Winter Sparks

by Rebecca Fairfax

  “Xander, Alessa was asking about Whyte’s next showcase evening—is it something she could cover for the Herald?”

  What? She hadn’t, and she couldn’t think or make rational conversation about anything, let alone that, not with Hugo pushing her skirt higher and higher until his hand lay on her bare thigh and travelled upwards. Oh, and didn’t he know it. His questing fingers soon reached her upper thigh, his little finger sweeping small circles. She opened her legs, and he stroked the lace of her panties and pushed beneath, rubbing along the seam of her flesh.

  “You’re very wet, Alessa.” His voice was thankfully low, and its husky timbre rumbled through her

  “I know.” Her voice had gone breathy.

  He pushed deeper, all his fingers exploring, pressing deeper. She squirmed under his hand, raising her legs to force him inside, having to suppress any other reaction to his touch, especially her gasps. She knew the second he realised she was mostly bare—his fingers stilled and his brows rose to his hairline. God, that look, along with his confident, knowledgeable touch, had her creaming further, almost coming where she sat.

  “Hugo! Hugo! Go on!”

  The other gallery assistant, Benjy, was gesturing towards the long table at the head of the room. Their table, the room, really, was applauding and cheering. A quick glance at the programme showed Alessa they’d reached Entrepreneur of the Year, for which Hugo Winter was nominated, and had seemingly won!

  She hid her grin as he stood, buttoned his dinner jacket over his erection and strode to the top table, where he accepted his plaque and looked attentive at the speaker’s comments about the qualities of successful entrepreneurship in a dynamic, creative and visionary business leader. Alessa’s applause was among the loudest as Hugo thanked the host and returned, his gaze locked with hers.

  As he sat, she leaned in and let her hand linger on his hardness, looking up at him from under her lashes. “Well done. You deserve a reward for your award.”

  He clasped his hand over hers. “And you deserve a spanking, you little minx. I’ve a good mind to turn you over my knee, rip those lace panties off you and smack that pert little arse until you beg for mercy.” He looked up as she froze, her breath seizing. “Ah. I see. You’d beg for more.” And his tone held an entire world of discovery in it.

  She stared, unable to wisecrack, to quip, even to reply, although several questions burned in her mind. His next words shocked her.

  “I’ve got a room booked here.”

  Not shocked. Thrilled. “I hope it’s a double bed.”

  His eyes gleamed. “King sized. Big enough for you?”

  She couldn’t resist it. “That remains to be seen. And you know what they say, the proof of the pudding is in the…”

  “Eating.” He dropped his head low, low enough to whisper in her ear, “Oh, Alessandra Marks. I’m so going to enjoy making your sparks fly.”

  And although she was feeling heated, the most delicious dark shiver rippled down her spine, making her shudder in her seat.

  Chapter Four

  Hugo tore his mouth from hers after kissing her ravenously, her back against the dimly lit hotel room door he’d just closed behind them. “You can always change your mind.”

  She eyed him. “I know.”

  “Do you have a safe word?”

  Oh, my holy God. “Herald.” It was the first thing to pop into her head, and she’d be unlikely, during sex, to shout out the name of the company that employed her. She hoped. “Do you have one?”

  Hugo moved farther into the room, pulling her with him. “And that’s called topping from the bottom. Talking of, you were a naughty girl who needs punishing.”

  He had to know what he was doing to her, with his words, the look in his eyes and his actions. Alessa grew wetter between the legs as Hugo slipped off his jacket and tossed it over the back of the armchair he then sat in. He patted his knees. “Come here.”

  Heart thumping, she walked to him.

  “Lie down.”

  She did, face down over his firm-muscled legs, her head dangling and her legs bending under her.

  “Hmm. You on your knees for me. Good idea.”

  Her face flamed, and not because of the position. Well, yes, due to the position, her vulnerable, at his command, him inching up her skirts to froth them around her shoulders. “Nice surprise,” he commented, running a finger inside the elastic of one stocking top. “Nice panties too.” The pause that followed was calculated to have her squirming, anticipating, hoping… His fingers came at the gap between her cheeks and she flinched, frowning, understanding when he said, “I don’t want anything in the way.” He tucked the lace, what little there was of it, into the crack of her ass, leaving the waistband and the line now down the middle framing her cheeks.

