Forfeit Page 5

  ‘Church, you? Now that I’d like to see.’ He grinned and she grinned back.

  ‘My favourite place on a Sunday, I’ll have you know.’

  ‘What the hell did you do to him, Cat?’ Cat was as passionate as hell, but with a mixture of “don’t touch me” messages and a vulnerability that said she knew what she was doing but wasn’t sure if she ought. Maybe he shouldn’t ask, but something about her said she was ready. She’d talk.

  ‘I offered to suck his dick.’ She shrugged, her voice low, circling her ring finger with a nervous, unconscious gesture. ‘I thought it might help.’

  ‘You can suck mine anytime, sweetheart.’

  ‘You’re so kind.’ Her tone was dry, but stronger. ‘But I don’t think you have any problems keeping a hard-on.’

  ‘Hard, soft, I’m always open to a blowjob, baby.’ She laughed then, throwing her head back, and his groin tightened instinctively. ‘Jeez, especially with a gorgeous throat like that.’

  ‘Christ, you are crude.’

  ‘Nothing crude about coming nice and deep inside a beautiful throat.’ He edged closer to her so that he could whisper in her ear. Watch the way the goosebumps came up and her nipples tightened. ‘Have you ever had a cock all the way down your throat, Cat? So deep that your muscles can tighten round the head, can milk every last drop from it?’ His cock was straining against his zip; it felt good and it felt like hell. He was torturing himself in the same way he loved to tease and torture her, and if she touched him right now it would tip him over the point of no return. He’d just wanted to have a chat, pleasant not horny, but this needed sorting. A girl like Cat deserved a man who’d appreciate everything she offered, not make her feel cheap. She was dirty, but in such a good way, and any creep who told her to hide it should be shot.

  She turned her head slightly, so that her hair brushed his face, the soft silk smelling of citrus and flowers and making him desperate to push closer to her so he could pick out every single note. ‘No, I’ve never had a cock deep inside my throat, Brent.’

  His throat constricted at the way her husky voice said his name, the reminder of the last time when she screamed it out as she came.

  ‘I’ve never even sucked a cock before yours in that hotel, never really wanted to.’ She looked him straight in the eye, her pupils so large and black they seemed to flood her face. ‘The smell put me off.’ She screwed up her little nose as though remembering. ‘I just thought maybe I should, then found out maybe I shouldn’t.’

  ‘Oh, you should, you really should.’ He ran his tongue over her lips, watching them part in anticipation.

  ‘And it won’t make me a whore?’ The husky throatiness of her voice caught in his gut. If he got any harder he’d be bursting out like the Incredible Hulk, which wouldn’t look good on the CCTV camera he’d just spotted.

  ‘Nothing you could do would make you a whore, my sex kitten, if you’re doing it with me.’ He took her hand from his thigh and brushed his lips against the knuckles. ‘What does my smell do to you?’

  He could have sworn he saw a shiver run through her, and her voice when it came had that torn edge telling him she wanted him. ‘Your smell ’ she ran her tongue over already damp lips ‘ makes me want you.’

  ‘Does it make you wet?’ She squirmed as he whispered against her mouth. ‘I think you’re getting all damp now, aren’t you?’

  She hadn’t answered but she didn’t need her to; her nipples were jutting against her top. He pulled back slightly, knowing that if he didn’t he’d be tempted to tear that skimpy top clean off and to hell with CCTV and anyone who might be watching. ‘Have you never heard the saying that a perfect wife should be a chef in the kitchen and a whore in the bedroom?’

  ‘Oh, I don’t think I’m interested in the chef bit.’ Her eyes had a dangerous gleam as she laughed, and then she wetted her lips with a tongue he could think of a hundred better uses for. And one very good use right now.

  ‘Well, I’ve got news for you. We’re heading home and cooking. Together. And then ’ he started the key in the car ignition ‘ we’ll see just how much of a whore you can be in the bedroom.’ He ran his hand gently over her bare knee, watching with satisfaction at the way she clamped her thighs together.

