Fire After Dark

by Sadie Matthews

  ‘Is this what you want?’ he asks huskily.

  ‘Yes,’ I reply, my voice coming out half as a sigh and half as an aching need. ‘Oh my God, yes.’

  He comes up close to me and searches my face intently. ‘I don’t know what you do to me . . . but I do know I can’t fight it any more.’ He moves his hands round to the back of my dress and slides his fingers over my shoulder blades as he finds the zip. Deftly, he pulls it down and I can feel my skin exposed as the dress fall open. With a quick movement, he unclips the belt that fastens behind, and now the dress slips gently down to the floor, leaving me standing there. I’m wearing simple underwear: a white bra with a lace edge and matching knickers, the front a demure white lace panel.

  ‘You’re so beautiful,’ he says, smoothing a finger over my hip. ‘Incredible.’

  The extraordinary thing is that I feel beautiful: ripe and luscious and ready for him. More beautiful than I ever have before.

  ‘I want you right now,’ he whispers, and sinks his lips on mine, his tongue caressing my mouth as his hands roam over my body, across my back and over my bottom, where his hands linger for a while, savouring the full curves there.

  ‘Your arse is made for me,’ he murmurs against my lips. ‘It’s perfect.’

  I can’t help pressing it back against his palms, and he groans softly. He kisses a burning trail across my jaw and down my neck, then across my shoulder. It’s my turn to moan now as his stubble grazes my skin. I’m desperate to touch him, to feel that warm brown skin under my fingertips and inhale his scent. I want to rip off his shirt and kiss the patch of dark hair on his dark chest, but he’s now holding my arms firmly, stopping me from moving.

  ‘My turn,’ he whispers with a smile. ‘Yours will come.’

  Promises, promises . . . but oh God, this is divine . . .

  His mouth is so tantalising, moving towards my breasts which are now rising and falling with my quickened breathing, but he’s taking his time, kissing every inch of skin between my neck and the line of lace on my bra. My nipples have hardened and have become exquisitely sensitive as they strain against the cotton. I can’t help lifting my head back, pushing my breasts forward, as, at last, his mouth reaches the edge of my bra. Then his fingers are there, those elegant, square-tipped fingers that hold so much promise of what they can do to me, pushing back the lace, letting my right breast escape from its confines, the nipple emerging hard and erect as though begging for the pull of his mouth on it. He moves slowly towards it, his tongue trailing over the soft curve until his lips meet it and he takes in his mouth. The effect makes me draw in a shivering breath, as a white-hot current flares out from my nipple and connects to my groin. I’m flooded by intense desire.

  ‘Please,’ I say beseechingly, ‘please, I can’t wait . . .’

  He laughs and says teasingly, ‘Patience, young lady, is a virtue.’

  But I feel anything but virtuous: I’m lustful, abandoned, craving him, needing him. He’s winding me so tightly, I can hardly bear it.

  His other hand cups my left breast, his fingers tweaking my nipple through its fabric. My breathing is hot and heavy and I can’t help small sighs escaping as the sensations of pleasure make my lids close and my mouth open.

  I put my hands to his shoulders. ‘Please, let me touch you,’ I beg.

  He gives my nipple a tug with his teeth, letting them graze over its tip, then pulls away. He takes a step back and looks at me, a smile curving his lips. Then he unbuttons his shirt, letting it drop to the floor. I marvel at the sight of his broad chest with its dark nipples, the brown skin and dark hair, the broad shoulders and the muscles of his upper arms.

  Is this really for me?

  He slides his feet from his shoes, and then all my attention is focused on his shorts. I can tell that he is hard but as he unbuttons his fly and takes them off, I gasp. His erection is incredible: beautiful in its smoothness, proud in its length, telling me frankly with its thick shaft how much he wants me.

  Dominic takes a step towards me, his eyes hooded now with the power of his lust. He wraps his arms around me in an embrace and kisses me passionately. I can feel the rod of his erection between us, pressing against my belly. It’s hot and hard, and my only thought is the incredible captivating need I have to feel him inside me.

  He unclips my bra and it falls to the floor. My breasts press against his chest and at last I can wrap my arms around him, feeling the broad, smooth expanse of his back beneath my hands. I run my palms across it, savouring the feel of the muscled surface, and down over the hardness of his firm cheeks.

