by Billy London
“I said sister,” Ophelia would blast. “What the fuck does adopted have to do with it?”
Helena gleaned from her own late breakfast that no one else had brought backup except Ophelia. And while the firm’s employees had to endure things such as “trust building exercises,” Helena took full advantage of the gym and the spa. And the restaurant. Then back to the gym. The interest in Helena came from the assumption that Helena was Ophelia’s chocolate, lesbian lover. Ophelia was more than happy to put them straight, trust building exercises or not.
What everyone was looking forward to was the night’s entertainment. The ballroom had been decked out with balloons, streamers, a vodka luge and lots of positive reinforcement statements on the tables. Helena had endured a strained dinner with Ophelia, picking out everything she disliked about her colleagues.
Avoiding any horrified looks, Helena went on the hunt for a drink. She didn’t care that it’d be a false sleep but she wanted to just get through the night, no questions asked. No lions. No waking up on the side of the road like a tramp.
Ophelia saw the lined up glasses of champagne next to her sister’s plate and moved four away. “What’s the matter with you? You don’t drink! Not since you saw that lecture on what it does to your liver.”
“It’s socially acceptable,” Helena replied without apology.
Ophelia’s eyebrows rose delicately. “Are you back chatting again?”
“Cameron!” Helena beamed at the dark haired man with eyes the colour of a summer night sky. “Why doesn’t my sister like you?”
“Because judges prefer my opinion to hers.” He sent Ophelia a grin so smooth children could have slid along it into a pool of water. “Hard to bill a client for thousands when you haven’t won.”
“I would win, you pompous prick, if you stopped talking about how you all tugged each other’s dicks at Eton,” Ophelia snapped.
Not waiting to see the outcome of that little display, Helena took her glass of champagne to the makeshift bar. I really would like to sleep. Just for once. She told herself off for such pathetic self-pity and waited for the night’s entertainment.
The singer finally got to the stage. Every woman in the room suddenly perked up. That was a man and two halves. He had a waterfall of silvery blond hair that drifted to his shoulders, making him look all at once hippyish and vulnerable. Matched with a broad body built for rugby, he could have been intimidating but then he spoke, and said in the most understated, sexy voice, “This is what employment was meant for. Getting hammered with people you don’t really like.”
He then started to sing Take That’s Greatest Day without a trace of irony or mickey taking. Just him and a piano. Helena watched in awe as he wove a spell of love and hope, and faith in the human race. The guy was incredible. They better up his pay, she thought, looking around the room as employees looked at one another as if for the first time, clinked glasses and sang along. The words sparkled over her chest, and her mouth curved into an unrepentant grin. Men didn’t hit those notes without castration.
The urge to have a look at his legs to see if his clothing was doing it for him was strong. But the sting of tears was stronger, at how he effortlessly carried the song, the music, the emotion in the fingertips that skated over the piano keys. A different Helena would have given into a sobbing fit. Hell, a drunk Helena would have, but a few of the women of the firm wrapped their arms around Helena’s neck and started rugby crowding her into singing along.
The singer saw them and smiled softly from behind the microphone. His eyes burned into hers, and he sent her the slightest wink. Okay, she thought, her heart racing in her throat. Officially the sexiest man alive. David Gandy included.
He finished and the room burst into applause. “We feeling the love? Good, let’s keep it going.”
Helena forgave him for the cheese fest but it was the best thing to do, giving everyone a sense of familiarity and fun. While the band carried on, he took the mic and gave a random person the chance to sing. He came to Helena, standing a good five inches over her. Oh my God, what are you doing to me? He’s tall on top of everything else? Aye yai yai… She shook her head with embarrassment, as his eyes met hers, bright and insistent.
“Sod off!” she blurted.
Not at all diverted, he said, “That champagne didn’t get here itself. Come on, earn your money!”
“I can’t,” she whispered.
He took her hand and sat her next to him on the stool at the piano. “What’s your name?”
