Desk Job (London Menage Book 2) (6 page)

“How long have you lived in your place?” I asked.

“For three years. I bought it when Emma and I split.”

“Oh, I see.” Of course, the ex-wife, Emma.

“We had a home in Kent that we shared together. I signed it over to her and started afresh on the property ladder.”

“Wow, that was generous.”

“It was the least I could do after what I’d put her through.”

I raised my eyebrows. “Were you that bad?”

He kind of chuckled but it held little humor. “I didn’t beat her or have affairs but I was never there for her. I didn’t treat her the way she should have been treated or make her feel special the way a man should make his wife feel special, so yes, I was bad and I’ll always regret that.”

I squeezed his hand. “Sounds like you had a rough time.”

“It wasn’t fun, but it was my own doing. I blew my chances with her and goodness knows, she gave me enough of them.” He drew my hand up to his face and set a kiss on my knuckles. “But I want to do it differently next time I fall in love. I won’t make the same mistakes again.”

Next time he falls in love. A bubble of something scarily like hope grew inside me. Love was a big word, he’d also confessed to what he wanted for his future, and damn the guy was quite a catch. Handsome, kind, successful. I could live with all of that in the short term and the long.

But right now, there were some more basic needs to attend to.

We pulled up beside a high red brick wall that had huge dark green gates set in it.

“Thanks.” Andre handed a few notes over to the driver then opened the door. He climbed out, then held offered his hand once more for me to take.

I stepped out, clutching my throw at my chest and looked up at the tall greenery that went higher than the wall that lined the pavement. “Is this your place?” I asked, nodding at the gates.

“Yes, not the most impressive entrance but it’s secure and private.” He pulled out a key and inserted it into a small Yale lock on the gate.

A smaller gate opened up, enough for a person and not a vehicle.

“Come in,” he said, stepping through and holding it wide.

I did as instructed, my feet sinking in the small stones on the inner driveway. I looked up. “Wow.”

Before me stood a grand Georgian house. It was painted cream, had thick pillars on either side of the black front door, huge bay windows and a balcony leading over the porch. It had a high roof with several sturdy chimney pots and next to me, on the driveway, sat a silver Maserati.

“Do you like it?” he asked, guiding me past the car toward the steps that led to the front door.

“It’s beautiful.” It was my ideal house. It was the type of house I would have drawn as a little girl, the kind I mooned over in estate agent windows and could quite happily live in forever.

“I did some work on it. The inside was stuck in a time warp from last century, and not a particularly stylish decade at that.”

“I can’t wait to see inside.”

He grinned and led the way up the steps. After opening the door and turning off a quietly beeping alarm, he held out his hand. “Shall I take that?”

“Yes, please.” I let the throw slip from my shoulders and watched as he draped it over a mahogany chair set beneath a gold gilded mirror.

“This way to the kitchen,” he said. “Or would you rather sit in the lounge?”

“I want to see your kitchen.” I smiled. “Where the magic happens.”

“Magic doesn’t happen in the kitchen.” He glanced up the stairs then back at me.

Oh fuck. He was so damn sexy and I wanted some of his magic. But I decided not to respond to his flirty comment and keep him guessing as to whether or not I would go upstairs with him.

“What would you like to drink?” he asked, turning and heading through a wide door to his right.

“Gin and tonic, if you have it.” I followed him.

“I certainly do.”

The kitchen was ultra-modern, the units white and a vast amount of sparkling black granite covered the work surfaces. A big island was set in the center and held a tall, sleek tap and a vase of white peonies.

Andre shrugged out of his jacket and laid it on a white leather covered bar stool. “I think I’ll join you in a G and T.” He opened the fridge then the freezer, pulling out a bottle of tonic and a bag of ice. “I’ll get the gin from the drinks cabinet. Back in a minute.”

He left the room and I continued to survey it. The place was beautiful, it could have come straight from an ideal home magazine, but it was lacking somehow. As I surveyed the space, I realized it was because there was nothing personal in it. No magnets on the fridge—I collected them whenever I went on holiday—no pin-board with memos, a calendar, cards from family or friends. There was also nothing to give a clue as to what he liked to eat or drink, the place was tidy to the point of empty.

