“I might be.” I shifted in my seat and traced a line through the condensation on my glass. Unwilling to let him see that my battle with commitment and settling down was a hard one.
The smell of tomato and cheese wafted ahead of Sophie and gave me something else to concentrate on.
“Dig in.” She pulled up a footstool in front of us for the food. “She’s got EHT.” She grinned and watched Dane try and figure it out. “Ex-Husband Tension.”
He paused mid-bite of his pizza and looked at me, raising an eyebrow which gave him even more of a ‘come and get me’ look. They were both looking at me. “You’re married?”
“She was, I said ex.” Sophie spoke through her mouthful of pizza. “He was a shit.”
“I’m fine.”
“She’s not.” Sophie swiveled round so that her feet were in his lap, her head back on the cushion.
I slipped down onto the floor, away from the warmth of his thigh and tried to concentrate on the food. It was uncomfortable watching Sophie wriggle her toes and the outline of his erection firming up by the second, and I didn’t know whether I was a gooseberry or part of the attraction.
The flames licked in the fireplace and I concentrated on the changing colors, the way they spiraled round trying to escape and part of me wished I could. Except I lived here.
“Well, I would be fine, if you’d stop bringing it up.” Somehow if James had just been cheating on me, in a normal straightforward way, I might have been able to get my head round it a bit better. I’d found the pictures on his phone, pictures of a man sucking his cock and I knew it was him. Not that I recognized the actual cock because that was stuck down someone’s throat, God knows what kind of relaxation technique it took to swallow that much, but it was the tattoo, that familiar tattoo on his hip. The tattoo that I had touched and licked and kissed as I’d made my way down. The tattoo I’d made love to. And for some strange reason I couldn’t fathom, it was seeing the bloody tattoo that made my stomach churn.
He didn’t try and deny anything, or explain. He just shrugged and said what we had wasn’t enough, would never be enough. He liked men, women, people to whip him, scare him, people to dominate him and I just wasn’t the type. And so unless I was happy to share…
I had thought that all I wanted was a strong man to look after me, but so it seemed did James. Or, in his case from the pictures I’d seen, a strong man and a strong woman. Or a whole fucking team of them.
There were no kids, not even a dog to fight over. Divorce was a hell of a lot quicker and less complicated than getting married. A lot less planning and no worries about which relatives to invite.
“I am fine. I’ve moved on.”
“She needs a good, no strings attached shag.”
“Do you mind, she is here and she doesn’t.” I had a horrible suspicion I did though. But if the whole James, car crash of a marriage thing had taught me anything it was that my mother was probably right. She led her life in what looked to me like an emotional vacuum, no hugs or kisses, just work. She skipped the emotional crap and I was starting to realize she had a point. I’d wasted far too much of my life waiting for a knight on a charger to rescue me. But I was a bit worried that I fancied Dane just a teeny weeny bit too much. Which was why, however much I wanted to run my fingers over his rippled six pack, I’d been doing my best to keep my hands to myself.
He twisted a lock of my hair round his finger, the gentle tug on my scalp sending a shiver right through my body. Then the warmth of his palm was on my head stroking down, gathering my hair, wrapping it round his hand and the tumbling in my stomach shot right down between my thighs and every last thought of James and his tattoo dissolved.
“So.” He slid down beside me on the floor, and his fingers massaged the back of my neck in a way that made my heart beat that bit louder and faster in my ears. “Is that a no shags in general rule or—” I gasped as his other hand rested on my barely covered thigh, his fingers squeezing with just the slightest pressure on skin that was suddenly hyper-sensitive, enough to send a rush of dampness into my knickers “—is it the no strings bit you object to, or the good bit?” His fingers slid that little bit higher up my inner thigh and all I wanted to do was squirm down so that they’d cover the remaining few inches.
“I, er I…” Well, I couldn’t speak. I felt rather than saw Sophie slide further along the sofa, caught a glimpse of her hair as she leaned forward and unbuttoned the top of Dane’s shirt so that she could slip her hand in. He was so close to me I could feel his breath against my neck, my ear.
