by Miranda Lee
But there were no covers involved. There was nothing to hide her eyes from what was happening to her. She lay there, legs and arms spreadeagled, whilst his hands and lips became stunningly intimate with every inch of her body. And did she care? Not in the least. She moaned with pleasure then groaned with frustration each time he stopped, always when she was just on the verge of coming. It was a mad mixture of near ecstasy followed by sheer agony.
‘Oh please,’ she begged when his mouth abandoned her swollen clitoris one more tormenting, torturous time.
‘Patience, Scarlet,’ he said, at which point she swore at him, using a four-letter word which she rarely used. He only smiled and said, ‘Soon, sweetheart.’
Her head whirled as he rose from where he’d been lying between her legs and moved up the bed to lie down next to her, propping himself on one elbow.
‘Trust me,’ he added, giving her a breath-stealing kiss on her parted-and, yes, panting-lips, before sitting up and stripping off his black boxer shorts, exposing a stunningly formidable erection. Long and thick, it stood up ram-rod straight. Scarlet couldn’t stop staring at it, her mouth drying as she tried to imagine how it would feel inside her.
When he lay back down next to her, she couldn’t stop herself reaching out to touch him.
It was the kind of involuntary action John had hoped eventually to evoke in Scarlet, to make her forget about babies and think only of sex. It was what he’d planned when he’d asked her to come up to Darwin a week early. He’d thought he would need a good while to totally seduce Scarlet into such an erotically charged state of mind. It seemed, however, that he might achieve his goal a lot quicker than that. She was definitely not thinking of anything but sex right at this moment.
John knew he should probably stop her doing what she was doing, but he simply could not. Her fingertips felt like butterfly wings fluttering against his engorged flesh. Never before had his penis been touched like that. So sweetly yet so sensuously. It stirred him to an almost unbearable level of arousal. Being with Scarlet was testing his willpower to the limit. He’d already lasted a long time without release… enough was enough.
‘No more, Scarlet,’ he said, and reached out to still her hand with his. ‘I’m only human, you know,’ he added with a soft smile when her rather glazed eyes lifted to his.
Scarlet could not believe she’d been so bold as to touch him like that. Or that she’d loved it-loved the feel of him, so hard and yet so soft. It came to her as John lifted her hand away that she might not mind putting her lips where her hand had been-an astonishing thought, given she’d never been keen on that particular form of foreplay. Not that she hadn’t tried it once or twice. She had; men seemed crazy about it. But she’d hated the way it made her feel. She’d never imagined for one moment that she might actually enjoy it. Or be turned on by it. But she rather suspected she would be, if she did it to John. Just the thought of doing it turned her on. So did the thought of taking him into her body. A wave of naked desire brought a frustrated groan to her lips.
‘What is it?’ he asked. ‘What’s wrong?’
‘Just do it to me,’ she said, her eyes as pleading as her voice.
He stared down into her flushed face as he positioned himself between her thighs.
‘Lift your knees,’ he commanded. ‘Place the soles of your feet flat on the mattress.’
Her stomach tightened as she did so, her heart pounding against her ribs.
His entry was slow and gentle, but it still brought a gasp to her lips.
He didn’t stop, pushing in further till she was filled to the hilt. But he wasn’t finished. Another gasp escaped her lips when he suddenly took her by the ankles and wrapped her legs up around his waist. This new position seemed to allow him to slide in even deeper, by which time Scarlet could not wait for him to move.
When he didn’t, she did.
Scarlet lifting her hips from the bed evoked something close to panic in John. Never before had a woman been able to make him lose control. Now, suddenly, he was overwhelmed by a powerful urge just to take her! Without finesse. Without further waiting or watching. His body began to move quite involuntarily, not slowly or gently, but vigorously, almost violently. Back and forth. Back and forth. She moved with him, squeezing him mercilessly, making his teeth clench down hard in his jaw as he tried to resist the sensations which were threatening to tip him over the edge with humiliating speed. In desperation he grabbed her hips, holding her still with a brutal grip whilst he tried to slow things down-his own body especially. But it would not be denied. There was no hope of lasting much longer, he realised with dismay. No hope at all!
