Secret Confessions: Sydney Housewives - Extended Edition

by Various Various

  The self-contempt and fear in his eyes stilled her heart. She ached for him. For him and the torture he was putting himself through.

  “I’m sorry,” he said.

  She brushed her thumb over his bottom lip, shaking her head. “You are an idiot, Daniel Hiddleston, if you don’t know beyond doubt that everything you are is everything I want. It’s been that way from the second I saw you, and it will be that way until the day I die.”

  Mud stared at her, a motionless statue.

  She let her smile stretch wider as she traced his bottom lip once again with her thumb. “And you know why I know this?”

  He shook his head. It was the only movement he made.

  “Because every time I look at you, I see everything you are; the macho prick you fear is inside you, the passionate lover who isn’t sated until I’ve come over and over again, the funny boy who makes me laugh, the possessive caveman who makes me so horny, and…”

  Mud drew a sharp breath on her pause. “And?” he repeated on a husky whisper.

  She slowly rose to her feet, allowing her naked body to brush against his as she stood. “And the man I trust with not just my pleasure, but my heart.”

  He gazed down into her face. His nostrils flared. His jaw bunched.

  “I love you, Daniel,” she said, trailing her fingers down his chest. “Because of everything you are.”

  His belly hitched under her fingertips. A heartbeat later he cupped her face in his strong hands and crushed her lips with his.

  He swiped his tongue into her mouth, a hungry mating gesture that sent liquid heat straight to the centre of her existence. She moaned, sliding her palms up his chest and into his hair. The damp strands slipped between her fingers, an erotic caress that only heightened the potency of his kiss. He feasted on her lips, as if ravenous. Jorja understood. She craved him on a level beyond comprehension. Pressing her body to his, she ground the curve of her sex against his rigid cock, frustrated by the denim of his jeans separating his flesh from hers.

  With a growl, he dragged his hands down over her breasts, squeezing each one with kneading fingers, pinching her nipples with gentle force, before reaching his fly and yanking it open. All without breaking their kiss.

  His cock sprang free, a thick steel pole that nudged her belly.

  Instantly, a wave of raw need rolled through Jorja, fed by Mud’s undeniable desire. She raked her nails down his back, around his hips, capturing the engorged member with her right hand as she shoved his jeans over his hips.

  And still his tongue, his teeth, made love to her mouth.

  Still he worshipped her with a kiss so fierce in its intensity she feared she would die from pleasure.

  Wrapping her fingers tighter around his cock, she traced her thumb over the tip of its bulbous head, her pulse quickening at the bead of moisture anointing it.

  “Jorja…” Mud groaned against her lips, kneading her backside with one hand as the other cupped her breast. “I want—”

  “Fuck me, Mud,” she pleaded, pumping his cock with a slow up and down stroke. “I want you inside me so much.”

  Another growl rumbled deep in his chest and, before she realised what he was doing, he circled her tiny waist with long, calloused fingers, hauled her feet from the floor and deposited her butt onto the massage table.

  He shoved her legs apart with his hands, filling the wide V at the junction of her thighs with his hips. His cock ground into her sodden folds, rubbed at the sensitive button of her clit. She whimpered, rolling her head as he scored a path of hot kisses and sucking bites up to her ear.

  “I want to make you come first,” he whispered, his breath warm on the side of her neck. He pushed his hips forward, his cock parting her labia with a slow, upward thrust until it rubbed against her clit again.

  Jorja moaned, closing her eyes as a wave of pleasure radiated through her lower body. “Oh Mud…”

  He nipped at her jaw, her chin, and then moved his mouth lower, massaging her breast with his hand until he closed his lips around her nipple and drew on it with fierce need.

  She arched into his suction, tangling her fingers in his hair as she ground her spread sex against his rigid length. “Yes… oh yes…that’s…”

  He changed to her other breast, rolling the pebbled tip of her nipple between his teeth. Exquisite pain and pleasure shot through her and she bucked again, scraping at his scalp with her nails.

  His hands roamed her body, squeezing her arse, her breasts, cupping her jaw, circling her throat. And all the while he feasted on her nipples, sucking, biting, playing with his tongue.

