by Ellen March
“Well, I’ve had my fill of the other side for one night. Mind if I ring for a taxi?” Amy was already dialling off the landline. “Five minutes, okay?” She sat down to wait. “You back at work on Monday?”
Grace joined her. Breece leaned against the wall, deep in thought. He still couldn’t believe Chelsea had been the one to run him down, and he was still in shock at what he’d witnessed.
“Got to be there. Sage has booked an appointment with the shrink.”
“He hasn’t!” Amy slapped a hand over her mouth and tried to suppress a giggle. It slipped out anyway.
“Yep, first thing in the morning. He thinks I’m nuts, thanks to a certain person.” Tossing a glare at Breece. She was still smarting over his extreme reaction at the supermarket and how obnoxious he’d been when Amy had first arrived. She concluded he was a stubborn, insensitive bastard. Then dropped the “insensitive”; “opinionated” was a more apt description.
A loud toot rang out. “Think that’s your taxi.” Grace walked Amy to the door and gave her a swift kiss on the cheek. “See you Monday! Sage is over tomorrow.”
Shit, she thought, it was like a bloody turnstile—one in, one out. She prayed Breece would behave and not cause problems. Closing the door, she gave a short shake of her head. That would be asking for a miracle.
She tilted her head. He looked troubled, and he hadn’t moved from his spot. “Okay, spit it out. What’s wrong?”
Breece glanced up, looking startled. He had been miles away. His thoughts centred on Chelsea, what he’d done to cause such jealously, to provoke such a reaction. Had he been such an insensitive bastard, taking women without thought? He wondered how Chelsea had died. Car accident? Suicide? It must have been from recklessness. The woman didn’t have a conscience; that was clear. Then he recalled again her face on the TV. The situation was becoming, if possible, even more surreal. He still felt he would wake up and find it was all a dream. Except that he didn’t sleep anymore, didn’t need to.
“It’s nothing,” he told Grace. “What’s this about a shrink?” He hadn’t really been listening to Amy and Grace’s conversation, but had picked up on a few words.
“Sage thinks there’s something wrong with me.” She crossed to the mirror and examined her neck, just where it arched, dipping into her shoulder. It was a mass of red and purple marks where Breece insisted on biting when he came. “How the hell am I going to explain this to him?”
Breece shrugged. He hoped the good doctor would fuck off and leave her, that they’d have a blazing row over it.
“You’re a lot of help.” Again she stared at him. “Come on, what is it?”
He’d been scared tonight, for her, but he wasn’t telling her that. She’d aroused so many emotions in him, ones he hadn’t known existed. And he wished he’d met her when he was alive, could have a life with her, enjoy her gutsy, carefree laugh, share her hot chilli, make wild unrestrained love, and then wake up next to her every morning for the rest of his life.
Instead his lips curved into a grin. “I want to fuck you.”
Giving him a whisper of a smile, she crossed the room and looped her arms around his neck. She stood on tiptoe. “Ditto,” She said, flicking her tongue across his lips.
Breece wound his arms around her and held her tight. His lips smashed across hers, his tongue slipped inside, and his hands dropped, holding the cheeks of her ass and pressing her against him. “Feel how hard I am for you, baby.”
“You going to do anything about it?” She squealed when he scooped her into his arms, and cradling her, strode out of the room.
“Hit the switch,” he said. Leaving the lounge, he took the stairs two at a time. Once in her room, he threw her onto the bed. His gaze seared her as he tugged at his T-shirt and pulled it over his head.
Grace leaned back on her elbows, her gray eyes glowing over him. She waited for him to shrug out of his bottoms. And when he did, her attention lit on his heavy erection, standing stiff and proud.
He joined her on the bed. “Think you’re overdressed.” His hands raced over her with the deftness of a lover familiar with every inch of her body.
Grace loved the skin to skin contact, how he talked to her, his dirty little messages telling her in graphic detail what he was going to do. And all the while he danced a trail of seduction over her body, his hands and mouth conducting a delicious medley of lust.
