by Kris Pearson
How bad could it be after surviving the fire? After finding the courage to bath with him? After letting him do what he’d just done? Looking at sexy pictures had to be easier than any of those things, surely?
She pressed her thighs together. The faint echoes of hot ecstasy still pulsed deep inside. She’d never expected him to kiss her and suck her like that with his beautiful mouth. It had been so intimate, so shattering, so blissful. Far better than she’d ever imagined.
How had it felt for him? And would he expect her to do it in return? She bit her bottom lip. What would he taste like? Could she do it at all?
Sliding the top drawer out, she grabbed the book. Then she retrieved the candle and left, closing the door tightly again. The horror of the fire receded a little, but her heart still thumped as she thought about the hours left in the night.
Anton had mounded the pillows behind him and pulled the duvet up. And he’d switched on the lamp by his bed.
He looks like a sultan waiting for a harem girl to join him. That would be me.
Shy in the brighter light, she set down her candle in a hurry, clutched a hand across her breasts, and lowered the book to hide her groin.
He grinned at her discomfort. “No point trying to hide what I’ve already touched and tasted.”
Her eyes skidded away from his amused gaze and peered around the bedroom.
Where’s his towel? Has he taken it off? Is he naked now?
Panic flooded through her, and she thrust the book at him, dived under the duvet, and pulled the fabric up across her breasts. Where had her bathroom bravado gone?
Anton reached out a long arm, drew her close, and cradled her against his chest. Covertly she took a long slow breath and sniffed his scent in. He smelled warmly and mysteriously of more than soap and clean sheets, and his skin felt so personal against her face. “You smell nice,” she murmured, hating that she didn’t sound confident and sexy.
The muscles in his chest flexed, and when she flicked a glance upward, she found him smiling down at her. He dropped a kiss on her brow and tightened his hand against her arm. A brief flare of panic hit her and she closed her eyes, trying to will it away.
He’s so much bigger than me. So much stronger. What if he won’t stop if I ask him to?
He moved further, and her eyes flew open again, but he was simply reaching out for the book.
“Now, Ms Rivers,” he began. “Let’s see why you think this is rude. Because none of it’s rude, baby. We can do any of it or none of it. Your choice.” He opened the book at random and propped it up with one hand. “Can you hold the other side?” he asked.
She reached out unwillingly to steady it. Anton tipped it further toward the light. The soft pencil illustration showed a man lying face down on a bed, and a woman sitting on his thighs. Jetta breathed out slowly. That wasn’t too bad. The man was naked, but apart from the swell of his butt, nothing scary showed. The woman leaned her weight onto his shoulders, kneading and massaging him.
Jetta bit her bottom lip and kept her eyes on the page. It wasn’t like they were real people. Well—not photographed people anyway. The drawing made it easier to look, somehow. And the woman was beautiful, her face softly absorbed as though she really loved the man. Her breasts were full, and a little droopy because of the angle of her body.
I could do that to Anton.
“Turn the page?” he asked. She obeyed, and embarrassment flooded her. This time the man lay face-up, and his pubic hair was finely detailed all around his big erect cock. She slammed her eyelids down, and when she heard Anton’s chuckle she cracked them open again.
“Is it him or her that worries you?” he asked.
“Why would it be her?” She looked again. “Oh…” Prickles of sensation rushed through her breasts. The woman was bending forward and the man sucked at one of her nipples while his fingers played with the other.
As she absorbed the details of the drawing, Anton’s hand deserted her arm and moved to her breast. His thumb found her nipple and rubbed to and fro. She gasped at the unsettling sensation as her flesh puckered tightly.
Oh God—that’s lovely. Will he suck me again?
He kissed her hair, and continued to brush over the sensitive peak.
Turned on but still nervous, she attempted to flip the page over. It fell back into place. It seemed there was no escaping that sexed-up man.
“Sit on me, like you did in the bath,” Anton suggested. “Let’s do what they’re doing.”
“But—” her eyes flicked back to the drawing of the big erect cock.
