“Can you open this please?” she asked, passing him the bottle and the corkscrew.
He smiled and took them from her. Now it was her turn to watch him. He wore a pair of old faded jeans and a tight t-shirt. And man, he wore them so very, very well. His shirt was white, contrasting his deep summer tan to perfection, and had his Surf Hunter logo over a black and red stylised surfer catching a wave on the front. She wanted to reach out and feel the play of muscles across his shoulders as he bent over the bottle. Instead she placed the two huge glasses on the marble coffee table in front of him.
Hunter poured a splash in each and handed her one. As she took it, her fingers brushed his and it sent a jolt of need straight to her core. He watched her take a sip, keeping his eyes locked on hers as he did the same.
Usually she didn’t go for the heavy reds. She was more a pinot noir kind of girl. “Good choice,” she said, saluting him with her glass. “Thanks for bringing it over.”
She took another sip. Damn, the wine was good, but nowhere near as heady as the look he gave her over the rim of his glass.
“It’s the least I could do since my tree may have wiped out your pool house,” he said.
Still warm from her bath, the red wine worked to melt away the last of her tension. She sank back into the soft lounge and sighed. “This is just what I needed.”
“Rough day?” he asked, moving his knees wider so his left one almost touched hers.
She laughed. “Rough couple of years.”
He raised his glass. “I read about Julian in the paper this morning.” He looked down at his glass. “I’m sorry.”
“I’m not,” she said. And for the first time she meant it. Virginia was right; letting go was liberating. “It’s been two years now since he left me for her and frankly, she’s welcome to the self-centred prick.”
“Good for you.” Hunter leaned toward her. “He never deserved you, Red.”
It’d been a long time since she’d heard him call her that. He’d christened her with the nickname one evening at a BBQ and she’d always kinda suspected he called her that because he couldn’t remember her name.
“I thought you liked Julian,” she said, trying to laugh off the intense predatory look in his eyes as he leaned forward on the lounge, rolling the wine glass between his palms. A shiver ran up her spine. He scooted a little closer, laying his knee against her leg. The heat of his closeness burned through the Egyptian cotton robe.
Was he doing what she thought he was doing? God, she hoped so.
He took her glass and put it with his on the coffee table. “He’s exactly what you said. A self-centred prick who I often wanted to punch in the face. I only ever put up with him for your sake.”
That took her by surprise. “But you hardly ever spoke to me.”
“Self-preservation,” he said, his face turning serious. “I wasn’t sure I could hide how much I wanted you. The first time I saw you, the sun behind making your hair glow like a red halo, I thought you were an angel.” He leaned in again, moving his hand to her thigh just above her knee and running it slowly up under her robe as he held her gaze.
“So that’s why you call me Red,” she whispered, her voice shaky with her own desire.
He nodded, the picture of intensity. His finger trailed along the tender flesh of her inner thigh. Her breath hitched in her throat in the heated wake of his touch on her skin.
“Just say the word and I’ll stop,” he said, his voice husky with need.
She gave a jerky shake of her head, afraid if she spoke out loud she would break the spell and he would be gone. If this was a dream, she never wanted to wake up.
He moved closer until his lips were mere inches from hers, his warm ragged breath caressing her skin. Then he kissed her. Soft, deep and slow. He tasted of surf, sand and sunshine. She knew instantly he had come straight from the beach. His deep greenish-grey eyes bored into her soul as he held her face in his hands for his kiss. Her toes curled and her mind went blank of everything but Hunter Davis. His smell, his taste, his touch. She needed more.
“Oh, Hunter,” she breathed, burying her hands into his blond surfer shag.
He growled against the skin of her throat, sending shivers of delight along her spine and awakening every molecule in her body.
“You don’t know what it does to me to hear you say my name like that, Red.” The use of his nickname for her made her heartbeat skitter. She fisted his t-shirt—trying to rip it from his body in her desperation to get to his bare skin beneath.
