Secret Confessions: Sydney Housewives - Darla

by Tracey O’Hara

  She could do this. How hard could it be? Right? The coffee had been a breeze. Toast, bacon, eggs and pancakes, that’s what American men liked. That shouldn’t be too hard.

  Should it?

  Forty minutes later Darla scanned the disaster zone that was now her kitchen. She’d changed into a pair of cut-off denim shorts and a t-shirt. Now, pancake batter not only covered her, it coated the benches, floor and somehow she’d managed to get on the ceiling too. No one ever told her how far one of those electric beater thingies could spray shit. The pancakes themselves didn’t look much better. She’d followed the recipe she found on the internet, but somehow she’d managed to burn the outside yet pancake batter still oozed out of the centre and onto the plate.

  Maybe just bacon and eggs then.

  At least she hadn’t screwed up squeezing the orange juice, though there were only a few inches in the glass. What was it about this man that made her want to get all domesticated? To squeeze oranges instead of pouring it from a bottle? To cook? To take care of him? She’d never been the housewife type before.

  Darla ignored the mess and picked up the juice. On the landing she stopped dead. Hunter stood on her back lawn leaning forward as he ran the hose over his head and shirtless torso. O.M. motherfucking G. Another movie slow mo moment needed if ever there was one. The sight froze her to the spot. The water coursed over his head, washing away the sweat and wood pulp. Then he ran it over his chest, soaking into the top of his jeans. The top button was undone and they rode low on his hips. The abdominal muscles formed a perfect V disappearing into the waistband of those jeans.

  She had never seen anything so beautiful in all her life. Desire hit her hard right between her legs, her heart did that strange little flip flop dance and at that very moment he looked up catching her watching him.

  Her jaw had to be hanging open, but his face broke into a smile that changed him from handsome to beautiful. That was the only word for it. Then he winked and all hell broke loose.

  A piercing repetitive beeping jolted her out of the spell. She dropped the glass in surprise and it shattered on the terracotta patio tiles. She pressed a shaky hand to her mouth and stepped back, reeling in confusion. A stabbing pain shot through the heel of her bare left foot. She flinched and crouched, grabbing her ankle.

  Then Hunter was suddenly there, sweeping her up into his arms. Knight in shining armour or what?

  ***

  She weighed next to nothing and felt good in his arms as he carried her into the house. Hunter could get used to this. Smoke hung in the air. Somewhere a smoke alarm screeched continuously. He set Darla on a stuffed chair inside the door.

  “The kitchen,” she said with a worried look on her face. “I think I left the bacon on the stove.”

  Sure enough, flames shot up from a frying pan on the stovetop. Hunter picked up a tea towel and tried to beat the flames out. Darla was right there behind him, despite his telling her to stay put. She picked up a pitcher of water and went to throw it over the fat fire.

  “No,” he yelled, just in time.

  He spied the container of salt on the counter beside the cooktop and dumped it all on the burning pan. The flames extinguished immediately, though the smoke alarm kept right on beeping loudly. Hunter turned the range hood fan above the stove onto full. Soon the air began to clear and finally the smoke alarm went silent.

  Darla stood on one foot. Blood dripped onto the white tiled floor to join a couple of other crimson droplets already there. Hunter swept aside some of the mess on the kitchen counter and sat her on the marble top.

  “Let me see that,” he said, gently wrapping his hand around her ankle and lifting her foot. A sliver of glass wedged into the heel, but it didn’t look too bad or too deep. “Do you have a first-aid kit?” he asked.

  “Sure, in the downstairs bathroom cabinet. Under the sink.”

  Hunter backed up and pointed a finger at her. “Stay right there this time.”

  “Okay,” Darla said, smiling. Pancake batter spattered her shirt, flour smudged her cheeks and blood continued to drip from her cut foot. She was a complete mess, and yet he’d never seen anything more beautiful in his entire life. His heart contracted and so did his dick. Fuck. He was in way deep now.