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
SCARLET’S mouth dropped open when she came, so astonished was she by the intensity of her climax. Never before had she experienced spasms so powerful, or so pleasurable. Never before had she made such sounds, moaning and groaning in a wildly wanton fashion as her flesh contracted around his. But any sound she made was soon eclipsed when John came. Holding her even tighter, he shuddered violently into her, his head thrown back, eyes shut.
When his orgasm finished, his head dropping forward, his eyes opened to reveal an expression which Scarlet could only describe as confused. But any confusion was gone as quickly as it came, leaving Scarlet to wonder if she’d imagined it. By then he was smiling-though the smile was sardonic.
‘You’re not even a teeny tiny bit frigid, Scarlet,’ he said in droll tones as he removed her legs from his back and let them flop back onto the bed. ‘In truth, you have the makings of a great courtesan.’
Scarlet, who was in the throes of coming back to earth, found herself thrown down with a thud by this last remark.
‘Well, thank you very much,’ she said tartly. ‘What a lovely compliment, saying I’d make a great prostitute. Now, if you don’t mind…’ She lifted her shoulders and wriggled her hips in a vain attempt to eject him from her body.
A foolish move, for all it did was remind her how it felt with him inside her. Such blissful sensations did not lend themselves to her staying angry.
‘I do mind,’ he said sternly. ‘It’s very comfy, the way we are. So stop being silly, lie back and just relax.’
It did seem silly to keep struggling.
‘Much better,’ John said when she slumped back against the pillows. ‘Now, how about the relaxing part?’ he went on. ‘Breathe in deeply and then let the air out slowly. Yes. That’s the way.’
Despite doing as he suggested, Scarlet was still not totally relaxed.
‘For your information,’ John said, cupping her face with his hands before sliding his fingers up into the hair, ‘a courtesan was not a common prostitute, but an attractive and often poor woman who made her living by using her erotic skills to ensnare herself a wealthy lover. She was much valued by her patron. He would often buy her a house, hire staff for her and pay her bills, all for the privilege of having exclusive access to her very beautiful body.’
‘How interesting,’ Scarlet said, finding herself perversely flattered by his words. It was somehow seductive for a girl to be told that she could be so brilliant at sex that a man would do that much to have her. Such praise was as corrupting as words of love.
‘What kind of erotic skills did a good courtesan possess?’ she asked, her curiosity piqued.
John positioned himself more comfortably on top of her, his bent forearms pressing into the bed on either side to ease his weight off her chest whilst his lower half remained intimately locked with hers.
‘They were many and varied,’ he informed her. ‘But a good courtesan concentrated on discovering what her lover liked best in bed, what foreplay he enjoyed the most, what fantasies he had. And then she catered to them all.’
‘So what fantasies do you have?’ she asked.
John looked down into her wide blue eyes and considered how he should answer that.
Not the truth, of course. Most of his sexual fantasies were too decadent to be voiced aloud. At the same time, there were s
ome fantasies which could be safely indulged in if and when the opportunity presented itself. John had often fantasised over having Scarlet at his sexual beck and call. It was a temptation impossible to resist.
‘That’s for me to know and you to find out, my darling Scarlet. Because you’re going to become my courtesan for the duration of your stay here.’
‘What?’
‘You heard me.’
‘That wasn’t part of our deal.’
‘No. It came to me when I discovered how good you were in bed.’
‘Oh,’ she said, and stared up at him. He really was rather wicked. And very knowing about women.
‘Have you done this kind of thing before?’ she suddenly asked.
‘What kind of thing?’
‘Don’t play dumb, John. You know what I mean. Is role playing one of your fantasies?’
