Secret Confessions: Sydney Housewives - Darla

by Tracey O’Hara

  Julian had never gone down on her, yet still expected her to suck his cock. The thought of Julian was a splash of cold water until she forcibly pushed him out of her mind. Julian was no longer her concern. Who was Julian, when this man, this real man, played her so well?

  “Hunter,” she whispered as he plaved her sex, probing inside her with his tongue. Blood pounded in her ears as the pressure began to build in her pussy.

  “Hunter,” she said a little louder, tossing her head back as she began to climb the peak.

  “Hunter,” she screamed as the orgasm ripped through her, shattering her body into a million tiny shards of pure ecstasy.

  He kissed her pussy. Kissed her like he would her mouth. Aftershock after pleasurable aftershock rippled through her.

  She’d come. But it wasn’t enough. She wanted to taste him, touch him, as much as he had her. But more than anything, she wanted to feel him deep inside her. The deeper the better.

  “Fuck me,” she whispered, reaching for the zipper on his jeans. “I really need you to fuck me.”

  Never in all her life had she ever said anything so shameless. So dirty. But she was too far gone to care.

  His face fell. “I don’t have a condom. I wasn’t actually planning this.”

  She sank back into the warm leather, not knowing if it pissed her or pleased her that he wasn’t someone who carried around protection for easy access.

  “Wait,” she sat forward, brightening. “I have.”

  She leapt from the sofa, completely naked, and dragged him into the kitchen by his hand to where her handbag sat on the counter. He closed in behind her as she fumbled with the zipper of the bag, pressing his hardness against the small of her back as he swept her hair away from her neck and kissed the side of her throat. The other hand traced along her hip, travelling up over her flat stomach, and cupped her breast.

  After a few minutes searching she dumped the contents of her handbag onto the counter in frustration. The hopeful box of condoms still in the chemist’s bag fell onto the white marble countertop.

  Hunter groaned and reached around her. “Let me.”

  She tried to turn, but he stopped her by leaning in and pressing her into the counter. “Stay there, just like that.” He whispered against her ear.

  Darla’s core clenched. If he didn’t fuck her soon, she was going to explode. He stepped back and she heard the rasp of a zipper, the rustle of denim over skin, and the crinkle of the tiny plastic condom packet being ripped opened. The soundtrack of anticipation excited her more than seeing it happen.

  Then he was touching her again. Running his fingers down her spine, gently cupping and squeezing her buttocks, pulling them apart so he could run his thumbs over her crease.

  “Red, you have the nicest arse I’ve ever seen.”

  Hardly words to seduce a girl, yet they were the sexiest things she’d ever heard. She was done with men saying what they thought she wanted to hear. Empty platitudes espousing her virtues. This was straight from the heart, or at least another major organ. “You say the sweetest things, now fuck me already.” Again she was almost shocked at the filth coming out of her mouth.

  His low chuckle rumbled behind her. “You know, Red, I love it when you talk dirty.”

  “Hunter!” She practically screamed at him with exasperation.

  Gently he parted her legs and ran his hand down the cleft of her arse. The head of his cock rubbed against her clit, gently kissing her opening.

  “You sure you want this?” he asked, moving his cock in ever so slightly.

  “Yes,” Darla panted, pushing back against him. But he pulled back with her.

  “Really sure?” he teased, nudging her with the head of his cock again.

  “Hunter, please,” she begged. “I need you in me.”

  He groaned and with a thrust of his hips, he filled her. Darla braced her hands on the counter and pushed back to meet him. He groaned again and stilled. She could feel him. Deep. His length buried, throbbing inside. He lay his chest against her back, his breath caressing her ear. “Don’t move,” he whispered, stroking the skin along her side. “You move and it will be all over.”

  The phone rang. They froze. After a moment it stopped and beeped the arrival of a message. Neither of them said a word for almost a whole minute. It was like they had been caught out. Sprung fooling around. Almost like they were doing something they weren’t supposed too. The illicitness turned her on.

