Mistress Of The Groom

by Susan Napier

  Jane was appalled by the little thrill of excitement that skittered along her exposed nerves.

  ‘You really were going to do it, weren’t you?’ he observed with a dangerous calm, dropping the tie on top of his crumpled jacket. ‘You were going to sleep with an old man for money.’

  ‘Dan isn’t old,’ she muttered distractedly as she watched him reach for his cuffs. His eyes narrowed and she added quickly, ‘Look, if you’re calling off the deal, that’s OK by me. You can have your damned money back.’

  She fished in her cleavage with her good hand and to her horror came up empty. The cheque must have slipped to one side of her bra while she was trying to wrestle free of Dan.

  ‘It’s your money now,’ Ryan told her, sliding his gold cuff-links into his trouser pocket as he stepped across his discarded clothes.

  Jane backed away, almost tearing the delicate Italian lace as she burrowed frantically deeper. With a silent sob of relief she finally extracted the warm, crumpled cheque.

  ‘Here, take it. I never meant to keep it, anyway,’ she said, holding it out as if it were a talisman that would ward off the dark demon of her wicked imagination.

  ‘Did you not?’ It was evident from the cynical curl of his mouth that he didn’t believe her. He ignored her outstretched hand, his smoky-eyed gaze roaming from her tense face to the ruffled halo of her hair, riding the waves of midnight silk down to the glittering cap-sleeve which sagged off her left shoulder, revealing the emerald-green strap of her bra.

  ‘No!’ Her sticky toes curled into the carpet at the expression on his face as he visually traced the lacy strap down over the creamy upper swell of her breast. The oxygen in the room seemed sharply depleted. Jane gulped a steadying breath, and hitched up her errant sleeve with the hand that held the cheque. ‘You know damned well I was just trying to pay you back for insulting me—’

  ‘I can think of a better way...’ he murmured, his gaze shifting to centre on the rapid movements of her breasts. The flashy little number she wore suddenly felt as if it were made of transparent shrink-wrap. Never had Jane been more conscious of her overblown ripeness!

  Her nerve broke as his eyes lifted back up to hers and his hands moved slowly to the collar of his shirt.

  ‘What do you think you’re doing?’ she croaked as he undid the first button with unhurried fingers.

  ‘Exactly what you think I’m doing,’ he averred softly, moving down to the next button with the same tantalising deliberation, revealing a sliver of bare chest that was sculpted of pure muscle and covered with a fine dusting of dense black hair. ‘What you hoped I was going to do...’

  Jane was belatedly aware of the hushed isolation of the sound-proofed room, the double-locked door barred by his solid bulk. Keeping her attention fixed on Ryan, she tried to edge to her right.

  ‘What I was hoping is that you were going to step aside so that I can leave—’ She broke off, diving for the bathroom, but he was primed for an evasive manoeuvre, faster as well as bigger, his strong hands catching Jane by the waist, reeling her inexorably in towards him as she dug her bare heels into the carpet.

  ‘Liar!’ he accused darkly. ‘This moment has been a long time coming, hasn’t it, Jane? Years, in fact...’

  ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ she panted, twisting in his grip, pushing at him with one fist, handicapped by her need to keep her left hand out of harm’s way.

  ‘The hell you don’t!’ Blue flame leapt in his eyes as he shifted his weight, lifting and swinging her around until her back hit the wall beside the elegant table, trapping her there with his hips while his hard hands slid down and curved over her flanks.

  ‘It’s been there between us right from the start. Unspoken, but always there—this hot, itchy feeling of mutual awareness...’

  ‘No!’ He was stirring up long buried feelings that he had no right to disinter. She lashed out with her bare feet—a mistake, since it enabled him to slip sideways between her scissoring legs and push up against the centre of her body. She twisted her torso, tossing her head wildly so that her hair lashed his face, catching in the slight roughness along his shadowed chin.

  ‘Yes! But we never allowed ourselves to scratch that particular itch, did we, Jane? We politely ignored it and that frustrated the hell out of you. You had the hots for your best friend’s fiancé and because you felt guilty about it you projected the blame back onto me. I was the villain for being the object of your desire, for stirring up feelings that you didn’t want to acknowledge...’

