Sexy as Hell Box Set (58 page)

Suddenly I knew what it was. I reached for her left leg and tugged it upwards, so her knee was bent and the flat of my right palm was on her arse cheek.

She groaned in this new position, but I knew she was flexible, her weekly Pilates saw to that.

“Does it feel good like this?” I asked against her ear before giving it a nip.

“
Ow, oh, yes, and you’re so big…” She paused as I rammed into her again. “And hard.”

“Yeah, and it’s all for you.” I slipped my fingers to her wet pussy, skimmed the stretched skin of her entrance thinning around the base of my cock. Fuck, she was wet, sopping wet. “I want you everywhere,” I said, the words catching in my throat. “And here too.” I slipped my moist finger over her anus, and after finding purchase at the centre, slipped in.

“Oh, oh, Victor!”

She froze, but I didn’t. I kept on fucking her wildly, crazily. Loving the feeling of her tight arsehole giving around my finger. I added another, no problem, and slid in and out in a pumping action. God, she was hot, hot and sexy, and I wanted to come inside her, on her, in her every orifice and on each tit.

I withdrew my cock and my fingers, reared up then flipped her over, onto her stomach.

She yelped in surprise, her face burying in a pillow. In an instant I had my dick back inside her. I would have liked to take her blouse off, feel her skin against my chest, but I didn’t have the time, so bunching the flowery material up to her shoulders would have to do.

“So fucking tight,” I said, licking the nape of her neck, “you’re so tight, Catherine. This is so good fucking you like this.”

“Yes,” she groaned. “Oh, yes.”

I slipped my left hand between her and the mattress, found her clit and rubbed in firm, circular movements.

She bucked back, then pressed into me. I knew I had her, she’d found her spark. A small bubble of triumph gripped me. She was taking it hard and fast and enjoying it. Thank God, maybe there
was
hope for us. Perhaps I could find her darker side and let it out to play with mine.

“Oh, oh, oh…” She held her breath and then let out the high-pitched squeak I’d become used to when she came. Kind of like a mouse being strangled or a kitten trodden on.

Her cunt spasmed around my cock, squeezing and pulsing wildly, a gush of her cream heating my shaft and basting my balls. Copious and silken, it oiled my way. My release was in sight, but only one thing was on my mind, only one thing would sate the monster.

Her arse.

The time for games was over.

I pulled out of her pussy, slid the moist head of my cock to her anus and pushed inside, the tiniest amount.

She was still throbbing with orgasm, her body stiff, taut, a cable about to reach snapping point.

“Ah yeah, take me,” I groaned, slipping in a bit more, her natural lube easily coating the way.

She flipped her head from one side to the other. Gripped the bedsheet. “Victor, oh…”

“Please, oh, yes, please,” I groaned. “Let me in.” This was what I’d been craving; the dark erotic pleasure of rear entry. I shut my eyes, focused on sensation.

“Victor, you’re in my, oh…Victor.” She pushed back against me, gasped.

I sank deeper, and heat and softness surrounded me in a wondrous combination of sensations.

Catherine writhed and shook. She shifted her head left to right and squeaked and groaned.

She was coming again. Hallelujah. I went deeper still, until her anus clamped the root of my cock. Then I came, pressure bursting from me in a gallop of bliss.

I roared my pleasure as she moaned my name.

My balls felt like they were going to be ripped through my shaft. The huge spurt of cum flooded the condom.

“Victor,” Catherine gasped. “What are you…?”

“Fuck, I’m sorry.”

A semblance of sense returned. This wasn’t Zara, who loved nothing more than a good seeing to up the arse, this was sweet, delicate Catherine. What the hell
was
I doing?

Quickly I withdrew, lifted up and stared down at her buggered arsehole. It was trembling;
she
was trembling.

I snapped off the condom, dropped it in a bin and then, still breathless, gathered Catherine into my arms. “Are you all right?” I asked.

She snuggled into my chest, her hands in fists and her body tense and shaking. She’d enjoyed it, hadn’t she? She’d pushed back onto my cock when it had been up her arse. Hadn’t said no or tried to get away.

But what if she’d been her usual polite self?

“Fuck, I’m so sorry.” I kissed the top of her head, pushed a strand of hair from her damp brow. I felt wretched, like a monster, the idiot fool I’d been when lust had overtaken me at the club and I’d fucked Zara against the wall without taking any notice of whether or not she was enjoying herself.

But Catherine had, she’d come, twice. I’d been well aware of that. Felt and heard her pleasure bubbling through her.

I grabbed hold of the cover beneath us, flipped it up so the excess landed over us. Pressed my lips to Catherine’s hair again and pulled her into my body.

She wriggled closer; a small shiver attacked her small frame.

Sexual aftershocks? Or from revulsion? If it were the latter I’d hate myself.

“Can you ever forgive me?” I asked. Could I forgive myself?

“There’s nothing to forgive.”

I tilted her chin, angled her face to mine. “Of course there is. I’ve made you shake—hell, what I just did was unforgiveable. I understand if you want me to leave. That, what I just did, was something we should have discussed first, not me just get carried away and do it.”

“No. it’s okay.” She shook her head. “Don’t leave, Victor, please don’t leave. No, please I—”

“Okay, okay, I won’t. I promise.”

She pressed her hand over my chest, her fingertips just grazing my nipple.

“Talk to me,” I whispered. “Please, why do you want me to stay after
that
?” The words had been sharp in my mouth, nettle-like and wrapped in shame.

She hesitated for a moment, then, “I want to be the type of woman you need and be able to give you everything you desire, and I know that’s the modern thing to do, take it up the…” She paused. “But…”

“But what?” God, we were talking about sex. This was good, or it would be if I didn’t feel like such a Neanderthal.

