She Devil

by Christy McKellen

  I hear his ragged breathing in my ear and I know he’s close too, so close. And that knowledge pushes me over the edge and breaks into a sparkling tidal wave of ecstasy, the shocks of it crashing through my body and sending a roaring pleasure through my head.

  I have no idea if I’ve made a sound—my hearing is too full of my own internal joy—but as it starts to subside I become aware of a low, frantic sound coming from Jamie’s throat and he pounds into me a few more times, his body jerking above me, the sinews in his neck taut and his jaw clamped as he comes inside me.

  In that one moment everything is absolutely perfect. Still. Calm. Serene.

  And then out of nowhere hot tears suddenly press behind my eyes and a wave of emotion hits me hard. I’m crying, unable to hold back the persuasive release of tension. Hard, wracking sobs escape from my throat and fat tears run down my cheeks and into my ears.

  ‘Hey, hey, it’s okay,’ Jamie says, a concerned frown creasing his perfect brow. ‘Shh...’ he soothes. He places feather-light kisses to my nose, lips and cheeks, using his tongue to smooth away the tears streaking my skin.

  After another few minutes of this madness I’m finally able to get myself under control and I give him a wobbly smile.

  ‘Sorry, I don’t know why I’m crying. I think it’s just the relief of finally getting that life-changing orgasm you’ve been promising me for far too long now,’ I joke to cover my embarrassment.

  He’s still frowning at me, though I’m not sure it’s with dismay. ‘As long as you’re crying with appreciation rather than disappointment.’

  I can’t help but smile at that, my tears finally drying on my cheeks. ‘Definitely appreciation,’ I whisper. ‘Definitely.’

  ‘Well, that’s okay, then,’ he says, rolling off me then pulling me into his side and wrapping his arms around me. Holding me close.

  I feel on the edge of a transformation, as if I’m finally reaching the kind of freedom I’ve been longing for. For so, so long. But, like everything good, I know the feeling will be short-lived. He can’t really be mine. This is only temporary. An illusion. A means to an end.

  As soon as he’s given me what I want I’ll have to let him go again.

  I tighten my arms around him and bury my face deeper into his chest, breathing in the reassuringly familiar scent of his skin, committing this moment to memory.

  Because I’m not ready to let him go just yet.

  Not yet.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Jamie

  SHE’S STILL HOLDING back her secrets from me. I know she is. But right at this moment I can’t bring myself to care.

  I lie on the rug in my living room with her warm body pulled tightly against mine, feeling the slow and steady rhythm of her breath on my chest where she’s buried her head against me. I can barely believe she’s here, in my house, pressed securely to my body. A thing I’d never thought would happen again.

  And I’ve proved I can make her come hard, just as I’d promised I would.

  I’d been so caught up in the moment, so determined to get the reaction I wanted from her, it hadn’t exactly been my most skilful performance. It had been more fast and furious than finessed—but that seemed to be what we both needed.

  I don’t feel bad about it, anyway. These last two days have been one long session of foreplay. And I know I was successful because she cried—something I’d never dreamed I’d see April do.

  I’d been horrified at first, feeling a jab of guilt for pushing her towards such an extreme reaction, but then it occurred to me that maybe it was a good thing. She held her feelings so tightly to her, so hidden, maybe this was cathartic. A response to the relief she felt at finally being able to let go.

  Sex—good sex—was therapeutic for her. And if that was the case I was more than happy to counsel her some more while she was here. Perhaps after a couple more days of stunning orgasms she’ll find it easy to give in and tell me what I want to know.

  My plan might work after all.

  Perhaps then I’ll have the peace I’m looking for.

  It’s funny, but I was surprised to find it had actually been a massive relief to apologise to her. To admit out loud that I’d made mistakes and that she’d been the victim of them. That it had been wrong for me to act like that—whether or not she’d hurt me first.

  It was liberating finally to be free of that shame.

  One huge step closer to throwing off the chains of my past.

