"So what? In case you've forgotten, this part was supposed to come before the tea and muffins. You said you were desperate."
"I am. But anticipation is good," he says, giving me a sexy leer. "It gives desperation an edge. Rather like imagining yourself dying of thirst. You see this tiny drop of condensation about to fall, and if you can just get your head angled in the right position. But, of course, that's impossible. You're bound hand and foot, and you can't move so much as a single muscle."
"Sounds pretty kinky to me. You in to that kind of stuff?"
"You mean whips, chains, restraints and all that? Not really. What about you?"
"I used to play strip poker with my husband when we were first married, and we thought that was pretty wild. And I know one time he bought a couple of pairs of fur handcuffs. But what happened to them, I have no idea." I slide my hand up underneath Nick's sweater and discover a sprinkling of soft, silky hair. "A shame really because I had all these fantasies about what he intended doing with them."
"You thought he'd manacle you to the bed and have his wicked way with you? Or maybe turn you on and make you beg?"
"Beg?" Nick's dark, chocolate-brown eyes are full of mischief, so I give an evil chuckle and tug gently on his chest hair. "I admit George wasn't too smart, but he was never cruel."
"Begging under certain circumstances isn't cruel. It has to do with anticipation. Heightening the moment and stretching it out, so that when you finally reach orgasm, the anticipation makes it so much more prolonged and infinitely more satisfying."
"Does it really? I presume this is the voice of experience talking."
He laughs and wraps his arms around me. "Presume whatever you want. I don't kiss and tell."
"In that case, I guess I'll have to find out first hand, won't I?"
A wide grin covers his face. "Want me to tie you to the bed so we can experiment? I'm always ready to oblige a lady."
"I'm sure you are. And thanks, but no thanks. I doubt real ladies indulge in such wicked behavior. In any event, I was thinking that I'd do the tying, and you could do the begging. Nothing weird. Strictly a hands-on experiment, so I can properly understand the process. Provided that's okay with you, of course."
He looks a little nervous about what I'm proposing, but as with most men, I suspect he has more pride than brains, so I'm not surprised when he nods his agreement.
"When do you want to do this?" he asks.
I withdraw my hand from under his sweater and slide it down the front of his jeans. "No time like the present."
He looks really worried now as he glances swiftly around the room. "But we don't have any handcuffs. And what would you tie me to even if we did?"
I pull back into a kneeling position and beckon him to sit up. "There are a ton of beds upstairs. As for the rest..." I shrug, remembering the pile of linen dish towels I've seen in one of the kitchen drawers. They will be perfect for what I need. "I'm a woman. And women always know how to improvise."
After a side trip to the kitchen, where I snag four of the linen towels, I lead the way upstairs. The room I choose has a double, four-poster bed, almost no other furniture, and a view from the window that's obscured by trees.
The room is a little chilly, but rather than turn on the electric fire, I decide to leave it that way. Nothing like cold sheets and a cool room to perk up whatever may need perking. I have a bad habit of running around the house in the altogether, so I know exactly what a waft of cool air can do to a naked body.
Once Nick's clothes are off, he starts to shiver, but I motion him onto the bed and use the towels to tie his extremities to the four posts.
"It's freezing in here. Can you turn on the fire?"
I smile and trail my forefinger down his belly. "It'll be better if I don't. Anticipation may heighten the moment, but cold heightens sensation."
"Not if I'm frozen solid it won't."
"You'll feel slightly chilled is all. And when I touch your skin with my warm hands, oy vey..." I roll my eyes and give a long, theatrical sigh. "I'll have you flying to the moon in no time. Now, just close your eyes and relax." I hesitate as another delicious idea pops into my mind. "Hang on a second. I'll be right back."
I go to my room, which is right next door, and a few seconds later, return with a black silk scarf.
"What's that's for?" Nick asks, looking even more worried now. "If you're planning on tying that thing around my throat..."