  ‘Would you like me to put my knickers back on for the cooking bit?’ Her voice was all sweet innocence and he groaned, resisting the urge to run his hand up the inside of her thigh and check out just how wet she was. Sweet Jesus, he’d been sat in a car with aching balls next to a girl with a damp, ready mouth and no knickers. And he’d done nothing about it. Which was something he needed to remedy, and fast.

  ‘I’m going to teach you to cook.’

  Cat grinned. She knew full well how to cook, but if it was a route to the bedroom and a good shag then she was game for a lesson.

  ‘But you really need to be dressed properly for it.’ He pulled a drawer open and fished an apron out. She took a step towards him. ‘You’ll be far too hot with the rest still on, darling; you obviously haven’t done much cooking.’

  ‘You can’t honestly …’ She looked at him. Apparently he could. He stood staring at her, dangling the apron from a large, capable hand in a way that sent a shiver through her. How could a man holding a pinny make her quiver from the inside out? Especially a man who looked like he shouldn’t know a rolling pin from a roasting pan.

  He watched wordlessly as she slowly slipped the summer dress over her head and draped it over a chair. Her body tightened at his scrutiny, her nipples pebbling as she undid the clasp of her bra and slipped the straps from her shoulders. She could see the growing outline of his penis even through the chinos. His gaze had drifted down to her panties and he raised an eyebrow, waiting for her to slip them off, clearing his throat as she wriggled her hips to free them of the lace. She dipped to slip her shoe off her foot.

  ‘Not those,’ he tutted, ‘you need to be able to reach the work surfaces comfortably, silly girl.’

  She licked suddenly dry lips and saw his throat tighten. He might be calling the shots but right now no one was really in control. She had the power as surely as he did; she could notch up the heat whether she was giving or taking. She ran a hand up to cover her breast, smoothing the palm over a nipple that was already hard.

  ‘You are one naughty girl.’ He took a step closer and dropped the apron over her, spinning her round abruptly and pulling the ties, his hard body pressed close against her naked back, his warm mouth close to her ear. ‘And naughty girls get punished, darling.’ His lips burnt a trail down the back of her neck and she gasped as he nipped her shoulder. ‘Eventually.’ His voice was a gentle breath against her skin, sending a shiver through her. ‘After we’ve eaten. I can’t let you starve, now can I?’

  He planted a trail of soft kisses along her shoulder, on her neck, and suddenly teasing him was off the agenda. He was calling the tune and she liked it. The subtle shift of power sent a tremor of anticipation between her thighs and she shifted back against him, hardly aware of what she was doing, letting her body lead the way. His throaty chuckle sent a matching wave resonating through her body. A body that was getting hotter by the minute. Suddenly, an apron seemed overdressed.

  ‘Think you can pour us a beer, darling?’

  ‘Mmm.’ Warm hands slipped down firmly to her hips, making her heart pound. ‘I’ll try.’ It was hard to control her voice, to keep it steady as his thumbs traced a line on each side of her crotch.

  ‘Glasses are up there.’

  She reached up, feeling his chest against her naked back as she stretched, then the rough harshness of his jeans as she eased back down, the mound of his hard cock rubbing against her, sliding between her cheeks. He pushed his groin firmly against her, sending a fizz through her body. Firm hands slipped under the apron and round to the front, slowly stroking between her legs as she fought to keep her breathing steady. The glass clattered against the worktop.

  She dimly heard the door of the fridge open, the clank of bottles as he r
eached for one with his free hand. Then the cold glass was in contact with her naked back and she gasped as new shards of desire shot straight down between her thighs, to the hand that he still had fondling her. He played the bottle along the length of her spine, rolling it over her buttocks. She groaned as his finger slid into her slick wetness, probing deeper as he rolled the bottle round her body to her stomach and then let it slip slowly, so slowly downwards over the soft curve of her mound. Then his hand had slipped down her inner thigh and he was pressing the bottle where it had been. Ice-cold glass against her burning, swollen lips. She felt her legs give, parting further as she had an overwhelming urge to wrap her thighs around the chilled sleekness, to press her throbbing clit against the unrelenting hardness.