  There’s nothing there.

  The thought pops into my mind unbidden. What do I mean? What is my subconscious telling me?

  The beating you saw. There aren’t any marks on him. You’d feel them.

  Then it definitely wasn’t him! I think with relief. I don’t know who it was, or why they were in his apartment, but it wasn’t him . . .

  That thought releases something in me. My desire turns from something shivering and ecstatic into something that expresses a need I’ve never felt before. My arms wrap more tightly around him, my fingers scratch lightly on the surface of his skin, I let my face drop on his chest and run my teeth and tongue over his skin, biting gently at his flesh. I take his dark nipple into my mouth and tug on it.

  ‘Christ,’ he says, as I suck it, pulling it between my teeth. Then almost roughly, ‘Do you want me to fuck you?’

  There’s a catch in his voice. I nod and let the small bud of his nipple slip from between my lips. It glistens from my saliva.

  ‘Do you?’

  ‘Yes!’

  ‘Ask me . . .’

  I’ve never said such a thing out loud, but I’m too far past caring about that. ‘Yes, please, fuck me, I want you to so much . . .’

  Suddenly, he releases his strength, lifting me up and carrying me to the bed as easily if I weighed nothing at all, and putting me down so that I’m lying on my back, my breast and belly exposed to him. The linen is cool beneath my heated skin.

  He moves round to a small table, opens the door and takes out a condom packet. With a quick movement, he rips open the foil, removes the rubber disc and slides it down over his penis.

  This is really going to happen.

  I’m hungry for it, ready for it, desperate to feel him filling me up. He is back now, standing at the foot of the bed. He hooks his fingers under the rim of my knickers and begins gently to tug them down. As they reach my ankles and then are gone, he kneels down, gently parts my thighs and puts his lips to my small patch of pubic hair. I can feel myself opening like a flower as everything swells and fills with wet heat. I’m so needy, so eager. My body is begging for his.

  ‘You’re gorgeous,’ he says in a low voice and the feel of his breath on my swollen clitoris makes me gasp and sigh. Then he runs his lips over its tip, letting his tongue drift over it, making it twitch in exquisite agony.

  ‘I can’t wait,’ I pant. ‘Please, Dominic . . .’

  He lifts himself up and stands there for a moment, his magnificent cock rearing above me. Then he lowers himself onto me, pressing the hard shaft onto my clitoris, making me wriggle beneath him. His weight feels so good. My legs spread even wider to make it easier for him to enter me, my hips lifting up to meet him, and it all happens without my meaning it. My body is responding independently of my consciousness. All it knows is that it wants and needs his maleness, right now.

  He pulls back a little and the tip of his penis is pressing at my entrance.

  ‘Please, please,’ I say, my voice almost a whimper, my eyes full of longing.

  His own gaze is dark and intense. He’s clearly savouring this moment and all of its deliciousness. I can feel my inner lips expanding with need, my body pulsing with excitement. I rise up slightly, reach out and put my hands on his firm backside, then pull him so that, at last, his shaft enters me, sliding in easily because I’m so wet but still moving with exquisite slowness, pushing forward to fill me
up with a delicious sensation.

  I moan and clutch at him as he pushes himself far inside me. There is a look of fierceness on his face, as though he’s concentrating on holding himself back. He pushes hard into me, and my hips come up to meet him. I glory in the feeling of him pumping so deep into me. It’s like nothing I’ve ever felt before. He’s gathering speed now, and I’m finding my rhythm too, pushing up my hips and arching my back with every new thrust. Then he changes slightly, taking more of his weight on his knees, and slips his hands over the full cheeks of my bottom, grasping them and pulling me towards him. The sensation within me changes: it’s sharper, more acute and makes me breathless every time he rams deep inside me. I gasp and cry out, and he squeezes my bottom hard with both hands, rocking fiercely forward so that he presses on my hot and inflamed clitoris. I can feel an incredible sensation swirling inside me: a feeling that comes in ever-increasing waves, building relentlessly. It is a blissful, unbearable feeling that takes me higher and higher as though I’m being carried inside a tidal wave towards my climax. I unwrap my legs and spread as wide as I can for him, my limbs stiffening with the need to come. I can feel Dominic increasing his pace, his need becoming heightened by my obvious closeness to orgasm, and the sight of his blazing eyes as he watches me as I tip over the edge. The spasms seize me and great judders of pleasure rock my body. I’m conscious of nothing but the exquisite delight of my release, and then I hear Dominic exclaim as his own orgasm boils up and spends itself. He falls forward on to my chest and we lie there for a long time, still joined, panting and exhausted.