"I'm not. This is a blindfold. Anticipation is all very well, but I suspect imagination may work even better under the circumstances." I laugh and wrap the scarf around his head, covering his eyes. "I've heard choking your partner at the right moment can add an extra thrill, but I wouldn't dream of trying anything dangerous like that. At least..." I give what can only be described as a pregnant pause, then add, "Not until I've researched the subject at length and know in precise detail what I'm doing and just how far I can take it without causing any real harm."
If I'm honest, I'd never try anything even a tiny bit dangerous, no matter how well I've checked it out, but Nick's not to know that. If he thinks I would, well... I tie the blindfold securely and tuck a pillow under his head. "All nice and comfy?"
He shivers again. "Fine. But hurry up before I lose the urge."
"No chance of that happening," I murmur as I climb onto the bed, settle myself between his legs and blow hot breath on my hands. He shivers in response as I run my warm hands down his legs and then up over his belly to his chest.
"Feel good?" I ask.
"Feels fantastic. Just don't stop."
I wait for a few seconds, until he pleads for me to continue, then my mouth and tongue join in the fun. I start with a kiss that turns into a hot session of tongue tango, and then, taking my time, I begin to suck, lick and explore every sensitive spot on his body, except for the one thing I know he wants me to touch.
I love the silky feel of Nick's skin and his masculine smell, and the way my touch makes him groan and squirm--it's like an itch he can't scratch. I run the tip of my tongue down his belly and stop a scant inch or two short of point zero. His pride and joy juts out from his body, begging for attention. It's long and thick, and I know he's desperate for me to take it into my mouth--as desperate as I am to open my legs and feel that beautiful big fella pushing and pulsating inside me.
But for the moment, we both have to wait.
Instead, I blow gently on his belly, watching the muscles contract and expand, then I hear a sharp intake of breath as I slip a hand between his legs and start to fondle his balls.
"Please..."
"Please what?"
He makes a sound half way between a laugh and a moan. "Please don't make me beg."
"But that's the whole point." I chuckle and press my finger against his butt hole, gently at first, then harder when he tries to escape my ministrations. "You have to tell me what you want."
He struggles against the restraints for a moment, but quickly realizes he's wasting his time. The linen towels work as well as the best steel handcuffs. "I can't. I..."
I stroke his prick, then cradle it between my breasts as I lean forward and rest my chin on his chest. "Poor baby. You can't what?"
"I can't move, damn it! I want to... Please, Ali, I'm begging. Untie me so I can show you."
I decide to relent a little, but not in the way Nick expects. Instead of untying his bonds, I reverse my position. Placing one knee on either side of his chest, I bend forward and wrap my hands around his cock, angling my bush above his mouth, but just out of reach.
"How's this?" I ask, licking the purple tip, while I run my hands up and down its impressive length. "Feel better?"
"No. It's pure bloody torture," he groans, emitting a blast of warm air that makes my pussy quiver with anticipation. "Come down a bit so I can at least touch you."
Much as I want to stretch this out, I can't hold on much longer. I need to feel Nick's tongue touching me, loving me. I need to untie his bonds and let him take over.
I feel another blast of hot breath, then his tongue stabs hard against my nub, sending a raft of sensations that flood my body and rob me of everything but the need to release him. His tongue strokes me again, and as he begins biting and licking me, I suck him harder. I think about untying him. If I want us to come together--and I do--we have to stop what we're doing. And stop right now.
I stop and quickly untie Nick's ankles first, then his wrists. The next thing I know he has me spread-eagled on the bed. He stares down at me, his dark eyes full of need. "I thought I was a gentleman. But the truth is that I want to fuck you so bad, if I don't do it now, I'll probably go stark, raving mad. Open your legs. Okay?"
I raise my knees and open my legs, then touch myself suggestively as I put on my best seductive smile and run a finger over his lips with my free hand. "What's holding you back, lover?"
"God! You're such a witch." He takes a deep breath, pulls me close and kisses me so hard I taste blood on my lips.
