Wellington Series 2

by Kris Pearson

  Was she supposed to follow him into the sitting room? He hadn’t said, and surely he was in the mood to demand exactly what he wanted? She heard him pacing about on the marble floor for a few seconds. Then his footfall was no longer audible—was he on the thick rug now? Did he want her there? She imagined it vividly while she waited for his summons. And was surprised when he returned with a big fur throw and some of her raw silk cushions. He tossed them on top of his jacket on the nearby ottoman.

  “What...?”

  He sent her a sizzling grin and lifted the heavy pot containing the tall Kentia Palm off the big central table.

  “Okay if I put this here?” he asked as he set it on the floor a few feet away.

  Mel nodded, still leaning against the door. Her brain raced with possibilities.

  He spread the fur throw on the table, almost as though he was preparing a bed.

  Without warning, he swung her up into his arms. When she started to struggle and protest he silenced her with a hungry kiss. “I want to see you,” he insisted, laying her on the table. “I want to enjoy making you come. And watch as you go out of control.”

  “I didn’t get to see you,” she protested, blushing as she pictured herself doing what he was describing.

  “Your choice, baby. I didn’t get to see you before, either. Just had to imagine through the car roof... You can watch me next time, maybe?”

  I want you buried out of sight next time, Cody. Out of sight and out of a condom.

  Cody slipped a hand under her head and placed one of the cushions there for comfort. He combed his fingers through her long hair, smoothing out tangles, looking down into her eyes.

  Mel knew they’d show both hunger and trepidation. His were so darkly sexual and intent on her that she shivered—despite the warm night, despite the fur, despite the heat pulsing from her scalp to her toes.

  She’d expected to be laughing and wrestling with him in a tangle of sheets in a half dark bedroom, not spread out like a sacrificial offering, bathed in light and at his mercy.

  She crossed her arms over her breasts.

  “No.” He lifted her hands away and laid them at her sides.

  She pressed her thighs together.

  “Uh-uh.” He slid his hands along the edge of the table, in under her calves, and lifted her legs apart. Her stiletto-sandaled feet hung in mid-air.

  Mel closed her eyes. Squeezed them shut to block out her view of handsome sexy Cody Mitchell doing delicious things to her. And then opened them because she couldn’t bear not seeing him.

  “Relax Mel, it’ll be nothing but pleasure.” His smile flashed white and wicked before he kissed her brow, her nose, her parted lips—and on down along her neck until he was back to her breasts again.

  She gasped as his hot mouth settled over a nipple, drawing in a bite so his tongue could play. Ripples of sensation spread down through her torso and into her very core.

  She wanted him there, potent and pulsing, flooding her with his hot fertile semen. She arched her back, and her hips shifted on the table top. Without volition her legs parted further.

  She felt Cody’s lips leave her breast, brush over her belly, drop a circle of kisses around her navel.

  She tensed. He was so close... closer... his lips hovered right over her clit. His breath burned hot. And then his tongue just touched her—the merest teasing flick.

  She tensed and gasped.

  Another feather light touch.

  God, that was incredible.

  And again.

  “Cody...” she moaned, wriggling her butt against the table-top and opening her legs a further few degrees.

  She felt the scrape of his close-shaven cheek as he smoothed his face along her thigh and kissed her knee.

  What!? That wasn’t where she wanted him. He knew where he was supposed to be...

  And then she sighed as his lips came cruising up again, giving her wet little kisses all the way to her acutely aroused clit.

  He stopped.

  “Nice?” he asked.

  Melanie groaned with frustration. She didn’t trust herself to speak.

  Incredibly, he stood up and walked away.

  “Cody!” It was a squeak. A tiny breathless squeak. Was that the best she could manage? She turned her head to see what he was doing.

  Pulling off his shirt.

  Picking up cushions.

  Despite the spotlight, Mel sensed the world had gone dark. Her concentration had narrowed only to him.

  To his ruffled spiky hair and intense black eyes.

  To his strong tanned shoulders and hard chest.

