“Join a sports club. Catch yourself a nice young firm bit of sausage on the side.”
“No. That’s far foo risky,” she said. “Everyone talks and I don’t dare give them ammunition. Plus, it could all go horribly wrong and I could end up pregnant again. No thanks. That’s most emphatically not what I’m looking for…”
“So… what would you be looking for?” I said, leaning forward towards her…
“Companionship. Daily sex. And… someone who would want to… to love me and… and just be there for me when I need to cry.”
I stared at her, trying to think of something to say.
“Sorry,” she whispered. “I’m not… good… at being social any more. And I’m rubbish at keeping my walls up around you.”
“You… don’t have to. Around me, I mean. I understand. Life’s hard. And lonely. I’m glad I met you. I’m sorry it took me so long to find you.”
“So am I,” she sighed.
She stared down at her wineglass.
“This wine is vile,” she said, all of a sudden.
I sighed, relieved.
“Oh thank God, I thought it was just me.”
“No, it’s shit. It’s really shit. I’m going to bin it and make myself an Irish coffee. Would you like one?”
“I’ve… um… I’ve never had one…”
“Then let me teach you something new.”
She stood, and offered me her hand and, swallowing, I took it. She pulled me up and towed me after her, wafts of her subtle trailing scent tying themselves in knots around my senses.
“Stand here,” she said, steering me to a section of the worktop with a gentle touch of her hand to the small of my back.
I shivered; she thankfully didn’t seem to notice.
I stared hungrily at her as she went to dig in a cupboard; watched the way her jeans cupped and flowed with her, watched the way the tee shirt rode up her back and exposed the quite exquisite line of her spine as she bent to rummage.
I would sell my soul to kiss you there, came the bitter and unhelpful thought.
She returned with a jar of coffee beans. She came to stand right next to me, the curve of her hip just brushing against my belly as she leaned forward over the counter top to reach for the grinder.
I couldn’t help it; a little whimper escaped me and I pushed back against her.
I heard her take a sharp, shaky breath.
My heart was doing something crazy three counties over.
She turned slowly towards me, stared at me, licked her lips as if she were… nervous.
I was unable to look away.
“Willa?” she breathed.
“Uh… huh…” I gulped.
She stared at me a moment more.
Slowly, so slowly it seemed to be a dream, she leaned in…
and…
closed her eyes…
and…
(with an almost inaudible moan)
… kissed me.
I reacted almost instinctively; I wrapped my arms around her waist and pulled her lovely firm hip hard against my belly. The jar clattered onto the counter top; she spun in my embrace and clutched my shoulder blades and clung to me as she arched herself against me.
Dimly I realised that she was trying to worm her leg up between mine.
I grunted, shivered as my body responded to the wonderful pressure of her thigh against my crotch. I braced myself against the counter, trailed my nails up her back and then back down along her shoulders, driven nearly wild by the moan she let out, by the soft perfection of her lips and tongue and the sheer wonderful taste of her…
I managed to tangle my fingers into her hair, holding her to me, almost bruising my mouth against her as my need took over.
She gasped a breath and began to kiss my neck, my shoulder, my jaw, nibble my earlobe as I clung to her, clutched her, groaning and wriggling and panting as she got as close to me as she could.
“Slow… down…” I panted.
“No,” she moaned. “No, no, no, I need you, please, please don’t make me stop now… I want to feel what it’s like. I want to feel what you’re like. I want you,” she cried out. “I want you so much. Just… just make me feel loved, just make me feel needed, just for a bit, just for…”
She forced me back against the counter again, trying desperately to persuade me.
My entire body was on fire, incandescent, nerves jangling, aching in a way that I had never felt before.
I tried to get my hands up under her shirt to those breasts I so desperately wanted to touch.
She writhed, fumbled down between us.
And I cried out a shuddering, desperate “Wait!” as she forced her hand down between my legs and I felt her fingers groping for me through the thin woven fabric of my skirt.
That brought her back to me; she stopped, pulled away, staring at me, breathing hard, a frown creasing her gorgeous brow.
I stared back at her, drowning in those eyes, feeling that almost hurt, almost accusatory gaze deep in my belly…
Then I shuddered hard again, gasping as my body let me know that it didn’t appreciate being reigned in like that.
Her fingers felt so good where they were.
I snatched a breath.
I tried to form the words that I needed to say to her.
“Sam,” I moaned.
“Uh huh,” she answered, also out of breath. She shifted her leg in the most wonderful way against me.
I tried to suppress the driving urge to spread my legs for her.
“Say I… do this. Say we… carry on like this.”
“Uh huh.”
New Book: Back Home to Marry Off Myself
Loredana’s father left the family for his mistress, leaving them to fend for themselves abroad. When life was at its toughest, her father showed up with “good news” after 8 years of absence: To marry off Loredana to a paralyzed son of the wealthy Mendelsohn family.
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