He leaned back to help, sweeping it over his head and exposing his smooth, hairless chest. God, how she wanted to feel that tanned hardness against her.
Her fingers fumbled with the belt on her robe, desperate to feel more of him against her. Finally it came undone and opened in an unspoken invitation for him to take more. His gaze dropped to her naked body, toned thanks to the personal trainer Meagan had recommended. His expression made her exposed areoles pucker into tight nubs, and her sex flooded with desire. She couldn’t believe how wet she was.
Hunter dropped to his knees between her thighs and pushed the robe from her shoulders. “My God, Red,” he whispered. At first he just looked. Then he touched her like she was made of fine glass, until finally he leaned forward and pulled her arse to edge of the sofa so her chest was flush against his.
Darla wrapped her legs around his waist, rubbing her bare core along his hard length behind the zipper seam of his jeans. Oh, it had been so long. So long since a man had touched her. No vibrator could ever compete with the feeling of being held like this. Of being caressed. Of being kissed stupid.
Her head spun as he reclaimed her mouth, her senses overwhelmed with heat and desire. She never wanted to it to stop.
But then he did.
She whimpered as his lips left hers. “Please.”
He gave a wicked grin, gently pushed her shoulders against the back of the lounge and parted her thighs wide, opening up her glistening sex to his gaze. She fought the urge to cover herself.
Oh my God. Surely he’s not going to…
He was.
Hunter lowered his head and flicked his tongue once over her clit, sending a spasm of pure delight back to her aching breasts. She pinched the tight twin peaks to stop the throb, only to echo back more delicious sensations to her core. His tongue rasped over her again. More shock waves rippled through her body. Her womb clenched tight as he took the sensitive bud between his lips.
Julian had never gone down on her, yet he’d still expected her to suck his cock. The thought of Julian was a splash of cold water until she forcibly pushed him out of her mind. Julian was no longer her concern. Who was Julian, when this man, this real man, played her so well?
“Hunter,” she whispered as he laved her sex, probing inside her with his tongue. Blood pounded in her ears as the pressure began to build in her pussy.
“Hunter,” she said a little louder, tossing her head back as she began to climb the peak.
“Hunter,” she screamed as the orgasm ripped through her, shattering her body into a million tiny shards of pure ecstasy.
He kissed her pussy. Kissed her like he would her mouth. Aftershock after pleasurable aftershock rippled through her.
She’d come. But it wasn’t enough. She wanted to taste him, touch him, as much as he had her. But more than anything, she wanted to feel him deep inside her. The deeper the better.
“Fuck me,” she whispered, reaching for the zipper on his jeans. “I really need you to fuck me.”
Never in all her life had she ever said anything so shameless. So dirty. But she was too far gone to care.
His face fell. “I don’t have a condom. I wasn’t actually planning this.”
She sank back into the warm leather, not knowing if it pissed her or pleased her that he wasn’t someone who carried around protection for easy access.
“Wait,” she sat forward, brightening. “I have.”
She leapt from the sofa, completely naked, a
nd dragged him into the kitchen by his hand to where her handbag sat on the counter. He closed in behind her as she fumbled with the zipper of the bag, pressing his hardness against the small of her back as he swept her hair away from her neck and kissed the side of her throat. The other hand traced along her hip, travelling up over her flat stomach, and cupped her breast.
After a few seconds searching she dumped the contents of her handbag onto the counter in frustration. The hopeful box of condoms—still in the chemist’s bag—fell onto the white marble countertop.
Hunter groaned and reached around her. “Let me.”
She tried to turn, but he stopped her by leaning in and pressing her into the counter. “Stay there, just like that,” he whispered against her ear.
Darla’s core clenched. If he didn’t fuck her soon, she was going to explode. He stepped back and she heard the rasp of a zipper, the rustle of denim over skin, and the crinkle of the tiny plastic condom packet being ripped open. The soundtrack of anticipation excited her more than seeing it happen.
