by Joanne Walsh
She couldn’t help smiling too at his earnest description. “You sound like the maître d’ at a posh restaurant, but my goodness, I can’t wait to try it.”
“Help yourself.”
She carefully ladled some of the kleftika onto her plate, along with rice and salad, then reached for a hunk of bread, while he refilled their glasses. She took a bite. “This is delicious. The lamb simply melts in the mouth. I’m sure it’s way better than Nik’s,” she added with a mischievous grin.
He gave a modest tilt of his head. “Nik’s is pretty good, but I am glad you like it.” He set about serving himself before sitting down and picking up his fork. After a couple of mouthfuls, he announced, “Mm-hm, not bad, although I say so myself. Talking of brothers, Sergei has informed me that he and Hannah have set a date for the wedding.”
“That’s right, the thirty-first of October. When Hannah told me, my first response was, you’re getting married on Halloween?”
“Serge has already informed me he is compiling his special spook-themed playlist for the reception,” he sighed.
“Aw, come on, it’ll be fun. Will you and Nik be best men again?”
“We will. And I believe Hannah’s asked you and Frankie to be matrons of honour. Or, since it will be Halloween,” his mouth twisted into a wry smile, “should that be witches of honour?”
“Ha, ha, very droll.” She reached over to swat his arm.
But he grabbed hold of her hand before it made contact and, turning her palm towards him, kissed it, making her nerve endings stir and buzz. “You will be the most beautiful, honourable matron-witch, whatever you are wearing.” His eyes travelled downwards.
Following his gaze, she realized her blouse was gaping again and attempted to pull her hand away so she could cover herself up.
But he didn’t let go of her. “Eisai omorfi,” he growled, staring hungrily at the gap left by the departed button.
Even by in the dim light, she could see the desire sparking in his eyes. Her mouth dried and she felt her nipples tighten.
“Just let me taste you,” he begged in a whisper. “Nothing more, I promise.”
She hesitated then, taking a deep breath, rose up, and his hands came to meet her hips, positioning her into straddling his lap. But instead of kissing her, he pushed her blouse aside, cupping her breast inside her bra, making her breath hitch when his thumb grazed her stiff nipple. “You promised,” she gasped.
“But promises are made to be broken,” he came back, his gaze snaring hers. “If that’s alright with you?” His fingers teased and tweaked the nipple again, over and over, stirring a truth within her that was intense and inescapable; she wanted his mouth where his fingers played.
“Go ahead,” she muttered, “taste me.”
He cast her another smouldering look before bending to suckle her. Her head rolled back as his lips drew her in, a deeply powerful throbbing hitting low in her belly. Oh my God! For crazy, dizzy seconds, she wanted only for him to touch her down there. Instinctively, she ground herself against him to relieve the incredible heat and pressure that were building.
“You are a witch,” he groaned before turning his attention to the waistband of her jeans, releasing the stud and zip, and sliding his fingers into her panties until he found and stroked her core. Instantly, her body jerked, and she trembled violently as waves of a pleasure she’d never thought possible flooded through her.
“Wow,” he whispered, “was that what I think it was?”
She stared at him her eyes wide. Had she had an orgasm? At least, she thought that was what it was because it’d never actually happened before. Wriggling out of his hold, she stood and walked a few paces away while scrabbling to do up her clothes, willing her breathing to steady and her pulse to slow, then swung around to face him again, unable to stop her eyes from welling. “I’m sorry—”
“There’s no need to apologize.” He was on his feet in an instant and coming towards her, taking her into his arms and holding her close. “Agapimenos, why are you upset?”
Chapter Eighteen
“I’m not upset, just…” He could feel her trembling. “I never knew it would feel like this. That it would be so incredible, and I’d feel so emotional.”
“It? You mean…” He stopped and rested his chin on the top of her head. “Sally, are you telling me you have never climaxed before?”
She buried her face in his chest and replied with a muffled “No.”
“Not during all that time when you were married?”
“No.”
