by Mel Teshco
The visual was almost as much a turn-on as the increasing friction, the vacuum of her mouth and the deliberate scraping of her teeth.
His hips bucked forward and back in direct countermovement to her wondrous oral action. Every part of him tingled and burned, his balls tightening to the point of pain. He gritted his teeth. Bloody hell. He wasn’t going to last two more seconds.
“I’m going to come,” he said hoarsely.
She pulled back and released him before peering up at him, her gorgeous hazel eyes blinking innocence. “Then I want you to come all over me.”
She didn’t need to ask twice. He nodded and she fisted the stem of his dick and drew her hand up and down in ever quickening strokes. His balls tingled with increased pressure. The muscles in his neck strained and he arched his head back. He growled something unintelligible and his semen shot out in a volcanic rush, spurting over her beautiful breasts and the sheen of sweat gathering at her collarbone, marking her.
Mine.
His breath shuddered as the last of his seed glazed her body. Holy hell, his wife never ceased to surprise and amaze him. Little wonder he couldn’t get enough of her. Little wonder his love for her tugged at his heart and warmed him all over.
He held out his hands and helped her to her feet. “I fucking love you,” he said huskily, every word spoken with heartfelt emotion.
She smiled at his way with words. “I love you too.”
Warmth radiated through his entire being. God, he’d never get enough of hearing her say those words. Never get enough of his wife, period.
She straightened, stood on tiptoe to clasp either side of his face before lifting her mouth to his for a soft, lingering kiss. Warmth filled him even further, a bright glow with dark shades of possessiveness. Then she dropped back to the flat of her feet, stepped into the shower stall and turned on the water.
He inhaled deeply, gathering in the threads of his emotion. He had nothing to fear, nothing to lose. Camilla was his wife. Their love was undeniable, their souls united. His breath eased out, his control intact. Undressing with quick, economical movements, he followed Camilla into the shower.
She turned to him, her face beaming and her beautiful eyes unblinking. She licked her lips and he withheld a growl as his cock thickened yet again, greedy for more. He’d been a player his whole life, but he’d never promised a woman anything other than a night of pleasure, a brief interlude with no strings attached. Still, some of his lovers had wanted more. He hadn’t. Not until Camilla had walked into his life in her classy waitress uniform and a flush creeping over her beautiful face.
Detaching the showerhead, he sprayed her all over, trying not to think about his seed gushing down the drain, seed that could have as easily filled her womb. Made a baby.
Having a family, a real home, wasn’t ever something he’d wanted before. Not until Camilla had become his wife. Now she was the centre of his universe and a family with her was all he wanted…craved. Meanwhile time kept right on ticking; reminding him he’d be fifty next month. He wanted to be young enough to enjoy his children, watch them grow up.
“Honey, are you okay?”
His wife’s voice brought him back to the present. He managed a smile. “Never better.” He’d found the love of his life with Camilla, and he wasn’t about to fuck it up by wanting more from her than she was prepared to give.
***
Camilla stood on tiptoe and laced her fingers behind Drake’s neck. “Have I mentioned how much I really enjoy your lunchbreaks?”
“Hm. Maybe a few hundred times,” he murmured, laughter in his voice. He bent his head and claimed her mouth in a long, slow kiss, his bristles on her softer skin reminding her that he was all male, even before his cock surged against her belly. When he released her mouth, he added huskily, “Who needs food anyway?”
She giggled, relieved their conversation had cleared away his melancholic mood. Two guesses what he’d been thinking about—but she wouldn’t fall pregnant for the sole reason that she loved him, it wouldn’t be fair on the baby. She had to want a family, heart and soul, before she committed to one day being a mother. And she did want that with him, just not yet.
Drake reset the showerhead to power-spray, but she wasn’t ready for the force of water that hit her upper body all over. He grinned as she yelped, then spluttered with pretend fury.
But there was no pretending their hunger for one another when he spun her around, locked an arm across her breasts so that her spine mashed against his chest, while one of his knees pried her thighs apart. When he aimed a gush of water dead centre to her sensitised clit, she cried out, every nerve ending bursting back into life.