“Here we go,” Andre said, walking back into the kitchen, his shoes loud on the hard tiled floor.

“Do you cook in here often?” I asked.

“No, can you tell?”

“Yes.” I laughed. “You should see mine, clutter everywhere. Recipes, biscuit jars, and gadgets I’ve forgotten how to use.”

“I’d like to see yours.” He handed me a glass of fizzing gin and tonic.

“Thanks.” I took a sip. “You’d probably think it very messy, and small.”

He looked around. “I think I’d find it adorable and wish mine were more like it.”

“Well, it’s lived in and not just by me.”

“Oh?” He set his drink aside and frowned.

“Lullabelle shares it with me, it’s her home too.”

“And Lullabelle is…?”

“My cat. She’s lazy, attention-seeking and a fussy eater, but totally adorable.”

“Ahh, I should have guessed you were a cat person.”

“What? You think I’m a crazy cat lady, how dare you.” I laughed.

He laughed too then took my drink. He placed it next to his and his face fell serious. “No, I should have guessed that you’d have a pet, you’re caring.”

“I try to be.”

He stroked his fingertips down my bare arm.

A tremble attacked my belly.

“And gorgeous,” he said, watching his own movements. “And so damn soft.” He stroked to my wrist then back up again to the round of my shoulder. “Stella … can I ask you something?”

“Yes?”
Anything, just keep touching me.

“Can I make love to you … tonight … now?”

Chapter Five

I allowed his seductive words to swirl around my mind. Had a man ever asked me to go to bed with him so sweetly? I was already falling for Andre Bramon but right now I was tumbling with all the grace of a boulder hitting a puddle.

Stepping away from him, I slipped my feet from my shoes. The tiles were cold on my soles but it was a nice sensation, so I took several paces before turning to him.

He stared intently at me. His lips were pressed together in a tight line and his chest rose and fell with each breath.

“I think…” I said, reaching for the bow at my nape that held the halter section of my dress up. “That if you don’t make love to me tonight…”

He swept his tongue over his bottom lip leaving a slight sheen there.

“I might…” I paused and tugged the tie. The dress loosened over my breasts as I let the top half fall down.

He tipped his chin, swallowed, and his eye line dropped to my chest.

“I think I might combust, Andre.” As I’d spoken I’d wriggled my hips, encouraging the dress to slip over my hips and pool on the floor around my feet.

I felt naked, vulnerable, standing in his kitchen with barely a scrap on, but equally, the look in his eyes made me feel desired and beautiful, ready for anything.

“Fuck.” He pushed his hand over his hair. “You are one seriously gorgeous woman. Is it legal to be so damn sexy?”

I smiled. “I’m glad you think so.”

“More than think so. You’re every fantasy I’ve ever had come true.” He reached for his tie, tugged at the knot then pulled it free. He tossed it to the island but it didn’t land fully and slithered snake-like to the floor. He ignored it.

He yanked the base of his pale gray shirt from his trousers, quickly undid the buttons then shucked it off. Again, he threw it in the direction of the island, again it missed and ended up on the floor.

Now it was my turn to stare.

Andre had a beautiful wide chest, with small dark nipples and a scribble of chest hair at his sternum. His belly was flat with the hint of a six-pack and a visible angle, between his waist and the top of his pants that looked so damn lickable, my mouth watered.

“Jesus, don’t look at me like that.” He stepped up close and rested his hands on my shoulders.

A quiver of need went through me. “Why not?”

“Because I’m a bit out of practice. Looking at me like you want to lick me might make things happen quicker than planned.” A smile tugged at his mouth.

I giggled. “I’m a bit out of practice too. It’s been a while.”

He raised his eyebrows.

I had no intention of going into further details. “But I do want to lick you, so I’m not sure how I can pretend that I don’t.”

“Maybe I’ll just have to lick you first.” He swept his lips over mine. “Are we doing it here or shall we take this upstairs?”

“Upstairs, I haven’t had the full tour of the house yet.”

“True, you’ve yet to see the room where the magic will happen.” He threaded his fingers with mine. “This way.”

Ah yes, the magic.

