“I just want you to admit what you feel. You obviously want him, or you wouldn’t be diving headlong into a boozy haze.”
“I want something in my fist.”
“To compensate for the lack of a cock?”
Shock. Astonishment closed his face to her. Elliot backed away. She didn’t know why she was dragging this out so much, making such a big deal out of something they could have laughed off. After the bubbly for the toasts and the plethora of wines at dinner, the sherry on the way in and a few G and T’s apiece, neither of them was entirely sober. A kiss could be forgiven, couldn’t it? She’d probably kissed one or two guys a fraction too enthusiastically tonight. It had meant nothing—but this did.
She loved Elliot and contrition filled his expression. She wasn’t even angry with him, not deep down. She was only cross with herself for wanting something that could have such a huge impact on their relationship, and for not being brave enough to properly ask for it.
“Look, I told you, I’m sorry,” Elliot apologised yet again. “It was a slip. Adam caught me by surprise. It definitely wouldn’t have gone any further.”
“Shame,” she murmured. Thank God, he hadn’t heard her. They needed to leave this room and shove his indiscretion into a deep, dark box. “We should rejoin the party.”
He nodded. “Okay, if that’s what you want.”
It both was and wasn’t. They left the room far more divided than when they’d arrived. Elliot clearly wanted Adam, but desired forgiveness and stability in their marriage too much to give in to it, and she wanted him to admit to his attraction and watch his liberation. As for what Adam wanted, there was no real way of knowing that.
Chapter Two
Becca woke in the early hours, with cramp in her foot and a cold space beside her in the bed. She groped for her mobile phone, bleary eyed, in order to check the time. Elliot was sleeping squashed upon the banquette, with his toes overhanging the end despite his foetal position.
‘Never go to bed angry and never wake up still holding a grudge’, her grandmother had once told her. Sound advice from a woman who had spent fifty-two years with the same man. They ought to have sorted things out properly before going back downstairs to re-join the celebration. Leaving things had allowed them to fester. Elliot had spent the whole night avoiding Adam, making a hasty retreat every time the broodingly handsome guy had come within a table’s length of them. She’d kept hoping that Adam would somehow sneak up on Elliot and crush him in another embrace, which had meant she had been staring at Adam every time he’d come close—a fact Elliot had noticed and clearly interpreted as a sign of her prolonged anger.
Becca cast back the duvet and padded across to where Elliot lay huddled beneath the tartan throw. He opened his eyes the moment she knelt beside him. “I’m sorry,” he murmured.
“Shh!” She pressed a finger to his parted lips. “Want to make it up to me?”
His simple nod told her how much he wanted that far more succinctly than words. He raised his head off the pillow of clothes he’d made and reached an arm towards her. “I love you,” he whispered, just before their lips met. The rush of heat and emotion that flooded her chest was vastly out of proportion to her normal reaction. It was as if they’d rolled back time to the heady days of their courtship, when everything had been new and exciting.
Elliot shoved aside the throw.
Arousal bloomed between Becca’s thighs, so that when Elliot coaxed her onto the banquette, she covered him, straddling his waist. The gentle exploratory way in which he touched her couldn’t satisfy her rabid desire. Becca broke the kiss and sat upright. She tore her nightshirt off over her head, so that they were both bare above the waist. Elliot immediately sought her breasts. He cupped them, then, rising into a sitting position too, buried his face between their plump swell. His mouth closed over one nipple. He sucked, teasing the whole of her areola into an engorged point. Her breasts were always sensitive, but now they seemed doubly so. If only he could encompass both nipples at once, then heaven would surely be hers.
Becca’s hips began to roll of their own accord, seeking out friction for her needy clit. Elliot still had his shorts on, the cotton of which was now pulled tight over the length of his erection. Something about seeing him restricted like that chafed her senses. She shuffled backwards until she rode his trapped length.
“Damn, Becca…” He pulled aside the damp scrap of her knickers and thrust his fingers into the melt between her legs. “Let me.”
