I think she might understand, because she’s offering up her credit card to the waitress, and I’m not of a right mind because I let her pay, but that might be because her foot is in my lap now, and the massage she’s giving me under the table is far more complicated than five toes should be able to achieve.
I might groan, I don’t know. I know a shudder races through me when she strokes her foot down my cock. And watching her, it’s like a risqué fantasy, her nipples pebbling beneath her silky dress, a fine sheen of sweat glossing her perfect skin, her bottom lip trapped between her teeth as her eyelids lower in pure lust.
This woman is unbelievable. And I’m not going to question a thing about how she turned up in my life or why she might be interested in me, of all people. Or what her brother would say if he could read my mind and see what I have planned for her this evening.
The bill’s paid and we’re out the door, hailing a taxi, because I’m fucked if we’re walking the ten minutes it would take to get back to my car at Sweet Seduction.
And then there’s the whole fact that I can’t drive and have her straddle my lap at the same time. Her hot little pussy presses up against my hotter cock and she rocks in a subtle movement that the taxi driver may or may not be able to determine. But who am I kidding? Because she’s sitting on my lap, kissing the ever loving crap out of me, and he can watch the whole thing in his rear view mirror if he so likes.
Momoko bites my lip, making me groan out loud, my fingers reaching up and cupping the back of her head, and then threading through the strands of her long hair and tugging tight. She moans. I can feel her heat. Right on top of me. Right where I want to bury myself. Lose myself. Sink myself inside.
She tries to tip back her head, but I don’t let her, delving my tongue in between her lips and tasting sweet heaven. Her fingers unbutton my shirt, smoothly, sleekly. Not a fumble to be had. And then her hot hand is against my hotter skin, and moving lower.
My belt buckle comes undone, and it’s only now I’m realising we’re in a taxi being driven down the southern motorway. Big trucks and tall SUVs pass us on either side. I’m sure they’re enjoying the peep show.
But Momoko is determined and I’m losing my mind and her hand finally reaches its goal and wraps around me.
My head flops back against the headrest of the car and I let her have her moment. Who am I to disappoint the woman? She knows what she wants and I’m not going to deny her.
She squeezes me just tight enough to make me sweat, and then she strokes her palm up the length of me, runs a thumb across the head, and smears the drop of moisture that has beaded there all over my dick.
She licks her lips. I hold her gaze, heavy lidded and totally into this girl, and then she shifts back, shuffling her pert little butt toward my knees, her eyes flicking down to rest on her prize.
I’m instantly harder when I see her lips part in surprise and appreciation. Yeah, I’m a chump. Sue me.
And then the car rolls to a stop outside a small house in Greenlane. We’re both panting.
I throw cash at the driver, who mumbles something about getting a room, and I’m right on that, as I drag Momoko out of the car and up the small pathway to her door.
At least, I hope it’s her door and not Koki’s, because I’m not sure I could stop right now even if Tanaka turned up and tried to chop off my head. Or something lower.
But Momoko’s got the keys out and the door swings open, and then she’s spinning on her feet, reaching up to wrap her hands around my neck, and hauling me across the threshold. A small light is on in the lounge room, which opens up off to the side of the hallway. It’s an older house, but she must have retrofitted it with central heating, because I don’t shiver when she tears my shirt off, having already made quick work of my suit jacket.
I’m on fire.
We’re still in the hallway, but the soft light from the lamp in the lounge filters through to make a glow that surrounds her as she moves to her knees and unties my shoe laces. I’m having ridiculous thoughts of this woman being an angel. And yeah, sure, it’s been a while, but come on! An angel? And then her lips wrap around my cock and I’m gone.
I’ll ditch my religion. I’ll renounce my mother’s faith. I’ll worship at Momoko’s altar. As long as she keeps sucking and licking and nibbling the fuck out of me.
I almost come. But I am not entirely that selfish.
“Momo,” I murmur, her name a husky prayer on my lips. Big, beautiful brown eyes stare up at me as her lips spread wide around my cock. “As much as I love you right where you are, I want more.”
She pulls back, licks her lips, and raises a single eyebrow. I’ve never been able to master that feat, but I’m already aware Momoko Tanaka is well out of my league.
That’s why I don’t falter. This might be my only chance. I reach down and help her to her feet, slipping the strap of her dress off her shoulder and following its movement with my lips. She shivers beneath my touch, her hands already wrapped up in my short hair. I wonder what she thinks of our colour differences. She’s so tanned, has such glorious, shining, black hair, and I’m blond and several shades lighter.
Our bodies entwined will look fantastic.
Her dress pools at her feet and she’s not wearing underwear. Anywhere. She’s completely bare and I’ve died and gone to heaven. But she is wearing high heels, and for the first time tonight I realise she kicked butt, not only in a long, silky, figure hugging dress, but also in four inch spiked heels.
This woman amazes me.
“Keep the shoes on,” I say, pushing my trousers down off my legs, following that up with my socks. I stand before her utterly naked too and let her take her fill of me. Her eyes, as they follow the contour of my body, feel like fingers stroking over my skin. I’m not muscular like Koki is. I’m not even as well defined as Dom. But I’m a long distance runner, so my body is sleek, athletic, like a panther.
