Should she tell him she knew already? That he’d lost his love? She decided to lie still and not spoil the moment. If he wanted to talk, that was fine. If not, fine too.
Archie reached for her breast and covered the whole thing in his palm. She looked up to see his eyes fluttering closed, a tear threatening to spill and roll on his temple. His chest heaved out a huge sigh and he began to talk. “You’re the first since Eilidh.”
“Shh, it’s okay. I know…”
“I knew the doc would tell you.” He twisted a little so he could lie to the side of her more.
“He worries about you.”
“Yeah, well, he shouldn’t. I can look after myself.” He reached to the side of Harriet’s face and pushed a lock of wet hair behind her ear. He opened his mouth as if to speak but sighed instead.
“Did you enjoy it?” Harriet was suddenly self-conscious. If she’d stopped long enough to think about it before-hand, being someone’s first fuck after their lover had died was actually quite a big deal. Her heart started to race and doubt filled her. Her eyes flicked to Archie’s face seeing if she could read his reaction before he spoke.
“Are you actually kidding me on?” he said, breaking into a smile. “That was amazing. Though to be honest, that’s been building up for years. I probably could have shagged the floor and it would have been great.”
Harriet gasped and shot up onto her elbow, eyebrows raised in horror. “What?” She didn’t know if she might cry or hit him. She was on the brink of tears and lifted her fist to beat at his chest, grief or no grief, that was a cruel thing to say.
Archie caught her wrist and started to laugh in his sexy hearty way, then pulled her up onto his chest. “All I’m saying is,” he said, shifting her legs so she straddled him, “is that, I could do with another go, you know, just to check…”
He tipped his pelvis nudging his burgeoning erection into Harriet’s thighs, making her juices flow again.
“Oh really?” she said, sinking back to show him her readiness. “Then what are you waiting for?” The thought of another good hard raw fuck from this mighty Highlander had her whole being trembling with lust.
He grabbed and flipped her like a ragdoll, and in an instant she was on all fours with him behind her. He gripped her buttocks in his big palms and spread her with his thumbs, exposing her wet pout to him.
Harriet wiggled her rump and pushed her knees wider on the bed and dipped her face down, presenting her pussy as wide and open as she could.
“Brace yourself,” he said, placing the tip of his cock on her clit and pulsing there for a few moments until Harriet thought she might go mad.
“Fuck me Archie, fuck me now!”
At last he obliged, stretching her and slamming his cock deep, keeping her steady with his grip and pulling out again until only the tip was in.
It was fantastic and Harriet pushed back to get more. He fucked her with such lust and ferocity that Harriet had to stretch her arms up to the headboard to jam herself in place. It was raw and feral and the bed hammered against the wall but she didn’t care. She wanted it deeper, harder, longer…
Again she was mounting the steps of climax, one by one each thrust ratcheted up the sensations in her sex. His cock filled her so fully she could feel every ridge of her vaginal walls as he plunged in again and again. He was taking her higher and he must be reaching the hidden depths of her clit, she rode the wave as it built, trying to breathe slowly. This rise of sensation was so pure, a deep internal orgasm, that she’d never had, she knew she had to focus to keep it within her reach. Shrinking to a tiny speck of light in her mind, she concentrated on breathing. Her full consciousness focussed in on her cunt and his cock. The slow breathing was at odds with the frantic thrusting but she held fast staying strong. In the distance she heard Archie groaning and his cock began to shudder, right at the root. The feeling surged up through her cunt and with all her might she clenched hard around his dick and pushed off the crest of the wave.
She couldn’t tell if the guttural moaning was coming from her or him but it filled the space around them, wrapping them up in their own lust as they broke free from all tension and let go together, spiralling into a deep hard orgasm.
His cock twitched and spasmed still hard and straining and as she came back into her own physicality she was aware of how tight his fingers gripped the flesh at her hips. She hoped it left bruises. She hoped they would last as a reminder of this incredible fuck.
Still inside her, he released her hips and dipped down over her back, placing one palm on the bed by her breast and the other wrapped around her torso. He nuzzled in between her shoulder blades and licked the sweat which gathered down her spine. Shivers cascaded over her flesh and they both fell to the side. He clasped her tight to him until she thought she might suffocate with their mingled body heat.
“Archie, I can’t breathe, let me out a bit,” she said shuffling out of his grip and huffing the hair that clung to her face as best she could. When she was free enough to twist and look at him, she was delighted to see him smiling broadly at her. “Did you like that?” she asked reaching up and touching his beautiful full lips.
“Aye, aye…” he replied gently stroking her hair and face. “It was amazing.”
Harriet’s heart swelled with joy and contentment for this moment they were sharing. Yes, she’d be gone in a few days but this had been amazing.
“Archie I’ve got something I need to tell you.” She was nervous about how he’d take the news of her career, especially when he’d already decked a reporter in the past.
He looked suspicious and pulled away. “Aye? Go on…”
“Well,” she said nibbling at her lip, “I’m a journalist.”
He breathed out looking relieved. “And? Bloody hell, woman, you had me thinking you were gonna tell me yer married.”
It was Harriet’s turn to be shocked. “So me being married would bother you?”
