Releasing the past, she embraced a present full of grit and edge and sweat and danger.
‘Jay,’ she breathed against his hand, and suddenly, in a silent fury, she arched and came.
Chapter 6
Jay’s cock lurched, stiffening and stiffening again. He’d never felt this hard, and been this sure of it, not even in his life before the crash. It was as if his fears and injuries were a dark dream rapidly dissipating, a poisonous miasma flushed out by the light and warmth of Sandy.
As the woman in his arms arched against him in a spasm of orgasm, he almost staggered, overwhelmed by the sensations pouring through him, and by the clash of past and present, of dream and reality.
The couple jerking and shouting in the kitchen were like a puppet show, a diversion. It was the woman in his arms who kept his cock hard, sure and unfailing. And it was time to act, to seize the moment, and celebrate the miracle of his sudden unstoppable potency.
Snatching her up in a haphazard lift, he hauled her away from the door, and together they stumbled along the landing and up to the next floor with no thought of concealing their presence. Who cared if the other couple heard them? They were too far gone in their own games to investigate anyway.
There was a door on the left, and Jay kicked it open. The thump of his foot rang out and the door panel flew back on its hinges, banging against the wall beyond.
He didn’t give a damn.
Luckily he’d discovered a bedroom. His eyes momentarily registered gross untidiness, and almost subconsciously he felt a stab of distaste. In his dreams, Princess had always been dainty, fastidious and immaculate, and even though he knew Sandy was Sandy, not a figment of his imagination, the sight of clothes flung across chairs, draped over the end of the bed and on the floor, and a Jackson Pollock scatter of cosmetics, used tissues, empty coffee cups and sweet wrappers covering every surface was a shock.
The bed was unmade too, frowsty and not quite clean.
The old Jay, used to luxury and the finest of everything, would have suggested a move to a cleaner, more sanitary room – if there was one – but the new unstoppable Jay didn’t care about anything but fucking, whether it be the woman of his dreams or otherwise.
He set her down hurriedly, almost throwing her onto the far from salubrious bed, and followed her down, shrugging off his jacket and kicking off his shoes as he went. Then, looming over her, almost afraid that the whole crazy incident wasn’t real, he kissed her on the mouth for the very first time since their brief encounter fifteen years ago.
Her lips were soft, and tasted faintly of wine as they parted, admitting him. Accepting her invitation, he rolled further across her, thrusting with his tongue as his hands devoured the feel of her just as hungrily, touching and travelling.
Her body felt perfect, a physical match for his fantasies at least. Beneath her thin clothing, Sandy was slender and pliant, yet full of shape. Her breasts were rounded, nipples springing to attention as he fingered them through her dress and whatever soft underthings she wore beneath it. A gasp of pleasure puffed around his tongue as she responded to the roll of his fingertips around her nipples. First one, then the other. Her hips rolled too, as if she couldn’t contain the desire his touch evoked in her.
He moved further across her, throwing a thigh over hers and circling his hips and his aching crotch against hers. His cock leaped when her small hands roved over his back and his thighs, as bold and demanding as his own.
The touch of her fingers, so often fantasised about, was electric. Delicious jolts of sensation sped through his nerves, his blood, his senses, every sublime burst of it surging instantaneously to his groin.
Miraculous, increased hardness. Like stone. Safe. Unfailing. He sent up a prayer of thanks to whatever deity was looking out for him. Thanks for the twist of fate that had brought him here to this woman.
And he had to get into her. Immediately. Now. Not because he feared he might lose his erection, but because he simply couldn’t wait to fuck, to savour the sweet slide of her flesh against his, ‘Princess’ or otherwise.
His cock leaped again when her fingers found his belt, and started to fumble.
It seemed she wanted him just as desperately as he wanted her. It wasn’t the ‘first fuck’ scenario he’d anticipated, but who the hell cared about idealised dream-women in luxurious hotels with immaculate linen and bowers of roses when a real woman on an unmade bed felt so good?