  ‘You flatter yourself!’ Jane choked, denying the shameful memory of her secret obsession. He couldn’t know; no one had known. He was only guessing...

  He leaned into her, letting her feel the thick ridge between his thighs, electrifying her with the knowledge that he was as aroused as he was angry.

  ‘Do I? Is it flattery to feel yourself desired? Did you think I wouldn’t notice the way you vibrated like a tuning fork whenever I came into range, the way you tensed whenever we brushed against each other, the exaggerated lengths you went to to avoid being left alone with me, or spending time with Ava and me as a couple? Oh, yes, you wanted me back then, Jane...I could smell it on you... And you still do—that’s why you came here tonight flashing your long legs and big breasts in that cheap, sexy dress—’

  A glorious rage ripped through her, tearing down the barriers which she had so meticulously built up against him, spilling out years of repressed passion and resentment.

  ‘You crude, egocentric boor—’ She lashed out, striking his iron shoulder with the edge of her fist, jarring her hand open so that the despised cheque dropped into the silk folds of his open shirt.

  His face hardened with savage satisfaction at the betraying fierceness of her response. ‘Sex is crude. Crude and raw and earthy. Isn’t that how I make you feel?’ He looked down and scooped the creased piece of paper out of his shirt, slowly rubbing it over his mouth and nostrils. ‘Aah, yes...that’s just the way I remember it—the unique aroma of Jane Sherwood, the ripe scent of warm, succulent breasts...’

  She was suspended in shock by the sheer primitiveness of his actions as Ryan inhaled deeply, his eyelids drooping over eyes that glowed with sensual appreciation. Her breasts began to tingle as if they were being expertly fondled, and a delicious heaviness condensed in her lower belly.

  ‘But I know you have an even headier feminine fragrance for me to breathe, don’t you, sweetheart...?’

  Holding her hostage with his lambent gaze, he reached down, easing his hips briefly away from hers just long enough to slip his hand under the hem of her dress, boldly cupping the cheque between her legs. Jane cried out, her eyes flying wide as he spread his fingers, smoothing out the slick paper against the fragile barrier of sheer tights and thin panties. He began to move it delicately back and forth, setting up a tantalising friction that made her head swim and her loins ache with sweet, savage yearning.

  Past and present flowed together in a confusion of images. This was Ryan ravaging her senses, sacking the secrets of her soul, plundering the treasures of her closely guarded heart...

  ‘Stop it!’ she groaned, her will to resist melting away like mist in the sun as her forbidden fantasies came to life.

  His triumphant laugh acknowledged the feebleness of her protest. ‘Make me!’

  He crushed her mouth beneath his, parting her lips and thrusting into her moist heat, his hand continuing to move between her thighs in a teasing rhythm that created a wave of exquisite sensation so intense that Jane was swept over the edge of sanity. Heat exploded throughout her body and she clutched at Ryan in a spasm of pleasure, the arm that had been pushing him away sliding around his neck, her back arching, her hips writhing uncontrollably.

  Ryan lifted his head, drinking in her panting moans.

  ‘You’re wet for me already, aren’t you, sweetheart?’ he muttered hoarsely, scraping his fingernail along the centre of the dampened cheque, increasing the pressure of his fingers so that he coul
d trace the length of the intimate feminine folds that were plumping out the paper. ‘Wet and wild to know what I’m going to feel like pushing up inside you...whether I’m going to be as hot and hard as I am in your fantasies...’

  Jane shuddered, helpless to deny the clamouring needs of her body. Nothing in her limited sexual experience had prepared her for such a violent seduction of the senses, such a ruthless gratification of her desires.

  ‘Oh yes, baby, you’re ready for it. Let me show you how much...’ His fingers rotated knowingly against the tight bud of nerves that wept for release. Jane bit off a tortured gasp and his voice roughened against her throat. ‘No, you don’t have to hold anything back, not any more... That’s right, moan for me, Jane...let me hear how I make you feel...’

  She lifted her hips to help him as he hooked his fingers into the sides of her tights and pushed them roughly down her legs, along with the flimsy emerald panties that matched her bra.