“Bother me? It would more than bother me.” He pulled her into his arms, hugging her tightly. “You’ve practically stolen my virginity. Ma boy doesnae ken what’s hit him.” He nudged his hips to emphasise the point, his softening cock bobbed in a thatch of pubic hair.
Harriet reached down and twisted her fingers in his curls, loving the closeness and intimacy that they shared already. “But I thought you hated reporters. You assaulted one after poor Eilidh.” She wasn’t sure if she should be saying his ex-lover’s name but somehow it felt right to acknowledge his past, especially as he’d mentioned her first.
He nuzzled his face into her neck and breathed deeply. “It was a long time ago. I’m a changed man.” He pulled back and Harriet twisted so they could look into each other’s eyes. “Meeting you has changed me.”
Harriet gulped. Really? “But you’ve been trying to repel me since we first met.”
“I ken it must have looked that way but you had me confused. I’ve not felt that ‘thing’ since my wee doll died. But now you’ve come to town, it feels right. Different.” His eyes flashed with sorrow and determination in equal measure and Harriet held her breath as he continued. “I dinnae ken what it is about you, London lass but you’ve cast a spell on me, journalist or not.”
“Well, I can’t say the feeling’s not mutual…” Tilting towards him, she placed a gentle kiss on the tip of his nose.
“So what are you going to report on? How the Highland Games’ Bad Boy shagged yer brains oot and it was the best damn sex you’ve ever had?”
Harriet grinned. “Maybe… might have to go for another ‘interview’ though.”
“That can be arranged…”
And as Archie Macdonald, hero of the Braemar games flipped her on her back and snaked his way down to her pussy, nibbling and licking at all her erogenous zones. Harriet melted into the bedding.
***
Harriet took out her notebook and jotted down snippets of details of the Games in an attempt to have at least some information to send back to work. Only by email though. Arc
hie had persuaded her to stay on for a bit at his place after the event. She watched his muscles flex and strain while he raised aloft yet another trophy. He really was the most magnificent man. She trembled inside and out at the thought of having him all to herself for at least the next few days.
I came here looking for a story… seems like I ended up with a fairy tale.
THE END.
About Tabitha Rayne
Tabitha Rayne has been told she is quirky, lovely and kinky – not necessarily in that order or by the same person. She writes erotic romance and as long as there’s a love scene, she’ll explore any genre. Tabitha is the designer of the Ruby Glow vibrator - pleasure for the seated lady, an award winning hands-free sex toy made by Rocks Off. She has a passion for painting nudes and creating sensual images. A reclusive exhibitionist, Tabitha believes orgasms can bring harmony to the mind, body and soul. ETO Best Erotic Author 2016
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Elizabeth McCoy’s husband has always been a perfect gentleman. But as they travel by ship to Canada to start a new life, she cannot help longing for something more…
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Heavy Metal Lust
Victoria Blisse
Chapter One
The racket vibrates through every fibre of me. The sea of bodies all around me roll with joy in time to the beat. Head thrashing, toe-tapping, whole body jumping masses of delight, mostly teenaged, it has to be said.
My ears hurt. I’m too old for this shit.
I wait patiently for the screaming, thumping, reverberating aural assault to stop, tap my daughter’s shoulder and wait for her to make eye contact before leaning in to yell in her ear over the screaming around us.
“I’m nipping out for a bit. Will you be okay?”
“Yeah, sure. You not enjoying Eyebleed?” She grins widely.
“No, no I’m not. I’ll be back when they’ve finished. Message me if you need me.”
“Yes, Mum.” A new song starts and Amy starts screaming and bouncing up and down till the metal on her boots clanks and her long, dyed black fringe covers her face. I scurry between bodies until I reach the edge of the auditorium where I stride confidently and quickly to the foyer within the first few bars of the next song.
I’m outside before the band starts to make noise. There’s no way that sound could ever be described as singing. Really, I’m not that uncool—the main band, Black Tranquillity, are actually quite good. But this screaming stuff does not appeal to my music taste. It’s barely music.
The big doors to the 1930s theatre turned 70s music venue are still open so I can hear more than I really want of the noise. I wander round the side of the hulking grey building hoping to seek silence, well if not silence an organic low hum that, no doubt, will be replicated in my bed tonight after the assault on my ears.
The things we do for the love of a thirteen year old offspring. She doesn’t ask for much–okay, she asks for a lot, but generally accepts a no with good grace—and so I give in and let her go to these concerts once in a while. Even though my ear health plummets with every one.
It’s worth it, though, to see and feel her excitement. As a single mum I’m always worried that she’s not getting all a girl her age should. Not enough of my time because I have to work, not enough treats because the money I work for is peanuts, and not enough opportunity to just be a kid because she has grown up quickly. She’s had to be there for me, too.
There’s not much of a view to admire here, but I’m looking out over the area of scrubland and car park while I walk and so it comes as quite a surprise when the toe of my shoe impacts something very solid and I stumble. It’s even more surprising when hands reach out to steady me.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” I stutter, gawping at the guy who is steadying me, “I wasn’t looking where I was going.”
