The Red Collection (23 page)

What?

A feeling bubbled up. Like she’d drunk several more glasses of champagne, straight down, one after the other. Laughter gurgled up and she just couldn’t keep it in. She simply guffawed.

‘What? You as well?’ she gasped eventually, in between hiccups of laughter. ‘I mean, not Stella Artois or Beyoncé … but the other thing?’

‘I’m afraid so.’ She drew back, looked at him, and saw the ruefulness in his expression. His big shoulders lifted in a shrug. ‘Now who’s a saddo?’

‘You’re not sad. And neither am I,’ Lucy announced. More warmth rushed in, and light, and a feeling of conspiracy and companionship. And more of that other thing. The thing she’d never expected in a million years to feel for Steve. ‘We’re just busy people … who … um … make a logical choice. Sort of …’

She looked at him, suddenly really, really liking his shaggy hair and his solid body. He was disreputable and piratey-looking, but he had beautiful blue eyes, a strong, kind face, and the promise of a truly exceptional physique beneath his tatty, paint-stained work clothes.

It took less than a heartbeat to come to a decision.

‘Look, I haven’t got any Stella … but I do have another bottle of champagne. Would you like some?’

The blue eyes, which were
really
beautiful, flared, hot and interested.

‘Yeah, why not? I can go upmarket.’

Lucy stood up. She glanced quickly at her lingerie, and her sexy wrap, but Steve caught the look.

‘Hey, you look great in what you’ve got on … It’s kind of subtle … makes a man speculate … and fantasise.’ He cast another quick glance at the mag, ‘That bloke, the one you split up with … he’s a bloody idiot letting go of a hot woman like you, I can tell you. Come on, let’s go and get some of that fizz.’

Lucy’s heart thudded as he followed her into the kitchen. She liked the way he’d said ‘you split up with’ rather than ‘dumped you’, and his large presence behind her seemed to vibrate, give her energy. And confidence.

In the kitchen, she pulled the second bottle of champagne from the fridge and it seemed natural and companionable to hand it to Steve, so he could do the man thing and open it while she got the everyday glasses from the cupboard.

With an encouragingly deft hand, he uncorked the bottle and poured it out.

‘So what shall we drink to?’ He handed her a glass, and waited.

Lucy’s heart thumped. She looked him up and down. Bollocks to shitty exes, fantasy figures and elaborate idealised scenarios. This was here and now and real.

‘How about … seduction?’ She caught his eye, then clinked her glass to his, still holding his gaze. ‘The real thing, not the imaginary kind.’

He laughed. He smirked. But she didn’t mind. The rude twinkle in his eye made her laugh back at him, and she loved the way, when he sipped his drink, he went ‘Mmm …’, and smacked his lips, suggesting he had far more in his mind to taste than just champagne.

They drank in silence for a few moments, then Steve took her glass from her. ‘We don’t need this, do we, love?’ He set both their glasses aside with a determined ‘clomp’.

Moving closer, he looked down at her, that naughty glow in his expression even brighter. Lucy swallowed, her heart bashing in her chest, and hot blood careening around her body at a pace a fantasy lover could never have induced.

She was burning up. She wanted Steve. And she was going to get him – and far more than she’d ever get from sad dreams of a man off the telly.

OK, so his jeans and mucky T-shirt weren’t a match for Armani and Hugo Boss. But he had a hot body, gorgeous eyes, and an imagination that was more than a match for hers.

She grabbed him by the T-shirt, hauled him close to her, then slid her hand behind his head and drew his mouth down to hers.

His lips were soft and full of potential. He tasted like champagne, and his shaggy hair was far lusher and silkier to the touch than it looked. For a moment she hesitated, confidence wavering, but then he pushed his warm tongue gently but firmly into her mouth, and began to tease hers with little pokes and darts and strokes.

He didn’t grab her, he just kissed, standing there, letting her control the seduction. But everything about his presence and the stance of his body said he liked it. And wanted more.

Which she gave him, standing on tiptoe, pressing her body against his, feeling his hard cock jut against her belly
through
their clothing. His answer was a sort of eloquent grunt, his breath in her mouth.

