Sexy Love (Sexy Series Book 4)

by Dani Lovell

  He has barely been down there thirty seconds and I’m writhing in discomfort, desperately trying to hold back the climax. And he seems to know where I’m at, too, because just when I think I can’t take any more, he slows and rises to his knees.

  He gazes at me, there’s a look in his eyes; it’s undeniably solely sexual, their shape is more almond than usual, and the point at which the pupil meets the iris is almost blurred. If he were an animal, this would be the look of hungry determination before he pounces on his prey. Oh God. Pounce!

  He’s not being friendly; he’s not smiling, but as I notice his hand slowly move downwards to his groin, the corner of his mouth twitches ever so slightly into an aroused smirk. He might look angry or serious right now, but I can see through that. He’s enjoying every damn second.

  As he takes hold of himself in his fist, I watch. His hand slowly gliding his skin backwards, exposing his end, and then slipping forwards again to partially cover it.

  Watching a man touch himself like this, manipulating himself, it’s definitely something I’ve always enjoyed. It’s not something that most of the men I’ve been with have been forthcoming about doing, unless I’ve asked, and I learnt that they were always a little perturbed by my interest.

  To begin with, I think it fascinated me because I wanted to be the best that I could be, pleasuring a man with my hand, so I thought, what better way to learn, than to observe the person who knows a cock better than anyone; a man. Then, it became something I found thoroughly arousing when one guy I was with became excited by my excitement. From then, I’ve always been keen, but never forward.

  I lick my lips hungrily, my eyes firmly on his dick, and I lower my bent legs to the bed, ensuring I have the best possible view. I know he’s looking at me, and I like that he wants to see me as I watch him harden further.

  He’s as stiff as a board and his end is round, hard and more than ready as he holds his hand at the base for a few seconds, his full, rigid length exposed.

  My breathing deepens, my stomach rising and falling quickly with the excitement, and slowly, he edges each leg forwards at my sides, his cock still hard in his hand, crawling along my body. He doesn’t stop when he gets to my waist, and I know, immediately, what he wants. Yes.

  I look up at his face, that sexual look intensified, and I smile, his dirty eyes thrilling me fantastically.

  He approaches my face, straddling my chest, and I gently wrap my hand around him, evoking his deep, remedying sigh. He releases himself, handing over the reins, as he drops his head backwards, his mouth ajar.

  I’m in my element, holding him tightly and rhythmically dragging my hand back and forth around him, making sure the tip of my thumb grazes his eager juice and brushes the knot at the back of his tip.

  He groans and looks down as I worship his manhood, before sloping his pelvis towards my head and stretching his arms in front of him to hold himself against the headboard. I reach out with my tongue and firmly lick the end, still caressing him with my hand.

  With the other hand, I reach between his legs and cup his soft, hot ball-sack, gently tugging at the skin. “Holy fuck,” he whispers.

  “Shh!” I respond, harshly, secretly smirking.

  Toying with the loose skin and still squeezing his length, I lower him once again to my mouth, and cover the head with my lips as I increase my speed around him, effectively jerking him into my mouth. It sounds unromantic… in fact it really is unromantic, but it’s fucking hot, and we’re not in love, so who cares?

  “Jesus, baby…” he cries, his hips rotating, gently pushing himself inside my mouth. I am okay with this, as long as he keeps it gentle; I’m not one for partaking in face fucking. But he’s careful; he’s maintaining control and staying in the shallow end.

  I continue to pleasure him in this way for a few more minutes, before he finds it hard to continue without coming on my tongue, and although I’d be okay with that – he wants more.

  He shuffles backwards and grabs a condom from his pants pocket at the end of the bed, and quickly slips it on. He immediately lowers his groin to mine, wasting no time, and once positioned, he pushes into me, hard and fast. I cry out and arch off the bed, relishing the way he fills me, a lot quicker than expected.

  He moves smoothly, grinding deeply inside me, and it’s clear to both of us that this won’t be a long session of passionate lovemaking, but a short and intense moment of erotic satisfaction for us both. One might call it a morning wood burner, or just a quick hard screw

  He looks down at me as he thrusts, concentration etched on his face, and he shakes his head. “I can’t hold out, Lex.”

  I grip his buttocks with both hands and nod. “Uh huh, good, harder.” I demand, and his frown intensifies.

  “You coming?” he asks, pained, and I shake my head in response. I’m enjoying this thoroughly, but his pleasure is what’s doing it for me right now.

  “No, I just want to feel you come, I want to see it on your face.”

  “Fuck,” he groans, slamming into me ferociously, repeatedly, and I feel his release immediately, his thickness pulsating within.

  He cries out, his glazed eyes fixed on my face, and he shudders as he attempts to slowly wind down.

  “Whoa,” he says, shaking his head and coming to. “That was great, thanks.” He leans down and kisses my forehead before climbing off me, quickly. He seems to be in a rush.

  I remain still for a short while, watching as he moves around my room to find his clothes, feeling like I’ve just been used. But I’m probably over-thinking it. I clear my throat and sit up, straightening my nightgown. My clock tells me it’s five minutes to six; the very quick session didn’t make me late, thankfully.