She looked away. “But maybe we could take it slower next time.”

“Yes, of course, if you prefer it slow.”

“Well I don’t really know, I really only have that one experience to go on.”

Of course that had been her first time having her arsehole breached. Shit. I
was
a brute. If she did let me stay I’d make it up to her in every way I knew how.

“But
you
like it?” she said earnestly. “Don’t you?”

I couldn’t deny it. “Yes.”

“Then that’s fine.”

God, why was she being so sweet about this? “No it isn’t. I want you to enjoy it too.”

“I’m sure I’ll get used to it.”

“Catherine, if you don’t like it we won’t do it again. I swear on my life, I never will—”

“We will.” She set her mouth in a determined line. “I know you’re more experienced than I am in this sort of thing—you know, in the bedroom—but I’m willing to learn, for you. Even though it’s all a bit scary. I want to make you happy, because that will make
me
happy.”

“You want me to teach you?” Jesus, this was like a weird
déjà vu
, but backwards.

“Yes, teach me everything you know, here, this week. Show me, Victor, how to be the sex goddess you want in the bedroom.” She smiled, a little weakly, but her eyes were determined, the tilt of her jaw certain. “Take me to those places you want to go. I promise I’ll do my best to follow.”

I should have been happy. I should have been ecstatic. I should have been many bloody things but I wasn’t.

I stood outside the villa by myself, having claimed to Catherine that I needed a moment to return the text message I’d received on the plane. In reality, I just wanted a few minutes alone. I didn’t like feeling so topsy-turvy, emotions going every which way. I had to sort them out before I went back inside and Zara and Ollie made a reappearance. Zara would spot something was up in an instant, and the last thing I needed was her veiled comments and sly little looks, her winding me up for pleasure.

Within the shade of a few evergreen trees, I let out a huff of laughter. Zara was going to get a shock. There she’d be, getting right into a conversation with Catherine about arse sex, and it would now be a waste of time. I’d managed that feat by myself, and although it hadn’t gone quite the way I would have wanted, Catherine had been willing, excited by my beast—
and
had enjoyed the experience. Well, despite the surprise, she’d had two orgasms, so what else was I supposed to think? Hell, she’d even asked for more, more of everything over the coming week.

Why didn’t I feel good, then? Why did my arse encounter with her feel so wrong when she’d assured me it had been okay? Why did being here with her feel as though we were just acting out the lives of Victor and Catherine, the successful couple, going by some invisible script that someone else had written?

It had to be because Zara and Ollie were here. And the differences between the type of sex we were all having. Mine and Catherine’s was somewhat fake, planned out, with me always working towards what I wanted us to do, my mind on what should happen next rather than me just going with the flow. And Zara and Ollie…Christ, they’d be having a high old time of it. Nothing planned—well, nothing that Ollie would realise was planned, and Zara could make a well-thought-about sex hour appear impromptu, natural.

When would Catherine be comfortable enough to behave like Zara? All fluid motions instead of a coiled spring? Displaying obvious enjoyment—abandonment to the sexual act—instead of seeming as though she was enduring?

I had to admit that I didn’t think she ever would, not fully anyway—and there, right there, was the problem. Although she was willing, she just wouldn’t be comfortable with it—with any of it—and what was the point in that? Sure, Zara had taught me to come out of my shell—come into and onto things I’d never have considered before too—and I’d eventually embraced it all, reaching that place she’d told me about where having sex was all that mattered sometimes. That reaching orgasm was the order of the moment, nothing else. If I could do it, change and adapt, could Catherine?

I supposed, what with her being eager to try—she hadn’t sounded or looked eager to back up her words, though, more was the pity—we could give it a go. Use this week as I’d planned, get her to try a few things, teach her to enjoy them.

Brute. She’d called me a brute—not in the usual sense, I’ll admit that, more of a joke than anything, but by the time I’d finished I’d ended up one. I’d taken her signs as those of pleasure, but I saw now that perhaps some of them had been from pain, pain of the not-so-good kind.

I still had a lot to learn.

I sighed, strode out from under the trees and headed for the mangled grape vines, thinking a stroll along the gulley between strips of unending foliage would do me some good. After all, I was used to being by myself a lot of the time, so grabbing the chance to have a good think before the week proper started might be the only chance I got.

The sun was still up although not blazing, thank God, and a gentle breeze shifted my hair, cooled my brow. It rustled through the vines, creating a somewhat menacing sound, whispers that added to my discontent instead of soothing it. I took a deep breath, stuck my hands in my pockets, and stared at the ground as I walked. Gave myself a telling off. To stop this nonsense, to just enjoy each moment of this holiday as it came along, and if things didn’t work out and I still felt out of sorts by the end of it, I’d have to take the bull by the horns and do something about it.

About Catherine. About whether we ought to call it a day.

A loud rustle startled me, and I swivelled to look behind me, having to squint a bit to make out what was now ahead. The low sun gave her a bright backdrop, obliterating the villa so she appeared a silhouette, but I knew exactly which
her
she was all right. Who could mistake that flowing black hair, that stance where she stood with hands on hips, one leg positioned to the side and bent at the knee, the other straight out in front of her? Instinctively I scanned the villa windows, expecting to see either Catherine or Ollie gazing out at us, but as far as I could make out, neither of them were there.

I headed towards her, frowning, wishing she hadn’t come out yet elated that she had at the same time. More jumbled emotions poured into me, layering the ones already there and creating such a heavy weight that I had the urge to run, to get away from the lot of them, and never look back.

As I reached her, a shadow cast by the villa afforded me a better view, and I gripped her elbow and steered her off to the isolated trees I’d been standing under before. They were far enough away from the windows for us not to be overheard, and thick enough to obscure us if the other two had a mind to look outside.