  She’d thought she’d be bare-assed, lying on top of the fabric of his trousers. Not to be. She wriggled and the lace bisecting her scratched at her, stimulating her pussy lips and clit, releasing more wetness. She was just about to say something when the flat of Hugo’s hand cracked against her arse. Whack! The blow stung more than she’d expected. He pressed one hand on the base of her spine, holding her down, and landed a second spank on the other cheek.

  Just two, that was all it took for the shock and the pain, the sting and the smart to turn into fire, radiating from her burning flesh to race through her veins. Heat rushed to her pussy and nipples, and she wanted to grind on him, to both assuage the ache and feed the conflagration. She moaned as Hugo eased a finger between her legs, under the material of her panties, drawing it between her lips.

  “I love how wet you are for me already,” he said. “But no coming until I say. Got that?” The sudden sharp slap that punctuated his question had her biting back a gasp. He took her response as agreement and resumed spanking, hitting first one cheek, then the other. He didn’t count, or make her do so, just rained blow after blow of pure illicit pleasure on her flesh, turning up the heat that consumed her, stoking her need.

  She was clawing at the carpet under her fingers, so swollen with her desire that the panties bunched near her core were a nonstop simulation, one she rubbed against, on the extreme edge and unable to hold it in a second longer. The spanking stopped and the lace rubbing her inner lips tautened and sawed, snagging her engorged flesh and clit. Hugo, she understood, was prolonging her torment, ratcheting it, until with a quiet, “Now,” he pulled the lace hard across her, scraping her bundle of nerves. Alessa’s climax roared up through her, releasing liquid heat, and he wasn’t even touching her. She cried out and dug the nails of one hand into his ankle—all she could reach. He pushed his fingers into her, sudden, shocking, rubbing and stroking, prolonging her convulsions. He was deep now, prolonging her aftershocks, her sheath squeezing his hand. It was a minute before he let her free, easing her onto the floor to kneel against his legs, her forehead to his knees, gently stroking her hair as she rode the endorphin-fuelled afterglow.

  “Je-sus!” Alessa finally managed, blowing her hair from her eyes to stare up at him, arranging her skirts around her. She sat back on her heels, gingerly, testing. God, she burned so good.

  “You’re so responsive,” came Hugo’s voice. “I’d love to take a crop to you.”

  “Not a flogger?” she asked, her voice a little shaky.

  “I prefer a crop. Cleaner lines.” His grin was piratical.

  “Let’s see what else you prefer.” Cheesy line, she knew, but she wanted to get her hands—and mouth—on him. He was hard, making her unzip him very carefully. “Oh, may I?” she threw in, belatedly.

  “We’ll have to talk about your Domme tendencies later,” Hugo mused, humming in pleasure as she freed him. He was swollen, the head dark and engorged, and Alessa bent to it. “Alessa.” The tone had her head shooting back up. “Do you want me to wear a condom?”

  “Oh.” She’d been so focussed on his pleasure, on the temptation calling to her, the bead of fluid at the end of his slit begging for the tip of her tongue.

&nbs
p; “I’m clean. I know you have no reason to believe my word. I don’t exactly have a medical report with me.”

  “I believe you.” She didn’t know why, but she did. “I’d like to taste you. If you’re okay with it.”

  He didn’t reply but curled his hand around her nape to draw her forward. When she opened her mouth, he rested the head of his cock on her bottom lip. She licked the crown, scooping up the bubble of liquid she’d been eyeing, letting his flavour coat her taste buds. Breathing in through her nose, she swirled her tongue over his shaft, learning his feel and size. When she eased her tongue tip into the slit, he hissed.

  “I like to fuck deep.”

  She raised her eyes to his at his words, and he studied her face for a moment before pulling her head into him and pushing his cock over her tongue and into the back of her throat.