  At last he lifts his head, and he is smiling at me, bright and happy. ‘Did you enjoy your day out, Beth?’

  ‘I enjoyed my day in,’ I rely, giggling.

  ‘I enjoyed my day in you,’ he responds, and we both laugh. We are so close, so intimate, so together at this moment. He pulls out of me, rolls over and deftly removes his condom and disposes of it. Then he takes me in his arms again and kisses me softly. ‘That was amazing, Beth. You’re full of surprises.’

  I sigh happily. ‘Well, I can honestly say that was extraordinary.’

  ‘Do you want to stay the night?’ he asks.

  ‘What time is it?’

  ‘It’s after eight o’clock.’

  ‘Is it?’ I’m amazed. Then I nestle into the warmth of his arm. ‘Yes please, I’d love to.’

  ‘We’ll get up and have dinner,’ he says, but the bed is warm and delicious and before long, we’ve both fallen asleep, exhausted.

  Chapter Nine

  I wake in the morning to hear the shower going in the en-suite bathroom, and a few minutes later, Dominic steps out, wrapped in a towel. He’s utterly gorgeous, with his black hair wet, drips of water falling on to his shoulders.

  ‘Hi,’ he says with a smile, his eyes bright. ‘How are you? Did you sleep well?’

  ‘Very well.’ I have a Cheshire cat’s grin as I stretch luxuriously.

  ‘You look delectable,’ he says as he gazes at me appreciatively. ‘I wish I didn’t have to get into the office today. I can’t think of anything I’d rather do than get right back in there with you for a repeat performance.’

  ‘Then why don’t you?’ I ask, giving him a coquettish look. Just the sight of him has sent my nerve endings into action again, making my skin tingle all over.

  ‘I’ve got a job to do, sweetheart. And I’m late enough as it is.’ He picks up a smaller towel and starts rubbing it over his hair. ‘And don’t you have a job to go to as well today?’

  I don’t know what he’s talking about for a moment, then I sit bolt upright. ‘Oh my God! The gallery!’ I’ve completely forgotten about my new job in the whirlwind of excitement I’ve been caught up in. ‘What time is it?’

  ‘Nearly eight. I have to get moving.’

  I relax a little. ‘Phew. I don’t have to start until ten.’

  He shakes his head, laughing. ‘You arty types, you certainly have an easy life.’

  I’m just thinking that I ought to get back to Celia’s to get dressed when I slap my hand over my mouth with a gasp.

  ‘What now?’ Dominic asks, one dark eyebrow cocked enquiringly.

  ‘De Havilland! I didn’t feed him last night!’ I scramble out of bed and reach for my clothes. ‘Oh poor De Havilland! How could I forget him?’

  ‘Don’t worry, I have a feeling he’ll still be alive. And I’m rather glad you didn’t call a halt to proceedings because you were so busy thinking about your cat.’

  ‘Celia’s cat – that’s why it’s so dreadful!’ I pull on my dress in double-quick time and then rush over to him. ‘Thank you, thank you, for yesterday and last night.’

  He pulls me close to his still-damp chest. I can feel the thump of his heart and smell a delicious concoction of soap, aftershave and his own musky warmth. ‘I should thank you,’ he murmurs and the sound rumbles in his chest. Then he leans over and picks up his phone. ‘I haven’t got your number, you’d better give it to me.’

  I quickly reel off the number and he taps it into his phone. ‘Great. I’ll text you and then you’ll have my number.’ He drops a soft sweet kiss onto my lips. He tastes of mint and honey. ‘Now off you go. Don’t be late for your first day.’

  De Havilland, of course, is furious with me. He’s yowling crossly as soon as he hears my key in the lock, and as I come in, his yellow eyes seem to flash with anger at me.

