The Mad British

by Leick, Hera

  I feel him smile against my skin. "Stay still," he orders. He trails a line of kisses down my tummy, dipping his tongue into my belly button as his large calloused hands come up to squeeze my breasts. I moan again and grip his wrists with trembling hands.

  "James," I whine again, and gasp loudly when I feel his lips make their way down my hipbone, sending blazing hot threads of desire through me.

  "Shssh," he breathes against my skin, squeezing my breasts again. His warm breath heats my skin as he teases me, pressing his lips to my inner thigh, and then the other, back and forth until he reaches my centre. I am shaking now, anticipating the feeling, and I know I won’t last long.

  I hear him inhale deeply and realise he is taking in my scent. He moans softly from between my legs the instant before I feel his tongue lap deeply against me. I practically leap off the bed at the sensation, gasping a string of curses. He quickly moves his hands to my hips to clamp me tightly in place while he continues to work his lips and tongue against me. He closes round my clit and draws it into his mouth, swirling his tongue against it. My hands fist into the bedding as I bite my tongue to suppress a scream.

  The tip of his tongue dips lower along my slit, parting me, before swirling into me gently. I gasp, feeling his tongue move in and out of me, and my building orgasm warms my lower stomach. His tongue slowly slides out and teases my clit until I can’t take it anymore.

  It feels like all that is me, is burning up in an instant of white-hot fire, as the waves of pleasure shoot through me.

  He slides up my body, his eyes dark with lust, and I reach out to grab his head, pulling him in close to devour his lips with my own. I want to taste me in him. He gives me his tongue and I suck against it eagerly, tasting myself and loving it. For a moment he kisses me with almost violent passion, his tongue never leaving my mouth, getting off on me enjoying my own taste. One hand digs hard into my hair, while the other reaches down between my legs, teasing my nub, and then his fingers thrust inside of me.

  My eyes fly open when he curls his fingers upward inside. He opens his eyes and looks into mine, watching as I pull my mouth from his to moan again. My heart stops as warmth begins to flood me again, my body starting to tremble.

  "Do it," he commands in my ear, never letting up with his fingers. He latches onto my earlobe, and I clench down and tighten round his fingers before coming again. This time the waves are sharper, and deeper, coming from inside of me. I moan breathlessly into his ear and feel him grow even harder.

  I curse, clutching his back, my nails digging deep into his skin, making him hiss with pain. I push against him, forcing him onto his back. His hand never lets up out of my hair and he tugs it, forcing my head down to kiss me deeply again.

  I move my mouth down to his neck, and he grunts in pleasure when my tongue finds his nipple. I straddle him and feast my eyes onto the ridges of his heavily muscled stomach, and lean down to outline each muscle with the tip of my tongue, following the tattoo curving round his side. I continue, tracing the skin just over the waistband of his briefs, and I love the way he sucks in his breath and jerks in his underwear.

  I reach down to grasp the elastic with both hands and yank it down over his hips and thighs, down until I pull the briefs off completely. I reach for him, taking him in my hand, realising that while I’d known he was large from our previous encounter, he now feels even bigger than I’d remembered.

  I stroke him for a moment, watching as his eyes close and his head falls back on the pillow. I hold him tight and swirl my fist up and down his length. His hand suddenly closes over mine.

  "Babe," he rasps throatily.

  I know that is supposed to be a signal, something to let me know he isn’t going to last much longer if I keep this up. I know that, but I bob my head anyway and before he can move, I take his length in my mouth.

  He hisses, his hand fisting into my hair. His eyes fix on me, watching my cheeks suck round him as my head bobs up and down, taking more of his length into my mouth and throat. He lets out a stream of hushed curses as my eyes meet his, crinkling at the corners to let him know I am loving every inch of him.

  I reach his tip and squeeze my cheeks round it hard, as my tongue swirls over the top. I move my mouth up and down and round his tip, squeezing out some of his sweet nectar. Tasting him, I moan deep in my throat and slide all the way back down on him.

