by Judy Jarvie
“Kill me. Yell at me. Yeah. I get that. Tell me something I don’t know.”
“Kiss you, you bloody arse-head woman! I’ve wanted to snog you since I met you!”
I stare at him, so shocked I rise from my seat. “Shut the eff up!”
Will runs his hand through his hair and his jaw is tight as he stares down at me. “I want to kiss you and touch you till we can’t see straight. You make my fingers itch. You make me so crazy the only thing I can see is your lips and I have to swear at myself not to try to do something about it.” Will says the electrifying words calmly and with ominous portent. Then he bends his dark head down to mine and waits. Patiently, mouths almost touching. “Now do you understand me?”
“Bad idea,” I warn.
“All the best ones are.”
Seconds later, he swoops. He pushes his lips to mine but I stall. “You should give this thought.”
He growls in his throat. “I don’t think my body gives a shit about the thinking side of things. Fuck logic, Izzy. I’m not made of stone!”
His lips touch mine. I pull back but the smell of him and the touch of his hands on my arms drives my libido on a swift joyride.
“What about Tessa? Will she walk in?”
“She’s at home. With four kids and her fireman husband. Do you only kiss when there’s an audience, woman?”
Again his lips are against mine. I gasp in my throat but I don’t stop him. I suck in a mini breath and close my eyes. I push my lips into his warm and minty-scented ones. His breath is lovely, his mildly lemony cologne gives me goosebumps. And the feel of him up close has every neuron in me clamoring for more.
So I open my mouth and let him in. His tongue slides ably inside the seam of my lips and it dances against mine as I melt in his arms. He doesn’t need a second invitation and I marvel at his kissing skills. He’s a stunning striker in all ways. His fingers are in my damp, finger-combed hair and he’s kissing me as I’ve never been kissed before. Wow.
Then he’s my undoing. Will moans softly at the back of his throat and it’s an adorable sound. Especially when his strong, muscular arms encase me and I feel him holding me in gladiator fashion. It’s like a spin on a helter-skelter and I’ve got an unlimited ride ticket.
I let Will kiss me and I kiss him back. It’s been a long time and I’m gratified that I don’t need a refresher. It’s like getting back on a bike and I’m off in third gear and wait a minute—now I’m zooming down the hill of snogging prowess at full speed!
His tongue tantalizes mine. His hand is near my groin, over my robe. I’m gasping for more and I can tell he’s pretty fired up too. I find I like it more than a little and I tease him wantonly by pushing closer to him, playing with wildfire. Thank God, I mouthwashed and used the floss in the bathroom.
“Will.” I put my hands up and touch his firm jaw line. I look down and the bulge in his white linen trousers can be denied by no man.
“I’d suggest slow. You’re still an invalid, remember?”
“And we’re making out in Paul Bates’ kitchen in clear view of an open panorama kitchen window.”
“What of it? We have twenty-feet-high fences round the perimeter.”
“I’ve never snogged while being watched by a gang of Bambis before.” I nod to the wildlife through the windowpane. The nature picture should include think bubbles with ‘WTF?’ written inside. When we both laugh, the deer bolt away.
“See. Problem solved.”
We blink at each other, then Will seizes my hand. “Shit, that’s it. We can’t go frightening the wildlife. I have a plan.”
He pulls me off the seat and picks me up like a daisy plucked from a lawn. I gasp as he strides across the kitchen.
“I sense the start of a bad idea.”
“Stop being such a ruddy, controlling English teacher for once in your life, woman! Don’t you believe in spontaneity?”
His command makes me quiver. And he snogs me again. My nipples peak within their fluffy velvet cocoon, as if reminding me that this is the worst idea ever in the entire world.
“For a bad idea, it feels damn hot to me,” he growls.
Big revelation on this one, Tweet it at #sexonfire and #erectnipplesandgaggingforit—I’m a goner. When I’m in his arms and not facing him off like a shrew, Will’s divine. I want him right back. He could rough me up anytime. Any which way.
He kicks open a door on one side of the kitchen and lights switch on automatically. It’s a large storeroom that could ably cater to any discerning celebrity chef’s outlandish ingredient needs. There are bottles of condiments and ingredients on towering shelves and foods and delicacies piled high.