Then, grabbing my butt in both hands, he lifts me up and I feel his cock ram into me. He withdraws and rams into me again and again, his strokes increasing in speed with each thrust.
I wrap my legs around his waist and urge him on. I'm riding him as hard as he's riding me. We're like a couple of randy teenagers who've just discovered sex and can't get enough. I know I'm close to climaxing, and I suspect Nick is, too. But as I feel that glorious rush of sensation wash over me, he keeps going. And before he collapses beside me, totally spent, he's managed to do something that's never happened to me before--he's made me come two times more.
He pulls me close and his mouth touches mine in a kiss that's gentle, but full of promise. He lifts his head and looks at me hard for a moment, then he says, "I have a very demanding job and my work keeps me so busy, I don't normally have the time for relationships. But with you, I want to make the time. Am I making any sense?"
Before we came upstairs, whatever there was between us was light, fun-filled and, let's face it, based on nothing more than physical attraction and mutual lust. I could easily have written off the incident by the river as a rather juvenile spur-of-the-moment fling and waved Nick goodbye without a second's thought. But I know what just happened between us has drawn us immeasurably closer. To say I felt our souls merge sounds more than a little fanciful, but I do believe it's the only explanation I can give.
"I'd like that, too," I say with a sigh. "But I'm only in Foxton a very short time. Just for a few weeks until Mr. McIven gets back from wherever he's gone."
"I know."
"And once this job finishes, I have no idea where I'll be."
He gives me one of his beautiful smiles and kisses the tip of my nose. "I know that, too."
By the time we return to the library, the fire is almost out, the tea is cold, and the one muffin Nick toasted is now as hard as a rock. I go to the kitchen to brew a fresh pot of tea and leave Nick to bring the fire back to life so he can toast more muffins.
When I get back to the library, I find Nick with a frown on his face and his mobile phone clamped to his right ear. "When did you last hear from the driver?" he asks.
The conversation continues in monosyllabic fashion for another couple of minutes, during which time he paces back and forth in front of the fireplace. Suddenly, he concludes the conversation and snaps the phone closed. "Did I leave my jacket in the kitchen?"
"I believe so. Where are you going?"
"Emergency," he replies, heading out of the room, with me following along behind. "Sorry, I have to go, but I'll explain later."
"Can you give me a hint?"
He grabs his jacket from the back of one of the kitchen chairs and slips it on. "A lot of transport vehicles get hijacked in this country. My company tries to prevent the hijackers getting away with it. If I'm able to solve the problem quickly, I'll be back in an hour or two. If not, I'll call you tomorrow." He pulls me close and kisses me lightly on the mouth. "I'm really sorry about this."
"Yeah. Me, too." More sorry than I care to admit if I'm honest. As he turns away, I recall the dish of keys I saw in one the cupboards. If I remember correctly, the label on one of them was labeled Front Door-Spare.
I find the key and hurry after him. "If you do make it back, you can let yourself in with this," I say, giving him a sultry smile as I press the strip of cold metal into his warm hand. "I might be in the bath or maybe in bed, and I wouldn't want to keep you waiting."
A hint of heat appears in his dark eyes, but just as quickly disappears as he pockets the key. "I'll try not to be too long."
"Try your very hardest," I whisper, as I watch his car hesitate at the end of the driveway before it turns out onto the road.
With both Nick and my appetite for food gone, I return to the library, collect our tea things and take them back to the kitchen. After washing the dishes, I dispose of the overcooked muffin in the trash, put the others in a plastic bag and place them in the fridge next to the éclairs. With a little luck, Nick will come back after he's dealt with his emergency, and we can have our proper English tea party tomorrow.
Or was his emergency just an excuse to back off without a fuss? The English version of I got what I came for and now I'm outta here?
