If this was what the foreplay felt like, I wasn’t sure I’d survive the sex itself. But I was eager to find out.
‘I’m not allowed to touch you?’ I gasped. He moved a bit faster and I wondered, if he kept doing that like that, whether I would come without him even touching me. I was almost certain I would.
Wind howled outside, sounding like some restless beast eager to gain entry to our shelter. Somehow the danger and the bizarre situation made me feel even safer in his arms. Even more cared for.
He was a bit of a mind-fuck, Dorian Martin.
‘You are. Just not yet.’ He dragged his lips along my skin and though I watched and knew it was just his lips, the sensation was as if he were using his tongue. When his mouth reached my navel, his tongue darted out and he nudged me there. It spurred a clenching need deep inside.
I didn’t argue. I was too transfixed. He released my wrists to pop the button on my new jeans. I lifted my hips, caught up in the moment and eager, to allow him to tug them down. Beneath I wore no panties. They had been wet and I hadn’t wanted to take yet another thing from the store.
He growled. It made the hair on the back of my neck stand up.
‘I don’t supposed anyone has ever told you how utterly spectacular you are?’ He looked up at me. His mouth mere inches from where I wanted him to be. I could feel the pulsing beat of my heart between my legs. My pussy clenched around nothing at all. The urge to be with him was relentless.
‘Actually …’ I pushed his dark hair out of his eyes. ‘No. No one has ever told me that before.’
‘So you’ve only dated blind men is what you’re telling me?’ He kissed the jut of my hipbone. His big hands held my hips and his body crushed my legs flat on the velveteen sofa.
‘No, just …’
He kissed the other hipbone and I secretly willed him to move his face to my mound. To part me and lick me and suck me until I did what I wanted more than anything in the world. Simply let go.
‘Just what?’ The heat of his breath washed over my mons. I arched up without thinking and realised what I was doing. Begging him with my body.
When he parted his lips and put his mouth on me, nudging me with his tongue, shooting a bolt of pure pleasure through me, I realised something else … I had no shame. I wanted him to know how much I wanted him. I wanted him to know what he did to me.
He only licked me for a minute. Tonguing my clit and then sucking it before driving his rigid tongue inside me. He continued to suck and lick and flick until I was grabbing great handfuls of ugly green velveteen and moving up to meet his mouth. I let my legs fall open and felt the pound of my heart in my temples, my pussy. I came with a loud cry just as a gust of wind howled and the lights failed. Darkness crushed in around us until they came back on with a sudden flare.
His fingers delved into me and his mouth returned. ‘I can’t – I’m too –’ I writhed under him, his big upper body pinning my legs and my hips as he put his mouth back on me, split me again with his tongue. I could hear the wet sounds of his ministrations and it was more of a turn-on than I expected. In the past that sound had embarrassed me but now – with him – it added to the sensation of him eating me.
‘I want you to come for me one more time. Just once more. You can do it. I’ll be gentle.’ Dorian pulled back to blow a soft breath across my skin. Goose bumps prickled along my arms and legs. Deep inside me a slow, lazy contraction started. I pushed my fingers into his hair and tugged gently, finding myself holding his head steady as I moved eagerly to meet his lips. He sucked hard on my clitoris and his fingers drove deep inside me again. He curled his fingers, played me like his own invented instrument. I was pretty sure he was magic. Some kind of sorcerer. He was pulling sensations out of me I’d never felt. It was like nothing I’d ever experienced. I was no virgin. I wasn’t even very shy in bed. But Dorian Martin inspired pleasure in me like I’d never known. An intoxicating rush of bliss that had my limbs heavy and my head light.
I came a second time with him lapping at me slowly. ‘You taste wonderful, Clover. Sweet and perfect. Just like your name. I like how you clutch at me when you come. But I’d like to hear you say my name.’
He moved up over me, the heat baking off him reminding me that it was cold and scary tonight. But I was here with him. So it all would be OK. I would be OK.
He shucked his trousers, his boxers. The socks went next. I watched it all in some kind of floating nirvana. When he returned to me, he studied me before moving over me. Despite his closeness, I had a sudden shattering moment of panic.