“Paul’s pantry. Is this private enough?”
“Depends what for?” I stare around. “He must have a gold card at the deli. But I fancy those stuffed pimento olives. If we can find a box of crackers to put them on…”
“Fuck!” he shouts at me. “No crackers. No Bambi eyes. No disturbances! No denials that this isn’t what it is and necessary for us both! And, finally, no evading me.” He slips me onto a nearby high-backed chair beside a large cook’s prep area.
From the way he’s already caressing my body through fabric, he clearly knows where all the turn-on knobs are located. And I don’t mean on the cooker. Said knobs are singing siren songs for his speedy attention.
“I don’t like cooking much.”
He glares at me. “I only intend to be tasting you.” His eyes darken and my womb goes on turbo boost. Which is perplexing, given my lack of underwear.
I lift my chin to whisper. “What about you going in to school?”
Will’s growl is sexy as hell by my earlobe and causes a delicious lick of thrill. “Sod work when the party’s started in your bathrobe and I’ve got a VIP backstage pass. If you’re up for this—we might be a hot killer combo taste sensation. Let’s put it to the test.”
Chapter Eight
“Iz.”
“Yeah.”
“The robe is affecting me in good ways.”
“I always said the black silk and red lace gig was overrated. No contest compared to plush microfiber by the meter.”
“I’d shag you wearing a sack.” As if to prove it, he squeezes my breast gently and kisses my neck.
“Your charm school etiquette needs a refresher, Darby.”
“I meant I’m all over you like a rash in a good way.” Will nips my neck to silence me. I think I drive him crazy. God help me. “Fuck, Izzy. I’m totally hot for you.” Will tugs my robe collar and presses his lips to mine. The kiss is molten and leaves me panting. He pulls me close.
“I can tell.” He knows exactly what I’m referring to. How could he not.
“I’m turned on because you’re torture with talons.”
“But I have short nails.”
“I mean I want you so bad it’s bittersweet. I need to take time to feel connection with you but when I’m with you, I can barely hold back. Can you handle that? If I want more from you than I can give back?”
Will stares down at my now gaping robe. There’s plenty of ripe cleavage on display.
“What do you mean, Will?”
“I want to ravish you. But I might want to do it the slow route.”
“I still don’t follow. You want us to take things slow? Now?” I say.
“I want you fast. But when it comes to me, I may need patience and time. For a while I may be a one-sided lover.”
“Meaning?”
“I want to give you orgasms. Lots of them. But I might not want to go there myself for now.”
Oh. Wow. That’s a bolt of a bombshell.
“Don’t you like me to touch you?”
“It’s just… Well. I need time. Can you handle an affair with me on those terms?”
I pout for effect. “Multiple orgasms. No expectation of reciprocal pleasure? Will, you ask a lot. As sick as it is, I’ll take it.”
“This is the cliff edge. Do we jump? I can’t guarantee it’ll be a smo
oth ride. But I sense you and me together will blow both our worlds.”
Fuck. I’m still processing what he’s asked of me. I want to ask why but something holds me back. He must have his reasons. And he’s told me it’s not me, it’s him. Do I believe and proceed?
I watch Will, considering my reply. He’s come clean and admitted attraction. In truth he’s every lyric from all the Pointer Sisters songs come to life. Do I smart crack and stand off? Or for once in my life do I grab this situation by the lapels and wrap my legs around it? I vote Pointer Sisters all the way.
I level completely. “Will, inside this normal, boring disguise, I read erotica and dream wild dreams. I have unexplored sex fantasies. I crave excitement like a starved fox pacing the perimeter of a chicken farm. And you’re opening a charcoal grill of sensual thrill with no expectation? Fuck sensible. It’s time to snatch the platter and savor.”
Will offers an approving nod and his eyes dilate as, inside me, something melts more. He touches my cheek, strokes behind my ear. Then he kisses me and I reel in wonder at the oblivion rush that is Will Darby, sex god. He spins me into orbit with the merest touch, and this isn’t about fulfilling my forfeit—this is beyond meager requirements. Will makes my pulse thrum with need. I’m completely certain that sex together will shatter all else and replace it with parameters that will redefine lovemaking in my future.
