London Lace #1

by Catou Martine

  He leaned in closer, his finger trailing down between her breasts. His blue eyes were locked on hers, and that gaze, combined with his words, unhinged her. She couldn’t think straight. She couldn’t think at all.

  His lips were drawing closer to hers. She closed her eyes as his skin brushed hers, just a caress at first, and then those lips, wine-sweet and with her scent still on them, pressed into hers. His lips gave way to the shape of her mouth, molding around her, and she yielded to him, until the pressure, giving and taking, at first soft and gentle, then harder and more desperate, called up a deeper hunger in them both.

  Their tongues probed each other’s mouths; two tongues twisted and danced and fought, and soon her hands were in his hair again, pulling his face more firmly to hers, and he was pulling her robe from her shoulders, climbing onto the bed and over her. He cupped her tits, one in each palm as he ravished her mouth, cheeks, chin. Her fingers slid from his hair to his unbuttoned jeans. She pulled, but there was nowhere for them to go while he straddled her legs. She undid the remaining buttons of his jeans, felt his straining erection, rubbed her hand along its length, desperate to free it. He moaned, and she did, too, but this time with frustration.

  She put her hands on his chest and pushed, pushed him off her, away from her, next to her on the bed. She pinned him and straddled him. He tried to sit up but she held his arms. He smiled, stopped fighting her, and watched her atop him, silk pooled around her hips, nipples taut. He reached for them again, pinched them gently between his fingers, and then not so gently. She felt a sharp sensation rocket down to her pussy. She pulled back, just out of reach. On hands and knees, she worked her way down toward the end of the bed. His fingers caught in her tangled hair as he tried to draw her back up to him. She shook out of his grip, grabbed the waist of his jeans at his hips and pulled. He lifted slightly to make her job easier. She slid to the end of the bed, stood, and yanked at the denim from the ankles. His jeans crumpled into a pile at her feet. He lay there now like she had been a little while before.

  She said, “Now I want to see you.”

  He had on boxers, steel grey and slightly shimmery. She leaned forward to touch…

  “Silk?”

  “My secret luxury.”

  “I wonder what other secrets you have, Mr. Montgomery. Sir.”

  "I don't like to be called that."

  She stroked the long, thick shape mostly hidden beneath the grey silk.

  "Do you like this?"

  "Yes."

  The tip of his cock, pink, smooth, and mouth-wateringly round, poked out of the band. A bead of clear liquid glistened and slid onto the skin near the shallow depression of his navel. She ran her tongue lightly along her top lip while staring straight into those deep blue eyes that wouldn’t look away from hers.

  He said, “You just might have the power to make me give up all my secrets, Miss Keating.”

  She slid between his knees, her fingernails trailing up the insides of his thighs. He breathed in deeply.

  “One by one I’ll draw them out of you,” she said.

  “And how might you do that?” His voice was husky now. Her fingers traveled up his right leg and slipped beneath the hem of silk. Her fingers clasped the tender skin of his sack. His eyes rolled back in his head for a moment before he locked gazes with her again. His balls were warm and taut from his straining cock, which seemed to be trying to reach up to his ribs. She wanted to feel those balls between her lips, but she wanted to feel something else there too.

  She crawled higher, leaned over, and kissed his left nipple. Warm and sweet. Her tongue flicked and swirled, then she nipped him lightly with her teeth. He gasped. She did the same to his right nipple. He tried to pull her hips toward his, but she resisted, keeping herself stable on her knees as she used one hand to slide his luxurious silk boxers down enough to reveal what she so desperately wanted to see, touch, taste and smell. She hadn’t touched there him yet. There was one part of her body she wanted to touch him with first.

  Her tongue slid along the ridges of his abdomen, traversed the dip of his navel, and stopped at the moist tip of his throbbing head. Her tongue slowly circumnavigated the half sphere. He sighed and tensed beneath her, straining toward her mouth. His hands were in her hair again, trying to guide her. She firmly pulled his hands away and held them down to the quilt spread. She looked up at him, shaking her head.

  She said, “You had your way with me. Now it’s my turn.”

  “Oh Eliza, there are so many ways I’m going to have you. That was just the beginning.”

  “And this is your beginning.” When it seemed he wasn’t going to fight her anymore, she let his hands go. They stayed on the bed. Satisfied, she indulged in a long lick down from the head to the base, pulled each ball into a whole mouth kiss, and then wrapped her hands around the shaft of his cock. For a second she just held tightly, not moving, and he looked at her, waiting, tensed and ready. She smiled at him, loosened her grip, tightened it, and then brought her mouth, wide and hungry, down to that beautiful smooth curve of skin. She took him deep into her throat, her hand driving the shaft as deep as it could go before she started gagging, and then she slid him out, keeping her lips tight against the emerging skin. His hips jerked toward her with the sudden sensation. First the heat of her throat and then her breath blowing in a fine line of cool air along his length.

  He said, “Good lord. Where did you learn to that?”

