by Billy London
He held up a hand. “Put the pad down, Dr. Sarpong.”
They were both quiet for a moment then both launched into speech. She apologised.
“What were you about to say?” he offered. Well that made a change. Josh would have talked right over her.
“I don’t normally do this. You know. Sleep with strange men.”
He grinned. “I’m not a strange man. I know your dad.”
“Yes, but I didn’t know that when we… You know.”
“Fucked?” he said with that cutting honesty. “Does it matter?”
“What you think of me? Yes. As the man who is roasting a chicken for us. I’m hoping you won’t under-cook it as an excuse to get rid of me.”
He chuckled. “I’m not that subtle. If I wanted you to leave I’d have called you a cab from the gates before I pulled my jeans up. I have a feeling you’re saying this because you’re wearing a come-stained dress and you smell like sex.”
She rubbed the back of her neck in embarrassment. “Thanks.”
He blinked slowly, then moved from the counter. “Come with me.”
They walked to a room two doors from the kitchen to open a huge oak door into what seemed to be a walk-in wardrobe twice the size of her bedroom. “There should be something in here that fits. My mum and sister were sent shit loads of things from all sorts of companies. Just go through that door on the right and there’s a shower.”
Oh God, a shower would be the most amazing thing on earth. “Okay, thank you.”
He gave her the briefest of kisses, his eyes not leaving her own for a minute. It was oddly intimate. Her face blazing with heat, she waited until he left the room and closed the door behind her before she had a languid look through the wealth that was all designer clothing. Speed and modesty made her pick out a Chloe jumper and some 7 For All Mankind jeans. She could do without a bra and was happy enough that there were clean knickers for her to wear.
Unable to shake the sneaky suspicion Auden knew exactly where her thong had got to, but wasn’t giving it back, she shed the dress and stepped into a shower the size of her bedroom. What was that? Johnsons? As long as she was clean who cared? There was some e45 and she noticed some Chloe perfume as well. Auden hadn’t mentioned where his mother and sister were so she put the perfume down. No Rebecca incidents here.
Pushing up the sleeves of the jumper, she padded in her bare feet back to the kitchen. The smell of the roast comforted her. It was almost like being at home. Auden glanced up at her and smiled. He looked just as clean, wearing a bright white T-shirt and jeans, his hair slightly darker from an obvious wash. “Feel better?”
“Much.” She leaned on the bar and said brightly, “What do you need me to do?”
“Either make a salad, peel some parsnips, or start on the stuffing.”
“That much?” she muttered. “Fair enough, I’ll get my hands dirty with the stuffing.”
He grinned. “Stuffing.”
Childishly, she swallowed her own laughter. “Who taught you to cook?” she asked, as he passed her a tube of plain sausage meat and some bread.
“My mum,” he admitted, peeling the parsnips. “She had a feeling I’d end up in a tour bus and I should learn how to look after myself so I wouldn’t get food poisoning.”
“What’s your favourite?”
“I’m a man. I don’t have favourites, I have food.”
“Rubbish,” she announced. “Everyone has favourites.”
“All right then. Dirty fried chicken from one of those shops that seem to be every other business in south London.”
“I don’t go south anymore.”
“Where do you live?”
“Angel.”
He mocked a posh voice, “Oh does one? Does one attend Saddlers Wells, or does one get plastered?”
“One doesn’t really drink.”
“You gave it a go yesterday. Why don’t you drink?”
“Why don’t you?” she countered.
He inclined his head. “Touché. You need an egg?”
Do I? “Yes, please.”
He cracked one open onto the sausage meat and breadcrumbs. “I don’t drink because it fucks with my voice and my writing. You?”
“I don’t drink because I don’t like what I do under the influence.”
“What do you mean?” He asked as he tapped herbs into the bowl.
She quite viciously squished the meat between her fingers. “I lose control.”
“Being the recipient of you losing control, I don’t think it’s a bad thing.”
