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Playing House
ISBN # 978-1-78184-216-4
©Copyright Genevieve Ash 2013
Cover Art by Posh Gosh ©Copyright January 2013
Edited by Sue Meadows
Total-E-Bound Publishing
This is a work of fiction. All characters, places and events are from the author’s imagination and should not be confused with fact. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, events or places is purely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any material form, whether by printing, photocopying, scanning or otherwise without the written permission of the publisher, Total-E-Bound Publishing.
Applications should be addressed in the first instance, in writing, to Total-E-Bound Publishing. Unauthorised or restricted acts in relation to this publication may result in civil proceedings and/or criminal prosecution.
The author and illustrator have asserted their respective rights under the Copyright Designs and Patents Acts 1988 (as amended) to be identified as the author of this book and illustrator of the artwork.
Published in 2013 by Total-E-Bound Publishing, Think Tank, Ruston Way, Lincoln, LN6 7FL, United Kingdom.
Warning:
This book contains sexually explicit content which is only suitable for mature readers. This story has a heat rating of Total-e-burning and a sexometer of 2.
This story contains 61 pages, additionally there is also a free excerpt at the end of the book containing 6 pages.
PLAYING HOUSE
Genevieve Ash
Playing House—a game where love always wins.
Bel and Max have an arrangement. Their busy lives leave little time for a ‘real’ relationship so they meet every few months, choosing to spend their time together exploring the sensual pleasures life has to offer.
Bel left her emotionally abusive husband years before and has never found the time to date. Max has trust issues because his wife left him for his best friend. When they get together, the sexual chemistry can’t be denied but their emotions have to be held at bay. A visit to Max’s home has them Playing House and they spend their time doing things that other couples take for granted.
Bel’s increasing desire to spend more time with Max brings those hidden emotions to the surface and a choice must be made. Will Max learn to trust again? Will his indecision cause Bel to doubt his feelings for her? Will Bel be able to live with the small part of his life that he is willing to give or will Max realise that a more permanent solution is what they need?
Dedication
A kiss for you, My Darling.
Trademarks Acknowledgement
The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:
Leaving on a Jet Plane: John Denver
Skype: Microsoft Corporation
White Pages: Peopletracer Ltd.
Chapter One
Number seventy-five seemed to stand a bit taller than the other houses in the terrace, proudly shining like a sentry amidst the decaying buildings surrounding it. The melting pot of people nearby brought the flavour of the world to the tiny village—the innocent call of children that played in the street, the ethnic smells of cooking drifting through tattered curtains blowing in the soft breeze, and the peace of acceptance that filled the air.
Anticipation bubbled through Belisha. Max popped the hatch of the car and hoisted their bags from the boot. Their time would begin now. Once inside the bubble of their existence, nothing could touch them except joy, happiness and bliss.
The cast-iron gate squealed in protest as Belisha pushed on the intricately carved panel and the high-pitched sound made her heart flip-flop. The rolling rumble of the luggage followed her up the short cobbled walk to the etched glass door—the door that invited them with a glimpse of the pleasure that lay ahead. Belisha’s hand trembled as she slid the key into the slot. The months leading to this moment had almost sent her over the edge, but now it was here. She tried to force more air into her lungs. It was always like this when they met, but each time Bel wanted it more than the last—wanted him more. The lock turned easily and the door swung wide.
Once inside she expelled her breath, and, hearing Max’s deep sigh, she knew they were home. Finally, they were together in the world where they could be themselves—no pretence, no fear, no pain.
* * * *
When she had arrived at the station earlier, she had seen him waiting. It had appeared he was bouncing on his toes like an anxious child. It had been four months since their last visit. The moment he’d spotted her walking towards him a smile had lit his face and she’d wanted to break into a run. Her heavy cases and a required sense of decorum had kept her steps calculated and even, but on the inside—she had been running.
They’d stood in front of one another for what had seemed like an eternity before he’d leaned in to kiss first one, then the other cheek, lingering just a moment longer than was the normal custom. She had held her breath, her body still, as she had felt the pressure of his lips against her skin. The lips she had longed for, had waited for, had cried out for. She hadn’t kissed him back, she hadn’t been able to. All she had been able to do was take the moment and bury it deep inside her memory.
Like vaguely familiar acquaintances, they had strolled the short distance to the car park discussing her flight from Chicago and the long journey by train to his hometown. The elevator had just been big enough for the two of them and her burdensome luggage. Once in the confines of the cramped space, his scent had filled her to bursting, and suddenly she had been in his arms, plunging her tongue deeply into his mouth. She’d wrapped her arms around his shoulders and had held on for dear life, this time, kissing him back.
Max had buckled her into the car, leaning in to take her lips once again. His palm had cupped one of her breasts, squeezing gently with a promise of what was yet to come, and she’d sighed softly against his lips. Their need had been urgent, yet tender at the same time. They had waited so long to touch one another—there was no sense in rushing it now. Her adrenaline still pushing her worn-out body, she had wanted nothing more than to crawl into the warmth of his embrace and settle into the tender rhythm of their love.