  Over and over until a delicious heat began to pool in Jorja’s core.

  Until the soles of her feet and the base of her spine began to tingle.

  “Oh God, Mud…” she panted, writhing on the massage table, her clit a swollen nub of aching want, her body on fire. “Oh God, I think I’m…I think I’m going to…I’m going to…”

  Her orgasm slammed into her before she could finish uttering the unbelievable, a detonation of liquid heat and concentrated pleasure. She threw back her head, her hips bucking, her cries high on the air.

  And still Mud didn’t cease his worship of her breasts. He continued to suckle on each one, lavishing them with thorough devotion. She moaned and begged him to stop, pleaded with him for more. Sex with Mud was always a glorious conflict of sensations and emotions. He made her ache in ways her body and soul craved, even as he propelled her from intense lust to bone-melting desire and pleasure.

  Clawing at his shoulders, she wrapped her thighs around his hips in an effort to rub her swollen clit against his cock. “Oh God, Mud…” she whimpered. “I can’t…too good… too…”

  He pulled away from her breast, releasing her nipple from his mouth with a pop, before charting a path with his lips down to her belly button.

  And lower.

  His tongue swiped over her tender folds, moist from her orgasm and plump with fresh arousal. She hissed, driving her heels to the muscled strength of his shoulders, fisting her hands in his hair. “Fuck. Fuck, yes.”

  He explored her sex with his tongue, lapping at her clit, delving into the wet heat of her seam. With every thrust and flick the exquisite tension in the pit of her belly grew tighter. She arched on the edge of the table, her breath falling from her in hot gasps. “I’m going to…” She drove her heels harder to the broad expanse of his shoulders, a wicked blossom of pleasure unfurling in her core. “Oh fuck, Mud, I’m going to come again. I’m going to come—”

  Sucking on her clit, he thrust two fingers past her folds and stroked the sweetest spot of her inner walls.

  She came, an explosion of white pleasure and searing rapture. Her pussy contracted, gripping at Mud’s wriggling fingers, a throbbing pulse that shook her to the very core.

  She clawed at his arms, rode his fingers, whimpered his name until her throat was hoarse, and then begged him for more again. “In…inside me, Daniel,” she rasped, the waves of her orgasm consuming her even as they fed her insatiable need for him. “I want you inside me.”

  He straightened between her thighs, staring down at her, his eyes ablaze with savage urgency. His nostrils flared. “I’m not going to be gentle, JJ. I can’t. I’m too…I want you too fucking much to be—”

  She silenced him with a brutal kiss that told him just what she thought about gentle.

  He growled into her mouth, tore his lips from hers, grabbed her hips with fingers used to mashing heads into the ground, and buried himself to the balls in her sex with one powerful thrust.

  “Yes!” Jorja cried out, pulling herself into his penetration.

  They moved together, Mud’s strokes growing faster, his stare holding hers, his hands squeezing her backside, her breasts.

  She rode his rocking penetrations, his cock driving deeper into her pussy, stretching her, propelling her to the precipice once again. Nothing mattered except their two bodies moving together, existing together. Every nerve ending in her body thr
ummed, an elemental energy of concentrated pleasure and honest need. Of raw want and pure desire.

  He held her hips, gazed into her eyes and took complete possession of her body and soul. And when she didn’t think she could take any more, when she feared she was going to erupt in a maelstrom of lust and passion and carnal rapture, he shattered her fraying sanity by cupping the side of her face in a gentle caress and brushing his thumb over her bottom lip, even as he pumped deeper and faster and harder into her.

  “I love you, Jorja,” he rasped, punctuating each word with a powerful thrust, his stare never leaving her face. “I love you, I love you, I love—”

  Her orgasm—the most intense of them all—erupted in her soul. A paroxysm of pleasure that sheared through her, crashed through her, tore her apart and made her again.

  She clung to him, her pussy a throbbing pulse around his rapid thrusts, her cries wordless sounds of surrender to the absolute pleasure he gave her.

  “I fucking love you, Jorja,” he growled, eyes ablaze with the very emotion as he buried his hand in the hair at her nape. “For fucking ever.”

