by Lily Morton
“Better than your etchings,” I say slyly.
“Come on,” he says, ushering me out of the gallery. “We’ll go and grab some lunch. There’s a lovely fish restaurant here that has a nice view of the water.”
“Have you eaten there before?” I ask reluctantly.
He nods, looking suddenly awkward. “Patrick and I used to eat at the restaurant.” He stops suddenly. “Shit, I forgot to give the sales assistant my mobile number for the delivery driver. I won’t be a minute.”
He vanishes back into the gallery, and I wander over a little bridge, stopping in the middle to stare down at the water running busily over the stones. It glitters in the sun, nearly hurting my eyes. I lean my elbows on the balustrade and sigh. I hate the fact that he’s been here before with Patrick. It feels like everything we do has his perfect shadow falling over it.
But what worries me most is that I shouldn’t feel like this. Zeb hired me to do a job, and throughout my time with the agency, I’ve prided myself on being able to care about the clients but still be able to leave them behind once the job is done. I know I won’t be able to do that with him.
I look up and see him walking towards me. I watch the long length of his legs and the sun shining on the messy waves of his hair. He smiles, and I groan under my breath. “I’m fucked,” I say out loud. “Sorry,” I mutter to the old couple who just heard me. “But it’s the truth. Fucked,” I say sadly.
Chapter Eight
Jesse
When we get down to dinner that night, I stop dead.
“What is it?” Zeb’s hand comes to rest at the small of my back. He’s probably unaware of the gesture, but it feels like he’s branded me. I can feel the heat of his hand at my back, his fingers spread. It’s almost possessive, which is completely ridiculous, but I can’t deny that he’s seemed softer with me in some way since we got back from our afternoon out.
I sneak a look at him as he stares at the table, a small frown on his face. Probably looking for potential problems, I think affectionately.
He looks back at me. “What’s the problem?”
“The seating arrangements.” He looks at me in incomprehension. “They haven’t changed. I was hoping we were sitting next to Jeffrey Dahmer tonight rather than George and Mildred.”
“Nina and Victor,” he says in a measured voice, but the tug at his lips betrays his amusement. “And you’d probably have been better off with Jeffrey Dahmer because at least you could have had his share of the dinner menu.”
“I’m not sure who told you that you were funny, but I’d get a second opinion,” I inform him haughtily, and we both grin at each other like idiots until a throat clears. When I turn, I find the whole table watching us. Max has a grin on his face, but Patrick’s face is poisonous. Frances looks at him, and becoming aware of her glance, he rearranges his face hurriedly. I look at him thoughtfully and then obey Zeb’s urging and sit down at the table. I smile at everyone until I get to Nina, and the smile slides slowly off my face.
“Jesse,” she says in a glacial tone.
“Please don’t hurt me,” I mutter and then say “ouch” as Zeb kicks me.
She ignores me like the Queen of the Angry Dead that she undoubtedly is, and I settle down for what promises to be another fun-filled evening of food that wouldn’t fill a chihuahua, and conversation with Nina and Victor that runs the gamut of stocks and shares to icy digs at Zeb.
After one particular humdinger, I inhale sharply and open my mouth, only to shut it quickly when he grabs my thigh and squeezes. When I look at him he mouths, “Leave it,” and, endeavouring to keep to my plan of making him happy, I subside.
“Thank you,” he whispers into my ear, and I shudder. It isn’t inconspicuous, either. It’s a full-body judder, but I can’t help it. He’s so close to me, his hand warm on my thigh and his warm breath playing across my ear. To my horror, I feel my cock stir, and he goes completely still as if sensing it.
I look determinedly down at the table but when his grasp doesn’t ease up, I sneak a glance at him. He’s staring at me, his eyes dark and peculiarly intent, seemingly focused on my lips. As an experiment I run my tongue over my bottom lip and feel his hand tighten. I can’t help my gasp this time because he’s about two inches away from my cock, which is rock hard now. His gaze shoots up, and for a long second our eyes tangle.
Then Nina says something in a querulous tone, and the intimate bubble pops. His hand moves away from my leg, and he faces forward, talking to her, but I can see that his breaths are fast and unsteady. Like mine. Shit.