Sandy couldn’t breathe. She wanted Jay so much she could barely think.
His weight, his size, the taste of his hard mouth and the heavy thrust of his cock, they all overwhelmed her. Between her legs she felt molten, a silent scream of lust that only he could calm.
Tugging at his belt, she marvelled at her own shamelessness. What he’d done to her in the garden at the Waverley had changed her. She was voracious now, demanding, absolutely sure of her actions and her right to satisfy her needs. She’d never felt sexual confidence like this before. If only this mighty epiphany didn’t have to happen on Kat’s pit of a bed though!
But desire was unstoppable, and needs must when the devil drove. Expelling all thoughts of what might have happened on these sheets, or worse still, been smeared on them, she wrenched at the elaborately crafted buckle of Jay’s belt, grinding herself against him like a randy she-devil as she struggled with it.
‘Here, let me,’ he growled, his mouth still mashed against hers. The feel of his neat elegant beard was strangely soft against her face, and his big hands dashed her small ones away as quickly and deftly he unfastened himself.
A beautiful big cock sprang into her grasp. Hot, hard flesh, coated in velvety skin, sticky at the tip with oozing pre-come. Her fingers coiled around it as if they’d been created solely for the purpose of caressing him. Restraining her urge to grab and to pump, she slid her grip lightly up and down, up and down.
‘Oh yeah …’ His husky damaged voice was rougher than ever, barely focused, almost not forming words at all. His hips seemed to move almost of their own volition, pushing the might of his rampant erection through her fingers.
But it wasn’t enough to touch. It wasn’t enough to hold. Even as she stroked him, she started pulling at her skirt, and then her knickers, with her other hand.
Dear God, please, please, please let Kat have condoms in her drawer!
Hands joined hers in the rush to get her panties off. Jay pulled as she pulled and, all in a jumble of tugging and touching and hot, hot flesh, they finally divested her of her underwear. Miraculously, she was still holding his cock as her flimsy knickers went sailing away across her friend’s bedroom.
‘Sandy! Are you OK? What’s going on in there?’
The fact that Kat was bursting with laughter as she called out through the door told Sandy in no uncertain terms that her friend knew exactly what was going on. The butter incident was obviously over as quickly as it had begun, and the younger girl, and possibly her paramour, had come to see what the other commotion elsewhere in the flat was about. She was also clearly puzzled as to why Sandy wasn’t using her own bedroom, but Kat was never one to stand on ceremony where sex was concerned.
‘Wh-what do you think’s going on? Go away, Kat. Use my room, whatever …’
Jay’s hand, staking a claim to her naked crotch, made her stutter over her words.
More laughter rang out, male and female this time, accompanied by muffled comments and encouragements.
‘Okey-dokey! There’s a couple of boxes of condoms in the drawer. Dig in, but just leave a few for us, eh?’
‘Thanks!’
It came out as a squeak because Jay’s thumb was on her clit, pressing hard.
As he began to circle it, it became impossible to concentrate, or coordinate, or even see straight. His cock slipped from her fingers and she grabbed wildly at his body instead, clawing at his back and buttocks, pulling him closer with every ounce of her energy.
He’s going to make me come again. He’s going to do it. Please God let him fuck m
e afterwards though.
Between her legs, he worked her, rocking the tiny sensitive crest of flesh without let-up or mercy. Half-crazed already, it took barely seconds for Sandy to achieve his objective. She arched against him, limbs jerking, her pussy melting.
But even as she came, she grabbed and scrabbled at him, wanting more, wanting connection as if her life depended on it. With his hand still squashed between them, she rubbed her pelvis against his, inviting and imploring him to fuck her.
‘Please,’ she gasped, ‘please, please fuck me.’
There was a moment of still, silent shock. Had she really said that? She’d never really talked dirty in bed, always been quiet, taken her cues from her man, responsive but not proactive. But now, with this man, she could do or say anything.
Or was it too much?
As if confirming her fears, Jay eased back a little and looked down at her.
