In Too Deep (21 page)

I gasp and my hips work of their own accord, just like those of Robert Stone’s beautiful companion. He’s stopped hitting her for a moment, and she’s writhing across his sturdy knees, working herself against him, trying to stimulate herself.

‘You’re as naughty as she is.’ Daniel moves closer, his mouth inches from mine. ‘I bet it does excite you. I bet you read all sorts of wicked books down there in that library basement of yours, don’t you? I’ve seen them. I know what’s down there.’

And still he’s flick, flick, flicking me, and I’m compelled to gyrate my bottom. But that doesn’t knock him off target, no way. It’s as if he’s laser-guided, surgeon-precise.

‘But that means you’ve read those books too,’ I gasp, still trying to fight him because somehow I know that’s what he wants. It’s part of the game, one of the figures you have to go through in the course of this dance. ‘So you’re a pervert too.’

‘Shush!’ He gives me a hard kiss, the classic romantic, punishing kiss, all the time circling his finger where it matters. My body gathers itself, but he snatches his hand away and puts it over my mouth as he breaks the kiss, still scented from me. ‘We’re talking about you, Ms Gwendolynne Price, not me.
And
about all the dirty little secrets you hide behind that prim, professional librarian’s façade of yours.’

I want to tell him that I’ve never affected a prim façade, even when I was relatively inexperienced, but I’m too close to coming. And anyway, his strong hand is still firmly across my mouth.

As one, we return our attention to the screen. Although that’s not such a good idea for me, on the brink as I am, because in the interim Robert Stone has manhandled his lover on to the bed and moved her into the doggy position, her bare, rosy bottom raised high and her slender thighs parted. I gasp behind Daniel’s fingers as our exhibitionist friend unzips himself and reveals an impressive penis to match his height and build.

For a second, I glance up at Daniel’s face and he laughs at me, much more himself suddenly, no longer Nemesis.

‘I’m not intimidated. I’m not intimidated. I’m not intimidated.’ He rolls his eyes behind his glasses, and, as I can’t speak, I tell him with my eyes that I have no complaints about him in that department. I’m more than delighted, thrilled and awed by
his
splendid cock. He gets the message and gives me a wink. We turn back to the action, neither of us unmoved. I’m still dying to come, and Daniel’s sporting a monumental bump in his trousers.

The lovers are fucking now. Stone is powering into his darling with majesty and enthusiasm, going at her like a piston, yet somehow almost tenderly. It’s in the way he holds her hips, and the way that, from time to time, he reaches forward to lay his hand on her shoulders, her neck. There’s love in their union, wild sweet love. Oh, how I want that! I want the exquisite cherishing way he curves his body over hers as she’s clearly about to come. The way his mouth moves, the silent words unmistakeable as he reaches beneath her and strokes her to embellish her pleasure.

They jerk and rock, their lips framing cries of ecstasy and love, their hips heaving and juddering until at last it’s over and Robert Stone executes a sort of sideways roll, taking his sweetheart with him, pulling her to lie sideways with him instead of just collapsing his not inconsiderable post-coital weight upon her. The last thing I notice, just before Daniel clicks the remote, is that their linked hands are both wearing wedding rings. I can’t imagine them being anyone’s but each other’s.

‘Crikey, she’s his wife. It’s married kink. They could be at home bonking, but they obviously like to show off.’

‘Some couples do, I suppose.’ Daniel’s frowning slightly, and he sits up, pushing his hand through his hair, scrunching his eyes up behind his glasses.

Alarm bells ring in my heart. Is he OK?

Then, an instant later, he’s smiling again.

‘So, those naughty exhibitionists … did they turn you on?’

‘You know they did!’ He obviously wants me to say it. ‘Surely you could feel it?’

‘Yeah, you’re fabulously wet, my little Library Queen. There’s quite a pond down there.’ He lays his hand over my bush in a slight curve, middle finger dipping but not making contact. I could shout and kick, it’s so frustrating, but somehow I hold the pose he seems to have assigned me.

‘Little? You must be joking.’

