Ashley Lister - A Taste of Passion

‘Call me Bill, for this evening, and I might let you.’

‘Bill,’ she repeated, testing the name on her lips and finding it sat pleasantly there. ‘Bill.’

He placed a finger on her lips and shook his head. ‘It’s Bill for tonight,’ he said. ‘It won’t be Bill on every occasion.’ And then he had his arms around her. One hand held her waist, pulling her closer to him and clutching tight. The other hand rested in the middle of her back. The fingers there crept slowly upwards, tiptoeing up the ridges of her vertebrae on a lazy dance to the nape of her neck. She wanted to melt in his embrace and yield to the animal desire he so effortlessly evoked.

His kiss was all she had hoped it would be.

Their mouths met in an exploration of raw and ravenous passion. His jaw was unshaven, making his kisses scratch lightly against her soft lips and adding a frisson of delightful discomfort with every caress to her face.

Trudy could feel her nipples hardening, as though they were straining to get close to him. Because their bodies were shielded by the barriers of his shirt and jacket, and her apron, blouse and bra, it felt as though there were too many layers between them.

She began to pull his buttons open, exposing his muscular chest and its coating of curled grey and white hairs. When she moved her mouth away from his, then pressed her kisses against his chest, her arousal grew even more profound.

‘I want you,’ he grunted.

‘I’m yours.’

She didn’t know where the admission had come from. But she was sure that she meant the words. She had never needed anyone more than she currently needed William Hart. The longing for him heated between her thighs like a beacon of sultry, broiling need. Her heartbeat raced at such a panicked speed she felt lightheaded with the swell of desire.

They staggered through to the adjacent head chef’s office, neither seeming willing or able to break the embrace, each battling to keep hold of the other as they struggled to find somewhere convenient so they could develop their intimacy.

Trudy didn’t take any time to study the room.

She realised Bill was guiding her towards a leather settee that stretched along one wall. She figured that would be a sufficiently comfortable spot for what she hoped they could do together. But, beyond that idea, her thoughts hadn’t progressed any further than the simple animal desire to be intimate with him.

She longed to have Bill’s naked body pressed against her own.

The wetness between her thighs was sudden and excessive. Her body felt so hypersensitive she was acutely aware of the rasp of the cotton crotch of her panties drawing against the moistened centre of her sex.

The music blared more loudly in his office.

Ella had stopped singing but the music remained light jazz: a smooth combination of piano, bass and sax. The sounds were pleasant and undemanding. They were familiar and yet somehow nameless. The music was slightly discordant and yet somehow perfect. She could feel the pulse of her arousal beating in time to the bass’s swelling rhythm. She could feel the urgency of her need quickening with the music’s accelerating tempo.

She broke their tight embrace to allow him to unfasten the apron and pull it over her head. Then she was trying to push herself back against him so she could again savour his kisses and explore his mouth with her tongue.

He eased her onto the settee.

She had expected to find herself laid across the sumptuous cushions with her back on the seat and Hart above her. Instead she was sitting down and he was kneeling on the floor between her spread thighs. He had managed to unfasten a handful of buttons on her blouse and his fingers had ingratiated themselves into the cups of her bra.

The sensation of his firm hands, sliding easily and confidently against her stiff nipples, was almost too much. She felt dizzy from the electric thrill of his caresses teasing at her breasts and pushing her closer and closer to a point of sensational, sexual climax.

Her breathing deepened.

Her heartbeat quickened.

She moved her legs a little further apart for him.

The pressure of his erection seemed larger than before. When she traced it with her fingers, clutching hungrily at his groin as she tried to discover more about him, her longing grew unbearable.

The tips of her fingers found the zipper of his pants. As she continued to steal kisses from his lips, Trudy tugged the zipper downwards. It took a moment of fumbling but, finally, she released his erection.

‘Ms McLaughlin!’

She caught her breath, shocked by how exciting it was to hear him call her Ms McLaughlin whilst they were engaged in such an intimate act.

‘Was that really what you wanted to do?’ Bill asked.

‘Hell, yes.’

They chuckled together as her fingers explored his shape. He was long and hard and hot in her palm. The pulse contained within his length throbbed with a determination that matched her own avaricious desire.

Trudy drew a faltering breath and silently begged him to satisfy her. She stroked her fingers lightly and lazily along his exposed length. The shaft undulated in response.

His hand had crept up the inside of her panties.

With one artful caress he stroked her sex’s centre. Absently, as though he was a master of such subtle movements, Bill teased the crotch to one side and slipped his middle finger against the hot folds of her lips. The sensation of his bare flesh touching her most intimate parts was enough to heighten and exacerbate her need.

She groaned.

His other fingers, so close to her centre, teased through the light down of hairs that coated her sex. She could feel the whisper of his knuckles brushing against the curls and teasing the follicles. Every suggestion of sensation seemed somehow amplified and more intense than anything she had ever previously experienced.

The one finger that rested at the lips of her sex pressed forward.

Trudy moaned.

The folds parted for him, giving up the secret of her sex in a flush of greedy, moist arousal. When he dared to press the finger more firmly against her, and then push it inside, she almost screamed with the rush of satisfaction that threatened to erupt.

She pulled him close to her face and devoured his mouth.

He returned the kiss, the intimacy clearly made difficult because of his broad smile and the awkwardness of their posture.

She had been holding his erection, savouring the sensation of his length sitting in her palm. With the thrill of his finger sliding into her sex she had lost her hold on him. Hurriedly, almost panicked, she fumbled between their bodies and found the thrust of his hardness. He still had a finger inside her, its gentle movement pushing her close to unexpected heights of elation.

But she wanted more.

Much more.

Without allowing herself to think about the consequences, only certain that she needed him, Trudy pulled him towards herself.

He placed a hand between them.

‘Let’s be safe about this, shall we?’

The finger that had been filling her sex was suddenly pulled away. It left an aching emptiness that she needed him to fill. She didn’t understand why he had stopped or what he meant by ‘safe’ until she saw him produce a condom. She nodded consent as he slipped the sheath from the pack and then unrolled it over his hardness. A moment later he was pressing the firm end of his erection back against the sopping lips of her sex.

She could not recall ever being so desperate to have someone inside her.

‘Are you sure?’ he whispered. Even lowered, his voice was textured with authority. The gritty timbre of his northern accent was a thrill against her ear. ‘Are you sure you want this?’

Trudy could not recall being more sure of anything. Ever.