Everything to Him (2 page)

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Authors: Elizabeth Coldwell

BOOK: Everything to Him
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Amber warmed the oil in her hands, its exotic scent growing stronger as she did, before briskly smoothing it over the contours of her husband’s back. The areas he needed her to concentrate on were obvious—she knew all too well the little knots of tension that formed in his shoulders and lower down, close to the base of his spine. Even so, she couldn’t help but exclaim in surprise at the tautness in his body.

“Wow, you really have been overdoing things, haven’t you?”

Felix, soothed by the repetitive movements, was almost too relaxed to answer her, as she trailed her hands down his back, her touch firm and sure. He sighed, and when she glanced at his face, she noticed he’d closed his eyes. For an anxious moment, she wondered whether he might actually be in danger of falling asleep on the massage table. That wasn’t the aim of this particular exercise.

Needing a change of approach, she began to work her oily hands up his legs, over his muscular calves and along the smooth insides of his thighs, stopping her caressing motions just at the point where travelling any higher would have meant brushing the soft sac that held his balls. He gave a pleading moan, obviously needing her touch in that sensitive place. With a chuckle, she moved back down to his ankles, before beginning the teasing process all over again.

When she asked him to turn on his front, which he did with some reluctance, a healthy erection was tenting out his towel.

“Now, that’s the reaction I was hoping for…” Amber grinned as she pulled away the towel and ran her fingers lightly along the length of his cock. Wetness flooded her pussy as she took him in her slippery grasp. “Though it’s obvious you still need me to deal with your—stiffness.”

Shrugging out of the robe, she took more oil from the bottle, rubbing it between her palms to warm it. She smoothed it over Felix’s penis and balls, coating the velvet skin and admiring the way the flecks of gold glittered and shone. She worked on his shaft, pulling the foreskin back and forth over its gleaming, slippery head. Every time she sensed he was getting too close to spilling his cum, she would squeeze him until the sensation went away.

Eventually, he begged him to sit astride her, so her round bottom was inches from his face. Amber complied eagerly, wiping the oil from his flesh with a tissue so she could replace her fingers with her warm mouth. Though she couldn’t see his face, the groan he gave as she engulfed him let her know how much he enjoyed the sensation of being lodged in her throat. Responding to her delicious oral caress, he plunged his tongue deep into the musky folds of her pussy. She wriggled against his mouth, and he flicked the point of his tongue over the dark pucker of her anus in response. Her reaction was an excited giggle, then she increased her wet suction on his dick, playing her tongue in remorseless circles over its head and scratching lightly at his balls with her expensively manicured fingernails. She was lost in the feel, the taste of Felix, her mouth bringing him ever closer to the brink, her juicy pussy smearing against his face as he licked her swollen clit.

The pleasure became too much for Amber and she cried out, grinding her cunt hard down on his nose, enveloping him in her wet flesh as she came. He followed her seconds later, spurting his seed in sharp, rhythmic bursts into her mouth and down her chin.

She clambered off him, easing herself to the floor to stand on legs that still trembled. The strength of his response to her massage—and her own—had been unexpected, but she couldn’t help feeling it had been just what her stressed-out husband had needed.

“So,” she said as Felix climbed down from the table and pulled her into an embrace, “what are you going to do about
Glitz!
magazine?”

“You know, you might be right. Maybe it would make people look at me differently. Let them see I’m more like them than they think.” He nuzzled the side of her neck. The scent of ylang ylang lingered on his skin. “I’ll ask Shona to ring them tomorrow and set something up. Now, why don’t we go and see what’s for dinner? I’ve suddenly got a raging appetite.”

Chapter Two

 

 

 

Felix sipped from his glass of forty-year-old single malt, the rare Highland whisky—his favourite drink for settling his nerves—sending a strong, warming sensation to the pit of his stomach. He’d been having second thoughts about agreeing to talk to
Glitz!
, even though the magazine’s editor had been delighted to learn of his change of heart. One of
Glitz!
’s senior writers had been lined up to conduct the interview. Indeed, if his train had arrived at Brookwood Station on time, he should be in a taxi, on his way to the house right now. But if having to give up one afternoon to entertain a complete stranger in his home wasn’t bad enough, next week the magazine was sending along a photographer, along with a makeup artist and stylist. He shuddered at the thought of having to pose among all his possessions so readers of the magazine could either envy him, or criticise his taste in interior design. But Amber thought it was the right thing to do, and, deep down, he trusted her judgement.

