He’d already had her nerve endings humming but now they were buzzing like a swarm of bees. “A-and what exactly do you want to do?”
He tugged her closer. Moved in so his mouth was next to her ear.
“I want to find the nearest flat surface and push you against it. Shove your dress up over your hips so I can get between the thighs I know are silkier than this designer outfit that I’m bound to ruin once I get my hands on you.”
Virginia swallowed. Her throat constricted with the flash of heat exploding through her. He had a way with words. With telling her exactly what he wanted do to her.
The kicker was he always followed through.
At some point this evening Virginia would find herself in the position Carter just described and she’d love every second of it.
Carter watched the flush rise up Ginny’s neck and fill her cheeks. He wanted to lower his mouth to hers and thrust his tongue between her lips.
He glanced around the elaborately decorated room and wondered if there was anywhere he could take her to deliver on his promise.
And it was a promise. One he’d never break.
For months he’d teased them both with the tantalising verbal descriptions of all the wicked things he planned to do to Ginny—with Ginny. Of course there were times when he had to use every ounce of self-control he had not to follow through on his words the second they were out of his mouth.
Like now.
The dress—if you could call it a dress. Carter thought it was a torture devise designed to drive him out of his mind—his cock out of his pants. It skimmed her breasts, her waist, her hips then flowed like a cool blue waterfall down her legs to pool around her feet.
He couldn’t wait to peel her out of it.
Really couldn’t wait.
“Do you absolutely have to stay now you’ve made an appearance?” he asked.
Ginny nodded but he could see in her eyes that she wanted to say no. He’d just have to turn up the heat until she couldn’t wait another second—couldn’t function for the need clawing through her.
It seemed only fair. His insides were a shredded bloody mess from the razor sharp slash of lust she inspired. He moved his hand lower, his fingers skimming the sweet curve of her arse. She trembled against him and he couldn’t help sweeping his hand over her again.
She sucked in a breath. “Carter.”
He smiled, pressed his lips to her temple. “Virginia.”
“You have to stop that.”
Carter gave her taut flesh a gentle squeeze. “This?”
“No. Yes. No.”
“No? Yes? No? Which is it?” He moved them along the floor, making his way to the far side and the promising looking dark hallway.
“Why are you calling me Virginia?” She tried to pull from his embrace so he held her tighter. “Carter?”
“It’s your name.” He wasn’t sure what she was getting at, but he didn’t like the quiver in her voice. It didn’t sound like his confident Ginny.
“But you don’t call me that. You’ve never called me that.”
Ah, now he understood. “I didn’t think you’d want me to call you Ginny here.”
This time when she pulled away she did it so quickly he couldn’t stop her. “Why?”
Carter looked around them. Looked at the men and women wearing clothes that cost more than his weekly profits and wondered how Ginny didn’t get it. “Because here you’re Virginia.”
She was shaking her head. “But this isn’t who I am with you.”
“I know that.”
Ginny frowned. “But I don’t want to be this Virginia with you.”
Carter tugged her closer again. This was a huge moment. He could feel it. And for the life of him he wouldn’t fuck this up. “I’ll take you any way you come. Ginny. Virginia. Princess. I love them all because I see what’s beneath each one of them. I see everything, Ginny, and nothing about you, not this perfect woman in my arms or the fake smile she puts on her face, makes me love you any less.”
“But—”
He pressed his fingers to her lips. “No. There’s nothing you can say that will change the way I feel either.”
“I don’t—”
“C’mon.” Carter released her and grabbed her hand. “Let’s go somewhere less noisy. More private.”
Without a clue where he was going, Carter tugged Ginny behind him into the dark passage he’d spotted earlier. Having worked in a five star hotel before buying his own bar, he recognised the hallway as a service way. He led her past the kitchen and deeper into the darkness.
“Carter?”
“Hang on. Almost there.” He grabbed the handle on a storage room door. It turned so he pushed it open and stepped inside.