  She didn’t want stop. She didn’t want him to stop and stayed perfectly still, deliciously stretched around him and a little bit afraid he might withdraw. He didn’t and started to rock against her. Small, miniscule thrusts at first. Barely movements at all, as if testing the water. Slowly getting stronger. Longer. Pulling out and plunging in again. The head of his cock moved deeper each time, brushing forward against that spot. That special spot. The spot that would soon be her undoing if he kept this up.

  With each thrust the pressure built, growing unbelievably heavy in her womb. She closed her eyes. Concentrated on what was fast becoming the centre of her mass until all at once he shattered her for a second time today, this time stronger and longer than she ever thought possible.

  Never before had she had an orgasm from penetration alone. She rode the waves of aftershocks, drowning in the delicious sensations.

  Hunter pulled out and turned her to face him. “I want to see your face when I make you come again.”

  “I don’t think I can,” she panted, lost in his intense gaze.

  “Oh,” he said and planted a quick kiss on her lips. “You will.”

  He picked her up, and pushed her back against the large stainless steel fridge. The cool metal almost burned her skin, but it didn’t take long to forget any discomfort as he buried himself in her again. Bracing her arse with his large hands, he thrust once and bent to cover her mouth with his as he thrust again. Darla went into sensation overload. The base of his cock ground against her already sensitive clitoris. The man had serious skills.

  Unbelievably, another orgasm started to build as his rhythm increased. She arched her back, tilting her pelvis to meet him with every drive of his cock into her opening. Her thighs gripped his waist, and her legs trembled as the orgasm rushed over her. He pulled away from the kiss and watched her intently. When the tremors subsided, Hunter sped his thrusts until, with a heavy moan, he buried himself deep and shuddered against her. Holding her tight through his own aftershock, he buried his face against the crook of her neck.

  “You have no idea how long I wanted to do that,” he said, his hot breath searing the skin of her throat.

  It’d been nearly two years since Julian left her. “Then why haven’t you?”

  He pulled out, allowing her feet to drop to the floor, but he stayed close, his eyes sad. “First you had just broken up with Julian. The scandal of him leaving you for his pregnant mistress was so public. You seemed so fragile and I didn’t want you on the rebound. I wanted to give you time to heal.

  Darla nodded and drained the last of the wine out of her glass. “Julian’s betrayal stung so much. To have a child with another woman when he refused to even discuss the topic with me was the biggest slap in the face.”

  Hunter’s expression turned thoughtful. “Look at it this way. At least you are totally free of him. Nothing to tie you together.”

  Darla felt lighter. Not only had her sexual itch been scratched, she’d had the first deep and meaningful conversation with a man in longer than she could remember. If she wasn’t careful, she could really fall for Hunter Davis.

  Darla’s phone beeped. “Sorry,” she said reaching for it. There were two messages. The newer one was a text from her brother telling her she didn’t need to come to the stables tomorrow. Excellent. Sleep in.

  The other was a notification she had voicemail from Virginia. She accessed it. “Something’s come up and I can’t make it over tonight,” her friends voice said, “but I have organised everything with the caterer and you don’t have to
do a thing.” There was a murmur of a male voice followed by a muffled Virginia laughingly telling someone to stop it. Then she was back on the line. “I’ll be there early on Thursday to help you set up. See you then.”

  “How about we take this wine upstairs and you can show me what else you can do,” she said after she hung up, taking a risk he might say no.

  He didn’t. He just grinned, picked up the bottle and followed her up the stairs.

  ***

  Darla swam in a dream of warm kisses running up her spine. Memory of what she’d done last night not only played on her mind, but also played on her body with a delicious ache.

  “Morning,” a deep male voice whispered in her ear as he reached around to caress her breast, gently rolling her nipple with his thumb and forefinger. His erection pressed against her hip. What a way to wake up.

  She turned onto her back and smiled up at him. “Good morning,” she said and frowned. It was still dark outside. “What time is it?”

  “Four-thirty,” he whispered.

  “We’ve only been asleep for a couple of hours,” she murmured sleepily.

  His grin widened. “I know. But I promised Rosco I would meet him for a surf this morning. You could come if you want.”

