April pushes aside jars of spices and a chopping board covered in onion skins and discarded vegetables to make way for another mixing bowl on the bench. A metal spoon falls from a neighbouring dish, and clangs on the floor. She picks it up, and tosses it in the sink, which is overflowing with bowls, plates and cups.
This kitchen should be determined a natural disaster zone. I don’t cook, really, so I have no clue, but is it always this messy?
“Do you want me to help you clean up or something?” I ask, not knowing where in the hell I’d start.
“We’ll eat first, then see how we feel. I don’t wanna waste our time doing dishes.”
Sweet. Me neither. Not when there are other things I’d rather be doing.
“Sure,” I say.
I look over to the small dining table she’d set up with cutlery and wine glasses.
“I’ll make myself useful with the wine, then.”
“Good idea. Sit down, I’ll bring dinner over.”
I pour us each a glass of red and sit down. April places the bubbling paella dish on a heat mat in the middle of the table. She wanders off and returns with two shallow white bowls and a serving spoon.
“Dig in,” she says, smiling proudly as she hands me a bowl.
“After you,” I say. What, am I trying to be a fucking gentleman now? Usually acting less than gentlemanly gets me what I’m really after.
April serves some on her plate, and then on mine. I don’t wait long before I take a mouthful. The flavours all sing in harmony on my tongue.
“Fuck,” I mutter under my breath.
“Is that a good fuck or a bad fuck?” she asks, tilting her head.
“Definitely a good one. This is … oh, God … it’s like heaven in my mouth.”
She laughs out loud. “Yeah, it’s not bad, huh?”
“No, you’re an amazing cook.”
“Yeah, I’m just that awesome,” she says and chuckles before wrapping those lips around her fork.
This girl gets closer to perfect every time I see her. She can cook. Not just anything, but a mouth-watering, hard-on inducing paella, with a variety of different seafood cooked to perfection. I’ve been to practically every high-end restaurant in Sydney and this is unbelievable.
Our conversation comes to a standstill while we eat, but every now and then I freeze, and stare at April as she indulges me with varying degrees of yummy noises. I swear sometimes it’s like I’m doing rude things to her instead of just eating dinner.
We eat, and talk some more as the wine goes down a treat. When we’ve eaten enough, April orders me into the lounge room. I refill our wine glasses and take them with me.
I melt into her plush sofa, after having perhaps one wine too many. Red wine seems to send me into a more relaxed state than anything else I drink. Or maybe it’s the company.
April sits a plate of chocolate-coated strawberries on the coffee table and sits on the end of the sofa, swinging her legs over my lap.
Fuck yeah. Time for dessert. And I couldn’t care less about bloody strawberries.
“You should massage my feet. I’ve been slaving away all day, cooking for you.” April reaches for a strawberry, and runs it seductively over her lips before baring her teeth and taking a bite.
I look down at her tanned feet, her dainty little toenails painted black. A silver anklet clings to her delicate ankle. Sexiest feet I’ve ever seen. Not that I generally look at girls’ feet. It’s usually higher up their body I’m focused on.
“How can I say no?” I say. Taking the foot closest to me, I gently rub the pads of her soft feet, increasing the pressure as I get into a rhythm. She makes a low moaning sound as she melts back into the cushion behind her. “You can’t do that, April.”
“Do what?” she asks, blinking those long lashes.
“Make those noises. If you keep making them I’ll end up bending you over this couch.”
She laughs softly, and my chest suddenly squeezes tight.
“Sorry,” she says and presses her lips together. And I’m hard. Again.
“So have you always lived alone?” I ask, changing the subject.
“No. My ex-boyfriend, Todd, lived with me for nearly three years, but I prefer it on my own now. It’s just … easier.”
What kind of a fucking name is Todd? I bet if I looked up its origin it would translate to ‘dickhead’.
“Yeah, I agree.”
Although my reasons for living alone were mainly selfish. Mainly so I could bring home whoever I wanted, whenever I wanted. Luckily, financially I could afford to live alone. I had a flatmate for a while—a girl—but not surprisingly, that arrangement didn’t end well.
