Jay’s mouth yielded to her, moist and warm and tasting of tea. She slid her hands up and cradled his head on either side, her fingertips pressing against the fuzz on his closely shaven scalp. The velvety texture of it was so sensuous, as was the silky brush of his beard against her face as she savoured his lips and the tentative caress of his tongue. When he lifted his own hands to wrap his arms around her body, she silently told him she permitted it.
There was something very piquant about being naked on the knee of a clothed man. It was a strange kind of double nudity that licked across her skin with a special thrill. She shifted across his denim-clad thighs, caressing herself on him, rubbing her sex against the hardness of his muscle, and the other hardness, the solid knot at his groin. Leaning forward, she rubbed her breasts against his chest, abrading her nipples against his dark cotton T-shirt. As she tilted, her loose hair slid around her shoulders and across Jay as he held her. As it brushed against him, he moaned in his throat, transferring the sound into her mouth like the breath of life, as if the feel of her hair moving on his skin was a keen unique pleasure.
The feel of Jay’s hands roving over her back and flanks and hips was keen and pleasurable too. He touched her lightly, but somehow found every nice spot, every gracious place. It was more than sex, it was a deep contact, touching on a different level, communication flowing from skin to skin, mind to mind.
Even when the kiss broke, he rubbed his face against hers, his cheek against hers, circling, knowing, silently speaking.
Eventually of course, his fingers gravitated helplessly to her breasts, her sex. She made a soft sound, almost subvocal, of assent.
‘Princess, Princess, Princess,’ he murmured, thumbing her nipple as his other hand slipped boldly and unerringly between her sex lips. ‘You’re perfect, you know. Utterly delicious and wonderful. A treasure.’
‘Get away with you,’ she chided, her voice cracking as he fingered her. ‘You must have made free with dozens of fabulous women in your time. You’re obviously rich and handsome, they must be all over you, models and It Girls and whatever.’
His caress faltered momentarily. ‘Rich, yes,’ he admitted. ‘And I suppose I was a good-looking guy before the accident.’ His fingertip moved again, as slickly as before.
‘You’re good-looking now too, you fool,’ she gasped. ‘Kat thinks you’re as hot as hell, Greg notwithstanding. And everywhere we’ve been today, in the precinct and the pub, women were ogling you.’
Jay laughed, but she could tell he was pleased. Typical man.
‘I never noticed. I was too busy clocking all the men who were lusting after you.’ He backed off a little, but Sandy surged forward, not letting him tease her.
‘Now!’ she commanded. ‘I’ve had enough of this shilly-shallying about. If you don’t get the job done, I will do it myself.’ Tightening her arms around him, she pressed her mouth to his neck and lightly bit him.
‘Yes, Princess!’ he growled, his finger circling harder.
It took but seconds, and she howled with pleasure, laughing along with him as she came, her sex pulsing, her legs kicking, her bottom wiggling and working.
He held her, close and quiet, until her body settled and the tension left her, replaced by loose and mellow languor. She moved slowly, still nuzzling against him. Why did it feel, again and again, as if they’d known each other far longer than just a day?
‘So, this vibrator,’ he said at last. ‘What’s it like? Where did you get it? How often do you use it?’
‘Oh, you men, you always want to know a girl’s secrets.’ She felt amenable, expansive. She could tell him a few little tantalising titbits, couldn’t she? He’d just given her an exquisite orgasm, the latest in what seemed like an endless stream of them.
‘Indulge me.’
Was the balance tipping again? He sounded determined. His arms were still light around her, but she sensed his dominant spirit rising. It was as intrinsic to him, and as hard core, as the erection that still jutted, poking against her bottom.
‘OK. It’s pink and it’s plastic and it’s not very sophisticated. Just a cheap buzzing tube, really.’
‘But it works, I assume, doesn’t it?’ His mouth opened against her neck, just as hers had opened against his.
‘Yes. You could say that.’
‘Good orgasms?’