  “And leave this nice warm bed?” She stretched, putting her left breast within easy reach. He obliged her, taking her taut dusky pink flesh into his mouth and sucked. Desire blossomed between her legs and she moaned.

  “You wicked temptress,” he said, only half jokingly as he hovered above her. “You make me want to forget my obligations and the call of the waves.”

  She wiggled closer, wrapping her arms around his neck, pulling him down to her mouth. He growled again before he broke off the kiss. “On second thoughts, you stay right where you are. I’m not going to be able to concentrate with you there.” He let her go and reached for his jeans beside the bed. He pulled them on, trying to trap his hard cock behind denim, and then left the zipper. “Stay right there. I’ll be back in a few hours and we can take a look at that storm damage.”

  Darla stretched again and rolled back onto her stomach, giving him a perfect view of her arse.

  “Vile temptress,” he growled as he opened the bedroom door. She smiled and snuggled back into her pillow. As soon as she closed her eyes, sleep overtook her again.

  ***

  Hunter scrubbed the towel over his bare torso, his wetsuit hanging around his waist. “How about another set?” Rosco asked, clapping him on the shoulder.

  “Nah,” he answered, wanting to get back to Darla as quickly as possible. “I’ve had enough today.”

  Rosco laughed. “I can remember a time when you could never get enough.”

  “That’s before I started getting old,” Hunter shot back.

  “You’re hardly ready for a Zimmer frame just yet, old man.”

  Not only was Lachlan ‘Rosco’ Ross one of the celebrity surfers who endorsed Surf Hunter, they had been friends and surfing buds for the past six years. And recently, while Rosco been on top of his game professionally, Hunter was one of the very few people who knew things had not been so great on the home front.

  “How’s Emma doing?” Hunter asked, changing the subject. He didn’t want to share what happened last night, not even with his friend.

  Rosco planted his surfboard in the sand and sighed. “She seems to be smiling more, which I’m taking as a good sign, and she’s got Bodhi into a great school.”

  “That’s real good, dude. So she will be staying home on your next trip to South Africa in June?”

  “Yeah, she’s already called the office take her and Bodhi off the itinerary.”

  Hunter smiled. “I’m happy Em’s getting her groove back. By the way, been meaning to ask. We’re having a family day for the charity next month down at Bondi. I would really appreciate it if you could make an appearance, you know how the kids love having their idol show up. Bring Emma and Bodhi too—make a day of it.”

  Rosco slapped his hand on Hunter’s shoulder again. “Anything you need, dude, you name it.”

  “Excuse me.” Two young girls came racing up. “But aren’t you Rosco Ross?” the bolder of the two asked.

  Rosco smiled graciously. Hunter knew Rosco only had eyes for Emma and found most of the girls vacuous and uninteresting, but he always remained polite and professional.

  He used to envy the attention Rosco received. On occasions he was happy to comfort broken-hearted girls when they finally realised Rosco wasn’t interested in anything but surf talk. At thirty-six he was a bit over seducing young groupies for one night stands. The image of Darla lying in bed this morning on her stomach, sheet rucked between her legs, beautiful curved arse cheekily displayed to tempting perfection, flashed behind his eyes. It had been the hardest thing to leave, even for a surf. He’d never had that with any woman before.

  “What’s up with you, dude?” Rosco asked.

  “Hmm?”

  “You were a million miles away with a very cat-got-the-cream grin and you didn’t look at those girls, let alone check ‘em out.” Rosco narrowed his eyes. “If I didn’t know any better I would say you got shagged.”

  Hunter turned to look out at the ocean, not wanting Rosco to see the confirmation he couldn’t hide. He could already feel the grin starting.

  “You bloody did. You old dog. Come on. Give. Who is she?” Rosco didn’t let up.

  Hunter knew Emma, Rosco’s wife, and Darla belonged to some sort of social group. He didn’t want to put either of them in an awkward position. “It’s early days, mate, I really want to see how it goes before I tell anyone.”

  “Whoa dude. Serious.” Rosco said. “You must really like this one.”

  He was right. Hunter definitely wanted more than just a passing fling with Darla Thomas.