Nice compliment, but it didn’t change simple facts. She rolled the stuffing into balls and Auden passed her a ready greased tray as he added butter to the potatoes and parsnips. He put them all in the oven along with the chicken and glanced at the time.
“What do you want to do for an hour?” he asked mildly as she washed her hands.
“I should really go back to see my sister—” She nearly jumped as his hands cupped her waist and he pressed his body to her back.
“In an hour?” he asked, his lips brushing her ear, warm fingers sliding under the hem of her jumper. “Definitely something more interesting we can do until then.”
Chapter Eight
“I just had a shower,” Helena murmured, reaching for a towel to dry her hands. She couldn’t really make the situation worse and he did have very talented hands.
Auden’s mouth trailed along her neck. “I don’t ration them, love, you can have another one. I promise.”
Gently turning her around, he caught her by the waist and sat her on the counter. She caught the gleam of satisfaction in his violet eyes before he lowered his mouth to hers. Her body bloomed with heat. That kiss. That dangerous kiss. It lulled her into him, their bodies moulding together as if locking into place. Pulling him closer only intensified the heat surrounding them.
He wasn’t at all her type. Her type didn’t have a gallery of artwork all over their bodies. Or hands callused from who knows what—oh lord, that felt good—that roughness over her flesh. He kissed her harder, his torso concrete hard against her unbound breasts. Her type definitely didn’t have long hair that felt softer than rain, and no way would they even think about fucking her in broad daylight in the middle of a kitchen.
He reached at the collar of his T-shirt, pulling the offending material over his head. She stroked the tips of her fingers from his wrist to his pectoral muscles, tracing memories of pain on inked skin. His nipples stood to attention at her touch, sending a jolt of surprising lust to her core. She could have imagined it, if he hadn’t trailed his large palms over her jean clad thighs, tugging her close again to nibble on her neck. The flex of the same muscles against her said loud and clear that he was completely reacting to her touch, taste, and scent. His thumbs rubbed rhythmically at the hollows above either side of her pelvis, sending shudders along her spine each time his thumbs hit just the right spot.
I’m way too hot, Helena thought, and too dressed. As if he heard, he eased back all of one inch to yank the borrowed jumper from her torso and throw it across the kitchen with impatience.
“Better?” He palmed both breasts with an alarming possessiveness. “No, you’re still warm.” Dazed, she glanced down to see where he was getting his information, and noted that her nipples weren’t quite erect.
“They’re lying,” she blurted.
Auden laughed softly, touching his lips to hers once, then again harder. “Let me do something about that.” Reaching around her, he scrabbled through the various jars and bottles that sat in their own little island. “Ah. Truth teller.”
“What is that?” she demanded, her legs still hooked around his naked waist. He unscrewed the bottle and dabbed a few drops onto his palm. Swiping his thumb through what looked like oil, he slowly circled her nipple with the glossy liquid. Mint infused the air, pinching her nostrils first, then heating her nipple. He blew gently over her shiny skin and she sucked in a gasp as her nipple puckered instantly, a freezing sensati
on contrasting with the bubbling heat.
“Much better,” he agreed, lowering his head to take the same nipple into his mouth, breathing cooler air onto her before burning her with his tongue.
Oh this is bad, Helena thought, unable to stop her hands spearing through his hair while he laved attention onto her breast, then transferred the same attention to the other. The man had no idea who she was, and yet he was loving her as if he’d done so a thousand times before.
“More?” he asked, raising his head to allow her access to his mouth and his now mint flavoured tongue.
Her returning kiss was his answer in all honesty. There was an impatience to his actions as he unbuttoned her jeans, dragged them over her legs and threw them to join the jumper in some corner of the kitchen. The panties suffered the same fate and the beautiful man in front of her gave such a sigh of satisfaction at her nudity a smile lifted her features. His palm, still slick with the mint oil, covered her pussy entirely. The growing heat that came from the mint, tingling her into a swollen mass of nerve endings that existed simply for his touch as he rubbed in slow, excruciatingly slow circles.