“I want to give you pleasure, Izzy. I want to turn your life into sensual nirvana. And I love your kisses.”
“I’m something of a fan of yours.” I feel his smile as he kisses around my jaw line. For some reason Creole Lady Marmalade plays in my head but it totally fits. This is the closest I’ve ever got to wild. I smile and Will stops kissing.
“What?”
“You make me all hump-ready hot bordello hostess and I don’t even have a corset in my closet.” I kiss Will with urgency. He makes me want to be bad and ramp up the heat. Maybe it’s because he’s given me boundaries and limits? My skin is prickling in a good way and I yearn to kiss him, touch him and explore his body. I reach for him but he catches my wrists.
“Let me be good to you, baby.”
My robe falls open when I move back and Will lets out a hiss.
He parts the fabric farther with his fingers. “Nice view.”
I kiss him deeply and tempt him with my tongue. Then I nibble at his ears, his neck. When he pulls me back, I revel in the thrill of the way our tongues meet and that his breathing makes my own breath catch. There’s deep longing that’s been lurking inside me, like a storm that’s brewed overlong in muggy weather. It’s building to cause serious structure damage and possibly a power cut.
Since I’ve begun to read and write erotica and feel its calling, I’ve needed this. An illicit, spontaneous affair. I tease Will with my tongue and get a reaction like a swiftly rolling boil from him. My hand goes down to the bulge that’s straining in his pants but a strong hand stops me.
He’s as turned on as I am. Why the prohibition rules?
“No touching. For now. I’ll tell you when that changes.”
Will lays me back in the seat. I’m all but falling out of my robe. I push it aside, hardly caring that he’s no more the gentleman and suddenly fast and eager. Will sweeps it off me and I’m naked in the pantry.
“Wow—that was fast.”
“I can be when the moves count.” He removes his top and, in seconds, he’s shirtless. His chest is a hymn to worked-out, glossy skin and a sexy dusting of dark hair leads the eye lower than Will permits. His ramped breathing makes me horny.
“I want you, but I want to kiss you everywhere. Do you approve?”
I nod and he lowers his mouth to my ear.
“I can’t hear.”
“Yes.”
Already there’s a deep ache between my legs. As if sensing my thoughts and feelings, he instructs, “Let me touch you below.”
As his hand meets my mound, my head is whooping for joy and trying not to listen to the screeches of trepidation in my head that tell me this is uncharted terrain. I do as he says. Sir Darby must be obeyed, surely? Will puts his fingers to my core and flicks deftly. He rubs and I know that I’m hot and totally damp.
“I have plans.” The next thing I know, my wrists are held together tightly. At this point my brain and my womb go on crazy turned-on synch. Will’s tying something. It’s the robe belt. He must’ve kept it? “You like to be tied?”
“Never tried.”
“You want to?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Good answer, Miss Tennant.”
I’m tied with my hands behind the back of the chair. At his mercy and arched for exploration.
Again his mouth comes close and his breath tickles the skin of my neck. He dips lower and takes my nipple between his teeth, then laves it with his tongue.
“You like?”
“Uh-huh. Oh yep.”
He gently sucks as, with his hand, he does serious kneading and teasing to my other breast that sends my privates Def Con One. “I will kiss you all over. And then I’m going to make you come with my hand and my mouth. Deal?”
“Definitely.” He’s made me horny as hell saying the words. Already he’s stroking the flesh of my breasts in soothing, smoothing strokes and I’m finding it rather stimulating. Each sweep of my flesh is like a whole body caress. My neurons and nerve endings are in a jangle but it’s a good mess. A hot one.
“Would you like a blindfold?”
“Thought you’d never ask.”
I love his low throaty chuckle. It’s as if he’d read my favorite bits of Silver Tie Guy and thrown them together for maximum heat in minimum time. He’s my Heaven-Sent Mr. Horny. He stands and fetches something from the rail. I suspect it’s an apron. It gets a whole new use in Will’s hands.