“You’ve seen one of those before.” The corners of his mouth curled up in a teasing grin.
She huffed out a short annoyed sigh. “Yes, but not one I liked.”
“You felt mine pressed against you in bed last night, and in the bath. You didn’t get spooked like this.”
She gulped in a deep breath and released it again, trying to relax. “I couldn’t see it. That made it easier somehow.”
He nodded briefly. “Okay, we’ll keep me hidden.”
Relief flooded through her, and the shiny book cover slid from her hands and landed on the floor with a thump. “Sorry,” she gasped, wriggling over to retrieve it.
Anton twisted, placing a firm hand on her shoulder as she reached down. He kissed her spine, smoothing his fingers out along her arm, back up to her shoulder. “Beautiful,” he murmured, releasing her just before she went into full panic mode. “Hop up,” he added, pulling her upright, grabbing her around the waist, and lifting so she had no option but to land on him.
She squeaked, clutched the book tightly, and tried to hit him with it. He evaded her easily, blue eyes twinkling with sexy challenge.
The duvet was still tucked around her hips, but she now sat on curly hair and a rod of smooth hot flesh. She didn’t dare glance down, knowing she’d be able to see far too much with the light from the bedside lamp falling across his belly. Did he look as big and scary as the man in the book did? She attempted to scramble away, but Anton held her on his lap with steely hands.
“Get to know him,” he whispered. “You might like him after a while.”
She pouted at his amused face, refusing to look down. Then she tossed the book onto the far side of the duvet.
“You might like some more of this, too,” he added, moving his hands up from her waist to her breasts. He brushed his thumbs over her nipples, making them contract until they were pebble-hard and thrumming with sensation. He held her gaze as he stroked and rubbed
We’re just like that drawing now. What if I moved up a bit higher? Would he slide in?
She squirmed with barely leashed hunger, pressing down on him, craving more.
“Whoa!” Anton exclaimed, staring up at her.
“I think it would be all right now,” she said in a small voice.
“I was hoping for better than ‘all right’.”
She drew a deep breath and held his gaze. “It’s way better than that. I can’t stay still.” Pink embarrassment flooded her cheeks as she ground against him suggestively.
Anton grinned at her eagerness. “You can’t even bear to look at me,” he teased. “You’re nowhere near ready yet.”
“I can look at you. I want to look at you.” She steeled herself and glanced downward, and the blush grew warmer. “Oh my God. You look just like the man in the book!”
“What were you expecting, babe?” His query contained amusement and a definite note of strain.
“Well… um…”
He stretched out an arm and grabbed a condom from beside the lamp. “Are you brave enough to help with this?”
Jetta swallowed, and said, “Yes, of course I am,” with much more confidence than she felt. She took the shiny packet from him and tore it open, then looked doubtfully at the contents.
Anton sighed, pulled her close, and kissed her long and deep while he sheathed himself. “Wriggle all you like now,” he murmured. “You’re in charge.” He lay back with his arms pillowi
ng his head, taut golden body half-shadowed in the lamplight.
Jetta inched a little higher up his thighs, looking her fill at his muscular arms, his beautiful shoulders, his lean waist and hips. Then she bent over, smoothing her face along his skin the way she’d yearned to the night she’d found him asleep.
Anton caught his breath.
Did he like that? She kissed his chest, stroked his nipples, ran her fingers over his hard abs. And pushed down to intensify the sensation of him pressing exactly where he’d licked her. Unable to hold still, she rotated her hips and he flexed. He closed his vivid blue eyes. Maybe because he was enjoying it too?
She rocked to and fro, rubbing and sliding, and delicious ripples of heat and pleasure pulsed where their bodies met.
“Up,” he grated, desire lending desperation to his voice as he bucked his hips against her. When she sank down again he held himself on the perfect angle, and she inched him just inside, cautiously further, triumphantly all the way home until he was seated deep.
She collapsed down onto his chest, groaning at his full glorious invasion. “We’ve done it,” she gasped, almost sobbing with relief.