She squeezed in a convulsive breath, and then moaned surrender as she fell apart in his arms.
“All’s fair in love and war,” he growled into her ear.
He took away the showerhead only when he seemed satisfied she’d ridden out every orgasm she could possibly handle. She closed her eyes, thankful for his supportive arm. Her thighs were jelly and her knees too weak to support her.
“Mm. I agree,” he continued into the silence, “my lunchbreaks are wonderful.” He steadied her. “Tomorrow I intend to eat you out.”
Her nails sunk into his forearm. The mere thought of his lips, his tongue and mouth on her pussy sent her into a quivering wreck. Yet somehow she managed to remind him, “It’s my turn to host the Diamond Dinner tomorrow night.”
He nodded. “Exactly. I’ll be leaving you at your relaxed best.” He grinned as though he was the devil and her fairy godmother all rolled into one. “I know how uncomfortable at times you are attending the Double D’s, but we both know you’re more than worthy to be there.”
He returned the showerhead so that water cascaded over them from up high. She swiped an errant chunk of hair from her vision before blinking water from her eyes and taking in the delicious sight of her naked husband.
His shoulders tapered down to a narrow waist, his thighs thick, right along with his cock. She cleared her throat, trying for normal. “You do something to please me every single day, the dinner is the least I can do in return.”
Drake flipped the lever to off, stopping the cascade of water. “Darling, you please me every single day too,” he said huskily, his voice echoing in the sudden quiet, “just by wearing my wedding ring.”
Camilla smiled like a love-struck loon. She was a love-struck loon.
He leaned out the shower screen door, grabbed two towels and handed her one, before he brushed his hand beneath her jawline. “By the way, don’t forget Virginia is expecting you within the hour.”
“Oh crap.” All romantic thoughts dissolved and she towelled herself off quickly. Drake had called in a favour to Virginia, the fashionista who was not only part of the Diamond Dinner Club, but who also owned a chain of Exclusively Yours boutiques. To get a fitting at such short notice was pretty much unheard of, let alone having the owner there herself to supervise. “I’d better hurry.”
Drake sauntered bare-assed out of the bathroom, his rumpled suit, tie and underwear slung over an arm, his towel around his nape. “She said to dress casual, she’d prefer a bare canvas. And don’t worry, you have plenty of time. I’ll drop you off on my way to work.”
Forty-five minutes later, Drake was opening the BMW’s passenger door for her. He bent and kissed her goodbye. “Enjoy your fitting.”
Camilla smiled. Who’d have guessed a struggling waitress/university student with more debt than luck was now living the high life with the cream of Sydney’s elite? “I’ll do my best.”
Even a wallflower loved to dress up.
A little bell tinkled on the gold-lettered door of Sydney’s Exclusively Yours boutique as Camilla entered. She’d come dressed as instructed, but with her face free of make-up and in nothing more than designer jeans, a t-shirt and strappy sandals, she felt more than a little overawed and out of place as she stared at the spacious shop.
No cramming of clothes on rack after rack. Each dr
ess, shirt and skirt—even hats, shoes and handbags, were given their own space to showcase them to perfection. Jewellery sparkled on velvet cloths beneath a pristine counter, a couple of Willow’s beautifully handcrafted pieces in pride of place. And nothing as shabby as a price tag in sight.
“Can I help you?”
Camilla spun to face the saleslady, who was dressed in a pants suit and vintage earrings. But it wasn’t the fact that the other woman was dressed so elegantly that made her cringe inside and reminded her of the horrid inadequacy she’d once suffered from, it was the lack of warmth in the woman’s tone and eyes.
Her chin tilted. She wasn’t that insecure young woman anymore. She deserved to be here. “I have an appointment.”
The saleslady frowned, indecision clear in her eyes. “You’re certain?”