  She shifts against me.

  ‘Are you okay there?’ I ask.

  I feel her nod. ‘Yes, fine, but I could do with a few minutes out,’ she says, pulling away from me, not meeting my eye as she rolls to one side and sits up, her back to me.

  I want to reach out and stop her from leaving, disappointed that this new closeness should be interrupted when I was enjoying it so much, but I know that would be a bad idea. And, honestly, I could probably do with a few minutes to recover too.

  Things have been pretty intense around here lately.

  I watch her stand up—still so graceful and self-assured, even when she’s completely naked—and walk out of the room, her once-neat hair falling down her back in messy tendrils.

  God, she’s sexy when she’s messed up.

  Even though I’ve come very recently my cock still hardens at the sight of it. It seems my body’s not entirely satisfied with that one quick fuck and is hoping for more.

  Much more.

  And why shouldn’t I indulge that impulse? It’s clear that both of us were completely into what just happened. And this physical contact is bringing us closer, which will help my strategy to get her to trust me again so she’ll talk.

  I pull my stained shorts and T-shirt back on, smiling at the memory of our sexual-tension-fuelled food fight—that had been a lot of fun—and pick up a crossword to do a couple of clues in an attempt to distract myself from the pressing quiet of the room now she’s not in it.

  After a few minutes, I throw the paper down and pick up a book I’ve been trying to read—unsuccessfully—since she’s been here. Her presence seems to have fried my brain to the point where I can’t concentrate on anything cerebral for long and I’ve ended up reading the same page over and over again.

  But that’s no good either.

  I get up, book dangling from my fingers, and pace around the room, staring out of the windows towards the sea, waiting for her to come back.

  But she doesn’t.

  It’s been at least twenty minutes since she disappeared upstairs. Is she okay? Or is she regretting what happened now? Perhaps she’s embarrassed about crying in front of me. Showing me weakness. Something she’s been so careful not to do for so many years now.

  I throw the book back onto the coffee table. The hell with this. I can’t hang around here while she’s up there alone, pulling that hard shell around her again when I’ve only just cracked it open. I’ve worked too hard to get her finally to relax around me to let this opportunity get away from me now.

  I make my way upstairs, my mind racing and my body buzzing with a strange kind of nervy energy. What the hell’s making me feel like that? Is it the worry that I’ve not capitalised on the progress I’ve just made and that it might all slip through my fingers from here? We’ve just concluded the agreement I proposed, after all, so she might just try to pin me to it and demand I sign the documents she’s bound to have brought with her, in true April style.

  I can’t let that happen, though. I need to distract her. Or make up a new condition.

  My heart lurches as I climb the last couple of steps and turn towards the door to the room she’s staying in. To my relief I see it open as I approach and she steps onto the landing and pulls the door closed behind her.

  So she was coming back after all.

  Relief trickles through me, but a surge of desire quickly takes its place as she turn
s and spots me, giving me a wide, friendly smile, as if she’s pleased to see me.

  She’s changed into a pale-green strapless sundress that stops mid-thigh and showcases her incredible legs. Her hair has been tamed into a neat bun at the base of her neck. She’s put her armour back on, I realise. Exactly what I’d feared she’d do.

  I need to get her out of it again as soon as possible.

  Striding towards her, I tilt my head in a gesture of concern. ‘Is everything okay? I was worried about you.’

  Her smile widens. ‘You were worried about me?’ She seems genuinely touched by this notion.

  I push away a wave of unease. That’s how I wanted her to react, so why do I feel so uncomfortable about it? Is it because it makes me happy actually to hear it?

  No. I can’t let myself fall down that rabbit hole. This thing between us can’t go anywhere after this. I know how ruthless and self-centred she’s capable of being and I don’t want to put myself in a position where I might have to deal with that again. This is a short-term thing only.

  Seeming to read my racing thoughts, she takes a step towards me and cocks a questioning eyebrow.