I allowed him to tug me from the kitchen and into the hallway. The air was cool on my skin and a heady sensation of anticipation created a tremble in my belly. We went up the stairs, they were wide and carpeted and led to a vast balconied landing. We passed several closed doors then arrived at one that was slightly ajar.

Andre pushed it open and flicked on a wall light, filling the room with a ruby glow.

“Bloody hell,” I said, looking at the enormous bed. It appeared made of black leather and was rounded top and bottom like a sleigh. The bedding was deep purple and a single cabinet sat to the left holding a tall lamp and a clock.

“Do you like it?”

“It’s lovely.” I glanced around, though I didn’t take much in about the rest of the furniture. I was mainly concentrating on the bed, of getting on it, with Andre—getting this show on the road.

I released his hand and walked over to it. Aware of his attention on my ass, I swayed my hips a little more than usual. I bent and smoothed my palm over the bedding, acting as though I was removing a crease.

The next thing I knew he was behind me, his hands on my waist and his groin pressed against my buttocks.

A delicious shiver of desire went through me as I straightened.

“I dreamed of you in my bed last night,” he said, his warm breath washing over my neck.

“Did you now?”

“Mmm.” He wound his arms around my middle, pulling me against him.

His hot chest pressed against my back and shoulders and I rested my arms on his hard forearms. “What did you dream?”

“That you were naked.” He kissed the angle of my neck.

“I could have guessed that.” I smiled. “What else?”

“And smiling, panting, begging me not to stop.”

“You haven’t started yet.”

“I have.” He moved his arm from beneath my hand.

My bra suddenly loosened. He’d undone it.

I allowed it to fall to the floor as the weight of my breasts hung heavy.

He palmed the underside of them, still spreading kisses over my neck and jaw line. His thumbs gently smoothed over my erect nipples.

I let out a murmur of approval. I adored my breasts being caressed and the more gentle the caress, the better it felt.

“You feel awesome,” he whispered.

I didn’t answer. Instead, I tipped my head into the crook of his shoulder and gave up to his delicate explorations and tender tweaks. I’d known men who thought big breasts needed heavy hands but Andre clearly wasn’t that sort, thank goodness.

I sighed as a tug of need traveled to my pussy.

“Baby,” he said quietly. “I need you so bad.”

As he’d spoken, I became aware of the hard wedge of flesh pressing against my ass. He certainly needed something and I was happy to give it.

I spun in his arms and pressed my hands to his cheeks, smiled up at him.

His eyes sparkled as he ran his hands down my back and cupped my buttocks.

“So take me,” I said, then kissed him.

He took control of the kiss instantly. There was more urgency in it than when he’d kissed me before. As though he had no intention of stopping anytime soon.

I fell into it, allowing his tongue to tangle with mine and gripping his shoulders.

He eased me back, onto the bed. The covers were soft and silky on my skin, a little cool too. He didn’t stop kissing me.

He was busy with his hands, smoothing up and down my torso, skimming my waist and the sensitive outer curve of my breast.

I delighted in his weight above me and spread my legs so he could settle between them.

“You’ve got too much on,” I said against his lips.

“Not for long.” He sat back on his heels and released the top button of his pants. He slid the zipper down and pushed the material down his thighs. They were hair coated and he wore gray boxers that strained with the shape of his erection.

He shifted to the side, kicked his pants away entirely, then hooked his fingers beneath the waistband of my thong. “You won’t be needing this.”

“So what are you going to do about it?”

“This.”

I giggled as he quickly dragged my panties down my legs, over my feet, then flung them over his shoulder. They hit the floor in silence.

“We’re leaving a trail of clothes.”

“Yep, anyone breaking in now would know exactly what we were up to.” He smiled as he ran his hand over my thigh and pressed his fingers over my slim strip of pubic hair. “And they’d be damn jealous of me.”

It wasn’t just his words, it was the way he looked at me, touched me, that made me feel so adored. It was something I could easily get used to. I worked hard to be body confident, my curves a part of me, but it was easy to wobble in this fickle world.

“The second I saw you,” he said, “in that sexy tight skirt, I knew you were special.” He slipped his fingers into the first dip of my labia.

My breathing was fast, my breasts rose and fell.

“And then you turned,” he said, “on the way out, showed off those sexy stockings with the seam at the back and I was gone.”

