Cooking up a Storm (9 page)

‘Oh, God,’ said the man, a sound of mingled resignation and excitement. ‘Turn around then. Turn around and lean over the counter.’

Marissa peered through the crack in the door. She could see the man’s back as he pushed the woman over the green marble-topped sink. His shirt-tails hung loose, creased from being tucked inside. His hands moved beneath them and his trousers dropped to his ankles. Marissa’s eyes widened in appreciation. He had nice legs, nice, long hairy legs, and big balls. Their shadowy weight swayed between his thighs. She went over the edge at the sight, biting her lip to silence her orgasmic whimper. She needn’t have worried. The couple were far too engrossed in their own little drama to hear her muffled cry.

Intent on his goal, the man took hold of the woman’s hips and spread her knees with his own. He was much taller than she was. He had to dip low to position himself and, once he did, Marissa couldn’t see much of his partner apart from the hands she reached back to clutch his bottom. She had long red nails, dangerous nails. Marissa shivered as they pressed into the man’s hard, narrow cheeks.

‘Now,’ she said. ‘For God’s sake, now.’

The man bucked forward for a swift, deep entry. His grunt of pleasure was almost lost in the woman’s moan.

‘Hush,’ he said, though he’d already begun to thrust. ‘Someone will hear.’

‘Oh,’ said the woman, clearly transported. ‘Oh, yes. Oh, sweetums, dig it in. Oh, yes.’ Her nails made pale indentations in her partner’s flesh. He grunted again and thrust so forcefully Marissa could hear his balls slap the woman’s buttocks.

She came a second time, inspired by their enthusiasm.

‘Touch me,’ begged the woman. ‘Put your big, strong hand on my pussy.’

He must have complied because she moaned even louder than before. He told her to hush again, but his heart wasn’t in it. He was groaning himself, low and heavy at the end of each thrust. The intervals between his groans were growing shorter. Like a conductor beating time, his belt buckle clinked against the floor, dragged back and forth by the trousers that pooled around his ankles. The woman arched up at him, obviously welcoming his fervour.

‘Oh, honey,’ he said in a tone of such longing regret that Marissa’s heart rose in her throat. ‘Oh, honey.’

She doubted the woman heard the regret or the longing because she climaxed then, the orgasm marked by a high pulsing sigh. The man thrust faster, jackrabbit fast, his breathing harsh, his hands gripping her hips. Sweat rolled down the inside of his thighs. A sound strangled in his throat. His calf muscles tightened. His next thrust was so hard, his partner’s feet left the floor.

‘Now?’ gasped the woman.

But he was too close to answer. His head dropped back and his hips slammed forward, then convulsed in a half dozen quick, deep spasms. Marissa joined him, timing her peak to match the final clenching of his buttocks.

‘You’re a maniac,’ he said as the woman drew his trousers up his legs again.

‘If you knew what was good for you, you’d count your blessings,’ said the woman.

Marissa had to agree. Having a partner so mad to screw she’d risk discovery would have been a pleasant change. She was still contemplating that fantasy as she returned a short while later to her waitressing duties. By now, it had to be time to clear Richard and Francine’s entrée. As a rule, Marissa didn’t like Abby’s older sister. She was rude and bossy and seemed to think being related to the boss absolved her of having to tip. Her mood, however, seemed to have undergone a sea change since the start of the evening. She was smiling and pink-cheeked and behaving as though she’d never complained about a wait in her life.

Her husband Richard looked happy, too. The marine biologist was always so serious. Marissa thought the Woods Hole Institute sounded like a cool place to work. Imagine — getting paid to watch whales! She supposed it was a lot of pressure, trying to protect endangered species and all, but for once he seemed to have forgotten his troubles. While the kids messed about by the fish pond, he was laughing over his wine, and — unless Marissa’s eyesight was failing — he and the missus were playing footsie under the table.

They were acting like newlyweds.

Now that she thought about it, she’d seen a lot of couples acting like newlyweds this week — not counting the two sex fiends who’d surprised her in the loo. Her tips had been fantastic. Soon she’d be able to afford a new bike, and maybe another tattoo. She grinned at the thought. Wouldn’t that make her father flip his lid?

‘Thank you for everything,’ Francine gushed as she cleared the plates. ‘Tonight has been wonderful.’

‘You’re welcome,’ Marissa said, meaning it for once.