“Was that a yes?”
“Yes, blindfold. It’s a goer.”
“That would be, ‘Yes, Sir’.”
“Yes, Sir.” I lick my lips to wet my parched mouth. Suddenly, I’m shaking and everything is heightened as if I’m on top of the highest Christmas tree in the world and just as lit up.
Will is doing exactly as promised—touching my skin. He swirls with palms and fingers and kisses me. My breasts, then my thighs, calves. My feet. My ankles. My décolletage. Who knew such places could be this erotic? He licks my collarbone too, as if savoring a meal. Then he comes back to my pussy.
“Relax, Izzy. This is a taster for us both.”
I say nothing. His finger is on me. Then in me. Then on again. He’s at my folds and I’m wet for him and up for whatever he wants to do—I’m unable to stop myself grinding his hand and pushing into those fingers. It feels so good, it’s better than a continental chocolates buffet.
“You like that. Me too.” His words are pure provocative mantras.
His fingers slide over my clit tip and he strokes, then slides. The restraint heightens the sensation. The blindfold has me feeling more turned on than ever. My senses are on overdrive, I’m shaking and I’m panting. He’s barely touched me but I’m close to the edge and could scream. The rest of my body urges him on as I get off on his hand. My heart drums, breathing’s ragged.
Then it’s his mouth that claims me and I’m shaken, stirred and wired to the max.
With enthusiastic licks of his tongue, he masters my clitoris. I shudder with need at the impact of his every touch. His finger teases my breast and my nipple thrums to an aching peak. I moan for more and his mouth responds to my call. His hand is on the folds of my molten pussy and I can’t breathe or hold in the noises.
I’m thrashing on the chair and all I can do is enjoy every stroke. And now I’m losing it and about to go over without him. I sense it’s a whopper like I’ve never had before. The deft flicks and pressure are perfect for purpose.
“Oh hell. Will, fuck! Don’t stop!”
“Thought you were lost for words, baby. Who needs to talk?”
His hand’s back on my clit this time in earnest and he knows the moves t
hat prolong my excitement. I’m shouting my appreciation and it echoes around the pantry—wow. The smell of citrusy hygiene wash will now forever remind me of spinning into erotic orbit on a chair, under Will’s expert hand. Hands tied, blindfolded and blissfully overcome.
That caressing hand claims my clitoris fully and my body can’t get enough as it explodes in waves of pleasure and I’m pushing myself up and into his hand and away with force and pumping movements. Unsure if it’s for relief or to heighten this amazing sensation even further.
If this is desire, I want a lifetime subscription. He’s barely touched me—I haven’t touched him at all. But I’m screaming and wild as Will takes me to heaven—without a season ticket or a view of the goals. But plenty of appreciation of performance.
* * * *
I’m in the cocoon of Will’s arms. His smell is divine but the spell breaks like a shop window in a night riot when he removes my ties and blindfold and pushes me to standing, then slaps my behind.
“You. Are. Bad.”
Shit. Did that just happen? He made me come and now he’s hurting my backside? If I wasn’t a hard-core erotica fan I’d probably be having serious worries right now. Mr. Wonderful turned into Mr. Buttock Whip Crack in a blink.
“Why did you just slap my behind?”
I’m rather excited by this. Yeah, yeah, I know some women would be grabbing their bonnet and calling the plods. But I’m a seasoned erotica girl and this is a whole new side to Will that has me doing jiggery-pokery.
“You just slapped my arse.”
“I did and I wanted to and I want to do it again. Izzy the Inflammatory. I find you make me itch to take revenge.”
He didn’t hurt me. I can tell it’s in semi-jest, though it was a decided slap. And it was rather nice. I don’t imagine I’ll have a welted bum to show for it. But still, it was a surprise.
“I’ll do it again unless you apologize.”
“For what?”
“Handbag pic. Say ‘sorry, Sir’.” His tone suggests he’s either pissed off or good at pretending he is. He sits on the seat where he made me orgasm and looks dark and tousled and even his nipples are gorgeous. He pulls my spanked arse down to sit on his knee. The erection is back to say hi.