Outside, with the days getting longer, darkness was only now beginning to set in. Her view was spectacularly unexciting. The back of the house overlooked the wall of another house; the outside space comprised of a pocket-sized back garden just big enough for Phillipa to lie down in summer and spend the day tanning without having to dismantle the washing line.
Their bodies, merging together, were reflected hazily back to them in the windows overlooking the garden and their eyes tangled in the reflection as he slowly pushed up her jumper until she could see both their bodies and the pale nudity of her breasts. She gasped and fell back slightly against him as he began massaging them, rhythmic, firm movements that pushed them up, making her large nipples bulge and distend.
‘Damien...no...someone might see us...’ Although that wasn’t really a possibility. The one thing about the house and its location was that it was surprisingly private, given the fact that it was in London, where privacy was a rarity. The small back garden was fully enclosed with a fence and a fortuitous tree in the back garden of the neighbour opposite ensured limited view.
Damien continued rubbing her breasts, filling his hands with the heavy weight of them, bouncing them slightly, as though evaluating their worth.
‘Get naked for me,’ he murmured, nipping her neck and then trailing hot kisses along it.
‘Get...what...?’
‘Don’t pretend you didn’t hear. Get naked for me. Take your clothes off. Scratch that. Maybe I’ll let you get away with just wearing an apron...’
‘I’m not dressing up for your enjoyment!’ But already the thought of his dark, intense eyes following her naked body as she moved around the kitchen was making her feel hot and bothered.
‘I’m not asking you to dress up. I’m asking you to dress down...’ He shifted her jumper up, over her breasts, and Violet responded by spinning round to face him, her bare breasts pushing against the hard wall of his chest.
She began unbuttoning his shirt. From a position of relative inexperience only months ago, she had grown in confidence. He might not have had it at his disposal to offer anything most women would have expected of a proper relationship, but he certainly had it within him to turn her into a woman who was no longer tentative when it came to responding in ways that would pleasure her.
She shoved her hands under his shirt and felt the abrasive rub of his chest, not smooth and androgynous, but aggressively masculine with its dark hair. Slowly, she pushed the shirt off his broad shoulders, running her hands expertly along the contours of his muscles until the shirt had joined her jumper on the kitchen floor.
He propped himself against the counter, caging her in, and took his time kissing her until her whole body was burning up and she could feel the damp heat pooling between her legs.
‘Those jogging bottoms do nothing at all for your superb figure... They should be banned from your wardrobe...’ He slipped his fingers underneath the stretchy waistband and tugged them down, allowing her to wriggle out of them, keeping his arms on either side of her so that her movements were restricted. When he looked down, he could see her generous breasts shifting as she moved, soft and succulent. Unable to resist, he captured one and lifted it until her nipple was pouting directly at him. Reluctantly he decided that a full-on assault would have to wait. He wanted to take his time. She had been in his head for days; frankly, from the last time he had seen her, which had been the previous week, and he wasn’t going to rush things. He had spent hours fantasising about the next time they met and he intended to see at least some of those fantasies translated into sexy reality.
‘Same goes for the underwear...’
‘But it’s beautiful lacy underwear...’ Violet protested with mock hurt. ‘Brand new! And very expensive...not the sort of underwear a hard-working teacher can afford too much of...’
‘I’ll buy you the store. Then you can save your hard-earned salary for other things...’
Violet traced the outline of his flat brown nipples, moistened her fingers with her tongue, traced them again, and relished the way he flexed in immediate, gratifying response.
‘I like the underwear,’ Damien asserted huskily as he looked down at the lacy lavender piece of nothing. ‘I just don’t like it on you at this particular moment in time...’ He pointedly tugged the lace, then, without giving her time to protest, knelt in front of her.
Looking down with a little gasp, Violet saw the dark bowed head of a supplicant. Even if he was very far from being one. It was an incredible turn-on.
He gently urged her thighs slightly apart and then peeled the underwear back, revealing the lushness of her hair.