His touch seemed to draw heat into her clit, so that it bloomed with sensitivity. Her skin prickled as blood rushed to the area to satisfy her need.
“Lord, you’re so wet. You need this, don’t you? I’m so sorry I made you mad.”
“Don’t,” she chastised. She didn’t want to talk about it, didn’t want to pollute this moment with her perverse desire to see him straining beneath Adam’s strong hold. Except, it was already too late for that—the image immediately took root. Sharp and delicious, it filled her imagination. Two strong male bodies writhing together, set against the grainy background of an off-air TV set.
“What is it?” He seemed to sense her change of mood.
“Is he your type?”
“Shit, Bec! You’re still pissed at me.”
At least his fingers kept working so that she didn’t genuinely get peeved.
“I’m not mad. I’m not. I just can’t get the image of the two of you out of my head. I need to… What’s it like? How does it feel kissing him?” She imagined the rough scrap of stubble.
Elliot shook his head. “You don’t want to hear this.”
She did. She very much did. The desire for that knowledge was the primary motivator for the continued glide of her pussy over his still-confined cock. Very soon, she’d need to free him. She’d slide over him, using all the liquid heat pouring from her to welcome him deep into her sheath.
“I want to watch you.”
“You do not.”
She thought he was going to make a genuine issue of the point, until she looked into his face and recognised the germ of excitement there. He was considering it. Whether he truly believed her or not, at this moment he recognised the benefit of exploring the concept. For some crazy, unfathomable reason, the notion of seeing Elliot entwined—actually, scratch that, held down and fucked—did more for her libido than a thousand pleas for forgiveness and declarations of undying love.
“I want to see him sucking you.” The very concept made noodles of her insides. She shimmied back immediately to perform that very act herself.
The outside of Elliot’s shorts were damp with her arousal. She peeled them down over his hips, revealing the sharpness of the bones beneath. Elliot’s erection clung to the lean ridges of muscle that defined his abs. He was every bit as aroused as her, waiting, barely containing his excitement as she lowered her head. The scent of him, salty and musky, filled her nostrils. Becca made an O around the cherry-hued tip of his cock and took him into her mouth. The primal nature of this act and the level of trust involved always enthralled her. This time was no exception.
“Has he gone down on you before?” she whispered, before taking him again.
A ripple, she wasn’t sure if it was arousal or fear, rolled through Elliot’s slightly tensed limbs. “It was a long time ago.”
As if he’d thrown dynamite onto a fire, the mumbled confession set everything alight. In her imagination, it was Adam going down on Elliot, not her. His black hair fanned out over the top of Elliot’s thighs, his throat relaxed in order to take more of Elliot’s cock. Then, when Elliot started to kick and buck, and she had to hold on to him to keep him from pushing too deep, it was Adam she envisaged using his tongue against the sensitive slit to drive Elliot into a state of utter frenzy.
Becca had no idea if men performed fellatio in the same way that women did. She had only her instincts to guide her and they said ‘yes’. Although, perhaps they did it with more gusto than the typical girl. Maybe that’s because they
’d know first-hand how good it felt, or maybe it was because they’d understand the correct rhythm and pace to set. The details didn’t really matter at this point, because, if she didn’t pull back, the whole fantasy would be over all too soon.
Elliot’s cries morphed into broken whispers, then a wail when she withdrew. She didn’t ask whether Elliot had returned the favour and gone down on Adam. She’d already guessed the answer. “Mouths only, or did you fuck?”
Elliot pushed up on to his elbows. “How much do you want to know?”
“Everything. All of it.”
“No, that’s not what I meant.” A silky grin spread across his lips. “I mean, what’s it worth? Because it’s private, and not really relevant to us.”
“It seems pretty relevant to me. You were snogging him earlier.”
“Does that demand the dredging up of all the sordid details of my past?”
The word sordid acted on her like a jug full of aphrodisiac. “Which way round did you do it?” she asked. Because, yes, they absolutely did need to retread upon the events of his past. She needed to know exactly how involved with Adam he’d been. She had to hear it in order to make the fantastical images in her head that bit crisper. Though what she really wanted was for him to stand up and say, ‘Hang on, I’ll just go get Adam and we can demonstrate’.