  She gazed across his belly. “Some men ask where, but most just want me to do it again.”

  He nodded vigorously. “Please.”

  She did. A half dozen more times. By then his cock was covered in her saliva and throbbing for more speed and pressure. Wet and slippery from her mouth, he slid smoothly between her hands, and she pumped him hard and fast as her tongue lapped over the head, its ridge, and the sensitive bumps of fine skin just underneath.

  His hands were in her hair again, but gently, so she didn’t reprimand him. When he gripped harder, trying to still her motion, she slowed down, sucking and licking lightly.

  “You’re driving me wild.”

  “That, Sir, is the point.”

  "I told you. I don't like to be called Sir."

  But Eliza like saying it. "Usually, you don't. But there's nothing usual about this, is there?"

  He flexed his abs, pulling himself to sitting. “Come here.” He pulled her hips toward his stomach. She had to unbend her knees and wrap each one around him. Her pussy was drenched and dripping and it slid against his middle with its warm, wet kisses.

  "Call me whatever you want," he said. “I’m delirious with you.” He took one of her nipples in his mouth and sucked. He pulled away a bit and flicked it with his tongue. Then he bit gently. Her pussy surged again, and she could no longer ignore the fact that his thick and ready cock was wedged between them. She slid her clit along his shaft, making herself dizzy with pleasure.

  “You like that?” he whispered before taking her other nipple in his teeth.

  In answer, she slid up and down, only her pelvis tilting back and forth, while she held his shoulders and leaned back slightly. His balls were just under her ass and they felt so good there, warm and wet and soft. “I could come like this,” she whispered.

  He put one hand on each ass cheek and drew her pussy tighter to his cock and helped her move along his length. “I could come like this,” she said again. “But I want to feel you inside me. I want all of you inside me.” She stopped moving and looked into his eyes. He seemed wide open, hungry and giving at the same time, attuned to her pleasure and aching with his own.

  “Yes,” he said, more of an exhale than a word. “In my jeans. The pocket. My wallet. A condom.”

  She was on the pill, but this was their first time. They should be safe, but even as she thought it, she knew she had already crossed into a danger zone.

  She lowered herself slightly so that her weight was on the bed. Her knees open over his, she was wide open to him. They looked at each other
for several moments.

  “Touch yourself,” she said, as she slid two fingers along her clit. He watched her. Didn’t take his eyes off her. She took his hand, brought it to between his legs, their legs. He wrapped one hand tentatively around his cock near the top, close to the head.

  “Do it like you like it.” She swirled her fingers around her pussy. She was so wet from having had him in her mouth, and rubbing against him, and now this. This intimate private gesture. She moaned with her own pleasure and slid two fingers inside herself.

  He watched her. Amazement and desire in his eyes. He stroked himself faster. “God, Eliza, what are you doing to me.”

  “Don’t stop,” she said. “And don’t finish without me.”

  She slid one leg over and twisted so she could get off the bed. She watched him. “Keep going,” she encouraged. She bent down to search the pockets of his jeans. She bent from the waist, away from him, so that he could see her wet slit. He growled with pleasure. She found the wallet, the condom in an inside pocket. She didn’t linger over questions about how many he might carry, or how often. There would be time for thoughts, and talks, like that later.

  There was a movement on the bed. He was shifting, sighing and moaning. He hadn’t finished without her, had he? Before she knew what was happening she felt his tongue drive into her exposed opening. She nearly fell forward, but with one hand, he held her hips steady. He pulled her to his face, burying himself there, lapping voraciously. Her legs trembled with a building climax. When he fingered her, she thought she might collapse right there. She ripped open the condom, stood, wobbling slightly, and turned.

  He lay upside down on the bed. “Climb over me and put it on.” She moved to one side to do just that. “No. Right over me. I need to taste you again.” She put a knee on either side of the bed. He lifted his head slightly to suck at her folds. She melted at the touch of his tongue, started quivering and shaking, but she moved past him quickly, straddled his stomach facing away from him and pulled the condom over his length. With her clit pressed against his stomach she feared she would come too soon. She wanted to come with him inside her.

  With the condom on, she flipped around so that she was straddling him and facing him again, with his head still at the end of the bed. She lifted up slightly and guided him into her, slowly at first. He was opening her, opening her up to his size and his heat and his desire. His hips rolled forward, trying to go deeper, but she was in charge of the progress. She lifted a tiny bit, so that he slid back. He moaned and reached for her nipples, twisting them both at the same time.

  She worked her way down his full length. When their pubic bones met, she stilled herself, looked deep into his eyes, and smiled. He matched her smile, his blue eyes boring into hers, that look of pain again, at the edges of his gaze. He grabbed her hips with both hands and pushed even deeper into her, though they were already bone to bone. “Eliza,” he whispered. And then he closed his eyes, tilted his head back, and started rocking his hips.