“What happened with him?” I ask, not particularly want to talk about him, but I need to know more about April so I can understand her. Women can be so puzzling, and I’m no mind-reader by any stretch.
She lets out a loud sigh, and snuggles in closer. “It started out well. I was only twenty-one and for some reason I thought the sun shone out of his arse. I thought he loved me, but what he loved more was the idea of me. He was basically a lazy slob, and I ended up supporting him while he went to uni. I put a roof over his head and fed the prick.”
“How come you stayed with him for so long?”
“I dunno. I’d never really had a long-lasting relationship before. I just thought what we had was what a relationship was like. Everyone says they’re hard work. When it comes to a lot of things I’m not a quitter, so apart from that, I guess I was trying to prove to myself that I’m not like her.”
“Who?”
Her whole body tenses. “My mother,” she says flatly.
“Oh,” I mutter, not knowing whether I should delve further. It’s obviously a sensitive topic. We sit for a moment in silence, April not offering anything else, so I try and move the conversation on. “Well, I’d say it’s a good thing he’s out of your life, then.”
I can’t believe the April I know, what little I know about her, would put up with someone treating her like that. I guess that’s why she wants to take this slow. It’s starting to make sense.
A mix of emotions run through her eyes. I take her soft hand and trace my fingers over her knuckles. Her gaze shifts to my hand, and she watches each soft stroke. I hope bringing him up wasn’t the wrong thing to do. I hope she’s okay. Maybe I should have just kept my mouth shut.
“I’m gonna come out and say it, Spencer. It shouldn’t come as a surprise to you, but I like sex. A lot. Todd wasn’t into sex like me, or so I thought, until I came home from overseas a week early and caught him mid-fuck with my best friend. Turns out he was into sex, just not with me. The two closest people in my life had been diddling each other behind my back, and I had no clue.”
“Shit,” I blurt out. I try hard not to picture it, but I can conjure that shit up in a millisecond. Bet it was doggy-style. “What’d you do when you caught him?” Is he in pieces floating around Sydney Harbour?
“I kicked his arse out, and threw his shit into the street. Not that the moocher had much. It was something I should have done a long time earlier, anyway. After that I decided to go back overseas.”
“So that’s when Sophie looked after your place.”
“Yeah. Going overseas was the best thing I ever did. I really let loose, but at the same time I learnt a lot about myself. One thing I know for sure is that I won’t be put second again. I won’t let someone drag me down with them.”
I can’t believe anyone would put her second. Girls like April are rare.
Suddenly I feel uncomfortable in my own skin. I’m an arsehole. As big as they come. I’ve treated girls a distant second all my life, so many I can’t even put a number on it. Some whose name I never even bothered to catch.
“I’ll tell you a secret,” I say crooking my finger. She moves in close, the corner of her pretty mouth curling at the side.
“Fire away,” she says, her voice dripping with sexy tones.
“I like sex, too.”
“You do, huh? I don’t think that’s much of a secret, Spencer. I already gathered that.” She raises her eyebrow, and chews on her bottom lip.
“Yeah, but just to put your mind at ease, there’s only one place I’m thinking about dragging you.” Before she can ask me where I lean into her, claiming her mouth with mine. I kiss her softly at first, but when she runs her hands up my chest over my nipples and into my hair, I nearly lose it. I probe my tongue desperately into her mouth, the vibrations from the groan in the back of her throat taunting me to go further.
She kisses me back like she wants me to be her next meal. And believe me, I’m happy to be. I let April take over, her mouth sweeter than any other I’ve tasted, a heady combination of red wine, chocolate, strawberries, and sweetest of all … her.
Gliding my hand under her dress, up the inside of her leg, my fingers graze her lace panties. She lets out a shuddery breath as I swirl my fingers over the smooth skin of her inner thigh. I just want in. I want so bad to feel her heat, to make her scream. I’ll do it. Over and over.