“Carter?”
“Shh.” He pulled her in with him and closed the door. The room was pitch black leaving his eyes useless, but Carter was good with his hands—really good—and he had no trouble at all feeling his way down Ginny’s body.
“Carter?”
“Ginny.” He swept his hands over her hips and bunched the silky fabric of her dress in his fists. “I need you to do something for me.” His fingertips brushed bare skin.
“W-what?”
“I need you to be quiet. Really, really quiet.”
“But—”
He silenced her with his mouth. Thrusting his tongue between her lips he took the kiss deep. All the while he continued to lift the hem of her dress.
Retreating, he nipped at her lips before telling her exactly what. “I’m going to lift your dress, and you’re going to hold it in place so I can get to work on removing your undies. Because I gotta tell you, Princess, they have to go. There’s no way I can fuck you against that door with them on.”
“Oh God.” Her breath rushed over his face. “We can’t.”
Carter got his hand between her legs and stroked his fingers over the wet crotch of her undies. “Yeah, we can. You can’t deny you want to. The evidence is right here.” He slid his fingers over her once more.
She shuddered. “Carter. Please.”
“I aim to please you every day for the rest of my life but right now I need you to be quiet while I do it. As much as I love to make you scream I don’t want to get caught with our pants down.”
“It won’t matter. Everyone will know what we’ve been doing.” She stiffened against him—tried to pull away.
He’d let her go if that was what she really wanted. “Say the word and we’re out of here.”
Ginny froze in her effort to pull free.
“We’ll go back to the party. It’s your call. Always.”
He heard her suck in a breath. Felt her breasts press against him. “I’ll have to fix my hair when we’re done.”
Carter grinned. “Pull your dress up around your waist.” He went to work on the button and fly on his pants.
“I’m wearing a G-string. I could just move it to the side.”
Ginny’s suggestion had Carter’s balls pulling tight and heat filling his groin. “Damn. That’s the sexiest idea I’ve ever heard.”
“You inspire me.”
He pushed his pants down his thighs. “Nope. You’ve got that backwards.” Carter reached for her. His eyes had adjusted and while it was still dark, he could make out the smile on Ginny’s lips. “We inspire each other.”
Carter pressed against her only to have his shirt caught between them. “Shit. This isn’t going to be as easy as I thought.” He tried to gather as much of the fabric as he could in one hand.
“Nothing worth having is ever easy,” Ginny whispered. “Here, let me help.”
She reached behind him and whatever she did it made his shirt ride up his stomach and stay. Then her hands were in front—wrapped around him—squeezing and stroking. “Fuck.”
“Mmm…You’re so hard.” Her thumb swept over the tip. “And wet.”
“I’m gonna get wetter if you keep that up,” he growled. Jesus. She would have him coming in her hand in seconds at thi
s rate. “Enough. I want inside you.”
Carter wasn’t sure how they managed it, not with all their clothes still on, but he found himself with an armful of Ginny, her hot wet cunt rubbing against his cock.
“Put it in, Princess.” He rocked his hips. “I need to feel you around me.”
With a skill they’d learned over months of sex in the most inconvenient places, Ginny rose up and slipped a hand between them to position his cock before slowly lowering down his length.
“Yes.” Ginny’s hiss echoed in the room.
He shuffled forward until her back was pressed against the door. “Hold on.”
Flexing his hips, Carter withdrew from her tight cunt and drove back in again. He did it hard. He did it fast. And within a few strokes they were panting for breath and sweat coated his brow.
“Harder,” Ginny demanded.
Carter let go of one hip and put his hand over her mouth. “Shh. Anyone walking passed will hear.”
“Don’t care.” She rocked against him, her words muffled by his palm. “I need more.”
“Okay. But no sound.”
She nodded. And Carter did as asked.
He drove her into the door at her back. The handle rattled, the timber creaked and still he pounded into her as though his life depended on it.
