He gave a soft groan and stared up at the ceiling. Who was he trying to kid? He’d run away last time because he instinctively knew she was the type of girl who might just make him lose control, and now it was happening and he couldn’t back off. He needed to get out now, drop the whole thing, unless he wanted to turn into as big a dick as the last man who’d let her down, making her feel like she wasn’t good enough. But if she had one whiff that he didn’t want her then the doors he’d opened might be slammed shut for ever. And he couldn’t do that to her.
How did you make a girl understand she was more than good enough, but you couldn’t match up to what she needed? As she stirred, he instinctively tightened his grip. And he didn’t know who unnerved him most, her or him.
Cat liked the feel of her shaved pussy; she liked the way the skin felt under her fingers as she showered, liked the feel of her knickers rubbing against her. It made her feel liberated in a strange way. Each step she took was pure, unadulterated pleasure. A reminder she was a woman. A reminder of how it had felt when his body had been pressed hard against her.
He watched her walk into the kitchen with hooded eyes, eyes that told her he knew exactly what was going through her mind.
‘Hey, sexy, I’d ask if you slept well, but considering the way I spent most of the night pinned down by a dead weight I’d say you did.’ He grinned, showing white teeth, even whiter against the dark stubble of his chin. She ran a hand over the roughness and plonked herself down opposite him.
‘Dead weight, huh? I’ve been called some things but that’s a new one. So does the dead weight get a caffeine top-up?’
He laughed, his lazy stride eating up the ground as he crossed to pour a coffee.
‘And talking of being pinned down …’
‘We were?’
‘We were. You started it, bud, and I’m going to finish it.’
He raised an eyebrow and pushed the mug her way. ‘Fighting words for a half pint.’ She mock-punched him and he caught her hand effortlessly. ‘Flyweight.’ Kissed her knuckles, letting go reluctantly as she pulled free.
‘When do I get a go?’
‘Ah, you want a go now, do you? These are my fantasies, my forfeit, sweetheart.’ He was grinning more broadly and she knew she had him by the way he shifted slightly in his seat.
‘And you never fantasise about being pinned down?’ She leant forward a bit, giving him a teasing glimpse of cleavage. ‘About a woman having her wicked ’ she ran her tongue over her lips ‘ way with you?’
Being tied up last night had turned her on; taken her to a new level of anticipation and a new level of multiple orgasms, if she was honest. If he knew how to do that to her he knew how good it could be, and she wanted it to be that good for him too. Being controlled had given her a new sense of power, something she wouldn’t have believed if she’d been told.
‘Maybe I just like being the one who’s in charge?’ His voice had a husky edge that lent a lie to the words.
‘I’d say the way you threw me on top you like being ridden, Brent Mulholland.’
He threw his head back and laughed then, full and deep; a sound that reverberated right through her. ‘You are such a rude girl.’ He stroked a gentle finger down her nose, prodding the end. ‘And rude girls get their turn ’ he picked up the mug and paused ‘ eventually.’
‘You’re a bossy sod. Stop laughing at me.’ Brent in relaxed mode was a million miles from Brent in stalking mode. He was still downright sexy, giving off signals that were sending her senses into overdrive every time he got close. But he wasn’t the man who had watched her every move through the past year of marriage. She’d often looked up, or turned, to catch his brooding stare; his face fixed in a way that made her feel trapped, as though at any minute he might pounce. Except now he had, she supposed. Pounced, sated, sleepy. Wasn’t that how it went? He’d never once relaxed and shown her who he was, but nor had she. Two human beings skating round each other’s desires and wants, denying themselves what they really needed. But he’d pounced now and once he’d had his fill, once he’d slept it off, what then?
‘You ever going to let me in that head of yours?’
She looked up, met his gaze. Knew he knew. Made light of it. ‘Dangerous place, even for me.’ Once he slept it off he’d move on, she’d move on, and lie in bed each night remembering how good it had been.
‘You ready to make a move yet or do you need more coffee?’ Cat and coffee had a special relationship. Caffeine kick-started her, and without it she was a major pain.
