“Taters?”
“Sorry. That’s an old one. Potatoes in the mould—cold.”
She gave him a wry look and walked over to the igloo and began inspecting it while he made them a drink—a glass of mulled wine made from red wine warmed with slices of orange and lemon and cinnamon sticks. He’d left it in the saucepan on the tiny stove and it was still warm enough to make his insides glow.
He gave her a glass, and she tasted some. “Yum,” she said, and licked her lips.
“Yeah, not bad. My mum’s recipe.”
“I wasn’t talking about the wine.” Her gaze raked him, and then she giggled.
Felix grinned, put an arm around her and pulled her close. “Have I cheered you up?”
“You always cheer me up.” She looked up at him, resting one hand on his chest. “I mean it.”
“Thank you.” He felt surprisingly pleased by her comment.
Holding her head, he kissed her, enjoying the warmth of the wine on her tongue, alcohol and excitement beginning to thread through his veins, the anticipation of the evening ahead almost too much to bear.
She raised her free arm around his neck and slid her fingers through his hair, and they kissed for a while, slowly and languorously. He could tell by the hungry way she responded to him, and the pure delight she took in it, that she’d been telling the truth when she’d said her ex hadn’t enjoyed it. Felix couldn’t understand it. Who didn’t enjoy kissing? For a start, it was like preparing a canvas before applying the oil paints—necessary to get the best finished product.
However, foreplay was also a task he’d never considered a burden but more of a pleasurable pastime. It had become clear to him in his teens that women took a lot longer than men did to get turned on. His mates had sometimes complained about it, expressing impatience with the laborious process of arousing a girl. Felix had never understood that approach. Hell, what wasn’t fun about kissing, licking and touching? The whole process was so enjoyable, why wouldn’t he want to spend as long as he could leading up to the denouement, which could easily be over in minutes, if not seconds, if the girl was really hot?
So he’d thrown himself into the task of exploring what women found satisfying as he grew in experience. He learned quickly that every girl was different. Some liked using their tongue when they kissed, others didn’t. Most liked their nipples paid attention to, but occasionally one flinched, so he learned to take it slow before launching right in. He’d yet to find a woman who didn’t like receiving oral sex, but not all liked to give it, and that was fine. He preferred it if they did, though.
That was one area Lindsey hadn’t been so keen on. Felix didn’t like to think about it because he preferred to think of her as perfect, but it was the one area on which they hadn’t quite seen eye to eye. She’d gone down on him because she loved him and she knew he enjoyed it, but he’d been able to tell that she didn’t enjoy it much. She’d licked around him as if he were a melting ice lolly, but had disliked taking him far inside her mouth with an obvious fear of gagging, and on the few occasions he’d lost control and come, she’d been careful to move back out of the way. It had puzzled him at the time, because in most other ways she was very open about sex and willing to try almost anything. He knew not to take it to heart though, because other girls before and after her had reacted in a similar way—some refusing to let him come in their mouth, others relenting but then spitting quietly into a tissue afterward. He didn’t complain, but he’d always felt strangely hurt afterward, as if he was somehow disgusting.
So he thought he knew how Coco felt about sex considering what her ex had been like, and it sounded as if Michael been a hell of a lot worse in general than Lindsey had been in just one aspect. He wanted to continue to prove to Coco that nothing she wanted to do was revolting or repulsive, and that where he was concerned, everything was on the table.
Including them, if she so desired.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Coco leaned back against the kitchen counter and let Felix kiss her senseless. Jeez, he was so good at it. How had she lived without this all her life? How was she going to live without it once he’d gone? No, she wasn’t going to think about that. Wasn’t going to think about how bereft she would be once he’d left and there were no more secret assignations to look forward to, to brighten her day.
Once the thought had entered her head, though, it was difficult to stop it, and Felix must have sensed the lapse in her passion because he lifted his head and stroked her cheek. “What’s the matter?”
She shook her head and smiled. “I’m eager to get inside. You’ve done such a wonderful job here—you’re absolutely amazing.”
She meant it—she could hardly believe it was the same room in which she’d lain on the beach and watched the ocean. For a start, it was freezing, and the snowy vista he’d projected onto the wall mysteriously added to the cold so that she really felt as if she were standing in Siberia somewhere, the wind howling the snowflakes around her. The igloo was delightful—it even had the little tunnel to protect the doorway she’d seen in photographs. And as for the stuffed toy seal…
The tears came without her prompting, and she had to blink quickly to stop them falling. Felix obviously saw them, though, because his lips curved even as a frown crossed his brow, and he put his arms around her and pulled her close. “What’s up with you? This doesn’t look like how Miss Stark would normally react.” He kissed her forehead. “You really are two different people, aren’t you?”
“She keeps her emotions very well hidden,” Coco mumbled. She laid her cheek on his chest. He wore so many layers that she couldn’t hear the thump of his heart, but it was comforting all the same.
He tightened his arms around her, and they stood there like that for a moment. She could almost feel the cold snowflakes touching her face—was tempted to stick out her tongue and catch them on there, let them dissolve on its warmth.