  ‘Get rid of them,’ he growled as the underwear caught around her ankles, and she obeyed, kicking them away along with the cheque that curled unnoticed amongst the tangle of nylon and lace. With a savage grunt of satisfaction he drove her back against the wall again, his tongue plunging deep into her mouth in a graphic imitation of the ultimate intimacy to come. His hips rolled against hers, the blunt outline of his manhood tormenting them both with the reminder that she was now nude under her skirt.

  The dark bloom on his jaw rasped like fine sandpaper against her tender cheek as Ryan angled his head to delve once more into one moist crevice of her mouth, his hands raking up her sides to tug at the tiny cap-sleeves, pulling them down her arms until the overstretched fabric caught at her elbows.

  With a last swirl of his tongue his lips broke away and he looked down at her breasts—lush, quivering mounds, almost overflowing the low-cut emerald bra.

  His nostrils flared at the erotic scent and sight of her opulent curves. ‘I used to wonder why you smothered yourself in those boxy power-suits. Did you think they hid the fact you had large breasts? Believe me, all it did was make me fantasise about doing this...’

  He dug his fingers into the outer edges of the lace cups and peeled her out of them like firm, ripe fruit, leaving the ruffled lace straps and underwiring to form a supporting frame for her swollen fullness. Her darkly engorged nipples jutted towards him, starkly prominent against the smooth milky-white flesh. He rubbed at them with his thumbs until they grew even darker and visibly throbbed, then he weighed her generous breasts in his palms, encircling them with his fingers and massaging them with a languid milking motion that drove her wild for more.

  Her hand sank into the short, spiky softness of his hair, tugging pleadingly, and he responded instantly to the silent demand, lowering his head and using long, slow strokes of his tongue to lubricate the stiff pink peaks before taking them in his mouth, nipping and sucking with a greedy enjoyment that made her ache to give him equal pleasure. She struggled impatiently to free her trapped arms and he helped her, unclasping her bra and tossing it away as her dress fell to her waist. In some vague, still functioning part of her brain she knew she couldn’t manage his remaining shirt buttons one-handed, so she tore it open, uttering a husky laugh when she heard him curse.

  She had never felt so free and unfettered. There was no burden of expectation hanging over her head, no pass or fail, no sense of responsibility for her reckless actions. All Ryan wanted from her was passion, and that she could provide in glorious abundance!

  He shrugged out of the shirt, staring hungrily down at her enlarged breasts, still wet from his mouth, as they scraped against his bare torso. His magnificently taut chest was slick with sweat, and when she ran her hands over the velvety-soft mat of damp hair and touched the flat olive nipples Ryan’s fingers dug into her thighs, grinding her against his rigid shaft as the breath came tearing out of his lungs.

  ‘Do it! Use your tongue...suck me...I want to feel your mouth on me,’ he urged thickly, and she obeyed, discovering the true extent of her own power as his big body shuddered in her arms.

  His flavour was salty, tangy, exotic, and the taste of pure, unadulterated male was like another high-potency drug injected directly into her frantically pumping heart. Desire ran thick and rich through her veins as he dragged her head back for another soul-wrenching kiss.

  His hands began to move up her thighs, inching the hem of her dress up over her nakedness until he was cupping her bare bottom, kneading the firm rounded globes as they clenched with the frantic seeking motions of her hips. The slip and slide of the expensive fabric of his trousers against her burning core was exciting yet unbearably frustrating, and Jane whimpered, reaching blindly for his belt.

  ‘Wait!’ he bit out against her ear. He sank to his knees and she felt the heat of his breath hazing through the soft thicket at the apex of her thighs—and then his mouth, his tongue...and the world dissolved in a mist of thick, creamy delight. Only when he had driven her to the very brink of shivering ecstasy did he rise to his feet to kiss her again, blending the erotic flavours of male and female on her tongue. Her hands slipped from the burnished steel of his shoulders to the smooth suppleness of his strong back, loving the sleek striation of muscles, the straining tension rippling beneath his burning skin.

  With a swift economy of movement he pulled her bunched dress up over her head and unclipped her ruffled bra. ‘Now...wrap your legs around me,’ he ordered, his voice shimmering with leashed sexual force.