The muscle definition is there, but it’s not showy. I guess that’s me. I’m not a showy person. I’m quite happy to immerse myself in contractual law and leave the court trials up to the show-ponies.
We stare at each other for a suspended moment and then she’s leaping through the space between us, and I’m reaching out to catch her as if it’s the most natural thing, and when we connect, I swear sparks fly, and my hand is fisted in her hair, and her breasts are pressed against my chest, and her lips are smashed against mine.
And I lose it. I lose all control and reason. Me. Finn Drake. The most controlled person around. I keep everything deep down inside, but when I lift her up by my hands on her butt cheeks, and I spin her back against the wall, making picture frames rattle along its length, and I sink into her hot welcoming sheath, I let out a roar.
And Momoko screams, clenching me tightly, already rocking up on my cock and begging for more. I stagger slightly. I’m not proud of it. But my knees go weak for a second and then I’m thrusting and the door beside us is banging as the wall behind Momo shakes with each hard pound into her pussy.
I’m too turned on to care. I need more. I need everything she has to offer. And for once I’m taking what I need.
“Momo,” I moan as her body clenches around my cock and squeezes tightly. “Fuck, baby, you feel good.”
My fingers find her nipple and I tweak it, eliciting a cry from deep inside and a more fervent rock on top of my cock. I think I could almost just stand here and let her fuck me; she’d be more than capable. But we’re both holding our own and when my thumb rubs over her clit she lets go.
It’s mesmerising. But everything about this woman is. She bites her lower lip when she comes. Her eyes close, her head tilts back, her cry of release becomes a soft mewl.
I think I’m in love. I’m certainly in love with her body.
And on that thought, I move us, still rocking into her tight pussy, still fucking her as hard as she’s fucking me, and then I’m lowering her to a couch, and I’m lifting her legs up in front of me, almost bending her in half, and the
n I really start to let go.
“Yes,” she moans, then follows it up with a series of words in Japanese. I love that I’ve got her so wild she doesn’t even realise she’s speaking another language to me.
“You like that?” I manage to say between grunts.
She nods her head.
“You going to come again?” I demand.
“Please.”
That’s my girl. Begging. What is it with men and making their lovers beg for more?
I pull out. She mewls in complaint. And then I flip her over, her breasts hard against the soft leather of the sofa, her hair fanning out over the cream material looking ethereal.
We’re Neanderthals, that’s what it is. I lift her arse up, press her thighs apart, and then spread her cheeks with my thumbs before I begin to eat her.
She bucks beneath my lips and tongue and teeth. Her body twisting around, trying to get more, trying to pull away, I’ve got her so damn confused.
And then I slip two fingers inside her pussy, find her G-spot and stroke as I suck her clit deeply.
“Finn!” she screams as she comes and I’m feeling about ten feet tall about now. I let her have one orgasm and then I make her have another and another. She’s almost crying with her need to have me inside her.
I don’t want tears. I want… I’m not sure. I’m a little bit wild with this woman.
I pull up, wipe my mouth off on the back of my hand, and then position my cock at her entrance. It’s only then I realise I’ve forgotten the condom and my trousers are back in the hallway and her pussy is weeping, ready for me to sink my cock inside.
“Do it,” she says. “Fuck me.”
My eyes connect with hers, as she looks over her shoulder, and for a split second I wonder who is using whom. Momoko looks desperate for distraction. Desperate for something she thinks I can give her. Desperate, I’m quite sure, to escape.
I’m a chump. Because for a moment I contemplate just fucking her senseless. I’ve already fucked her well and truly as it is. But for a second I consider taking everything she has to offer. Taking and taking and taking some more.
But that’s not me. And I might not know who Momoko is inside, but the woman I’ve seen on the outside so far tonight deserves far more respect than that.
I run a hand down her spine, let her know I’m very much into this, and whisper, “Hang tight.”
Then I’m up and off the couch, out of the lounge and in the hallway, searching frantically through my pockets for a condom. It’s been a while. They might be out of date. But I try to change them regularly, I just can’t think of the last time I did it. And I’ll fucking lose my shit if they’re out of date. Because there’s only so long a guy can remain a gentleman with a woman like that waiting on the couch to be satisfied.
I find one. It’s in date. My heart won’t stop racing. So’s the next two. I grab them all in my fist, streak back into the lounge, dreading the break has doused her ardour. Only to find her in exactly the same position, a soft smile on her lips as she watches over her shoulder.
“A bit late for that, don’t you think?”
“Never too late,” I say, slipping the condom on and enjoying the way she watches my every move.
“I’m on the pill,” she offers. “And clean,” she adds. I hesitate.
Then finish rolling on the condom.
“So am I,” I reply, and then sink myself back inside.
She lets out a shock of air, and as I have to stop moving for a moment, has the time to recover and say, “On the pill, too?”
“What?” I demand, still not moving. Moving would be bad. I’m this close to blowing my load, and wouldn’t that be embarrassing?
“You said you were too,” Momo explains, shifting slightly to torment me.
“I did?” I manage.
She laughs. Minx.