She groans, and I’m pretty sure, I’ve just set a new world record for the speed it took my blood to rush to my dick.
“Before you start dragging me around, I’ve got a better idea,” she says, putting her hand over mine, but sliding it down towards her knee.
Hold up. She’s putting on the brakes?
“I beg to differ. My idea’s pretty fuckin’ good. Trust me. You’ll enjoy it.”
“Come on, let’s go to my room. Time for some fun. Might not be what you’re expecting, but then again, I’m sure you can guess I’m full of surprises.”
CHAPTER FOUR
* SPENCER *
April gets up off the lounge and takes my hand, pulling me towards her bedroom. I adjust my boxers along the way. She says the word “fun”, and my dick is convinced it’s time for action.
April turns on the light, but dims it down.
“Lay back on the bed,” she says, standing with her hands on her hips. I slip off my shoes and practically jump on it and lie back. I shut my eyes for a moment and contemplate what’s ahead of me. A blow job. I knew it. Halle-fucking-lujah.
“Okay. So here’s what’s gonna happen,” she says, bossy as ever. I lazily open my eyes, and prepare to hear April’s grand plan.
“Your clothes stay on.” She takes her bottom lip between her teeth.
“Wait a sec … what?” Clothes stay on? How is she gonna do it with my fucking pants on?
“You heard me. The only fucking you’re going to be doing is with your eyes.”
I’m so confused. What?
“Don’t look at me like you’re a two-year-old and I’ve just taken a lollipop off you.”
Was I pouting?
“What am I going to be eye-fucking then?” I huff in frustration.
She presses her lips together, and then pulls the hem of her dress up and over her head. She throws the dress to the floor, and moves closer to the bed.
My eyes zero in on the white lace and I wish then, to whatever god is listening, to give me X-ray vision. I wanna see it all. I need to.
“Let’s try this for a start,” she says, flashing me a devilish grin. “Fuck away.”
I can’t believe I’m doing this, but more to the point, I can’t believe she’s making me. It’s funny as hell. But my dick disagrees. He thinks it’s just mean.
I resign myself to it, and attempt to commit to memory every inch of her toned body, her flat stomach, and an inny belly button that dreams are made of. At least, my dreams will be now.
“You know you need to be on the other end of the camera, girl.” She is serious Victoria’s Secret material. “Am I allowed to touch?”
She shakes her head, and stalks like a tigress on her hands and knees on the bed beside me. She casually lays down on her side, propping her head up with one elbow, running her fingertips on her other hand softly over her hip. The curve of a small intricate tattoo peeps at the edge of her panties, just inside her hipbone. And just like the free on her wrist, there’s another tease of fine cursive writing, just beneath the cup of her bra on her left side: no fear. These tattoos hint at her story. Maybe the one in her panties will unveil the secrets of the universe. If not, I’d bet it all that it’ll be one step closer to heaven. If they let guys like me in.
I move onto my side to face her but playing the game, I don’t touch. It won’t be long anyway; she’ll want it bad. I don’t know how she’s not all over me. I’ve never felt so much sexual energy with someone, and in this tiny room, it’s starting to make me light-headed. I might just faint like a girl.
I outstretch my hand, and run my finger along her jaw. When I reach her chin, I take it gently between my thumb and index finger. “I promise you, I’ll make you feel good. Just let me.”
“You can kiss me on the mouth. It’s the only part of me you’re allowed to touch.”
Then I’m gonna kiss her like a starved man. Well, really, I am. I haven’t gone this long without action in forever. I couldn’t bring myself to sleep with anyone else when I only had her in my head. When I set my sights on someone, no one else will do.
I press my hungry lips to hers and take my time, playfully nipping at her bottom lip, but I can’t hold back for long. I’m greedy. I want more. When I dip my tongue into her hot mouth, she whimpers before gliding her strong tongue against mine. I close my eyes, savouring every stroke, every flick. Who knew just kissing someone could be so fucking hot?
