by Anna Mara
He smirked at her then—that damned, smug Havenwood smirk that she hated so much. "Hey, you threw the first punch… lady!" he mocked her, implying she was no 'lady'.
"Why you…" She furiously looked down at the table of food trying to see what she could throw next.
She spotted the silver bowl with the thick, gummy cream of corn. Scooping up a large handful, she hauled back and threw it at him with as much force as she could muster. It caught him on the nose and mouth; and landed on his jacket.
Angry, Bill wiped it off with the back of his hand.
"So you like it rough, do you?" he gritted through set teeth. "Well, so do I!" He too looked down on the table and spotted a large bowl of chocolate pudding that no one had touched during dessert. Grabbing it, he menacingly started to walk around the table towards Christina.
Christina backed away. "Don't you dare!" she screamed at him.
At that precise moment, Geoffrey, the under butler, walked in to clear the table off. On seeing Master Bill and Madam Christina caked in food—and Bill advancing on his fiancée with the bowl of pudding, he quickly did a one-eighty out of the room—and shutting the door behind him, ran to tell the rest of the staff what was going on in the dining room.
Meanwhile, Bill was still approaching Christina with the pudding while she kept backing away.
"I warn you, Bill Havenwood, stay away from me," she threatened.
"Or else what? You'll leave? We both know you won't do that. You've got a great setup here and you don't want to lose it."
"That's crap and only a pea-brained ninny like you would come up with an idiotic idea like that."
Bill laughed, "Oh, so I'm a ninny and an idiot, am I?"
"Yes," Christina shouted, just as her back came up against the wall. She gasped in surprise.
Bill took a few more steps towards her and he had her cornered. He gave her an evil smile, "Well, it's better than being a sharp-tongued witch like you!"
And then he smoothly dumped the whole contents of the bowl of pudding onto her little black dress. Christina gasped as the creamy, slimy concoction slid down the front of her dress, onto her chest and exposed cleavage. She was breathing heavily from anger, not believing that the rat had actually had the nerve to do it. She looked back up at him and saw the twinkle of laughter in his eyes, as he brazenly looked her up and down.
"Now there's something you don't see everyday—chocolate covered breasts. Yummy." he said, laughing at her again.
"Well, eat this then…" she angrily replied as she ran both of her hands over her 'chocolate covered breasts' and scooped up as much of the pudding as she could.
And before he'd even had a chance to stop laughing, she smashed the dessert into his open laughing mouth and smeared it down his damned, expensive jacket, making sure she used enough force to grind the food mess into the fibers.
"There! I'd like to meet the dry cleaner who can get that out!" she yelled at him.
Stunned, Bill looked down at his ruined suit. "This was an Armani," he seethed at her.
"Well, now it's garbage," she retorted.
His angry eyes locked onto hers—as hers did to his. They were both furious, both shocked at what had happened—and they were both breathing heavily.
Suddenly, in an instant, the charged air in the room changed. The anger disappeared and was replaced by a sexual energy that was almost electrical in nature. Christina felt a tangible pull on her lips emanating from his lips, as if a string were attached and someone was pulling them together.
Bill felt it too.
Who kissed who first—neither of them knew. But in a flash, both of their lips had locked onto the other's and they were wildly, passionately kissing each other, tongues darting in and out, each tasting a mixture of mashed potatoes, cream of corn, dark chocolate pudding—and sex. It was dirty. It was messy. It was fun—just like their relationship together had been all along.
Christina's 'chocolate covered' breasts caked the front of Bill's jacket with pudding as she plastered her body to his and their hands slipped in the gooey mess as they tried to touch each other. They laughed in between kisses as neither could get a firm grip.
Christina's sticky hands ran up to his shoulders and pushed his jacket off of his body. It fell to the floor in a heap.
Her hands then frantically yanked his shirt out of his pants and quickly started to unbutton it. Exposing his chest, her hands greedily ran up and down his naked skin, leaving streaks of pudding everywhere. Still wildly kissing him, she moaned into his mouth at the intense pleasure it gave her to touch him.
His hands had slipped her spaghetti straps down her arms and the top part of her dress fell to her waist exposing her pudding-caked breasts to his touch. His hands massaged and kneaded, taking their fill, before finding her nipples. He began to roll them between his thumb and index finger as if he were winding a watch—and Christina began to moan again, this time like an animal in heat. What he was doing to her was making her crazy as shards of exquisite pleasure ran down from her breasts to her privates.
Here they were, making love in the dining room where anyone could walk in at anytime, where the staff might overhear their moans through the doors—and she didn't give a damn and neither did he.
Too far gone, their lips separated and Christina pulled Bill to the floor. She landed on her back and he, on top of her—and their food-streaked, half naked bodies smeared pudding and creamed corn and mashed potatoes onto William's antique Aubusson rug.
Neither cared about that either.
For a brief second their eyes locked into each other as their breathing continued to keep pace with their rapid heartbeats. His eyes were silently asking her for permission to continue and with another low moan from her, she grabbed both sides of his face and pulled him again to her lips, eating and tasting him as much as she could.