When dinner is finished, which is considerably before my appetite is satisfied, Frances stands up. She’s dressed in a black cap-sleeved dress and looks poised and attractive. She claps her hands to get our attention. “The older members of the party are going to the Blue Room to carry on their evening. We’ve got something different planned for everyone else,” she says.
“Will the older people be eating?” I say hopefully to Zeb. “Because I vote we go with them if that’s the case.”
He rolls his eyes and focuses on Frances.
“The rest of us,” she’s saying, “are going to play a game.”
“I’m not sure about this,” I hiss. “I’ve read books about the upper class and their parties. I don’t wish to be corrupted.”
He turns a gaze brimming with mirth on me just as Frances says excitedly, “We’re going to play hide-and-seek.”
I make a moue of disappointment, and Zeb chuckles. “I’d love to live in your head,” he mutters and pauses. “But only after I’ve taken Valium.”
I nudge him, trying not to laugh as Frances carries on talking, giving us an incredibly long list of rules that seem to go on forever.
“This is like the Geneva Convention version of hide-and-seek,” I whisper. “I vote we go and do something else.”
“And,” Frances says excitedly, “the prize is an all-expenses-paid week in the Caribbean.”
“Oh, well now, that’s different,” I say hurriedly. He raises an eyebrow, and I shake my head. “We should endeavour to take part in this wonderful event,” I say piously to him. I grab his hand. “Come on. Get up quickly because we need a fucking great hiding place. We’re going to win that prize.”
“Competition brings out a very unexpected side of you,” he muses, getting to his feet and following me as I tug him along.
“You have no idea,” I mutter. “Now, where’s the best place?”
We look in cupboards and rooms on the ground floor and everywhere is the sound of excited laughter. Then, all of a sudden, the lights go off.
“What the fuck? Is it a power cut or have they not paid their electricity bill?” I breathe, and he chuckles. It sounds rich and warm in the sudden darkness.
“ They switched the lights off on this floor to make it more difficult. You weren’t listening to the rules, were you?”
“Pshaw! Rules are for people who don’t win a week in the Caribbean.” I exclaim in triumph as I open a door. “Perfect. Get in here.”
“What the hell?” he says as I pull him in and shut the door. “Where are we?” His voice is suddenly at my ear and I jump.
“Jesus, warn a bloke, will you?”
“Oh, I’m sorry, Jesse. Did I not warn you where I was when you thrust me headfirst into a cupboard?”
“You’re so dramatic, Zeb,” I breathe admiringly. “I love this unexpected side of you.”
“Don’t get used to it. It doesn’t appear very often.”
“Lies,” I say blithely. “Very big lies.”
He chuckles and shifts position. I can feel his body all against my side, and I still suddenly as I realise how very small this fucking cupboard is.
“What are we hiding in?” he asks, and I shudder as his breath washes across my ear.
“Oh, erm.” I stop to clear my throat. “It’s a storage room for luggage. I found it when I got lost going to the shoot today.”
“Surely it’s completely in the wrong dir
ection.”
“Not if you’re acquainted with this party.” I shift position, trying to lean a little bit away from him before I lose my head and grab him. He’s just so close and hot. I squeeze my eyes closed, which makes it worse as his scent fills the small cupboard. It’s so warm and sexy. Like him.
He chuckles, and I suppress a groan of despair as my cock fills until it’s almost uncomfortable. I shift my feet again.
“You okay?” he asks.
“Fine. Just that this cupboard is very small.”
“Are you claustrophobic?” I can hear the concern in his voice. He fumbles, and I want to moan as he cups my face in his hands. “Say the word and we’ll fuck the game off,” he says, and I wonder if I’m imagining things because his voice sounds thick, and his hand is shaking with a tiny tremor.
“No,” I say, turning into him. His fingers brush my mouth. In a state of almost suspended animation, I feel them slowly sweep across my mouth. His thumb catches the lower lip, and I hear a hiss, and then he pushes down slowly, the wetness there touching his thumb.
I can hear panting breaths in the dark, and I don’t know whether it’s him or me, but I abruptly lose my control and take his thumb into my mouth, sucking it slowly and thoroughly.
