Sarah Morgan - Temporary Mistress

His hands tightened over hers in silent acknowledgement of her acquiescence, then flattened out against her thighs, smoothing slowly up over the front of her dress, her flat stomach, her trembling ribs, to come to rest just beneath her taut breasts.

To her shock he stepped abruptly away and she heard a slither of sound. Stricken with frustrated disappointment, she turned and saw that he had stripped off his jacket and was wrenching his loosened tie from his collar, flicking open the buttons of his shirt with his other hand, revealing a wedge of tawny chest dusted with blue-black hair and a belly that rippled with lean muscle as he twisted to free his shirt-tails from his belt. She could only stand and stare, her temperature shooting sky-high, while he shrugged free of the shirt, his tanned arms bulging with latent strength. If he had seemed formidably masculine to her before, bare-chested he looked like the very essence of male virility.

His expression was a dark mask of lustful intent, the skin drawn tight across his bones emphasising the intimidating harshness of his face. His eyes burned in their deep sockets, the coal-black shadow on his pugnacious jaw making him look uncompromisingly tough, his slashing widow’s peak adding a faintly satanic air to his smouldering regard. He looked primed and ready to take her, body and soul.

Nora took an uncertain step back. His nostrils flared as if he scented her sudden doubt, and then he was reaching for her, gathering her up and driving her back until her legs bumped against the side of the desk. In the same forceful motion his mouth was swooping down on hers, drinking in her shocked gasp as she threw up her hands and they came into contact with the hot skin of his chest, her fingers automatically curling into the soft thicket of dark hair, hanging on for dear life as he deepened his plundering kiss. He tasted of wine—a rich, earthy, complex blend of flavours exploding on her tongue, an intoxicating vintage better than any premier cru. Nora melted into the ravishing assault, her senses reeling, her body swept into a tumultuous current that bore her violently away from the shores of logical thought.

His hands went under her arching back and she suddenly felt her zip parting all the way down to the base of her spine. She wrenched her mouth from his, instinctively grabbing at the loosened dress as it fell away, but her scrabbling fingers tangled with deft masculine hands that had other ideas.

‘It’s all right, this time there’s no one here to see you but me…’ he murmured, pushing the bunched dress down to her slender hips as her oxygen-starved lungs struggled for breath.

He looked down at the sheer stretchy bandeau bra covering her heaving breasts and his mouth tilted up.

‘You don’t really need to wear this at all, do you?’ he said, toying with the lace-trimmed edge of the narrow black band.

She stiffened defensively, arching back against the arm around her waist, but then his finger dipped to delicately trace the outline of a rigid nipple where it had eagerly flattened itself against the transparent mesh. Splinters of painful pleasure prickled through her swollen flesh as he continued in a tone of honeyed admiration, ‘They’re as tantalising as ripe apples, so pretty and round and firm that you don’t need any artificial support…’ His fingers moved to the adjacent peak, chafing it lightly through the thin fabric as his other hand skilfully flicked open the plastic catch at her back. There was no clumsy fumbling, nothing to disrupt the erotic spell he was weaving with his hands and mouth and voice.

‘See,’ he whispered as her bra followed the path of her dress and her creamy tip-tilted breasts swayed and settled high against her slender ribcage. It was all done so smoothly that Nora didn’t have time to feel shy, although her breasts grew rosy under his caressing gaze. ‘Firm and round and speckled with warm little freckles.’ He drew her briefly against his naked chest, rubbing her dusky pink nipples back and forth against his skin, his hands cupping her shoulderblades. ‘Now, let’s see if they taste as sweet as they look and feel…’

He bent his head and sipped at the swollen tips, lapping at her with a delicate greed that made her head swim. She couldn’t believe she had come so far so fast. Instead of the long, slow build-up she was used to, everything was happening with breakneck speed. With a little moan Nora sank her hand into his thick black hair, the silky strands sifting through her fingers as they clenched in convulsive pleasure. The bevelled edge of the desk, lightly padded by the folds of her discarded coat, cut into her bottom and trapped her crumpled dress around her hips as he tipped her back, attempting to rid them of the annoying impediment to greater intimacy. Squirming to help, Nora gasped as her elbow knocked against a neat stack of files, sending them spilling across the desk and floor.

He stifled the apology that automatically rose to her lips with a fiercely impatient kiss, sweeping her off her feet and stepping over the scattered mess to perch her on the padded arm of the nearby sofa, her dress still twisted around her legs. Nora clung to his satin-smooth shoulders, her mouth eagerly responding to his fiery demands, her heart knocking as she felt his left hand touch her knee beneath the folds of her dress. His teeth tugged at her lower lip, his hand sleeking up the inside of her thigh, finding the elastic top of her stocking and exploring the petal-soft skin just above it. Liquid heat exploded in her belly and she tried to clench her legs together to ease the ache he was creating, but his heavy thigh intruded, forcing them further apart.

Nora could feel the tension quivering in his whipcord muscles, the carnal hunger crouching for the kill. His body exuded a musky male scent that drugged her senses, her hands slipping on the sheen of sweat which coated his tawny skin. She dimly realised that she was no longer in control, if she ever had been.

‘Wait—’ she panted, jerking violently as she felt the brush of his fingers against the thin fabric which hid the creamy heart of her desire, almost fainting at the gush of pleasure released by the brief contact.

‘I can’t—’ His prickly jaw rasped across her skin, creating a stinging trail of sweet pain as he ate his way down to her throbbing nipple. He suckled hotly, pushing up his knee until she was astride his leg. ‘I need this too much…and so do you,’ he growled roughly. She felt his arm tighten around her waist, dragging her weight down against his contracting muscles, setting up a friction that turned the delicious pressure between her legs into an electrifying thrill. ‘Come on, baby—ride me,’ he invited hoarsely, rocking her against his powerful thigh until she adopted his urgent rhythm. Her breathing quickened, her fingers digging into his naked chest, her eyes glazing over as her body responded recklessly to his primal urging. He threw his head back, his glittering eyes darkly triumphant as she began to ripple with tiny convulsions.

‘That’s right, baby, ride me all the way home…Let me make it happen for you…’ he coaxed huskily, his knowing fingers finding again that secret sweet spot, tracing the blossoming dampness of her bikini panties in a way that made something inside her ripen and burst. Her world shattered into a million pieces, an exquisite avalanche of pleasure cascading through her, carrying her over the brink of a sweeping precipice and flinging her far out into star-studded space. Suddenly she was in a floating free fall…spiralling into nothingness, and yet there was no fear, just a soaring sense of release, the wondrous freedom of realising that she could fly…!

When her eyes fluttered back into focus the fractured world had re-formed around her, forever changed. She was conscious of the damp bloom of her skin and the small after-shocks which rolled over her as she eased back against Blake’s locked arms and met his hooded gaze. She could feel the coiled tension in his muscles and felt mortified as she realised what had happened.