  "Fuck," he hisses. His other hand snakes into my hair and he tugs, gently but insistently. I reluctantly remove my mouth from him, desperate to feel him come inside my mouth, and swipe my hand over my lips as I slowly sit up. He sits up too, pulling me in for a deep, searching kiss. My hands come to his shoulders first and then wrap round his neck and head, pulling him as close as I can.

  He flips me onto my back, puts protection on, and presses me into the bed. “Christ, I want you in so many ways.” He seems to tip over some kind of precipice then and he fists one hand into my hair while the other runs up my side, leaving a little trail of goose bumps on my skin in his wake.

  He pulls my nipple into his mouth with his tongue and sucks it while he reaches down to take a hold of himself. He slides his tip up and down my slippery folds, teasing me, and the feeling of his tip just against my sex is enough to make me want to come right there.

  My legs spread wide for him and he brings his mouth to mine, kissing me deeply while he slowly enters me. My walls shudder round him and stretch to let him in when he pushes the rest of his member into me at once. I gasp sharply.

  He begins to move slowly at first, hitting me deep as he returns to my mouth. My hips lift with every thrust, pushing back against him. He nuzzles my neck and my hand reaches back to grab a pillow, while the other grips the back of his head. He picks up his pace slightly, his cock pumping into me deliciously. He pulls out of me suddenly and rolls onto his back, taking my hands to help me straddle him. “You said you wanted to be on top, love.” A smirk plays across my lips, still trembling from my most recent peak, and my centre slides against his thigh, moving over him. He pushes himself up slightly so his back is halfway up against the headboard. “I've wanted to do this the moment I saw you in those black stockings. I can’t get that image out of my head.”

  I take his hands and settle them on my hips, squeezing my hands over his to make him tighten his grip. His tongue sweeps his bottom lip between his teeth briefly as he squeezes me tightly. I spread my thighs wide on either side of him, slowly lowering myself down onto him.

  He curses when I roll my hips until he’s completely buried inside. I begin moving my hips in a slow, forward rolling motion. The sensation is incredible and I have to bite my lip to keep from screaming. My heart thumps out of control as he slides a hand up the middle of my body, before dropping his hand to where I am flushed against his pelvis, and starts to stroke my tender, hard little nub in time with my slow, deep thrusts. My eyes latch onto his and I reach out to grip his hair as I slowly ride him.

  I brace my hands down on his hips and my head lolls back, my hair tumbling down my back. He hisses a short, sharp breath when my hips change directions and start rolling figure eights on him. He reaches out and slips a hand into my hair, round the back of my head, pulling it forward until my eyes, hazy with lust, focus on him.

  "Look at me," he demands. I bite my lip as a lock of my hair falls over one eye, meeting his intense gaze. His hands slip to my hips and he grips them firmly, guiding me into an up-and-down rhythm on him. He lifts his hips slightly with every downwards thrust I make. I lean forward and start thrusting on him harder.

  As he is sitting up slightly, my breasts press against his chest and he wraps his arms round me, pulling me close, palming my butt as I move hard against him. My tongue slips out between my lips and he darts his head forward to catch it.

  I feel his breath on my cheek suddenly pick up speed and I start to tremble again. He pulls his lips from mine and says in a ragged breath, "Come hard for me."

  A low, whiny moan pulls at the edges of my breath, building on its
elf, until I cry out, shuddering violently for the third time. I lean my forehead against his shoulder, panting, sweaty, as I ride through my aftershocks.

  He gently lifts me upward, pulling out of me again, and guides me to lie on my stomach. He moves my legs apart with a knee and covers my back with his chest, moving to lie on top of me. He nuzzles the back of my neck before pulling my earlobe into his mouth.

  "I want more, Adelaide," he groans dominantly, while he holds his length in his hand. He presses his fingertips to my chin gently, guiding my face back toward his, and enters my mouth, tongue first, as he slowly works himself into me with slow, short thrusts. I moan into his mouth when I feel his pelvis flat against me, feel him buried deep inside me. I reach up, grabbing the back of his head to hold him there and kiss him with everything I have.

