His Girl Friday

by Ellen March

  “Shit, shit, shit!” Sally yelled in frustration. Blaming Roman for the mess, she dropped to the floor on her hands and knees and started collecting the scraps. She guessed she’d be working into yet another night.

  * * *

  Roman had spotted her blonde head at the window and grinned when he’d caught her peeping. Then he heard the window slam shut.

  Over the last few days he’d seen little of her. She seemed to be hibernating in the office, doing everything there, bar sleeping. He wondered how long she could keep it up. She was stubborn, he’d discovered. He decided to pay her an impromptu visit.

  Roman stood at the door to the office, looking around for her. The room was a disaster zone. He stared in amazement at the amount of paper scattered over the floor. The dogs were flat-out sleeping so he knew she couldn’t be far. “Sally!” he yelled, when suddenly he heard her scream.

  She’d been so engrossed in collecting the papers that she hadn’t even heard Roman come in. She was wedged under the table and was just reaching for the last piece that had somehow managed to find its way there when he yelled. Jumping up, she forgot how low the table was, and smashed her forehead. Instinctively she put her hand up and felt the hot stickiness trickling down.

  Slowly she crawled out from beneath the desk, her head spinning from the crack she’d given it.

  “Jesus Christ, Sally, what the hell have you done now?” He strode over to her and pushed her down into her seat. Then he studied the ugly gash across her forehead. Bright red blood streamed down her face.

  “It’s your fault. You made me jump,” she muttered accusingly, feeling her head thump. A shooting pain flashed through it, and she winced.

  “Come on, let’s get you to the kitchen. There’s a first aid kit there.” Taking her arm, he pulled her to her feet. She weaved unsteadily. “You okay to walk?”

  “Yeah, when the floor stays still.” She took an unsteady step forward. Her legs gave way and she sank to her knees, only to find herself staring at his crotch. Roman cursed and swept her up into his arms before striding purposefully towards the kitchen, the dogs trotting behind.

  “Put me down. You’ll have blood all over your shirt,” Sally said.

  “To hell with my shirt,” he snapped, then paused mid-stride and glanced down at her. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to shout at you.”

  “It’s okay. I’m getting used to it now.” She closed her eyes at the sight of a crimson stain spreading across his chest and felt him sigh impatiently.

  “Marilyn, get me the first aid kit,” he called, before placing Sally carefully on a seat and making sure she wasn’t going to fall off.

  “Oh my word, what have you done to her?” the usually unflappable cook shrieked, clapping her hands to her cheeks in horror. She stared at the two of them, both covered in blood.

  “I haven’t touched her. She banged her head!” he shouted, furious at the unfair accusation. He turned his attention to Sally whilst Marilyn pulled herself together and rummaged for the first-aid kit.

  “Come here,” Roman said, “let’s check out the damage.” Kneeling before her, he pulled her glasses off. “Here, hold these. They’re in the way.” He dropped them into her hand and bent her face up so that her eyes met his.

  Roman found himself staring into the most beautiful eyes he’d ever seen in his life. They were a vivid green, fringed with heavy, dark lashes. He thought back to that night at the pool and knew why he hadn’t been able to forget her. He’d only had one glimpse ….

  “Well, do something?” Her voice broke his trance and galvanized him into action.

  Marilyn stood beside him holding a basin of tepid water as he gently dabbed at the cut, wincing every time Sally did. He was thankful it wasn’t as deep as he’d originally thought, and guessed it could have been the heat that had caused so much bleeding.

  “You’ll live,” he said, and carefully placed a dressing and plaster over it.

  “Sorry to disappoint you.” The words were out before she could think. His smile faded and was replaced by a guarded expression.

  He chose to ignore her comment, rising to his feet. “I think you should go up and have a lie-down. You’re going to have one hell of a headache.”

  “Too late. I’ve already got one.” She gently probed at her dressing.

  “What the hell’s going on here?” Paul wandered in and stopped dead in his tracks when he saw them.

  “Before you say anything, I haven’t touched her.” Roman held his hands up and threw Marilyn a disgruntled look.

