Anne Oliver - The Price of Fame

Smiling, she lowered her lips to his, a slow sultry kiss that soothed and smoothed and seduced. Her hair was a curtain of silk around them and the bluesy pulse of the music beat a lazy syrupy rhythm. He thought of languid afternoons by a pool and hot skin and cold, creamy sunscreen.

He lifted his arms then, fingers spread to mould around her slender shoulders and draw her closer. Her fingers stroked through his hair, then cupped the back of his head. Still watching his eyes. There was a glide of silk as she parted her long, long legs and slid them over his thighs to twine herself around him. She hooked her feet behind the back of the chair, the sultry heat of her feminine core snug against his burning erection.

Still holding his head, she leaned forward and kissed him again, her sparkly bra snagging his T-shirt as she settled closer. A groan erupted from deep in his gut. Her smile was smug as she found the worn jersey’s hem and tugged upwards. Suddenly his T-shirt was gone, flung somewhere over his shoulder.

Her fingers danced over his chest, twirled around his nipples, then slowed to a gliding waltz and headed south, dead centre. To the waistband of his shorts. Hands diving beneath, she rocked once against him, her fingers tightening on their captured prize. ‘Nic …’

‘Okay, now you’re playing dirty.’ He reached behind her, snapped the catch on her bra and peeled it away. Creamy flesh, dark, ripe peaks. Greed hazed his vision but she didn’t give him time to feast, surging forward to rub the hard little nubs against his chest as she watched him.

‘I like playing dirty, don’t you?’ Her laugh was low and sexy as she massaged and squeezed. ‘Fast and dirty even better.’

He tried to laugh too, but it snagged in his throat. His control was fraying, his whole body one throbbing ache. ‘You’re a wicked woman.’

‘Too wicked for you?’

‘Not possible.’ He cupped her damp heat and watched her eyes smoulder, her playful smile fade to serious. Her hands stopped being busy and he grinned. ‘Pay-back time.’ He slid a finger along the edge of her panties and felt her shudder. He slipped beneath to stroke her slick flesh and heard her moan. Arousal heightened, breathing quickened.

Somehow he managed to reach over his shoulder and drag his trousers off the chair, fumbling for his wallet and a condom in the rumpled folds while he thanked the stars his clothes were within reach.

Impatience, desperation and demands and needs. He freed himself, rolled on protection. A quick tug and her panties shredded beneath his fingers. No laughter now, no teasing wordplay. Just pure passion and dark desire and every fantasy he’d ever had. He plunged deep, thrusting up into silky heat and willing delight.

He held her silvery gaze long enough to see that her response matched his own. He gripped her hips, her hands fisted in his hair. They found their rhythm. The world evaporated leaving only speed and greed and heat.

The chair rocked beneath them. He thought he heard the tinkle of a glass as it toppled and rolled but maybe it was the sound of his sanity shattering.

She came on a stunned gasp, her inner muscles clamping around him. He gave himself up to glory and followed.

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