She was going to scream if he didn’t do something, the burning between her legs not just the fault of the mint, but the need to feel him on her. Taste me. Put your mouth there and just taste…
Auden swooped down to lick the mint away. Each small patch of skin burst into life at the stroke of his tongue, the brush of his lips. She curved her legs over his shoulders and rested back on her elbows. Oh that was even better—now she could push his face against her nether lips, making him take more. The burn needed satisfying and there it was. His hands tightened on her thighs, yanking her closer to bury his face even further between her legs. He sounded as if he was enjoying a Michelin star meal, driving his tongue deeper inside her. She gave a long, sustained groan of delight as the orgasm seized her, burning hot and ice cool all at the same time.
Helena untangled her legs from his shoulders, he skimmed the hair from his eyes and looked up at her. It wasn’t enough; she needed so much more. Pulling him against her, she nudged the waistband of his jeans downward. He obliged, and they were around his ankles in a split second. Standing once more at his full height, his fingers curved beneath her bottom, pinching in command for her to be right on the edge of the counter, her legs open and inviting him to take what he wanted.
She gave a tremulous cry the moment his cock sank deep inside her. Already close to that wonderful spiralling edge, it took only a few rough thrusts to push her over once more.
“You feel so good.” She bit down on his shoulder. Her voice vibrated with the force of his penetration.
“You feel even better,” he said in a low, rough voice. His hands braced firmly at the base of her spine, made her meet each divine thrust in her pussy. The kitchen was quiet, bar the hum of the fridge, the tick of the oven and the raw sounding slaps as their flesh connected over and over in primal need.
“You’re so quiet, love,” he teased, hooking his arms under her knees and lifting her from the counter, still impaled on his cock. “Do I need to get CCTV in here?”
“Give me something to talk about,” she challenged, curling her hands about his neck to kiss him.
“Accepted,” he laughed softly.
Lowering her carefully to lie on the floor, without breaking their connection, he managed to kick his jeans from his ankles. Slowly, he slipped from her. She spread her thighs invitingly while he knelt before her, wriggling against the slowly warming wood at her back. He seemed mesmerised by the sight of their joining, his hands pressing her knees to the floor, the head of his cock nestled between her swollen labia. No one had ever made her feel this way, like a completely sexual being that he couldn’t help but to serve.
“Don’t you think you deserve it?” he asked, a frown marring his forehead.
“Oh, I do now,” she breathed, catching him by the shoulders and pulling him on top of her. His stomach pressed firmly to her own, he brushed the length of his body on hers, triggering another bout of sensation in the mint on her clit. Her nails dug into his muscles, urging him to move. His obedience was all her pleasure, as his hips punched against her own, his cock sliding smoothly within the depths of her pussy. Holding her knees firmly apart, he kept her wide open, plunging in rapidly.
“Uh, harder,” she begged.
“Show me,” Auden growled. “Show me you want it.”
Fair enough, she thought with a siren’s smirk. Taking him completely by surprise, she turned him to his back and straddled him like he was her favourite pony. She clenched his waist with her thighs, and his eyes flared open.
“Carry on,” he taunted. Helena squeezed him with her inner muscles. His groan was loud, adding to her triumph. With her fingers braced on the inked muscles of his stomach, she rode him slowly, feeling her power in this position. It wasn’t long before lust drove her to move harder, her own need demanded she take more. The wood burned and stung her knees. She didn’t care. Auden’s hands tightened on her waist where she’d feel the imprint of them days after. She didn’t give a monkey’s. The only thing that mattered was he was rising to meet her, driving his cock even deeper.
He brushed his thumb over her clit, sending an echo of the cool mint tingling through her body and slammed into a wave of pure pleasure. The vibration of his groan hailed his orgasm, warm come spilling into her, sending aftershocks of delight to dance over her skin. Her body still squeezed over him, milking at him even as he softened inside her. She rose and fell with his heavy breathing. A large hand slid along her spine, making her shiver, then urged her to lie on top of him. “But I’m not done,” she protested.