  To his taut belly with its enticing feathery stripe that led down to the slim black leather trouser belt straining to keep his engorged cock from bursting free.

  To the cushion he was holding as he indicated he wanted her to raise her hips so he could position it underneath her.

  She swallowed and tried to comply. And then her heartbeat accelerated still further when he tossed another couple of cushions onto the marble floor, knelt, lifted her legs over his shoulders, grabbed the fur throw and tugged her roughly forward.

  His lips closed around her and he sucked.

  Mel gave a huge astounded gasp.

  Cody pulled away a fraction.

  “I’ve got you right where I want you now,” he murmured, lowering his head again.

  Plainly where he wanted her was flat on her back, hips angled up so she was totally accessible, and legs apart so he could explore her with excruciating thoroughness. He ran the tip of his tongue either side of her clit, teasing her with his closeness. He licked lower—down to the sensitive skin above her asshole.

  “No...” she groaned.

  She felt the warm puffs of breath as he laughed against her skin.

  He licked higher, slipping inside her for a brief exploration before he moved back to her clit. His tongue slid smoothly against her, caressing her over and over as though she was a scoop of delicious ice-cream.

  Her astounded brain pictured a luscious fruit—shiny and rosy and glistening.

  It took only a few more sensation-drenched moments before she dragged in a frantic breath, felt all her pelvic muscles convulse, and she screamed as the pleasure overload hit. Keening cries ripped from her throat. Her fists grabbed thin air and clung on for the frantic pulsing ride.

  She’d never come so intensely in her life.

  Cody’s tongue continued to stroke over her until she was so painfully sensitive she had to push his head away.

  “Don’t, don’t, don’t,” she pleaded.

  “That good, was it?” He looked very smug.

  Mel lay there, lungs laboring, breasts heaving.

  “And I haven’t really explored in here,” he said a minute or two later, slipping a finger inside her.

  She gave a startled yelp and tried to squeeze him out.

  He grinned as she lay boneless, helpless, limp as a sleeping cat in the sun.

  “Nice action you’ve got there, Mel. We’ll have fun with that later. Come on—relax again.”

  He removed his finger, stood, walked around the table, and pulled the fur throw back to its former position. Mel slid with it, and the backs of her knees hit the table edge. Her legs swung like pendulums. Her high-heeled sandals finally dropped from her feet, clattering onto the marble floor.

  “So you’re all undressed for me now?” he suggested, lifting her off the table with apparent ease and carrying her up the stairs toward bed.

  Chapter Five—Thailand

  Andrew Kennedy sniffed. Luxuries like freshly laundered Swiss cotton handkerchiefs were not in good supply inside the high walls of Samut Prakan prison, so he sniffed a second time.

  The sniffs carried a multitude of Thailand’s smells up his running nostrils. The stench of the river and the odor of his cellmates’ feet predominated. Fainter smells like last night’s government dinner and a waft of the guard’s over generous application of cologne drifted in the humid pre-dawn air. Somewhere, sickly sw
eet flowers bloomed.

  Andrew knew how to work the system after ten years. His lawyer saw to it he had money. His mother sent him occasional letters, letting him know family news like his father’s death, Mel’s marriage and subsequent takeover of CustomAir, her own theatrical projects. He was sure the letters were deliberately insulting—letting him know Mel had all the money, and that Cynthia had the freedom to flit around the world while he stayed stuck in this hellhole.

  At least the regular allowance bought him cigarettes to trade for favors, and better food than the government’s dross. Those who couldn’t pay existed on endless standard issue brown rice and putrid curry-flavored soup.

  Fifty-three men to a medium sized cell meant there was barely sleeping room on the floor, and at night the blaring TV and the never-doused lights still drove him as crazy as the yaa baa pills had way back in his past.

  Ah, but when he got out... when he was safely home in New Zealand... then he’d take his vengeance out on those who deserved it.

