“Jess,” he whispers, but I press a finger to his lips, then sink onto my knees.
I pull the sides of his jeans apart but leave them on, because guys seem to like being clothed while the girl’s naked, and I gently pull the elastic of his boxers and tug them down.
His erection strains toward me as if desperate for my mouth, but I don’t kiss it yet—I intend to make him wait. First, I release my hair from its clip so it falls around my shoulders, and toss the clip onto the table. Then, looking up at him, I lick my palm from the heel to the tips of my fingers before closing it around his erection. Slowly, I begin to stroke him.
Rich’s head falls back on the wall and he lets out a long sigh, but it’s not long before he lowers his gaze again, as if he can’t bear to stop watching me. I lick my other palm and close that hand around him too, twisting gently in opposite directions as I slide my hands up and down, a movement that makes him groan and slip his fingers into my hair as if he wants to hold me there, although he applies no force. I smooth one hand over the swollen tip and tease him there with my thumb. And then, finally, I lower my head and close my mouth over him.
His breath leaves him with a hiss, and his fingers tighten in my hair. I moan my approval, sliding my lips down, and begin exploring him with my tongue. Mmm, the taste of male arousal… I clench inside and know my body is preparing itself for him, moistening, swelling. I brush my tongue where the shaft meets the head, then all the way down, and make sure I spend some time there. I tease the sensitive spot at the base with my tongue and play with his balls, stroking and massaging, before finally returning to the tip and closing my mouth over it again.
Now I begin to pay serious attention there, letting his groans of pleasure and the way he grips my hair tell me when I do something he likes. He prefers a firm touch—he likes to play a little rough, does my Rich—so I suck hard and stroke him more firmly, and he swells in my mouth until he’s so hard I know he’s not far from exploding.
Feeling his hips giving involuntarily thrusts, I sweep my hair over my shoulder so he can see my mouth sliding up and down his shaft and let him dictate the pace, relaxing as much as I can to take him deep. He groans—he’s so close—and cups my head with his hands, watching himself slide between my lips.
“Jess…” He brushes my hair back from my face, and I glance up at him, which makes him shake his head and bare his teeth. “You’re so fucking beautiful,” he whispers fiercely.
I slide a hand to cup him underneath and tug gently, which makes him still and cry out as he squeezes his eyes shut. I close my eyes too, and then my mouth fills with warm, salty liquid, and I swallow him down, filled with joy that I’m able to do this for him, that I’m giving him such pleasure.
He gives long gasps as he comes, his body going rigid for seven or eight seconds, and then it releases him, and he sags back against the wall.
I lift my head, examine him, then wash my tongue across the tip.
“Ah. Jesus.” He knots his hands in my hair, and I laugh and lift his boxers back into place.
He helps me up and pulls me into his arms. I nestle there, my cheek on his chest, looking out to sea. It’s dark now and the moon’s rising, turning the view to monochrome. I feel as if we’re in an old black-and-white movie, Laurence Olivier and Vivien Leigh maybe, or Burton and Taylor, couples whose passion has resonated through the decades.
“Happy birthday,” I whisper, turning my head to kiss his chest.
“Come to bed.” Rich’s voice is soft and husky. “I have some unfinished business I’d like to talk to you about.”
Chapter Fifteen
Rich
I lead Jess into my bedroom and direct her onto the bed. It’s incredibly hot and stuffy in here, and even when I open the window, there’s hardly any breeze. There’s no air con either, but I do turn on the overhead fan, which moves slowly, just about stirring the warm air.
“Phew.” Jess flops onto her back, stretching her arms above her head. “I’m melting here. I can’t remember it ever being this hot.”
“That’s because you’re here. You must raise the temperature by twenty degrees.” Leaving her on the bed, I go into the kitchen, pour some water from the bottle in the fridge into a glass, and add some ice cubes. I return to the bedroom and offer it to her. She takes a few sips, watching me as I strip off the shirt, jeans, and boxers. Her eyes are wide, and when she puts the glass down, her lips part. She’s ripe for the taking, and I know that if I were to go down on her, she’d come within seconds, but I don’t want to rush this.
