by Lucy King
‘Flattering,’ she breathed with a faint smile.
‘At this point, desperate.’
‘Same here.’
‘So?’
The flush on her cheeks deepened, her breath caught in her throat and her eyes darkened. ‘Be careful of the dress,’ she murmured and he felt like punching the air in victory.
‘I will,’ he said instead and brought his mouth down on hers once again.
This time they didn’t stop to talk. Hands roamed everywhere, their bodies pressed together tightly; they only broke apart to take in great gulps of air before kissing again.
So hard and tightly wound he wasn’t sure he could stand it much longer, Marcus slid his hands over her hips, down, and then round, delving beneath her dress and finding warm, smooth skin. He swept his hand up her thigh, felt her tremble against him, and then he was cupping the hot centre of her through fine, silky lace.
Celia tore her mouth from his and dropped her head back, letting out a soft moan when he tilted her pelvis up and slid first one finger into her and then another. So hot and wet, so tight, instantly clamping around him as if she intended to never let him go.
He moved his fingers inside her. He stroked. Slid in and out. Found her clitoris with his thumb and teased. And all the while trailing his mouth along her jaw, down her neck and over her collarbone.
She clutched his shoulders and arched against him, whimpering and panting. Her hips jerked and he could feel her tightening around him. And then she moved her hands to his head, yanking it up and pulling it forwards, planting her mouth on his to smother her moan as she came, shaking in his arms, convulsing around his fingers and making him burn with the need to be inside her.
Shudders racked her body and she kissed him wildly as she rode it out, and then she was tearing her mouth away, breathing hard as she grappled with the button of his trousers and unzipped his fly, slipping her hand inside.
The minute she touched him, Marcus lost it, the desperation to bury himself in her as deep as he could overwhelming all logical thought and reason. He reached behind him, searching for the tiny hidden pocket in the lining of one of the tails, in which he’d stashed a condom months ago, which took longer than usual because his hands were shaking so much.
Not least because Celia was thrusting her hands beneath the waistband of his shorts and pushing them and his trousers down. She wrapped her fingers around him and moaned faintly, and he gripped her wrist and yanked her hand away before he exploded. He tore open the packet with his teeth, shook away the foil and, dimly remembering her concern about her dress, whipped her round.
He swiftly rolled the condom on, grimacing with the effort to control himself, then he bent her forwards and positioned her hands wide apart on the back of the bench. He lifted the back of her dress, rolling it up to her waist in the vague, distant hope that that would stop it creasing. He put his hands on her waist, slid them down over her hips. Tore at one side of her knickers, then the other, and the fabric floated to the ground. He pushed one knee between her legs, parting them. And then, holding her steady, he drove into her.
She was hot and wet and tight and felt like velvet, and he felt his self-control unravel.
With a soft groan she arched her back and threw her head back. She pushed back, and ground against him, and Marcus lost his battle to keep this clean. Leaning over her and wrapping a hand in her hair, he brought her head up and lowered his so that his mouth was close to her ear, and he started telling her what he wanted to do to her, how she felt.
She moaned again and mumbled something that sounded a lot like ‘hurry’ and he began thrusting in and out of her, harder and faster, all animal instinct and primitive need, until he could hear her breathing turn ragged, could see her knuckles go white as she clung onto the bench, could feel her tightening around him, squeezing him and wiping his mind of everything but her and the yearning for release clawing at his insides.
The pressure within him built. The heat surged like wildfire. She spread her legs wider, rotated her hips faster and ground against him harder. Then he felt her tense, heard her take a breath, and somehow, despite the haze of desire in his head and the hammering of his heart and the roaring in his ears, he untangled his hand from her hair, whipped it round and clamped it over her mouth a second before she came.
Her harsh, muffled cry and the feel of her unravelling around him shot him over the edge, and, pulling her back, he drove into her hard and fierce, and with a scorching rush of heat and a surge of blinding white pleasure he lodged deep and emptied himself into her.
His heart was thundering so frantically and his head was spinning so fast he didn’t hear the ringing of a phone at first. But he did feel her jolt. Squirm. Shake her head free of his hand.
And it snapped him to. Enough, at least, to figure out the noise was coming from the tiny bag she’d dropped to the ground.
‘Leave it,’ he said gruffly, not wanting to let her go just yet and so strengthening his hold on her.
‘I can’t,’ she said, her voice hoarse as she tried to wriggle out of his grip. ‘It might be important.’
‘So’s this.’ Because for some reason he had the feeling he ought to apologise. Ask if he’d hurt her with his roughness.
‘This is finished,’ she muttered, pushing him back with her bottom and then jerking forwards and freeing herself from him.
Still reeling from the intensity of the experience and oddly weak-limbed, Marcus felt the loss of her heat immediately. But even though he’d like nothing more than to drag her to the ground and do that all over again, although this time face to face and to hell with her dress, what could he do but take his hands off her? Wherever it had been a minute or two ago, her mind was now clearly on the call coming in, and he swore softly because there went the opportunity to apologise.