‘Is the door locked?’
‘No one else is here.’
‘Is it locked?’ I asked again, feeling the cold absence of sufficient air in my lungs.
He got up and moved to the door. It gave me enough time to study him in return. The hardness of his body, the lovely colour of his skin. His erection.
I bit my lower lip, waiting for the click of the thumb latch. When I heard it, air flooded my body and I could breathe again. ‘Thank you.’
‘One day you’ll have to explain,’ he said, surging up towards me from the bottom of the sofa like some predatory animal. It made me want to shriek in fear and laugh all at once. His presence and the way he handled himself cross-wired my natural instincts. I reached out to touch him. Brushing my fingertips over the ridges of his chest, down the flat of his belly. When I took him in hand we both froze. That moment stretched out like warm taffy.
‘I like the way you touch me.’ Again that half smile that brought to mind bad boys, rogues and pirates. It was perfect for Dorian Martin. It would have been an affectation on anyone else.
‘But it’s your natural state,’ I muttered without thinking about it.
‘Come again?’ He settled between my thighs and moved his hips side-to-side to truly seat himself at the centre of me. All that air I’d managed to locate fled again.
‘Sorry. Thinking aloud.’
‘Here’s the part where I ask you if you’re really truly sure,’ he said. He kissed my collarbone and then dragged his tongue over the place that he’d just kissed. When I moaned he licked one nipple before moving slowly, torturously, on to the next. I was panting by the time he was finished and I felt the resilient press of his cock to the wet split between my legs.
I didn’t speak. I did something that for me was totally out of control. I took it. I reached between us, allowing my fingers to skim his belly, his hipbone. I watched dark-green eyes grow darker with arousal. His eyes half closing with the sensation of my hand on him. It was intoxicating. Doing this. And God, how I had waited, without realising it in the least, to be intoxicated.
I guided him to me, arched my hips, took him in. Just the tip. Waiting. Watching his face to see what he’d do.
‘That’s a yes, then,’ he said, his voice barely audible.
Energy skittered over my skin. Water and electricity mingled. Volatile. That was what our moment felt like. Suspended in a swirling vortex of sheer kinetic energy.
‘Yes.’ I moved up just a hair more. I was testing his control. I knew it and he knew it. His jaw was set with determination and then in a blink he let out a rough sound. The kiss he delivered was equally rough, as if he was punishing me or maybe himself for this intense connection. I gasped and his tongue thrust against mine even as he drove his hips down and suddenly filled me. My body didn’t balk. It simply stretched and revelled at his penetration. I wrapped my legs around him, opening myself further, and we inhaled simultaneously. The silence in the moment that followed was deafening. Nothing pierced it but the tick of the clock, the howl of the wind and the sensual sounds of one body joined with another. And, for just a second, all that bled away too and I was there in utter silence watching him as he watched me. Gauging my reaction. Tracking my pleasure.
I moved up to take him even as his hands came down to pin my wrists by my hips. He crushed me with his body, with his kisses, with his desire. I sank into the overwhelming presence that was Dorian Martin and
when he nipped my ear, saying, ‘Clover, Clover, so sweet …’ I came.
I didn’t hold back or stifle myself. None of the things I always scolded myself for afterwards when sex was involved. I liked to be the wallflower. Not showing how good things felt even when they did.
Not this time, though. I tossed my head back and moved up to meet him, feeling each eager thrust to the fullest. I cried out and the words flew off my lips before I knew I’d formed them. ‘Dorian. Dorian … Oh …’
I wanted to laugh. It was so dirty-movie. It was so romance-novel. It was so … cliché. And yet in that primal moment it was all I had to offer and it was sincere.
‘That’s what I want to hear,’ he said, kissing me. Then his grip on my wrists tightened a little and his body moved to its own desperate rhythm and, just after a booming gust of wind that seemed to shake the building, he came.
* * *
He smiled down at me. He’d curled against the back of the big old-fashioned sofa and pulled me to him. His sweater was draped over me because I’d started to shiver. ‘So how did you get the name Clover?’