‘Tut-tut, we’re not going to have this discussion yet again, are we?’ He gives me a stern little shake of the head and his finger ventures a little closer to the hot zone. Then his eyes change and become open, sincere, strangely innocent. ‘Gwendolynne, it’s not a lie, or a line, when I tell you that you have a fabulous body. It’s true. It’s what I believe. You have the most beautiful, glorious shape I’ve ever seen.’ For a split second, he looks totally stricken – and terribly afraid – but then, just like before, he’s back to normal. Almost. ‘Or am likely to …’

I open my mouth, on the point of begging him to confide in me, tell me what’s troubling him, but then he touches me and we’re back in the lush world of drowning sensuality again, because he’s touching my clit and bending over me to press his lips to my throat, and then to the upper curve of one of those ample breasts he’s so fond of. My hips rise to the contact, and my skin burns beneath his mouth.

‘So, what’s it to be, goddess?’ he breathes, a zephyr of heat against the slope of my bosom. ‘A spanking? Or a fuck? Hell, I know what I want!’ He shimmies his body, twisting so he can press his erection against my bare hip. He’s huge and hot and, hell, I know what I want too. Let’s save the bottom-centric antics of the devoted Stones for another day, eh?

‘Me too.’ Breaking the secret bondage pact, I reach down and cup him and he gasps, rocking into it. His finger rocks too, on my clit.

Then we’re a whirl of motion, an unspoken agreement to get naked. I pull and snap at bra straps and garters without taking my eyes off the emerging beauty I first saw the other day, down in the library washroom. My stuff comes off in double-quick time, but Daniel is more circumspect, especially when, very hesitantly, he plucks off his glasses and lays them aside. Immediately, he blinks, then tears off the rest of his things and just throws himself at me, as if anxious to make up in skin-skin contact what he loses with his less than perfect vision.

Kissing me, he rubs the full length of himself against me, much the way he rubbed his face against my breasts a little while ago. It’s as if he’s ‘seeing’ me with all of himself, absorbing the texture of my skin, the resilience of my flesh, the frisky rub of my pubic hair. His own pubic hair and the mighty penis that springs from it are pretty frisky too. His erection slides and pushes and silently dominates me.

We slither and wriggle against each other for a while, teasing and tantalising and upping the ante. Eventually he grabs me and holds me tight against him, his cock like a bar of fire against my soft rounded belly.

‘I want you like he had her,’ he growls in my ear, nudging, pushing. ‘I want you on all fours. I want to see that sensational bottom while I’m fucking deep inside you.’

Ah, such coarse, delicious words from the erudite and sophisticated professor. What would his swooning lady fans think if they could hear what I’m hearing?

‘Come on, sex goddess, I
need
to fuck you!’

He rolls away slightly, then grabs me by the middle, turns me and lifts me with impressive dexterity and masterfulness. Like an obedient she-animal, I come up on my elbows and knees, my hair dangling down around my face. I hear him open the bedside drawer, fish around and shut it again. Obviously the Waverley is well stocked with condoms. Then he dims the light and we’re in faintly lit near-darkness. Well, if he can’t see too well anyway, what’s the difference … and me, I can feel, I can feel!

The air in the room is warm and balmy, the surface of the quilt crisp beneath my knees and elbows. The faint scent of potpourri tickles my nostrils, and the stronger smells of our blended colognes and my sex, ripe and musky.

Daniel moves against me, and his skin is very hot. He’s not a gorilla, but I feel the rub of male hair on his chest, and on his legs and thighs as he moves over me and grabs me by the waist again, not entering me, just working his entire body against mine, making me know it by touch and heat and scent. His lips settle on the back of my neck and, as he kisses me there, he reaches underneath me and roughly fondles my breasts, switching from one to the other, squeezing and revelling in the abundance and springiness of my flesh.

‘You’re beautiful, Gwendolynne,’ he murmurs again, the sound muffled because he’s licking and kissing at the same time. He can barely see me in this diminished light, but the raw quality of his voice convinces me there’s beauty in the tactile contact alone.

I sway, rub back against him as hard as he’s massaging me with his torso, his thighs, his latex-clad cock. I’m in an ecstasy of heat and body-scents and strong male flesh.

And then he’s at me, at my entrance, probing gently with his fingers, adjusting my soft folds, making space for his hard, high erection. I feel the swollen glans pushing and pushing, and it’s as if it’s all brand new, even though it’s been there before. He moves right over me, even further, rests the side of his face against the crook of my shoulder and neck, and edges inside me. I can feel his beautiful dark curly hair tickling me, and the faint hint of stubble scratching my skin as he jerks his hips and tries to shove for full penetration.