‘No. I just thought it would be fun, that’s all. Why, aren’t you up for it?’ he said in the kind of challenging fashion which he knew she wouldn’t be able to resist. Scarlet was nothing if not competitive. Or she had been, at school with him. It had killed her whenever he’d beaten her in an exam.
Scarlet’s first reaction was to fire back, Yes, of course I am. But hard on the heels of that pride-driven urge came the stark reality of the situation. A courtesan she was not. John was flattering her when he said she was good in bed. She wasn’t; not usually. If she’d been good just now, it was because she’d been so incredibly turned on. She didn’t even know what she’d done to make him say that. Was it when she’d touched him? Or later, when she’d been writhing around under him? There’d been nothing skilled about that. She’d just gone crazy with need. Just thinking about it was turning her on again.
John sucked in sharply when he felt her move against him.
The little minx! She was answering his challenge by showing him what she could do.
‘Obviously your answer is yes,’ he said thickly.
‘Now you’re being silly. I don’t have the experience or the expertise necessary for such a role.’
‘That’s a matter of opinion,’ he muttered through gritted teeth.
‘You can do it to me again, if you want to,’ she said, her eyes having gone as smoky as her voice.
He had every intention of doing so, especially when she lifted her legs and wrapped them around him. But the moment he started moving, it happened to him again, that rush of adrenaline which heralded his earlier loss of control. He tried to slow everything down but his body had a mind of its own, and he surged deep into her with almost manic determination. Immediately, he was in danger of coming. Immediately. In desperation, he withdrew and flipped her over, pulling her up onto her knees under him, giving himself a few precious seconds of relief before he plunged into her again. Her instant cry of release came to the rescue of his battered pride, allowing him to stop his futile struggle. Eventually, they collapsed together onto the bed, John pulling her sideways into a spoon position so that he didn’t squash her with his weight. When he wrapped his arms tightly around her and held her close she sighed a happy-sounding sigh. Soon, her breathing slowed and she slipped into that wonderfully sound sleep which often came after great sex.
Unfortunately, John wasn’t so lucky, sleep eluding him as he tried to work out why he’d rocketed so out of control, not once but twice.
The only logical reason he could find was that Scarlet was nothing like his usual woman. Despite her age, she was a relative innocent where sex was concerned. Innocent and touchingly sweet, which could also be a factor in his uncharacteristic responses to her.
John’s choice of bed partners these days were not of the innocent and sweet variety. After he’d left university-where no-strings sex was a common pastime-John had quickly found that sleeping with his female peers in the wider world was hazardous to his peace of mind. Most girls around his age didn’t want one-night stands; they expected him to stay for breakfast. Expected him to ask them out again. Expected to become his steady girlfriend. In short, they wanted commitment, something John wasn’t interested in. He enjoyed the bachelor lifestyle. Enjoyed being free to come and go as he pleased without having to answer to anyone, or upset anyone.
John soon realised that if he wanted to have a reasonably regular and guilt-free sex life he’d have to choose older women to sleep with, ones who weren’t looking for love and marriage. Recently divorced was good, he’d found, along with the occasional career girl who was already married to her job. During the past couple of years, he’d favoured women whose only interest in him was an evening of pleasant company, usually over dinner, followed by a long night of sexual pleasure-always at their place. That way he didn’t have to ask them to leave in the morning. He could do the leaving, when and if he chose.
Bianca had once asked him why he didn’t bring his ‘girlfriends’ home. He’d told his housekeeper that she was the only real girlfriend he had, which had made her laugh.
His heart twisted as he always did when he thought of Bianca.
Best not think about her then, buddy. You can’t change what happened.
Scarlet stirred slightly in her sleep, pulling up her knees and thrusting her very shapely bottom against his stomach, causing his till-then deflated sex to come to life once more with alarming speed.
It was impossible to sleep here now, common sense dictated, John smothering a groan as he very carefully withdrew from her oh-so-delicious body, scowling when he saw the evidence of his renewed desire for her. Truly, this was getting ridiculous!