Squeezing his arms around her tighter, he took a few more moments to absorb what she’d just admitted. “Perhaps we should talk about this, pethi mou?” he suggested gently.
Letting out a large sigh, she wriggled out of his hold. “I feel like an idiot. This is not what you’re used to, is it?”
“Used to?”
“The beautiful, sophisticated women you’ve dated in the past, and now me; the exceedingly unmerry widow who’s never….”
“Hey, hey, enough!” He raised a palm to stop the flow of her self-critical words. “We’ll talk.” He gestured towards the table.
She gave him an uncertain glance then shrugged. “Alright.”
While she sat down, he moved their discarded plates aside and replenished their glasses. “Sally,” he began, sitting down too, “you’re right, I’ve had a few girlfriends. But you shouldn’t feel intimidated. You’re as beautiful as any of them.”
She gave an uncertain smile, but then dipped her head, her coppery curls falling around her shoulders. “Thank you for saying that, but I’m sure I’m the most clueless in the bedroom.”
Shifting in his seat, he leaned forward. She was clueless because she had no idea how much her inexperience turned him on. “Do you think that matters to me?”
“It’s hardly exciting.”
“But it is,” he replied quietly. “Incredibly so.”
Her head jerked up, her brow furrowing into a deep V. “How?”
“Because I can be the person who shows you how wonderful making love can be. Who’ll help you explore your body, teach you to know what arouses you.” He smiled ruefully. “If that’s what you wish.”
“I do,” she confirmed shyly.
“So, there’ll be no more comparing or putting yourself down, okay? It feels incredible that you’re trusting me to do this. Although, of course, there’s no pressure when,” he added. “We agreed to take it slowly, so why don’t you let me know when you’re ready. You are in control here.”
“Alright.”
“Exochos. Now, let me reheat what is left of the kleftika.”
When he returned from the kitchen, she’d relaxed. But as they chatted over their food, he couldn’t help his gaze straying back to the globes of her breasts, which peeked out tantalizingly from between the edges of her top. How amazing that he would be the one to guide her. His ego was also swelling a little too because he was going to be doing what Manos had clearly failed to. What a fool his late friend had been, not appreciating his lovely wife, preferring to get his highs in online casinos.
“It is Saturday tomorrow,” he announced suddenly. “How about spending it with me? We can drive up the coast to Katala. The bay there is off the tourist track, and we can sunbathe, swim and do whatever else we wish in peace. What do you think?”
Raising her eyebrows, she nodded. “Sounds lovely. Goodness, I haven’t been there in who knows how many years. Why, I think it must have been with you and Manos—”
He squeezed her hand. “It was. I seem to remember we had a lot of fun playing our version of volleyball on the beach that day.”
“After a couple of bottles of wine.” She smiled wistfully. “I seem to remember falling flat on my face in the sand.”
He chuckled. “I think we all took a tumble or two after too much Skalos red.”
Leaning back, she laughed. “Happy days. So, why don’t I fix us a picnic for tomorrow? If you come mid-morning, that’ll give me ti
me to rustle it up.”
“I will bring wine and water and pick you up around 11. Do not forget to bring your swimsuit.”
Chapter Nineteen
Dimitri sped along the road into the village, his spirits high. He had Sally all to himself today; no Skalos, no store, his phone on silent and, fingers crossed, no King of the Mongrels. He was half hoping the peaceful surroundings of Katala would lead to some kind of intimacy, his mind filled as it was with how he could touch and tease her, bring her to orgasm again. He gripped the steering wheel tighter. When it came to sex, hadn’t they agreed, she was in the driving seat, not him? He smiled to himself. It was fine, he could wait. Anyway, the picnic would be a good opportunity to talk, ask her about what had really gone on behind closed doors with Manos. Since yesterday evening—in between thoughts of making love to her—the question of why she’d stayed with him if their marriage had been so empty had niggled him. He’d thought it was shame and pride that had kept her there, but perhaps there was more to it.