  ***

  A rhythmic thwack thwack slowly Darla brought out of sleep. She stretched, her body sore in all the right places. A smile crept onto her lips before she could stop it. Hunter Davis was definitely not a gentleman in everything that mattered.

  Thwack thwack thwack. What was that noise?

  She climbed naked from the bed and slipped on a short oriental silk robe. The digital clock beside her bed read 10:06. It’d been a long time since she had a late morning, though last night she hadn’t really been sleeping.

  The noise was coming from out in her backyard somewhere. She slid open the glass door and stepped out onto the balcony. Down by the pool house, with his back to her, Hunter attacked the fallen tree with an axe. Darla smiled. He wore no shirt, only a pair of worn jeans. The sight of him, back muscles rippling as he swung the axe, prompted a primitive female response she never knew existed. She almost had the urge to shack up in a log cabin just so she could watch him chop wood all day.

  Her stomach flipped, something that hadn’t happened to her since high school. Then her stomach growled. Coffee would be good. Coffee would be great. Hunter probably needed coffee too.

  Thankfully, with the new machine it should be a snap. She’d seen her housekeeper, Maree, use it. Couldn’t be that hard. Right?

  Darla put a couple of mugs under the spouts of the big black machine and pressed the button. The hot black coffee started to pour with spits and spurts out of the dual spouts. It smelled divine.

  She grabbed sugar and milk to put it on a tray with the mugs and carried it outside. There were twigs, leaves, and storm debris all over the lawn. Rubbish floated in the pool. She’d better get onto her yard maintenance company for extra service this month.

  Hunter was still swinging the axe. A pile of branches stood to one side as he cleared the tree away from the pool house. What if last night was a onetime only deal? A cold feeling of dread settled in the pit of her stomach. She wanted more.

  Anyway, this was just coffee.

  “Morning,” she called, her stomach doing strange nervous flips.

  Hunter dropped the axe and turned, his jaw dropped as he let the axe fall to his side. “Wow. I’ve never had coffee s
ervice looking so good. Keep it up and I’ll never get this finished.”

  Darla frowned and looked down. Her robe clung to her, the cool breeze blowing the silk tight across her obviously aroused breasts. The length barely covered her arse, and that also meant a lot of leg.

  She shrugged. “After what you saw last night, I feel rather modest. I can change if you like.”

  “Please,” he said, taking the tray from her and putting it on the jarrah outdoor table. “Don’t put yourself out on my account.”

  Perspiration and chips of wood covered his luscious torso, but she didn’t care. Jorja had once told her how much of a turn-on she found her fiancé, rugby league star Mud Hiddleston, when he was hot and sweaty. And for the first time Darla could understand why. This smelled healthy and heady. She wanted him. All of him. Right here, right now.

  Hunter pulled her against him and kissed her, his hand snaking under the hem of her robe and squeezing her butt cheek. She wrapped her hands around him and kissed him back. God she wanted him bad, but wanted him to think more of her than just an easy fuck. She wanted this to be more than just a passing fling between a couple of neighbours.

  She broke off the kiss with some difficulty. “How about I cook you some breakfast?” she said.

  Where the hell had that come from? Cooking. Am I insane?

  “Sure,” he said brightly. “I’m starved.”

  “Okay.” She forced a smile onto her face. “Coming right up.”

  Darla picked up a cup from the tray and handed it to him to cover her fluster. “How do you take your coffee?”

  “Black is fine,” he said, taking it from her, his fingers lingering against hers for half a heartbeat longer than necessary. “Thanks.”

  “Great.” She pointed a little awkwardly with both hands back at the house. “I’ll just go and make something to eat.”

  “I’ll just finish clearing away this so we can see how much damage there is.”

  Darla re-entered the kitchen. What the hell was I thinking? She couldn’t make breakfast. Although… She had made the coffee. Maybe it wasn’t that hard. Darla went to the fridge, which was fully stocked, including plenty of fresh fruit and yoghurt. But Hunter was a man, and men needed more than just fruit and yoghurt. She rifled through the contents. There were also eggs and bacon and milk. Maree worked weekdays and usually prepared breakfast, but she had two weeks holidays to go visit her daughter who had just given birth.