‘Move? Where are we off to?’
‘The seaside.’ He grinned, no doubt at the expression on her face.
‘Ah, well that explains those silly shorts then.’
‘Silly! Look, wench, these are my best surfer dude shorts so don’t you mock them, they send the girls wild.’
She wasn’t so sure about the shorts sending anyone wild, but the surfer dude body maybe. As in definitely.
‘Girls being the operative word; ones still in pigtails, I take it?’
‘You’re getting too cheeky for your own good.’
‘Oooh.’ She raised an eyebrow in mock delight and watched his face darken.
‘You better stop that or we won’t be going anywhere, and I’ll make your pussy so sore you won’t be able to walk for a week.’
‘Promises, promises.’ She laughed as he lunged toward her, easily dodging his hand.
‘Get your shorts on, woman, before I come and give you a hand.’
She paused in the doorway, leaning back to blow a kiss. ‘Sooo masterful.’
‘And don’t you forget it, darling.’
She pulled on shorts and a skimpy T-shirt, rummaging for flip flops in the wardrobe. Thoughts of the seaside took her back to when she was a kid; family outings, ice creams and fun. All the usual childhood stuff. She’d always stuffed her pockets with shells, then ended up filling the car with sand and getting shouted at by her dad. Until it changed, he changed. She bit the inside of her cheek. Until he had better things to worry about than sand and was happy whatever she did as long as she did it quietly. As long as he could still have some fun of his own.
She pinned her hair back and put lip gloss on slowly, giving herself time. That had been then and about him. This was now and about her. Brent seemed to have an instinct for finding the doors she’d slammed shut and prising them open. But he probably didn’t even know he was doing it this time
Chapter Six
Brent ran an approving eye over Cat’s slim, pert body. He loved the way she managed to have those curves but still keep a toned, flat stomach. That gentle curve into her waist was just made for a man-sized hand; his to be precise. Her pert buttocks and rounded boobs just called out to him to hold them too. Jesus, a man could be torn in so many pleasurable ways.
‘What are you thinking about?’ She’d raised an eyebrow, her hands on her hips. Defiantly sexy.
‘All the bits of your body I like to have my hands on.’ He growled. ‘Get in the car quick before I start showing you.’
Her easy laugh sent a spark straight into his underpants. It was a good job she’d not been this happy over the last 12 months or he would have had a difficult choice: break his promise and throw her on the bed, or move out. ‘I’ll settle for this part right now ’ he rested his hand on her bare knee ‘ and move on to the other bits later.’ Whoever had persuaded women to live in jeans and leggings should be shot; legs like this needed admiring, touching, holding.
‘Are you still doing it?’ Her eyes were fixed pointedly on his crotch. Jeez, his shorts were tenting and he hadn’t got down the driveway.
‘I certainly am.’ He flashed her a smile and started the engine; his own was already revving rather too nicely. ‘Just wondering how tight these shorts are.’ His hand drifted up the inside of her thigh, his fingers stretching under the fabric. She slapped him. Though he’d say it was a pretty half-hearted slap. ‘Knickers?’
‘Yup, big mumsy up to my chin ones.’<
br />
‘Sturdy cotton?’
‘Well-starched.’
‘You’re such a turn-on.’
She arched an eyebrow. ‘Well, you were until you made me think of you shagging a woman in starchy big knickers.’ She stuck her tongue out at him.
‘Don’t.’
She shut her mouth firmly, but couldn’t help the smile that dragged at the corners. Then stuck it out again, giving a defiant wiggle of the tip.
He groaned. ‘You just can’t resist, can you?’ Good job he hadn’t gone commando like he normally did in these shorts or his cock would be out and looking for action. ‘Now fasten your seatbelt and just imagine we’ve been married 30 years and are going on a day trip. That should help you behave.’
‘Thirty years? So I wouldn’t be giving you a blowjob on the way, then?’
Shit, he was fast losing control of this. He slipped the handbrake and set the car moving. ‘You might on the way back after your chips and glass of sherry had warmed you up, and I might even be tasting your muff.’