  He thrusts slowly and deeply at first, and I love how his firm lower stomach feels against my bum, love how he groans into my mouth. His own need seems to overtake him, and his thrusts gradually start to pick up speed and force.

  "Oh God," I whimper. "Harder."

  He presses his forehead to my temple, thrusting fast and hard. "Do you like it rough?" he rasps, teething at my jaw.

  "Fuck. . ." I murmur. "Yes. . ."

  He pushes himself up on his hands, and with seemingly new purpose, pumps into me harder and faster. I twist my fists into the blanket hard, and teethe the pillow.

  "Come again," he says through gritted teeth. "I want to hear you scream my name." He sweeps my hair over my shoulder and kisses the skin of my back, running his tongue over the nape of my neck until I jerk, crying out, squeezing tight round him, screaming his goddamn name.

  As my body rocks through my orgasm I feel his start to build. He bites into the back of my neck and comes, long and hard, growling through it. I squeeze my eyes shut as he throbs into me, easing his bite on my skin as I whimper softly underneath him. He leans his forehead between my shoulder blades as we both try to catch our breaths, and he kisses my back, my shoulders, my neck, my jaw, turning my face gently to catch my lips.

  "James," I murmur, my voice sleepy and thick with satisfaction. "Don't even think about moving."

  "Christ no," he breathes back. "Couldn't even if I wanted to."

  I feel completely spent and satiated, but know that if I had this every day for the rest of my life, it still wouldn't be enough.

  I want more of him.

  We lie entwined, the air cold now against my skin. My eyes are closing as he presses a soft kiss against my lips. I smile in the dark.

  "Negative seven," I whisper, my voice hoarse. I feel a gentle shake as he laughs softly.

  "Negative five," he corrects.

  I don’t have enough energy to respond, drifting off into deep sleep with James' arm wrapped protectively round me.

  Hatter

  My mind wakes before my eyes open slowly. I’m first aware of the sunlight warming my face, then of the pocket of warmth my body heat has created under the duvet. Then I remember there’s supposed to be another body there, one that rocked me to the core last night—so goddamn much, I can’t believe I’ve enough testosterone left to wake up with alarm cock.

  My hand reaches out to find her, and when I feel nothing but an empty mattress, my eyes fly open.

  Déjà vu.

  She did not do it again?

  But the sound of wood creaking and soft brushing burns all my worries away.

  “Thought I did it again, didn’t you?”

  “Never,” I say, my voice groggy. I clear my throat. “Last night got you hooked on my sugar. There’s no way you’re leaving me now. Besides, you’ll get withdrawal symptoms.”

  “Let me guess. . . only your sugar can cure me?”

  “Damn straight, love, so don’t even think about it.”

  Adelaide is sitting in a wooden chair next to her bed, stark naked, grinning at me as she draws on a sketchpad with a charcoal pencil.

  I grin wide.

  Her legs are splayed up on the bed as she balances the pad on her knees, giving me a clear view all the way up. I can’t help but look there first.

  "Go back to sleep," she mutters playfully. "I prefer it when you’re quiet."

  “Not what you said last night.”

  I groan, blinking painfully. After sleeping in my contacts, it feels like they’re scraping the insides of my eyelids with hot rusty nails. "Come back to bed so I can remind you, woman."

  "Nah." She suddenly pulls out the paintbrush that’s been holding her hair up. It falls in a curtain round her shoulders as she pops the brush handle between her teeth and starts tying it back again. "I want to finish this." She glances down, realises she’s flashing herself for all my cock needs, and for a moment, looks as if she’s going to put her legs down and die with embarrassment. The look passes, and instead she smiles wider and leans back, spreading open further. "Morning, handsome."

  Seeing her completely naked body in full daylight, curving and soft and unblemished, forces me to pull her to the bed.

  "What’re you drawing, love?" I reach over and run my fingers across her leg, feeling her shiver underneath my touch.

  "You."

  "Can I see?"

  "No."

  "Why?" My hand travels up her smooth, silky thigh.

  "Because I'm not finished."

