Amy drew in a breath and bit on her bottom lip and I knew she was trying not to cry.
“What’s wrong?” I asked, cupping her face with both my hands. “What’s upset you?”
“Nothing,” she replied, shaking her head. “It’s just you, you’re amazing and I love you.”
I kissed her again and then slowly turned her around. “Follow the rest of the path.”
With a little giggle that went straight to my dick, Amy continued along the path, rounding the old hawthorn hedge to where the shed stood out of sight of the rest of the garden.
Amy gasped at the sight in front of her. The boys and I had cleaned it out and placed more lanterns around it. The glow of the flickering candles created silhouetted pictures of the apple trees against the wood, and somehow the decrepit old shed looked beautiful.
“Go in,” I urged.
Amy gave me a twinkling smile and moved forward, tentatively opening the door. When it was fully open, she stopped and gasped again.
“Elijah.”
She turned to look at me, her eyes wide.
“I know it’s not much, but it’s ours just for tonight.”
“It’s amazing,” Amy replied. “I love it.”
She squealed and flung herself into my arms, allowing me to let out a sigh of relief. Our hard work had been worth it and I had to admit we’d done a great job. There were more lanterns casting a glow inside, I’d put an old lace curtain of my mum’s up at the window and had brought in our old camp bed, making it up with clean sheets and my duvet, with a clean cover on it. Mum had even given me her favourite vase to put the flowers in that I’d bought – not your generic roses, oh no, I’d insisted on a hand tied bouquet of wild flowers. They’d cost me a fortune, but Amy was worth every penny.
“This is better than any hotel room,” she whispered in my ear. “I love it and I love you. Now close the door.”
Her voice was so low and sexy, my dick jumped immediately to attention and I couldn’t slide the rusty old bolt on the door quick enough.
When I turned back around, Amy was looking at me as though she was going to rock my world for the whole night. Her eyes were bright and her gorgeous tits were heaving. I walked the short distance to her and took her mouth with mine, kissing her hard, one hand threaded through her hair, the other on her perfect arse, pushing her against my erection.
Amy reached between us and rubbed her hand up and down my crotch, making my dick go up a gear of hardness. It pressed against my jeans and I was desperate to free it of the confines of the denim.
Reading my mind, Amy flipped open the button and then agonisingly slow, pulled down the zip. I felt a small amount of relief, but it wasn’t enough. I needed her hands on me. I deepened our kiss, loving the feel of Amy’s body against mine, but when her small hand wrapped around my dick, I reared back.
“We need to get naked, now,” I groaned, already whipping my jumper up over my head.
Amy giggled and pulled off her own top, and I paused from my undressing to gaze at her perfect tits covered in red lace.
“Shit,” I gasped, retaining enough semblance of mind to kick off my trainers. “You look fucking beautiful.”
With a tilt of her head, she smiled and unfastened her skin-tight jeans, before slowly shimmying them down her legs. She bent to pull them off her legs and I almost came as her tits nearly fell out of the skimpy bra she was wearing. As she straightened up, my eyes looked down at the tiny piece of red lace that were supposed to be knickers.
“Get naked Eli,” she whispered. “Please.”
Swallowing hard and keeping my eyes on hers, I finished removing the rest of my clothes until I was buck naked in front of her, my rock-hard dick bobbing against my abs.
“Get on the bed,” I told her, nodding to the camp bed behind her.
Walking backwards, Amy reached out a hand for me and took me with her. As soon as her calves hit the bed, she let go of my hand and dropped down onto it, moving up until her back hit the shed wall. I stood at end of the bed and watched as she placed her feet flat on the duvet and parted her legs. The red lace only just covering her bare pussy underneath.