I climb onto the bed, stretch out beside her, and pull her onto her side to face me. She hooks a leg over mine, and I run a hand down her back while I kiss her, enjoying the feel of her damp skin beneath my fingers.
“Don’t you want me to clean my teeth?” she murmurs as my lips play with hers.
“That kind of thing doesn’t bother me. Does it you?”
“No.” Her eyes are hooded, full of desire. We’re well-matched in bed—we read each other well. Instinctively, I’m sure I know what she would and wouldn’t like. Something tells me there’s not a lot of the latter. I think Jess could be pretty adventurous in the bedroom, given half the chance.
As I kiss her, taking my time, I wonder how many other partners she’s had. It doesn’t bother me—at thirty-four, I’m hardly expecting any of the girls I meet to be virgins—but I find it interesting that I don’t like the thought of any other man touching her. I wonder if she feels the same way about me.
I hope I didn’t upset her with my reticence regarding talking about Teddi. My feelings about her are… complicated. I know that Jess thinks I’m in love with her.
I was. I don’t know if I still am. When I first met her, the day Stratton took me back to his house, she was twelve, all braces and plaits, skinny as a rake and as flat as a board. But there was something about her that fascinated me, even at fourteen. Maybe it was her blindness—I’d never known anyone who was blind, and I spent the first few hours worried I was going to upset her by saying something insensitive before I realized she’d heard it all before and it just made her laugh. Captivated, I went home and told Will as casually as I could that I’d met Stratton’s sister and she was kind of all right, and that I wanted him to meet her too. I suppose I wanted his approval of the first girl I’d ever liked. We all met up the next day, and immediately I saw I’d made a mistake. Will and Teddi sparked from the first minute he walked into the room. He teased her, and she responded with a feisty wit that made him laugh. At that moment, I knew I’d lost her to him, and my heart didn’t recover for another twenty years, if in fact it’s recovered at all.
I did my best to move on—I’ve hardly been a monk, and I’ve dated my share of girls. But I’ve never fallen in love with any of them, and over time I’ve come to think that’s because I gave my heart to Teddi all those years ago, and there’s nothing left for anyone else.
Will’s death was hardly of his own choosing, but I couldn’t shake the notion that he’d been given the girl of his dreams and had then abandoned her, leaving her so broken that no man would ever be able to put the pieces back together again. And it made me so angry. When I’ve gone home, away from my Teddi and Stratton and my other friends and family, I’ve ranted and railed at my brother for fucking up my life and having the cheek to die so I couldn’t berate him about it.
Now, though, lying here in the peace and quiet with Jess in my arms, I feel my anxiety and the intensity of my frustration and resentment begin to lift. I don’t think Jess provides all the answers by any means—she has her life here, and I doubt there’s any future for us. But that’s not the point. It’s as if I’ve been walking in the dark and Jess has appeared, and she’s shining so bright she’s lighting the way ahead. I remember Stratton saying something similar about Meg, comparing her to a scene in Dark Robot, where a Paladin appears out of the darkness to guide you across pools of poison. When he’d said it, I’d thought he was being romantic and a bit foolish, and it had m
ade me laugh. For the first time, though, I can see what he meant.
I prop my head on a hand and push Jess onto her back. She shifts beside me, looking up at me with her huge hazel eyes.
“I want to watch you come,” I tell her, liking the way her eyes widen at my words. “Okay?”
She nods, and when I slide my hand down her thigh to her knees, she parts them, letting me pull her leg across mine, leaving her open and exposed to my touch. I wait, though, taking time to trace my fingers up the inside of her thighs and across her belly, smiling when it quivers.
“Tickles,” she says.
“Sorry.” I do it again, though, and she laughs and pushes my hand away.
“Do I have to tie you down?” I ask mildly, not remotely surprised when her eyes light up.
“You’ll have to catch me first,” she says, but she’s breathless, so I know she’s playing.
I lift up onto my elbow so I can look down at her. Her hair is spread across the pillow and her cheeks are flushed. She moistens her lips with the tip of her tongue, making my cock twitch. I’ve only just come and I want to fuck this girl again. It’s like being eighteen, all hormones and hard-on.