There’d be no going back to the party. Not after he’d finished fucking their brains out. It didn’t matter how many times he got inside her each one felt like the first. The best. His brain had been scrambled from that first night in his office and he couldn’t say he was sorry.
Nothing about his relationship with Ginny made him sorry. Except the time they spent apart. He was so done with living separately. So done with waiting for her to catch up but he’d promised not to push, and he’d keep his word even if it killed him.
“I can’t get enough of you. Of being inside you.” He panted against Ginny’s throat.
“Me either.” Her words were jagged with her choppy breath. “Move in with me.”
Carter froze mid stroke. His balls screamed for him to keep going but every muscle had seized. He lifted his head and cursed the dark room. “What did you say?”
“Move in with me.”
“In your apartment?”
“No.”
“Then—”
“I want to buy a house together.”
He sucked in a breath. “You wanted to wait…” Would he finally get his ring on her finger? Hers on his?
“I’m ready, Carter.”
“Are you sure? You know what I want to happen before we move in together.” She knew because he’d spent every day since that afternoon in her apartment asking her to marry him.
“I want that too. I want it all.”
“All?”
“I want to stop taking the pill.”
His heart stopped. Kicked back in double time. “I…yes. Jesus fucking Christ yes!” He slammed his mouth on hers.
He fucked into her mouth with his tongue. Bucked his hips and fucked her with his cock. Pressing her harder into the door, Carter let go on her hips and trailed his hands up her sides until he reached her breasts. Using thumbs and forefingers, he tweaked her nipples through her dress just the way she liked and had her screaming in his mouth in minutes.
Her orgasm drew out his and he pumped everything he had into her. Gave her more than just his seed. He gave himself over, heart and soul, and he knew she’d given him the same.
“There’s no way we can go back to the party.”
Ginny turned from the mirror to face Carter. “Why not?”
“Well for one, you’re hair is down now and it was up before.” He frowned.
“It still looks fine.”
“Two. That dress is all crumpled. Any idiot would know why.”
She smiled. “Are you ashamed of people thinking we snuck off to have sex?”
His gaze met hers. “Ashamed? Of being with you? Fuck no! I want to yell it from the rooftops that Virginia May Wexworth is going to be my wife.”
Virginia leaned over and kissed him. “Then let’s go start the rumours.”
Carter’s eyebrow almost hit his hairline. “We’re going back in there? Looking like we fucked each other stupid?”
“Definitely.”
“You’re not worried someone will snap a pic? That we’ll end up in the paper?”
She grinned and grabbed his hand, tugging him with her as she left the bathroom. “Nope. In fact I hope they do. It’ll save my mother sending out announcements.”
For the second time in her life Virginia didn’t care what anyone said or thought. All that mattered was being with Carter. Spending the rest of her life with him. Building the family she always dreamed of.
They reached the ballroom and she spun around, planted both hands on his chest and stood on her toes.
“Carter James Boyd, I love you with all my heart and I don’t care who knows it.”
“That’s good because I feel the same way about you.” He smiled. “Now kiss me.”
And with a ballroom full of Australia’s social elite behind her Virginia kissed him in a way guaranteed to get her photograph in the Sunday paper.
EPISODE 2
Lana
CATE ELLINK
For women who love sex.
Acknowledgements
A huge thank you to Kate Cuthbert and Tracey O’Hara for this incredible opportunity. Extra thanks to Tracey for her brainstorming, editing, visiting, and all round generousness.
The other girls working on the “housewives” give much support and camaraderie.
Thank you, you’re awesome! Thank you to Ainslie Paton who always reads with a keen eye and a sharp mind, and to Steph who keeps me honest.
Thank you to Belinda Holmes, my lovely editor.
Once again Mr E has put up with my insanity.