April relaxes and sinks back into the bed, but I can’t take my lips off her. If it’s the only part of her sweet body I can touch, I’m not giving it up. She takes my head in her hands and kisses my cheek, then pulls me close so her lips brush my earlobe. It sends a weird chill right through to my bones.
“Tell me what you want to do to me, Spencer,” she whispers. “What would you do with those hands of yours?”
Well, hello! April wants me to talk dirty.
“Fuck,” I breathe. I lean onto my side, and run my fingers along her jaw and down to her collarbone.
She grabs my hand and moves it away. “You have to tell me … I’ll do it for you.”
“Damn, April.”
“Go with it, Spencer. Fight for the chance to have me.”
She moves her fingers lightly over her collarbone, and teases at her bra strap.
“Tell me what to do,” she says, her tongue running over her bottom lip.
“I’d take that bra off, so I can finally get my hands on your gorgeous tits.”
“Did I forget to say I’m not taking my bra and panties off?”
“Ah, yes you failed to mention that,” I say sarcastically, closing my eyes in an attempt to calm my thumping heart. “That I would have remembered. Why won’t you let me take ‘em off?”
“Patience, pretty boy. Patience.” She runs her hands over her bra. I can almost make out her pebbled nipples through the lace as she pushes her tits into her hands, arching her back on the bed. “Would you be gentle or rough?”
I open my mouth to speak, but I can’t put together a single word. I know I wouldn’t be thinking about it so damn much, because I’d fucking be doing it.
“Hurry up and tell me, Spencer. I need you to tell me,” she begs.
“Rough,” I choke out. “I’d squeeze those tits and then tease those nipples until they’re hard, and you’re begging for my mouth on them.”
“Ooh, I like the sound of that.” She squeezes her tits together and groans, and then tweaks her nipples between her thumbs and forefingers so they stand out even more beneath the fabric.
“How’s it feel?” I ask, getting more comfortable with the whole dirty-talking. Not that I’ve had problems before; this is just … different. I’m not in charge.
“Mmm. I like it rough … it’s got me wet.”
Gulp, fucking gulp. Wet. My new favourite word in the English language. Well, I guess it’s always been a favourite. My head and my dick might just explode simultaneously. I lean in and suck o
n her soft bottom lip before teasing her mouth with my tongue.
“What next?” she says against my lips.
I clear my throat. “I’d trace my hands down the smooth skin of your stomach, and run my fingers over the lace … to start.”
Her hands move slowly over her dark golden skin down to her panties. She subtly lifts her hips and rests one hand on her side, slipping the other hand between her legs.
“I’d touch you soft at first, letting the lace rub you … just enough to get you hot and swollen,” I say before she gets the chance to prompt me.
“Like this?” she questions, stroking up and down her panties with her long fingers, her typical short nails painted black. What a picture. As if I’ll forget it.
“Yeah, just like that, but I’d spread those amazing legs wider so I can really feel your heat.”
She looks up at me through sleepy eyes, and I kiss her softly. When she exhales deeply through her nose, I know I have to look at what she’s doing, because she’s getting all worked up. From her own hand. Am I dreaming? Or am I stuck halfway between heaven and hell?
“Should I keep going?” she breathes.
“That depends. Are you ready to feel it inside yet?”
She nods. Her lips parts with a moan and I dive in, flicking my tongue against hers. Her whole body squirms back into the bed.
“Spencer …” she says, her hushed tone desperate.
“I’d move my hand back over your flat stomach, and then tease my fingers under the lace until I get to where I really wanna be.”
“Where?”
“Your sweet spot, baby.” And I wanna be there, wanna touch it, work it. So, so bad.
She moves her hand down further, and her body jerks as she obviously makes contact.
“Would you do it fast … slow …?” she asks, her breath shaky.
“Slow little circles, until you’re squirming …”
“You mean like this?” she whispers, arching her back. I watch her fingers move beneath the lace. Christ.
I wanna touch her like I need my next breath, but I have to let her do this. Maybe then I’ll get the green light.
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