by Alysha Ellis
He led her up a flight of stairs and into his flat. Zakk opened the door and ushered her in—to his apartment—late at night—for reasons that might have been obvious but which probably weren’t. There was no way she could just come out and ask him. At the moment, she couldn’t even work up the courage to look him in the eyes.
Her heart rate picked up to somewhere near panic attack mode. Her chest felt tight and she needed to pee. There was no ignoring it. Her body had decided no humiliation was too far.
“Zakk, I have to… Can I, ah, use your loo?”
“Yeah, sure,” Zakk said, as if it were the most natural request in the world. “Over there.” He gestured toward a plain white door and Kitty fled.
A minute or two later she stood at the bathroom sink washing her hands. A quick inspection of the small bathroom revealed a single white towel hung on the rail, and a laundry hamper with the lid closed stood in the corner. Not a slob then, Kitty noted. Because she was human, she snuck open the door of the bathroom cabinet. Apart from toothpaste and shaving gear, some male cologne and moisturizer and several tubes of sunblock, the shelves were bare. If he had a girlfriend, she didn’t live in or even sleep over very much. Kitty didn’t attempt to explain or justify the little spurt of satisfaction wiggling through her veins.
The door swung shut revealing a mirror hung on the back of it. The overhead fluorescent light threw her face into harsh relief. Her hair was a tangle of wild curls. Her mouth, with its lipstick long worn away, and her naturally pale complexion made her look drawn and, she feared, every bit her age. Her bag, as usual, was a mess—the keys to her flat, the mobile phone she hadn’t yet used because she didn’t know anyone in Australia well enough, a small packet of tissues, some hand wipes left over from a meal in the transit lounge on the way out, a handful of change, some headache tablets and a tube of hand cream, all had to be rummaged through and tossed aside before she found her lipstick.
A quick swipe barely added to her confidence, but at least she looked like she might manage to live through the night. Nothing could be done to give her face the sun-kissed color people who lived in this sun-drenched country attained just by going about their daily routine.
When she emerged from the bathroom, the smell of fresh coffee greeted her. Zakk poked his head around an open doorway. “Coffee’s ready.”
He beckoned with his finger, and Kitty followed him into the kitchen. Zakk pulled a chair out for her.
When he sat next to her at the small, round table, his legs rubbed against hers. Maybe she should move aside, but her muscles had a will of their own and stayed right where they were.
He placed a cup in front of her.
“Cappuccino?” she asked in amazement.
“It’s what you had at dinner,” he replied. “Is it not what you want? I can make another…”
“No, I just wasn’t expecting it. I thought you’d have instant or something.”
An adorable trace of red tinged his cheeks. “Maybe it’s a bit hipster of me, but I like coffee, so I bought a machine.”
“It’s not hipster, it’s sensible.” This small thing he clearly thought was a chink in his armor made him seem more ordinary. Yeah. Right. Zakk was an ordinary, movie star-handsome, lifesaving hero who spent his weekends volunteering at the beach. The kind you bumped into on every street corner.
“Kitty, if you look at me like that, I’m going to have to…” He leaned forward and brushed a kiss across her lips.
Kitty’s mouth opened on a soft, “Oh…”
“Oh, yes,” he echoed, and he slipped his arms around her and pulled her closer. His mouth settled over hers, shaping and holding, his tongue sliding along the seam, seeking entrance.
He tasted warm, like coffee and salt and something new and exciting. Something sensual and musky and Zakk. Her heartbeat sped up, zinging her blood around her body, lighting little flames that fizzed and sparked into life. She lifted her arms and cupped the back of Zakk’s head, the silken caress of his dark hair against her palms erotic and enticing.
He slid his hands down her back, gripped her hips and pulled her forward to the edge of the chair. Kitty tensed as reality crashed back in. Hers were the hips of a mature, slightly plump woman, not the long, lean shanks of an Australian beach babe. Almost as if he thought the same thing, Zakk broke off the kiss and pulled back. Her face began to flame, not with passion but with embarrassment, as Kitty waited for the brush-off.