‘Ergh, don’t use that word.’
‘Sorry I forgot there for a minute that you were all sweet and innocent. Delicate ears.’
‘Positively virginal. Almost.’ She settled back in her seat, lifting her face to the breeze as they picked up speed.
Brent groaned inwardly at her obvious pleasure. He’d always loved the convertible for the way it helped him relax when he drove out on a nice sunny day, and today it might help him cool down. Or at least stop him getting any hotter.
Cat ran her tongue round the bottom of the ice-cream, catching the drips and laughing as Brent just bit into his. ‘Doesn’t it hurt your teeth? The ice-cream when you do that?’
‘Nope.’ He took another bite. ‘I’m not a girly like you.’ He ran a finger up the inside of her forearm.
‘And don’t I know it.’ She grinned and circled her tongue slowly round the tip of the cone, and he felt his whole body tense in response.
‘Well, if you don’t already then you will soon.’ He grabbed her free hand and hauled her up onto her feet decisively. ‘We’re going up there ’ he pointed to a crag above the beach ‘ for a picnic.’
‘A picnic?’ She tipped her head to one side, a soft smile of innocence. ‘Pork pies or salmon sandwiches?’
‘Sausage if you’re not careful.’ He tried to keep a straight face.
‘On sticks or in rolls?’
‘Encased in something far better than pastry. Now ’ he set off determinedly towards the car ‘ move that sexy little arse before I get the urge to slap it.’
Cat followed him across the hilltop as he marched ahead with the picnic basket. She dangled her flip-flops in her hand, enjoying the feel of the soft, moist grass caressing the soles of her feet. The sun had reached its highest point and the soft early summer glow was soothing against her back. She squeezed the blades between her toes as he laid the blanket down, pulling her hair loose from its ponytail before sinking down with a sigh next to him.
‘Happy?’
She smiled as she took the glass of wine, their fingers brushing just enough to send a slight shiver through her. ‘Yeah, I am, actually.’
The distant cries of children and barking dogs on the beach filtered up, providing a gentle background lull rather than intruding. She leant back, stretched her legs out in front of her, wanting to soak up as much of the soothing balm of the sun’s rays as she could.
The picnic basket was full of posh goodies: bite-sized nibbles of olives, tiny ripe tomatoes, cheese, and other enticing mouthfuls. ‘Not a pork pie in sight, then?’
His rich laugh crept under her defences as he brushed a crumb from her lip and popped a cherry tomato in her mouth, the sweet ripeness bursting against her taste buds.
‘Not a pork pie in sight, no.’ His voice was a soft murmur before his lips met hers, tempting, teasing until the taste of maleness mingled with the sweet and savoury flavours in her mouth. It was a brief but deep caress of longing, of need, before he drew back, brushing down the side of her face with the back of his hand, a gesture filled with unspoken promise.
He’d stripped off his T-shirt and now he rolled it up into a makeshift pillow and pushed her gently back. ‘Here, relax.’
‘I can’t eat if I relax.’
‘You can eat later.’ His hand drifted up under her skimpy T-shirt. Her skin was already warm from the sun but his touch seared a path far hotter along her body. A gentle finger slowly circled her nipple and all the time he looked straight into her eyes; all the time there was just him, just her, no room for anyone else, anything else. He pushed her top up and his gaze dropped to her pale, full breasts, unencumbered by a bra, his gaze intent as, with each circle of his finger, the peak of her nipple responded, hardened.
‘But ’
‘Shh, no buts.’ His mouth gently covered hers, stilling her objections, his tongue slowly exploring until she acquiesced and relaxed beneath him. He tasted of arousal, of barely concealed passion and he drew her along into the kiss with him, coaxing, playing until her mouth opened wider and her tongue responded to his. It was just a kiss. No more. His hand was still, flat against her warm stomach, and she could feel herself slowly melt into him until they seemed at one. One purpose, one need.
Need slowly invaded her body, crept from her damp mouth down to her breast that still tingled from his touch, down lower until the tremors that started in her stomach were fluttering between her thighs, the warmth flowering as though her whole body was opening to him as she drowned in his kiss.