But still he didn’t touch her. Infuriating man! But in a good way …

Wrenching open her robe, she tried again, pushing her naked breasts against his chest and her soft bush against the denim of his jeans.

Again, the grunt. Still he teased, making
her
do the running.

Lucy laughed, enjoying the challenge.

‘You’re really making me work for this, aren’t you, you devil!’ she gasped, breaking her mouth away from his.

‘Seduction, babe,’ he purred, his expression warm, teasing but amiable. ‘Gimme some of it.’

‘All right … you asked for it!’

Lucy assessed the situation, quickly and excitedly, her bare nipples tingling, her pussy starting to drip. This was so real, so wonderful, so raw. She didn’t feel as if she could do anything wrong here. Hooking a finger into a little hole in his shabby T-shirt – from a burn or something – she ripped down and hard, and the ancient, over-washed cotton tore like tissue paper.

‘Baby!’ he exclaimed, his eyes surprised but darkening with delight and lust.

Ooh, his body was even better than she’d expected. A match, easily, for any fantasy man’s. He was muscular, not deeply cut but just believably firm and tanned and strong-looking, with rough hair on his chest. Unable to stop herself, she leaned over and kissed his nipple, licking and biting it playfully.

‘Oh, baby …’ he gasped again, his control breaking as he buried his fingers in her hair.

Steve’s skin was salty, a bit foxy, a bit sweaty. His odour was earthy too, but it made her mouth water around his tiny teat. He was all man, and his hips bucked against her.

She wanted more. All she could get. She started pulling at the belt on his jeans and more by main force than dexterity wrenched it open, still lapping and sucking on his nipple.

Belt negotiated, she as good as ripped open his jeans, cooing in her throat on discovering nakedness within. Hot nakedness. Hot, hard nakedness.

Hot, hard nakedness enrobed in silky, velvety skin and slippery with copious sticky fluid.

She had to see it. So with a last nip at his teat, she drew back, broke free of his grip, and looked down at the monster in her hand.

Now
that
is what I call a tool! And much more fun than anything you’ve got in your bag, landlord mine!

His cock was reddened with blood, fierce and hungry-looking. Ready to do the business, ready to fuck her.

Steve groaned as she stroked him lightly, loving the feel of him as much as she loved the sound.

Now this was where dream lovers would always fall short, and what vibrators, dildos and Magic Rabbits would never be able to replicate. Because they didn’t come powered by strong backs, muscular buttocks and powerful thighs.

‘Oh yeah … oh yeah …’ he chanted, folding his big hand around hers and guiding the way she worked and rode him. ‘That’s it … not too hard, I’ll come too soon.’

There was pleasure in just touching him. Joy in handling him and feeling his response, his excitement. Power of her own in tugging him gently forwards and rubbing his tip against her bare belly.

He made sounds now that weren’t words, just growls and deep throaty utterances of rough male appreciation. Slick fluid poured from the tip of his cock, wetting her fingers.

Lucy wondered how long he could last before coming. She wondered whether it might just be fun to make him come, to exert control over him in a real physical way that she’d never be able to do in her fantasies. But just as she was about to experiment, Steve stopped her, moving her hand away.

‘Hey, sweetheart … I’m getting all the good stuff here. We need to see to you too.’

With that he lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it. His wicked tongue shot out and licked up his own pre-come, and when she gasped in surprise, he just waggled his eyebrows and winked at her.

How incredibly horny …

And then his hand was upon her, settling on her belly, curving delicately and in exploration at first, then moving more purposefully. Long, thick, workmanlike fingers parted her pubic hair, then the middle one dived in between her sex lips like a missile homing in on just the spot that craved it.

‘That’s better, isn’t it?’ He began to rock the pad of his fingertip across her clit.

Yes, it was. It was far, far better than solitary, imaginary fantasies with a man she’d never seduce. Oh, masturbation was fine and good, a treat, an indulgence, but not when done in sadness and a yearning for something mutual.

She wrapped her arms around his neck, riding his finger, loving his touch.

It didn’t take long. It didn’t take long for hot, golden pleasure to ball in the pit of her belly and roll and tighten to an intolerable pitch. It didn’t take long for the ball to burst,
in
ineffable pleasure, making her howl and latch on to Steve like a limpet while she shuddered and climaxed.

