by Ash Harlow
“Ah…let’s see.” He raked his hand through his hair, and fuck, it made it look even better than ever. “You mentioned something about the clothes, about feeling unworthy. That was a phrase Annabelle used to trot out. I think she thought it made her sound sincere. I’m sure you wouldn’t bullshit me about something like that, Darcy.”
My heart thumped hard, accelerating at the thought of Oliver still being fragile about Annabelle. “I do feel unworthy, Oliver. That’s genuine. Sometimes I feel as though we’re tearing along at breakneck speed, especially when you do things like spend so much money on clothing for me.”
“It gives me pleasure.”
“As long as you know I don’t expect it. I don’t want anything from you.”
He watched me with those licorice eyes as if searching for the one thing that would allow him to cement his belief in me. I wanted to give that to him, wanted him to know that I would be honest and truthful to him from this moment forward, but in order for that to happen, we had to leave my past alone.
I turned it back onto him. “If you ever want to tell me about Annabelle, I’m happy to listen.”
His fingers grazed my neck and across my shoulder, and my need for him consumed me. I didn’t want to know about Annabelle tonight, about the woman he’d loved deeply enough that he’d asked her to marry him, but I knew that for us to move forward we had to have that conversation some day. And with that would logically come questions about Rob. It was only fair.
Perhaps we’d be better off both holding our secrets.
“She’s not important.”
His eyes were aflame with hunger, the air between us charged and dry. When he took my glass of barely touched scotch from me and placed it back on the table, I was surprised there wasn’t an arc connecting our hands. He seized my hand and stood, drawing me from my seat, leading me out of the sitting room, along the vast hallway and into the master bedroom. Instead of words he used a trail of kisses along my jaw, down my neck and across my shoulder, slipping the thin strap of my dress so that it hung loose down to my elbow.
“You stun me in this dress, and you blow me away naked. Turn around.”
His voice still affected me the same way it had the first day we met. I did as asked, swivelling in the heels I wore to face the bed.
The kisses continued, down my exposed spine sending a ray of heat along my nerves. His mouth followed the slow glide of the zipper and everything about me tightened, trying to hold the sensation and the moment in place. I’d never been treated this way, my body worshiped, and I had this need to contain it lest I fall and smash into a million fine shards.
The delicate fabric of my dress collapsed with a languid shiver at my feet.
“All night I thought about looking at you in this underwear, and now,” he nipped with his teeth at the top of the soft lace of my panties, “the only thing I want to do is get it off you as quickly as I can.”
I reached for the waistband to rid myself of them but a firm grip on my wrist stopped me.
“Keep your hands at your side, I’ll do this.”
He knelt behind me. In the mirror I could see him completely focused on my half-naked body. He still wore his suit pants, his shirt loosened at the neck. His jacket lay abandoned in the sitting room.
He had me step out of my panties that he’d rushed to my ankles. “Shoes stay on,” he muttered releasing my bra with a quick flick. “Walk toward the bed.”
I stepped forward until he ordered me to stop.
“Bend over and rest your upper body on the bed.”
I was still some distance away and to obey him put me in an erotic pose, ass high, legs stretched.
“Fuck me, Darcy, you’re stunning.” His hand ran quickly up the back of my thigh, squeezing my buttock, holding my flesh tight until I gasped. He toe-tapped my legs further apart, never relinquishing his hold on me. I ached for something more than a motionless, clamped hand. It pulled arousal from my depths so that between my legs felt swollen, achy, wet.
A finger traced the back of my other thigh down to the back of my knee, hard, pressing in a way that drew all that desire from my pussy down the back of my legs.
“Please, Oliver.”
“Begging already?”
“Yeah, begging.”
He moved his finger, up, up, and all I wanted was it stabbing inside me.
“Tell me what you want.”
“You. All of you.”
His response was a huffed breath and a motionless finger.
