The Accidental Bride (11 page)

John laughed too, his voice husky against the back of her neck as he swept aside her hair to kiss skin. ‘We must check our organisers tomorrow. So I can make an appointment to have your beautiful arse soon.’

‘Don’t mock. You know what I mean.’

‘I do, my sweet darling, and you’re right.’ He nuzzled her shoulder as he rubbed his erection along the cleft of her bottom, ‘Now, stay right where you are while I fish in the drawer for a condom.’

‘No need. I slipped a couple under the pillow. Just in case.’ Well, if he hadn’t been able to sleep, they had to have something else to do.

‘Naughty girl. Were you counting on my not being able to sleep?’

How easily he read her.

‘Just thinking ahead to the possibility.’

As John slid a hand beneath the pillow for a condom, Lizzie hitched and hutched and shimmied and wiggled to get out of her pyjama bottoms. The sheets were tangled around them, though, and while she was still struggling, one leg in and one leg out, the solid presence of John’s cock butting against the underside of her bottom told her unequivocally that he was ready.

‘Leave it,’ he commanded as she grappled with her pyjamas. ‘I can get to you quite nicely.’ He grabbed her hip, pressing her against him, his cock probing. The latex-clad head jostled her labia, and as she tilted her pelvis, he found her entrance. She felt him reach down to position himself better. ‘Lift your leg, baby … Let me in …’

Breathing heavily, she adjusted her position. The angle was better then, and John began to push. Lizzie relaxed, opening herself to his cock, welcoming him in as he gripped her by the hip again to ease the way.

In, in, in … Ah yes, home!

Now it was John’s turn to shimmy and work with his hips, swirling for maximum penetration.

‘Good girl … Good girl … Oh God, that’s good,’ he murmured, holding her round the waist so he could control both their positions and fit them together even closer. ‘Mm … now, doesn’t that feel nice? I’m right in you now.’

Nice? Nice? It was heavenly. He was deep, pressing on all sorts of sneaky little nerve endings as he imposed his shape on hers, creating a snug space for himself inside her body. And it became even nicer when, satisfied with his depth, he reached around her belly and cupped her sex from the front. One long, clever finger wiggled its way through her bush, probed between her sex lips and settled squarely on her clit.

‘Oh … oh God,’ she cried at the sharp-sweet quality of the pleasure. Captivated by their joshing and by-play, she hadn’t realised quite how aroused and agonisingly needy she’d become. One touch of John’s finger at her centre and she was right back on the precipice of coming again.

‘It is nice, isn’t it?’ The finger circled, but not too far, staying on point.

Lizzie made a strangled sound, starting to thrash and work herself. Just a little more, a little more …

‘Answer me. Tell me if that’s good.’ His voice was dark, deep, thrillingly husky. In this most vanilla of positions he was still her all-powerful dominant.

‘Yes … Yes … It’s good. It’s so good.’ She moaned, long and brokenly, when the pressure on her clit suddenly increased, the rub firmer, the pattern of circling more complicated. ‘Oh! Oh hell … John!’

She came, her body clenching and gripping him, her clitoris leaping in a pulsing dance beneath his fingertip. Arching and rocking, she rode the pleasure while John’s grip was unyielding, his free hand sliding between her hip and the mattress, holding her in place, keeping her steady.

‘Stay still, beautiful girl.’

It was impossible. She was still coming, her body filled with wild energy. She tried, though, half failing, half obeying, shrieking when he assaulted her clit anew with clever, wicked and loving manipulation.

Tears of bliss dripped from her eyes, running sideways onto the pillow. She clasped one hand between her legs, over his, and with the other grabbed at his thigh, holding on tight, fingers digging into the firm, flexing muscles.

Holding her, he pushed in further, seeming to reach places that were impossible, almost part of her soul.

The crisis went on, everything dynamic. Lizzie laughed through the pleasure, mocking everything she’d read, and perceived, about spoons being a gentle and passive position. This was as wild, somehow, as anything they’d done, and yet in reality they were hardly moving. The tiniest action, and reaction, was enormous in sensation.

‘Yes! Yes!’ John shoved harder. Lizzie seemed to float, her sex and belly golden with exquisite sensation while in her mind, coloured lights seemed to drift up and up, like slow motion fireworks.

‘Yes … Yes …’ she sighed, smiling, and almost dreaming as she felt him pulse inside her, deep to the hilt at the very limit of his in-stroke.