He threw Scarlet a rueful glance as he quietly rose from the bed and dragged on his boxer shorts. Frigid? She was about as frigid as Darwin in the summer.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
SCARLET woke to solitude and silence. She blinked several times, then sat up, pushing her hair back behind her ears as she cocked her head and listened for the sounds of life.
Nothing.
She had no idea what time it was, a quick glance around showing no clock anywhere. The light coming into the room from the balcony suggested it was late. Quite late, a suspicion confirmed by the urgency of her need to go to the bathroom. Scarlet was grateful for John’s absence as she threw back the covers and jumped, naked, from the bed. Though that didn’t stop her wondering where he was. He’d certainly been in bed with her when she’d fallen asleep.
Oh Lord!
Scarlet could not believe how incredible the night had been. How incredible he had felt. Maybe size did matter.
But of course it wasn’t just John’s size which had made last night different from any other night she’d ever spent in bed with a man. She’d been beside herself with the most dizzying pleasure long before he’d stripped off. What John didn’t know about a woman’s body clearly wasn’t worth knowing. He was an extraordinary lover-imaginative and very patient during foreplay, but passionate and primitive when it came to the act itself. She hadn’t forgotten the sounds he’d made when he’d come the first time; how they’d reminded her of a wild beast.
Had that been a subconscious fantasy of her own? she wondered as she washed her hands then stared up at herself in the vanity mirror. To be taken by a wild beast?
She would never have imagined so. But who knew what lurked in the dark recesses of one’s mind?
There was one fantasy that in the cool light of day she decided definitely didn’t appeal to her-that of being a courtesan. Especially John’s courtesan. No way would she enjoy kowtowing to his every sexual whim and wish, Scarlet told herself firmly as she finger-combed her messy hair into place.
On the other hand, she did not regret-or resent-the degree to which she’d enjoyed his love-making. It was exciting, in a way, to discover that with the right lover she was actually highly sexed.
No doubt John was somewhat smug over his successful seduction of her, but c’est la vie. It would be hypocritical of her to start pretending this morning that she hadn’t enjoyed every single moment. Saying so to his face, however, might prove difficult. She still hadn’t overcome h
er shyness, not to mention her pride.
Her pride was one of the reasons she was reluctant to leave the bathroom before checking that the bedroom was still empty and the bedroom door firmly shut. As much as she hadn’t worried about John seeing her naked last night when she’d been turned on, it was a different matter in the cold light of day. Hurrying back into the bedroom, Scarlet scooped up her pyjama top from where it was lying on the rug beside the bed, donning it quickly before going on a frantic search for the bottom half. She found the shorts under the covers, right down the bottom of the bed. Once they were safely on, she made the bed then, after taking a few calming breaths, went in search of the man himself.
She almost missed him, sprawled sound asleep on one of the sofas, only the sound of his deep but even breathing attracting her attention. Scarlet shook her head as she stared down at his half-naked form, amazed that he could sleep like that without a rug or a blanket for warmth. Okay, so the apartment was air-conditioned, but still…
He really did have a great body, she thought for the umpteenth time as her admiring eyes began travelling over him from head to toe, stopping abruptly when they reached the scar on his right leg, just to the side of his knee. She hadn’t noticed it last night, but then she’d been somewhat distracted at the time. It was quite a nasty scar, purple and puckered around the edges, probably the result of that accident he’d had recently when he’d broken his leg. She wondered how the accident had happened and how bad it had been. If he’d been a normal man, she could have asked him about it. But John wasn’t a normal man, she conceded ruefully. He had this thing about being questioned. Silly, really, but so darned typical of him. He’d always been a loner, with a loner’s persona. ‘Tell ‘em nothing and take ‘em nowhere’: that was obviously his creed in life where women were concerned. It surprised Scarlet that he’d ever admitted to having this long-held desire for her. To do so must have gone against the grain.