I lean across to the glass and retrieve an ice cube from the water. Her expression turns wary, but she doesn’t try to stop me. I kiss her, and as my tongue plays with hers, I trail the ice cube up her thigh and over the soft skin between her legs. Jess gasps, and I take the opportunity of her open mouth to slide my tongue inside. I kiss her deeply, stroking through her folds with the ice cube, enjoying the way she moans and writhes beneath me.
“Lay still,” I scold when I finally lift my head. “I want to watch every little ounce of pleasure as you feel it.” The ice cube is almost melted, so I pop it into my mouth and crunch it up. While I’m doing that, I slide a finger down over her clit and into the heart of her, and feel a surge of satisfaction as her lips part and she moans. “Slowly…” I stroke her, finding her folds swollen, and my fingers are soon coated with her moisture. “That’s it.”
I push her other knee to make her widen her thighs, loving the way she’s now completely mine. Already she’s losing it, her eyes glazing, her muscles turning limp as she relaxes beneath my touch.
I kiss down her neck, and as I continue to stroke her, I lower a head to her breast and lightly draw my tongue around a nipple. Jess sighs, and so I lean across and do it to the other one, exploring all the time with my fingers. Man, she’s wet, and that’s such a fucking turn on.
Stretched out beneath me, her legs spread wide, she’s abandoned herself to pleasure, and I fully intend to give it to her. I slide two fingers down inside her, curving them up, find her G-spot, and massage it while at the same time I press my thumb on her clit.
“Ohhh…” she moans. She sucks her bottom lip, and her gaze meets mine. Her cheeks flush as she sees me watching her. “Can’t you look at the view?” she whispers.
I shake my head, keeping my gaze fixed on hers. Adjusting the angle of my hand, I’m able to slide my little finger down beneath her, and I tease her there too, using her moisture to let my finger slide just inside her tight muscle.
Jess closes her eyes, but I kiss her and murmur, “Look at me.” Her eyes flutter open as if the lids are too heavy for her to hold up.
“Keep them open,” I tell her. “I want to make sure you’re thinking about me.”
She blinks and focuses on me then, puzzled. That tells me what I need to know—she’s forgotten about that prick, Alastair. There’s nobody in this bed except the two of us, and I feel a swell of smug pleasure at that.
“Come for me,” I say, moving my hand so I’m stimulating all the right places, and Jess arches her back, her breaths coming in pants. I kiss around to her ear and run my tongue around the edge. “Go on, baby girl. Come all over my hand. You’re so fucking wet. Come on. Clench around me and scream out my name.”
She shudders, and I press down on her clit and sink my fingers deeper into her as she tightens around them. She gasps and cries out, and I watch her with satisfaction as she clenches in pulses around me, six, seven, eight times, before collapsing back onto the bed with a long moan.
I’m not done yet, though. I’m hard again, and I grab my wallet from where I left it on the table, and put on a condom in seconds. I roll a limp Jess over onto her front, kneel behind her, and pull her hips up so she’s on her knees. Before she can say anything, I press the tip of my erection between her folds and thrust forward.
“Jesus!” Jess clutches the pillow and buries her face in it. “Rich!”
“Hold on.” I begin to thrust. “This is going to be fast, and you’re going to come again, honey.”
“I… can’t…”
I don’t bother to reply, because I know she will. I set up a quick pace, enjoying the position and how it lets me plunge right into her. I look down and watch myself sliding in and out of her, and I groan, already feeling the build of pleasure inside me.
Leaning forward, I cup a breast with one hand and tug her nipple, then slide the other hand between her legs and circle my fingers over her clit. Already sensitive there, she cries out, and I fight against the imminent arrival of my own climax just enough to bring her to the edge with me.
We come together, our joint pleasure and the clenching of our muscles prolonging each other’s orgasms for so long I think I’m going to pass out. I come and I come and I come, even though I’ve already spilled and I was sure there was nothing left inside me, only half aware of Jess clenching and crying out and shuddering beneath me.