  She let herself be rocked, then she extended down over his chest to put her hands on either side of his face and she kissed him deeply. His tongue wrapped around hers. His hands left her hips and she felt his fingers in her hair, pressing her face hard into his, their lips the only tender meeting place, while his hips bucked under her. She came up for air, kissed his neck, his chest, and sat upright again. She ground against him, an orgasm rising like a tsunami from deep within. She rode him in arcing, undulating motions until her knees were weak. He thrust harder and faster, his breaths ragged. She let him lift her hips and drive her down against him faster and faster, harder and harder, and she knew he would explode soon, deep inside her. She felt her orgasm sharpening, focusing, building to such an intensity, her eyes started to squeeze shut. She tried to keep her eyes open, to look at him, as he stared at her, but the sensations were too overwhelming.

  Then his thumb slid across her hip and over her pussy until it pressed against the nub of her clit, and she cried out, high-pitched and abandoned, blind with pleasure and rocketing into some ether world. He was with her, panting and moaning. He held her tight to him while she rocked and swirled in her own private ecstasy. She felt him tense, heard his breath catch in his throat, and then he burst with a last deep thrust, and then another not quite so deep, and another, followed by a shudder and a deep tender sigh. She balanced on top of him, her waves of pleasure gently rising and receding, as he continued to pulse and slowly soften within her. She curled back down to his chest, kissed his throat, his ear, his temple, his chin, finally his lips.

  They held each other until their combined heat cooled and their breathing slowed. Then she eased off of him and passed him some tissues.

  He balled up the condom and tissues. She watched him, feeling sated and relaxed. She was glowing from the inside out. She wondered, would he stay?

  He got up, searched and found his boxers. He also picked her silk robe.

  He laid it on the edge of the bed, and then he sat beside it.

  Was this the goodbye? It was a great night, sweetheart but I’m not the type who spends the night.

  He looked at her, looked at the bed. “What side you sleep on?"

  She smiled. “The middle.”

  “Me, too.” He matched her smile.

  “You know I can be pretty stubborn.”

  “Me too.”

  They looked at each other.

  “I could try to be less stubborn,” he said.

  “Me too.”

  They curled up in the middle of the bed, two spoons equidistant from the edges.

  Eliza woke to the sounds of strumming harps. She was alone in middle of the bed. Her bed. And the harp sounds were coming from her cell phone in her purse in the other room. She looked around the room and sighed sadly. She was alone. The harps stopped and then a moment later they resumed. Someone was trying to reach her. What time was it? She sat up. Oh, God. Stella! She was supposed to meet Stella this morning. An hour ago. But then last night…

  She hugged her knees to her chest. Oh, god, last night. The insistent strum of harps grew louder, more insistent, and seemed to be drawing closer.

  “Someone besides me is desperate to get a hold of you.”

  Todd strode through the curtains with her purse in one hand and a steaming mug in the other.

  “You’re here?” She stared at him. He was shirtless, wearing his blue jeans and no socks.

  “Where else would I be?”

  She shook her head. “I don’t know. You’re so…There’s so much I don’t know about you.”

  He smiled. “And do you want to find out?”

  She nodded.

  He took a sip from the mug, but didn't offer her any.

  “Tea,” he told her, when he saw her staring. “Your coffee is percolating and should be ready any second.”

  Her phone started strumming again.

  He said, “Answer that first. I’ll be right back.” He headed back toward the kitchen.

  Eliza answered the call. “Stella? I’m so sorry. I slept in.”

  Stella said, “Are you as hung over as I am?”

  Eliza whispered into the phone. “Stella, he’s here.”

  “Who?”

  “Todd Montgomery.”

  “The rude guy?”

  “He came over. Spent the night. He’s making me coffee right now.”

  “Spending the night and making you coffee in the morning? Not the guy you described yesterday.”

  “I know. You were right about them, by the way. Rude men. That passion part.”

  Stella laughed. “All right. Shopping for the silk selections can wait. But you have to tell me everything later. Enjoy your coffee, Eliza…” She was snickering as she hung up.

  Eliza set down her phone, smiling. Todd came back to the bed looking sexy, handsome, and imminently kissable. He handed her a mug of coffee and kissed her on the forehead.

  “Miss Keating,” he said. “Have you ever been to the races?”

  “No,
Sir, I haven’t.” She'd never been, but if her racing heart was any kind of indicator, she was going to have to get used to speed if she wanted to keep up with this man.

  This is the first story in a planned series.

  Show the author some support by posting a review, or liking the Orly Press Facebook page.

  Check out other great titles at www.orlypress.com.

  Catou Martine

  London Lace #1

  Mimi Strong

  Borrowed Billionaire #1 #2 #3 #4 #5

  Her Teddy Bear #1 #2 #3

  The Ice Cream Shop Boy #1

  Why Not Tonight? #1 #2

  Two Hot People Had Sex (as Gordie MaGuire) #1

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  Table of Contents

  The Blind Date

  Drinks With Friends

  A Gentleman Caller