“Give me a minute,” he promised. “Not so shy anymore, are you?”
“Hardly. You’re still inside me.”
Laughing, he managed to get to his feet, still holding her and placed her back on the counter. He leaned down to place a kiss on each one of her tender knees. “We can give a bed a go. Give the bruises a rest.”
“That’d be nice,” she admitted. Wow, she really had just slept in his bed, hadn’t she? For performances like that, she’d be more than happy to be conventional.
Chapter Nine
Auden brought up the food on two trays, trying not to knock over the bottle of non-alcoholic wine. Helena had wrapped herself completely within the sheets, curled up into a ball like a hibernating hedgehog and made an angry little grunt every time he had tried to cuddle up to her. He didn’t think too much about what this opportunity could mean, and instead revelled in the luck of meeting her. How he’d be able to thank Terry for getting him the gig, he’d never know. Oh yeah. The song he should be writing.
Setting the trays on the floor, he sat on the side of the bed and leaned over to bury his face in Helena’s neck. She still smelled delicious.
“Hells, don’t you want to eat?”
Her head lifted slightly. “Food?”
“Yes.”
“I’ve only been asleep a minute.”
“You’ve been asleep an hour.”
She sat up, tucking the sheets around her. “I don’t sleep.”
“You do, and you’re a duvet hog. You should share.”
A smile lifted her face. “What are we eating?”
“Almost burnt roast dinner. Good thing you are a duvet hog or we’d be having omelettes.”
Her hand cupped his cheek as her mouth pressed to his other. “We can go downstairs if you like. Eat like normal people?”
He gave a shrug. “Bit late for that really.”
“Is that wine?” she asked as he bent over to hand over her tray.
“Non-alcoholic. Now I know I don’t need it to make you let go. I just need to touch you here.” His hand slipped beneath the sheets to a spot just above her pelvic bone. The tray nearly flew ten feet in the air as she gave a yelp. She righted it, much to his amusement. “Don’t worry, just eat. We can reassess that later.”
They tucked into the food before Helena asked, “Other
than the depression thing, why are you hiding out here?”
He blinked. “What makes you think I’m hiding?”
“This doesn’t really suit you.” She indicated the house with her fork. “It’s like, I don’t know…an animal in captivity.”
He glanced down at his plate. “It’s like that when you’re in recovery. No additional stimulants permitted.”
“Did you get a second opinion?” she asked, a frown between her brows. “Sorry, I know my dad’s seeing you, but you just don’t display addictive symptoms to me.”
“Your dad’s very good at his job,” he replied, feeling on edge. Carefully he forked up some potato and offered it to her. She ate and he could see her brain ticking away.
“It can happen and—”
“Hells,” he said softly, pressing a kiss to her bare shoulder, “let’s not.”
“All right fine,” she huffed. “I’ll pretend to be a royal of a principality.”
He grinned. “Better. Wine?”
The lone word refused to sway her to a different subject. “Would it be so bad? Just to get a second opinion?”
“Yes,” he answered.
“But wouldn’t you—”
“Helena,” he interrupted again. “Talk to me about your triumph over adversity.”
She blinked in sheer and obvious panic. “What? Why?”
“There we go.”
“So you trust my body but not my brain?”
“You have a phenomenal body,” he admitted, momentarily distracted by how that body felt against his. “And it’s not about whether you’re a good doctor or not.”
“If only you knew,” she murmured. “Can I have a drink, please?”
He poured her a glass of the wine and handed it over. “You want to save me?”
She gave a helpless shrug. “One good turn deserves another.”
They caught each other’s eye and laughed. He leaned over to kiss her, and in that kiss, he felt the tiniest speck of light in his heart that the world wasn’t as dark or as cruel or as hateful as he believed. As much as he wanted to be careful, to not expect anything or even dare hope, that light began to grow.