  Not a word is coming from the guy on a mission to get out. So I start. “Um, would you like to use the shower?”

  “No, I’m good,” he says. “Thank you.” An afterthought. Am I detecting a fuck ‘n’ leave situation here? Yes, I am.

  “Okay,” I say as I stand and walk to the closet. I slip my arms into the welcoming, cool silk of my gown and tie the belt into a bow, before running my fingers through my hair. I feel awkward standing here looking at him as he fumbles to get all of his clothes on.

  I decide to leave, he’s acting oddly and I’m not going to stand by and observe. “Coffee?” I ask out of politeness, but I already know his answer.

  “I’m good, thanks. I’m just gonna get going. Early meeting,” he yells from the bedroom as I walk, dismissively to the kitchen.

  “Yeah.”

  I prepare the coffee machine and take the cup from the cupboard, spoon from the drawer, and generally potter as I usually do in the morning. Am I just being overly sensitive? Am I looking into things too much, the way some girls do after they have sex? Who knows? Maybe Sebastian isn’t acting strangely at all; maybe it is normal to jump up straight after early morning copulation to get ready to leave. I can’t say I’ve had an awful lot of ‘casual coitus’ to know what’s what. Maybe it’s normal for a guy not to want to use a girl’s shower or hang around for coffee…

  Maybe I expect too much friendliness from a guy after we’ve shown each other our private parts, though he wasn’t like this in Aspen, he wanted to hang around after we did those things. We didn’t have work that morning, though, so maybe that’s why.

  What am I doing? Alexia Rose Berkeley, pull yourself together, woman. Be in charge. Act like a lady and think like a boss… and all that.

  I take a deep breath and finish making the coffee, agreeing with my inner-leader to take back the control. I do not fret about guys’ behaviour, least of all, Sebastian Love’s.

  He walks towards me in the hallway as I leave the kitchen with my cup. He smiles, almost patronisingly, angering me somewhat. “Sexy Lexie, last night was incredible. We will definitely do it again.” He holds the tops of my arms and kisses my forehead again before continuing his journey to the door. “I’ll call you,” he shouts, and as if by magic – poof! He’s gone.

 
What an ass.

  I make a very conscious, very ‘Alexia’ decision to forget about it. I did nothing wrong, he was in a hurry to get to work and was too preoccupied to rein in his rudeness. It’s fine. I can’t forget that he’s the same Sebastian Love that I couldn’t stand, not that long ago – there was a reason for that.

  It’s not a gym day today so I can get ready in relative comfort knowing that I don’t need to hurry. I turn on the shower and walk back through the bedroom to open the balcony door to let some fresh, morning air into this hot, stuffy bedroom. That unsavoury, claustrophobic sex smell hit me as soon as I re-entered the room with my coffee. I have never understood why people like that smell; it’s not remotely sexy.

  I thoroughly enjoy my hot shower, I’m very specific about personal hygiene and as much as I love a long and hot sex session, I have to wash it off at the earliest possible convenience. And there’s not a lot better than stepping out of the shower and into a thick, towelling robe, wet hair - brushed, and squeaky-clean face - moisturised, first thing in the morning.

  The breeze gently wafts in through the balcony doors as I sit at the vanity to dry my hair and apply my make-up, the birds are singing in the nearby trees and the sunshine is beaming in. It’s a perfect morning, not counting the sore vagina.

  However dickish Sebastian was this morning, I still had a fantastic evening with him last night, after such a wonderful day with Bea and Tilly. Speaking of whom, I wonder what messages I’ll have on my phone from a teasing Tilly, questioning me about last night’s activities. I smile at the thought; she does amuse me.

  I walk to my purse in the hallway and take out my cell, switching it on, and just as I had expected, there waiting, is a text message from Tilly, and I laugh out loud when I read it.

  ~

  SUMMERS, TILLY

  iMessage

  Today 5:14

  I’m up with the offspring and desperate to hear what went down, I just KNOW you’ve been a dirty little bitch! Did you get a good old servicing or what? Don’t go all ‘Alexia’ on me now – give me the goss! xx

  ~

  ~

  Today 6:54

  Good morning, Tilly. You always have such a wonderful way with words ;-). I had a very pleasant evening, thank you, after a really lovely day with you and Bea. We should meet up for lunch this week. Lex xx