I sighed. ‘Really?’
‘Really. I’ll start. My name is Dorian. My grandfather’s name was Dorian and my great-grandfather’s middle name was Dorian. Very boring story: family name. Now Clover … that’s not your run-of-the-mill stuffy family name.’
‘Winnie the Pooh,’ I said.
‘Is that the stuff that sad donkey was always eating?’ he asked. When he kissed the side of my head good feelings bled through me. Filling me from chest to toe.
This was a rich man. A man with a specific lifestyle. This was not reality: we were suspended in some kind of fantasy world. A movie where the characters are trapped in a strange location. But I could enjoy the fantasy while it lasted, right?
I snorted. ‘No. That’s thistles. Thank God she didn’t name me Thistle. She found the word clover in there when she was reading to me in the womb. I’ve always felt like my name was a bit of a joke.’
He shook his head. ‘Really? I love it. It’s very old-fashioned. It’s very … pure.’
‘Like me. I’m as pure as the driven snow.’ I giggled. ‘Oh, wait, no, I’m not.’
He squeezed me and almost in tune our stomachs growled. ‘It’s very clever and pristine. That’s how I feel about your name. And you’re pretty wonderful. Who said girls as pure as the driven snow are any fun?’
His stomach growled again.
‘I think we need to feed you.’
‘I think we need dinner and a movie,’ he said.
I glanced up. ‘For real?’
‘For real. You go raid the concession stand. I’m going to fiddle with this stuff. See what we can see.’
‘Dinner and a movie,’ I said softly.
It was perfect. I got dressed and hurried out. I knew it was too perfect, but fuck … I was going to relish this while I could. One day it would all be just memories. But they’d be good memories. Stories to tell when I was old and grey. Stories to hold close on cold nights.
Chapter Ten
‘That was the worst movie ever,’ Dorian said with a laugh. He held my hand as we walked back towards the main entrance.
‘What? Action movies full of bad dialogue, bad sex scenes and bad acting aren’t your cup of tea?’
‘That movie was no one’s cup of tea,’ Dorian said. ‘That made chick flicks look appealing.’ Then he squeezed my hand. ‘Sorry.’
‘Sorry?’ I stopped at the door to a fancy store that carried things like all-white kitchen accessories, proper picnic baskets and stadium blankets that cost more than my car and were spun from pure wool harvested from the happiest, most organic lambs, which most likely received massages and regular therapy. I snorted and quickly covered my mouth. He was watching me. ‘You assume I watch chick flicks?’
‘What was that little snicker?’ he asked, as he pulled out his magical list and punched a number into the keypad. The door started to rise.
‘It was a snort. Let’s call it what it was. And I was just thinking of the blankets they sell here.’
He pulled me in after him and found the light switch. ‘Oh, let’s get one. If you know about them then you’ve admired them before.’
I caught myself blushing. ‘I admire all kinds of things. It doesn’t mean you should run about getting them for me.’
His gaze was fast and serious. ‘Why not?’
I cleared my throat, ignoring the way my heart thumped once, really hard, like a rabbit kicking inside my chest. ‘As for chick flicks, I don’t like them. I find them poofy and syrupy and very unrealistic.’
He moved through the store looking at stuff like he owned the place. Technically speaking, he kind of did. ‘“Poofy and syrupy”. What a wonderful description. But who’s to say that the knight in shining armour couldn’t come along? The man of a girl’s dreams? The perfect key for her lock –’
‘Is that a sex joke?’
It was Dorian’s turn to snort. ‘No. As I was saying, the man who …’ He shrugged and held up two stadium blankets. ‘Blue or red?’
‘Blue,’ I said. ‘The man who what?’
His amused look vanished and he watched me intently. I prayed for him to speak or laugh or kiss me – hell, even to sneeze – because that moment felt weighted. Important. Serious.
‘The man who resonates with the heroine. Do you think that’s possible, Clover?’
I nodded once and tried to swallow around the giant lump that had somehow grown in my throat. ‘I do.’