  “Well, it was partially your fault. You shouted at me.” Sally was determined not to let him get away scot-free.

  “I was calling your name.” Though trying to keep calm, he spit the words out in a temper. Tugging at his ruined jacket, he stripped it and his shirt off, oblivious to his semi-naked state. Sally put her glasses back on. The last thing she wanted was to be caught ogling his body.

  “Shouting, not calling,” Sally muttered, getting the last word in.

  “Here, take these, then get to bed.” He handed her a glass of water and two tablets and watched in disbelief as the glass slid between her fingers. It crashed to the floor, shards splintering across the tiles.

  “Sorry,” whispered Sally, still holding her tablets. She was afraid to look up at Roman.

  “Marilyn, order some plastic tableware tomorrow,” he said quietly. Then he startled Sally by picking her up. “And you can take those with a plastic cup in your bedroom.” He carried her up the stairs.

  Marilyn and Paul stood by in silence. Both gazed at the smashed glass then at each other before they burst out laughing.

  * * *

  Roman laid her on her bed. Taking in the room, he noted that tidiness didn’t rate highly with her. Her clothes were scattered around the floor. resembling a jumble sale. “I’ll get that water.”

  Sally hadn’t spoken. She was appalled to have broken yet another object, yet she was enjoying the close contact with Roman. She wished he didn’t affect her the way he did. After smelling his skin, she’d had the crazy desire to run her hands all over him. She wondered what he’d do. Drop her, more than likely.

  “Here, take these and sleep it off,” he ordered gruffly, suddenly appearing beside the bed. Sally swallowed some of the water and threw back the tablets.

  Taking the mug from her before she spilled the water, he hesitated. “Paul tells me you like the horses,” he eventually said. For the first time in his life, he wasn’t sure of himself, and he didn’t like it one bit. Always in charge, he felt at a loss, and this clumsy owl of a woman with a body to die for was the root of his problem.

  Sally frowned and wondered why he asked. “Very much, especially Facet.” Her face lit up.

  “Well, I don’t want you going near him. He really is unpredictable.” He softened his words with a smile. “But how would you like to learn to ride?”

  Sally eyed him suspiciously. “Why?” Turning onto her side and leaning on one elbow, she was unaware of how her shirt draped to one side, revealing a plump, cream-colored breast.

  Roman tried not to stare, but he couldn’t help himself. “Because I want to make it up to you, show you I’m sorry,” he admitted honestly. Roman wished she’d hurry up and say yes, because he could feel his treacherous cock responding to her. He was getting one hell of a hard-on.

  The seconds ticked by as she chewed her lip, debating whether he meant it or was just looking for an excuse to kill her off. Eventually she nodded her head. “So when do we start?” She shifted slightly, and a dark pink nipple peeped out.

  Fuck, where’s your bra?

  “How about tomorrow afternoon?” Roman’s voice was hoarse. He could almost taste her. He desperately wanted to run his tongue over her nipple, suckle on her. Draw it into his mouth, feel her body against him, her soft breast in his hand ….

  “That will be nice.” Relaxing back into her pillow, Sally watched him turn and wondered why he had such a pained expression.

  *
* *

  It was late morning by the time Sally woke. Squinting at her watch, she was surprised to see it was almost eleven-thirty. Obviously Roman had given instructions to let her sleep, because there had been no hammering on her door. She flung back the sheet and stepped out onto the wooden floor.

  Staring at her reflection in the mirror, she carefully pulled the dressing off. Though cursing the plaster that stuck to her skin, she was glad all bleeding had stopped. Only a small blue bruise was evident. Apart from that, she felt fine and looked forward to her first riding experience. She wondered what to wear—not that she had much choice—and rummaged through her clothes.

  * * *

  “How are you feeling?” asked Paul, as she wandered into the kitchen.

  “Right as rain today, and guess what?” she squealed, almost bouncing on the spot. “Roman is taking me riding,” she shrieked in excitement, wishing the butterflies that circled and battered against her stomach would settle down.