Then he was touching her again. Running his fingers down her spine, gently cupping and squeezing her buttocks, pulling them apart so he could run his thumbs over her crease.
“Red, you have the nicest arse I’ve ever seen.”
Hardly words to seduce a girl, yet they were the sexiest things she’d ever heard. She was done with men saying what they thought she wanted to hear. Empty platitudes proclaiming her virtues. This was straight from the heart, or at least another major organ. “You say the sweetest things, now fuck me already.” Again she was almost shocked at the filth coming out of her mouth.
His low chuckle rumbled behind her. “You know, Red, I love it when you talk dirty.”
“Hunter!” She practically screamed at him with exasperation.
Gently he parted her legs and ran his hand down the cleft of her arse. The head of his cock rubbed against her clit, gently kissing her opening.
“You sure you want this?” he asked, moving his cock in ever so slightly.
“Yes,” Darla panted, pushing back against him. But he pulled back with her.
“Really sure?” he teased, nudging her with the head of his cock again.
“Hunter, please,” she begged. “I need you in me.”
He groaned and with a thrust of his hips, he filled her. Darla braced her hands on the counter and pushed back to meet him. He groaned again and stilled. She could feel him. Deep. His length buried, throbbing inside. He lay his chest against her back, his breath caressing her ear. “Don’t move,” he whispered, stroking the skin along her side. “You move and it will be all over.”
The phone rang. They froze. After a moment it stopped and beeped the arrival of a message. Neither of them said a word for almost a whole minute. It was like they had been caught out. Sprung fooling around. Almost like they were doing something they weren’t supposed too. The illicitness turned her on.
She didn’t want to stop. She didn’t want him to stop and stayed perfectly still, deliciously stretched around him and a little bit afraid he might withdraw. He didn’t and started to rock against her. Small, miniscule thrusts at first. Barely movements at all, as if testing the water. Slowly getting stronger. Longer. Pulling out and plunging in again. The head of his cock moved deeper each time, brushing forward against that spot. That special spot. The spot that would soon be her undoing if he kept this up.
With each thrust the pressure built, growing unbelievably heavy in her womb. She closed her eyes. Concentrated on what was fast becoming the centre of her mass until all at once he shattered her for a second time today, this time stronger and longer than she ever thought possible.
Never before had she had an orgasm from penetration alone. She rode the waves of aftershocks, drowning in the delicious sensations.
Hunter pulled out and turned her to face him. “I want to see your face when I make you come again.”
“I don’t think I can,” she panted, lost in his intense gaze.
“Oh,” he said and planted a quick kiss on her lips. “You will.”
He picked her up, and pushed her back against the large stainless steel fridge. The cool metal almost burned her skin, but it didn’t take long to forget any discomfort as he buried himself in her again. Bracing her arse with his large hands, he thrust once and bent to cover her mouth with his as he thrust again. Darla went into sensation overload. The base of his cock ground against her already sensitive clitoris. The man had serious skills.
Unbelievably, another orgasm started to build as his rhythm increased. She arched her back, tilting her pelvis to meet him with every drive of his cock into her opening. Her thighs gripped his waist, and her legs trembled as the orgasm rushed over her. He pulled away from the kiss and watched her intently. When the tremors subsided, Hunter sped his thrusts until, with a heavy moan, he buried himself deep and shuddered against her. Holding her tight through his own aftershock, he buried his face against the crook of her neck.
“You have no idea how long I wanted to do that,” he said, his hot breath searing the skin of her throat.
It’d been nearly two years since Julian left her. “Then why haven’t you?”
He pulled out, allowing her feet to drop to the floor, but he stayed close, his eyes sad. “First, you had just broken up with Julian. The scandal of him leaving you for his pregnant mistress was so public. You seemed so fragile and I didn’t want you on the rebound. I wanted to give you time to heal.