They had stopped for groceries, wandering aimlessly up and down the aisles lost in the novelty of it all. He’d tried to be ever practical and focused, but all she had been able to do was glance from the corner of her eye at him pushing the cart beside her. Something normal couples took for granted, even dreaded at times. For her it was another fantasy coming true.
“What would you like to eat?” he’d asked kindly.
Belisha had looked at him with a different kind of hunger in her eyes.
“Soon, Bel. Very, very soon,” he had murmured sensually. “First we need to get some food in the house or they will find our withered bodies wrapped in a tangle of wet sheets.”
“True enough. Perhaps we should pick up some sport drinks?” she’d added and had laughed.
A pair of foodies, they’d oohed and ahhed over the exotic choices of imported produce. Randomly, they’d tossed their choices into the cart, assuming the other would approve.
“Max, look—fresh lychees. Can we try them?”
“Of course, love, they are exquisite. Just like you,” he’d added with a smile.
Bel had known by the look in his eyes that he had plans for those lychees already. She’ hoped that plan included peeling them first. Her memory had darted to a time they had shared fresh strawberries and she shivered.
“Uh—maybe not, Max.”
“Come on, Bel, where is your sense of adventure?” he’d asked with a wink.
<
br /> “I think we have enough. Let’s go home,” she’d said without thinking.
“Don’t forget, love, you will have a couple of days without me when I‘m at the conference. I want to know you are eating.”
“Oh, don’t spoil it already,” she had moaned. “I wish I could go with you.” Bel knew it couldn’t be helped but she didn’t want to give him up for a single minute, let alone two days. She didn’t want to give him up ever. She was grateful they would have an entire week together but being without him was getting more and more difficult for Bel to handle.
“I know, but I’ll only be gone a couple of days. Besides, you’ll be ready for a break by then.”
“Maybe you’re afraid all this time together will be too much for you. Are you afraid you will get tired of me?” Her voice had been light, but inside she had felt the doubt creeping in.
“Yes, that must have been what I was thinking,” he’d said as he’d paid the cashier for their groceries.
She had to clear her head. All the feelings leading to this day had been building inside her. Instead of telling him how she felt, her fears and insecurities would slip out at inappropriate moments. If she could just risk being a fool and talk about it, they might be able to avoid her inevitable emotional outburst. He had responsibilities and he had worked hard to clear his schedule so they could have a whole week together. She was greedy when it came to their time. She could never get enough of him and she didn’t like to share. It had been almost two years since they had begun their arrangement. He was totally committed to his job and it required a great deal of travelling.
She was a single mum and cared for an aging parent. The distance between them was great, but they’d decided it was better to plan their visits as special time where they would focus on only one another. During the ‘in-between’, they lived separate lives. It suited them both and they lived more in their moments together than they would have if they were together every day. They did not take a single minute for granted. Sometimes Bel had moments of weakness and wished things were different, but her disintegrated marriage had taught her that to be vulnerable to another person was only setting her up for heartache. She had given all she had to her ex-husband, but obviously it had not been enough. Emotionally abused, she had begun to believe all the terrible things he had said, until one day her young daughter had asked her why she tolerated it. It had been the wake-up call had been just what she had needed. She’d packed up only what was important—her daughter, leaving without as much as a backward glance. Ten years later and she was still enjoying her freedom. She had a busy and happy life. She knew a man would only complicate things, but when she had met Max she had remembered all the things she missed most about being in love.
Leaving the grocery store, she’d sat beside him in his car and had watched his profile as he had driven them to his house. She had rested her hand on his neck, stroking her fingers though his baby soft hair whilst remembering the night it had all begun.
* * * *
It had been a Friday and the restaurant had been packed. Her sous chef had been sick and the wait staff had been short by three. There had been some issues, but for the most part she had had it under control. When the floor manager had asked her to talk with a customer, she’d tried to wave her off saying she had no time. The insistent and whining server had refused to take no for an answer, so Bel had taken off her apron and headed into the restaurant just to shut her up.
The table of six stressed-out looking ‘suits’ had looked up at her expectantly—all of them except for one. He’d looked at her with pure unadulterated desire and it had made her tremble inside. Known for her finesse in dealing with dissatisfied customers, she’d fumbled through her words at a loss as to how to appease them. She’d comped all their meals and had walked away. Their complaint hadn’t even been legitimate. They had just been another group of pseudo-intellectual bores trying to prove that money bought them taste. She’d been angry because she’d not defended her food. She’d stepped outside, letting the cold heavy air wet her face. Stomping her foot in anger, she’d cursed as a cold puddle had exploded wetting her sock beneath the leather clog.
“Damn it, I hate wet socks,” she’d cursed to the ground below.
“Why didn’t you tell him he was wrong?” The deep voice had crawled slowly up her spine, tickling her skin like a daddy-long-legs.
Turning slowly, she’d seen him—the man from the table—and he had been smiling at her.