“I’m going to stick my cock in you, baby, so hard you’ll be begging me to stop.”
“Never.” Her breath blew hot over his neck. She nipped her way along his throat, pausing to bite and suck—just as he did to her, setting her brand. Breece threw his head back, encouraging her, and Grace felt a heady excitement. A sexual feast was hers for the taking. Just that simple action made her horny as hell.
“You sure about that?” He pinched her nipple, and twirling it, tugged until it rose hard. He nipped, and her body arched into him.
“Breece, roll over,” she whispered. “I want to ride you.” She didn’t wait for his answer, pushing against him till he was flat on his back. Grace glanced down. Fuck, but he was one big bastard! She straddled him, rubbing her clit up and down against his erection. She smoothed her juices over him, showing him how wet she was for him. Her hands rested on his waist, and his were tight around her hips.
“Sit on this, baby, now, before I throw you over and take you.”
Grinning, she covered him and gave a shriek. He pulled her down, hard, at the same time driving up, impaling her on him.
“Sweetheart, you feel so good.” He closed his eyes.
Her hips grinding against him, she began rocking and writhing, her movements becoming more frantic as the heat began to roil in her belly.
She arched and canted against him, riding his cock with wild abandon. She leaned over him, taking him deep, and her sex clenched and pulled him hard. Skin to flesh, she rode him with crazy, wild abandon.
Her mouth trawled over every bit of skin it touched—kissing, licking, sucking, tasting him as his wicked cock slammed in deep. It filled her as she had come to expect. Correction: not just filled her, but blasted her into sweet oblivion. She closed her eyes and gripped him, rubbing against his delicious prick, the soft pubes that bristled against hers.
“Grace, you’re amazing.” He thrust up into her. He was inches from coming. Her abandonment as she rode him was driving him wild. Every stroke scored across him; the relentless shivers of bliss shattered him.
Her arms wound around his neck. Her tits flattened to his chest, and she bucked into him. His hands held her tight, not letting her move a smidgeon away from him. She wriggled her hips against him, seeking to enjoy every wondrous inch of cock that thundered into her.
Breece licked across her lips and forged a path of kisses across her face, down her throat and along her shoulder. In a sexual frenzy, he slammed his hips up into her. His cock throbbed and he ached to explode into her, to come with the ferocity of a storm. His hands ran up and down her body, grazed over her sexy ass. The swell of it filled the palm of his hand. He slapped down hard.
“Oh God!” She lurched into him.
He nipped at her throat. “Again?”
“Please?” She arched into his dick as he slapped her. “Oh Christ!” The first wave of her orgasm blew over her. It ransacked all thought and reasoning, took away all common sense. She cried aloud, gripping his neck, and her nails scored his skin as she rubbed hard against him.
Breece groaned. Her muscles clenched him tight, and he closed his eyes, slammed up into her and exploded. His spunk surged out, spurted up in a torrent. “Oh Christ, Grace, what the hell are you doing to me?” he muttered.
“Fucking you, I hope.” She tried not to grin. She’d finished her orgasm and was letting him ride the wave of his own.
“It’s a damn sight more than that, baby.” Finally seeking the edge of his climax, he hitched the last thrust up into her. Holding her tight, he rolled her over but stayed nestled inside her silky warmth.
They faced each other. Breece pushed her hair back gently, enjoying its silky texture, then leaned his forehead against hers. “So, what will happen tomorrow?”
“You know what. Sage stays.”
“I can’t get used to this. I’m not sure I can cope.” There, he had said the words.
Hers were not quite what he wanted back.
“You don’t have a choice.” She avoided his eyes; it was easier that way.
“There’s always a choice,” said Breece. His hand dropped down and travelled over her body, dipped into her waist, and fanned out over her hips.
“It’s either job-share or nothing.”
“Grace, fucking you isn’t a job!” His temper exploded yet again. He just couldn’t understand her reasoning.
“Will you listen to me?” she said, anguished. “I need a living man, and I also want sex. Sage fulfils one need, you the other.” She closed her eyes. She knew what that sounded like. “Can I help it if I’m a selfish bitch?” she added softly.
