Whispers of Winter: A Limited Edition Collection of Winter Romances

by Nicole Morgan

  She didn’t. Oh, not because she was too busy, although she did scribble a few notes as to who won and why—she’d have to get the hand-out from the Chamber of Commerce’s media liaison later. No, her concentration was shot from the second Hugo put a hand on the small of her back, to guide her to the table. His touch pulsed through her, and her leg tingled from where it rested next to his as they sat. She was oblivious to the décor of the ballroom she’d been in several times, and couldn’t have said what dishes she ate, although the gala menu tended not to vary overmuch.

  Instead, she felt as though she was burning up, cocooned in the small shared space they made sitting at the end of the table, where her breasts were heavy and straining against the tight bodice of her dress, and her nipples hard points. Alessa was almost glad when Hugo left for a few minutes, reappearing as she was talking to Mario, someone’s date. She shifted to Hugo as he retook his seat, longing for him to touch her. The host’s words caught her attention.

  “Who here is a rented gentleman?” It was obviously a joke and several men raised their hands, including the pot-bellied, bald-headed senior chairman of the Chamber and half the committee at the top table, to laughter and applause. “Because that’s what this nominee for the New Innovation Award is all about!”

  He prattled on about the company introducing something new within the industry, while continuing to strengthen the regional economy. People were whispering to Xander, patting him on the back, and Hugo came in for his fair share of looks and nods too. Alessa frowned. “What’s the Ubermensch dating app?” she enquired.

  “Tell you in a minute,” he replied, standing, as did Xander, when their names were called, and the room rang with applause. Alessa’s mouth dropped open. Whyte’s Gallery had already won the Contribution to the Community Award, for their showcasing of local artists—seemed it had a few strings to its bow. She looked around at the nudge on her arm. Mario was showing her his phone, with the app in question on the screen, for Alessa to read about the cultured, intelligent, well-read, charming, attractive, and attentive gentlemen for hire to women needing an asset, not an escort, for an event. She gaped further. Hugo?

  “Not me personally. I’m the business advisor,” were his first words as he took his seat again. “And Xander’s the owner, whose brainchild it was. And now you’re looking around the room with new eyes, aren’t you?”

  She was, indeed. At Hugo, too, from eyes that shone with increased desire, if that was possible. And though he remained charming and witty company, a delight to be with, it was all on a strictly hands-off basis. Nothing for it—she’d have to make the first move.

  She remembered her mother saying recently, as they’d watched a news report about sexist behaviour, that in her day, a hand on your knee had signalled that the man sitting next to you was interested, and you simply flicked the hand away if you weren’t. And if you were? Alessa had asked. Her mother hadn’t answered, just blushed. Hmm. Well, presumably times had changed a little, and men were generally thought more obtuse than women…

  Alessa placed her hand on Hugo’s thigh, rubbed her knee against his and twined her foot around his ankle for good measure. Hugo jumped a little, his fork skittering on his plate. A cold wave washed over Alessa. Had she misjudged? Misread? Then a dark, intent gleam shone in Hugo’s eye.

  “Do you intend that to mean what I think you do? What I hope you do?” His question was asked softly amidst the clatter of silverware and the noise of chatter. In reply, she removed her hand from his leg to take his hand and place it on her thigh, ruching her skirt up with it, leaving it bunched where his fingers rested, heavy with promise. He stilled, his lips twisted with an emotion she couldn’t decipher, then looked across the small table.

  “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 deep 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 realized 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 toward 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 to shout out her employer’s name during sex. 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 action. 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 firmly 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 t
hem around her shoulders. “Nice surprise,” he commented, running a finer 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 ass. 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 to 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. The heat rushed to her pussy and nipples, and she wanted to grind on him, both assuaging the ache and feeding 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 to spanking, hitting first one ass 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, prolonging her torment, ratcheting it, until with a quiet, “now,” he pulled the lace hard across her clit, scraping the bundle of nerves. Alessa’s climax roared up through her, releasing liquid heat to soak his fingertips, and he wasn’t even touching her. She cried out and dug the nails of one hand into his ankle—all she could reach. His fingers pushed into her, sudden, shocking, rubbing and stroking, prolonging her convulsions. He was deep now, riding 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. Her ass 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.

  “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 rested his hand at 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 head, scooping up the bubble of liquid she’d been eyeing, letting his flavour coat her tongue. Breathing in through her nose, she swirled her tongue over his shaft, learning his feel and size. When she tickled her tongue tip into the slit, he hissed.

  “I like to fuck deep.”

  She raised her eyes to his at his words, and what he saw in her gaze made him pull her head into him and push 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 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 terribly 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 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 he
r 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 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 your 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 like to fuck deep and now he curled his tongue inside her, the tip of it seeking out her G-spot with what she understood to be 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 a moment to come back from the edge—he didn’t want her to climax too soon.