  The red satchel with a large white cross sat in the top shelf under the vanity. He grabbed it quickly and raced back to the kitchen. She had managed to sweep a clean spot beside her on the bench and he laid out the open kit beside her.

  Hunter pulled the large sliver of glass out with a pair of tweezers, then bathed the cut with an antiseptic wash and dressed it with a bandage.

  “You’re very good at that,” Darla said, watching him wrap the bandage around her ankle then under her foot.

  He gave her a smile as he fastened the white bandage with a double claw clip. “Get plenty of practice teaching nippers to surf. Lots of broken bottles and shit on the beach these days.”

  “You teach kids?” she asked, her face softening.

  “Sure, every Saturday over the spring and summer months we run a surf clinic for underprivileged kids. It’s one of my charities.”

  She tilted her head and frowned.

  “What?” he asked, getting worried.

  “I know plenty of people who give money to charity and talk about the good work they do, but very few actually get their hands dirty.”

  “I don’t get to every clinic,” he said uncomfortably, not wanting make her think he was bragging just to make a good impression. “Sometimes my company commitments—”

  Darla reached out and laid her palm against his cheek. “How many Saturdays have you missed this summer?”

  “Three, I guess.” He shrugged. His cock woke at her touch.

  “Three in six months.” Her smile softened, making her more beautiful than ever. “I never really thought of you as a philanthropist.”

  He grew harder and grinned. “But you did think of me.”

  “Oh yeah,” she whispered, blushing again. “Especially when taking a bath.”

  Last night she’d answered the door in her robe, fresh from a bath and looking hot and flushed. Was she thinking of him then? Touching herself, maybe? Fuck, that was hot. His cock went rock hard. Hands down the sexiest thing he had ever heard.

  “Then why did it take you so long?” He repeated the question she’d asked him the night before.

  She bit her bottom lip. “I was hardly your type. You seemed more the carefree playboy type, dating models and beach bunnies.”

  He laughed out loud. If only she knew how much his type she really was. He’d dated them because they never wanted anything serious from him.

  She blushed, turning away from him with a frown.

  “Hey,” he said. “What I mean is most of them worked on ad campaigns or promotions for Surf Hunter. It was easier for me to meet them. But very few of them would’ve known the word philanthropist, let alone what it meant. Or looked as hot as you do right now.” Hunter leaned in and planted his hands on either side of her hips as he claimed her lips.

  Her thighs parted, allowing him better access, and he took advantage. Covered in batter and crap, she still smelled amazing. And tasted even better. Her lips were full and soft. Built for kissing. He imagined them wrapped around his dick. He closed his eyes and bit back a groan.

  Darla wrapped her legs around his hips, pressing his cock against her pussy. She rocked her hips, rubbing herself against him and making him harder as she kissed him. She knew exactly what she was doing.

  The minx.

  He couldn’t get seem to get enough of her. Usually he got bored with a woman after the first couple of times. But not with Darla. The more he fucked her, the more he seemed to want her.

  He moved his mouth down to her throat, drinking in her unique sweetness. Her head dropped back to give him better access, her breath growing ragged. God she tasted good. He licked a patch of dried pancake batter. He quickly swallowed the overly salted mixture.

  There. He’d found her fl
aw. The woman couldn’t cook for shit.

  It only endeared her to him more. She moaned when he tongued the indentation at the base of her throat and moved his hand to her waist, pushing up the bottom of her t-shirt so he could get to the soft skin beneath. She rocked harder against his cock, sending an almost painful shiver up his spine. His trapped cock ached to be free.

  He ran his hand up her side until he reached the swell of her breast as he moved to nibble her earlobe. She wasn’t wearing a bra beneath the shirt. His fingers traced the line of her ribs just beneath that silky skin and pushed up the weight of her breast. So fucking perfect.

  Darla arched her back in response, pushing her roundness into his hand. Jesus. He had to get that shirt off her.