  "Don't care." She hands me the pad and my jaw drops when I see what she’s been working on. "How long have you been working on this?"

  "I don't know, maybe half an hour? That's why the shading isn't done on the right side."

  I look at her again. "To hell with the shading, this is incredible."

  “It’s not finished yet but I’m happy with the shading so far. It’s tight enough to capture the light glinting off your sexy bed hair and those to-die-for thick lashes of yours.” God, she’s incredible. I’ve really lucked out with her. "Why are you looking at me like that? I told you I’m not done. That's why your ear looks so two-dimensional."

  I’m silent for a while, letting her finish drawing my ear, watching her furrow her cute little dark eyebrows as she blends. "Let me draw you."

  "Can you even draw?" She laughs, picking another pad off the floor and hands it to me. "There's a number one pencil in there. It's soft enough to do some shading."

  She could have handed me a crayon for all the good it does. My sketch is over in minutes.

  "Let me see," she says, eagerly. I flip it over and she bursts into laughter. I’ve drawn a stick figure, with a bow stuck in the baldhead, and round cartoon breasts. A speech bubble hovers above the head, reading: James sucks at drawing!

  She drops her sketchpad down on the floor and crawls in next to me. "But he's good at other things," she purrs into my ear.

  I pick up the pencil again and make an adjustment. Another character is speaking off the page in another speech bubble: Like what?

  She pushes the pad to the side and hovers over me, her hair falling round her shoulders. "He can show me. . . Like how to do the Sultry Saddle."

  I roll on top of her, my hands braced on either side of her head. “Damn straight. And he can beat last night's score by at least one.” She giggles and I wiggle my brow. “Morning wood is on his side, love.”

  14

  Queen

  I WAKE UP alone.

  It’s nothing new.

  I spend a few extra minutes burrowing under the covers, pointing my toes and stretching my sore calf muscles. I finally crawl out, naked, and stumble for the bathroom. I need a shower, stat.

  I’ve been dating James for over three months now, since our first date in South Bank, and his luxury Kensington apartment still looks like an estate agent is going to burst through the door at any given moment and start showing buyers around with a tape measure. It’s bigger and nicer than any place I have set foot in, with huge wall-to-ceiling windows that light up at night with the city lights.

  I am, however, a bit dismayed to learn he sees nothing wrong with bare walls, minimal furniture, and nothing more personal
than a toothbrush. The bedroom is bare except for the bed—this I can’t be mad at, since I never knew the love one can have for memory foam—a mahogany bureau, and for some odd reason, a painting I had sold Preston a while back. It’s quite ghastly in retrospect.

  The master bathroom is a bit better, mostly because I’ve slowly been filling it with my own toiletries, including a baby bamboo plant I made from a cutting of one of my own bigger ones, and a soap dish that Steffen had crafted for me as a birthday gift one year.

  I clear away the empty beer bottles that tend to accumulate in the shower for some reason, then turn on the water and start washing away the smudges of charcoal, that for once, are not on my fingers, but smeared over most of my body. I think back to last night and stifle hot trembles at the memory.

  Last night had gotten a little wild. I have the teeth marks on my left boob to prove it. Actually, it’s kind of sore. He had gotten a little over-excited once I’d started giving orders, but I’m pretty sure the words ‘bite me’ weren't to be taken literally in those kinds of situations. Maybe he’s getting back at me for leaving those marks on his neck last week.

  He had left early, shortly after dawn, like he usually does, and probably won’t return until late evening. Twice he has gone on business trips, which are usually lonely for a time, but the reunions are quite pleasurable.

  And naked.

  I clean up and pull my clothes off the floor. I’m running late. Steffen will start calling and yelling at any minute.

  James’ driver, Priyam, is waiting with the car downstairs on the street. "Good morning, Miss Queen," he greets. "Mr Hatter thought you might be running late and asked me to take you to your meeting. We'll go now?" He opens the door for me.

  James knows me too well already.

  True enough, Steffen is parked at a table in The Coffee Hole, sipping the foam from his vanilla latte and scowling.