His eyes were an enigma, but she sensed questions, and also surprise. Was he angry? Disappointed? Repulsed by the very hunger he’d aroused? How could she displease him? This was what he’d goaded her into, wasn’t it?
Well, fuck you, Mister! You asked for it, you’re getting it. And if it doesn’t suit you, I’ll find somebody else to get the benefit of the new me!
But when she tried to pull away, he grabbed her shoulder, and plunged down on her for another kiss, hard and savage.
He was asserting himself, she realised, dominating her, imprinting his will on her. The power of his mouth made her lips smart and her jaw ache, but she loved it. Desire peaked again, at higher tide. She felt a wild, silvery, weakening sensation flood through her veins. Not like compliance, not like her easy acceptance of a man leading the way in bed. No, it wasn’t that at all. This was more total, a submission to the thrill of him, and the way he could bend her any way he wanted her. It was so easy. And it made sex easy, but also strange and new.
She melted again, coasting towards new pleasure merely on the power of his kiss and the push of his tongue against hers. When he slid his hand down her thigh and pressed, her knees fell apart, surrendering and opening herself to him.
And she just lay like that – a boneless, displayed, available thing – while he roughly wrenched open the drawer and grabbed a condom.
‘Cover me,’ he commanded in a tight raw voice, hefting his cock in his fingers as if compelling her to worship it.
Sandy needed no encouragement. Suddenly it seemed as if his cock was designed solely for her to adore and service. With swift care, she ripped open the wrapper, teased out the rubber contraceptive and slipped it over his tip.
Jay’s eyes closed, and his head twisted to the side. For a moment, she thought she’d been too heavy-handed and hurt him, but then his hips bucked and he pushed forward, urging her to continue.
As she rolled and rolled and rolled, it dawned on her he was the biggest man she’d ever been with, and her pussy trembled as if with glee. Her ex-husband and her few carefully selected boyfriends had all been average, or puny, compared to Jay.
Suddenly, she wanted to see more of him, not just his stupendous cock. She began to pull and tug at his shirt, revealing the white vest he wore beneath it. She tried to push that up, out of the way, so she could see his abs and his chest, but he stopped her with an iron hand and a harshly growled ‘No!’
His eyes were furious, dark as rain-laden thunderclouds. Why was he so reluctant to let her see his body? Then it dawned on her.
Scars.
He had them on his face, but somewhere along the line she’d stopped noticing them, and now saw only his tough male beauty. But maybe they were worse, and more extensive, on his body?
Once again, she felt her will subsiding in the face of his. It was still there, perhaps stronger than ever, but his was greater, it overpowered her. If Jay said ‘no’, he meant ‘no’. She had to concede. It was what he wanted. No arguments.
To her surprise, she experienced no sense of pity for him, and his healed wounds, just the overpowering urge to bow down and kiss his feet and acknowledge his supremacy. Panting, gasping with a new voraciousness she didn’t quite understand, she subsided against the mattress and let her legs fall open even wider.
Take it. Push yourself in. It’s yours by right.
Their eyes met as he moved over her. Silent messages passed between them that were unquantifiable in words. But she understood … something … and wanted more of it.
As Jay’s latex-clad cock pressed against her sex, his hard lips curved into the faintest of small wry smiles. For a second, she struggled to divine it, then gave up the fight to do anything other than enjoy the all-consuming sensation of being filled and stretched and fucked.
Again she clung to him, compelled by an inchoate longing to climb inside him even as he pushed inside her. She grabbed onto his shirt and the back of his trousers, using them as leverage to push and push and push herself against him. Her feet hooked around the back of his calves, her body flexing to increase the contact and get as much of him inside her as was humanly possible.
Every sense was as sharp as a pin, yet the moment was dreamlike. She could feel every hard millimetre of his cock inside her, imposing its length and girth on the soft yielding walls of her sex. His weight bore down on her. His scent intoxicated her. The sharp rhythm of his breathing seemed to blend with the beat of her own heart as he thrust into her. And when she opened her eyes again, not quite remembering when she’d closed them, she saw a fugue state on his face that matched her own.