He grunted with satisfaction then and returned wild kiss for wild kiss. She tasted so good to him—and he was on fire for her.
Suddenly, he made an odd sound deep in his throat and pulled away. He stared hard into her wild eyes.
"Christina… I can't stop…" he gasped, in between his heavy breathing.
She stared back at him, her breasts rising and falling as her breathing matched his. "I don't want you to," she whispered.
Bill briefly closed his eyes and shook his head from side to side. "No… you don't understand. God help me… I don't have a rubber."
Christina grabbed both sides of his face with her hands and gazed into his hot, fevered eyes. "God help me too, because I don't care," she whispered back.
It was crazy, it was insane and it was irresponsible. They were both adults and they should have known better but the time for 'should haves' and 'could haves' had long past—and they were both at the point of no return.
He hesitated then—and Christina looked into his face and saw he was trying to get control back for the both of them.
But she wasn't having any of that. She wanted him now and she was going to have him now—and damn the consequences.
Christina opened her legs to him, nestling his hard erection, still concealed in his pants, more deeply into her pantied crotch and she started to kiss him again with frenzied abandon. With a low moan of surrender, Bill began to kiss her back. The moment had passed as had all sensibility—and they were both lost to their passions again.
Bill's lips left hers and his tongue began to lick its way down her neck, to her chest, to her breasts. Tasting pudding and skin, he took one nipple in his mouth and stroked it back and forth with his slippery tongue before moving on to the other one. Christina began to mew like a little kitty cat, a sound she'd never heard come out of her before. She was so hot for him and she couldn't help herself.
At the same time as he was laving her breast, his hands had hiked her dress up to her waist, exposing her black panties. As he groped for them, his hand came into contact with the delicate lace covering her V and he palmed her there for a few seconds before grabbing the thin mat
erial and tugging. The fragile, black lace ripped in his fingers and he yanked them off and threw them to the side.
His fingers came back to her and he began to stroke her back and forth. She was wet and it was all for him. A thrill shot through him that turned him on even more—if that was at all possible.
Christina loved every hot thing he was doing to her as she arched her back to his hand. He was giving her so much pleasure that she could barely stand it. She wanted him inside of her—and she was going to have him.
Crazed with desire, she reached for his belt buckle and undid it. Then, her shaking hands found his zipper and unzipped him. She snaked inside his pants and freed his hard erection. Her hand wrapped itself around him and she began to stroke him firmly.
At the touch of her soft, delicate hands on his fullness, Bill groaned and his lips left her nipples and came back up to her swollen lips—sucking, and biting, and tugging, and licking, and kissing. They were like two animals mating—no reason, no logic, all instinct.
Then she felt his hand remove her hand from him and in an instant, he'd plunged into her—deep and swift and hard. She cried out at the exquisite delicious sensations that shot up into her body as she felt the walls of her body wrap themselves around him.
He began to move inside her and she closed her legs around him and arched her back again. She rode him as hard as he was riding her, matching each of his strong strokes with her own—their breathing harsh, their bodies damp with sweat.
It was fast.
It was furious.
And it was all on the dining room rug.
Christina came first. She cried out as she felt her release and the walls of her innermost place began to contract and milk him. He felt her spasms and with one last thrust, he buried himself deep within her, as deep as he could get before climaxing himself. It was primal, it was possessive—but he just desperately needed to be as deep within her as he could be before he came. She was his—and he was branding her.
With a low moan of satisfaction, he released and experienced a wave of intense pleasure as he emptied himself into her.
As each of their climaxes subsided, their breathing began to slow down and their bodies now satiated with sex, began to calm down too. His eyes focused on her face—as hers were on his—and he watched her reaction intently as he slowly eased himself out of her. She almost winced with the pain of having him leave her.
Suddenly, Bill buried his face down into the hollow between her shoulder and jaw, and muffled words into her hair that she could barely make out—but she did.
"God, Christina… I'm sorry," he whispered hoarsely.
Christina was taken aback. "Sorry? Sorry for what?"
Suddenly, she was worried. Did he regret having made love to her? Was he disappointed with her? Did he not love her after all? Her arms instinctively wrapped themselves around his back and held him tight. She didn't want to let go.
His face came up then and he lovingly gazed into her eyes. His eyes were tortured with regret—but not the regret she thought.
"I'm sorry for this. For taking you like this… here… on the floor… dirty with all this food on us. This was our first time… and you deserve better."
Relief washed over Christina. So that's what was bothering him. She smiled at him then. "You let me be the judge of that. You don't hear me complaining, do you?"
He gave her a half laugh at that. "No, but I'm not an inexperienced teenager and that's exactly how I acted."
"Well, it takes two to tango and I did my fair share of dancing tonight too."
He laughed at her wise quip, then his eyes turned serious again. "And… I'm sorry… that I didn't use a rubber." He let out a gasp. "God… am I ever sorry about that." He shook his head at his own unbelievable stupidity. "That's never happened to me before."
Christina smirked. "I'm glad to hear it," she smartly announced and he smiled at that. She then turned serious herself. "It was stupid on both of our parts but it's done now… and we'll just move forward from here."