‘Good.’ He handed me the blanket and gathered a picnic basket. ‘I say we go have a picnic by the main entrance. See what’s up with the weather. And then how would you feel about a shower?’
‘A shower?’
He winked at me. Usually when men wink at me I grit my teeth. I find it condescending and annoying. When Dorian winked at me I felt like we were sharing a secret joke. He winked at me to be inclusive, not dismissive.
Big difference, I realised.
‘Ed, the general manager? He has a nice office with a nice shower and a nice desk and a nice but narrow sofa.’
‘Oh, I could sleep on the fl–’
‘Do not even finish that sentence,’ he whispered.
I stopped.
‘I think we should bunk down in that very luxurious bed at Classic Time. It’ll be like sleeping for exhibitionists. We can pretend we’re on display. Maybe imagine what it’d be like if I pinned you down,’ he said, stepping close so that barely an inch separated us, ‘and had my way with you while people hurried past. Shopping, barking into cellphones, fretting and stressed and all so frenzied, while I fucked you. Right there. In that gorgeous bed in front of all the mad, mad world.’
My mouth was dry and a small puff of air escaped me. ‘I … I …’
‘Food,’ he said, pulling me along. ‘Food and shower and then we’ll figure out if that bed is as perfect as it looks or if it’s just a prop.’
I hurried after him, my feet floating above the ground. Not really, but that was the feeling. That the strong current of Dorian Martin and his magical life were carrying me along like a small newspaper boat on a rushing stream of storm water.
The lights dimmed for a heartbeat before flaring bright. ‘We need to cook before we lose power. I bet we do,’ he said. ‘Lose power, I mean. But don’t worry, I’ve got you, Clover.’
I knew he meant it.
* * *
The food was a distant memory. Some heat-up lasagne and veg and some more wine, of course. A quick phone call to my grandmother that didn’t go through. The emergency message informed me the lines were overwhelmed and told me to try my call again later. Anxiety slammed me and Dorian took my hand and led me off to Ed’s office. An office I’d never been in.
‘Everyone is fine. They’re together. They’re in an apartment complex. It will be fine.’ His hands on me soothed as much as his words. He pulled my sweater off again and then his fingers worked the button of my jeans. I caught his eye
and gave him a smile. We froze, his fingers not pushing the button through the buttonhole just yet. He kissed me. His broad chest crushing my bare breasts. ‘I’m not sure I want this storm to end,’ he said.
‘Really? You have such a life,’ I said. ‘Such a life to get back to.’
He kissed me again, then licked a hot line along my lower lip before kissing along my jaw and nibbling my ear. A shiver skittered across my skin and I laughed.
‘But time standing still because I’m trapped with beautiful Clover isn’t part of that life. Being something I’m not is pretty much the bulk of that life.’
I realised that rich didn’t mean perfect. Or even happy. I didn’t know what to say. So I stroked his hip and then his waistband and then finally the place above his zipper. He was hard and I was grateful. Getting lost in him was just what I wanted. It would tamp down my worry and lift up my heart.
That was the last thought before he finally popped my button and pushed my jeans down. I tried to help him get undressed but realised my hands were shaking so I stopped and simply watched him unveil that body. One of the most beautiful bodies I’d ever seen.
Dorian pulled me against him, wrapped his arms around me and looked down at me. Before the moment fled, he grinned, picked me up and walked me towards the shower. I coiled my legs around his waist, effectively pressing my wetness to him.
‘We should have hot water. Please God, let there be hot water.’
There was hot water. He walked me back and into the spray. We both groaned in pleasure and then laughed at the combined sound.
‘There isn’t anything quite as good as hot water, is there?’ I licked water off his chest. It was simply an excuse to lick him. To taste his skin and be close to him.
‘Nothing better?’ The light in his eyes was wicked as he pressed me against cool tile. His cock slid between the V of my thighs and nudged my clit. He watched me, rocked back and forth so there was friction. Breathtaking friction. ‘Nothing at all?’ he asked again.
I blew out a long slow breath and said. ‘OK, so that might be a little better than hot water.’
Lost in You Page 6