While Celia hastily shoved her dress down in a way that undid all the care he’d taken with it earlier and then dived for her bag and delved inside for her phone, Marcus dealt with the condom, his mind blitzed. As she turned away and walked off, talking into her phone and clearly not happy about something, he had nothing left to do but think.
For the first time in his life he had no idea what he was going to say once she finished the call. He didn’t have a line. Didn’t have a protocol because he’d never had scorching sex with someone who only about an hour ago had loathed him.
So what happened now? he wondered, watching her frown then throw her hand in the air, frustrated by the conversation. Where did they go from here? Back to the insults? Back to the hostility? A new kind of awkwardness? Or was this the beginning of something different, something faintly intriguing?
Marcus frowned and stalked back, taking a moment to pick up Celia’s knickers, balling them up and shoving them in his pocket because the sight of those in the bin might give the gardener a bit of a fright come Monday morning.
Did he want something different? Something intriguing? He shouldn’t, but did he? Did she? Right now, with his heart still beating fast, his body still thrumming with the lingering effects of his climax and his head a mess, he didn’t have a clue. The only thing he did know was that, whatever Celia might think, this wasn’t finished. Not by a long shot.
FIVE
‘Celia! There you are! Thank God.’
At the voice that rang out behind her Celia nearly jumped a mile in the air and spun round to see Lily, her fellow bridesmaid, striding towards her, although what she was needed for she had no idea because as far as she was aware her bridesmaid’s duties had ended a while ago.
But then, right now she had no idea about anything. Five minutes after what had just happened, what she and Marcus had just done, and she was still totally adrift. Her heart was still thundering, her body still buzzing and, having had less than a minute to think about it, her brain a mess trying to process it all.
How on earth had it happened?
One minute they’d been kissing, the next she’d been shattering first in his embrace, then over the bench, and loving all of it. Aware of her femininity and feeling powerful in a way she never had before, she’d revelled in the intensity, the desperation she could sense in him and the feel of being enveloped and then possessed by him.
And what the hell was that all about anyway? Since when had she wanted to be possessed? Since never was the answer to that because in her opinion being possessed by a man smacked of submission, and submissive was something she’d never been.
But then this afternoon had been full of new experiences. She’d never gone from a kiss to sex and then to it all being over so fast. The whole thing had lasted, what, maybe five, ten minutes? And as for the foreplay and the sweet-talking that she usually enjoyed, well, that had been practically non-existent.
Mind you, perhaps it hadn’t been all that fast. Perhaps there’d been fifteen years of foreplay. And perhaps she wasn’t as into sweet-talking as she’d always thought, because she certainly hadn’t minded the filthy things he’d muttered in her ear as he leaned over her.
But who knew why she’d lost all self-control like that? She certainly didn’t. After two of the most mind-blowing orgasms she’d ever had she could barely think straight, and Lord only knew what nonsense she’d spluttered to Annie, her secretary, who’d been calling about a document that was urgently needed by her boss but was missing.
Anyway, with Lily fast approaching, why what had just happened had happened wasn’t something she had time to consider. Which was actually quite a relief because she had the feeling that it was probably a bigger deal than she was able to cope with right now.
All she could think of doing was wiping the past ten minutes from her mind and applying one hundred per cent of her focus on Lily. So she snapped her phone shut, fixed a smile to her face and tried not to think about the fact that she wasn’t wearing any knickers.
‘Lily,’ she said, sounding mercifully normal even though inside she was chaos. ‘What’s up?’
‘I’ve been looking for you all over the place,’ said Lily with the breathlessness of someone who’d been running. ‘And then your phone rang and I thought I recognised the ringtone.’
‘How lucky,’ she said, although what was really lucky was that Lily hadn’t found her ten minutes ago.
‘What are you doing here all by yourself?’
‘She’s not here all by herself.’
Celia’s mouth went dry and her heart lurched at the realisation that Marcus was behind her. Again. Although this time hopefully fully dressed and not bending over her. Not that she was going to think about him thrusting inside her, how deep he’d been, how good it had felt...
As heat rushed through her and a wave of desire nearly wiped out her knees Celia felt her cheeks burn, silently swore and gave herself a quick mental shake.
‘Oh,’ said Lily slowly, swinging her gaze from Celia to Marcus and then grinning knowingly. ‘I see.’
‘We’ve been chatting,’ said Celia, blushing even more hotly and obviously sounding as guilty as sin.
Slowly returning her attention to Celia, Lily gave her a quick once-over, her gaze lingering on her burning face, her hair that was no doubt all over the place, her crumpled dress and her lack of shoes. ‘If you say so.’
‘I do,’ she said, rallying her strength and shooting her co-bridesmaid a look that had quelled many an argumentative client, but merely made Lily grin.
‘Well, whatever you were planning on doing next,’ she said breezily, ‘you’re going to have to put it on hold because Dan and Zoe are about to leave and there’s a bouquet that needs to be thrown.’
At the thought of that, all heat vanished and Celia stiffened, then groaned, closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose. ‘Oh, God,’ she muttered as the implication of the bouquet-throwing part of the day suddenly struck her. ‘Like I need any more humiliation today.’
‘What’s humiliating about a bunch of flowers flying through the air?’ asked Marcus dryly, sounding so laid-back and unaffected by having just had her over a bench it made her nerves jangle.