He laughed, and his arms held her safe as he rolled a half-turn on the big bed and reared up over her.
“Ya reckon?” he asked, blue eyes wicked. And then he started to move.
Chapter Fourteen — Desire and Devastation
Jetta tried to hold still so he could do what he wanted, but that… slipping… sliding… sensation was impossible not to react to. Anton had switched on her internal fairy lights. Her nerve endings twinkled and sparkled as he pushed slowly in, as he held her gaze with his, as he closed his eyes as though it felt good for him too, as he pulled slowly out again until he almost slipped free.
“No—come back!” she insisted, panicked.
His blue eyes snapped open and a smile curled at the corners of his mouth.
“Not going anywhere,” he whispered, hovering over her for a few seconds as she willed him to do it again.
Then he pushed down, and again her nerves did the brilliant pinpoints of light thing deep inside.
“Still okay?” He started to ease back out again.
“Yes. Amazing… ooohhh….” She buried her teeth in her bottom lip as he slid past somewhere incredibly good.
“Don’t want to hurt you or spook you.”
“Not hurting me,” she assured him. “Not spooking me. Is it nice for you too?”
He shook his head as he changed direction again. “Not nice. So much better than nice.”
She groaned as he pushed deep.
“Awful job, but someone’s gotta do it,” he teased, nuzzling her neck and, dropping small kisses along her jaw line.
“I’m glad it’s you,” she said, searching for his lips, finding them, clinging as he picked up the pace. She eased her thighs further apart, loving the weight of him, the smoothness of his back as she clutched him close, the tickly roughness of his chest hair against her breasts.
Relief flooded all through her. Relief that she’d done it at last. Relief that it felt so good. She wriggled against him to get nearer, nearer, as he thrust into her, setting up ever-stronger ripples of sensation. The kiss grew hotter, tongues twining and dancing.
Holding him in her arms didn’t feel like enough. She wrapped her legs around him, too, urging him to plunge deeper and faster as the kiss became ever more desperate.
They broke apart only when their mutual need for oxygen became critical. “Remember the book?” Anton panted. “With the man underneath? I want you like that. Yes?”
“Yes,” she gasped, rubbing her face over his shoulder, dragging her lips along his skin.
“Hold tight.” He knelt up, pulling her with him, the strength of his big body barely challenged.
In seconds she sat astride him, smiling down at his satisfied grin, watching his chest rise and fall as his breathing calmed. His gaze slid down to her breasts.
“Beautiful,” he whispered, as he reached for her. “Come here.” And he drew her down as though she was the Joy of Sex woman. He stretched up to capture one pink peak with his lips, and Jetta slowly relaxed, leaning lower with a blissful sigh. His hot mouth teased and sucked, pulling at her nipple until it felt long and sexy. His fingers tweaked the other one, rolling and pulling, sending urgent messages deep inside her.
The fairy lights inside switched to double-speed twinkle, and, unable to stay still, she began to ride him. Slowly her confidence grew, and the heavenly sensation intensified. Anton deserted her nipple and pulled her down for another passionate kiss, bucking up into her with long smooth strokes.
“Babes, that is so good,” he groaned, before clamping his mouth around her other nipple and reaching between their bodies to caress her clit with his thumb. Drowning in pleasure, she followed where he led until her internal muscles fluttered and clenched around him and her sharp cries of ecstasy blended with his hoarse gasps of release.
*
Jetta stretched blissfully as the Saturday sunlight spilled across the bed. Her skin brushed against Anton’s warm body. The bones in her spine and her fingers popped and settled back into place with satisfied glides. God—she felt amazing!
“Where do you think you’re going?” he mumbled.
“Nowhere,” she said, curling herself against his back, snuggling closer, and sliding an arm around his waist. “Again?” she exclaimed, as her hand bumped against his impressive morning erection. She wrapped her fingers around it.
“Are you begging or complaining?”
“I’m appreciating...”
“Hmmmmmm...”