“Just how close are you and Sophie?” His soft lips skated lightly down my neck. All I’d ever talked about with Dane was horses. Shoeing horses, riding horses, feeding horses. And I’d always had my bum wrapped very securely in jodhpurs and now his fingers were working their way up to my knickers and his mouth was sending shivers down my neck. Me and Sophie, close? My pussy clenched at the thought, I was too turned on to be shocked. Even though I was sure you’d call me vanilla with a capital V.
There was a rosy glow spreading across my chest and it had nothing to do with the outside temperature, or the embarrassment I was sure I should be feeling. I guess it was a normal male reaction, given the circumstances, for Dane to be thinking about me and Soph, but it confused the hell out of me as my body and brain fought a battle between lust and common sense.
He’d stopped maddeningly short of the top of my thighs but his fingers were still working and it was turning me on more than I thought possible, and winding me up into the kind of internal frenzy that normally needed ten minutes of foreplay.
“Touch me.” I swallowed, ran my tongue over dry lips. “Please.”
Clever fingers rubbed softly over my covered pussy and I couldn’t stop the quivering sigh as my cunt clenched in anticipation. “I’d say you two make a good team—” his voice was as soft as when he was settling a spooky horse, “—and I’d say she knows exactly what you need.”
“Ye…sss.” My soft long drawn out word had nothing to do with Sophie or who was right, but everything to do with the gentle pressure on my seam, the rub that was getting deeper with each stroke, pressing my damp knickers between my slick pussy lips. I looked up at him, at that familiar shock of dark hair and those intent eyes and he paused just long enough for me to see how much he wanted me before his mouth came down to meet mine.
He smelled of pizza, of sweet tomato and tangy cheese, of herbs and he smelled of sex, a weird mix of food and lust that made my lips part and the tip of my tongue reach out to meet his.
“I do fancy you, Miss Holly.” He sighed the words into my mouth, our breath mingling and then his firm lips teased my mouth open that bit wider and he sucked my tongue into his mouth, and every last bit of careful reserve abandoned me.
I wanted him, I wanted him now, he smelled of lust and he tasted of lust, and it was as clear and as much of a turn on as having his cock in my mouth, and it was releasing every bit of pent up craving as my fingers wound deep into that thick soft hair. I pulled back a little, drew an uneven breath, and then nibbled his bottom lip, drawing it into my mouth wanting to taste him, sucking on the soft flesh until he groaned and shut his eyes. Gradually I ran my tongue up his jaw line, tasting salt, smelling the bitter tang of beer. The lobe of his ear was soft under my lips and as I nipped at the fleshy skin he grunted, and when I circled with my damp tongue over the plump flesh he drew a sharp breath that resounded deep down in my belly.
“Hell, woman I’m going to come right now if you don’t stop that.” I don’t know whether the buttons on my tunic pinged off because he tugged, or because my body was fit for bursting, but as his hard lips bruised mine and his firm tongue forced a way deep inside my mouth, a brief rush of cool air chilled my skin. I gasped as his kisses and bites burned a hot damp trail down my neck and as he sucked at the sweet spot where my neck joins my shoulder I held my breath, my stomach trembling with anticipation.
Those big capable hands encircled my waist and he pulled m
e down flat on the floor, taking control in a way that took me so close to the edge I could feel my clit yelling out in desperation to be touched. And he knew, and he chuckled.
I could smell my own scent on his hand as he cradled my breast, then his head came down and he took my sensitized nipple in his teeth.
“Oh fuck.” I don’t normally swear much but that hard touch, just when I expected a damp tongue or the warm suck of his mouth just sent a tremor all the way through me and I grabbed out at his head, clutching his hair, not sure whether I was urging him on or pulling him away. He blew a waft of air over my damp nipple.