  ‘Is that good?’ He breathed against her neck as she rolled her hips, mewing out an objection as he slid the bottle slowly up her front. ‘You’ll be boiling the beer, honey.’ He cupped her mound with his hand again, gently caressing, the tips of his fingers playing a rhythm on her clit until she pushed her bum back against him, leaning forward to grip the worktop as she started to pant. She closed her eyes as the gentle rhythm ate into her, controlling her body, forming into soft waves that slowly built deep inside, higher, stronger, until abruptly they broke, crashing apart, shattering into an orgasm reaching far beyond any violent explosion of want she’d ever had.

  She was dimly aware of him sweeping the hair up off her neck and his warm mouth was against the nape, his other hand still cradling between her thighs as she gently rocked the last of the sensation away.

  Brent snapped the top off the beer and took a swig, grinning at the way she squeaked an objection when he took his hand out from between her legs. He ran it over her back and down over that perfect bottom, the sweet smell teasing his nostrils. He really hoped he’d be able to keep control long enough to seduce her in the way he had planned. Which would be fine as long as she didn’t get that wilful glint in her eye like she had earlier, the naughty glow that said she might reach out any moment and take control. He felt an involuntary stab of anticipation shoot right down to his balls. Having her take control and ride him would be no hardship, but if he let his thoughts drift any further that way right now he’d lose it. And he didn’t want to. Not yet.

  The smell of her sweetness mingled with his beer, one sure-fire remedy for brewer’s droop. She turned slowly and for a moment he felt robbed of the sight of her buttocks, but then the full red lips and those come to bed eyes had hoved into view, seizing all his attention. For now. He passed her the bottle of beer, watching as those perfect lips wrapped round the neck and she took a long gulp, the path of the liquid rippling down her exposed throat. A sight that turned him on even more, if that was possible right now.

  ‘I think we better settle for an omelette.’

  She nodded and the sheet of long, silky hair slid over her shoulders. Silk that he would love to feel stroking slowly down his bare chest. He settled for planting a light kiss on her lips and groaned inwardly as they parted in response. For a second he was tempted to take more, but even a kiss, a long, deep kiss, could unhinge him right now. The taste of her mouth and the scent of her arousal would take him past the point of no return. He eased back away from her, leant against the kitchen table. Big mistake; images of her spread across the top of it with him pressed in deep behind her flooded his consciousness. Twelve months of abstinence obviously needed a lot of making up for. She was swaying slightly, those drunken eyes still following his every move. ‘Maybe the eggs can wait?’ A strange feeling of indecision clouded his mind.

  She nodded again and stepped closer. Brent shut his eyes. There were times to follow plans and right now wasn’t one of them. Now was about taking a chance. She’d taken one with him; maybe he should let go, just a bit. Look for a passion that wasn’t choreographed, allow an exploration that wasn’t just about letting her demons go but maybe risking his own in the process.

  The sound of her heels against the tiled floor echoed through his senses. The floral sweetness of her shampoo assailed his nostrils, along with the musky scent of her that still lingered on his fingers. She was swapping breath with him now, carefully unbuttoning his shirt with controlled urgency, the long tendrils of her hair stroking his skin as she slipped the fabric from his shoulders. He could feel the slight tremble of her fingers, the rub of harsh cotton between them as she leant against him. His hands slipped round, cupping her buttocks; firm mounds that yielded just enough to his touch.

  ‘A man could get addicted to someone like you.’ He pulled her hard against him, enjoying the startled whoosh of air as she relinquished control. And when he opened his eyes and met her gaze there was something bordering on serenity there, a peaceful acceptance of herself, of him, of the situation. He slipped the apron strings, ran the palm of one hand over her small, perfect breast, the harsh contrast of milky skin and pert, dark nipple sending urges to his groin, bringing back the throb to his cock that for a brief time he had managed to still. He tugged at one nipple and the shrill cry sent a knot of excitement to his stomach. For a moment he stared at the perfect face, took in the mix of innocence and knowing. Then he turned her, grasped the sheath of silky hair in one hand. ‘If I can’t have dinner on the table then I’m going to have you.’