  ‘Are you okay?’

  ‘Yes, I’m great,’ I say in a casual tone. I can’t let her think for a second that this is unnerving me in any way.

  ‘So are you satisfied that you can make me come now?’ she murmurs with a wry smile.

  ‘Fairly satisfied,’ I say, deadpan.

  She raises her eyebrows. ‘Was I not convincing?’ She seems to be genuinely concerned about this. But then this is a woman who hates to be thought of as anything but exceptional in everything she does.

  ‘Pretty convincing,’ I reply, in an equable tone. ‘But I’m the type of person who likes to do a comprehensive evaluation of something before I’m satisfied that I’ve done it to the best of my ability. To make sure the first time wasn’t a fluke.’

  Reaching out, I run my fingertips lightly over her collarbone to the hollow of her neck, seeing her shiver as I caress her soft skin there.

  Her breath catches in her throat as I move my hand lower to skate over the swell of her left breast, where her hardened nipple is pushing into the soft material of her dress, giving her own interest away. I play my fingertips over that tight little nub, seeing her chest rise and fall with her accelerated breathing before moving my hand lower, down over her stomach to the hem of her dress. Sliding the dress up her legs, I slip my hand into her underwear, and she leans back against the wall behind her and widens her stance so I can glide my fingers over her mons and dip a fingertip into the hot, wet heat of her pussy.

  ‘Are you changing the terms of the deal on me?’ she whispers, but I can tell from the catch in her breath and the way she rocks her hips back and forth, pushing my finger deeper inside her, that she’s not totally averse to the idea of extending the terms of our agreement. She moves against my touch like this for a few seconds, her breathing deepening and the movement of her hips becoming more pronounced.

  ‘I don’t remember stipulating that it only had to happen once,’ I murmur, flashing her a provocative grin.

  Her eyebrows shoot up. ‘So what are your new terms?’

  ‘Similar to before. You stay for two more days and I’ll see how many times I can make you come in that time frame.’

  Her eyes widen.

  ‘That’s a bold proposal.’

  ‘I have confidence in my abilities,’ I say, pressing my thumb against her clit and smiling as she draws in a sharp intake of breath. A low moan resonates in her throat as I draw tight circles around the sensitive little bud.

  Her legs start to shake and I become aware that this isn’t the best place to conduct our next adventure.

  I pull my hand out of her underwear and she looks at me like she wants to kill me.

  ‘Please don’t start that torturing shit again!’ she hisses, sounding thoroughly pissed off about the interruption.

  It makes me pity the poor fools that work for her.

  ‘Don’t worry, it’s just a short interlude while we change locations,’ I tell her.

  Before she can protest, I scoop her up into my arms and march us into my bedroom on the other side of the landing, kicking the door shut behind me before I deposit her on my bed.

  ‘Take your clothes off,’ I tell her, pulling my T-shirt over my head and moving straight onto my shorts. By the time I’m buck-naked on the bed, she’s removed all her own clothes and is stretched out on the mattress, looking at me with those intelligent, discerning eyes, just daring me to take this further.

  I take a moment to gaze at her, soaking in every detail of her gorgeous body, every curve, every dip, every smooth plane, and I consciously have to shake myself out of the erotic trance I’ve put myself into imagining all the things I want to do to her. Letting out a growl of appreciation, I start to kiss every bit of the body I’ve just inspected so thoroughly until she’s moaning softly and writhing with pleasure under the pressure of my mouth.

  I straddle her, then use my knee to push her thighs apart so she’s forced to spread her legs for me. Then, reaching under the bed, I bring out a box of toys I’d ordered especially for her visit here, just in case. I’m actually pretty delighted that I’m getting the chance to use them.

  I pluck out a small silver tub the size of my palm and screw off the lid.

  She tilts her chin to look down at what I’m doing. ‘What the hell is that?’ she asks with a tremor in her voice—but it’s one of keen interest.