“Stop being bossy, woman.” He pulled both my arms above my head, pinned my wrists down with one large hand and I should have felt vulnerable but I didn’t. I was so bloody turned on, so on the brink as he slowly ran the tip of his finger down between my breasts, down over my stomach until I whimpered, a whimper that turned to a moan as he found the throbbing swollen nub of my clit. The pressure of his touch took me one step nearer to orgasm, and when he rubbed a small circle my hips bucked and the tremors started.
I bucked again and yelped as soft cool fingertips traced their delicate way over my inner thigh, and it had to be Sophie. I wanted to object, pull away, but I couldn’t, the fluttering tremors were building to waves deep inside me and I wanted the touch, needed it. It was sweetness and light, so gossamer light against my skin, tracing circles that matched the smaller ones his firm thumb was pressing into my clit. He tugged at my nipple with teeth that were hard yet tender, started to suckle, pulling me in and my whole body was rocking as he sent spears of want right through my core until I felt like every bit of me was pulsing, wanting. Heat flamed as his hand rested across my stomach, as the tips of his fingers kneaded until I moaned. I heard the sound of a zip, and his groan, a guttural sound vibrating against my breast and although I could still feel her cool hand against my skin, I knew her other one was on his cock.
“Shit, Sophie.” His hand briefly brushed over hers on my thigh and then his fingers were under the soaking crotch of my knickers, his thumb firm against my throbbing clit as he pressed two fingers deep into my wet pussy. The moment he did it, a tremble deep down kicked off and I heard myself wail.
“Shh.” His mouth was on my mound, tugging and pulling at the soft skin in time with his hand and I knew that one small orgasm wasn’t enough for him. He was deep inside me, curling his fingers so that they teased my G-spot and the heat was swirling, that liquid fire of heat that was a peak of pleasure and pain that was always just out of reach. “Let go, Holly, let go for me.” His voice was rough, edged with his own pleasure and his breathing was ragged and how he kept going as Sophie sucked him I didn’t know or really care.
His tongue flicked at my throbbing clit, a hard sure pressure that hit a spot I didn’t know I had and I felt the gasp, a gasp that didn’t just come from my mouth but from my whole body and then he swore. A barely audible roar that seemed to shake through him and I knew he was coming. He was still sucking my clit, pulling in a way that was almost pain, his fingers tattooing inside me and I had no choice. I had to let go and my pussy was opening up in a slow gentle throb that I’d never felt before and he was rubbing more and more gently inside me, sliding his fingers in and out, licking my clit as though he was never going to stop.
I opened my eyes and Sophie was the first thing I saw, leaning over me, licking her lips like the proverbial cat that got the cream. Which I assume she had.
“Want another beer?”
“Idiot.” Dane levered himself up on one elbow and kissed the tip of her nose, then he slowly drew his fingers from their sticky spot and bent to kiss me on the lips.
Chapter Three
A man in a pinny isn’t necessarily a turn on. A naked man, with his back turned to you and a perfectly toned ass is. Just saying. It was the smell of coffee and bacon that had got me out of bed. Coffee is one of the few things I count as essential in life, and the smell of bacon crisping first thing in the morning, well, I wouldn’t say no.
“Sleep well?” He turned just enough to flash a smile at me, but it wasn’t the white teeth that grabbed my attention, it was his chin darkened with stubble. I was staring, I must stop staring.
“Yeah.” The last time I’d got up to find a man in the kitchen was a long time ago. James understood a loaf of bread and a lump of cheese, which he’d cut into precision slices, but that was about the limit of his interest. And no way would he venture out of the bedroom dressed in, well nothing. What was I supposed to do now?
“Grab a stool, it’s nearly ready.”
He’d read my mind. Stated the obvious, but the obvious was good. Normal.
“Did you sleep?” I had told myself I wasn’t going to ask, in case I didn’t like the answer, but I couldn’t help it. I never was very good at hiding what was on my mind.
“Not really, that sofa is about a foot too short.” Ah, so that answered that. He pushed a mug of coffee across the breakfast bar. “Is sleepyhead Sophie awake yet?”