“Helena.”
“Hells Bells,” Ophelia yelled from across the room.
“Okay Hells is going to remind everyone why she’s a great employee.”
“I don’t work here,” she said between her teeth, “I just tagged along.”
He sent her a grin. “That’s even better. What’s your game face song?”
“You need to let me go and have a drink. I’m not singing.”
“Good choice.”
She turned to look around the room. People who obviously knew she was Ophelia’s sister were waiting for her to prove her worth.
“Elton John. Everyone knows Elton,” he decided and started to play Your Song. A nudge in her ribs forced her to sing louder and into the microphone. She glanced nervously around the room and the sight of everyone holding up the table candles and swaying to the music, made her voice peter out.
“Close your eyes,” he murmured into her ear. “You can pretend they’re naked, it’s all good for the company.”
She laughed and did as she was told. Not that she wouldn’t destroy her sisters if they ever blabbed, but Moulin Rouge was the one film that had made her bawl her eyes out.
“You’ve got a good voice,” he complimented as he played the last chords over the cheers. “No need for all that protest.”
“I am never going to live this down,” she groaned, opening her eyes at a narrow and seeing Ophelia banging her fist on the table she was laughing so hard.
“She’ll get over it,” he assured her. “Off you get.”
He plucked her from the seat and placed her gently with the rugby girls. “Last song for everyone,” he announced before launching into Queen’s Don’t Stop Me Now with gusto so everyone joined in waving their arms. He was again applauded as he finished. A DJ took his place, following Queen with something just as cheesy and raucous.
He made his way to the bar. Helena watched as he shook off the advances of horny drunk women and was given a glass. Caught in the middle of gawping at him, she careened into the waiter handing out more champagne, and apologised as he cleared up the mess. She risked a glance at the hot singer who waved her over. Ignoring the tiny voice that asked what the hell, she went over to him.
He pushed a fresh glass of champagne at her. “Sorry for giving your friend ammunition.”
“That’s my sister,” Helena explained, accepting the champagne and taking a large gulp. His eyes narrowed ever so slightly before he finished his own drink. “It’s her God-given right to take the mick.”
“True. What are you—older or younger?”
“Younger.”
“Now younger siblings are like un-mowed grass. Why pay someone to do it when you can have all the pleasure to yourself?”
“You sound like an older child.” She frowned.
“And that sounds like middle child bitterness,” he countered with a flash of a grin. “I am the oldest. Two minions below me.”
“Do they never introduce themselves either?”
He laughed; sparking her nerves. She couldn’t look him directly in the eyes, he was far too gorgeous.
“So sorry. Auden.” He held out a huge hand toward her and she placed hers in it. She snatched her hand back immediately at the jolt of electricity that snapped through her.
“Little shock,” she apologized. Sad, lonely, not even a history of sexual diseases or psychosis. He needed companionship. So did she…
“Too much polystyrene in the room,” he assured her. “So
Hells, how did you chat your way into this company love-in?”
“Fee made me come. Well, she guilt-tripped me into it.” Easy enough, when one is the worst girlfriend ever. Dammit, it didn’t look like Josh was getting his text message tonight either.
“I’m glad she did,” he murmured, another of those smiles trailing through her body like warm honey. “There’s a pub around here. Do you want to go? They always have a lock in.”
“Is everyone else invited?”
He blinked slowly, the smile not wavering for a second. “If you’d feel safer.”
“If you knew my sister, you’d understand I’m more worried about you,” she admitted, calling Ophelia over.
***
Auden tucked Helena’s hand into his elbow as they followed the excited employees toward the pub. He felt a strange sense of privilege in escorting such a beautiful girl to what used to be his local pub. She had an ethereal air to her, the clip in her hair sparkling in the moonlight. She was pretty cool as well. He didn’t know many girls who would turn up to a retreat with a company they didn’t even work for in a black leather biker jacket over an obviously designer dress.