She smiled at his sleepy response, not at all surprised he wasn’t leaping into immediate action. He’d brought her alive the night before in ways she’d never suspected possible. Time and again he’d murmured ‘let me’ and she’d relaxed, and trusted, and been pushed over the brink as he showed her how wonderful making love could be.
Making love? Her fingers stopped their suggestive massage.
Sex. They’d had sex. That was all it was. Love didn’t enter into the equation. Couldn’t possibly. He was just an unexpected housemate who’d been there when she’d needed a warm body to cling to.
To block out the hideous memories of the fire.
To block out the hideous memories of Uncle Graham.
To love, her brain insisted.
To love for a week in secret, maybe.
“Why’ve you stopped?” he asked.
She kissed his shoulder, breathing in his scent. “Thought you wanted to sleep,” she murmured.
“With you doing that? Not a hope, little girl!”
And suddenly he loomed over her again, blocking out the sun—all muscles and stubble and glorious masculine challenge.
*
He’s the enemy, she thought an hour later as he strode across the bare earth where the house at number seventeen had recently stood. He’s stealing my house and now he’s stealing my heart.
She heaved a huge sigh and shook her head, weary from lack of sleep and the constant turmoil in her brain. Yes, he was the enemy, but such a charming and desirable one. He’d cut the ground from under her and swept all her qualms out of the way as thoroughly as the roaring machine was pushing the rich topsoil aside on the property next door.
The driver halted at Anton’s approach and she heard conversation being shouted over the engine’s noisy idle. Anton planted his hands on his hips, then dropped to a squat to examine something. The blue denim stretched tight around his butt, and she stood on at the window a little longer, enjoying the view.
The big tattooed driver clambered down and the two men paced further across the dark bulldozed ground together, stopping now and then to kick at the earth. Even from this distance, she could tell Anton was furious about something.
Ten minutes later, he returned and toed off his dirt-encrusted boots at the back door. Whatever had made him angry was huge. The tension in his jaw threw the tendons of his neck into sharp rel
ief. His eyes were no longer the blue of a lake under summer sky; now they crackled with the cold blue-grey of shadows in icy crevasses. And as for his mouth—who would dare kiss that down-turned slash? Not her. “Coffee?” she asked.
He shook his head, barely glancing at her. “I need to get away from this place for a while,” he snapped. “Do you want to try for brunch at one of the cafés around the bays?”
Well, at least she was included—but did she really want to be if he was acting so strangely?
“Okay, yes. And I need to pick up my dry cleaning. I got them to do it at the overnight urgent rate.”
Anton nodded, plainly miles away.
She summoned up some courage. After last night, she could face most things. Even him in a foul mood. “Can I help with whatever it is?”
Her only answer was a muttered curse and a surly shake of his head as he strode from the room.
He was no more communicative over brunch, stabbing at his eggs and hash browns as though he’d rather kill them than eat them. Jetta drizzled maple syrup over her pancakes, and drew patterns in it with her fork—far from hungry, and full of dread and curiosity.
Finally, Anton abandoned his meal with a clatter of cutlery against his stoneware plate and lounged back, one elbow hooked over the corner of his chair-back.
“Is it me?” Jetta asked. “Because we don’t have to do it again.”
His eyes shot to hers. The faintest glimmer of a smile played about his gorgeous lips. “Damn,” he said. “The thought of more fun with you is the only bright spot in my day right now. No, it’s not you.”
She pressed her lips together. Was that all he was going to tell her?
“Will you eat any more?” he asked, surveying her stack of hacked-about pancakes. “You seem about as hungry as me.”
“Not hungry at all,” she said. “Whatever’s wrong?”
He drew a deep, deep breath. “Come for a walk. Walls have ears...”
Mystified, she followed him out into the salty air. He reached for her hand, and for once seemed happy to saunter at her slower pace rather than dashing along with his usual energy.
“It’s definitely not you,” he said, rasping his other hand over his stubbly chin. “It’s the project, but I didn’t want the least chance of anyone overhearing.”