For a while, afterwards, they lay together still joined, almost breathing in unison. Normality returned, though, as it always did. Lovely … but real.

‘I’m lying on your arm, aren’t I? Has it gone dead?’ Lizzie shifted position, feeling John withdraw, his cock sliding out of her body as he wiggled his arm from under her. She shuffled away a little way, her pyjama bottoms still caught around one leg.

‘Just a bit.’ He sat up, giving the limb in question a little shake. ‘Don’t worry; it’s waking up again now.’ He flexed his fingers. ‘See, no harm done.’

Lizzie reached for his hand, drew it to her lips, and kissed it, nibbling the fingertips. ‘Yep, seems OK to me.’

Sleepily – well Lizzie, at least – they sorted themselves out again, and lay back down again, side by side. She studied her lover in the darkness. He seemed calm and relaxed, but she had a strong feeling he might not sleep again. Even though she was fighting to keep her eyes open, and already half drifting off, replete, sated.

‘Sleep, sweetheart … Don’t worry about me.’

His voice sounded so soft and fond. The words wound around her like a protective cocoon, guarding her from all worries and fears. There was plenty they had to face together, and it might not all be easily dealt with. But they were together. That was what mattered.

They were together.

John was gone when Lizzie woke up again.

Sitting up sharply, she glanced around the room, then chided herself.

Don’t be an idiot; he won’t be hiding behind the chair or in the wardrobe. He’ll have gone to his own room, long since. You’re alone.

Expecting a pang of disappointment, she was surprised. Yes, it would have been super romantic and like a movie to wake up in bed beside him, but she had nothing to feel neglected over. He’d made a real effort to sleep with her last night, and they had even managed to doze together for a while. This wasn’t something they could set to rights in one night, and it might be a long time before they achieved it, if they ever did.

But they’d made progress, and John’s delicious lovemaking in the night had more than offset any childish whim of hers for everything to be perfect, utterly perfect, all at once.

Fishing beneath the pillow, she located a couple more of the condoms she’d tucked away there, and popped them
back in the drawer. Goodness, how many performances had she been expecting? John had the sexual vigour and recuperative powers of a man half his age, but even he was only human, after all.

A soft rap at the door made her grab for her light robe, draped across the bottom of the bed.

‘Come in,’ she called out, not sure whether it would be John or Mrs Thursgood, or even Mary or one of the other day girls. A quick glance at the clock said it was probably early for the latter, though.

Mrs Thursgood entered with a tray.

‘Good morning, Miss Aitchison. Looks like a lovely day today.’ She strode over with the tray, then flipped down its little legs and set it on the bed.

Ah, tea. Lovely. And a couple of newspapers,
The Times
and the local weekly rag, as well as a lovely rosebud in a little crystal vase.

‘Wow, thanks. This is great!’ Before Lizzie could reach for the teapot, Mrs Thursgood was preparing her a cup, just how she liked it. She’d been well briefed by John. ‘Thanks for the rosebud. It’s very pretty.’

‘Oh, that was Mr Smith. He picked it himself for your tray. He’s in his office, working already, the silly man.’ Mrs T tut-tutted. ‘But he says, when you’re ready for breakfast, he’ll either join you in the little dining room or up here, whichever you prefer.’

Lizzie took a sip of tea. Perfect! ‘Oh, dining room, I think, if it’s no extra trouble to you. Just some cereal and toast for me, as usual, please. Um … thanks.’

It was still getting some taking used to, this having staff around the place, doing things for her. But luckily the Thursgoods weren’t stand-on-ceremony types and they
were so nice and discreet that it was gradually becoming more natural to have them around.

A short while later, Lizzie wandered into the small dining room, a casual little breakfast space adjacent to the kitchen. It had old-style French doors that opened on to the garden, and it wasn’t nearly as posh and intimidating as the formal dining room, where Lizzie presumed that at some unknown, dreaded date in the future they would entertain.

John rose to his feet as she entered, his golden smile lighting up the room.

‘Sleep well, love?’ He pulled out her chair for her.

‘Yes … eventually. But more to the point, did you sleep again?’

‘A bit, yes.’ He squeezed her shoulder and bent down to kiss her cheek. Just like a proper, long-standing couple, she thought. ‘Thanks to you,’ he whispered in her ear, his voice lowered and more intimate in case Mrs Thursgood were to appear any second with coffee and toast.