“Let me tell you what I want. I want this.” His hand fluttered between my legs, stopping when it struck the slick wetness at my entrance. “And here, right here.” He moved onward across the ripple of my ribs to tap at my chest, my heart. “And right up here, this clever mind.” He cradled the top of my head now, turning it slightly as he stepped in behind me. The fabric of his pants brushed against one thigh sending a shock of sensation even though the brush of cloth was light.
“Here you go.” Responding to my tremor, Oliver pushed his hard thigh between mine. I was shameless as I backed onto it, gripping tight.
“Wanton hussy. Perfect,” he said, layering himself, one shirt button after another over the notches of my spine. My head remained twisted, right cheek flat against the bed, held there by his splayed hand. Then his lips met my ear. “You’re making my pants wet. They’ll need to go to the cleaners. I’ve scarcely touched you and you’re ready for me.”
All I could do was nod. Our breathing was already intermingled and rough so that I found it unnecessary to respond with words.
He released my head and I listened to the scrape of his zipper, felt the insistent, needy press of his hard cock.
“I’m going to fuck you hard, Darcy, because you’ve teased me all night long.”
Then he was gone, his presence missed like air. I heard the slide of a drawer and the unmistakable sound of the tearing of a foil package. I turned, wanting to see him but he was behind me in seconds, obscured from sight, although his presence filled the room. Then, the exquisite pressure at my entrance. As he sank into me I flattened against the bed cover.
He barely gave me time to adjust to his size, the way he filled me, before he withdrew and plunged into me again. I whimpered. It was a sound to coat my pleasure.
Oliver slipped his hand beneath my throat, lifting me from the bed, holding me, my back arched to him as he continued to fuck as hard as he promised.
“I never knew two people could fit together so perfectly, Darcy.”
His thrusts were relentless. His hand around my throat became an odd sort of comfort, making me feel so vulnerable, yet cared for because he chose not to choke me. I must be crazy, but the way he fucked me took me to a primitive place in my mind that allowed me simply to be part of this mass of energy we created.
I’d never felt anything like it. Close to shattering, I’d be nothing more than glittery matter, dust motes fluttering in a shaft of light, if I allowed an orgasm to rise up and take me. It lingered, poised, waiting for the touch of a finger to my clit, the match to my fuse, a signal to detonate.
I said his name, over and over, pleading that this was too much.
“It’s not, it’s perfect. I want you to come with me, Darcy, fuck, tell me when you’re ready.”
“You’ll break me,” I said.
“And I’ll put you back together. Ready?”
His other hand slipped to the front of me, fingers splayed.
“Ready?” He asked again, his voice deep and harsh.
“I can’t,” I moaned, overcome, talking nonsense.
The hand on my throat slipped up to cover my mouth at the same time his fingers slid further down my front to my clit. I threw my hands behind me, grabbing his sides.
“You’re okay,” he soothed. “Come with me, on the count of three, come with me, princess.”
He thrust three more times, counting down, rubbing my sensitive nub, and when he called out my name as he buried himself deep inside me, my orgasm shat
tered me. I’d never seen stars before, but everything went bright as Oliver forced me to ride the waves of pleasure that swamped me.
Finally he eased me down. Down onto the bed, down from the wild ride we’d just taken. I heaved breaths through his fingers and he eased up his hold, stroking my cheek, holding my pussy in a firm grip, rocking me gently as we lay now, spooning on the bed.
I was a tree felled by a ferocious storm.
“I’ll never move again,” I muttered.
Oliver’s lips worked gently on the back of my neck, his breath over my skin soothing me. My hair was plastered to my face, my neck damp, and our perspiration mingled as he continued to tend to me.
“You amaze me, Darcy. You’re fucking stunning.”
“Thank you. This might sound trite, but it’s never been like this for me before.”
“Are you broken?” he said with a light chuckle.
“Repaired,” I told him.
Seventeen
Oliver
“The camera loves you, Darcy.” I pushed the newspaper over to her and she slammed her palm flat over the photo.