‘Yes, very good. It’s cheap, but it’s a bit of a beast.’
‘Splendid.’ He started kissing, nuzzling. He was just playing, she could tell, but it felt good. Sort of semi-sexy. ‘So where did you acquire this inexpensive treasure?’
Sandy smiled, remembering a fun night.
‘Oh, Kat had a sex-toy party. Just a few mates around, to choose from catalogues and play with samples. Several bottles of wine and a lot of nibbles.’
Jay sighed happily. ‘Ah, like a sexy college girls’ sleepover party?’
‘A bit like that. But no skimpy pyjamas or pillow fights. Just a lot of boozing and giggling but no funny business.’
‘What, no girl on girl?’ Mock disappointment.
‘No!’
‘OK, so what else did you buy? Any other naughty knickknacks you can tell me about?’
There had been plenty of choice. Dildos, vibrators, alarming-looking butt plugs and beads. Some fairly soft porn videos, directed by a woman for women. Lots and lots of extremely trashy underwear, none of which she’d bought.
‘Knickers.’ She giggled. ‘I bought some naughty knickers and a bra with peepholes.’
Jay’s hands tightened on her, pressing her down on his cock through his jeans. Ah, men, they were such primitive beasts really, even the mysterious ones with pots of money and fancy cars. Show them a bit of sexy tat and they got the horn. Or even more of the horn, in the case of the man beneath her.
‘Details, woman, details!’ he ordered, growling.
‘Um … they were red. Nylon. With black lace and marabou trim. Kat didn’t have my size, so I took a chance on a smaller set. When I got them on they were very tight.’
‘Better and better.’ A large warm hand cupped her breast, gentle but hungry. ‘Did your nipples poke out of the little holes, because of the tightness?’
‘Yes, a bit. Well, a lot actually. And the lace tickled. It made my nipples harden every time I wore it.’
‘And what about the panties? Were they little too? Did they fit your perfect little pussy like a glove?’
Sandy smiled, her face hidden from him. She knew what he’d probably like to hear.
‘They were split up the middle, and they gaped open because they were tight. They didn’t cover much.’
‘I think I just died and went to heaven,’ Jay purred. ‘Did you wear these luscious items often then? Did you wear them when you were with men? To tantalise them, just the way you’re tantalising me now?’
Should she compound the lie, or tell a sort of truth?
‘No, I never wore them for a man.’
‘Would you wear them for me, next time we’re together?’ She shot up on his knee. He was laughing. He knew she’d been fibbing, that was obvious.
‘Oh, all right already. I haven’t got any split-crotch knickers or a peephole bra.’ She felt hot again. Her entire body seemed to be blushing. When she looked down there was a pinkish bloom to her breasts and her belly and limbs.
‘You’re such a little fibber,’ he said equably, sliding his hand behind her neck and pulling him back to her for a kiss that was slow yet not probing. Almost quizzical. When they parted again he was frowning a little.
And just what are you fibbing to me about, Mister?
She stared at his face, searching for something, anything. Even while she still wanted him.
‘What is it?’
The words ‘who are you?’ balanced on the end of her tongue, but remained unspoken. Instead she said, on the spur of the moment, ‘I was just wondering what you looked like without the beard.’
Jay cocked his head on one side, rubbing the side of his goatee. �
��Just the same. Only with less whiskers, and a few more scars on show.’
Sandy frowned, scrunched up her eyes, peered at him. There was something. A fleeting likeness. Even though she’d just blurted out the notion, she did try to imagine him clean-shaven. Younger. Unscarred. Different.
No, it was ridiculous. There was probably no likeness at all.
And it was a weird place to go too. They needed a distraction, and she knew where to find one. She massaged her bottom against his thighs and his erection again.
‘Don’t you … um … need something?’
She adjusted her weight on his lap and reached down to curve her fingers over the bulge beneath the denim.