I dropped onto the bed on my knees and crawled towards her until I was between her thighs and sitting back on my haunches, then ran a hand up her smooth leg. Our eyes never left each others’ as I linked my fingers with Amy’s and pulled her towards me and onto her knees. As her delicate hands clutched at my shoulders for support, my hand moved between her legs moving her thong to the side, before slipping my fingers inside her. We both moaned in unison as Amy arched her back, urging me for more. Not wanting to disappoint, I used my thumb to circle her clit, eliciting a louder groan from my beautiful girlfriend. I pumped my fingers harder and circled her nub quicker, and when her head fell back onto her shoulders, cascading ribbons of cinnamon down her back, I felt her inner muscles starting to tighten. When I pulled out, Amy’s eyes were back on mine as she whispered a ‘no’, but I didn’t care, I needed her on my dick. Putting my hand behind her thighs, I silently urged her to straddle me. Hovering above me, I swept back her hair from her face and leaned forward to kiss her, and as her lips curved against mine, I pulled her down to meet my thrust.
My eyes drank Amy in as she closed her own against the pleasure thrumming between us. She looked beautiful with her lips parted on a moan and her golden skin damp with perspiration. I was totally in awe of her.
“Elijah,” she gasped as I filled her to the hilt.
She felt amazing as I caught my rhythm, thrusting up into her as she clung to me, her arms tight around my neck, her lace covered tits rubbing against my chest and her forehead against mine – our gazes never wavering from each other. Slowly, inch by inch, I pulled out and thrust back in, over and over and with only the sound of our breathing and our quiet moans filling the silence, Amy started to tremble around me. The pull of her fingers grabbing my hair and twisting it tightly as sweat dripped down my back was the most delicious pain imaginable, and with my fingers biting into the roundness of her arse, the chase for our orgasms became more frantic. I jack-hammered in and out, my mouth finding hers as she screamed out my name. I felt my balls tighten, then I came with such power, a harsh yell left my lips. I arched my back and with one hand on her arse and one at the back of her head, pushed Amy against me; skin on skin wasn’t close enough, I needed more.
As the waves of pleasure pulsing through my body started to fade, Amy slowly opened her eyes and gave me a contented, sleepy smile.
“Wow.”
“Yeah, wow,” I replied with a grin.
“We should stay in this hotel more often.”
“You think?” I asked, dropping a kiss to her shoulder.
“Hmm. It’s amazing. Most definitely five star.”
“Well that’s good to know. Anything the owners could do to improve it for you?”
Amy laid her head on my shoulder and sighed. “Not that I can think of. Maybe some wine or chocolates, but other than that, I’m more than happy with the service.”
“Well, funny you should say that.” With my finger under her chin, I urged her to lift her head. “Guess what’s in that cool box.”
She looked over at the blue cool box and smiled. “Wine and chocolates?”
“Yep, well wine for you and bottles of beer for me.”
“Thank you, and for the flowers. They’re the most beautiful bouquet I’ve ever seen.”
“You really like them?” I asked. “You sure you wouldn’t have preferred roses?”
She shook her head. “Nope. Wild flowers are far more beautiful and now they’ll always remind me of you.”
With a tightening in my chest, I pulled her closer. “I’ll remember that, always wild flowers, no roses.”
Kissing the corner of my mouth, she slowly lifted her hips and swivelled them in a figure of eight.
“I think I’m ready for more sex now,” she whispered. “How about you?”
As she lifted again, I felt myself go hard ins
ide her. “Oh yeah,” I replied and pushed her to her back. “I’m ready.”
This time with Amy beneath me, I made love to her slowly and whispered how much I loved her, vowing that I’d bring her wild flowers for the rest of my life.
Amy
aged 28
“Claudia, where are the candlesticks for the dining room?”
I looked again through the boxes lined up in the hallway, but I couldn’t see any candlesticks, even though I was sure I’d seen them earlier.
“Third box from the end,” she replied without looking up from the inventory she was taking of the deliveries we’d had that day.
I moved to the box and yep, there they were. “Sorry, I don’t know what’s wrong with me today.”
“Probably your dice with death,” Claudia deadpanned.