Scarcely able to credit the change, she turned at the top of the terrace for one final look. That’s when she noticed Francine’s heels, her pepper-red heels. Her jaw dropped in shock. They couldn’t be the horny couple from the bathroom. They just couldn’t. Francine might have overactive hormones but Richard would never do such a thing — not in a place where he might get caught and embarrass Abby. Besides, what woman in her right mind would call him ‘sweetums’? On the other hand, the jacket that draped the back of his chair was quite rumpled, and there were suspicious sweat stains under the arms of his shirt.

Incredible. Marissa shook her head and turned away. The way people were acting around here, you’d think that Storm guy was slipping something into the food.

*   *   *

Abby emerged from Storm’s bathroom in her panties, with her arms crossed over her breasts. She expected to find him lying on the double bed. He wasn’t, but something else sure as hell was; a foot-long, plastic rod gleamed black against his ivory satin sheets. A head the size of a tennis ball topped one end of the contraption and a long electric cord trailed off the other.

Abby pressed her hand over her belly. She knew what it was, of course. Her sister Francine owned a large collection of vibrators. She insisted on showing Abby each new acquisition, a habit that robbed her of any desire to buy her own. Never in a million years, she thought. But now Storm had laid one in offering across his bed. This must be the surprise he’d mentioned. Was she supposed to demonstrate it for him? Show off her stellar masturbatory technique?

Abby swallowed hard. Never in a million years.

She jumped when Storm’s arms surrounded her from behind. He was naked and warm. He sniffed the skin of her neck and rubbed his hard penis over the small of her back. The touch instantly heated her inside. She leant back into his embrace.

‘You’re staring at that thing like it’s going to bite you,’ he said, his lips to her ear, his forearms banded beneath her breasts. ‘You do know what it’s for, right?’

‘Um, yes,’ was all she managed to say. At least the vibrator didn’t resemble anything. Some of Francine’s toys were shaped like famous porn stars’ penises. One looked like a rabbit. Never in a million years would that hop between her legs.

Storm kissed her ear. ‘Do you want me to put it away, or shall we take it for a test drive?’

‘We?’ She craned her head around.

He pinched the tip of her nose. ‘Yes, “we.” It’s for both of us to play with. Did you think I was going to ask you to perform for me?’

‘Well…’

He turned her to face him. ‘I wouldn’t do that. Although–’ a grin flashed across his face ‘–if you ever wanted to perform, I’d be more than happy to watch.’

She grimaced at the thought, then met his amused blue eyes. She trailed one shy finger down the centre of his chest. ‘Could I use it on you?’

His eyebrows rose. ‘Of course you could. But since you apparently haven’t operated one before, perhaps I should start. Then you’ll know how it feels. First things first, though.’ He tapped her hip. ‘I see you’re a bit overdressed.’

Abby blushed and touched the front of her plain white panties.

He laughed. ‘That’s all right, love. You have no idea what your shyness does to me. It’s better than garlic shrimp frying in butter.’

That good, Abby thought, smiling as he knelt and slid her panties down her legs. As soon as she was bare, he climbed on to the bed and helped her up after him. The satin sheets — his contribution to the decor — felt cool and slippery under her knees. She immediately imagined the two of them rolling around on them.

He lifted the long wand vibrator and turned it on. A low hum filled the room. It wasn’t as loud as she’d feared. ‘Hold out your hand,’ he said.

She held it out and he pressed the head into her palm.

‘Oh,’ she gasped. Tiny hairs stood up on her arms as the vibrations sang through her flesh. He ran the vibrator slowly up the inside of her arm. The effect was extremely pleasant, both relaxing and arousing. He moved it over her thighs, then her belly. He teased the head to the very edge of her labia and her clit jumped in delight at the referred vibrations. Her hips swivelled automatically to reach for more.

‘Not too much,’ he cautioned. ‘I have a full menu planned and I don’t want to numb you out, though it can be a pleasant way to come.’ He meandered up her belly and over the swell of her breasts. ‘Let’s see if you like this.’

She twitched away as soon as he glanced her nipple.

‘Too sensitive?’

She nodded and rubbed the jangling areola.

‘How about this then?’ He leant forwards, nudged her hand aside with his long nose, and surrounded her nipple with his mouth.