Only Elliot didn’t say that. He didn’t say anything for several seconds, until her brow rumpled. “You didn’t answer,” he explained. “I meant it as a genuine question.”
Becca silently unravelled the conversation of the last few minutes until she happened upon his ask.
“What are you going to give me in return?” Elliot clarified. He had the sort of smirk on his face that made her pulse race. It hinted at raunchy animal sex. The sort of down and dirty stuff they didn’t do nearly enough of these days. “Come on, Becca, work with me a little here. You know I don’t like discussing my past relationships, and I’ve never beaten a drum over you sharing yours.”
“I know, but this is different, right? It’s not really past like Wendy, the girl you mooned over in high school, past. This is past that just collided with the present.” Becca shuffled up closer to him, so that her breasts tickled his chest hair and his cock nestled perfectly between the split of her pussy. “Plus, it’s not as if I’m going to blab to the world. This is just me and you sharing a little intimacy.” She rocked her hips in encouragement, which made him groan. “And, of course, if you tell me nicely, I might have a very special reward for you.”
Elliot cocked his head to one side making pretence of doubt. “How special?”
Lord God, the man had to know, didn’t he? Wasn’t it blatantly obvious from how close they were pressed? It’d take nothing more than a minor wiggle for him to slide in and fill her right up. Becca nibbled his earlobe, then whispered, “Tell me, Elliot, or else I’m going to get off your lap and walk down the corridor, find him, and ask him just how far it went.”
“You won’t do that.” His hands circled her waist. The tightness of his grip betrayed the doubt in his assertion.
“Yes, I will. I’m sure I can prise his number from the desk clerk. And hey, what’s Adam to lose by telling me? It’s not as if you’re still an item.”
“We were never an item.”
“Bingo! Now we’re getting somewhere.” She slid back and forth along his prick, an act that caused his eyes to glaze over and that she had to fight not to overdo. Fact was, it felt bloody good, and he was so, so close, it would take hardly any sort of movement at all to join them in perfect harmony. But she was going to hold out and perfect this interrogation technique. “Shall we start with a straightforward question or two? Is he gay?”
“He’s a flirt.”
No big surprises there. “Now that wasn’t really an answer, was it?”
“Ask him yourself. We haven’t been in touch recently.”
Becca let that particular point ride. She wasn’t even sure why it was important. What was more relevant was that Adam had at some point been intimate with her husband. Even more intimate than the act she’d witnessed.
“Okay. One-night stand, or multiple-occasion thing?”
Elliot buried his face in her shoulder, but she distinctly heard him say, “Multiple.” Judging by how hot his cheek was where it pressed against her skin, he was burning with embarrassment. She gave him an encouraging pat on the shoulder, not wanting the information to dry up. Hell, she wanted to know dates and places, positions, chat-up lines, foreplay and ratings out of five for each and every act. That said, it might be best if they didn’t get into exact figures yet, and just stuck to the juicy excerpts. “How did it happen? Did you pick one another up in a club or something?”
“He invited me over to play chess.”
“Huh!” That jerked her out of the scenario she was generating in her head, where they were dancing up against one another in some nightclub, and had realised they needed to engage in a rather more vigorous form of bump and grind. “You don’t even play chess.”
“Nor does he.”
Smart Alec.
“He didn’t even own a set.”
“Is that why he offered to suck your cock, to apologise for being such a humongous goof?”
“Do you think he looks like a goof?”
Actually, as a matter of fact she thought he looked altogether too delicious, in a rough, somewhat sharp sort of way. It wouldn’t have surprised her to learn that Adam liked whips and chains and flogging tied-up folks across the arse, which as an idea made her altogether uncomfortable, nervous and intoxicated. He probably had a pierced nipple or a vast dragon tattooed across his back.
“So, he sucked your cock as an apology for failing to have the game you came over to play?”