“Isn’t your sister going to be pissed off with you?” he asked.
Helena’s eyes widened. “Oh lord. I forgot all about her. She was too busy fighting with this guy she works with.”
“We’ll send her a text,” he said. “Do you have a smart phone?”
She frowned at him, “Yes… Oh! I see.” She extracted it from her bag chained at her hip and slipped her arm around his shoulders. He, in turn, curved his palm around her waist as she extended her other arm to take the photo. Turning the phone over, he didn’t feel like releasing her to examine the picture. They looked like they’d been a couple for years.
“There now. You’re um…very photogenic,” she complimented.
He chuckled. “So are you.”
She slipped her arm from him and typed out a message to her sister, tagging the photo with it. With Auden, the singer, off to the pub down the road, so I’ll see you there? By the time they looked up, they were alone. “Everyone’s gone!”
He shrugged, quite happy everyone had buggered off so he could be alone with her. “It’s all right, I know where we’re going.”
She caught his arm again, and he felt the warmth of her fingers through the wool of his coat. She smelled incredible. What was that perfume? Bloody dangerous, it was, a subtle creamy flowery scent that was driving him crazy. He wanted to know if she smelled like that all over.
“You know when you sing…” she started, her footsteps falling into sync with his own, “you…oh God, I’m going to sound like an arse kissing journo, but it’s like magic. Did you see everyone crying?”
“I saw you moshing with those girls.” He smiled. “Thank you. I don’t perform anymore, and I wasn’t looking forward to it. But this reminded me how much I miss it. I’m glad I came.”
“I am too,” she grinned up at him. “You know why people in Essex and Japan live so long?”
“I can’t wait to hear this,” he teased.
“Karaoke! Singing is nothing less than good for the soul.”
“You didn’t want to sing,” he reminded her.
“Yes, because it was in front of a bunch of people I didn’t know!” She nudged him with an elbow. “And you ambushed me.”
He laughed. “You were fine. More than. Just think of it as a Disney sing-a-long.”
Her head bowed, “Well, thank you. Even though it will embarrass me for the rest of my life.”
He turned to admonish her for being silly just as she leaned up to kiss his cheek and met with his mouth instead. His body jerked at the contact. Not just that he hadn’t touched a woman in years, but this woman had touched him? Whole different page number.
She nearly backed off, her eyes rounded with shock. “I’m so sorry. I was going for your—”
He didn’t care; his dick had twitched to life. “Come here a minute.” His hand curled around the back of her neck almost possessively.
“What are you doing?” she demanded as he edged her from the path and deeper into the woods, dried leaves crunching beneath their feet.
This would be far enough, he decided, glancing down at her chest. The partly open jacket gave a tantalising view of her breasts, heaving over the edge of her dress. He swore he could hear her thinking this is a bad idea!
“No. It’s really not,” he assured her.
Chapter Six
He caught her by the waist, his hands sliding along her spine as he pulled her into the wall of his chest. The sheen of her lip-gloss glimmered in the moonlight, her lips slightly parted, breath misting in the cold. When her gaze wandered to his mouth, he almost went to his knees in gratitude. That was his permission to kiss. To taste. He lowered his head, watching her until their mouths touched. The sensation forced his eyes closed. Pressing hard against those pillow soft lips, he distantly hearing her sighing moan.
She parted her lips for him and he slid his tongue inside, a thrill chasing through him at her sweet taste. Her hands slowly moved to encircle his neck. Yes, he thought, when she pressed herself closer. Come here. God, she was so soft everywhere, from the skin of her neck to the luscious curve of her hips. He tugged at the zipper of her jacket and moved his mouth down along the graceful column of her neck, inhaling the perfume there. It would haunt him; he would be forever in search of that fragrance if he never saw her again after this night.