His fingers were gently stroking the flesh at the top of her shorts, running along the inside, and she rolled her hips in response, a gasp caught in her throat. Still his mouth never left hers as she tangled her fingers in his hair, felt him undo the button; slip his hand to cradle her mound. A soft moan left her as the heat of his hand met her naked skin, as firm fingers started to press against lips that had already swollen and opened. He lifted his head, broke the spell, and the harsh grate of a seagull’s call broke into her subconscious.
Her eyes shot open and for a moment she stared unseeing at him. ‘No.’ Nice girls didn’t do this; only sluts did, in secret. She tried to pull away, but he was too quick for her, his hand already on her waist, holding her steady and for a second she saw confusion cloud his eyes.
‘Cat, trust me. You trust me, don’t you?’ His voice was soft but urgent, drawing her back to him, his hand softly massaging her waist, a gentle thumb circling on her stomach. She dropped her eyes to his chest, not wanting to meet his gaze, not wanting to challenge him, but this was wrong. ‘Cat?’ His voice drew her back, mesmerised her; she had no choice and when she met his gaze she saw only confidence and openness. ‘It’ll be fine, Cat, everything’s fine.’ His soothing voice cradled her.
She put a hand on his chest. ‘It’s wrong.’ The small words were a whisper, hardly there.
‘It’s not wrong if you want it, Cat.’ And he must have felt her soften because his hand had drifted back between her legs and he was stroking, caressing, and suddenly she could hardly hear the birds circling above and it didn’t matter that she was half-naked on a hilltop. It didn’t matter that he had eased her shorts off, had exposed the newly unveiled skin of her mound to the sky above. He kicked his own shorts off, never missing a beat as his fingers circled her nub until it was swollen and hard. The soft grass stroked the soles of her feet as she slid her heels closer to her bum, dropping her knees wider to let his fingers in deeper. The two fingers curled and teased and then he was easing three in, stroking her G-spot, playing a tune inside her with one hand as he propped himself up so that he could watch the pleasure race over her face. She reached a hand down to cover his, pushing him deeper, holding him fast inside. His thumb pressed hard against her clit as still his fingers searched out her G-spot, stroking, prodding until she could feel her muscles start to tighten, could feel the throbbing start just there, in that one spot, spiralling outward and back, outward and back, stronger with each touc
h of his fingers. And then she gasped as she felt herself coming, pulsing, flooding in strong, rhythmic burst after burst. Her eyes flew wide and her mouth opened in an “ooh” as the new sensation racked through her, not a rolling orgasm that pervaded her body but one spot that was exploding like a dam burst. She rocked her hips, feeling the dampness pool between her legs, hugging his hand with strong thighs, milking each last moment as the throbbing slowly ebbed.
Their eyes met as he eased his hand away and the look Cat saw shocked her; an openness, an awareness that cut to her core. ‘You are so fucking amazing.’ Then he was pushing into her and she cried out as her pussy responded with a new wave of ripples. Self-control wracked his face as he fought the need to explode immediately. She wrapped her legs round his waist, tipping her hips up to grind against his pelvis with a silent plea, squeezing her pussy in time to his thrusts. ‘Shit.’ He ducked down then, kissing her neck, sucking the soft flesh at the base and the sweet sensation sent spears right down to her core as she arched upwards, pushing harder as he sucked deeper. She could feel him grow, feel his balls tighten against her, and she let go, let him take her with him as he came, shooting hot come deep inside her.
She felt the wet dampness on her face before she realised it was tears. Silent tears falling softly down her cheeks. He had rolled beside her so that her head was cradled on his chest and he lifted his head as he felt the dampness. She licked, tasting the salt.
‘You OK?’
‘Fine.’ The tears came faster and she hugged him closer, not wanting him to look, to know.
‘Tell me, darling.’
She shook her head almost imperceptibly. ‘I can’t.’
He pulled himself up to a sitting position and dragged her over onto his lap. ‘You can and you will, sweetheart, however long it takes.’
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