She liked him. There, she’d thought it, and the world hadn’t crumbled. She liked him a lot, and she was going to miss him when he went. But that was okay. It didn’t mean she should leave right now, or not see him again, or even tell him. She’d admitted it to herself, and now she could bury it deep inside her like an artefact, and maybe one day she’d be able to excavate it and look at it again, admire it like a treasure, something pretty she could keep close to her heart as she grew old and grey, alone.
“Jeez,” she said out loud, “what the hell is in that wine?”
“A splash of brandy. Or two,” he admitted. “Why?”
She shook her head and pulled back a little to look up at him. “I’m growing maudlin and I’ve only had one glass.”
His face creased. “That was not the intention I had at all—it was supposed to be relaxing.” He let his arms fall and took her hand. “Come on. Let’s go inside—I’m sure that will cheer you up.”
She didn’t want him to think she wasn’t having a good time, so she brightened her smile and kissed his cheek before letting him lead her across to the tunnel into the igloo. It was only one box deep and wouldn’t have given much protection against the roaring wind and snow, but it looked good.
She dropped to her knees and crawled inside. Then she sat back on her heels and stared in delight.
The ceiling wasn’t high, maybe a foot above her head where she was kneeling, but it was surprisingly spacious, bigger than a lot of tents, maybe ten feet in diameter. Felix had brought one of the bed mattresses into the room and built the igloo around it, and he’d covered the mattress in a couple of duvets and pillows before finally throwing a large square of faux fur over the top to give a rustic look.
To the side of the “bed” he’d placed a tray with a bowl of chocolate fish, and he put their glasses and a jug of the mulled wine he’d brought in with him onto it. The light from a small lamp filled the room with a warm glow, and although the cool air still made her unwilling to strip off, it felt cosier than the arctic conditions of the living room.
She burst out l
aughing when she saw what he’d hung from one of the walls—the large head of a toy reindeer, looking for all the world like a stuffed deer from a hunting cabin.
He pushed the duvets to one side, sat on the bed and smiled at her. “What do you think?”
She crawled over to him, pressed him onto his back and sat astride him. “I think you’re marvellous, Felix Wilkinson, and I think you deserve a rather excellent shag this evening for all your hard work.”
He laughed and ran his hands up her. “Well, that wasn’t the only reason I did it all, but I wouldn’t say no.”
She leaned forward and kissed him, and felt his hand slide into her hair to cup her head. He liked to hold her firmly while he kissed her, as if afraid she might move away, but there was little chance of that happening. He kissed like a king, his lips warm and firm, moving across hers with a slowness that made her heart race and an ache begin between her thighs. His tongue brushed into her mouth, sweet with wine, and she did the same, shy at first as always, but growing with confidence as he murmured his approval.
Eventually, he caught her around the waist, turned her onto her side and pulled her close to him, into his arms.
“So what are the rules for this evening?” she whispered, unnerved by the warmth in his brown eyes, the smell and taste and feel of him.
He leaned across and pulled the duvets over them, enclosing them in a warm, safe world full of promise and anticipation. If she lifted her head, she could see the snowflakes whizzing by through the tunnel to the outside world. It really felt as if they were thousands of miles from civilisation, just the two of them, closeted in this private world. How had that happened? How had she managed to hook up with such a gorgeous man who really seemed to be into her?
He pulled her closer, hooking her leg across him, and nuzzled her neck. “Well the idea was to make love fully clothed, like the Inuit supposedly do.” He nibbled her earlobe, and she shivered. “That seems a shame though, when you have such a beautiful body. Why don’t we say anything goes—but all clothing has to be removed and all action has to happen beneath the duvet?”
She giggled. “Okay.”
“Let’s start with our coats.” He began to unbutton hers.
Chapter Thirty-Three
It was odd, she thought dreamily as his fingers popped the buttons through the holes, how the scenario somehow mirrored their situation—that although events and time continued to spin in a whorl around them like the snowflakes, they’d somehow managed to find time to explore each other secretly, to develop a relationship outside the office. Okay so it wasn’t a relationship as such—he might have met her mother, but this was nothing more than mutual fulfilment during a time of need—but even so it amazed and delighted her that they’d found each other, that, like two comets passing through a solar system, they were briefly sharing the same space until the time came for them to move on.
He reached the bottom of her coat and started to tug it off her shoulders, so she wriggled beneath the duvet, starting to laugh as she got it halfway down her back and then got stuck.
Instead of helping her, however, his eyes gleamed, and he pushed her. She fell back and squealed, unable to move because her hands were pinned behind her.
“You’re at my mercy,” he said, moving above her. “Mwahaha.” His hair fell across dark eyes filled with passion, and he half lay on her, squishing her with his heavy weight.
She couldn’t move at all, and she realised that once again he could do whatever he wanted with her. He was the perfect gentleman ninety-five percent of the time, and yet as her eyes met his, she remembered the moment in the limo when she’d been sitting on top of him and he’d changed. At the time it had been as if he’d flipped a switch and turned on a sexual energy that had flowed between them, following which he’d proceeded to tip her onto the floor and take her like something out of a porn movie.