How could she explain to him all the complex reasons she stayed with Sage? He had chosen her, her, an insignificant, podgy woman with no prospects. How did you refuse such an honour? The fantasy of Sage persisted, all evidence to the contrary. Hadn’t the fairy tales told her that handsome meant good? She had mooned over Sage for such a long time, and then he had chosen her …. She felt as if she’d won the lotto, and now she was still waiting for the big payoff that apparently would never come.
Breece remained silent, almost as if he were reading her thoughts, beginning to understand just how little she valued herself. “So, how do we cope this weekend?”
She moved back. His cock had gone down at her words and slipped out, and reluctantly he shifted out of her.
“I don’t know,” she was forced to admit, “but it’s Sage’s turn. We only have sex on Saturdays, so there’s no worry, and you’ve seen what I sleep in.” She tried to comfort him, make it easier. Hell, she couldn’t get her head around it herself.
* * *
Grace was relieved that Breece had made himself scarce. When Sage arrived, the temperature in the room dropped. Breece faded and she hoped he wasn’t simply invisible, but had gone walkabout. She wandered through the house to see if she could sense his presence but found no sign of him.
She breathed a sigh of relief.
Sage studied her. “Is anything wrong?”
“No, why should there be?”
“You seem to be tense, on edge almost.” He crossed the lounge and into the kitchen, opening the fridge. “I see you still insist on drinking.” He checked the contents and pulled out a packet of chocolate biscuits, holding them up in a pincer grip as if handling something out of a science experiment. “What are these doing here? Have you forgotten what I’ve told you?”
“They’re Amy’s.” Grace didn’t flinch from lying, laying the blame at her friend’s door. “She was over last night.”
He flicked the bin with the tip of his toe and dropped them in. “That’s where they belong.”
Grace made a mental note to retrieve them when he wasn’t looking.
Sage hunkered down and continued to check her supplies. He shook his head. “No wonder you’ve got a weight problem, eating this rubbish.”
Suddenly he toppled over. The fridge door had slammed into him.
Grace knew Breece was back. She couldn’t see him but could sense he was there.
“What the hell?” Sage glared at her, carefully crawling back onto his feet.
“Don’t look at me. I didn’t do anything.” She chewed on her lip and tried to stop the grin that twitched on her lips.
Stooping over, he snatched the door open once more, checked that it remained that way before peering back inside. “What have I told you? Don’t you ever listen, Grace?” He pulled out a carton of milk. “Full fat! Don’t you have any concern for your body?”
Grace closed her eyes as it tipped upwards, the contents soaking him. Shock registered on his face. Eyes wide, he dropped the empty box.
“I don’t understand. How did that happen?” He stared down at his clothes, dripping with milk, his chest and crotch soaked.
Graced dared a peek, and this time gave a little snort of laughter, which she quickly turned into a snort of sympathy. She shrugged her shoulders. “I guess you must be butterfingered.”
Sage frowned and glanced around, as if the answer might be there, hiding from him. “I’m going up to change, and when I come back I want to see that fridge as it should be. Without anything that’s fattening!” He ran up the stairs.
“He’s a wanker.” Breece’s voice breezed over her, once she was alone. “Why do you put up with him talking to you like that?”
He still hadn’t materialized, but she heard the outrage in his voice.
“He doesn’t mean anything by it; he’s just thinking of me.”
“Yeah, right!”
“He is. It’s true what he says, that they’re bad for me. That’s why I’m fat.” She ended the sentence on a dejected note.
At once Breece was beside her. “Baby, don’t get upset. You’re perfect.” He slipped his arms around her, his lips seeking hers. And she melted into him, she couldn’t stop herself. Her hands cupped his face and she kissed him softly in an innocent caress that trickled over him, sweet as honey.
Sage walked back in, buttoning his shirt and tucking it in with one hand. He glanced up to see Grace wriggling into thin air. “What the hell are you doing?”