‘You wouldn’t understand,’ she said, turning and looking at him and then wishing she hadn’t because her gaze locked on his mouth and all she could think about was those deep drugging kisses and the not-so-sweet nothings he’d growled into her ear.
‘Try me.’
She dragged her gaze up and that was even worse because traces of heat and desire lingered in his eyes, reminding her of what she really was trying to forget. ‘You can’t. You will never have to experience the mortification I’m about to suffer,’ she said, knowing she was going to sound pathetic and wishing she’d just nodded and gone with Lily without saying anything. ‘I’m the only single girl here. Everyone else is married. I’ll have to stand there alone and everyone will be watching. Wait until you see the looks being cast my way—which will range from smug to pitying—and then you’ll see.’
Marcus tilted his head and looked at her intently, as if spotting a crack in her armour and trying to see through it. Not that he’d find anything even if he could, apart maybe from a horseshoe magnet with both its ends quivering in his direction.
‘You’re not the only single girl here,’ he said, rubbing his fingers along his jaw, and she couldn’t help watching, remembering how they’d felt inside her. ‘There’s Lily.’
‘She’s engaged,’ she said, wondering where the hell her inner strength and self-control were when she needed them. ‘Doesn’t count.’
‘Sadly, this is true,’ said Lily thoughtfully.
‘Then I’ll join you,’ he said.
Celia stared at him. What? No. She didn’t need him being all nice on top of the fabulous sex. That really would screw with her head. ‘Sorry?’
‘I’ll join you. Hustle you for the bouquet.’
‘You?’
‘Why not? I’m single. And, actually, technically so are you, Lily, despite being engaged. And while we’re at it why don’t we recruit Kit? That might make it a bit more of a battle.’
‘A novel idea,’ said Lily with a grin. ‘I’ll go and get him. So, are you coming?’
This she said to Celia, who thought that she already had. Deliciously. Twice. In the space of about five minutes. ‘Absolutely,’ she said, wishing she could give herself a good kick. ‘Give me a moment to put on my shoes.’ And find her underwear, regain her composure and exert some sort of control over her brain.
‘Great.’
Celia watched Lily lift her dress and rush off, and muttered, ‘You’re mad,’ in Marcus’ general direction.
‘Probably,’ he said, thrusting his hands in his pockets, at which point his jaw tightened and his dark eyes glittered. ‘You can thank me later if you like.’
Celia hmmed non-committally because she wasn’t sure if his plan was going to make things better or worse, stalked over to the bench and scoured the ground. ‘Where the hell are my knickers?’
‘In my pocket.’
‘Can I have them back, please?’
‘Not really much point.’
‘Why not?’
Colour slashed along his cheekbones as he gave her the kind of smile that suggested he was enjoying a memory. ‘There’s not much left of them.’
‘Oh.’
He tilted his head and his smile widened, becoming wicked. ‘Don’t you remember me ripping them off you?’
Celia bit her lip and felt her blush deepen. She’d been so lost in desire and desperation she hadn’t felt anything except the deep hammering urge to have him inside her. ‘I forget the details,’ she said a little huskily.
‘I don’t think I’ll ever forget any of the details. I think they’ll for ever be burned into my memory. That was hotter than I’d ever have
imagined. You’re hotter than I’d ever have imagined.’
Celia really didn’t know what to say to that. ‘Thank you. And thank you for suggesting the bouquet thing,’ she added, deeming it wise to get off the subject of hotness and the circumstances surrounding it.
‘You’re welcome. But you should know my motives aren’t entirely altruistic.’
‘No?’
Marcus shook his head and looked down at her, his eyes burning right through her. ‘It occurred to me that the sooner Dan and Zoe leave, the sooner we can.’
* * *
He might not yet know it but Celia wasn’t going anywhere with Marcus.
Now that the heat and the recklessness of her behaviour in the kitchen garden had faded, reality had struck with the force of a mile-high pile of legal documents hitting her desk.
What the hell had she done back there? What had she been thinking?
Well, she hadn’t been thinking at all, that much was clear. Because if she had, she’d have considered the fact that they’d effectively been in public. That fifty or so people had been within spitting—hearing—distance. That a dozen security people—thanks to Dan’s high profile and his deep dislike of the press—had been monitoring the perimeters of the garden, on the lookout for gatecrashers and long lenses and possibly even couples having wild sex amongst the vegetables.
If someone had discovered them...
Dear God. It didn’t bear thinking about. Quite apart from eternal humiliation and probably being the subject of rumours for years to come, she could have been fired. Her partnership prospects would have been history. She could have been struck off for bringing her profession into disrepute. Her father would have been beside himself with the knowledge that Marcus had followed up on the suggestion that he sort her out.
And OK, so none of that had happened, but the fact still remained that at some point shortly after walking into that garden with him she’d completely lost her mind. A couple of hot and heavy kisses and she’d abandoned the self-control she valued so highly. For the first time in her life she’d given in to the needs of her body. Without a single moment’s consideration. He’d given her an out, given her a chance to put a stop to things, and all she’d said was, ‘Be careful of the dress.’