Deep down, she knew that if she’d protested at any moment, he’d have stopped immediately—she trusted him implicitly, although why she wasn’t sure as she hardly knew anything about him. But the thought that she really was at his mercy—that this gorgeous man wanted her and was determined to have her pretty much regardless of anything else—gave her a thrill she’d never experienced before in her life.
She waited for him to kiss her, but he didn’t move, studying her face, and she wondered if he was remembering that moment in the limo too, when she’d tried to say that she wanted more—wanted every piece of him, wanted him to hold nothing back. It was more than gratification, although she knew she’d struggle to put it into words. It was about desire, which she was beginning to understand wasn’t the same thing as sex at all. Sex—in itself—was a physical thing, a process of pressing buttons with the aim of achieving an outcome—an orgasm.
But desire was so much more than that. She’d never, ever felt this longing, this absolutely craving for another human being. She hungered for him, ached to have him inside her, to pleasure him, to watch his face crease with the fierce frown of passion that gave her such a thrill. And, judging by his expression, he was feeling the same way—his eyes penetrating, burning into her as something passed between them again—a tremor like an earthquake aftershock, a frisson of excitement.
“Fuck,” he said, rubbing a thumb across her cheek. “You’re so beautiful.”
Her chest heaved and her heart pounded, and when he finally kissed her, plunging his tongue into her mouth as his hand moved up her thigh to cup between her legs, she moaned and arched toward him, shocked and aroused by the sudden heat between them.
Suddenly things turned serious and intense. He pulled off her coat and she unbuttoned his jacket and removed that, and then they started work on the next layer. Although she was desperate to feel his naked body against hers, and clearly he felt the same, they took their time, making the undressing part of the game, stroking and kissing each part of the other’s flesh as it gradually appeared.
She dragged a sweater over his head to find a thinner one underneath and splayed her hands on his chest, stroking up across his ribs and shoulders, impressed by the firmness of his muscles beneath the cotton.
He groaned. “You’re driving me crazy.” He popped the button at the top of her jeans and tugged them. “I swear, Coco, if I’m not inside you in less than a minute, you’re going to be sorry.”
“Promises, promises,” she panted, helping him push them off.
By now his hair was all ruffled and their faces were pink with the effort of getting undressed and the warmth of the bed beneath the duvet. The impatient look on his face made her giggle, and that made him stop and give her a wry glare.
“You think this is funny?” He leaned over her, supported on strong, muscular arms. “Do I amuse you?” He moved between her legs.
“Yes.” She started to unbutton his jeans. “You’re a constant source of entertainment for me.”
He pushed her hands away and moved down her body, sliding up her sweater so he could kiss down her stomach, making it quiver. “Right, that does it.” He kissed her hips and then the sensitive skin of her abdomen above her panties, and then before she could object, pulled them to one side and buried his mouth in her.
She bucked and exclaimed at the feel of his tongue sliding into her folds, her cheeks flaming. “Felix!”
“Lie still,” he growled, lifting momentarily to whip off her panties before nestling back between her thighs to continue his ministrations.
“I thought you wanted to be inside me,” she panted, closing her eyes as his fingers joined his tongue and slid into her.
“Plenty of time for that later.” He rubbed his thumb across her clit before teasing it with his tongue. “You smell too good to pass by on this opportunity.”
“Oh jeez…” She lifted her arms to cover her face. He was insane. Did he really enjoy doing this? The deep murmurs of appreciation that rumbled from him occasionally would seem to suggest he did. He didn’t appear to be lying there counting the seconds until she came. She bit her lip and
forced herself to relax, to allow herself to enjoy it. Who knew if she’d ever have anyone go down on her again in her life? She had to make the most of it whilst it was offered.
So she let her thighs fall open and abandoned herself to his attentions, encouraged by his whispered words of approval. God, he was so good at it. How much practice had he had? How many women had he been with in his lifetime? She surprised herself by feeling a sweep of envy for the nebulous Lindsey, for whom he obviously still felt a deep love and affection. Imagine living with this man, waking up next to him, being able to play with him in bed every single night if she so chose. No, actually she couldn’t imagine it. It was so far out of the realms of her experience that she couldn’t even begin to comprehend how wonderful it would be.
And now her thoughts were spiralling, her senses that had previously been filled with the taste of wine, the sound of the wind howling outside the door and the smell of Felix’s aftershave as he kissed her focusing instead on the sensations he was creating down below. Because now he was dipping his fingers inside her to gather her moisture, and then sliding them down right underneath her to her tight entrance, which he proceeded to tease with a finger.
She bit her arm to stop herself crying out as he carried on with his exploration, all the while continuing to tease her clit with his tongue. The sensations were like nothing she’d experienced before, and she couldn’t believe he was doing it.
“Felix…” she whispered as her muscles began to tighten, moving a hand down to slide into his hair.
He gave a small murmur of encouragement and probed a little deeper.
The orgasm crept over her like a rising tide, slow and steady, everything tightening before beginning to pulse around his mouth and fingers, exquisite and blissful. She tightened her hand in his hair, crying out with pleasure, calling his name, feeling safe and secure, as if he was guiding her there.
Five Exotic Fantasies: Love in Reverse, Book 3 Page 20