Instantly she jumped back, snatching at Breece’s fingers that were still soldered to her waist. “Er, it’s a new type of exercise.”
“Grace, are you sure you’re all right?” The short shake of his head proved he didn’t believe her. “I’m so glad I’ve booked you in with the psychiatrist. I truly believe you’re heading for a nervous breakdown.”
“There’s nothing wrong with me.”
“Don’t argue. I know what I’m talking about. You don’t.” He turned. A placemat whizzed past him, hitting the door jam. Would have hit him if he hadn’t moved.
Breece cursed at having missed.
Sage spun round and stared at her, his green eyes sparking with disgust. “What the hell did you do that for?”
“I didn’t …” she began, then stumbled over her words, “er, I mean, its, that is ….” How could she explain it was a ghost? He’d have her sectioned. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to.”
“Grace, I think we’re going to have to sit down and have a little chat. Don’t you?”
Oh fuck. She knew how sanctimonious he could be. It wouldn’t be a “chat”—more like an interrogation. She’d endured many of these, all meant to be “for her own good.” She prayed that Breece would behave.
He held his hand up, his fingers splayed. “Five minutes in the lounge.” He spun around and strode away with stiff-legged strides.
“Now see what you’ve done!” She whispered the words, scared Sage would overhear her.
“Shame I missed. I’ll get the twat next time.”
“You will do no such thing! I’ll get the blame again.”
“Two minutes left,” Sage shouted from the lounge.
“Oh Christ, I’ve got to have that ‘chat’ because of you.” She shot a glare to where he began to appear. He was leaning against the work-top, grinning with smug satisfaction.
“Don’t say a word, not one.”
With a final backward glance of exasperation, she stomped into the lounge.
Chapter Thirteen
Sage stood in the centre of the room, his jaw set, his gaze condemning. He kept his arms folded tightly. “I said five minutes; it’s been six.”
“Oh for Pete’s sake.” She threw up her arms. “One minute late! What difference does it make?”
“That’s the problem with you, Grace, you don’t take into account other people’s feelings. You’re inconsiderate, aren’t you? Despite the fact I’d requested that you be here in five, you chose to ignore my wishes.” He pointed to the
coffee table. “Sit on that. I think it will take your weight.”
Breece pulled his arm back, his fingers curled into a fist. Grace grabbed him and snatched it down. Almost tripping forward, she muttered, “Will you stop it?”
“Grace, I don’t like the way you’re talking to me,” Sage ground out. “It’s disrespectful.” He arched a dark brow. “You haven’t been at the bottle again, have you, because I don’t know what you could have fallen over.”
“No I haven’t, and stop making me out to be a wino, will you?” She warily plonked her ass down and glared at Breece, who sat in the comfort of the chair opposite. He was still wearing that smug grin, and flashing her a wink, snuck a hand beneath his joggers.
Pulling his cock out, he casually began fisting himself. In slow and sensual movements, he slid his hand down the length and his tongue traced the contour of his lips. His chocolate gaze melted over her, never leaving her for a moment.
“Oh, dear God,” she groaned, already feeling a dampness sneak into the gusset of her knickers. She fought down an urge to rub her hand over her clit.
“What did you say?” Sage spoke from behind her. “Never mind, it was probably some inane remark.” Keeping his arms folded, he began to circle the table. “So, where do we start?”
Grace briefly closed her eyes to shut out the image of Breece’s cock.
“As the girlfriend of a prominent surgeon, you really need to take yourself in hand. You understand what I’m saying?”
“I’m taking myself in hand, Grace,” teased Breece. “Now listen to what the good doctor advises.”
Fucking hell. “No, what?”
He crossed in front of her, and stood looking down, interfering with her view. She shifted to the side, arching her neck to keep Breece in sight.
“Grace, will you listen to me? What the hell are you doing?” He glanced behind him. “And what are you striving to look at?”
Instantly contrite, she concentrated on Sage. “Nothing.”
“Grace, you have to start looking after yourself. I mean you’re not exactly model material. I’d gauge you need to lose at least two stone, maybe three to be on the safe side.”