But then I remind myself what he said about wanting a relationship with me. I stifle a sigh, tell myself not to be stupid, and sit down on one of the kitchen chairs. Today is the first time I've slept with anyone since George. Not because I haven't had the opportunity--there are always plenty of those--but because I've been too scared to take a chance and risk history repeating itself. I also didn't want to engage in a bout of bed hopping like some of my friends. One friend said it made her feel better, boosted her morale and restored her confidence in no time flat. I can't imagine how it would make me feel, other than sad and used, like a wad of gum that's been chewed until the flavor has all gone.
Although with Nick, I have a feeling I'll be just fine. Nick is a gentleman and a good guy...nothing at all like George. I know, I used to think George was pretty good, too, until the day I caught him shoving his tongue down a bimbo's throat.
I sigh again and push away from the table. I don't feel like reading, and I don't care much for British TV because my brain can't handle their brand of humor. However, I recall seeing a stack of videos in the master bedroom and run upstairs to take a look.
Once I sort through them, I'm disappointed to find they don't offer much in the way of entertainment--a travel video for my home state of California, several so-so movies I've seen, one or two you couldn't pay me to watch, and one that looks suspiciously like porn. I stick this last one in the machine and watch snow for a few seconds, then a gardening show comes on, and I soon realize someone has taped over the good stuff.
With nothing better to do, I figure this is as good a time as any to clean up the mess McIven left in his room. Did I mention I'm a bit of a neat freak? But after picking up the towels from the bathroom floor, giving the butterscotch-colored tub and sink a good cleaning, and stripping the sheets from the bed, I've had enough.
I'd been hoping Nick would get back in time for us to share a lovely, long soak in a hot bath, and maybe a cup of hot chocolate in front of the fire. But that hasn't happened, so I settle for a quick shower, then hop into bed, where I plan to dream of our lovely day together.
I fall asleep fast when I'm tired, but suddenly my eyes are open and I'm wide awake. Moonlight is shining in through the window, and I see Nick standing at the foot of my bed.
I flip back a corner of the blankets. "Wanna come into the warm with me?"
"No, thank you. I'm not cold."
"No?" I struggle to sit up. "In that case, why did you bother coming back?"
"Back?" He appears a tad confused. "But I... Ah, now I understand. You think I'm Nick, correct?"
"Of course you're Nick. Who else coul
d you be?" I snuggle back under the covers. "Just stop playing games and get into bed. It's late, and I'm beat."
"I'm sorry to disappoint you, but I'm not Nick. I'm Nathan."
I sit up again, fast. "Nathan who?"
"Nathan Berringford. Nick's twin brother. I live here at the hall."
Twin brother? I've heard of people craving a sibling to the point where they invent one, but... I pull the covers up to my chin and wonder if that happened to Nick, or if he has that dual personality thing, while I shoot a quick glance at my only escape route. Unfortunately, my visitor is standing right in my way. Fortunately, he doesn't show any indication of wanting to harm me. At least, I hope he doesn't want to do anything like that.
"You don't believe me, do you?"
"Well...umm, I admit Nick didn't say anything about having a twin."
"No, he wouldn't, so I'd better explain. Do you mind?" He points to the bottom corner of the bed, and when I gesture with my hand that it's okay, he sits down on the edge. "Nick and I were born in this house, and we both lived here until we were in our early twenties. But a series of bad investments and some lousy luck put our father on the verge of bankruptcy. After his death, mother sold anything and everything that was worth a pound or two and, somehow, the three of us managed to hang on for a few more years. But then she died, and the next thing we knew, the tax man was here with his hand out, looking for the death duties that were owing.
"Nick and I had hoped, in the time we had between our two parents dying, that we might somehow manage to reverse the family fortunes, or build a new fortune that would solve all our problems. Needless to say, we weren't successful. The death duties were enormous, and the tax man wouldn't wait indefinitely, so the house and grounds had to be sold."
The only major difference between what Nathan has just told me and what Nick said when I arrived is that Nick didn't mention the people with all the financial problems were his family. "But you say you still live here?"
"It's my home. Where else would you have me go?"
"Does Mr. McIven know you're living here?"
Inseparable Page 5