The clack-clack of high heels had Camilla turn, a forced smile in place, as the ever cool and composed Virginia approached. The older woman’s hair was perfectly styled into a coil at the back of her head, her pink jacket and tight skirt an impeccable match to her pearls and icy persona. Thankfully the latter had thawed a little over the past few months, from the moment she’d been swept off her high-heels by a gorgeous bar owner who clearly knew how to please her.
“Camilla, I’m so glad you could make it,” Virginia crooned.
“Thank you for seeing me at such short notice,” Camilla said in return, her face flushing at how insincere she sounded. She needed to work on the whole fake society thing.
Virginia turned to her assistant. “I hope you made Camilla feel welcome? She’s a very important client and…friend.”
Camilla wasn’t sure who looked more taken aback. The sales assistant for assuming she was some undesirable wannabe—or herself on hearing the word friend, even if it was a little forced.
Virginia clapped her hands at the sales assistant, all business. “Please don’t gawp, that’s not professional.” A smile softened her words. “I’ve selected some outfits at the back. Would you bring them to the dressing room.”
It wasn’t a question but the saleslady answered promptly, “Of course.”
As the other woman disappeared into the back of the shop, Virginia focused on Camilla. “I see Drake advised you to dress simply.” At Camilla’s nod, she added, “I’m so glad you listened. When a woman is stripped back to the basics, I’m better able to visualise what colours and fabrics will work and what won’t.” She shrugged. “It’s an art form.”
When Camilla tried on one dress after the other, she had to admit Virginia knew her stuff. Every piece was beautifully made and clung to her as though it was specially tailored for her. Her colouring this once didn’t clash, and instead was a foil to every garment that was presented.
“That one,” Virginia said with a pleased nod, “will be perfect for your dinner tomorrow night.”
Camilla stepped back, viewing the aqua dress from every angle and loving what she saw. The gown showed off her slender curves, the strapless bodice hugging her generous C cup breasts—all natural—and waist, before draping to just above her knees. A thigh-high split gave her ease of movement.
“I think you’re right.” She smiled at Virginia. “I’ll take these stilettos too.” Though she might need to practise walking in the damn things first; the heels were much higher than what she normally wore.
Virginia nodded. “Great choice.”
“Thanks.”
The other woman bestowed her with a small smile. “I’ll make sure the rest of the outfits you tried on are delivered later this afternoon, along with your dress and shoes.”
“Oh no, that’s not necessary.” As much as she’d loved all the quality pieces, she wasn’t going to justify spending Drake’s hard-earned money on them. “Just the one pair of shoes and dress will be fine.”
Virginia clucked her tongue. “Nonsense. Drake asked me to purchase everything you liked…and since you liked everything, that’s what I intend to do.” Her eyes softened a little. “Just be happy you have someone who cares enough to spoil you.”
Camilla shared a smile with Virginia. It was wonderful not to feel lashed by the older woman’s once resentful eyes; a relief to know the warm and fuzzy feeling within wasn’t hers alone to enjoy.
If she could only get Jorja—another of the women in the Diamond Dinner Club—on her side, she’d almost look forward to tomorrow night.
After the fittings, Virginia showed her to a plush lounge before the subdued sales assistant brought her a most welcome cup of coffee. As she sipped from the dainty cup, Virginia instructed the other woman to ring for a taxi.
“I would have dropped you off on my way,” Virginia said to Camilla with genuine apology, “except Boyd’s Bar is in the opposite direction.” She twittered like a much younger and less inhibited woman. “And I do so hate being late for Carter.”
***
Camilla stayed in her jeans and t-shirt once she’d arrived back at the apartment she shared with Drake. She peered into the refrigerator, deciding which simple staples would work for dinner. Their housekeeper and chef were both given Tuesdays and Wednesdays off, and although she loved having someone cook and clean for them, it was even nicer to have the penthouse to themselves.
It’d become something of a routine for her and Drake to cook a simple chicken stir-fry together, or grill a couple of seasoned steaks with garden salad on the side.