“No, no, my fault entirely. Should keep my big size tens tucked away. Are you okay?”
“Yeah, fine, thank you.” He has stunning eyes. A swirling green patchwork that mesmerises me. His lips are pretty too, plump and ripe and—snap out of it woman—he’s very young.
“You sure?” He squeezes my shoulder. I nod far too hard and for far too long. His touch is hot and when he removes his hand I can still feel the imprint of his fingers.
Really, I should be moving on, not standing and gawking at him. A black beanie hides the majority of his hair, excerpt for a few dark strands that peek out around his ears. An oversized black hoodie—probably sporting a band logo on the back—masks what might be under there, but the skinny jeans don’t leave a thing to the imagination.
“Would you like a cig?” He pulls a dog eared packet from his back pocket.
“Nah, I’ve not smoked in years.”
“Yeah, I’m trying to give up. Hard work, though. Especially with the guys smoking around me all the time.”
“That’s really difficult. Only time I crave it now is when I’m in a group of smokers. My lungs are happier now, though.”
“So, why you out here then? Not enjoying the band?”
I wonder if he’s deliberately trying to keep me talking or if he’s just a naturally chatty person, so I reply without much thought. “God no, it’s horrific noise. All screamy and bangy and urgh.” I shake my head. “My daughter really loves it all. That’s why I’m here.”
“Ah, not a fan then?” His smile is curiously quizzical.
“Not of Eyebleed, no. Black Tranquillity are pretty good, mind. I can sing along to their stuff and their lead singer is pretty easy on the eye. I’ll head in for that. I’ll embarrass my daughter by old woman bopping along to the tunes, can’t miss out on that.”
“Oh, hush. You’re not old!” He exclaims.
“Why, thanks, but I’m old enough to be your mother.” I chuckle, cheeks warming.
“Pfft.” He shakes his head. “Well, however old you are, you’re gorgeous.”
Now, I’m a wordy person. I work in advertising, I spend most of my working week speaking and hardly ever shut up in my own time either. There isn’t a single thing I can say. Not a thought in my brain to push out onto my lips. I’m completely taken aback.
I look at him, then at the ground, then back at him. His green eyes are rimmed with hazel brown and his pupils are huge. I gulp, giggle, and look again to the floor.
Eloquent.
“And wonderfully cute too.”
“Oh!” I finally manage to squeak out a response. “Stop it.”
“What if I don’t want to?”
“Then, well… I guess I’ll have to do something to stop you!”
“Oh, yes?” He grins widely. If this was a cartoon, devil horns would grow out of his forehead. “Well, I have to say I’ve not been able to take my eyes off you because I just can’t believe how beautiful you are. There’s your amazing eyes–deep and dark—and your hair, so sleek and smooth I just want to reach out and run my fingers through it–”
“I can’t see your hair ‘cos of the beanie so I don’t know if I want to touch it.”
I talk shit when I’m panicking.
“Oh, I’ll take it off for you then.” He chuckles, tipping his head forward and pulling the hat off. His hair is soft and dark, long on top and shaved at the side. It’s when he flicks the long strands across his face that I see something that makes my jaw drop.
A lightning bolt.
“Thunder?” I gasp. “You’re Thunder—oh shit.”
He laughs. “You really didn’t realise?”
I ha
dn’t, not at all. Which, considering he’s plastered all over my daughter’s room, is pretty telling of my observational skills.
I just shake my head. Once again completely lost for words and this time wishing a rogue wind would whip me up and fly me away from the embarrassment.
“Ha, I thought you were just being coy with the lead singer comment.”
“Oh hell, I said you were –I—oh dear.”
“Look, erm, what’s your name?”
“Josephine. Jo, I’m Jo.”
“Okay, Josie.” Again, that quirky little smile that shouts mischief flickers across his face. “I have to go because I’m on stage in like, ten minutes, but here’s my number…” He pulls out a pen and rips the front off his cigarette packet.
“Give me a ring after the concert and we can go for a drink.”
“Oh, that’s lovely. I mean, I would, but my daughter… I have to get her home.”
“Oh, yeah of course. You know, we’re here tomorrow night too. Come along to the gig. I won’t tell if you come in after Eyebleed finish.” He winks and elbows me gently, making me blush even more. “And we can get together after it’s all finished then, yeah?”
“Well, possibly. Maybe. I’d like to.”
“Okay, cool.” He presses the cardboard into my hand and kisses my cheek. “See you tomorrow, Josie.”
He pulls his beanie on and strolls to the back of the theatre, knocks on a door and is virtually dragged in by a muscly arm. He waves just before he disappears and I wave back. My hand remains in the air even when he’s completely gone from sight.
My phone beeps and pulls me out of my daze. It’s Amy, wondering if I’ve got lost. I reply that I’m on my way and return to the concert with my mind whirling.
Amy isn’t really interested in me once I get back to her, as soon as she knows I’m safe her focus goes to the stage dressings. The distinctive Black Tranquillity logo on a huge banner, instruments with flames and lightning bolts on them, and for some reason only a rock band might understand, a rusty old cage in the corner.
British Bad Boys: A Bad Boy Romance Boxed Set Page 28