His breath catches, and I hear a rumble before suddenly his thumb is gone and his hands are at my shoulders as he pushes me into the back wall. “Jesus,” he says, his breath harried and heavy. “Jesus, Jesse. We shouldn’t be doing this.”
“No,” I moan, and I lift my arms and tangle my hands behind his head, bringing it down until his lips graze mine. We stay there for a long second and then I swear I can literally feel his control snap as he lowers his mouth and takes mine in a deep, wet kiss.
I moan in my throat and pull his hair in an attempt to get more of his lips. He obeys and we sink into the kiss, tongues tangling and rubbing.
I pull my head back to take a breath and promptly lose it when he sinks into me, his body pressing mine into the wall. “Oh God, yes.” My voice is slurred and fucked up. “Get on me.”
He moans a wild sound and then he’s kissing me again, his cock a hard and heavy pressure against my own. He ruts against me and lowers his hands to grab my arse and pull me into him so he can get closer. It’s a desperate, unchecked gesture, and it turns the heat up for me even more. I cant my hips and rub on him, feeling my balls bunch and press into the seam of my trousers. It’s a sharp, bright pain and I kiss him deeper and wetter, our teeth clashing.
When he pulls away, I open my eyes blearily. “What is it?” I mutter. “Come back.”
He stands back, but I’m reassured by him keeping a hold of my arms. I look at him in the dim light now that my eyes have adjusted. He looks astonished. As if I’ve punched him in the face. “Zeb?”
He gives a sudden, sharp bark of laughter. “What am I doing?” he mutters.
“Not enough,” I observe and try to tug him back.
“I want you so much,” he says. “I don’t want to stop.”
“Stopping would be very bad. For my cock,” I add in case he didn’t get the memo.
He shakes his head, and grabbing my face between his palms, he kisses me slowly and so thoroughly that, when he draws back, I’m an inch away from coming.
“Come upstairs,” he whispers. “I need to be inside you so badly.”
I grab my cock and squeeze hard. “Fuck yes,” I mutter and follow him out of the cupboard. I can’t believe this is actually happening.
We somehow manage to make our way back to our floor without meeting anyone which is probably a good job as we can’t keep our hands off each other. We can’t even manage to make it into the room as he seems to lose patience and slams me into the wall by the door.
He takes my mouth with a low groan and I arch back off the wall, grinding my cock against his and moaning low. When he pulls away, I slur a protest, but he holds me against the wall with one hand while fumbling with the room card. It takes two tries but eventually the light glows green, and he opens the door, pulling me in after him and slamming it shut.
I start to laugh but it dies in my throat as he pushes me against the door and kisses me. He sucks on my lower lip, sending his tongue over it afterward to ease the sting as he pushes me into the hard surface, fitting his hips into mine. I pull my mouth away and groan at the feel of his cock against mine, fumbling with my hands at his hips, trying to pull him closer so I can grind harder against him.
His hands are rough as he pushes up my shirt, sending his palms over my chest and tweaking my nipples. Pleasure sears through me, and I cry out. He looks up with an evil expression.
“You’re sensitive here, aren’t you?” he mutters, rubbing the pad of his thumb over my nipple before he pinches it between his thumb and forefinger. The pain is sweetly sharp and I grunt, grabbing his head and pulling it towards me so I can kiss him. We get lost in this for what feels like a long time. The light is red behind my eyelids, and I tangle my tongue with his as his finger rubs ceaselessly against my nipples. First one then the other.
When he pulls back, my eyesight is blurry and my cock is throbbing almost painfully.
“Where are you going?” I slur as he stands back and weaves slightly. His face is set and intent, his eyes lowered to half-mast and his mouth swollen. His hair is sticking up in a messy tangle, and his shirt is half out of his trousers. It’s hard for a second to believe that this is buttoned-up, in-control Zeb, and it’s a dark thrill.
“I’m not going anywhere,” he says hoarsely. “I need your clothes off.”
“I’m happy with this plan,” I mutter, pulling my shirt up and off and faltering slightly as I forget to unbutton it and get it caught on my head.