Drake walked in as she was crushing a clove of garlic into some butter in a bowl. She added a smidge of dried mixed herbs when he dropped his briefcase near the table and strode toward her. He turned her around and kissed her full on the mouth. “Mm. You taste good,” he murmured.
She smiled up at him, loving him so much her chest fairly ached. “Don’t go getting any ideas.” Not this time. “You need some real food first.”
His eyes flashed. “I’m not sure I can wait that long.”
She caressed the bulge in his pants, rubbing back and forth as she said huskily, “Anyone would think I was prepping our dinner in nothing but my birthday suit.”
“I can only dream,” he growled.
“That’s your dream?” She arched a brow, feeling deliciously naughty when she untied her apron and slung it over a hook before she slowly undressed, tossing her clothes into a pile on the floor. Only once she was naked, did she ask, “Any other dreams I should know about?”
His voice came out low, husky. “Why? Are you planning to fulfil them all?”
Before she could answer he stepped forward, deleting the space between them. His mouth crashed onto hers even as he cupped her arse and hauled her onto the bench.
Their kiss was close to brutal but she didn’t care. She wanted it hard and fast. She was wet for him, and beyond ready.
She fumbled for the zipper on his pants, and he pulled his mouth from hers to help her with the task. With his cock jutting out hard and proud, she splayed her legs wide, giving him the ultimate view of her moist, pink flesh.
His breath came out in a rush, his jaw locking tight and his arousal hardening, as though steel. He tugged her closer to the lip of the benchtop, before he one-handed his shaft. But there was no need for guidance when his cock was a heat-seeking missile and her cunt was a furnace.
His stare meeting hers, he thrust high and hard, spearing into her, filling her.
“Drake,” she gasped, moving her arms behind her, her hands splayed wide to keep balance. Her lips parted and her head fell back as he pounded into her, the wet slap of their flesh almost as loud as the drumming of her heels against the island bench doors.
“Don’t hold back,” he grated, “I’m not. Going to. Last. Much. Longer.”
She whimpered, so close to an orgasm she could almost taste it. But it was all happening so fast. Too fast. Drake’s eyes glittered like diamonds as he stilled, then plunged hard into her with a long and loud groan, his seed flooding into her like a relentless tide.
He leaned his head onto her shoulder, his breath ragged in her ear. “I’m sorry, my love,” he
murmured.
He stepped back, disconnecting from her before he repositioned his boxer briefs and pants. He clasped her chin and assessed her. “I almost climbed out of my skin to fuck you,” he conceded. “I reached my peak too early, didn’t give you a chance to catch up.”
It was a first and they both knew it. “I don’t need to come to enjoy fucking you.”
He smiled at her choice of words. “You know exactly what to say to make a man feel good.” His stare heated. “But there’s no reason this has to end without you being satisfied.”
He reached out and touched her tender flesh. She closed her eyes on a blissful sigh, angling her pussy for him to better manipulate her swollen little clit, and enabling him to massage faster, harder, while hot tingles quickly built within.
Her eyes opened on a wave of intensity that pushed her up and over. His name spilled hoarsely from her lips and she shuddered against his hand.
Sucking in some air, she blinked, trying to gain some sort of composure. “I think…we’re even.”
He chuckled before he clasped her hands and helped her down from the benchtop. “Indulge me just one last thing?” he murmured.
“Of course.” Anything.
“Cook dinner in nothing but your apron.”
She shouldn’t be so damn pleased he approved of her body. She grinned as she slipped the apron over her head. If it made him happy seeing her semi-naked and with her butt bare and her inner thighs coated by their pleasures, then…so be it.
As Drake tied the apron strings behind her waist, she realised there was something deliciously hot and liberating in making dinner with the touch of air on her arse cheeks and Drake’s stare roaming over her.
Not even fifteen minutes later they were seated at the table, their dinner a centrepiece of herbed garlic bread, garden salad and marinated chicken skewers.
Camilla sat carefully on the edge of her seat, only half-conscious that her breasts were giving Drake a nice display. She bit into some of the bread and Drake smiled lazily, his attention more on her than the food. “Is something wrong?”