Swinging the Merc onto the forecourt of KATs, he saw her waiting. She cut a pretty picture, her hair braided, sunglasses perched on her head, and wearing a dress with a strapless, ruched bodice that skimmed those perfect little breasts and exposed her sun-freckled shoulders in the most enticing way. A beach bag and a wicker picnic hamper with a wide-brimmed hat balanced on it sat at her feet. After getting out and making his way over, he kissed her lightly on the lips. “You look nice.” His hands went to her waist to bring her nearer. “You smell nice too.”
She grinned. “I took a shower earlier.”
“That was very good of you,” he chuckled.
“I did the breakfast shift in the shelter and I smelt of kibble,” she shot back. “I guess we’d better get going.”
“Allow me.” Swooping in, he grabbed the handle of the basket and lifted it. “Thee mou, this is heavy. What have you got in here?”
“Oh, a few bites that I snaffled from Alison’s larder, and salad stuff and fruit I got from Pav.”
Lifting the lid, he peeked inside. He could see a savoury tart, a loaf of crusty bread and various Tupperware-type boxes filled with sliced ham, greens and fresh peaches. “Have you left anything at all for Alison, Pav and, er, Ben, to eat?”
She looked at him from beneath her lashes, her mouth curving in a way so mischievous it made him want to ravish it with his own. “They won’t starve. You know Alison, always baking and cooking. And Pav was only too happy to offer a selection from his vegetable plot and orchard. In fact, I’ve talked him into supplying Sally’s once we’re open.”
“Great idea,” Dimitri encouraged, swinging the hamper onto the car’s back seat. “McTavish not coming with us?” he asked casually.
“He went off earlier with Pav,” she replied, before opening the passenger door. Placing her bag in the footwell, she got in, settled into her seat, then added through the opened window, “It’s just you and me.” Winking, she pulled her sunnies down and perched them on her nose.
From here, he had a bird’s-eye view of her breasts. Cool it, he admonished himself, and started on his way around to the driver’s side.
“Wow, you’re in a hurry,” she laughed as the Merc roared off, the velocity pushing her back against her seat.
“Just want to make sure I have you to myself for as long as possible today.”
As they headed out north along the coast, the conversation petered out. He flashed her a glance. She’d dozed off, her head slightly tilted to one side, her lips parted and those creamy globes innocently thrusting against the restraint of her bodice. He felt himself stir. Theos, how he longed to pull the car over into the next lay-by and her dress down, lave her nipples to stiffness. Shifting in his seat, reluctantly, he forced his attention back to the road. It was her call what happened and when; he was the back seat driver.
*
“Sally! Wake up! We’re here.”
“Mm, what?” She looked blearily around. Dimitri had parked up in a small lot surrounded by trees.
Giving her a lazy smile, he opened the driver-side door. “Looks as if we might have the place to ourselves. Shall we go check out the beach? Hopefully, there’s no one else there.”
She stretched and rolled her head around a little to rid her neck of stiffness, before getting out too and heaving the picnic hamper off the back seat. Leaning against the Merc, she pointed over its roof. “If my memory serves me right, there are a lot of steps down the cliff to the beach through the clearing, aren’t there?”
“About a hundred and fifty of them. But it’s worth it to have the privacy and beauty of the place. Here, let me help you with that basket.”
They walked forward together, each with a hand on the hamper’s curved handle, Sally relishing the soothing, clean scent of pine. They came to the cliff’s edge where, below them, a sheltered, deserted cove of white sand stretched to where the aquamarine curve of the sea swung gently in and out, and the decaying hulk of an old fishing boat lay marooned on a tiny rocky island.
“I’d forgotten how idyllic it is here,” she breathed. “Okay, how are we going to get this lot down there?” She inclined her head towards the wooden balustrade that surrounded the opening onto stairs that had been hewn out of the cliff face.
“How about I go first with the picnic, and you follow me with everything else? But take it slowly, it’s steep.”