“Nope, not looking at anything in that section. It’s gossip, Oliver.”
We sat on the apartment balcony eating breakfast. I’d offered to take Darcy out somewhere but she said she preferred to lounge around in her robe for a bit. I didn’t mind in the least. I’d ducked out and bought coffee, pastries, some fruit, and the morning papers.
“What are they saying?” she asked.
“Ah-ha, see, you really do want to read it.”
“No, look, this is better; great write up about Tradewind, and they used the bit you sneaked in about the fundraiser. Nice work.” Darcy pushed the paper she was reading across the table to me. “We need to maximize the interest in the award through the press. I’ll get you some radio and television slots, too. Once they find out the country’s most successful exporter is hosting a fundraiser, the charity A-listers will be all over it. I need to get onto this while it’s hot. Pass me my phone.”
I grabbed her hand as she reached for her phone. “It’s Sunday, you’re supposed to be taking a day off. Slow down, Darcy.”
“The media never sleep.”
“Neither do you if last night was anything to go by.”
“Can’t help it if I’m sharing a bed with the sexiest man in New Zealand.”
“New Zealand?”
“All right, the world, happy?” I teased.
“Better.”
“Good. Now, you can give me my phone.”
I dropped it down the front of my T-shirt and spread my arms.
“You’re in trouble, Sackville, if you want me to dive down there to retrieve it.”
“I love your trouble, Darcy, but sadly, we need to get back to Waitapu. Drinks at the boatyard this afternoon for the staff.”
Darcy jumped up. “Right, tell me what I have to do.”
“Shower. And don’t look too sexy, or I’ll drag you back to bed.”
Darcy came around the table and straddled my lap. Her robe fell open and I tried to ignore her breasts. She spider-walked her fingers up my chest, tucking them behind the neck of my T-shirt, then slid her hand down the front. Her hand was cool, and I sat there while she played around, pretending to search for her phone, tweaking a nipple as she slid her hand around. After last night, my cock should have been begging for a holiday, but, nope, it was ready to go again. I seized her hips and held her firmly on my lap. She wriggled on me and gave a little moan.
“Are you wearing anything under this robe?” I pulled the front open so that I had full view of her breasts. We had to get back to Waitapu, but I wanted more of Darcy, now. Compared to how she’d been when we arrived in Auckland, she seemed completely relaxed. Her playfulness was invigorating, and every hour, this was feeling more like a relationship.
Relationship. I thought that idea would trouble me more than it did.
“Why don’t you see for yourself,” Darcy replied. Her hand was making its way out from behind my T-shirt and I grabbed her wrist through the cloth.
“Drop the phone,” I growled.
She ducked her head down and bit my wrist. I grabbed a fist of hair at the back of her neck and tilted her head back.
“Play nice, or there’ll be trouble.”
She responded with a saucy grin.
“You like that idea, don’t you?”
Darcy gave my cheek a quick peck then swung off my lap. “Can’t say. I have to shower.”
I pulled her back to me. “Kiss me like you mean it.”
She folded against me and gave me her mouth. She tasted of coffee and the fresh pineapple she’d been eating. And she kissed me the way she fucked, without shame or mercy. I took her shoulders and stood her back up.
“The guy on the balcony over there is getting all hot and bothered.” I slid my hand up her thigh and found her naked pussy. “Not happy that he might have got a glimpse of this, bad girl. Into the shower with you.”
I watched the sway of her beneath the filmy robe as she set off for the bathroom. My siren. Her appeal impossible to resist. I hoped she wouldn’t wreck me.
Eighteen
Darcy
By Wednesday I’d hardly had time to catch my breath. Oliver had done three television interviews at the boatyard, and twice that number for magazines, news outlets and radio. I loved watching him in action. He was a natural at this stuff and I teased him that any moment now he’d be getting calls from both major political parties to stand at the next elections.