His mouth trailed lower, velvet skin beneath his lips while his thumbs searched for her nipples through the material of her dress. The erratic race of her pulse tapped a beat against his mouth. Just a little bit more, he allowed himself. The dress suffered a short insistent jerk, and her breasts sprang free. In the moonlight, he could just make out how much darker her nipples were than the rich colour of her breasts. If this was a dream, he was going to savour every second of it. Her nails grazed the skin of his chest, catching his nipples. Pain mingled with the irresistible need to taste even more of her.
Resting his nose on the soft skin that parted her breasts, he inhaled deeply. The woman was six feet of pure temptation. From the first hint of her arousal, nothing could have prevented him from wanting to taste from the source. She gave a little gasp as his tongue circled her nipple before he sucked as much of her beautiful tit into his mouth as possible. She tasted deliciously addictive.
As he kissed his way to her other nipple, she yanked his coat from him, her hands roving the breadth of his shoulders only for her fingers to trail inside his shirt. He lifted his head from her chest and he pressed her firmly against the nearest tree, pinning her in place as their kiss turned wilder, bruising, almost as if they wanted to climb into one another. Thank fuck, it’s not all me then.
She started unbuttoning his shirt, but he was impatient, and ripped the remaining buttons open. They both shuddered when skin met skin. This still wasn’t enough. He’d only intended to kiss her, have a brief taste, but now he needed to be inside her, feel all of her. She should be screaming for him now, clearing all and any animals from the woods for miles. Her hips pressed against his. Decision made. He was going to take her now, right here, against this tree.
Gathering the hem of her dress, he bunched the material in his fists and, holding it to her waist, thrust a hefty thigh between her legs to keep them spread. He hooked aside what felt like the smallest scrap of lace covering her modesty. Her lips were soaked with her cream, and he gave a muffled grunt over her mouth at how wet she was. She released a shuddering cry as his fingers probed at her deliciously tight opening, his thumb stroking over the smooth skin. There wasn’t a single hair that interrupted his journey over her.
“Now,” she breathed into his mouth.
He lifted his head ever so slightly; one solitary finger paused briefly inside her. Reality kicked him quite painfully. “I don’t have any—”
Her eyes flared open, “You’re fine,” she promised. “Please. Now.”
All
the convincing he needed, he removed his hand from beneath her dress and licked her sweet essence from his fingers. If it was at all possible, his cock hardened further, pressing painfully against the fly of his jeans. He released himself, his jeans dropping to his ankles, with his boxers following suit. Moving close again, he gripped both her thighs so she was braced between the tree and his body. Partly to drive himself crazy for a few moments, partly to try and gain some control before he ruined everything, he allowed the tip of his pulsating cock to slide along the length of her pussy. Without further warning, he drove his thickness as deeply into her as her body would allow. Christ, she felt incredible!
The grip of her sheath was like nothing he’d experienced before. More, his body insisted. He caught the excess material of her dress with a fist before he worked his cock into her with slow determined thrusts, gathering the flow of her cream along the length. His eyes flicked to her face and he watched her, every little moan that emerged from between those plump lips. Completely enthralled, he felt a delicious give each time he moved inside her, slowly nudging at her womb. It was like she had Viagra in her juices. He just got harder as he pumped into her, his cock straining as it thickened in her depths. The muscles in his body rippled in anticipation of his orgasm. Fuck, he prayed she came first or he really was badly out of practice. She pushed down hard against him, angling her hips to meet his every movement. Her back arched and her head braced against the tree, her nails digging painfully into his neck.
“Come,” he ordered softly, thrusting faster.
She babbled random breathy words against his mouth just before her pussy clamped down on him as her orgasm ripped through her. Her cry echoed through the woods, while her thighs trembled, her skin damp at his waist. He continued to pump her, slowly this time trying not to give into his own release just yet, but the pull of her inner muscles, squeezing over his length, made that impossible. Withdrawing from her, he uncurled her legs from around him and set her unsteadily on the grass. He grabbed his coat and laid it down, lining up.
