relationships, or attempts at, petered out after a date or two, once the parties got to know each other and realised they weren’t suited. Which was what had happened here. Standard. Textbook.
Except…she hadn’t gotten to know Hugo. He’d been evasive, cagey, not answering her questions, something that always made her uneasy and suspicious, and now she saw why. Okay, fine—she now knew what sort of guy he was. So…why was she pining? Hurting? Even thinking all this?
“Grrrr!” Alessa hurled the cushion she’d been clutching across the room. She hit a mug beside the chair opposite, and it tipped over, spilling the remains of the drink it held onto the carpet. Great. She’d got up to deal with the spillage when the doorbell rang. She frowned. Change of plans for Keren, bringing Danni and whoever else had gone to have lunch there, back here? Keren popping back to haul Alessa out? Whatever, she was not in the mood to talk to anyone.
“W
hat?” she snarled down the intercom.
“Why the hell did you take off?”
“Hugo?” No one else had that dark-smoke yet crisp tinge to their voice, although his was currently tight with irritation. “How…do you know my address?”
“I asked someone. And to repeat the question, why did you leave like that?” When she didn’t answer, he sighed. “Did Amanda say something to you? Whatever she said, forget—”
“Amanda.” Alessa nodded, although Hugo couldn’t see her.
“Look, could I come up? Talk in person? This is ridiculous.”
“No.”
“Alessa, whatever she said—”
“She’s lying? Like, you weren’t married to her?” Alessa held her breath, her whole body on edge.
“No, I mean, yes. No, she isn’t lying. Yes, we were married.”
“And had a child, Amelia?”
“Yes.”
“And divorced when Amanda got pregnant?” When she became a yummy mummy instead of a sex kitten, or whatever other clichés fit the case here?
“Yes, but— I refuse to discuss this via intercom for the entire apartment complex and any passersby to hear! Alessa, you must see how ridiculous this is!”
“It is stupid, yes. Stupid I had to find out about it from someone else.” And in such a horrible way, after such a wonderful night. Suddenly, she remembered Amanda had said it was Hugo’s day to spend with Amelia. He should be there now, not chasing his latest blonde around the county. How awful for the poor kid, as if things weren’t sad enough for her already.
“Wait. You think I should have told you?” He sounded incredulous.
“Of course! Obviously! It would have been the honest thing to do.”
“Just exposed all my secrets to you after spending less than forty-eight hours in your company?”
Whispers of Winter: A Limited Edition Collection of Winter Romances Page 83