Zakk opened his mouth and Kitty braced herself.
“I want you, Kitty. Come to bed with me.”
It took a moment for what he had said to sink in. “Me. You want me? But I’m—”
“Gorgeous. Your skin is so soft, so English, and you… Kitty, you’re so…” He ran his hands through his hair. “Am I allowed to say feminine? Sweet? Definitely gorgeous? I don’t want to be politically incorrect and say the wrong thing.”
He’d called her sweet and gorgeous and he was afraid she might object? He was mistaken, or he’d had far more to drink than he realized and she really ought to set him straight. Before she could say anything he leaned in for another kiss and any attempt at rational argument disappeared. She let herself fall into him. Reason, prudence, caution fell with her.
When Zakk pulled her to her feet, she went willingly. Her legs wobbled and she leaned against him for support. He shuffled backwards, never easing the pressure of those relentless, feverish kisses, and, eager for more, Kitty followed, her thighs pressed against his, her hips bumping against the rigid bulge in his pants. Some distant voice in her head begged her to stop and think, but she’d been blocking it out for a while and had no intention of listening now.
Zakk spun her gently around, toppled her onto the bed and whispered, “Let me, Kitty. Let me do this.”
Years of putting herself second, of doing what was expected of her, years of sheer unmet need, fueled the urgency of her response. “Yes. Oh, yes.”
With his slender, competent hands, Zakk unbuttoned her shirt. “I want to see you,” he whispered. “I need light.” He reached one hand out toward the lamp on the bedside table.
Panic rushed up to drag her back to awareness. “No, leave it off,” she cried. If he looked at her, really looked, he would see what she was—not what he imagined—and she couldn’t bear it. “There’s enough light coming in through the window,” she whispered and leaned up to take his mouth again. As a distraction it worked perfectly and he moaned into her, licking his way back to heat and passion.
He pulled away at last and slid his lips down her neck, taking tiny bites as he went, then licking the sting away He inched his way beneath her back and unclipped her bra and nudged it up so it left her breasts bare. A quick twist of his wrist and the bra and shirt tumbled away to land somewhere Kitty couldn’t be bothered worrying about.
He sighed and bent to take a nipple into his mouth, smoothing his tongue across it, his hand stroking her other breast, rolling the peak into a hard knot, setting sparks glowing again. Her breasts weren’t large, but tonight Kitty was glad. Lying here on her back in the half-light, Zakk might be fooled into thinking they were younger and perkier than she knew they were.
In the soft shadows cast by the streetlights, Zakk looked like an ancient god, all firm angles and clean-cut lines. Kitty wanted her hands on him, wanted to taste him. This might be her only chance and she was going to enjoy every minute of it.
The buttons on his shirt yielded under her hand, and he shrugged his powerful shoulders to help her slide it away. The rounded curve of his muscles was smooth under her palms. A shudder of erotic delight danced along her nerve endings when she stroked the smooth wall of his chest and grazed her thumb across his hard, flat nipples. His body tensed and his cock jumped against her stomach, sinking her further into the deep well of desire.
Zakk lifted her so he could push her skirt down off her thighs, dragging her panties with it. A momentary flash of nervousness hit. Did he expect her to be fully shaved? A Brazilian wax? Would her simple biki
ni line trim turn him off?
If it did, he showed no sign of it, parting her curls with his tongue and opening her folds to his exploration. He splayed his hands out on her stomach, holding her still for a moment, then he took one long lick until he found her clitoris and stayed there, taking it between his lips, closing his teeth gently over it with a gentle tug. Golden-white roman candles exploded behind her eyes. The walls of her vagina clamped and pulsed. She whimpered and thrust forward, instinctively seeking more pressure, more heat…just more.
Her vision clouded and dimmed. All her senses focused on that one tight, wet spot where Zakk licked and bit and drove her toward a dark, beckoning oblivion. Her back arched and she let the black waves wash over her, drowning her.
When she drifted to the surface again, Zakk had crawled up to lie beside her. He kissed her, the scent of her own arousal on his lips an erotic perfume.