  Delivered

  ~

  I continue to get ready, not expecting a response because I know she’ll probably have taken Emily back to bed for another couple of hours after her very early message.

  ~~~~~~~

  At five minutes past eight, I walk through the already bustling office with the professionalism and poise of every day, only today, I’m secretly fretting about whether or not the staff can tell that I had a good, hard fucking in the gym last night.

  Is it normal to think like this? Is it normal to assume that if I have sex, everybody knows every detail just by looking at me? I’m sure it’s not. Maybe it’s because I don’t do it that much… out of a relationship, anyway.

  By the time I get to my office, I practically break down the door to get in and shield myself behind my four, beautiful walls, where nobody can detect the ‘sex’.

  Good God, I hope no one can tell. I’d never let on to anybody that I’m feeling insecure about anything, I mean – come on, I’m entitled to have some sex every now and again, but the thought of my professional image being marred because the employees somehow found out that I am, in fact, the girl who fucks men - dangling from monkey bars in a public place… oh dear Lord, I must stop thinking. H.B. employees aren’t talking, Dad isn’t going to think you’re a whore and nobody knows!

  It takes a few minutes, another coffee and a long, examining, yet, reassuring conversation with my assistant, Hannah, (giving nothing away, of course) to feel better about the whole situation and realise how insane I really am.

  Starting work is a welcome distraction, and as I ask Hannah to send through my schedule for the week, my cell pings on my desk and the screen notification informs me that it’s Tilly. I take my phone in my hand and sit back in my chair, smiling as I open it.

  ~

  SUMMERS, TILLY

  iMessage

  Today 8:47

  OH PULEEEEEASE – that was not an appropriate response. Fine, if you’re not going to tell me by text, then you’re telling me in person. Lunch – today. I’ll see you at your office at 1. Bea’s out, so it’ll just be the small one and me. K? XX

  ~

  Grinning at her manner, I respond.

  ~

  Today 8:49

  I’m really busy today and I already have a lunch meeting to squeeze in, can you do tomorrow? X

  Delivered

  ~

  ~

  SUMMERS, TILLY

  iMessage

  Today 8:49

  Nope ;-)

  ~

  I sigh, shaking my head.

  ~

  Today 8:50

  Okay – let me see what I can do. You’re spoiled, anyone ever tell you that?

  Delivered

  ~

  ~

  SUMMERS, TILLY

  iMessage

  Today 8:50

  All the time. I’ll bring lunch to your office so it’s less hassle. Can’t wait, see you later, monkey nuts xx

  ~

  Not something I’ve been called before, I’ll have to remember that one.

  Having successfully rescheduled my lunch meeting - luckily it was with members of my department and not a client – I get to work for a few hours, recalling last night every time I move in my chair – it really has been too long if I’m this sore after just one night of passion.

  ~~~~~~~

  My intercom buzzes and Tilly knocks on my door just as I complete a file I’ve been working on for the majority of the morning. Her head pokes around the door. “Only me, are you decent?”

  “I’m at work so I hope so.”

  “You never know,” she says, slipping in with her giant baby bag, a gorgeous looking Emily and a picnic basket. I rush to help her, taking the beautiful child.

  She’s wearing the most adorable little pastel blue dress with white tights covering her chubby little legs and a pair of black, patent leather ballet shoes. She has just enough blonde curls to wear cute little pigtails.

  “Well don’t you just look exquisite, huh?” I ask, kissing her soft, rosy little cheek as she grabs my blouse collar in her hand.

  “Auntie Clare sent that little ensemble over, we got it yesterday, isn’t it gorge?” Tilly says.

  “Gorge,” I respond in my best British accent. Which, for the record, is just horrible.

  “Anyway, enough about that, I’m here to talk about sex.”

  I gasp and attempt to cover little Emily’s ear. “Sh!”

  “Oh, stop, she has no idea what I’m talking about.”

  She begins to empty the contents of her basket onto the coffee table by the couches in the corner of the office by the large window. “I brought Caesar salad, garlic and chilli king prawns, some fresh bread even though I know you won’t eat it - so Em and I will just polish that off; these cute little bottles of wine,” she says, waving them in the air and scrunching her nose up in excitement. “Um… sparkling water, goat cheese and some of my famous panna cotta and strawbs for dessert. That alright for you, doll?”

  “Wow, that sounds…” I walk over to the table, “…and looks - delicious.”

  “Great – can you hold her for a second longer while I set her up a play area on the floor?”

  “Sure!”

  I bounce up and down with the baby on my hip, pulling funny faces, which clearly amuse Emily to no end, while Tilly pulls a fabulously colourful blanket from her baby bag and lays it on the floor, along with a huge selection of toys.

  She takes the baby and sits her down in the fun zone, while we move to the coffee table.

  “So!” she says, breaking some bread and cutting a generous slice of soft goat cheese.
“I need to know everything. I know the pair of you got down to business so let’s not pretend you didn’t.”

  “How do you know that?” I ask, perturbed.

  “I just know, Lex. I can tell.”

  “How? How can you tell? Can other people tell? Has someone told you something?”

  “Whoa, slow down, ‘paranoia’. Nobody told me anything, nobody knows anything – I just know you and I know from your responses that you got a good, hard rogering last night, just like I told you to. So come on – juicy goss.”

  Phew. “Well, okay. Yes – we had a little fun.”

  “A little fun? You can do better than that. I can see I’m going to have to ask all of the questions, so I’ll start now. Yours or his?”

  “Place?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Mine.”

  “Hmm, interesting. Bedroom?”

  “Um…” This is awkward.

  “Okay, were any of the times in your bedroom?”

  “Yes, one.”

  “This morning?”

  “Yes! How do you know that?” I cry out, almost choking on a shrimp.

  “I’m good. So how many times were there? I’d say… two or three.”