I’d just had a call, a bolt from the blue, and I could barely stop myself from skipping along the hall to his office. The door was closed, but Gail had told me Oliver was expecting me and to go on in. I knocked first, catching his muffled call to enter.
I pushed the door closed behind me, pressing myself against it.
Oliver was on the phone, but he glanced up and gave me a big smile. He owned this space. His presence filled it in a way I’d never seen a person do before, as if by just occupying the room, there was no place for anyone else. I’d been around some serious hitters in the past, but not one had ruled their space like a kingdom the way Oliver did.
He pushed back from his desk and waved me around to his side. I guessed by the mocking banter going on that he was talking to Luther. I really wanted to get along with Oliver’s best friend but there was something forced in the way he dealt with me, as if I wasn’t to be trusted. As if he wanted to protect his friend from making a terrible mistake.
Worse, Luther unnerved me. He was a lawyer, and lawyers know how to get information. So Luther gave me dark looks, which he excelled at, and I was reduced to a state of stupidity whenever I tried to have a conversation with him. I sympathized with Ginger who found herself in a similar state when she was in Luther’s firing line, except her issue was all about lust, rather than trust.
I perched on the corner of the desk waiting for the call to finish. Oliver rolled his chair toward me, reaching for the hem of my skirt, tugging, trying to get me to shift toward him. I shook my head and frowned. Although it was late in the day, there were still a number of staff about. Gail was leaving when I arrived, and without Oliver’s PA as sentry, anyone could barge in.
Anyway, I had news for Oliver and I didn’t want to be distracted before I had the chance to discuss it with him.
He finished his call. “Why are you over there?” He gave my skirt hem an extra hard tug.
“Because you have an obscenely large desk, Oliver. I can’t imagine why you need something this big.”
“I have big ideas, and big meetings, and I build big boats.”
“You also have a big boardroom where you can discuss your big ideas with your big brainy team.”
“Sometimes we don’t make it that far. I’ve got a different big idea for this desk right now.” He shoved his laptop away from the spot in front of him. “Why don’t you come and sit here,” he slapped his hand on the space he’d just cleared. “Hike up your skirt, put you
r feet here,” he said, pointing to the arms of the chair, “and I’ll lick your gorgeous pussy until you purr.”
A tide of desire washed through me. I eyed the desk, flicked my gaze over to Oliver with his beautiful smirking mouth, and shook my head. “Not happening; I’ve got something to tell you. It’s even better than my pussy.”
Oliver snorted. “I doubt that, unless you’re about to confess you have two pussies and the other one’s a virgin.”
“Why? Have you got two cocks?”
“I could work something out.”
“Serious now.” I pulled my skirt from his grip and crossed to the other side of his desk to face Oliver because I couldn’t stand being this close to him when he was talking about my pussy.
“Fire away, Miss Darcy. What is your news?”
“Pearl’s management just called. She’s offering to sing at the fundraiser, and to host a table. We can sell tickets for an obscene price for those rich enough to sit and have dinner with her. She’ll stay the entire evening. Apparently she’s recording at Reuben Creed’s studio on Ahunui over summer, and you know she has the big anti-drug thing going on.”
“Fuck me, Darcy. That’s massive. New Zealand’s biggest singing star. One of the biggest in the world right now. How on earth did you swing it?”
I shrugged. I had no idea. “Apparently, she saw one of your television interviews, knew she’d be in the area, and decided to ‘give something back’ as they say.”
“How do we lock this down?”
“I have to go to Auckland tomorrow. They want to meet with me at 10:30, so it’ll be an early start. I should set off now, drive up and stay in a hotel.”
Oliver came around the desk. “Look at you: Miss Cool, all flustered.”
“Shit, Oliver, what if I get to meet her? I have her music. I know all the words.”
“Well, you can offer to sing a duet. Seriously,” he said, stepping behind me and rubbing my tense shoulders, “you’ll be fine. I’m sure her people are lovely. Luther’s going to Auckland first thing in the helicopter so you can travel up with him.”