  “Better tilt your head back.” He cupped her head with both hands, thrusting himself in and out of her mouth.

  God, the control and precision he had! Alessa closed her lips around him, revelling in the shudders she drew when she raked his pulsing flesh with her teeth.

  “I’d love a picture of you like this, on your knees, my cock down your throat.”

  Those filthy words, spoken in his oh-so-correct accent, inflamed her further, and his fingers now digging into her scalp, testament to his slipping control, thrilled her. He worked her back and forth on his cock, fucking her mouth, his pace fierce. “I can’t last,” he admitted, his voice not as steady as it had been. “You’re too good.”

  She felt the second his climax hit. His grip on her head hardened and he stiffened, freezing almost, his muscles bunching. She thought he gasped out, “You’re sure?” but she didn’t see how he’d stop, could pull out, not when he was pure hard heat and power in her mouth. The liquid hit her tongue and the roof of her mouth and spurted down the back of her throat. She swallowed, making sure she wrung every drop from him, drew out his climax as he’d done hers, and when she looked up, he was staring down at her. The intensity was almost too much. She let his softened cock slip free.

  “Well, Je-sus, indeed,” Hugo said, the echo of her exclamation making her smile. She gave a trial cough, clearing her throat, biting back the squeal of surprise that bubbled free when Hugo pulled her up to sit her on his knee and hold her to him.

  “You’re a marvel,” he whispered into the top of her head. “And now, I get to play with you while I recover from your talent. Recovery time takes longer the older one gets.”

  “Oh. And how—”

  “Fifty.”

  She caught the unspoken, “something,” and hoped the “something” was nearer to fifty-one than, say, fifty-nine. She thought it must be. Maybe this year had been the big five-oh. As opposed to the big O, which he must have—and give—on the regular. She fought a giggle, smothering it into his chest. His ripped pecs. His defined abs. She raised her head. “Do you attend the Army Fit sessions in the park?”

  His chest rippled as he laughed. “Not quite. We play Sunday League football there, though. We have a company membership at the gym, with a trainer who’s a complete brute. Let me get you a drink. You’ve earned it.”

  She had, she agreed, accepting a glass of wine from the minibar. She turned for Hugo to unzip her dress, until she stood for him to enjoy the sight of her in her strapless bra, scrap of panties and stay-up stockings. Her skin burned when he unclasped her bra and slipped her panties free. He stared for a long time at the heart shape the small patch of hair left on her mons was waxed into, and when he raised his eyes to meet hers, they were dark, the pupils blown with lust.

  Alessa shrugged. “I like to experiment, but I can’t make up my mind on a tattoo.”

  “They are a commitment,” he agreed.

  His tone registered. “No!” She approached. “Where is it? Can I see? Undress for me. Wait. That’s enough,” she added a minute later when he stood before her in an undone shirt and tie and boxer-briefs. If he’d had a woman’s name inked onto his skin, she’d put off the knowledge as long as possible. In the meantime, she looked her fill. He must be at the gym every day, she mused, feeling hollow with lust for his strong, toned body, and ashamed of her own haphazard fitness regime.

  “I thought I was in charge?” Hugo queried, gesturing for her to sit and remove her shoes and stockings.

  “What did you have in mind?”

  He curled a hand around her to bring her close and whisper in her ear, his wish making her eyes ping open. “Do you like that?” she whispered, because she did. Loved having a man eat her out from a position in which she controlled where his tongue went and at what speed and how hard, all without saying a word. Men tended not to like a stream of instructions how to bring a woman to climax, she’d found.

  “I like making you come,” he replied, easing out of his shirt, the loosened tie going with it. He finished his wine and lay back on the bed, raising an eyebrow at her.

  Alessa crawled up carefully to rest a knee above each of his shoulders, and before she could lower herself, he pulled her head down, raised his head and shoulders and kissed her. It was as deep and explosive as before, a through exploration. No, more like conquering, she realised, fighting not to touch her lips when he released her. She really wished she’d spent more time at the gym when she leaned back on her heels and used her quads to support her weight.