  He braced his hips against her and lifted the hem. She sat forward, her legs still wrapped around him and raised her arms so he could pull the shirt free. Then Darla wrapped her arms around his neck, her naked breasts mashed against his bare chest. He let out an impatient growl. His zipper felt fit to burst right out of his jeans.

  She held his stare and grinned, reaching between them to slide his zipper down. She watched him with an intensity that both warmed and excited him. He almost came when she wrapped her fingers around his length. He closed his eyes and fought to keep control.

  Hunter traced his fingers down her spine and buried his hands under the waist of her denim shorts. She wasn’t wearing panties either. He pulled her closer, kneading her arse. If she kept tugging at his dick like that it’d be over before he had the chance to bury himself inside of her.

  He gently pushed her back, laying her on the counter. Her hair spilled like a dark auburn waterfall over the edge of the benchtop. The cut-offs were a little loose on her, which made them easier to undo. As he slid the zipper down he traced over her mound with his fingers. Her breath hitched and her back arched as he slid the denim over her hips.

  Fuck she was beautiful. Her ribs stood out above her flat stomach and erect dusky peaks topped her smooth rounded breasts. His mouth watered to taste them, but he was dying to plunge his tongue into that hot, tight crevice between her thighs.

  He bent to run his tongue over her slit and pushed her thighs wide so he could reach that nirvana hidden between her lips. The first taste of her fed his need for more. He flicked her erect nub above her opening once, sending a tremor through her.

  He flicked again and groaned against her folds as her thighs twitched uncontrollably beneath his fingers. Hunter continued to work her clit, alternating between that and delving his tongue deep into her opening. He could feel her getting close. Her thighs tensed, her hips arched, her hands buried into his hair as he worked her over the edge.

  As she came, she screamed his name. He loved his name on her lips as much as the taste of her on his.

  She rested her weight on her elbows, her eyes shining with moisture as she panted, trying to catch her breath. “In my shorts. Condom. Please. I need you in me. Now.”

  “Should I feel cheap that you were so ready for me?” he asked.

  “No, I…” her flush deepened as she looked him, stricken.

  He smiled and reached into his own jeans pocket and pulled out the wrapped condom he’d grabbed earlier. She relaxed and kicked playfully at him.

  He tore open the packet. Her face broke into a relieved grin as he pushed down his pants and rolled the latex over his painfully hard cock.

  Darla bit her lip, watching as he guided the head into her, then dropped her head back with a moan. He took it slow. Savouring the tightness of her pussy surrounding him. He moved out just as slowly.

  “Please,” Darla begged, as she looked through hooded lids.

  He growled and granted her wish. Grabbing her hips, he thrust forward, burying himself to the hilt. He withdrew just as quickly and slammed into her again and again. With each thrust, Darla gasped. She lay back with a shuddering sigh on the counter again, giving him better access. Hunter lost himself in the rhythm while he stroked her clit with his thumb.

  Her tight cunt pulled at him as she tilted her hips to meet each of his thrusts. Then she came, again, screaming. God he loved that she was a screamer. Her contractions sent him over the edge and he thrust, once, twice and then a final third time, spending his seed before he collapsed on top of her with his cheek against her chest.

  “You know,” she said between breaths, stroking his hair. “We really should use this kitchen for something other than fucking.”

  “As long as it isn’t your cooking,” he replied with mock seriousness. “I’d rather live.”

  “Deal.” She laughed, making her breasts jiggle deliciously.

  His cock twitched. Would he ever get enough of this woman?

  ***

  Warm kisses trailed down her spine, his favourite way to wake her. She tried to cover her smile and groaned, “Go away.”

  “Get up, lazybones,” a warm deep voice growled in her ear. “It’s late afternoon. I’ve ordered Chinese takeout and we only have time for a quick shower before it gets here.”

  She rolled over onto her back and cocked an eyebrow at him. “We?”

  “Well yes, it’s good for the planet, conserving water resources and all that. I told you this last time.”