So close and so frantic, it’s a bit of a fumble. He backs up, comes up on his knees, grabs me by the hips and, adjusting his angle, places himself better with his fingertips. Pitching on to one elbow, and falling forwards to press my face amongst the pillows, I reach around to clasp his muscular thigh and brace myself against him.

Bingo! He slides in, really deep. Now we’re fitted together, he drapes himself over me again, as if seeking maximum contact. His heated body feels like a blanket across my back, and tears spring into my eyes, just from the sense of closeness. For a few moments, as we’re still against each other, it almost doesn’t feel like sex at all.

I know I love him. It’s crazy. Unwise. And I don’t think there’s a future for it. But still I don’t regret the feeling. Didn’t somebody once say in a film, ‘A life lived in fear is a life half lived’? Well, I’m not going to hold back on loving Daniel Brewster for
fear
of it ending or not being reciprocated. Life’s too short. I’ll take this emotion while I can.

‘You feel amazing,’ he says softly, his breath sweetly stroking the back of my neck. ‘Such a perfect fit … It’s never felt like this before.’ He gives a little push and the fit’s better than perfect.

Men, they’ll say anything, but his words still move me. I rub my face against the pillow, ineffectually drying my eyes and probably wrecking my makeup. I push myself back against him, wishing he could climb inside my skin, my brain and my heart, so I could know his secrets.

But we can’t go on like this forever. Inevitably, he begins to move, and it’s ineffable. He’s big. He stretches me all ways, in and out. Each thrust tugs diabolically on my clitoris. I hold out against the sensations, but they dazzle me. I want to come, and to be touched as I’m fucked.

Daniel reads my mind as if he actually
has
crawled inside it. Taking his weight on one arm, he searches around beneath me, into my bush, and finds my clit. Considering how skewed his concentration must be now, from raw male lust, he still manages his usual breathtaking pinpoint accuracy. I think momentarily of the clumsiness I’ve experienced in the past, and acknowledge he’s a most superior lover. He times his delicate strokes with the big thrusts of his powerful hips, and not once does he waver or miss the beat.

I shout. Growling, ‘Oh God! Oh hell! Oh shit!’ or something equally banal, I grind my hips back against him as my sex clenches around him and my mind fills with white light. It’s as if my loins exist in another space, and my brain is in short circuit. My only awareness is of rapture, rapture, rapture … and the heartbreaking warmth and beauty of Daniel’s body.

And then I’m in a sort of heap beneath him, still slightly coming, but aware again, and trying to do my bit to make it
good
for him, rather than lying here like a selfish heap of insensible protoplasm. I jerk against him, trying to syncopate, and at the same time clasp at his thigh, his buttock, holding him to me and trying to draw him in even deeper. My reaching fingertips brush his anal furrow and he gives a raw and aching cry. I stroke it again, the best I can, and his hips lurch out of control and he starts to pound me, coming furiously.

We collapse in a muddle of heat and limbs … and tears.

12 In the Dark

A WHILE LATER
, we’re lying silently in the darkness. The light’s out, the condom is disposed of and our hearts are gently thudding at a normal resting rate. We lie side by side under the quilt and all’s quiet and cosy, but I’m painfully aware that I might have said, ‘I love you’ among all the ‘fucks’ and ‘hells’ … and I’m wondering if Daniel heard it, and what he thinks. He seems relaxed, but with men you never know.

‘That was nice,’ he says at length, although I get an inkling that he knows that’s an understatement. It certainly understates what I felt. That must have been the best instance of lovemaking I’ve ever experienced in my life. I can’t call it a fuck because it was much more than that.

‘Yes, it was …’ I’m at a loss to express the impact he had upon me. I’ve probably said far too much already, in the throes.

The room is all sooty shadows, because the curtains are very thick. The only light comes from the illuminated numbers on the bedside clock, like tiny glow-worms in the darkness. I feel Daniel turn on his side to face me, then his fingers settle on my cheek, so lightly that they might be made of moth’s wings.

‘It was more than nice,’ he says, and then the touch of his lips on my brow is even lighter.

There’s a great sense of something breaking inside me, and all my protestations to myself about risks being worth it start to falter. The idea of being without him, after being with him,
takes
my breath away and, unable to stop myself, I reach for his head, dig my fingers into his silky curls and pull his face down to mine for a proper kiss. He tastes of the delicious strawberries that we guzzled hungrily after we’d finished fucking. Urges that ought to have been well and truly sated start to stir again.