  And then, nostrils flaring, jaw bunched, a strangled groan tore from him and he slammed into her, his rhythm wild, erratic, his eyes squeezing shut as he came.

  His orgasm claimed his whole body, great shudders vibrating through his muscles. Jorja felt it radiate into hers, a sublime force of pleasure she never wanted to be without. Their pleasure.

  She held him as he spilled his seed inside her. Rode the waves of her own orgasm as he buried his face into the side of her neck, his lips hot as he told her over and over again he loved her, he loved her.

  She surrendered to him, even as he surrendered to her.

  A lifetime later—or maybe only a few moments, Jorja didn’t know or care—his savage thrusts grew still. Another lifetime after that, he raised his head from the side of her neck and feathered his thumb over her bottom lip.

  “I love you, Jorja Jones,” he murmured with a boyish grin that almost fell on the side of sheepish, his spent cock still deep within her heat. “Just in case you weren’t sure.”

  She laughed, a wave of joy and delight washing over her. “Is that what you were trying to tell me just now?”

  He chuckled, smoothing his powerful arms around her waist and drawing their bodies closer together. “It was. That and the fact I have a cure for your stiff neck.”

  Jorja cocked an eyebrow, the knotted tension in her neck long forgotten. “Good sex and multiple orgasms?”

  He shook his head. “Fucking incredible sex and multiple orgasms. With me. Only with me.”

  And as if to prove his point, he went and gave her multiple orgasms all over again. Via the most incredible fucking sex Jorja had ever had. Wild, sweaty, untamed sex.

  Just the way she liked it.

  The distinctive sounds of a dinner party filled her living room, the chink of crystal glasses coming together as intimate toasts and secretive pacts were made, the tinkle of laughter and snickers of gossipy giggles.

  Jorja stood on the balcony of her home, elbows resting on the railing, Sydney Harbour to her back, and watched the women of her social circle as they interacted with each other in their own particular form of power-playing. It was a dance, as such; one she both cherished and found humorous.

  One she was glad to be part of, even as she questioned her right to be there. She was, after all, just a WAG, even if her body was currently wrapped in an exquisite Alexander McQueen LBD, and Tiffany diamonds graced her earlobes, neck and wrists.

  Still, this was her dinner party, the first Double D dinner of the year, and she couldn’t be happier with the way it was going.

  “You look like the cat that swallowed the canary,” Meagan said beside her, a note of relaxed humour in her voice.

  Jorja shot her friend a quick look. “Do I?”

  Meagan grinned. “You do.”

  Jorja turned back to the view of the women in her living room. Two weeks had passed since Mud invited Brett Bartowski into their home. Two weeks since he’d damn near thrown him out again.

  In those two weeks, he’d spent almost every waking minute making sure she was a puddle of sated rapture. It was as if he couldn’t exist without being inside her body, or hearing her moaning pleas of pleasure.

  She wasn’t going to argue.

  And yet that afternoon fourteen days ago still haunted her. Not because for one brief moment Brett’s thumbs had brushed her pussy, but because of the enigmatic emotion she’d seen in Mud’s eyes at the start of it all.

  An emotion she didn’t think she’d see again.

  But she had. Every day since.

  What did it mean?

  Scanning her guests, she wondered what they’d make of her conflicted thoughts. Nella was always so poised and refined. Would it shock her to know what Mud had done? Most likely. She was the veteran of the group, almost its founding member. Would she be mortified that Jorja had allowed it to happen? Would she continue to interact with Jorja in a social environment?

  “JJ?”

  Meagan’s soft whisper tickled her ear. She hmmm’d, her thoughts playing over the reaction of her guests at the state of her relationship. Would Virginia be disparaging, given she was firmly entrenched in a loving relationship that clearly had no room for outsider-stimulation? Would Christa, no doubt regaling Virginia with bliss-filled accounts of her bliss-filled marriage?

  Jorja studied the immaculately dressed women, both different and yet similar. Both affluent and yet at the same time grounded. Would they look at her with distaste if they knew she’d let another man touch her, just because Mud invited him to?

  Did she care?

  “JJ?” Meagan nudged her shoulder. “You’ve got that look on your face again. The one that makes people nervous.”