“Alright.” Taking her share of the load from him, she stepped carefully down behind him, fascinated by how the corded muscles in his broad shoulders and arm flexed beneath the black silk of his T-shirt as he carried the basket. She bit down on her lip as need surged inside her. Last night, she’d had a couple of glasses of wine, got carried away and had acted bold. But afterwards, when she’d lain awake in bed thinking everything over, she’d realized she wanted more time before she plunged in any deeper. Maybe it was a matter of pride, but even though he’d reassured her, she was going to prime herself so that she went to bed with him with confidence; over the next few weeks, she intended to search online for blogs and articles with tips.
“Where shall we sit?”
She dragged her attention back to the present. They’d reached the beach. “How about over there?” She pointed to rocks forming a sheltering wall that ran down to the shore.
They tramped across the sand to the spot she’d indicated, Dimitri taking the large, striped blanket he’d thought to pack and unfurling it, before placing the picnic basket on top. “Teleios. Perfect,” he pronounced.
Kneeling down, she removed her sunglasses before shading her eyes with her hand and squinting up at him. “Do you fancy a swim before we eat?”
While he stripped off his T-shirt and shorts to reveal snugly fitting black trunks, she primly eased her undies down and her one-piece on under her dress, surreptitiously drinking in his tanned body and the dark hair that swirled across his taut abs. He was so gorgeous. Turning around, she dragged her dress over her head and began hauling up the costume, only to feel his hands on her bare shoulders, swivelling her back to face him. She hesitated, before some inner force guided her arms around his neck, and with one swift movement, he captured her mouth, sweeping his palms over her pebbling nipples with a pressure that instantly had her melting into him.
It seemed like their embrace would go on forever until he broke away and yanked up her swimsuit straps. After planting another brief peck on her forehead, he surprised her by reaching behind her head to take hold of her braid and gently tug it. Her head went back, his gaze colliding with hers. For moments he said nothing, but his eyes burned like lasers. She ran her tongue over her lips, wanting to relieve their sudden dryness. “Shall we go in?” he said, releasing her hair and dissipating the tension that shimmered between them.
“Sure,” she croaked. But as he turned and ran across the sand towards the water’s edge, she stayed rooted to the spot, running her fingers over her mouth. That look he’d just given her. It’d been filled with something so raw and intense—what was it? Desire…po
ssessiveness? She closed her eyes and swallowed, heard the sea’s woosh as it ebbed and flowed. He was greedy for her; she could see that, and she felt torn. How much longer should she—could she—make them wait?
“Sally! Come on!”
She opened her eyes. He’d reached the sea, was waving her on to go join him. Hitching the strap of her costume so it sat more comfortably on her shoulder, she set off down the beach at a jog. When she reached the water’s edge, she stopped, the tide swishing around her ankles, as he waded over to her, droplets dotting his bronzed skin in the sunlight like a hundred diamond chips. Slicking back his damp hair, he pulled her hard up against him, his hands roaming to her buttocks and cupping them before lifting her and claiming her mouth. She could taste the salt on his lips, feel his erection as it pressed against the thin material of her swimsuit. Clinging to his shoulders, instinctively, she hoisted herself higher so that she could wrap her legs around him and rub against his hardness.
“Christo!” He swung her downwards, before kneeling and lowering her into the surf. His hands reached to her head and tangled with her wet curls, his eyes filled with that same raw intensity she’d seen minutes ago. “I need you so, so much,” he growled.
“I know,” she groaned.
“Tell me what you want, pethi mou. You are in charge.”
For seconds, she gazed at him. “Will you touch me like you did last night?” she whispered.
“You want me to make you come again?” Smiling, he pushed her hair away from where it stuck to her cheeks, then lowered his lips to hers, his tongue flicking in and out between them.
She found herself mirroring the action and was gratified when his kiss deepened in response. Emboldened, she let her hands run over his damp body, her fingertips thrilling to the feel of its sinews, roaming lower until she came to the waistband of his trunks. The fire building within urged her to go further, and she edged inside, making contact with his hardness, revelling in his sharp intake of breath. But in the next moment, he’d seized her hand, dragging it up, and grabbing her other on the way, until he had both pinned above her head.