Lana
“You smell good enough to eat.” Lana Driscoll raised her right eyebrow in her signature move as she whispered to Tom, the young waiter who’d been serving them. His attention had been delicious. Her luscious lips lifted into the killer smile she was known for. She’d bestowed a few on him tonight and they seemed to have had the desired effect, although she could barely remember a time when they hadn’t.
Her show business friends, used to her conquests, were leaving, while she wove a bit of Lana magic on the young man.
“Ms Driscoll, my mum is a huge fan.” She knew he was going to say that. Most of them did. She should have been used to it but it rankled. Another jab about how long she’d been around and she didn’t want to think about that.
She met his eager gaze. “Call me Lana.” Her outstretched hand, along with her husky tone, were invitations to intimacy.
He clasped her ring-laden fingers and she closed her other hand around his, squeezing for a few moments before sliding both hands away. She gave him a tiny pout followed by a miniature smile. She waited until he leaned a little closer and then she pressed her left index finger to his pectoral muscle and dragged it down his chest. Not heavily, not hard, but with enough pressure so he’d feel the slight burn of fingernail and cotton shirt against his flesh. A crisp white cotton shirt that his mother probably washed and ironed. He had the look of a young man still living at home—crisp, clean and crease-free. She planned to leave her mark on not just his shirt.
“Could I sign something for your mother? Would she like that?” Lana’s fame came from years as the star of a popular television soap opera, along with some well-attended theatre and stage shows. She was a household name, especially among women of her own age, which was the other side of forty, not that she announced that. Fame had bought her this lifestyle and she would never forget her fans.
Tom’s eyes widened and his smile bloomed. Lana was almost there.
“You’d do that? Oh, Ms, I mean, Lana, thank you.” His hands trembled as he gave her his order pad and a pen. She clasped his hand and let her fingers linger a little longer than necessary. There was nothing like the venation of a yo
ung male hand, or the sinewy strength, the ridges and bumps, the tight skin. Her fingers made their way unhurried across his hand.
“What’s your mother’s name?”
“Lorraine.” His smile gave her the impression that he was close to his mother, which helped her decide on the message.
“Shall I write, ‘Dear Lorraine, Thank you for raising such a lovely young man in Tom. With love,’?”
Tom scuffed his foot against the wooden floor and shifted uneasily. “I’m sure she’d love whatever you wrote.” He sounded so timid, so pleased, so unsure.
Lana signed with a flourish before handing him back the pad and pen, making sure she held his wrist for an extended period before releasing him and taking a step back.
“And is your name really Tom, or do you only use that for work?” She used a quip to make him relax, help him laugh and feel comfortable with her.
His laugh was not the raspy chuckle of a mature man used to flirty banter, nor the uncomfortable giggle of a schoolboy, but it belonged somewhere along that continuum. “It’s Tom. I’m really Tom.” He shuffled his feet, shifting his weight before running his splayed fingers through his dark curly hair.
She loved nervous boys. Something about their pent-up energy and emotion put everything inside her on high alert.
She moved a step closer and his breath shortened. His hands gripped the order pad tighter, bending it slightly. Stroking her hand over his only increased the curl.
“Are you really Lana?” he stammered. She stared at him, frozen.
She’d used that line for years and very few returned the question. “Lana isn’t the name I was born with, but it’s all I use.” The truth was easier to admit now. In the early years she was embarrassed about her old self, Eleanor, and equally ashamed of her new self, Lana.
Eleanor was long gone—a shell of unpleasant memories. The girl from the dairy farm on the outskirts of Sydney was but a memory. A hard-earned scholarship to a prestigious city high school gave her a toehold onto the other side of life. Nella and Amber, both from money, became her friends and gave her the opportunity to learn from them. God-given talent and sheer luck gave her an acting career. She became Lana. A successful career and the sale of the old dairy farm gave her money and freedom. Now she could work when a part demanded her attention, and otherwise, enjoy her wealth.
Secret Confessions: Sydney Housewives - Extended Edition Page 5