He surged to his feet, pushing his pants and boxers down with one firm movement. Although Zakk was athletically slender, even in the half-light of the room Kitty could see his cock was thick, corded with veins that stood out under the pressure of the blood that rushed to give him his erection. For the first time Kitty regretted the absence of stronger light.
Zakk turned to the bedside table and Kitty heard a soft rustle, then he turned back to the bed, resting one knee on it, leaning over her, so close Kitty gave in to irresistible temptation and wrapped her fingers around his cock.
“Oh, God, Kitty. Harder.” His hips jerked and he thrust into her fist.
Without conscious volition, Kitty’s legs opened wider, and her hand pulled him down to where she wanted him.
“Tell me you want this, Kitty,” he whispered. “Tell me you know what we are doing here. Say yes. Please say yes.”
“Yes,” Kitty said on a soft rush of air. “Yes, yes.”
Zakk drew his hips back, sliding his cock out of her hand. He probed her entrance with the sheathed head and with one long smooth stroke stretched and filled her until she gasped.
“Are you all right?” he asked, his voice tight.
Stupid question. A sea of lust and pleasure had floated her away to a new world. The new, amazing things happening to her body had swamped her brain and she could only reply with the words she’d used already, “Yes. Oh yes.”
The words broke a dam of restraint and Zakk surged forward, plunging and bucking in a frenzied rhythm, the hot wet friction carrying her back into a velvet realm of desire and tension.
Her fingers clutching his sweat-slippery back gave her a grounding point as the world swayed and rolled around her. With each thrust, she rocked with him, against him—a give and take where they raced toward the same prize.
He shuddered and pressed farther in, filling and stretching her.
The sound that escaped her was half a groan of pleasure, half a plea for more.
“You like that,” he stated rather than asked, and twisted slightly so he hit the same spot over and over again. Kitty arched her back, her whole body tensing until she touched the bed only with her shoulders and heels. Then she shattered into a million pieces.
Her muscles clenched around Zakk—the fullness of him, the thickness, driving the contractions harder and longer, until it pulsed and pumped with the force of Zakk’s orgasm. He threw his head back, bared teeth that even in the darkness shone white and gave a low, guttural moan.
He held himself poised over her for a long moment then dropped his head onto her neck and nuzzled. “Kitty… That was… You’re…” His words trailed off.
“Good?” she asked through heaving lungs.
“Hot damn. A hell of a lot better than good.” He arched up and withdrew, turning to grab a handful of tissues to dispose of the condom. He returned to lie on his side next to her, stroking the curve of her flank from shoulder to thigh with his finger. The motion, so soothing and gentle after their wild ride, acted like a soporific and Kitty’s eyes closed.
* * * *
In her dream, Kitty’s muscles twitched. An unusual soreness jerked her awake. For a panic-stricken moment she couldn’t remember where she was, thought she was back in the UK. Then she remembered—Australia, new country, new city, new bed. And—oh shit—this was not her bed.
Beside her, long and lean and stretched out on his stomach, lay Zakk—fast asleep, a sheet bunched up over his hips, his shoulders bare—and leaving her no longer perky breasts and her far too rounded, far too white stomach horribly exposed.
A surreptitious tug did nothing other than show that any further attempt to reclaim the bedclothes would wake Zakk, which would be a really, really bad idea. Her stomach churned at the thought of how the morning after conversation might go. The fact that it was still dark made absolutely no difference to how awkward that would be. What had she done?
Stupid question again. She knew exactly what she’d done. She just didn’t know why. What had happened to destroy all those years of carefully built up inhibitions, codes of behavior and plain good sense and self-preservation?
What must Zakk think of her? That she was some desperate cougar who would sleep with anybody if the circumstances permitted? Had he just taken advantage of an opportunity and gone for it? Or maybe she hadn’t noticed and he’d been a bit tipsy—what was the phrase she’d read on that cartoon on the Internet? Beer goggles? And all the jokes made it clear—in the morning, when the beer goggles wore off, horror was left behind, along with the difficulty of getting rid of someone you wished you had never ever let into your bed in the first place.