“Somehow this is not surprising,” he says, and I can hear the amusement in his voice as his hands help me off with my shirt. When it clears my head, I glare at him. Control is coming back into his face, and I’m not having that, so I kick off my shoes and slowly unzip my trousers, the hiss of the zip loud in the quiet suite. I push my fingers into the gap as he stares with hot eyes at the strip of pubic hair now showing above the fabric. I’m relieved to see that the humour is gone again.
My trousers fall to the ground, and he grunts, looking me over where I stand. His eyes are avid and hot on my chest and the narrow strip of fabric that’s all that stands between me and nakedness.
“Get on the sofa,” he orders.
“Why? What about the bed?”
“The sofa’s closer,” he barks and starts to strip off his own shirt, revealing that wonderful hairy chest of his. His nipples are pale brown discs and his hips narrow. His trousers fall to the floor, leaving him in a pair of navy boxer briefs that do little to hide the bulge of his erection.
I lie back hurriedly on the sofa and cup my cock as I watch him stride towards me. It’s hot and hard in my briefs, and I can feel the spot of wetness growing.
“Hand off your cock,” he mutters, and all I can do is gasp as he lowers himself over me, giving me all of his lovely weight. I can feel the sharp dig of his hipbones, and his chest rubs against my swollen nipples, sending sparks of pleasure through my body.
He slides over me sinuously, his hands gripping the armrest behind my head as he starts to undulate against me, his cock rubbing against mine. I moan and he draws in a sharp breath before lowering his head and taking my mouth again.
He pulls back, and for a long second we stare at each other. Long enough for me to wonder whether he’s going to back away. Instead, he smiles almost tenderly and brushes his fingers down my face, lingering over my cheekbones and the tip of my nose before he rubs them over my lips. I kiss the tips, and he stares, before bending his head and kissing my sternum, tracking kisses in a row until he reaches my nipple. He pulls it into his mouth and suckles it, and I cry out, grabbing his head and forcing it against me. He laves and sucks, and when he pulls away, it’s only so he can do the same to the other one. When he sits back and starts to kiss downwards, I can barely remember my own name
.
He nuzzles into the hair around my belly button, darting out his tongue to rim it, and I wriggle protestingly. “Ticklish,” I murmur, and he smiles up at me. His eyes are a startling blue in the light, and for a second I want time to stop so that I can stare at him. Then he begins the descent towards my groin, and I abandon the idea of stopping time. How stupid would that be when I want him to hurry up and get to my cock?
He spreads my legs further with a demanding shove that makes my cock even harder, if that’s possible, and then nuzzles into the space where my leg meets my groin. He inhales deeply and when he looks up his eyes are bleary. “You smell so good here,” he says gruffly, and I can’t help arching my pelvis towards him.
He hovers over my straining cock, his warm breath brushing hot over the sensitive tip. Reaching out one long finger, he tracks over the sensitive skin of my hipbones and down the groove in my pelvis to where my dick is waiting. I shudder as he traces his finger over it, the pressure a taunt when I need a hard touch.
“Touch me, for fuck’s sake,” I groan desperately as he hovers there, watching the damp spot grow on my stripy briefs. “Zeb,” I moan, and something in the desperation seems to snap his control. He removes my briefs with a sharp tug and throws them over his head before bending and taking my cock down his throat.
“Oh shit,” I shout out far too loudly and then fall back, staring blindly up at the ceiling and panting as I feel the wet, suckling pressure on my dick. It’s pushed halfway down his throat and I feel his lips press against my pubic hair. This immediately makes me struggle up onto my elbows so I can see it. When I do, I groan loudly at the sight of his lips stretched tight and swollen around my cock and those blue, blue eyes staring at me intently.
He sucks hard, his mouth a heated seal round my cock, before letting me slip almost free so he can lick and suckle the sensitive head. He licks at the drops of precome on my cock and gives a pleased grunt that causes my balls to draw up.
“Shit, no,” I say, pulling back and grabbing the base of my dick. “God, that was too close,” I mutter, trying to get my breathing under control. He levers off me in a flurry of movement, and when I look up, he’s standing by the sofa stripping off his underwear. He tosses the fabric somewhere. It could be Outer Mongolia for all I care because I’m staring at his cock. It’s huge, the head angry and red-looking with moisture beading the top. His balls are big and hairy, swinging lower than mine, and my mouth is watering with the desire to suck him.