I didn’t respond but breathed in deeply. She was right, my almost fall the day before had shaken me, but I didn’t think it was the actual incident that had me discombobulated. In fact, I was pretty sure it was more to do with Elijah. The fact that he’d saved me, held me in his arms, and kissed my forehead kept playing through my head. I’d been too shaken up to think about it at the time, but once I was home and lying in a warm bath it hit me.
Elijah had saved me, but more to the point, I’d felt something shift within in me when I was in his arms. Everything I’d gone through; finding him with Lauren, leaving and going to live in London, coming home and finding that we would be working together – it all seemed to fade away. I’d gone back five years and was in the warm, safe arms of my husband whom I adored. But, I’d had to go and spoil it all by being a bitch. I couldn’t help it though, it spewed from my mouth without a thought. Worse was I’d barely thanked him for possibly saving my life.
“Ah fuck it,” I muttered, rubbing at my temple.
“What’s wrong?” Claudia asked.
My head shot around, having totally forgotten she was there. “Oh, just a bit of a headache. I think I’ll go and take some tablets. You be okay for a while, if I grab some fresh air too?”
Claudia nodded, grinning at me.
“What?”
“Would you be grabbing some fresh air on the south terrace by any chance?”
“No.” I frowned, and placing my iPad on top of one of the boxes, strode toward the kitchen. “Why would I?”
“Because Elijah is working out there.”
I rolled my eyes. “Like I care.”
* * *
Five minutes later and I was rounding the corner of the house, walking toward the south terrace, having told myself it was the quickest way to my car, because I needed to grab some swatches from the boot. It really was the best route, going via the north terrace meant traipsing through a load of mud, and to go through the front of the house meant I’d have to pass Claudia and she might ask me a question, and I was taking a short break until the throbbing in my head stopped. Okay, so it was more like a dull tap than a throb, but you couldn’t be too careful – I’d had a migraine once.
The first sight to meet my eyes was one I’d seen many times before, and it wasn’t any less perfect after five years – Elijah without a top on. I pulled to a stop and let out a long, drawn out sigh.
Strong, sculpted back muscles worked with power as his broad shoulders lifted the spade and pushed it into the mud and clay, and even from my vantage point, feet away from him, I could see the colourful patterns of his tattoos on his muscular arms - a beautiful moving picture.
As if I was watching an exotic animal that I didn’t want to scare, I held my breath, my eyes pinned to the sight in front of me. I’d never really forgotten what a supreme specimen of a man Elijah was, but the memories had gotten a little fuzzy around the edges, so I stared hard, knowing these images would have to last me a long time. I know I hated what he’d done to us, loathed him for breaking my heart, but I was still a woman and I still recognised a sexy man when I saw one.
When Elijah stopped digging, I took a step back, scared that he’d turn around and catch me watching him. One step was all I could take though, because I was trapped by his magnetism. My breath was pulled from my lungs when he stooped down, picked up a bottle of water, unscrewed the top, took a long swig and then tipped the rest over his head, water washing over every hard contour of his body.
“Shiiiitt,” I groaned, putting a hand to my stomach.
I was watching my own personal Diet Coke ad and couldn’t move. I was rooted to the spot, not that I wanted to move anyway. I almost felt like grabbing a chair from the kitchen and sticking around for the duration.
“Thought you might need this.”
I swivelled around to see Claudia standing behind me, holding out a tea towel from the kitchen. I looked at it and then up to her, frowning.
“What?” I whispered, glancing over my shoulder to check Elijah wasn’t looking.
“Oh sorry,” she said, coming closer. “Doesn’t he know you’re watching?”
“I…I’m not. I was just passing and wondered what he was doing. Anyway,” I snapped. “What’s the tea towel for.”
“Oh this,” she replied, her brows arching and a grin appearing. “I thought you might need it.”
“Why would I need it?” I asked with an agitated shrug.
“Drool, or knickers, whichever needs mopping up the most.”