There was no way she was going to be here to face that look of shock and disgust when Zakk woke up and was faced with what—who—he’d done the night before.
She pulled her knees slowly up from under the tight grip of the sheet, turned sideways and slid out of the bed. Her shirt and skirt were easy to find, even in the faint light from the street lamp outside the window. It took several minutes crawling around on her hands and knees before she located her panties almost hidden under the bed. That left only her bra. Twisting her head sideways, bum stuck up in the air, she checked under the bed. Nothing—not even a dust bunny.
A loop of white contrasted against Zakk’s dark sheets caught her eye. The bra was half on and half off the bed, trapped by one of Zakk’s shoulders.
Getting out of there undetected was more important than getting out of there fully dressed. Her blouse was opaque so she slid it on, leaving the bra where it was. One more humiliation and probably no more than she deserved.
For a moment she stared longingly at the bathroom door, but relieving herself might wake Zakk, and she thought she could wait until she got home, or until she found a public toilet. She tiptoed to the door, almost tripping on her shoes, which she’d kicked off sometime during that strange backwards dance to the bed.
Shoes on, she raced down the stairs and to the street, not looking back. The map on her phone estimated it to be a twenty minute walk back to her flat. It was four thirty—close enough to the start of the day to make it safe for her to walk through streets deserted except for a few early workers, yet dark enough so no one would see her walk of shame, her clothes crumpled, her arms crossed in front of her to hide her braless state.
Chapter Three
By a stroke of good luck, Kitty’s days off for the next week fell on Monday and Tuesday. Kitty spent the time hiding. She had enough food to eliminate the need to shop. She pulled the curtains and watched old movies on TV, anything to stop herself from thinking and remembering and wishing she had acted differently, or been different… Or had just had a clue about how to deal with the situation.
The last thing she wanted to do was encounter Zakk. If he hadn’t worked at the steelworks, maybe she wouldn’t have had to see him ever again. But he did work there, so on Wednesday, instead of taking the direct path to her office, she took the long way around, avoiding the industrial sheds and furnaces.
The formal atmosphere and the convention of no social chit-chat suited her mood. At eleven forty-five she
went to the tearoom for her allowed break, sitting at the lone table, her cup of tea clasped in her hand. The door swung open and Jenny walked in.
“Oh, hey, Kitty. So, what happened on Friday night?” she asked.
“Nothing,” Kitty lied. “I had dinner then went home.”
“With Zakk?” Jenny grinned.
“Alone. I went home alone.” That was the truth. She’d just left out a few details. She took a sip of her tea and hoped she looked innocent.
Jenny’s shoulders slumped. “I thought there might have been more to tell. Especially since Zakk came in looking for you on Monday morning.”
The tea in Kitty’s mouth sprayed out and splashed the front of her shirt. She grabbed a tissue and swiped at the mess. Without raising her head, she asked, “What did he want?”
“He didn’t say,” Jenny replied. “He just asked if you were in. I told him your next rostered shift was today.”
Kitty stood and tossed her half-full tea in the sink. “I, um, better get back to work,” she said, and bolted from the room.
One o’clock—the time she’d normally stop for lunch—rolled around, but she stayed at her desk. Two o’clock passed and she kept typing. At five past two the outer door to the office slammed open and one angry, large male stormed in, disturbing the air-conditioned calm.
“What the hell happened, Kitty?” Zakk yelled. “One minute you’re sound asleep and the next, you were gone.”
Kitty’s face flamed and she looked around the office. Only Jenny was there, and she seemed struck by sudden deafness and blindness as she pounded away on her computer.
“Zakk—not here, please.”
“I waited for you to come out to lunch,” he said, his temper reflected in his clipped sharp tones. “I’ve been watching for you out of my office window since twelve thirty.”
“I didn’t stop for lunch,” she said. His eyebrows rose and she spoke rapidly. “I was, er, too busy.”
“You’re entitled to a lunch break,” he replied. “Take it now and we’ll talk about what the hell happened on Friday night.”