‘Yes, I do, Princess, I do. All this talk of sexy lingerie and sex toys has made me hornier than I was before.’ He placed his large hand over hers, exerted pressure. ‘If that’s possible, given that around you I’m automatically in lust.’
‘Shall we … um …’ Under her hand she felt a jerk, a slight surge as he thickened even more.
‘Fuck?’ Jay’s grin widened. ‘My dear, I thought you’d never ask.’ His mouth settled on hers again, the kiss quick and deep this time, the opposite of before. ‘But I think I need a shower first. How about you? Would you like one?’
‘Together?’
Again the frown came. She got the distinct impression he was reluctant to let her see his body and its scars. Were they worse than the ones on his face, that had obviously had a lot of fine work done on them? She suspected they were, if the ones she’d seen near his groin were anything to go by. Would he insist on switching out the lights before they finally got naked, skin on skin, in a bed?
‘Maybe not, then,’ she pre-empted. With a last pat at his equipment, she rose from his lap as gracefully as she could. He caught her hand as she rose, and let her fingers trail through his as she moved away in the direction of the bathroom. The sensation was slight, but strangely poignant and stirring.
She turned at the door and he was staring at her, his eyes intent, his body still roused, his lips pursed and thoughtful.
Sequestered in the bathroom, Sandy peed, then just sat on the toilet for several minutes, thinking. What was she doing here with this man? Involved so intimately. Again and again, the words ‘who are you?’ tolled in her brain. She’d plunged deeper into sex with Jay than with any man she’d ever known, even her ex-husband, whom she’d married too young and without really knowing. They’d separated amicably, long before she’d experienced anything like the craving, the yearning, the raw lust she’d felt for Jay in little more than twenty-four hours.
The shower refreshed her. The hot water was copious and the shower gel and other toiletries luxurious. She coiled her hair into a loose knot, bound it up with the sash from one of the robes hung on the back of the door, and tried to keep the curls that dangled and trailed from getting too wet.
As she wound one of the bath sheets around herself, and rubbed a bit of moisturiser from one of the complimentary sachets on her face, she studied the toiletries that belonged to the man whose bathroom it was.
High-end cologne and skin balm, a razor that looked as if it’d been designed for NASA, rechargeable battery toothbrush, hand-made soap from a fragrance boutique in Bond Street. The man lived well and cared for his battered body with the finest grooming products money could buy.
Questions, questions, questions batted around in her head, ones she knew she should get answers for, but really didn’t want to. The only way to stop thinking was to get back out there, and start touching and fucking and communicating in the way that worked perfectly for them.
‘Your turn.’
Jay opened his eyes at the sound of her voice from the bathroom doorway. He’d been dozing, floating lightly on troubled seas of thoughts and desires, his mind switchbacking from rampant lust, and fantasies of kink and exploration, to tender feelings of yearning, remorse and almost adolescent confusion. He spun from being the Jay of now, damaged but worldly wise, to the Jay of yesteryear, who’d been entranced by a fairytale beauty whom he’d met for mere moments.
What would have happened to his life if he’d been able to stay back then, not had a girlfriend or an itinerary? Sandy and he could have been together now, legitimately and with no secrets.
Fucking hell, they might even have been married!
He’d never wanted that until now, never thought about it. But now it had smacked into him like a pile-driver and left him lying there, reeling.
And now she was here, a vision of innocent femininity, despite all they’d done together. Bundled in a thick white robe and with her magical hair tumbling around her shoulders. His cock kicked and his heart slowly turned over.
‘Thanks. Enjoy your shower?’ He had to force the words out. His throat was tight, and he couldn’t think straight. He wanted to throw her on the bed and ravish her. He wanted to hold her and cherish her and keep her from all harm. Bloody hell, he wanted to be anybody but Jason Bentley Forbes, who she’d probably hate when she came to know his true identity.