“Why do you care? It is none of your business,” she’d replied a bit too angrily.
“I make it my business to read people and I could see it went against your grain to appease them.”
“Well, the customer is always right…”
“No, they aren’t.”
Irritated, she’d wondered what this guy’s deal had been. “Look—”
“Max.”
“Max, why don’t you just go back to your stuffy little group and find something else to complain about.”
“Now you’re getting personal. Why are you so angry?”
“I am not angry. I am tired and don’t have time to pretend with an arrogant stranger.”
The sound of Max’s laughter had only served to raise her ire. She’d tried to pass by him back into the restaurant, but he’d danced to block her way.
Sighing in exasperation, she’d said, “What do you want, Max?”
He hadn’t responded right away, but the look in his eyes had told her his thoughts had been very…personal.
“You,” he’d replied bluntly.
Bel had been at a loss for words from his brazen response. She’d stood in the glow of the street lamp shivering in the damp night. She’d wanted to lash out, slap him even, but the tickle of pleasure that had grazed her clit had made her hesitate. She hadn’t even thought about being with a man in a long time. She had been too busy for that but suddenly her need had been front and centre.
She’d tried to gauge the seriousness of his comment, but he had made his desire pretty clear.
“Okay,” she’d said trying to head him off with the element of surprise.
“Okay. What time to you get off work?” he’d asked calmly.
Bel hadn’t realised who she had been dealing with and had tried to rethink her game.
“Uh, very late—I guess I’ll have to decline your invitation. Maybe next week,” she’d added, stalling for time.
“You said okay. I’m only here for a couple more days.”
“A woman’s prerogative to change her mind?” she’d replied weakly.
“Well, I am denying you that prerogative. I can tell you are a woman who keeps her word. I’ll wait.”
Bel had had to admit she had been curious about Max. His honesty had been refreshing. They’d agreed on breakfast the next day and after exchanging cell phones they’d typed their numbers in and he had said he would text her details. As he’d walked away, Bel hadn’t been able to help but feel that her life had been about to change—only she hadn’t been so sure it would be for the better.
* * * *
Stopping for a red light, Max had dropped his hand to her thigh and pinched at the clasp of her garters poking through her dress, He’d turned his desire-filled gaze to her and Bel had felt the moisture began to roll down the walls of her cunt as she clenched her thighs together tightly. The soft purr of the engine had buzzed in her head and she’d been lost in a moment of pure desire until the sharp sound of a horn had startled them both, and Max moved through the green light.
They unpacked the groceries and wandered through the neat and tidy house together. He wasn’t home often, so, it wasn’t surprising to her that it looked more like a rental than a home. Small touches uniquely his were scattered throughout and she noted them lovingly to store in her memory. Bel, you had better get a grip or you will spoil your time with him. You know the rules. He will not give you any more and you have accepted that. Two years they had been together and this was her first time in his home. To be with h
im there was so—intimate. She knew she shouldn’t wish for things she couldn’t have but being there gave her a sense of hope. She told him she knew the truth, but she was a liar—lying to him, to herself, to anyone that bothered to listen. She might know the truth, but inside she still believed that someday…
She followed him up the stairs, her heart racing as he dropped the bags in their bedroom. The afternoon sun crept through the slats of the wooden blinds, throwing a golden glow across the inviting bed. The fluffy duvet and generous mounds of pillows covered in crisp white cotton called to her tired, but thrumming body. No longer able to hold back her need she lifted the brick-coloured, cashmere dress over her head and stood trembling in her red lace bra and matching garter belt. The slippery black stockings clung to her thighs and she could feel the moisture nestled between her legs. He stood as if paralysed, looking at her. She reached for the top button of his shirt. One by one she pushed the discs through the tiny slits, exposing his sweet smooth skin as the shirt parted. Pushing the starched cotton back and off his shoulders, she buried her face in the soft hairs of his chest inhaling his scent—the scent that filled her with peace. The scent that never left her and that told her—‘I am home’.
Max cupped her bottom then pulled her tightly to him. He unclasped her garters, then slid his hands up her back to unhook her bra and slip it from her shoulders. The lines of sun criss-crossed her body and Bel could see desire in his gaze once more before he pushed her onto the soft bed. Bel propped herself up on her elbows and watched him finish undressing.
He stood before her. His jutting erection seemed to be reaching for the place it most needed to be. There were no words. There was no need. He simply dropped to his knees at the foot of the bed and buried his face in her soft wet folds. He licked at her frantically. His staccato pace turned to long, deep, slow licks and Bel felt the tide rising. The cool sheets against her back, the warm sun across her tummy and his soft lips against her smooth flesh—she was lost in the tactile sensations enveloping her and she groaned deeply. When he pushed his tongue into her, it was only a matter of moments before she exploded. The need had been waiting for so long and she let it go. The pressure rose up from her core and spread out through her body until it came together once more, flowing from her lips in a long deep cry of absolute pleasure.
Playing House Page 1