  He saw the shiver that ran through her and then he had her leaning over the expanse of pine, one hand wrapped in her hair, pinning her down, and the other reaching for a pussy that ran with her juices. One long stroke was all he needed to feel the heat, the dampness, the low moan that told him she was ready for more than just a touch.

  Cat moaned out as the velvet softness of the tip of him stroked her opening. She’d heard him unzip, heard the sound of his jeans fall to the floor, pressed herself hard against the unrelenting top of the table, desperate to relieve her throbbing clit. She couldn’t move far, couldn’t push back as he held her hair firmly. He pressed his cock between her cheeks, the feel of his skin against hers sending a shiver through her that was a mixture of anticipation and fear. His hand hard on her hip held her still, the steady pressure of his cock making her clench involuntarily with strong buttock muscles that drew a strangled groan from him.

  His hand moved down, parting her thighs insistently, and then he was in her, with one hard drive that sent all of him deep where she wanted him. She gasped as her pussy closed around him, then his thumb was gently massaging her hole in a way that sent spirals of need straight up her spine and back to her engorged clit. It felt like her whole body was closing around him, gripping him tight with spasms that grew as he started to drive harder and harder into her, rocking her so that her nipples rubbed against the hard surface. Both of his hands were on her hips, holding tight as he picked up pace, then he pulled out and rolled her onto her back. Sliding her roughly to exactly where he wanted her.

  ‘Don’t stop.’

  ‘I want to see your face.’ His hands squeezed hard on her tits as he pushed once more into her, and she gripped the edges of the table, tight enough to stop her sliding, tight enough to thread the tension through her body, to will her entire being closer to eruption. Then she couldn’t hold the feeling any more as she wrapped her legs tighter around his waist, urging him deeper, closer, opening her hips wider to get as much of him as she could. Their eyes locked and the fierce intensity of control in his face tipped her straight over the edge, transforming a throbbing need into a rolling wave that spread from her pussy, up her stomach and down to legs that she could feel shaking as she gripped him tight. She lifted her hips higher, tilting her pelvis, and as he cried out, the spurting warmth inside her created a new after-ripple of delight.

  Brent put a hand on the table to steady himself as his breathing gradually steadied. Cat’s eyes were shut and she looked like some ethereal mermaid, her hair fanned out against the glow of the timber, her skin pale almost translucent in the dimming light. She was beautiful, with what was almost a frailty about her, and for a moment he wanted to promise he could give her whatever she wanted
if she could learn to take it. But that was the danger zone. That was no man’s land. This was about obsession, about getting her out of his system, not taking her into his life.

  This time she had come to him; this time she had wanted to start the dance, but he had finished. He bent forward to kiss one dark nipple, ran his tongue around it and drank in the soft sigh that came from her. He couldn’t make promises any more than she could, but he could make her aware of every single part of herself. He could make her feel.

  He ran his tongue down her stomach, heard the low moan as he pulled himself out of her.

  ‘I’m not so sure about your cooking skills.’

  ‘Maybe you’re just a crap teacher.’ She opened one eye.

  He nipped her thigh with his teeth and smiled as she yelled out. ‘Cheeky. I’ll cook for you, and then I think we better move on to your bedroom lessons.’

  ‘Is this part of your forfeit?’ Cat pulled herself up to sit on the edge of the table, not sure where things were going any more. It was getting too good. She had to stop if this wasn’t the game; stop before she got lulled into giving more of herself than she wanted.

  He pulled her to her feet, set her squarely before him. ‘The omelette isn’t but, believe me, what comes after is.’

  And she wasn’t sure if his words were a comfort or a disappointment.

  Chapter Five

  ‘We’ll eat and then I’m taking you out for a beer before I shag you senseless.’

  ‘Promises, promises, big boy.’

  ‘You betcha.’

  She raised an eyebrow. ‘Am I allowed to put clothes on?’

  ‘Shameless hussy. Go freshen up and cover that gorgeous body up or your life will become one long fantasy.’ He grinned, pulling his jeans on as he spoke, then ran a hand through his thick hair. Watching as a rush of pink raced to her cheeks. That was one of the things he loved about Cat; her tendency to reveal all, then blush at the drop of a hat.