“He sucked me so that I was relaxed enough so that he could fuck me,” Elliot confessed. Becca made a point of seeking his gaze after that admission, and, God, if Elliot wasn’t squirming. He wouldn’t look at her for more than a millisecond.
“He fucked you,” she stated, and watched in delight as further colour licked across his cheekbones and up into his temples.
“Yes.” He pouted. “Are you happy now that you know he’s been in my arse?”
She almost sniggered as Elliot’s face scrunched up into a defensive mask. Except, judging by the way he was still jerking his hips, his embarrassment was more of a turn-on than a turn-off.
“Go on,” Becca prompted. “It’s not enough to just tell me it happened. You have to tell me how it was done. What it felt like.”
“Don’t make me, Becca.”
Don’t make him. If she didn’t make him he’d probably burst or have a stroke. Besides, she needed to know. All his wriggling and sliding up against her entrance but not quite making it inside, then spearing upwards instead to drub upon her clit, was bringing her ever closer to simply grabbing him and going at it like it was the all-time best ride of her life. “Tell me.”
Maybe the demand came out more forcefully than she’d intended—nevertheless, it had the desired effect.
“He sat us together, kind of like this,” Elliot confessed, his words coming out slightly thick. “Facing each other—not from behind like everyone imagines gay sex is. Then he had me lower myself. It was supposed to be slow, but—” He scooped her up; lifted her so that this time, when she fell, his cock sank into her, joining them in one neat stroke.
Relief! Blessed, blessed, relief. She needed this so badly. His lips brushed her neck. He was still speaking, staying with the tale.
“—I couldn’t hold the pace. Not that slow. Anticipation got the better of me. I sank down at the same time that he bucked up. One glorious thrust and he was in me to the hilt. I swear, Becca; I’ve never known so much agony, so much pleasure mixed into one. I felt so damn full. It was like I was going to burst. And my heart was going so fast I thought that was going to burst too. But it was all good. Lord, it was bloody fantastic. Adam just held me for a moment. I think he was trying to keep me still. Then I gues
s I must have relaxed a little, because he started moving. I could feel everything, every tiny shiver, every buck of his cock.”
“Yes,” she agreed, for she could feel that too. She loved being astride Elliot like this, feeling the way his muscles pulled up tight each time he thrust. Knowing that, no matter what, ultimately, control lay in her hands.
“Then we were fucking. Properly fucking and I was just riding it. It was the most perfect, shocking, amazing thing. Any minute I thought I was going to come and paint his iron-flat abs with my stuff. Then, do you know what he said?”
Becca shook her head. She too was riding that cresting wave, allowing Elliot’s words to drift past her without allowing them to sink deep enough to cause any concern or pain. The whole time he spoke she kept a frantic grip upon his back. She was probably marking him. Elliot would wake in the morning with criss-crossed scratches across his shoulder blades that made him look like the victim of a werewolf attack.
“He said, ‘Reach down between us and rub your dick’.”
“Yeah,” she breathed between smeared kisses. “Did you do it?”
“I didn’t want to, because I was already so close.” His blush reached his eyes at that confession. Becca brushed her lips against his eyelids. “But I didn’t want to upset things either, so, when he gave me the instruction again, I did it. I wrapped my palm tight around my shaft and gave myself exactly what I needed. I swear I was hanging on by a thread. The only way to stop myself coming was to pinch around the base of my cock. Even then it was touch and go. But it was fine, because Adam gave me another instruction.”
“Come,” she guessed.
“Nah,” Elliot drawled, and the intonation told her that wasn’t who Adam was. He wasn’t easy or soft. More had crossed his mind than giving Elliot a good time. His own pleasure was paramount too. Some gut-level type instinct told her Adam wouldn’t let his partner climax until he was good and ready to come too.
“He got hold of my hand and sucked my fingers into his mouth, just like this.” Elliot pushed his first two fingers into her open mouth for her to suck. “He made sure they were good and wet. Then he got me to feel my way down his back to his arse.”
Sharing Adam Page 2