  Jorja frowned, even as she caught sight of Willow, Darla and Lana glancing her way. She’d been distant tonight with all of them. Less…talkative. That simple fact probably made most there breathe a sigh of relief. She wasn’t known for her subtlety when it came to speaking her mind, after all. And with the way Lana was going on and on about her latest toy boy, everyone there was probably waiting for Jorja to say something cutting.

  She hadn’t.

  In fact, she’d pretty much stood out here on the balcony, the balmy summer evening breeze playing with her bare arms and legs, and pondered the ambiguous expression on Mud’s face as the catering staff waited on her guests. An expression she couldn’t decipher no matter how many times she saw it swimming in his eyes. An expression that scared her as much as it excited her.

  No wonder the curious glances from the other women.

  Hell, even Camilla was casting puzzled looks in her direction, cowering by Sienna’s side as if scared Jorja was going to cut her to shreds with her words, something she did often. It wasn’t that Jorja didn’t like the newest member of the group, it was just that she reminded Jorja too much of the vacuous infant with double Ds her father had abandoned his family for a lifetime a—

  “JJ,” Meagan muttered, jerking her back from the bleak thought, “you really need to tell me what’s going on. Or at least turn around and look at the harbour for a moment. You’ve gone from canary-devouring smug to stiff ice queen in a nanosecond. To be honest, it’s kinda scary. You look like you need a massage or something.”

  At Meagan’s declaration, a prickling rush of heat flooded Jorja’s cheeks.

  “Are you blushing?” her friend gasped at her side. “Oh my God, JJ, are you actually blushing?”

  Spinning on her heel, Jorja turned her back on her guest, fixing her stare on the dark waters of Sydney Harbour beyond the railing. She gripped the stem of her wine glass, her belly knotting.

  “Okay, woman.” Meagan bumped her shoulder again, stunned laughter in her voice. “You’re keeping secrets from me. What are they? Spill. Before I turn around and invite Camilla over here to join—”

  “JJ?”

  At the deep male voice, uttered loud enough it
carried all the way to where Jorja was staring hard at the harbour, the room behind her fell silent.

  At her side, Meagan let out a soft, “Oh, wow…”

  “Turn around and look at me, JJ,” the new arrival commanded.

  Jorja’s heart thumped into her throat. Her belly clenched. Her pussy contracted.

  Why was he here? He was meant to be on a pre-season training session up the coast. The whole team was, managers, coaches, medical crew, the lot. So why was he—

  “Now,” Mud ordered, the dominating arrogance of the word belied by a nervous apprehension Jorja knew only she would detect. After all, who would ever expect Daniel Hiddleston to be apprehensive? Who would believe the man more feared on the rugby field than any other could ever be nervous about anything? Let alone asking his girlfriend to do something as simple as face him?

  Pulling a slow breath, Jorja raised her chin and pivoted on the heel of her Jimmy Choos.

  And then swallowed a silent gasp.

  He stood in the middle of their living room, dressed in training shorts, a torn Australian Kangaroos tank and footy boots, smeared in mud and grass stains. His hair was in disarray, blades of grass matted in its dirty-blond strands. Dry blood crusted a nasty scrape on his right cheek.

  “Mud?” She frowned, trying to process the sight of him. The animalistic, manly sight of him. “What are you…why aren’t you…”

  Her friends stared at him. No one said a word.

  Taking a step toward her, Mud clenched his jaw. “There’s something I have to…I have to tell you, JJ. It can’t wait.”

  She raised her eyebrows, even as her tummy churned. “I think it can, Daniel. You’re interrupting my—”

  Her rebuff died on her lips as he lowered himself down onto one knee, his stare fixed on her face. “No, Jorja,” he declared. “It can’t.”

  Her breath caught in her throat. Her heart slammed harder in her chest.

  Holding her gaze with his, he extended his hands toward her, holding out something small and black and box-like.

  “I’ve been carrying this around for months now, JJ,” he said, that same nervous apprehension in his voice. “Waiting for the perfect time to ask the question. Petrified you’d say no. Tonight, during training drills, as I was getting my head rammed into the ground by the halfback from hell, I realised the perfect time was every second of every day and so I ran off the field and came straight here.”