A jangle of bells startled him. They’d kept the old-fashioned bell pull when they’d renovated the place, knowing it could be heard even in the farthest reaches of the mansion. Their visitor had arrived. Felix thought about pouring himself another shot of whisky, then decided against it. Uncomfortable as he was with the notion of spilling his innermost thoughts to
Glitz!
, it wouldn’t do to appear anything less than in control.

The drawing room door opened and Amber’s smiling face appeared. “Hey, Felix. Josh is here.”

A man followed Amber into the room, a dark brown satchel slung across his body and a black beanie hat pulled low on his brow. He removed the hat to reveal a shock of nut-brown hair. With his lightly bearded chin, elderly leather jacket and low-slung jeans, he looked to Felix’s eyes more like some laid-back hipster delivery boy than a senior journalist. Hell, this Josh couldn’t be any older than twenty-five—and how senior did that make anyone? Though, he considered, that wasn’t entirely fair, given how young he’d been when he’d started his own rise to success. By the time he was twenty-five, he’d made his first couple of millions.

His second thought was to note Amber’s reaction to their guest. The way she blushed and fiddled with her diamond ear stud when Josh smiled at her reminded him of how she’d behaved on their first meeting. Was he imagining things, or was she attracted to this handsome young guy?

“Hi, I’m Josh Broughton. Really pleased to meet you.” The journalist stuck out a hand. Felix gave it a firm shake.

“So, you had no problems getting here?” Felix said, ushering Josh over to where a large, cream leather sofa and two matching easy chairs were grouped in front of the fireplace.

Josh shook his head. “All very smooth. The taxi driver said it was the first time he’d ever brought anyone out to Brookwood Manor. I kind of got the impression he was hoping for a guided tour.”

“I’ve asked Alison to bring us through some coffee,” Amber said, settling on the sofa and encouraging Josh to take a seat. The hem of her tight-fitting blue skirt had ridden up slightly as she sat, and Felix was sure he’d seen Josh take a surreptitious look at the stretch of creamy thigh that had been revealed in the process. If there was an attraction brewing here, then it was a two-way thing.

They made small talk for a couple of moments, Felix learning that Josh had been working on
Glitz!
for three years, since completing a journalism course in Brighton, and that he’d interviewed any number of reality TV show stars, pop musicians, and even a couple of minor members of European royalty. Then the door opened again and Alison, Felix and Amber’s long-time cook and housekeeper, entered with a tray containing coffee and home-made raspberry muffins.

“Thanks, Alison,” Amber said. She picked one of the muffins off the plate and popped a piece into her mouth. “Mmm, they’re still warm.”

Alison poured each of them a cup of coffee and made to retire from the room. “Call me if you need anything else,” she said.

“I think we’re okay for the time being,” Amber assured her, and Alison closed the door behind her.

“This coffee is really delicious,” Josh commented. “May I ask where you get it?”

“It’s Kopi Luwak,” Felix told him. When he saw no flicker of recognition at the name, he continued, “It’s probably the most expensive coffee in the world, and you know why? It’s because of the way it’s produced. You see, the civet cats of Indonesia eat coffee berries. They love them, but they can’t digest the bean itself. As that bean passes through their system, a lot of the bitterness is removed from it. Then it gets picked out of the cat’s droppings”—Felix could hardly keep the smile off his face at Josh’s horrified expression as he pushed his cup away—“washed thoroughly and roasted. Don’t worry, I had the same reaction as you the first time someone told me how it’s made, but now I wouldn’t drink anything else.” He took a sip from his own cup. “So, should we get on with the interview?”

“Oh, yeah, sure.” Josh recovered his composure, and fished a digital voice recorder and a sheaf of handwritten notes from the depths of his satchel. He pressed a button on the sleek little machine, took a moment to assure himself it was working, then looked at what Felix took to be his list of interview questions. “I just wanted to ask a few general questions first, to fill in the background for our readers, if that’s okay? Felix, I believe the first thing you owned was a record label. Tell me how that came about.”