She grabbed his face then with both hands, making sure she had his full attention and stared deeply into his eyes.
"You do know that I love you, don't you? And it's not your money, or this damned monstrosity of a house or your posh Havenwood name. I… love… you… for you… and only for you. Tell me you believe me?"
He paused for a second, as he returned her gaze. "I believe you."
Christina breathed a sigh of relief. Then her lips broke into a wide smile as she took in their appearance. He was still on top of her, unzipped and exposed; and she was half naked with her little black dress twisted around her waist, with her breasts and lower half also exposed.
"Do you think William will be coming back in here for his tea anytime soon?" she cracked.
He burst out laughing at the thought of that. "Oh Christina, no woman has ever made me laugh like you do."
"Are you saying I'm your woman?"
He stopped laughing then and grew serious. "No; I'm saying you're my wife." He then added with a smile, "Or you very soon will be."
A surge of happiness shot through Christina at the thought of being his wife. Never in a million, billion, trillion years would she ever have imagined herself married to the man she had hated most in the world only a few months back—not to mention have imagined what they'd just done together. Life could be funny like that. You think you have it all figured out and then just the opposite happens—and you love it!
"What do you say we get up, slink out of here before somebody catches us, go upstairs and take a shower together?" she slyly offered, then added. "Are you…up… for it?"
Bill caught on to her double meaning. "Not yet, but gimme a little time to recuperate; you're a handful, you know." He wickedly winked at her and Christina laughed.
Chapter 57
After they had straightened their clothing while in the dining room, Bill and Christina, hand-in-hand, had carefully crept up the stairs to avoid being spotted. When they'd reached the upstairs landing and saw that the coast was clear, they had run down the long hallway into Bill's bedroom.
Laughing like a couple of kids that had gotten away with doing something naughty, they quickly shut the door behind them. They had made it and no one had seen their disheveled, food-caked, debauched appearance.
Safe, in their own private cocoon, Bill pulled Christina into his arms and began to kiss her again with abandon. Entwining her arms around his neck, Christina responded in kind, brushing her own soft lips over his hungry, greedy ones, slipping away into that mindless pleasure that only he seemed to be able to give her. She just couldn't get enough of him.
Bill's hands traveled from her luscious breasts, down to her waist, to her back and down to her derriere. Cupping both cheeks, he squeezed them and tightly pressed her pliant body against his crotch. He could feel himself getting hard again, and if he didn't put a stop to this now, he was going to repeat his schoolboy, sex-starved performance from downstairs only this time it would be on his bedroom floor.
Breathing heavily, Bill reluctantly dragged his lips off of hers. "God, Christina…" he rasped, "I want you again and again and again."
"And you can have me, again and again and again," she purred before reaching for him, ready to pull him back to her lips.
He stopped her. "No, I want to do it right this time."
Confusion registered in Christina's eyes. What was he talking about? She saw him glance over her head to the bed. Suddenly, she realized that he was still regretting their amateurish performance in the dining room earlier.
She smiled, "My darling, I can assure you, the job was done right last time."
He laughed at that, "Thank you for that; but I think it's about time I start putting into practice some of those… farming credits… I earned back in college, don't you? After all, I have a reputation to live up to."
Bluntly put, he wanted to give her the best lay she'd ever had and he knew he could do it if he could just control his lust a little more
where she was concerned and take things a bit slower—but he was finding that almost impossible to do.
Christina studied his pinched expression. She, suddenly, realized he was desperately trying to rein in his ardor, wanting to prove himself to her. That was so sweet of him!
But he didn't have to do that. She wanted him so badly again that the bedroom floor was just fine by her. But, it seemed to be important to him and he was asking for her help in a roundabout way—so she'd help him.
She gave him a wicked smile, "Okay, Farmer Bill, let's play a little game." She put a foot of space between them as she pulled away. "And these are the rules. Why don't we go take that shower together? You'll wash my body. I'll wash yours. But no kissing and no touching any private parts. We'll save all that for later. How does that sound?"
Bill gave her a half smile. "I like your little games."
"Good because I have lots of them."
Pleased with her clever idea, Christina took him by the hand and led him to the bathroom.
* * *
The hot shower spray water was deliciously cascading over both of their bodies washing away the remains of their food fight earlier. With a soapy sponge in hand, Bill began to slowly go over every angle and curve of Christina's body except for her breasts and privates. He studied every twist and turn as if he was a sculptor lovingly crafting a piece of marble that he was working on. Christina felt every sensuous stroke and she'd never felt more alive in her life.
Leisurely, he turned her around and began to soap her back, squeezing the water-filled sponge and letting the droplets trickle down the sexy curve of her derriere. Christina briefly closed her eyes, her heart was racing, her breathing was faster and she desperately wanted him again—now. But she'd told him they were going to take things slow. It was what he wanted—and she'd give him what he wanted.
With her back to him, she felt his lips lightly kiss her shoulder. His hand holding the sponge came around her from behind.
"Your turn," he whispered in her ear.
Christina took the sponge from his hand and slowly turned around. They were facing each other now and it was her turn to study every angle and curve of his naked male body.