* * *
It was official, I hated my assistant. She’d done nothing but smirk at me all afternoon. I’d even walked into the kitchen to be met with Genuwine’s, Pony blaring from her phone as she chatted to Elijah. When I stormed over and turned it off, stating I had a headache, Claudia commented that she thought I liked Magic Mike. Elijah then grinned at me and went back outside, leaving muddy footprints all over the kitchen floor. Of course I’d made Claudia clean it all up – payback was a bitch. However, having sent Claudia home for an early Friday evening finish, mainly because I was sick of her making the sound of the Bow Chica Wah Wah porno riff every five minutes, I was alone in the kitchen staring at the vase of wild flowers on the table. I should have been sorting through rug samples, but my eyes kept being dragged back to the foxgloves, daisies, and bluebells and corn buttercups. Whenever Elijah had bought me flowers, it had always been some version of the bouquet that I was staring at – it was his thing, and had been since he’d bought me flowers for the first time when we were teenagers. I loved them and the fact that he always tried to find new varieties each time, as long as their origins were wild. I’d missed having them and when I saw the foxgloves in the florist’s window display, my feet moved of their own accord inside. I’d planned on taking them home, but when I saw the bouquet on the passenger seat of my car, I couldn’t stand the thought of looking at them every night - reliving all the memories of birthdays, anniversaries, and ‘just because I love you’ times. Stupidly, I hadn’t considered that I spent more time working than I did at home, so the pain at looking at them was even greater than it might have been.
My heart hurt every time I saw the blues and yellows, or got a hint of their perfume, so I decided that the best place for them was the waste bin. I stood up and marched over to kitchen island where I’d put them, picked up the vase and then marched right over to the pull-out cupboard where the various household waste bins were. As I lifted my arm, ready to dump them, the door opened and in walked Elijah.
“What are you doing?” he cried.
I looked down at the flowers, the vase tipped at an angle so that the water was dripping down the side of the waste bin. “T-they are dead,” I stammered, making it sound more like a question.
Elijah stormed over to me and grabbed the vase from my hand and pulled it to his chest.
“They’re fine. They’re not dead. You can’t throw them away.”
His voice was low and his breath shallow as he stared at me, a pained expression on his face. I sucked in my bottom lip and felt a huge ball of emotion growing in the pit of my stomach, blinking back tears as I watched him, clinging on to the vase.
For a few seconds
we stood staring at each other, both of us still as statues, the only movement coming from the dust mites reflected in the early evening sunshine as they flew around us. Finally, Elijah cleared his throat and turned. He looked at the table and all my samples covering it and then did a half turn and went to the kitchen island and placed the vase in the middle, with a loud slam of the glass against the thick granite top.
“They’ll need fresh water tomorrow,” he said, his back to me. “I’ll take care of them.”
As I watched him reposition the vase and dead-head some of the flowers, I could see his shoulders were hunched and his head dropped. He looked crestfallen, broken even, and I couldn’t bear to be a witness to it any longer.
“Elijah leave them,” I said, going over him. “I’ll sort them.”
“You’ll throw them,” he snapped, his back to me. “When if you just gave them some care and attention they’d last a lot longer.”
“Maybe I should have done that with you,” I muttered, without thinking.
Making a growling noise from the back of his throat, he spun around to face me. “I didn’t need any more care and attention. I was perfectly happy, despite what shit you had going on in that head of yours.”
As he stared me down, his eye twitched and his nostrils flared and I didn’t think I’d ever seen him looking so angry. He’d looked hurt and heart broken when he’d turned up at Rachel’s to talk to me when I was leaving, and mad when he tried to tell me he was innocent, but this was different – this was bone deep anger. Every pore on his body was steaming with it, his eyes were wide with it and his stance was stiff with it.
“I don’t know how many times I have to tell you,” he said, his tone quiet and measured. “I didn’t have sex, or even attempt to have sex, with Lauren fucking Proctor.”
Elijah: The Cooper Brothers Page 6