“Gone?”

“Yeah, gone from soft to hard.” He bit his bottom lip and grinned at the same time.

“You’ve been hard since then?” I blew out a breath as he pressed his fingertips over my clit. “Sounds painful.”

“You have no idea.” He tipped forward and kissed my belly, pushing at my right thigh with his free hand.

I spread my legs and looked at the top of his head. His hair was thick, a little mussed too.

God, I hoped he was planning on oral, it had been so long I couldn’t remember…

“Ahh…” I gasped, reaching for the sheet and fisting it. “Yes.”

I shut my eyes and relished the sensation of his tongue sliding over my folds. He was still exerting pressure on my clit with his fingertips and I pressed against it.

He pushed my legs wider, his shoulders butting into my inner thighs.

I rested my hand on his head, curling my fingers into his hair. “Mmm...”

He was good, poking into my entrance with his tongue and now circling my clit, building up the urge to come.

“Andre…” I gasped.

He didn’t respond, instead he switched and flicked my clit with his tongue and pushed his fingers into my pussy.

The filling sensation was exactly what I’d needed and I groaned, thrashing my head from side to side. I hooked my right leg over his back, my heel pressing into his hard torso.

This seemed to encourage him and he upped the pace at which he finger fucked me and increased the pressure on my clit.

I was breathing fast, my stomach was tense and a delicious need for release grew in my pelvis.

I groaned and pushed down onto him.

He caught my G-spot with the hook of his fingers.

“Oh … fuck.” I said, tilting my pelvis for more. “That’s it.”

He reached up and caught my breast in a gentle hold.

I clamped my free hand over his and arched my spine. “Don’t stop.”

It was almost there. My climax about to tumble out of me. The soft sound of his fingers working with my moisture filtered upward, he was going steady and firm, each massaging stroke of my internal hot spot combined with the wicked way he was treating my clit.

“I’m coming.” I tightened my grip on his hair. “Oh … fuck.”

For a few sweeter than sweet seconds, I hung in the balance, knowing that an orgasm was about to consume me, overwhelm me.

Andre stayed with me, pushing it higher, making it more exquisite.

Suddenly it spilled over, washing through my body and tensing every muscle. Electric currents of bliss traveled over my skin, clamped my pussy around his fingers and made my clit a buzz of pleasure.

I curled my toes, yanked his hair and wriggled my hips, I wanted more but at the same time it was too much.

“Oh God…” I moaned, opening my eyes and watching as his nose butted into my pubic hair. “Fuck…”

He lifted his face and studied me. His mouth and chin were shiny and his cheeks red.

“Andre…” I said, panting. “That…”

“That hit the spot?”

“Just a bit.” I pulled at his hair, reached for his upper arm and yanked that too. “Come here.”

He slipped his fingers from my pussy and crawled upward.

I was throbbing and wet for him and pressed myself against his boxers. “I think it’s your turn.”

“I hope so.” He kissed me, feeding me my own flavor. “But hang on.”

He lifted up and twisted to the side, reached for the bedside locker.

The flash of a red condom wrapper caught my eye then he sat back and removed his boxers.

Fuck.

He had one seriously gorgeous cock. Circumcised, dead straight and with one long vein standing proud on the underside. His pubic hair, like his body hair, was light brown though thick and leading up to his navel in a fanned shape.

Rolling the condom down his cock, he appeared tense, his breaths fast and deep.

I couldn’t wait to feel him inside me, be surrounded by him, full of him. Impatient, I sat and kissed the ball of his shoulder, slid my hand around his waist. He was so hot and solid and smelled of pure man.

He caught my mouth in another one of his intense kisses and forced me to lie back.

Again I spread my legs, and this time his cock nudged my damp entrance. I wrapped my legs around the backs of his legs, urged him to push into me.

He did, first an inch then more and more.

I held my breath as he stretched me wide, filling me up.

He broke the kiss and stared down at me.

I kept my lips parted, looked back up at him. At this moment in time, Andre was my world, my everything. He was part of me, he held me, invaded me. It was everything I’d hoped it would be.

“Ah, Jesus, you’re … so tight.” He frowned and entered me to the hilt, his balls pressing up against my ass.