“Well, it all started when I was at university. I was always more interested in music than in my studies…”

As he answered Josh’s questions, his mind didn’t drift back, as it might otherwise have done, to all the significant milestones along the path of his career. Instead, his gaze flicked from Josh to Amber and back, looking for signs that the erotic frisson he’d sensed between them wasn’t all a product of his imagination. To his surprise, he didn’t feel angry or jealous at the thought that Amber might be attracted to the young journalist. If anything, it turned him on.

“So, Amber,” Josh was saying, “how did you first meet Felix?”

Amber had leant forward in her seat, closer to Josh. The air almost seemed to crackle between them with a tense electricity they had to be aware of, if Felix could sense it from where he sat. “I’d been working for a television shopping channel that closed after a couple of months, but someone at Midas TV must have seen me and liked what I did, because I got a call asking me to audition for Midas Home Shopping. I got the job, and about a week after I started there, Felix paid a visit to the studio…”

Felix could still remember stepping into the small studio, six floors up in one of the skyscrapers that made up the Canary Wharf development, and seeing Amber going through her patter as she artlessly persuaded viewers to ring in and buy a gift basket of body lotions and shower gels. He’d been captivated by the sparkle in her big, green eyes, the tousled mass of her honey-streaked hair and the curves of her breasts and hips, showcased in a clinging black dress. He’d watched for a good ten minutes until the camera had cut to a station identity break, completely forgetting about a meeting he had scheduled with a couple of the Midas TV executives, then he’d walked on to the set and invited Amber to have dinner with him. Clearly flustered at being asked out by the owner of the station, Amber had nonetheless accepted. Dinner in a discreetly curtained-off booth at a Russian restaurant in Chelsea had become dancing at the Circus, the nightclub Felix owned in Piccadilly, had become a marathon sex session at Amber’s flat, the two of them getting to know every inch of the other’s body. Three months later, they’d got married.

Neither of them had slept with anyone else since the day they’d met. And though Felix’s gaze occasionally strayed, as any man’s did, he’d never had the inclination to act on a passing attraction. Nor had Amber, not when their sex life was still as hot and inventive as ever. Not when they could buy whatever took their fancy in the way of toys or equipment to add a little spice, from beautiful ceramic dildos to a horsehair flogger. Felix liked to trail that whip over Amber’s body as she lay fastened to the bed with silken ropes, teasing her with all the possibilities of where he might let it fall against her bare, unprotected flesh. Not when, on those oh, so rare occasions he managed to clear the time in his diary, Felix could arrange to have them both whisked away. Sometimes he took her to their apartment on Manhattan’s Upper West Side, sometimes to their beach house on the paradise island of Clearwater Cay, where they could spend time in seclusion, with nothing to worry about apart from bringing each other to the peak of pleasure over and over again.

In the early days of their relationship, when Amber had still been working for Midas Home Shopping—and this memory never failed to get him hard—Felix had booked the honeymoon suite at Claridge’s. He’d arranged to have rose petals scattered throughout the suite, candles burning and champagne chilling on ice, and he’d fucked her in the bath and on the oversized bed, using his tongue, fingers and cock to make her scream his name out loud as she came.

Now, though, he found himself wondering how his wife would look, what she’d call out if it was Josh sucking her nipples, licking her pussy, sliding his thick young cock into her welcoming depths. He couldn’t say why it excited him so much to picture such a scene, but the very thought was getting him hard, and he shifted in his chair, hoping neither Amber nor Josh had noticed the state he was in. In his overheated mind, the fantasy grew ever more explicit.

 

Amber rose from her seat, and crawled over the low coffee table to reach Josh, the solid, antique oak more than strong enough to bear her weight. The room had fallen silent. Felix wondered idly if the voice recorder could pick up the sound of Amber’s skirt rustling as she moved, or Josh’s startled gasp as she ran a hand up his denim-covered thigh, coming to rest only inches away from his crotch.

She glanced over to Felix for permission. “I’m just longing to suck him,” she said. “May I?”

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