  ‘All right, all right, I’m sorry! I forgot you, it was wicked, but I’m here now.’

  He runs ahead of me into the kitchen, his black fluffy tail straight up in the air as if to indicate his displeasure, then stands at his bowl, still miaowing, as I tip his biscuits in. Then he sets to, crunching them with relish as though he hasn’t seen food in weeks.

  I check the time. I’d better be speedy. I need a shower, and soon. But in the shower, I’m almost reluctant to wash away the scent of last night’s activity. It was so wonderful, just the slight flash of replay can make my stomach swoop like a waterfall dropping over a cliff edge. It was like nothing I ever experienced with Adam, that’s for sure. We made love, yes, but it was always the same: pleasurable, in a quiet way, but predictable. He never made me feel one tenth of that excited, uninhibited ecstasy that possessed me last night. The feeling I had as Dominic entered me was one of profound intimacy and the climax of our lovemaking was a kind of satisfaction I’ve never known. It shook me to the core. I look down at my body, the breasts covered in slippery soap, the soft belly, the mound below with its covering of fair hair, and I feel as though I’ve understood for the first time what I might be capable of.

  Was that really me? And can I do it again? Oh my goodness, I do hope so.

  I’m already craving him with a deep, inner need, like the thirst you feel on a hot afternoon.

  Dominic.

  His name makes me shiver with delight.

  But you’ve got a job to do, remember? Time to haul your mind out of the bedroom, missy! Now let’s rinsed and get on with this thing.

  I arrive at the Riding House Gallery on the dot of ten. I can see that James is already inside, and when he hears my knock, he comes to the door to let me in.

  ‘Good morning! How are you, Beth? Nice weekend?’ He’s looking very smart in an English gentleman way, in khaki chinos, a pink shirt and a dark blue tank top. He’s taller and thinner than I remembered, the glasses perched on his aquiline nose as he gives me a friendly smile.

  ‘Yes, thank you,’ I say cheerfully. ‘I had a wonderful time.’

  ‘Glad to hear it. Now, let me show you the ropes . . . Coffee first, that’s the general rule. Whoever gets in first makes it – no takeaways, though, that’s also a rule.’

  ‘Are there lots of rules?’ I ask, smiling, as he leads me through the gallery to a small kitchen at the back.

  ‘Oh no, it’s very relaxed. But I do have standards.’

  I’m not surprised to hear it, he looks like a man who has particular likes and dislikes. Freshly ground Colombian coffee, a
strong, spicy roast, is one of those likes, and there’s a shining silver Gaggia coffee machine to make it. In a moment, he’s handing me a delicious-smelling latte and sipping his own strong black coffee from a china cup. ‘There,’ he says, ‘we’re human again. Now we can get started.’

  As the morning progresses, I know I’m going to like this job. Beneath his calm, elegant exterior, James proves to be witty and amusing, with an expectedly playful side, joking and laughing as he shows me round. My work is fairly undemanding. I have to answer the phone, help any customers that come in and sort out the general admin. Of course, as I know nothing, James has to do it all but I’m quick to understand his systems.

  ‘I’m sorry this is all a bit junior,’ he says apologetically. ‘There is more interesting work to do, in time, I promise.’

  ‘I don’t mind starting at the bottom,’ I say.

  ‘Good girl.’ He smiles again. ‘I think we’re going to get on very well.’

  We do. In fact, we hit it off wonderfully. James is very easy to be around and he makes me laugh all the time. If I’ve got any suspicions about whether he might be flirting with me, they’re put to rest in the afternoon, when a middle-aged blond man comes in, his weathered face looking rather battered in contrast to the smart white suit he’s wearing. He goes straight up to James, kisses him on the cheek, and starts talking to him in a language I don’t recognise. James replies, then looks over at me.

  ‘Beth, let me introduce Erlend, my partner. He’s Norwegian, you must excuse him.’

  Erlend turns and greets me very politely. ‘How do you do, Beth? I hope you’ll enjoy your time working with James. Don’t let him be bossy, he always likes to be in charge.’

  ‘I won’t,’ I smile.

  So James definitely isn’t flirting with me then.

  As the two men chatter away easily in Norwegian, I look about the bright, clean gallery and want to hug myself with happiness.