by Meg Buchanan
He felt his body echo the shiver of Milly’s when he touched her. He slowly released his breath. This could be the most erotic thing he’d ever done. He’d never deliberately taken turns or taken so much time about getting undressed. Usually it was all fumbling and tumbling and all jumbled up. Not clean and slow and silver like this.
Milly’s hands stopped at the fastening of the jeans. “Lie down,” she said.
“Lie down?”
“Yes. I want to touch all of you.”
“Jesus.” Didn’t know she could get bossy about what she wanted. “Hang on a minute.”
He leaned forward and pulled off his socks. He flicked the socks to the end of the mattress and heard them hit the flap. He lay back against the pillows. Fingers linked behind his head.
“Like this?”
Now his eyes were getting used to the dark, he could see more. Milly had become a pale shadow shape with eyes and lips, the outline of breasts, nipples darker.
She leaned forward, planted one hand in the middle of his chest and kissed him. “Just like that.”
He went to hold her and pull her down on him, but she batted his hands away and pushed herself back up.
16. Chapter Sixteen
“No.” She went back to his waistband, popped the button and then slowly pulled down the zip. It seemed to move just one tooth at the time. She pulled at the waist-band, but nothing really moved.
“Need help?” he asked.
“I think so.” She straightened up a little. “How come it’s so hard? It looks easy in the movies.”
“I bet they have a practice run.” He sat up enough to wiggle out of his jeans, chucked them over the side of the mattress. He wasn’t sure if Milly meant the boxers to go too so he left them on.
But he’d forgotten the bloody condoms were in his jeans pocket.
He would have to scramble around to find them when he needed them, and then the pocket they were in. Real smooth. Should have stuck them under the pillow the moment they got in here.
“Do you think so?” She touched his stomach with the flat of her hand, but now she sounded a little unsure.
Might be red light time anyway. Won’t need the condoms.
He sat, then knelt in front of her. “Yeah, it has to be all stop and start when they’re filming for them to all look that good all the time.”
He reached for her again, pulled her closer and kissed her. His hands shaped the curve of her hip. She felt soft and smooth.
He sensed her relax into the kiss. The softness of her mouth, the touch of her tongue, her lips, so sweet. Her hands tangled in his hair. She sighed again and leaned into him, her breasts soft against his chest.
Still no red light.
“My turn now. You lie down.”
She swivelled her legs round a bit so she could sit, then lie down, her feet at the pillow end, and head near where the socks landed. Not quite what he meant to happen.
He crawled until he could kneel astride her. Those little denim shorts she had on were going to be easy. Button, zip, then down those legs, smooth and brown and perfect.
She lay there as he found the button, wrangled it undone, then moved the zip down as slowly as she had his. He slid his fingers around to her back under the waistband and eased the shorts down, felt the curve of her as she lifted her body slightly to help. He left the wisp of lace.
This game was fun. One scrap at a time.
He moved backwards on his knees until she could bend hers, and then the shorts were history.
He collapsed down beside her. “What now?” He ran his hand down her body, breast to navel. He felt her stomach muscles flutter as he reached the lace.
He stopped. Sliding his fingers under the elastic and down, was tempting, but didn’t feel right yet. Instead he left his hand on her hip and kissed her again. He moved his mouth to her neck. Her body pressed against his hand.
He could feel the jut of her hip bone, the hollow of her stomach, the edge of the lace. But he wasn’t sure what she wanted now.
At school there had been no talk of what she liked, or even of anyone getting this close to her. Then she put her palm over his hand and pushed it downwards.
“Don’t stop, Cole.” Her voice a whisper.
He looked up to see her eyes open and dark, her lips a little apart. As his hand moved down under the lace, she drew in a breath as quiet as her whisper, then his fingers stroked first the fine hair, then the soft warmth where the flesh separated, and her breath came out as a sigh as her legs parted.
His hand moved between her legs, he wasn’t sure he could stop now even if he wanted to. He shifted his mouth to a breast.
Milly gave another shuddering sigh. “That’s nice,” she breathed, then held each side of his face with her fingers and pulled his head up to kiss him.
He paused to focus on the kiss, then his hand stroked her flesh gently again. She pushed into his palm, her tongue following the rhythm of his hand, their mouths, hands and bodies.
Her breath started coming faster. She pulled him against her harder. Then took her mouth away from his as if she didn’t know what to do with it. Her hands clutched at nothing. Then the sleeping bag. Then his shoulder.
She pushed harder against his hand, his palm, his fingers, her body arched higher and higher. Until, with a shudder, she fell back.
Fuck. She’d climaxed. He’d barely touched her.
He went to pull his hand away. She held it there between her legs. He stroked carefully as the shudders stopped, watching her.
Beautiful. Her creamy body against the dark of the sleeping bag. Hair fanned out, eyes closed. Her breath slowing. She lay there as if waiting for her heart to return to normal.
Jesus. That had never happened before. This wasn’t normal.
He thought the ultimate was if they both came together. Sometimes happened. Never that quick with the girl though. Especially her first time.
Didn’t girls have to learn how to do that?