  “Two things. You don’t come until I say, and you look at me. I want to see you when you climax.”

  Halfway to another as it was, she wanted to pause. This was intimacy, straddling his face and running her fingers through his hair while he looked up at her, his mouth full of her. Most couples took a while to reach anything like this stage, and yet here they were, having only just met, and, oh, God, his hands were hard on her hips, positioning her over his face and he was rimming the opening to her body with his tongue. Alessa quivered, tiny spasms starting up from the sparks Hugo’s tongue made tasting her, licking her.

  She shifted her hips, communicating her need for him to go deeper. He’d said he liked to fuck deep and now he curled his tongue inside her, the tip of it seeking out her G-spot with practiced ease. She had no time to ponder how he’d acquired such experience, not with a tight, hot current rippling through her, making her gasp and moan. He held off for a moment, and only after a second did she understand he was giving her time to come back from the edge—he didn’t want her to climax too soon.

  Instead, he traced the heart design on her public bone with his tongue, his journey one of sensual eroticism, especially when he followed that up with a series of tiny bites, sensitizing and priming the skin at the top of her mound. “God!” Alessa screeched, her voice making her wince, when Hugo insinuated the tip of his tongue around and over her clit, making it stand free of the folds that hid it. And when that pleasure became too much, was about to tip her over, he stopped again.

  “Bastard!” Alessa panted, glaring down at him. In retaliation, he gave a sharp nip at the bundle of nerves his actions had engorged, and she slapped her hand over her mouth to hold in her scream. He gave her a few seconds before tracing the length of her slit with his tongue, making her writhe and wriggle, trying to force him back inside.

  He did, but not in the way she was expecting. He slipped a hand from her hip bone and stroked lower, rubbing tiny circles with his thumb before penetrating her with three fingers, the intrusion swift and shocking and full. He let her ride his hand, head thrown back and hair wild, fucking herself on his thick fingers jammed inside her, never letting up the pressure on the roughened patch of skin on the front wall of her vagina and the torment of his thumb on her clit.

  Alessa realised the series of low, guttural moans was coming from her throat, in time with her up-and-down movements. As the tenor changed and the tight wave gathering inside her threatened to break, Hugo stopped again, reading her reaction, her body, with ease.

  “Do you want to come, Alessa?” he asked.

  “Yes!” she hissed.

  He said nothing,
just quirked a brow.

  “Yes, please!”

  He merely held his thumb still, just barely touching her clit, the nub of flesh he’d made pout and blush for him.

  “Yes. I want to come. I need to come. Please,” she begged, her desire driving her crazy, and at once Hugo bent to her, seizing her clit between his teeth, his nip now an inexorable bite and his lips pulling at her flesh with a strong simultaneous pressure. But it was looking into his eyes as he exerted his mastery over her responses, seeing the play of light, the reflection of his emotions, that was more erotic still and her climax burst over as an unstoppable force, dragging her into the eye of a storm that shook her to pieces that spun into the air.

  And he continued, kept up the torment, using his tongue to drink from her, to lap up the juices she released, to suck her essence, prolonging her free fall, only ceasing when she began to shudder and mewl, never having experienced an orgasm as strong as that before.

  “Hey. I’ve got you,” he murmured, pulling her down to spoon her, one long leg thrown over her, his strong hand rubbing her arm soothingly.

  He’s still wearing underwear, was her final and ridiculous thought as she dropped into an exhausted sleep, cradled to him.

  * * * *

  Alessa woke with a start the next morning, smelling coffee, struggling to sit up on the wrong side of the bed, with the wrong thickness of pillow under her head and the wrong weight of covers over her.

  “You’re at the Hyperion Hotel in the town centre,” came a clipped voice from the direction of the coffee aroma and coffee-making noises.

  “I know!” Alessa snapped, clearing her throat and running her tongue over her teeth. “And I’m Alessa Marks, and you’re Hugo Winters. I don’t have memory problems. Oh, and I wasn’t drunk.”