Abby sighed with pleasure. She did love being suckled and Storm did it so well. He flicked her with his tongue and pulled with his cheeks, gentle and steady, laving first one beaded tip, then the other. Her hips began to roll and she remembered his promise to enter her tonight. She was looking forward to that. In fact, she wanted him jammed inside her right now. No, she wanted two of him, three of him, Storm shoved into every orifice she possessed. Sucking him, fucking him, completely surrounded by his hard, lean muscle.

She closed her eyes to enjoy the fantasy. Her hands floated to his head and scratched his scalp in time to his suckling. She forgot all about the vibrator until he tucked it beneath his chin. She jerked again, but this time she wasn’t jerking away.

‘Oh, my God, that’s so…’ She gripped his skull to hold him closer. He chuckled against her breast but she didn’t care. The vibrations buzzed through his jaw and out through his tongue, into her nipple and down some hidden nerve that led, so it seemed, straight to the tip of her clit. His tongue seemed to be licking two places at once and when he took her other nipple between his fingers and pinched — oh! — she couldn’t sit still. Her body shook all over. Something was happening to her. Her pussy clenched and unclenched and then clenched harder, sucking on itself, wanting him, wanting that hard driving cock. But his mouth at her breast was so nice. He suckled harder, pinched harder, and, oh, oh, heat pooled between her legs and an ache that was almost like…

She threw back her head and groaned as the orgasm rose in excruciating slow motion, swelling, teasing, until she thought she couldn’t bear another second and then, oh, yes, it washed over the top in sweet, long waves, thick as honey and twice as slow to drain away.

‘Wow,’ she breathed into the afterglow.

Storm switched off the vibrator, set it down and hugged her in the breathy silence. Her head sagged on to his shoulder. ‘I didn’t know I could do that.’

‘Neither did I,’ he chuckled. ‘But I thought it was worth finding out.’ His touch roved her buttocks, a light, restless exploration. She knew he was still hard, still waiting for his own gratification. She trailed her hands down his spine and around his hipbones. She gathered the tight swell of his balls into her hands and squeezed. His hips rolled closer.

‘You can rest if you need to,’ he said, but his voice held a roughness she had come to recognise. He didn’t like to admit it, but he wanted release and he wanted it soon.

The knowledge energised her. Smiling to herself, she released his testicles, scooted back a foot and grabbed the discarded vibrator. She flicked it on and pointed the humming end like a sword. ‘Back!’ she ordered, feinting at his chest in a move she vaguely remembered from college fencing class.

He obeyed, laughing, but she noticed his cock sprang upward another inch, twanging back and forth as if she’d slapped it. She supposed the prospect of being buzzed had set his cock a-wag. It couldn’t be her mock aggression. Storm was always so much in charge; she couldn’t imagine being bossed around would arouse him.

‘Please lie down,’ she said in a milder voice, not wanting to make a fool of herself.

‘Like this?’ he said, meek as a lamb. He lay flat on his back with his arms at his sides.

Abby considered the pose. ‘I think I’d rather you put your arms over your head and grab the rails of the headboard.’

The headboard was an old iron arch she’d found in an antique shop and sprayed with navy enamel. Its bars were as thick and straight as the door to a jail cell. Slowly, almost reluctantly, Storm reached for the rails. As he took hold a quiver ran down his sinewed torso. His nipples stood out in sharp red points.

‘Are you cold?’ she asked.

He shook his head and gripped the rails tighter. His jaw was clenched and his cock, oh, his cock flamed like a summer sunset and wept slippery tears of joy. Abby shivered, her own sex heating with excitement. Something was going on here, something he didn’t want her to know about.

‘Is there something else you’d like me to do?’ she asked, low and careful.

His eyes flicked towards the headboard. ‘Not right now.’

He was lying. She knew it. But did she have the nerve to call him on it? She set down the vibrator and slid her hands up his arms. When she reached his wrists, she cuffed them with her hands and squeezed as tightly as she could. His body heaved beneath her, his cock scalding her thigh, his choked-back moan music to her ears.

‘Fuck me,’ he said, trying to twist his rigid penis into position. ‘Abby, fuck me now.’

But he didn’t release the bars and he didn’t wrench free of her hands.

‘I don’t think so,’ she said, watching his eyes for the slightest sign of anger. Instead, she found panic and, under that, an even stronger longing. ‘I think you’d rather I made you wait.’