  “I heard.” Paul laughed, glad that Roman had taken his advice. Another first, he noted. He was still convinced that Sally was the girl for Roman.

  She made a face, disappointed that Roman had ruined her surprise. “Any pastries left, Marilyn? I’m starving.”

  “Help yourself.” Marilyn indicated the fridge. “Warm it up if you like.”

  “No, this is fine.” Sally munched on the succulent pastry, wishing she could bake. There were only two things she could do well. One was typing, and the other was belly-dance, and what the hell use that was she didn’t know. But her Turkish friend had insisted she learn, and it seemed she had a flair for it.

  “I’m glad you and Roman are getting on better,” said Paul, gazing into his empty cup of tea. “He really is a nice guy when you get to know him.”

  Sally raised an eyebrow. “I’ll reserve judgement for another time. Let’s just see if I can survive this lesson.” She still didn’t know if she should have agreed to go with him, given his comments about her.

  “He’s with the horses now if you want to go out to the barn,” urged Paul, determined to push them together.

  “Okay, catch you later.” Sally swallowed the nervous excitement that racked her body and made her way up to the top field. Perspiration trickled over her, and she wished she’d worn something else. The sweatshirt she’d thrown on over her thin, strappy vest was retaining the heat. She could feel the moisture gathering beneath her breasts, and she cursed their size, wishing they were small and delicate instead of the size of bloody melons.

  * * *

  Roman was in the paddock with the mare he’d picked out for Sally when he saw her struggling up the hill towards him. He wondered if she had any common sense as he took in the heavy top she wore, despite the blazing sun. Obviously not, he conceded.

  “Hi, how’s the head?” Even from beyond the wooden fence, he noticed the faint tinge of a blue bruise that would probably turn yellow in a few days.

  “Okay, but it’s my stomach now. I’ve got butterflies,” she admitted sheepishly, kicking at the dusty ground and scuffing it with the toe of her battered trainers.

  “You’ll be fine. Come on through and let me introduce you.” He closed his eyes when she clambered over and almost fell as she jumped to the floor. “Hey, careful.” Roman put out an arm to steady her. He was beginning to wonder how she’d managed to survive for so long.

  Sally walked hesitantly up to the grey mare. Her dark mane was long and wavy, and her ears flickered curiously. She gave a soft nicker, and Sally gently stroked her head, breathing in the scent of horse and hay. “What’s her name?”

  “Felix.” He leaned back against the fence and watched Sally, noticing the high colour on her face. “And before you get up on her, you need to take that sweater off. You’ll be passing out from the heat, otherwise.”

  Sally hesitated, not wanting to think about what she wore beneath it. She wished she’d put on a bra, but then realized he was right. She lifted her arms and pulled her sweater off over her head.

  Roman wished he hadn’t said anything.

  He stared wistfully at the thin, white top barely covering her. It clung to her huge breasts like a second skin. Her nipples were clearly visible, beckoning and teasing him.

  “Ah, that’s much better.” Sally revelled in the slight breeze coasting across her bare arms. Then she turned to Roman with her hands on her hips, her chest stuck out enticingly. “Well, what’s first?”

  Gazing at her, Roman wished his dick would listen to his brain. He untied the mare and led her into the centre of the paddock, waiting as Sally walked nervously up to him, looking expectantly at his face.

  “Hold the reins just so.” He took her hand and weaved the reins between her fingers, surprised at the smoothness of her skin. Roman wondered if the rest of her body felt the same. “Now turn and put your left foot into the stirrup and pull yourself up.” He placed a hand beneath her backside, giving her a helping hand. She landed on the saddle and almost went over the other side, but Roman caught her in time.

  “It’s a long way down,” she said nervously, relieved that Roman was still holding the mare.

  “We’ll start with a gentle walk around the paddock, so you can get used to it.” He slotted her other foot into the stirrup. “Now sit up straight, deep down into the saddle.” As she thrust her chest out, he wondered how he was going to get through the lesson.

  Half an hour later, Sally was sitting happily on the mare, wandering around the paddock by herself. Roman’s hooded gaze followed her, confident she couldn’t get into any trouble as he quietly watched her.