  ‘Just something to heighten sensations,’ I say cryptically.

  Her eyebrows twitch, but she doesn’t question me further. It seems she’s prepared to trust that she’ll like whatever it is I’m going to do to her. And she will. I’m confident of it.

  Rubbing my finger over the smooth, oily substance, I make sure I’ve got a good amount on my fingertip before applying it to both of her nipples, spreading it thinly over the areoles and then the peaks, which are pointing upwards with wanton attentiveness.

  It takes a moment or two for her to feel it, but when she does she draws in a short, ragged gasp.

  ‘Oh! Oh!’ she breathes, her mouth forming a wide, appreciative smile. ‘That feels cold. And tingly.’

  ‘That’s the menthol doing it’s work,’ I say with a grin, then I bend forward so my mouth is only inches away from her left nipple and gently blow a cool breeze over it.

  ‘Ngh!’ The sound she makes is like an aphrodisiac to my brain.

  I move to the other nipple and give it the same treatment, and I’m rewarded with the same show of pleasure.

  Then I breathe hot air over her breasts instead to alter the sensation.

  ‘Oh, my God, God, God!’ she moans.

  ‘Are you ready for it on your clit?’ I ask, lacing my voice with dark intent.

  ‘Wait—what?’ she says, lifting her head from the bed and starting to move, as if she’s not sure she likes the idea of that.

  ‘Trust me,’ I say, putting a hand on her belly and gently pushing her back down. ‘You’re going to love it.’

  She looks at me as if she’s not entirely sure she wants to trust me, but I keep my expression fixed in a look of absolute self-assurance and she finally submits and flops back down onto the bed.

  After slathering some more of the oily balm onto my finger—taking my time doing it, to tease her some more with the anticipation of waiting for it—I carefully put the pot onto the bedside table before returning to kneel next to her on the bed.

  ‘Spread your legs wider,’ I order her.

  She does as I ask and I see that she’s trembling a little now.

  But this is going to feel so good. And I know for a fact she’s going to love what I’m going to do to her next.

  Her fingers grip the sheet on either side of her as I lean forward and gently part her folds to expose the neat
nub of her clitoris to my gaze, then I stroke her there with my loaded finger, once, twice, three times.

  Again, it takes a moment for the sensation to hit, but when it does she gives me the same beautiful reaction as before.

  I bend my head and blow on her there, hot, then cold, then hot.

  Small gasps of air are escaping from her throat as I continue to tease her like this for a few minutes, changing the sensation over and over again until I sense she’s going a little crazy from it.

  ‘Jamie, I need—I need—’

  Clearly she doesn’t quite know what she needs, but that’s okay, because I do.

  I move away from her and reach into the box again, extracting a beautifully made clear glass dildo from it, which has ridges along the shaft, each one spaced an inch apart. It’s a thing of beauty and feels perfectly weighted in my hand. It’s heavy, solid and substantial. A sex toy of kings.

  A tube of lube is the next thing to appear from the box.

  She raises her head and watches me with rapt fascination as I smooth lube over the head of the dildo.

  ‘Where are you going to put that?’ she asks breathily.

  ‘One of two possible places,’ I say with a wry lift of my eyebrow as I move it between her legs, running the cool, smooth head over her clit and then down through her folds—taking my time so she can appreciate the quality of my tools—to the bridge of smooth skin between her vagina and asshole, where I gently press it into her with tantalising intent.

  ‘You really would have that reputed stick up your ass if I put it in here,’ I joke as I move it fractionally closer to her tightly puckered hole.

  She wriggles her hips a little, as if trying to get me to move it lower. Daring me to go through with my threat.

  ‘But maybe not just yet,’ I say. ‘Maybe I’ll put something better in there later.’ I can tell from the flash of interest in her eyes that she likes that idea. She always did like anal play, as I so childishly let slip all those years ago. That hadn’t been a lie. But that’s what had been so awful about it. I’d let loose her most private desires.