Soon they were eating and chatting. Comparing notes on articles in the newspapers, mapping out tasks they needed to fulfil now they were home.

‘I’m planning to go into JS North for a few hours,’ said John. ‘Will you be all right on your own?’

Ah, typical man. Assuming that not only the whole world, but specifically that of his woman, revolved around him. Lizzie hid a grin. His confidence and self-assurance were so masculine, and even though he was the most special man in the world to her, he could be a cliché just like any other male.

‘Oh, don’t worry about me. I thought I might call in and see Marie for an hour or two, and go over what’s occurred in my absence. Including the obvious, of course.’ She gave
him an old-fashioned look, referencing his hand in securing the new premises. ‘Then perhaps I’ll swing by St Patrick’s Road and touch base with Shelley and Brent, if they’re around. Maybe have a bit of lunch with them, unless you’ve got plans?’

Agh, we are just like a married couple.

‘Sounds like a good idea, sweetheart. I don’t want you to lose touch with your friends.’ He smiled, but there was seriousness in his eyes. ‘I don’t want you to miss anything in your life that you’re used to. I want us living together to, well, add more to your life, not take things away.’ His little shrug was so boyish, so adorable that she suddenly wanted to leap over the table and ravish him. He looked as edible as the home-made muesli and the country loaf toast they were enjoying, in his navy blue T-shirt and well-worn jeans that fit like the proverbial glove.

‘I know, and I thank you for that, John,’ she answered with her own seriousness, while trying to squish her ever-present lust for him.

The way his eyes twinkled seemed to suggest he was dealing with the same kind of problems.

‘And at least now I can tootle about all over the borough in my swish new Audi!’

‘Indeed!’ John grinned, reaching for his coffee cup. ‘But take the thing for a spin up and down the drive a bit, first, to get the feel of it. When was the last time you actually drove?’

He was right. She hadn’t been behind the wheel in a while.

‘I shared the driving with Brent and Shelley last year, when we all went to a friend’s wedding in Scotland. Brent does have a car, but it’s a bit of an old banger, and we’ve
tended to use public transport most of the time lately. Running expenses and all that.’ She grinned at him. ‘Mind you, now that Brent and Shelley have got such a bountiful new landlord, he can probably afford to put it back on the road.’

‘This landlord of theirs must be a true humanitarian. A blessing to society,’ said John airily before sipping his coffee in all innocence. ‘But I meant what I said, about the test drive. I know I’m an old worrier, but I’d feel much happier if you try out the vehicle first.’

‘Right you are, boss,’ said Lizzie, winking at him.

A while later, after they’d zipped up and down the drive a couple of times, and taken a spin along the lane, around the nearest roundabout and back to Dalethwaite again, John seemed satisfied with Lizzie’s road-craft. In fact, quite impressed.

‘Is there anything you don’t excel at, Miss Aitchison?’ he remarked fondly, unclipping his seatbelt, beside her.

‘Not a lot!’ Lizzie grinned, feeling pleased with herself. The S3 was a dream to drive. It handled beautifully, was perfectly responsive, and was a miracle of ergonomic driving design. She hadn’t actually driven all that many different vehicles, but it made Brent’s old Vauxhall seem like a right old rattletrap, and her father’s own, older Audi positively antediluvian.

‘Even so, take care, love. And check in with me from time to time, eh?’ John leant across and laid his fingers against the side of her face. ‘It’s not that I want to lay down the law to you or keep you wrapped in cotton wool or anything. It’s just that you’re incredibly precious to me, Lizzie. I couldn’t bear it if anything were to happen to you.’

Lizzie gulped, then bobbed forward and took a kiss from
his lips, a long, intent kiss. He was real and warm and alive beside her, and yet, even now, sometimes he seemed like a dream. Especially at moments like these.

‘I will, John. I’ll take care and I’ll drop you a text or two.’

His eyes blazed, and cupping her face, he kissed her back with an almost desperate ferocity. Trapped by her seatbelt, his mouth and his hand, Lizzie shuddered with pleasure, parting her lips to admit his bold tongue.

‘Jesus, woman, now I’ve got a hard-on again!’ cried John, laughing as they broke apart. ‘I’ll have to do a swift bit of biofeedback to get myself back in order again. Either that or make a dive for the downstairs cloakroom and take myself in hand. You really are the most arousing creature, you minx. I swear you gave me tongue then just to get me stiff.’