  Christ, he wished he could hold her breasts in his hands! He imagined tracing a path down her chest with his tongue. His arousal was obvious, but she was too preoccupied to notice, allowing him to give his randy thoughts free rein.

  Suddenly a bird swooped down, chased by a hawk. The mare startled and leapt to one side, whilst Sally went to the other. With a screech she crashed to the floor.

  “Fuck,” cried Roman, cursing the fact that he’d been day-dreaming about having it off with her instead of keeping an eye on her. “Are you all right?” He checked her body, which quivered on the dusty earth, and turned her over carefully.

  Sally burst out laughing. “That was great! One minute on the horse, next the floor.” She giggled up at him. “And your face is a picture.”

  “You could have been hurt,” Roman growled, growing more convinced by the second that she had no sense whatsoever. Grasping her hand, he pulled her roughly to her feet. Too roughly, because she cannoned into him. His arms slid around her automatically.

  Sally looked up questioningly, her laughter dying away. She wilted beneath the heat of Roman’s body.

  “Remember what I said about a blind man?” he whispered, his mouth so close to hers she could feel his warm breath. He pulled her hips tight against him, and her eyes widened in disbelief when she felt his erection hard against her. “Now do you believe me when I say I didn’t mean it?” His lips were close, almost brushing against hers. “I want you, Sally. I want to make love to you.” His tongue flicked out and traced a feathery trail across her lips. “What does that tell you?”

  Sally couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. There were feelings going on inside her body she’d never experienced. “That you’re desperate?” She was afraid he was teasing her, and it would be one huge joke.

  His hand slid around her waist and upwards to gently squeeze her breast. He gazed into her wide, shocked eyes and recalled Paul’s words. Was she truly a virgin?

  His lips touched hers, soft as the kiss of a butterfly’s wings. Roman’s whole body trembled with need for her, screaming for release. But he knew he couldn’t have sex with her in the middle of a dusty paddock like a rampant stallion, much as he’d like to.

  The sound of Paul calling his name broke the spell, and Roman reluctantly dropped his hands, steadying her when she almost fell against him. “Later, sweetheart, I’m going to make love to you,” he promised. I’m go
ing to fuck you till you can’t walk.

  Sally couldn’t wait, and she definitely couldn’t speak. For once in her life she was stuck for words, and had the crazy urge to say, “Yes, please.”

  Chapter Eleven

  “Tell Paul I’ll be down as soon as I’ve unsaddled Felix.” His dark eyes slowly melted over her body.

  “Do you want me to help?” Sally was unsure what to say to the man who had just promised to shag her senseless.

  “No,” he said, smiling regretfully. “You’re too much of a distraction.”

  “Oh?” That was a definite first. She’d never been called that before. She picked up her sweatshirt and tied it loosely around her waist before climbing over the fence. This time she fell over the side with a loud humph. She picked herself up, dusted off her bottoms, and went to meet Paul.

  Roman shook his head. He’d heard her grunt as she hit the ground. Glancing round, he saw her rise to her feet. Then he began unsaddling the mare. He glanced down at his hand, which still shook. He couldn’t understand his body’s reaction to her, and it scared the hell out of him.

  But he wanted her with a sweet itch that wouldn’t go away.

  Tonight he intended to take her.

  * * *

  Paul watched her bounce down the grassy slope towards him and grinned, imagining Roman trying to keep his hands off that pair. Assuming he had, he thought to himself.

  “Well, how did it go?” He dug his hands into his tight pockets, the material straining across the front of his pants.

  “Brilliant.” The smile on her face was radiant.

  “So, when’s your next lesson?”

  They walked together towards the house.

  “Oh, I forgot to ask. I had sort of an accident,” she admitted sheepishly, debating how much to tell him. She’d never had a gay best friend before. “I fell off.”

  “So?” Paul waited. He knew Roman too well.

  “He picked me up … and he said he wants me.” The colour flooded her face. “So I asked him if he was desperate.” She frowned and turned to him. “He’s only teasing me, right?”