Darla nodded and drained the last of the wine out of her glass. “Julian’s betrayal stung so much. To have a child with another woman when he refused to even discuss the topic with me was the biggest slap in the face.”
Hunter’s expression turned thoughtful. “Look at it this way. At least you are totally free of him. Nothing to tie you together.”
Darla felt lighter. Not only had her sexual itch been scratched, she’d had the first deep and meaningful conversation with a man in longer than she could remember. If she wasn’t careful, she could really fall for Hunter Davis.
Darla’s phone beeped. “Sorry,” she said reaching for it. There were two messages. The newer one was a text from her brother telling her she didn’t need to come to the stables tomorrow. Excellent. Sleep in.
The other was a notification that she had voicemail from Virginia. She accessed it. “Something’s come up and I can’t make it over tonight,” her friend’s voice said, “but I have organised everything with the caterer and you don’t have to do a thing.” There was a murmur of a male voice followed by a muffled Virginia laughingly telling someone to stop it. Then she was back on the line. “I’ll be there early on Thursday to help you set up. See you then.”
“How about we take this wine upstairs and you can show me what else you can do,” she said after she hung up, taking a risk he that might say no.
He didn’t. He just grinned, picked up the bottle and followed her up the stairs.
Darla swam in a dream of warm kisses running up her spine. Memory of what she’d done last night not only played on her mind, but also played on her body with a delicious ache.
“Morning,” a deep male voice whispered in her ear as Hunter reached around to caress her breast, gently rolling her nipple with his thumb and forefinger. His erection pressed against her hip. What a way to wake up.
She turned onto her back and smiled up at him. “Good morning,” she said and frowned. It was still dark outside. “What time is it?”
“Four-thirty,” he whispered.
“We’ve only been asleep for a couple of hours,” she murmured sleepily.
His grin widened. “I know. But I promised Rosco I would meet him for a surf this morning. You could come if you want.”
“And leave this nice warm bed?” She stretched, putting her left breast within easy reach. He obliged her, taking her taut dusky pink flesh into his mouth and sucking. Desire blossomed between her legs and she moaned.
“You wicked temptress,” he said, only half jokingly as he hovered
above her. “You make me want to forget my obligations and the call of the waves.”
She wiggled closer, wrapping her arms around his neck, pulling him down to her mouth. He growled again before he broke off the kiss. “On second thoughts, you stay right where you are. I’m not going to be able to concentrate with you there.” He let her go and reached for his jeans beside the bed. He pulled them on, trying to trap his hard cock behind denim, and then left the zipper. “Stay right there. I’ll be back in a few hours and we can take a look at that storm damage.”
Darla stretched again and rolled back onto her stomach, giving him a perfect view of her arse.
“Vile temptress,” he growled as he opened the bedroom door. She smiled and snuggled back into her pillow. As soon as she closed her eyes, sleep overtook her again.
Hunter scrubbed the towel over his bare torso, his wetsuit hanging around his waist. “How about another set?” Rosco asked, clapping him on the shoulder.
“Nah,” he answered, wanting to get back to Darla as quickly as possible. “I’ve had enough for today.”
Rosco laughed. “I can remember a time when you could never get enough.”
“That’s before I started getting old,” Hunter shot back.
“You’re hardly ready for a Zimmer frame just yet, old man.”
Not only was Lachlan ‘Rosco’ Ross one of the celebrity surfers who endorsed Surf Hunter, they had been friends and surfing buds for the past six years. And recently, while Rosco been on top of his game professionally, Hunter was one of the very few people who knew things had not been so great on the home front.
“How’s Emma doing?” Hunter asked, changing the subject. He didn’t want to share what had happened last night yet, not even with his friend.
Rosco planted his surfboard in the sand and sighed. “She seems to be smiling more, which I’m taking as a good sign, and she’s got Bodhi into a great school.”
Secret Confessions: Sydney Housewives - Extended Edition Page 37