And then I’m done, and we both fall forward in a hot and sweaty heap, chests heaving, our skin sticking together.
“Holy shit.” Jess is sprawled under me. “Are you trying to sex me to death?”
“Maybe.” I lick around her neck, tasting salt, and chuckle when she complains and writhes beneath me.
“Get off.”
“No.” I hold her hands with mine and give small thrusts of my hips, sliding inside her. She groans and buries her face in the pillow. “I could do this to you all night,” I tell her, nipping her earlobe.
“Ow. I hate you.”
“No, you don’t.”
“No, I don’t.” She lets me kiss her neck and yawns. “Mmm. What a yummy evening.”
I really could stay there all night but I don’t want to hurt her, so I withdraw in spite of her complaints, discard the condom, then pull her back into my arms.
“It’s so hot,” she whispers. “I’ll always remember this Christmas.”
“Me too.” I kiss her hair. Something tells me I’m not going to forget Jess in a hurry.
Chapter Sixteen
Jess
The next four days pass in a blissful blur of hot sun, seawater, ice cream, and frequent, sweaty, heart-pounding sex. Rich can’t keep his hands off me, and I’m far from complaining. I thought I felt deeply for Alastair, but now that relationship seems a mere shadow compared to this one. In the period leading up to New Year, I feel a strange combination of obsessive passion that’s overwhelming in its intensity, along with an almost spiritual awakening, where I’m so chilled out I feel as if I’ve passed onto another plane of existence where all that exist are me, Rich, and this golden beach.
We don’t talk about the future. Caught up in this state of otherworldliness, I put all thoughts about the New Year to the back of my mind and live purely in the moment, and I suspect that Rich is doing the same.
The days seem twice as long as usual, every minute and hour passing slowly, as if usually we’re traveling along the river of time on a speedboat, and now we’ve transferred to a punt, admiring the scenery as we cruise along.
I get to know every inch of Rich’s mind and body. I spend hours trailing my fingers over him, exploring every hair, every dip and curve of his muscles. I discover that he loves his shoulders being massaged but he isn’t keen on his feet being touched. He loves oral sex—giving and receiving—but he prefers it when I take him right to the edge and then he finish
es off inside me, thrusting us both to a climax. I learn that he will spend hours taking time to pleasure me because seeing me aroused turns him on, and me giving him full rein over my passion is the best way to please him. It’s not an onerous task for me, and once he discovers that I’m happy to let him take control, we set sail on a voyage of discovery that has me in an almost permanent state of arousal—if we’re not having sex, we’re talking about it or I’m thinking about it.
But I also take time to explore his mind, and I discover a sharp brain beneath his self-deprecating exterior. He tells me a lot about setting up a business, about how to put aside a percentage for my tax, about claiming for GST, about promotion and marketing and a hundred other things I would never have thought of. I’m still not sure I have the wherewithal to do it, but I’m excited at the thought of giving it a go, and I haven’t been excited about life for a while, so I figure it’s the right thing to do.
For the first time, with Rich’s encouragement, I spend some time painting life the way I see it. I paint everything from seascapes to still life to pictures of Rich, which gives me the time to develop my life drawings and letch at the same time. I fill an A3 pad with sketches of him—lying in bed watching me with a smile, the duvet artfully draped over his manly parts, reclining in his chair, reading, and my favorite, asleep, giving me time to really study his face. I also take some photos of him in action, running along the beach in the early morning, stretching up to nail a board of the bach that has come loose, and I transfer these to my pad, doing my best to capture the movement of his muscles. But they’re not just sketches—I embellish them with colors and shapes and occasionally numbers, giving as close a representation as I can to the strange way I see the world.
“These are good, Jess,” Rich says the first time I’m brave enough to show him the sketchpad. “I mean, really good. I know I’m not an art critic, but there’s an energy to these that’s different, exciting. You’ve got to do more of these.” He goes on to say how I could adapt the designs for my clay objects, leaving me with a rising sense of excitement at the thought that I might actually be able to do this.
My New Year Fling: A Sexy Christmas Billionaire Romance (Love Comes Later Book 2) Page 12