His expression was intense, but also contemplative, and he seemed far away, detached from her, apart. His eyes were closed, his incongruously long black eyelashes resting like arcs of silk against his cheekbones. Even his network of scars had acquired a strange and magical glamour.
The small thinking area of her mind wondered what he was thinking. Because she knew that he was thinking. Jay Bentley wasn’t a man who turned his mind off during sex. Jay Bentley was a man who used his faculties, all the time.
Despite the pleasure, the ever-growing, ever-swelling pleasure as he pounded into her, despite the thumping of their bodies against Kat’s less than immaculate mattress, Sandy felt a new plume of antagonism.
I’m here! It’s me! Fuck me, not some fantasy in your head!
Scrabbling at the back of his trousers, she pushed her hands inside them, and beneath the waistband of his half-pushed-down trunks. Her fingers flexing fiercely, she grabbed at the hard, tensing muscles of his buttocks.
His eyes flew open, flaring with light, as she dug in her nails and flung up her hips in time to the concerted, rhythmic pressure. Laughing, he ploughed her harder.
‘Witch!’ he hissed.
‘Bastard,’ she shot back, hysterical laughter of her own bubbling up.
They threw themselves at each other, scrabbling, jerking, battering each other with their bodies. Jay, bigger of course, got the better of it, imposing his strength and his hard-won athleticism upon her. He’d clawed his way back from terrible injuries, that was obvious, but now he was supreme and powerful. More so, she sensed, than he’d ever been. And she was the lucky woman reaping the benefits!
Each long hard lunge of his hips knocked their bodies together. Each knock pressed and tugged on her clit, relentlessly ramping up the pleasure. Still laughing, she growled with lust, yapping like an animal revelling, without conscious thought, in pure sensation.
When the orgasm came she shouted, her loins melting and her heart soaring with a transcendent exhilaration. Dimly aware that her cries would be clearly heard in the rest of the house, if not the next street, she only whooped louder and dug her nails hard into Jay’s backside.
Jay let out an oath, blue and profane, his own fingers flexing cruelly and digging into her as his body convulsed too. His pelvis jerked like a hammer and, in the midst of her own chaos, she felt the distinct lurch of his cock, and the heavy pulse of his semen pumping within her. He seemed to thrust on and on as if he’d not come for years.
Afterwards, it was
like emerging from the bunker after a twister had passed over. In a moment of pure panic, Sandy thought she’d lost the ability to breathe, until she realised that it was simply Jay’s weight lying on her that was hampering her chest and lungs. Bereft of strength, she pushed at him, shoving vaguely, like a Victorian consumptive on the edge of expiring. Luckily he got the message and, heaving himself off her, he rolled over onto his back, at her side.
‘Jesus.’ He huffed out his breath. ‘Jesus,’ he repeated, as if his entire vocabulary had been erased in the conflagration.
Typical man … He’s all shagged out and he’s almost forgotten there was anyone else involved.
Wallowing in entirely irrational disappointment, Sandy’s eyes filled with moisture, but she bit her lip, quashing the autonomic post-coital weepiness. How could she expect anything more of a man she’d only really spoken to for the first time tonight, and fallen into bed with like the easiest of trollops? She was worse than Kat. By a long chalk. Even her friend usually tried to get to know her boyfriends a bit before she dragged them into bed.
I’ve only got what I deserve.
Continuing to gnaw her lip, she prepared to sit up, but just then a warm hand patted and probed the bed at her side. When it found her hand, it clasped it, held on hard, then lifted their linked fingers.
The tears did come when Jay pressed a sweet and very soft kiss against her knuckles.
‘Thank you, Sandy. Thank you.’
Surreptitiously she wiped her face with her other hand, and stole a glance at him. Something in the fractured quality of his rough voice suggested that he might have been crying too. But his face looked composed. In fact, he was smiling. A broad smile, without guile or artifice.
The Gift Page 6