He moved his hand back to her hip, leaned over and kissed her lips, then drew back. What happens now?
Milly opened her eyes. She reached up to stroke his face, outline his lips, then her fingers slowly trailed down his chest.
“So, that’s what it is like with someone,” she said.
“Yeah.” He kissed her again. And it would be a total pain if all she wanted to do now was curl up and go to sleep. Might solve the finding of the condom problem, but that’s about all.
Then he realised what she’d said.
“With someone?”
Milly shrugged. Maybe she’d just realised what she’d said too.
“What’s it like without someone?” he asked.
“Much the same.” She rolled over, pushed herself up and kneeled above him.
“Do you have condoms in here, Cole?”
Cole woke with Milly curled up and curved into his stomach, his knee on her thigh, his arm resting on her waist. They were both naked so last night hadn’t just been a dream.
He could hear a lone guitar playing quietly. It had to be Isaac. No other sound came from outside except for the waves in the distance and occasionally a car going along the beach road.
Milly seemed to enjoy last night as much as he did. Everything he’d imagined, the touching and kissing, and finally making love, with her looking up at him, like he was everything.
And she had been fun, not shy and hesitant like he’d thought she might be, but right into it, giving him orders, telling him what she wanted. Good not to be guessing.
Luke would have hated it. He said he couldn’t stand being told what to do in bed. Poor Tessa just getting whatever Luke wanted.
He ran his hand over Milly’s hip. Beautiful. She had the perfect body. Not too big or too small anywhere.
She started to stir then turned over slowly and smiled through the hair that had tumbled back over her face. “Good morning.”
He brushed the hair out of her eyes. “Did I wake you?”
She shook her hea
d. “No, just lying here.” She nodded outside. “It’s really quiet, except for the guitar. Who do you think is playing?”
“It sounds like Isaac.”
Milly listened for a little longer.
“He’s good, isn’t he?”
He nodded. Of all of them Isaac was probably the best musician.
She wrapped her arms around his neck. “Did you like last night?” she whispered.
“A lot.” He kissed the tip of her nose. No telling what his breath smelled like this early in the morning.
“We could do it again.” She started fiddling around under the sheets.
“Someone might hear us.”
“We can be quiet.”
“Can you?” She didn’t seem to have any restraint last night. Another thing that made her different from other girls. Those sounds, and they didn’t seem pretend.
She ran her finger along his erection. “You’re ready.”
“Jesus.”
She leaned over and kissed him. Her breasts brushed against his skin. Her breath smelled all right, and she didn’t seem put off by his. Maybe this was a good idea.
He pushed the sheet back. “Hold that thought. I need a slash first.”
“That’s romantic.”
“It’s like those movies you mentioned last night.”
He grabbed his jeans, pulled them on, zipped up, then worked his way across the mattress to the flap.
Outside felt a bit cooler than under the canopy, but not much. Isaac was sitting on the sleep-out steps, picking out something on the guitar. The lawn looked a mess. Bottles, cans, plates, the tipped over brazier. It looked like home after his dad and his mates had had a session. A couple of the vehicles that had been there last night were gone. He thought he’d heard someone leave.
“Denis’s mates go?” he asked Isaac.
Isaac nodded and kept playing. Didn’t seem in the mood to talk. The bach looked all asleep still and the toilet was inside. He’d use a sand-hill.
When he got back, Milly was waiting, still under the covers, her head on the pillow. He crawled into the canopy, got rid of the jeans.
“All sorted?” Milly held up the sheet, so he could slide under it. He got a glimpse of that perfect body again. The nipples darker than he had imagined and the hair at the base of her stomach almost as dark as the hair on her head. Beautiful. And all his. Amazing.
The guitar played on and waves shushed in the background.
“Fold the covers back,” he suggested. This time he wanted to see what they were doing. And they could make this last. Nobody else seemed awake.
She hesitated for a moment, pushed the sheet and sleeping bag away.
“You’re beautiful,” he murmured, and she bit her lip.
He rolled over enough to kiss her, and her fingers sought out his erection again.
Maybe she didn’t want to make it last. She pushed herself up to kneeling, studied his cock, then ran her finger the length of it.
“Who would have thought?” she asked and looked at him.
He sucked in a breath. Maybe she did want to make it last.
“Thought what?”
“That it all fits.”
He snorted. “Good design.”
Milly giggled. She leaned over and kissed the tip.
“Jesus, Milly.” No condom, no lead up, just peed. Beside he wanted to hold her not have her go down on him. “Come here.” He pulled her closer, then tried to roll over so he was on top.
Milly pulled away from the kiss.
“Not that way.”
He gave up. She could run this.
“What then?”
She pushed herself up, so she was kneeling astride him.
“Like this. You were on top every time last night. Where are those condoms?”
He fished around under the pillow, found one and handed it to her.
She looked pretty fabulous rising up over him like that. Not a single thing about her less than perfect.
Milly took the foil package from him, she used her teeth to tear it open and rolled it slowly over him.
She looked up. “Am I hurting you?”
“No.”