  She arched her back and stretched, knowing full well it drove him crazy. He didn’t disappoint and lunged at her. She laughed as he rolled her on top of him, his erection pressing against her thigh as he claimed her mouth.

  The doorbell rang. They stilled.

  “That was quick. I only rang about fifteen minutes ago.” He rolled them over, lifting her legs to his waist and cradling his long hard length against her core. “You stay right here, I’ll go get the food and we’ll have a bed picnic.”

  She wiggled seductively against him, rubbing his erection with her pussy. “Again?” she asked, smiling innocently. They’d been doing just that for the last couple of days.

  “Yes, again,” he growled. With one last kiss, he leapt up and bounded out of the room before she had a chance to say anything else.

  “Darla,” he called out a minute later. “I think you had better handle this.”

  She frowned, and threw on his t-shirt that lay at the end of the bed before going downstairs.

  Hunter stood at the door wearing only a pair of black trackpants slung low, just the way she liked them.

  “What’s the matter?” she said, coming up behind him and slipping her arms around his waist. “Don’t you have enough cash on you?”

  “Not for this,” he said.

  She looked around him and sobered. Virginia stood on her doorstep looking her usual cool and perfect self. Beyond her stood a van with a couple of what looked like catering staff. Virginia raised an eyebrow in surprise as she cast a cool glance over Darla’s dress, or lack thereof.

  “Shit,” Darla said, her heart sinking. “Is it Thursday already?”

  “That would be a yes,” Virginia said and looked pointedly at Hunter. “I really hope I am interrupting something.”

  “As a matter of fact—”

  “Wait.” Darla stopped him before he could say anymore. “Go upstairs and I’ll get this sorted out.”

  Hunter turned her to him, buried his hand in her hair and leaned down to give her one hell of a kiss. A kiss that claimed her as his. He looked once more at Virginia before he turned toward the kitchen.

  Virginia pushed the door open and watched with clear admiration at his retreating form, and then turned to her. “Darla, darling, I totally approve.”

  Darla’s cheeks heated. “I’m really sorry, Virginia, I just totally lost track of time.”

  Virginia held up one finger then reached into her handbag, pulled out her phone and dialled. “Nella, it’s Virginia. There’s been a change of plans for the Double D’s. Darla and I are swapping nights. Can you help me to ring around and let the girls know it will be at my place tonight?”

  Darla waited in silence, her heart beating fast. Was Virginia really letting her off the hook?


  “No, she’s fine. Very fine from what I see. Let’s just say we probably won’t be hearing any more tales of dating woe…yep, I’d say she’s been well and truly laid several times… No, I think she found this one all on her own. I would’ve definitely known if I had Hunter Davis on my books… Let’s just say if I were her and I had to choose between a Double D dinner and what I’ve just seen in all his male glory, you girls would all starve… See you at my house.” She hung up the phone and turned to Darla. “You owe me big time.”

  “Yes I do.” Relief stole through her. She looked forward to tonight alone with Hunter. Darla kissed her friend on both cheeks with gratitude.

  Virginia smiled and gave her a wink. “Coffee. Next week. And I want all the gory details. I mean all of them.”

  “Promise,” Darla said as she waved goodbye.

  She shut the door and Hunter grabbed her around the waist from behind, pressing his erection against her back. “All the gory details, hey?” he asked rubbing his lightly bristled chin against her shoulder.

  “You weren’t supposed to be listening.”

  “I just wanted to make sure you sent them away. I have plans for you.”

  “They’re well and truly gone.”

  “Good. Now we should go upstairs and work on those gory details for your friend.” With that, he swept her up into his arms and gave her a light kiss on the end of her nose.

  You’ve just finished Darla in the Escape Publishing Secret Confessions: Sydney Housewives continuity. I hope you enjoyed it!

  If you’d like to know more about this series, there is a reading order page at the beginning of this book, or you can visit the Escape Publishing Website, www.escapepublishing.com.au.