  He’d force his sister to hand over a share of the airline. No way was she keeping the lot. Her dead husband’s share should come to him, Andrew Kennedy. He was family, not like Mel’s precious Rob Anderson. Andrew would claim his rightful inheritance, and fight his mother’s decision in court if that was what it took.

  It would happen soon.

  With minimal movement, he wriggled onto his back. He’d had enough of Eugene Meissen’s stinking feet in his face. The men were packed like sardines on the hard floor. It was getting light. Surely they’d be allowed up any minute now?

  The unfairness of his situation swirled endlessly in his brain. Ten years for two hundred grams of cocaine? He could hold it in his hand, for God’s sake! Had held it in his hand as he considered where best to conceal it. One freaking handful of powder had cost him ten years of life? Unreal.

  Hell, he was so broke back then he’d had no option. He’d been desperate to get extra money from somewhere. When his lousy parents refused to transfer any more of theirs to his account, they’d forced him to take the risk.

  Their fault. Not his. He’d easily convinced himself of that.

  At least good old Lloyd Brentworth had stood by him. Money had arrived regularly for cigarettes, soap and food.

  (He had no idea the drip-fed finance came from Mel, channeled through Tibbets Ainsley and Brentworth, Barristers and Solicitors, so she didn’t have to suffer the constant reminder of her twin brother’s stupidity.)

  Andrew owed Lloyd a few drinks when he made it back home, that was for sure. Owed him bigtime for looking after him when no-one else had given a damn. He pictured them hitting the Jazmin Bar together—or if not the Jazmin, then wherever was now the city’s hottest club.

  One more fucking interminable week. He was counting down the days. Hell, make that hours. Twenty-four times seven. Not much more than a hundred and seventy hours, he calculated after some sleepy mental arithmetic.

  He sniffed again. Still river stink and feet and bad curry.

  But only for another hundred and seventy hours or so.

  Chapter Six—Undressing Cody

  “Leave the condom off,” Mel urged as they approached the top landing. “Slide into me naked. “Let’s make it really enjoyable for you.”

  Cody carried her up the last few steps, loving the feel of her smooth skin against his chest and arms... knowing all too well how much more intensely he’d enjoy the sensation of his unsheathed cock gliding between her slick lips to hunt down his pleasure. He grabbed a deeper breath and tried to ignore her suggestion. However much he lusted after her, he couldn’t abandon the code he lived by. Any child of his would have two parents and be totally wanted by both. If he ever got that far.

  “Which way?” The house was impressive, and although he’d often visited to swim, or eat, or enjoy a football match on Rob’s huge home theatre screen, he’d never been upstairs.

  “Turn left.” She raised a hand and stroked his face.

  He caught her fingers between his teeth and bit down, holding her captive.

  “Think about what I suggested, Cody. Let’s do it properly. Skin to skin. You’d like it—you’d enjoy it so much more. And I can’t stand the thought of your lovely cock all trussed up in a little rubber raincoat.”

  Abruptly he stopped walking and released her fingers. “Not the deal, Mel. I agreed to sex. Sex for fun. Sex to scratch a mutual itch.” He gave a bitter laugh. “Not sex to get you pregnant. That’s not what I offered. I thought I made it perfectly clear.”

  ***

  Mel nodded her regretful agreement. Right now she was so turned on she’d accept whatever he’d willingly give, but she was used to getting her way—eventually, and after a carefully planned and well fought battle. She didn’t plan to lose the Mitchell/Anderson war.

  She hadn’t intended losing her heart to him, either, but she could now see that was an annoying possibility

  Sure, she enjoyed having his handsome face and long lithe body to admire at CustomAir. Had easily summoned up ‘man-in-uniform’ fantasies as he breezed in and out of the depot. And decided his lethal combination of looks and brains, and his bonus of excellent health, made him the sire she needed for the babies.

  But she hadn’t counted on his inherent gallantry, his genuine niceness, his sense of fun, the intensity of his gaze across the dinner table. Cody Mitchell was... very desirable in every way, damn him.

  Mel seriously hadn’t factored a new man into her plans; hadn’t felt the need for a permanent companion once she had children to devote herself to.