She slumped against him, still clinging, her labia still divided by his finger, her chest heaving like a sprinter’s.

‘Was that nice?’ His voice was an awestruck whisper.

‘Fabulous,’ she panted. ‘I should get you to come up here and do odd jobs a lot more often.’

He laughed in a low rumble, delicately patting her clit, as if making sure it knew that there was plenty more of what it had just had available. As he touched her, he pressed his cock against the side of her hip. It was like an iron bar, streaming with pre-come all over again.

‘Have you got a condom, love?’

His voice was soft but rough, as if he were trying hard to control himself and only just succeeding.

Oh no!

But … yes. Befuddled by pleasure, she visualised a box with a few in it in the bathroom cabinet. Left over from less lean times, sexually, and tucked away out of sight and mind.

‘There’re some in the bathroom cabinet … I’ll get them.’

She made as if to move, but he held on to her.

‘No need, babe … we’ll go to them!’

With that he slid his arms around her, beneath her robe, and, scooping his hands under her buttocks, lifted her up. Lucy’s thighs parted around him and her arms hooked round his neck, their movements co-ordinated.

Steve laughed and dropped a kiss on her face, then hoisted her more comfortably before striding off in the direction of the bathroom. Still poking out of his flies, his cock bobbed tantalisingly against her bottom as he walked.

When they reached the softly lit room, with its still-
flickering
tea lights, he laid her down like a precious treasure on the thick, fluffy bath mat and stroked her hair. Then he stood up again, located the cabinet, and rummaged for the condoms.

‘Catch!’ he said, tossing the little packet to her, then sat down on the seat of the toilet to pull off his work boots.

Boots first, then socks, then jeans, then tattered T-shirt. All off. Only to reveal a body that was almost the stuff of her fantasies, but somehow more attractive and sexually alluring for
not
being quite perfect.

He was slightly chunkier naked than she imagined her dream guy to be, but she liked his solid, latent power. He was hairier too. The nice pelt on his chest and belly was matched by a rough, dark dusting on his legs. Mmm, primitive … and good.

He was all man. Real man. Horny and honest. His cock seemed to yearn towards her, bold and pointing, craving her pussy. His smile was macho, pleased with himself, but his boyish self-confidence made her smile back at him.

This was all so easy. No striving to be perfect, to make everything perfect and idealised. It was OK to be a bit clumsy, and to giggle.

Which she did when he knelt down, pushing her thighs apart and shuffling in between them. The sight of his cock bouncing and swinging induced mirth, as well as lust.

‘Well, don’t muck about, love queen, stick a condom on me,’ he urged cheerfully, jutting his hips forwards.

Lucy complied happily. She didn’t care about being bossed about, because she knew it was all in fun. He wanted sex, but somehow he also cared. She ripped open a packet and reached for his delightful rod.

It was a fumble, a sticky fumble, with much groaning and
wriggling
and touching and more laughing as they squirmed about into position.

‘Do you want a bit more fingering, love? I mean, I will … but I’m dying to get into you.’

‘You’re a prince, landlord mine,’ she replied, taking hold of his cock and gently dragging it towards its destination. ‘But I think I’ll manage … I’m dying for
you
to get inside me.’

He pushed. She jerked with her hips. He slid in with a mighty thrust, his big organ stretching her.

She wrapped her arms around his torso, and her legs around his hips.

He leaned over and kissed her, his lips gentle in the moment before the action. The words, ‘You feel beautiful, babe,’ followed, exquisitely soft and full of meaning.

They rocked and bucked, they heaved and shoved, his pubic bone knocking hard against her clitoris as his delicious cock slid and pumped inside her.

It didn’t take long until they achieved their goal together, and Lucy flew, her heart soaring on sweet waves of pulsing pleasure, then lifting again as she felt Steve lose it, and pulse inside her.

Later, after using almost all the condoms, and drinking all the champagne, Steve turned the water back on so they could make tea and use it to wash down enormous bacon sandwiches that they scoffed like famished kids. Replete then, they sat in silence, just smiling at each other across the table.

And Lucy realised something as Steve reached across and gave her hand a companionable squeeze.

There was silence from beneath the sink. No dripping leak. Another job well done.