  He was going to take her right here, standing up! Stinging curiosity whipped her excitement to new heights and Jane stroked a thigh teasingly up his powerful flank before she hooked her knee over his hip-bone. His hands curved under her bottom and splayed along the back of her thighs, hitching her higher against him as she wrapped her other leg around his waist. He threw his head back, his spine arching to support her weight as he moved in quick, rapid thrusts against her.

  His chest crushed her swollen breasts as he pushed her flat against the wall so that he could free one of his hands, but instead of dealing with his zip he dipped his finger into her moist heat and stroked the tiny hood that sheathed the secret pleasure centre of her female being. Splinters of exquisite sensation radiated out from his touch and she cried out, beating helplessly on his shoulders as she realised what was happening.

  ‘No, please—not like this—’ Not alone. She didn’t want to be alone. She wanted him to be part of her, filling her with his glorious strength, not dominating her with his superior self-control and leaving her feeling empty and incomplete.

  ‘Yes, like this...’ His mouth was hot on her throat as his ruthless finger brushed the tiny sheath again...back and forth, over and over, delicately spreading the pearly essence of her desire, knowing exactly where to touch and how to send the quicksilver thrills of liquid fire spilling into a raging torrent of uncontrollable bliss. She sobbed, the edges of her vision darkening as she hurtled helplessly into the unknown, towards some far-distant uncharted star, a powerful supernova that finally consumed her in a burst of brilliant light and radiant heat, leaving her weak and trembling with the rippling aftershocks of the violent implosion.

  Giving her no time to recover, Ryan spun around, detaching her clinging arms and legs and tumbling her on her back across the shadowed foot of the bed. Her limp arms outflung on the royal blue bedspread, Jane lifted her head to watch with glazed eyes as he stripped off the rest of his clothes and felt in the pocket of his trousers for a condom, which he donned with a boldness that would have made her blush if she hadn’t been so fascinated by the fierce urgency of his movements.

  Every part of him was constructed to the same, massive scale, Jane realised with a frisson of awe, instinctively drawing her legs together. He grabbed at her slender ankles, pulling them apart as he braced his knees against the edge of the bed.

  ‘Don’t worry, nature has taken care of our proportions. You’re a big girl, Jane...you’ll be able to take every inch of me,’ he promised in a dark throaty purr as his
fingers tightened on her ankles and he lifted them, dragging her lush body towards him, his possessive gaze lowering to the dewy glistening on the layered petals of her femininity.

  ‘You’re so aroused that coming into you is going to be like gliding between hot satin sheets...sexy, smooth and deliciously slippery...’

  He let her feet fall on either side of his thighs and knelt forward to brace himself above her supine body on bulging arms. Jane felt the tip of his jutting manhood brush against her stomach, and in her violently overstimulated state the fleeting caress, combined with the carnal frankness of his words, set off another series of small explosions inside her that obliterated the vague stirrings of caution and conscience. Her voluptuous body undulated shamelessly on the bed, a pale splash of rose-pink flesh against the sumptuous royal blue cover.

  Her lips curved into pouting fullness as she looked dreamily up at the man who had caused her so much pain but was now promising her unlimited pleasure. And she believed him—just for this one night she could have it all... all her hurts healed, her fantasies realised and her lonely dreams fulfilled...

  The sultry self-satisfaction in her seductive smile made Ryan stiffen, the fierce urgency of his expression hardening, a savage suspicion that he was being manipulated adding a dangerously predatory edge to his lust. He came down on top of her with all the finesse of an invading conqueror, carving a path deep inside her with a single surge of his powerful hips.

  The physical discomfort was momentarily intense, swiftly superseded by the incredible sensation of herself stretching and then tightening around the aggressive invader, absorbing him impossibly deeper into her body in a series of fluttering internal contractions that made Jane sigh with contentment and Ryan utter a steamy curse. He buried his face in the hot curve of her throat, his hands contracting on her strong hips, forcing her buttocks deep into the mattress in an effort to keep her still, but she could no more control the instinctive rotation of her pelvis than she could the stars wheeling in the heavens.