“Good.” She finished the job with the condom. Then straddled him, slowly took him in then rode him. As her body rose then dropped, Milly threw her head back, lost in sensation.
17. Chapter Seventeen
He got Milly home late morning. Tom was just coming out of the house when they pulled up in the drive.
Milly leapt out and grabbed her bag and the tent off the back.
“Did the party go well?” Her father wandered over to them.
“It was lovely,” lied Milly.
But maybe she was talking about being under the canopy. Then it would be true. Funny that she was so reserved out of bed but seemed to love everything about sex, and was a bloody fast learner.
Probably wouldn’t share that insight with Tom.
“I’m going to start on the morning chores,” said Tom.
“I’ll put these away and then come and help.” Milly held up the bag and tent.
“I can help too.” It would seem a bit strange to leave Tom to do the work he employed him to do. But working with him would be even stranger after the last twelve hours with his daughter.
Milly kissed Cole on the cheek.
“Okay, I’ll let you help. I’ll be back in a moment.” Tom watched his daughter go into the house, then turned back to Cole.
“I didn’t see that coming. I thought a bunch of Milly’s friends and your friends went to this party.”
“We did.”
“But you and my daughter are an item now?”
Cole nodded. And hopefully he still had a job despite that. Tom can’t be that protective. He let her go to the party with him.
Tom wandered over to the stables. Cole followed, and they started morning muck out. They heard the back door slam. Milly must be on her way over.
Tom stood up. He hadn’t said anything else since he saw the kiss on the cheek and asked about them. He watched Cole carry an armful of hay into a stall and waited for him to come out again.
“I should have employed someone short, fat and ugly to do your job,” he said at last.
No way to respond to that. He went back to the bale in the wheel barrow and broke off another slab of hay.
Milly’s father leaned on the door of the stall.
“Well, she had to grow up some time. Horses weren’t always going to be her only interest.”
Sounded reasonable.
Tom hadn’t finished. “But if you hurt her, Cole, you’ll have me to answer to.”
Cole shut the stall door.
“Yes, sir,” he said. But, he couldn’t imagine ever hurting Milly. He was the one in danger here.
She came over to them. “What are you two talking about that’s so serious?”
“We thought we’d go and look at those horses this afternoon instead of tomorrow, Princess. See if they’ll suit you. We can all go. Now do you think you two are up to finishing here?”
“Of course, Daddy.” Milly watched her father go back to the house. “What were you really talking about?”
“Man stuff.”
Milly snorted. “What he’ll do to you if you aren’t nice to me?”
“Pretty much.”
“Pffft.” Milly picked up the rake and started to pull the straw out of the next stall. “He’s always over protective.”
Then she looked across the divider between the two stalls.
“Should I tell him how nice you really are to me?” She leaned her elbow on the divider and cupped her cheek.
Cole watched the talking, the leading of the horses, and the rubbing of hands over tendons. It seemed to go on forever. Tom, Milly and the owner had talked about every part of those horses, the way they moved, what they’d been fed since they were born, what the stallions who sired them had achieved, and the mares.
Finally, Milly left the two men and came over to him.
Milly shook her head. “Dad wants to see how they go with me riding them.”
Bloody hell, how long does it take to buy two horses?
She nodded at the paddock with a show jumping course set up on it.
“I’m just getting my boots and helmet. Mr Hastings is going to saddle them for me and I’ll take them over the jumps.”
“How long will that take?”
“Not long, five jumps each?”
He leaned against the fence beside Tom and Hastings, watching Milly enter the ring.
“She looks good on Karim,” said Hastings.
Cole looked at the man. Milly always looked good. Of course she’d look good on that horse. She looked good on any horse.
Milly approached the first fence. Hastings waved his hand to take in the course.
“We’ve set the fences low, but you will still see what they can do. Show jumping tests the technical jumping skills of the horse and rider, including suppleness, obedience, fitness and athleticism.” Hastings had to be talking for the sake of talking, he had to know Tom knew that.
The horse flew over the fence and moved smoothly towards the next.
“She placed him well,” said Hastings.
Tom nodded. Milly steered the horse in a wide curving run to the next fence. To Cole, Milly’s father seemed to be riding with her in his mind. Every now and then he would change his balance or move his hands.
“These fences are brightly coloured and consist of elements that can be knocked down, unlike cross country obstacles,” said Hastings to Cole. “Karim is a thoroughbred. He’s bred to race. He’s a four-year-old, so he’s been through racing preparation.” More talking for the sake of it. “But after he’d had a couple of runs, it was obvious he wasn’t going to be a champion. Eventing could be the way to go with him.”
“Would a racehorse be competitive?” Cole asked. The ones he’d seen at Tom’s place seemed to be happy just to run, not do the stuff he’d seen Milly doing with Hunter and Wildfire.
Tom leaned against the fence and watched Milly step up from a canter to make a fast circuit right round the outside of the jumping course. “It depends how they’ve been handled. If the horse has been brought on carefully, and if they can jump like Hastings says this one can, then the racing pretraining can be beneficial. A racehorse, if you get a nice one, is much more advanced than a purpose-bred horse at the same age.”