“Not heard any noises from the spare room yet.” I could have been mistaken but I could swear his face relaxed a bit. So he’d got questions too. But was he worried that he’d been missing out on a girlie fest, or was this sharing thing strange for him too? “She doesn’t really like mornings.”
“Nope, bit of a night owl.” He touched the back of my hand with the tip of his finger and I glanced up straight into serious eyes. “From what I remember.”
“We’re—” the coffee was good, hot but nice and strong so that I got a hit of caffeine almost before the liquid reached my throat. “—skating round things a bit aren’t we?” There, I just can’t leave something alone until I know. He leaned in a bit closer so that I could smell that fresh morning shower smell and kissed me so gently on the lips that my heart gave a funny flip.
“Eat breakfast then we’ll stop skating.” I half wanted to say stop, talk, I need to know what we’re doing before the moment went, but he was putting eggs and bacon on plates and it smelled so good my stomach started to do a jungle rumble. He put a plate in front of me, soft bread bap topped with crispy bacon and a perfect fried egg.
“Salt?”
“Sure.” Fingers too big for the salt bowl picked up a few grains and sprinkled it over. Too big, but oh so dexterous. I ignored the way my throat was drying at the thought. “I’ve not had an egg and bacon butty for years.” A dribble of egg yolk burst out and headed down my chin.
“I can see why.” He was laughing but his eyes were intent.
I stuck my tongue out to lick it off, met his finger as he reached out and for a moment we both froze. Then I couldn’t help it, I sucked his finger very slowly, very deliberately with my eggy sticky lips. Okay, I’d told myself I wasn’t getting involved with anyone, but this was different, wasn’t it? This was casual, no strings, no expectations and we’d already stepped past the friends’ mark.
“That might not be a good thing to do, Holly.” His voice had that rough edge to it that I loved, a sandpaper sound that set my nerves on edge. I let my tongue circle the tip of his digit and kept on looking right into those deep grey eyes and his throat rippled as he swallowed. His other hand came up, cradled my neck, his thumb tracing up from the base all the way up to my chin and the hairs at the back of my neck prickled to full-on alert.
“Strange thing for a half-naked man to say.”
He laughed and pulled away, leaving a cold gap where he’d been. “There’s a difference between half-naked and what I’d like to do to you on this breakfast bar right now.”
“But you’re not going to?”
“Not right now, no.” The no was frustrating, the not right now even more so. Because maybe it meant later. Oh, God I wanted to ask him if last night counted as a date, seeing as he was a one date man. But I didn’t.
He took a long gulp of his coffee, and a bite that took in nearly half of his bacon sandwich.
“You have got such a big mouth.”
He chewed slowly a
nd raised an eyebrow which told me it wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. “You have such a kissable mouth.” He wiped his own with the back of his hand and I resisted the urge to reach out and trail my finger tips over his stubble. “But I suppose I should go and shoe horses.”
I’d forgotten Christmas hadn’t started for everyone. Working for Grove and Grove had certain benefits, and one of them was a Christmas shut down. One whole week away from the temperamental computers and their even more fractious operators. For Dane it was a different story, horses had an annoying habit of throwing shoes just when you wanted to hack out and the Christmas holidays was a popular time to saddle up and escape the relatives for a few hours.
“You got a full diary?”
“Busy today but I’m closing off at lunchtime tomorrow, Christmas Eve is having a pint and feet up time, for me not the horses.” He stretched up lazily and I watched transfixed as his shoulder muscles flexed.
“Going anywhere for Christmas?” It suddenly dawned on me that after spending hours chatting to him on the yard I still knew absolutely zilch about him on a personal level, apart from the mention of long tall Sal from Sophie yesterday. And the fact that he lived at his forge.
“I think he should come here.” I literally jumped at the words in my ear, which shows just how much I’d been concentrating on ogling the body in front of me. “Ah, go on, don’t give me that look.” She marched over and wrapped her arms round his waist gazing up like a lost puppy.
Good Enough to Share (Good Enough, Book 1 - Christmas) Page 3