‘Yes, thanks.’ It was all comfort and no comfort that she seemed to be having similar problems. Jay sprang to his feet, vacating his place on the bed. He felt as awkward as a youth, and made a vague gesture for her to take his place. It was like battling his way through a storm, trying to stand by, looking casual and normal as she slid past him and sat down on the side of the bed.
‘How about a drink? What would you like? More tea? A glass of wine?’
Get a fucking grip, man! What’s wrong with you?
‘A water, please. I can get it myself.’ She sprang to her feet again and he grabbed her hand, urging her back onto the bed.
‘No, I’ll get it. Why don’t you have a snooze? Rest up for …’
What the hell is the matter with you, half-wit? What are you, fifteen now?
‘OK. Thanks.’
The small action of pouring the water into the glass and adding ice calmed and centred him. But he knew he had to get into the bathroom and sort himself out before he did something completely gauche, insane. God alone knew what.
‘Won’t be long.’ He gave her a smile he feared looked half-mental and strode into the bathroom without looking back, closing the door with infinite care behind him.
‘Jesus, what’s happening to me?’ he whispered as he leaned on the door and wished he was back in the room, holding her in his arms, and, fuck, climbing on top of her.
Fully dressed, he dragged the shower screen open and turned the water on, running icy cold. His arm and the shoulder of his T-shirt were drenched, but he barely noticed it.
He stared at his face in the mirror and didn’t recognise himself. It wasn’t the first time he’d had that feeling since his surgery, far from it. But today, he knew himself less than ever before.
I look wrong. This isn’t me.
He felt a surge of horror, a panic that he squashed with difficulty. Turning away, he unzipped and urinated, trying not to think. But as he flushed, he stared back at himself, at his face. And suddenly he knew there was something he could do. He crossed to the mirror, reached for his razor and fiddled with the settings until he found the required one. Applying it to his face, he began to remove his beard.
Sandy lay on the bed, sipping her water, trying to relax, as Jay had urged.
Fat chance of that.
He’d been weird, slightly spaced out, and had as good as run into the bathroom. What was the matter with him? One minute rampant sex god, the next, a distant and distracted stranger. OK, he was a stranger, but a few minutes ago he’d seemed even more unknown than ever.
From her spot on the bed she perused his belongings again just as she’d checked out his toiletries in the bathroom. A couple of beautiful jackets hung over the front of the wardrobe, and what looked like hand-made shoes were lined up against the wall. On the chest of drawers his laptop sat, intriguing her. It was probably crammed with his personal information but not even her raging curiosity about him could compel her to open it and
have a snoop. He probably had it password-protected anyway, even if she could overcome her qualms.
Set beside the lappie, the pigskin attaché case was closed but its latches were popped open. Curiosity brought her to a sitting upright position. She bit her lip, then set aside her drink.
She listened to the sounds from the bathroom. The shower was running and had been for a while, and before that she’d heard the loo flush, and a buzzing sound, obviously the razor he used to trim his neat goatee.
She slid to her feet and stood beside the bed.
No, no, no!
Which was more dangerous, the attaché case? Or the bathroom, where the man himself was? She wanted to know about him, desperately, but she couldn’t bring herself to spy like a cheap little cheat.
Another, greater curiosity flared, one that made her feel even more uncomfortable. She thought again about his scars.
Obviously they bothered him, but she wanted to show him that they didn’t bother her.
But what if they did?
The only way was to face them. If she wanted more from him, and suddenly she did, his scarred body had to be dealt with.
Padding to the bathroom door, the thud of her heart almost deafened her. She dragged in a breath and placed her fingers on the handle, but lightly, so as not to rattle it. Looking back at the bed, she hesitated. She could return there, switch on the television, distract herself that way. Instead, she turned the handle and slid into the steamy room, stepping quietly and easing the door shut behind her.
Beyond the frosted screen, the figure in the shower turned towards her instantly, blurred by the pattern of the glass, but looking not quite as she’d expected. She could see marks on his body, even through the screen, but it was the face that made her frown, confused.
The Gift Page 15