I grip her hips and start to thrust. I take us both to heaven. And then do it two more times before I let her fall to sleep. I wish I’d kept a condom aside, to wake her up with. But I’ll take what I can get from this extraordinary woman.
For as long as she lets me.
Which, I’m thinking, might just be tonight.
Because when I was out in the hallway, searching my pockets for condoms, I found the note Mr Fujiwara handed Momoko in the sake restaurant. It was just there, beside her dress, so I couldn’t avoid it.
Honour your father, Momoko-san. Don’t be seen with other men out in public.
I wouldn’t be acceptable to her family - hell, I know I’m not acceptable to her brother - and I’m an absolute fucking chump. Because I still came back in the room, slipped the condom on, and took whatever she gave me.
Three times in as many hours.
Chapter 4
Close Call
Dominic
I lean back in my office chair and stretch out my body. It’s thrumming. Which is no surprise, really. Genevieve always makes my body thrum.
“Sweetheart,” I say down the line, it might have been a purr, but I’ll deny it. “You know I love it when you get angry. But there’s nothing to be done about it.”
“It’s just,” she starts, and I settle in for the long haul. Genevieve, when she gets going, can talk for an hour. And I get the impression my lovely wife is about to get going. “I thought they’d want to have it here. At Sweet Seduction. We do everything at Sweet Seduction. It’s what it’s here for. All of us. You know that. They know that. Why are they being so difficult about this?”
“It is their baby shower, sweetheart,” I say softly. Carefully. Along with a propensity to talk non-stop, Genevieve can be quite emotional. Especially right now. “There will be others.”
“I know there’ll be others, Dom. But this is their first. And they’ve tried so hard to get pregnant. I just want to make it special for them. And Sweet Seduction is the epitome of special. Why wouldn’t they want to have it here?”
“Maybe because they want to keep it small. They are very private people.”
“You mean they hide in the shadows all day and very rarely come out to play? I call bullshit on that.” She’s getting riled. It’s not good if she gets riled. Not that kind of riled anyway.
“Genevieve,” I say, and I put a little force behind her name. Just a little. Not too much. But I know exactly how hard I can push her. How hard she needs me to push her.
She responds immediately.
“Yes?”
My cock goes rock hard.
“It’s Ben and Abi,” I say. “You love them.”
“I do.” She loves everyone. That’s why she feels everything so keenly.
“Make it special for them,” I say.
“But that’s why I want them to have it here,” she argues.
I shake my head, even though she can’t see it. “Sweetheart. They don’t have to have it at Sweet Seduction to make it special. They can have it at a McDonalds and it would be special.” She scoffs. “As long as we’re there to celebrate with them. As long as you’re there to help Abi. Sweet Seduction is our home, our haven. But it’s not just a building.”
“It’s not?”
“No,” I whisper. “It’s the smiling face that greets them when they walk in the door. The effervescent atmosphere when you banter with Kelly or Lucas. It’s your eyes that light up when they walk inside. It’s the music. The people. The conversations. And, dare I say it, the chocolate and coffee. None of which are glued to that building’s floor. If Ben and Abi want to celebrate this wonderful milestone in their lives at their own home, then take Sweet Seduction to them.”
“Oh,” she says. And then she starts crying. I grimace. Waiting to see if this is a geyser moment or a small fountain. “That’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever heard,” she says through happy tears.
I smile.
“Feel better?” I murmur.
“Yes.”
“I love you,” I add.
“I love you too.”
“Now,” I say. “Are you alone in your office?”
“Ah, yes.”
“The door’s closed?”
“Dominic!” she exclaims.
“I can’t get away to see you, right now, sweetheart. Work is killing me. But I do have a few moments to make sure my very sexy wife is more than just happy.”
“You do? And what did you have in mind, Mr Anscombe?”
“Well, Mrs Anscombe,” I say, and my voice has lowered several octaves. “I thought I might tell you just what I intend to do to you tonight.”
“The kids…” she starts.
“Will be in bed by nine. By nine-thirty I’ll have a bath run for you. I’ll guide you into our ensuite and strip you down slowly. Marvelling at how wonderful your body is. How beautiful you look when you stand before me.”
“Even now?” she asks archly.
“Especially now,” I say forcefully. “I’ll kneel down before you and kiss your belly, because I have to say hello before we go on. But I won’t linger. I can’t. You’re far more important than Squeak.”
“Squeak? Are we calling it Squeak now?”
“Or Smudge, you pick.”
“I think I’ll go with Squeak.”
“So, Squeak’s happy, but his or her mother needs to be happy too. And that’s where I come in.”
“I bet you do,” she says drily.
I try not to laugh, it ends up being a cough. Through my smile, I say, “I’ll run my hands all over your body, paying special attention to your lower back, the curve of your arse, the crease between your thighs.”
“Dominic,” she says in warning, and I know I’ve almost got her.
“Do you know what I love most about your arse?” I ask, but don’t pause long enough for her to answer. “It fits the palm of my hands perfectly. Much like your breasts. I’ll squeeze your cheeks, maybe pat them a little, smooth the sting out with a soft brush of my hands, while pressing you up against my chest, making your nipples throb with the contact.”
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