With a shudder, she braced herself against the counter, head flung back, knowing that if she wasn’t careful she would come in seconds. As his tongue slipped into the groove of her wetly receptive sex, she could hear the faint slick sounds as he licked and explored, with his finger still holding the underwear to one side.
She clenched her fists and gritted her teeth in a mammoth effort not to come against his questing mouth.
She reached down to tug his hair and, on cue, he straightened. Her hands scrabbled helplessly at his trousers and he gave a deep throaty laugh and began to unzip them.
‘We haven’t made it to the food,’ he murmured.
‘But at least we’re not on the staircase...’ As if that said anything, as if it implied any more restraint. It didn’t. She was as desperate for him now as she always was when he came through her door.
‘No. The kitchen. Lots of scope for being inventive...although would you rather we ate the food than tried playing with it...?’ Damien laughed at her shocked expression. She had only had one other lover. He had managed to get that out of her ages ago and, from the sounds of it, that one lover had hardly been sizzling in the bedroom stakes. Every time they made love, he felt as though he was coming to her as her first and the feeling that generated was beyond satisfaction. ‘Okay,’ he drawled, ‘maybe next time. I could teach you some very inventive things that can be done with champagne and cherries...’
He removed his trousers and underwear in one smooth movement. The kitchen was warm and fragrant with the food that had already started cooking. Outside, night had finally drawn in. With the lights off, they were just two shadows touching, feeling and responding to one another.
He breathed in her uniquely feminine scent, something to do with a light floral perfume she wore. It wouldn’t have suited everyone but it damn well suited her. Even when they were apart, he could recall the smell and it always managed to get him aroused. How was that possible? He half closed his eyes and was relieved that she couldn’t witness that momentary lapse of self-control.
For a few seconds a streak of anger flared inside him. A confused, chaotic anger that resented the peculiar hold he sometimes thought she had over him. He lifted her, taking her by surprise, and sat her on the counter, shoving aside the remnants of food and cutlery still to be cleared.
‘What are you doing?’ Violet’s voice was breathless as her rear made contact with the cool surface of the kitchen counter.
‘I’m taking you.’
‘But...’
He didn’t say anything, instead holding her with one hand while he bent to retrieve the wallet from his trousers, home of at least one extremely useful condom if memory served him right. He was hard and erect, throbbing with an urgent need to sink into her body and feel it wrap itself around him like a glove.
Her hands were on his shoulders and her short pearly nails were digging into his flesh. Leaning back, her breasts were thrust out, nipples standing to attention. He paused briefly to take one into his mouth, sucking hard on it until she was whimpering and crying out and could no longer keep still. His leisurely lovemaking plan had taken a nosedive. Pushing open her legs and angling her just right so that she was ready to receive him, he entered her.
Pleasure exploded in her like a thunderbolt. She could feel every magnificent inch of him as he moved inside her, strong, forceful and with deepening intensity.
This was almost rough and yet it felt so good. She heard herself crying out and the sound seemed to be coming from someone else.
‘Talk to me!’ he demanded, curling his long fingers into her hair, tugging her into looking at him. Which she did, through half closed eyes because she was pretty much beyond focusing on anything but what he was doing to her.
‘Damien!’ He talked dirty to her but it was something she had not done in return. Some lingering element of prudishness always seemed to stand in the way.
‘Tell me how you’re feeling with me inside you!’ He emphasised the order with a powerful thrust that made her slide a little way back on the counter.
Violet shivered with heady abandon. She clutched him and told him exactly what he was demanding to know. How it felt to have him in her, filling her up, taking away her ability to think. Her breasts ached for him. She wanted his mouth on them. She just couldn’t get enough of him...
To her own ears, every word she uttered seemed to plunge her deeper and deeper into a vulnerable place. Would he pick that up? Was that finely tuned instinct of his sharp enough to pick up what wasn’t being said behind the graphic descriptions? That she literally couldn’t get enough of him, and not just on the physical, carnal plane, addictive though that was? That, for her, want was very much interlinked with need, which was dangerously close to...