  It had never done her mother any good. Mel had barely reached her teens before it became obvious her father had ‘friends’. Cynthia had launched into her theatrical pursuits as consolation.

  Mel had expected she and Rob would reach the same accommodation; their shared interest in CustomAir the glue that held their marriage together rather than any ongoing fierce passion. Surely this yearning for Cody was only a passing novelty?

  You’re after his body, Mel, just his body, she told herself sternly as he stopped walking at the end of the wide hallway.

  “Here?” he asked, eyeing the nearly closed door.

  She reached out and pushed it open. “Right here. This is my lovely room with the incredible view and the best bed in the world. You’ll like it here.”

  ***

  Cody just knew he would. Maybe too much. Once he’d overcome his shock at being approached like a stallion with suitable bloodlines, he’d been balancing the pleasure of bedding Mel against the risk of getting romantically involved.

  Before tonight he’d hoped to enjoy her company for a date or two... see if there was any possibility they could achieve some kind of casual relationship which suited them both.

  In the past, he’d scoffed each time one of his friends deserted bachelorhood for married life. He knew with certainty he carried his irresponsible father’s genes. Cody Mitchell Senior had run miles from marriage and fatherhood. Cody Mitchell Junior was the same. Entanglement wasn’t on the radar.

  You’re only here for the sex.

  He carried Mel into the room, and, as he stepped inside, she reached for a switch beside the doorframe. Lamps on either side of the bed slowly brightened.

  Yes, it was a spectacular room. Two of the long walls were floor to ceiling glass, yet the privacy seemed absolute. One wall faced straight out over the darkly glittering harbor. The other was shielded from the neighbors by dense evergreens. He could just discern faint lights through the screen of tangled branches.

  “Great room for an exhibitionist.” He laid her down on the broad expanse of creamy bedcover.

  Mel compressed her lips. “No-one can see in—unless they’re on one of the helicopter sightseeing trips, I suppose.”

  “Or they’ve got a telescope way over on the far shore to watch the shipping. And if they have, it’ll be trained on your gorgeous cheeky ass.” Laughing, he rolled her over so any hidden watcher could get a better view of it.

 
“No-one’s looking,” she insisted. The bedding muffled her amused voice.

  “And if you thought they were? If you saw a flash from Tinakori Hill over there tomorrow morning? If you thought a telescope was being used for more than watching the boats? Hmmm?” He flipped her onto her back again. “Would that worry you? Would you still let me fuck you without closing the curtains?”

  “Is that thought turning you on, Cody Mitchell? Getting you worked up?” She reached for the front of his trousers and settled her hand around him. “Goodness, Cody—getting you worked way up. How much further can you extend that thing?”

  “Time you checked again personally.” He doubted there was any further scope for expansion. She’d had him hard beneath the table top at the restaurant, rock hard on the wharf, hard-until-detonation-point leaning into the Porsche, and half hard most of the way home as well. Playing with her while she was sprawled under the spotlight in the entrance lobby he’d reverted effortlessly to rock hard again.

  He watched as Mel sat up on the bed and moved to the edge to explore him.

  First his belt. She pushed the end out of his trouser loop and then tightened the buckle a little so she could slip the metal prong from the hole in the leather.

  She pulled the belt out through the buckle and then took her time fumbling for his zipper. Her fingers danced over him far longer than necessary, and she held his eyes with hers to let him know it was part of the game. Cody’s breath rushed out as she finally located the tab and tugged.

  She raised a suggestive eyebrow as she drew his zipper oh so slowly down and caressed him through his slippery boxers. “How do you think that’s going to feel inside me, Cody? If you’re bare-naked? Sliding in while I hold myself tight for you? Rubbing against my G-spot and all the little ridges and ripples?”

  He had no trouble at all imagining how it would feel. Sensational. Incredible.

  “I know what’s up there,” she continued. “I know it would feel so good for you...”

  Finally she let his pants shimmy to the floor.