Gemini Heat (17 page)

'I want you to fuck me.'

It was as if she'd escaped reason and was functioning purely on sex. An eye's-blink after she'd said the words, she still couldn't believe them. She was Delia Ferraro, super-cool and circumspect; she rarely swore, and until now had hated crudeness. In spite of everything that had happened, she blushed.

'Wonderful,' he murmured, his cock rising hypnotically as he spoke, stiffening and straightening between the pressed-back spread of his thighs. 'You're beautiful, Dee. So pink. So warm.' He touched his fingers to his hardness, rubbing himself slowly, making its tiny love-eye open and weep. 'You want this then, do you?' He squeezed the crown of his sex and a jewel of clear fluid popped out.

'Yes.'

Why deny it? It was true. And there was no way to keep it from him anyway. 'And
how
do you want it?' His eyes closed briefly, as if his own hand was infinitely delightful to him. He stirred slightly, adjusting his elegant eastern pose, and the drop of pre-ejaculate shimmered. Delia would've given anything for the confidence just to lean over and take it from the tip of his cock with her tongue.

'Go on,' he coaxed, jiggling himself so the droplet quivered precariously.

'I . . .' It looked so tempting, so tantalising. What would it taste like?

'Do it, and I'll love you in any way you choose. Any way at all. Even if it means—' He shrugged. 'Well, even if it means I don't come myself.'

What kind of infernal game was this? Surely one single lick of his cock wasn't enough for him? It was only a few millilitres of moisture . . .

She hesitated, then just as Jake's hand reached towards her, she inclined herself down towards his penis. As her lips touched him, she felt his fingers settle on the side of her head, riffle quickly through her unbound hair, then delicately caress her cheek.

His flavour was strangely bland. There was a trace of saltiness, but not much more. Even so she relished him, and lapped greedily at the tiny winking hole. When she'd cleaned him of that first fat droplet, she curled her tongue around his sensitive cock-head, then flicked boldly at the vee-ed groove beneath.

'You angel,' he gasped, his fingers sliding through her hair to control her, his touch still gentle and light. 'You clever, clever angel . . .'

Even as he spoke, she felt more slipperiness in her mouth, and tasted more salt. She wondered if he would come then, lose his grip, become over-excited and ejaculate. The thought of that excited
her.
Set her own juices flowing. She hollowed her cheeks and sucked, determined to best him.

'Oh no you don't, you minx!'

He laughed, as if to let her know he'd rumbled her intention. Sliding in his thumb beneath his own stiff flesh, he pressed down on her lip and forced her to release him.

The temptation to bite his thumb was nearly as strong as the craving to lick his cock had been, but this time Delia refrained, reaching up to prise his hand from her face.

'Why not?'

'Because I want to make love to you, Dee. Do something plain and simple with no tricks. We could even try the "missionary", if you like?' His grin was wicked and sparkling. She'd have done anything for it, and for him.

Even so, she sensed he was still playing with her. For a man like Jake, the 'missionary' position could well be a novelty. Should she indulge him? she wondered. Or be contrary, just for the sake of it?

But in the end, old habits died hard . . .

'I'd like that,' she said, looking up at him, 'And at least this time, I'll see your face while we're . . . we're together.'

As he swept his thick hair back from his face, he frowned. Delia felt a cold rush of panic, and ran furiously through recent memories. Specifically her sister's.

Deana had sat astride Jake in his limousine, and Deana was no shrinking violet. She'd always said she liked to 'look' . . .

'I . . .' Delia hesitated, then took a chance, 'It was dark in the car, Jake,' she said, 'and in the gallery you were behind me,' His eyes narrowed. 'And when we were in your office . . . Well, I was in shock at finding out who you were. I was "out of it" most of the time.'

He gave her a thin studying smile, then leaned over and touched his mouth against hers.

'True,' he murmured, 'all true. So this time we'd better make up for it. I'll keep my eyes wide open. But only if you do. Deal?'

She nodded. She'd no idea if she could comply though. It was hard to meet his eyes already. They were cool sapphire stars in a hot red night, brilliant with sex. When he came they'd probably blind her. 'In that case, sweet Dee—' He was uncoiling himself. 'Let's make love.'

Jake was a strong, fit man who concealed his physical power. Before Delia properly knew how he'd done it, she was on her back and stretched out. He wasn't on top of her yet, but his thigh was across her belly, holding her down. On his side, beside her, he slid a cradling arm beneath her and held the other one poised and ready. He was choosing his first target, she sensed, and his cock was like a steel prod against her.

She had a great sense of being his toy again. Of waiting for her buttons to be pushed . . . And this time, she liked it. Jake seemed to deliberate for a long long time, holding her tight and quivering with need, while he made his choice from her body. How could he do this? she wondered. How could any man as ready as he was be so precise and so surgically cool?

Would he touch her breast or her belly first? The skin in each place seemed to tighten and sensitise in readiness. Her thigh, perhaps? Her nipples? Her navel? Would he touch her first on her sex? Push his finger straight into her channel?

In the end it was her face.

'You're not scared of me, are you?' he asked, brushing aside a few strands of her hair.

She was scared. Scared of the game being revealed. Scared of his anger. And yes, scared of just
him.

But those were wimpish fears and she could handle them. What really frightened her was herself. Herself and the way Jake would change her. The way he'd already changed her. In the few days she'd known him she'd done some unthinkable things, and he was bound to push her still further . . .

'No!' she lied bravely, summoning the family guts and boldness. Deana's fighting spirit. Mirroring Jake's own action, she reached up to touch his face, then shivered as she smelt his scent. The blended male odours of cologne and sweat and semen.

Suddenly, touching wasn't enough. She slid her fingers round the back of his neck, then dug them into his thick, straight hair as she pulled down his face for a kiss.

He met her strongly, but yieldingly too. His lips were firm and cool, and they opened when she pressed in her tongue. She felt empowered and dizzy as if his mouth were filled with a drug.

His body tilted as they kissed, moving over hers, and his free hand slid down towards her breast. He cupped her quite naturally and easily, his fingers curving inwards around her. With his thumb centred firmly on her nipple, he pressed in, then flicked to and fro. He was gentle but forceful, and for a second she was reminded of Peter. It was the same kind of cautious hunger . . . But when she opened her eyes and looked into Jake's dark blue ones - as she'd promised - she knew there was no real comparison.

Peter was a nice man who genuinely cared for her. Jake was an unprincipled sexual predator. Glorious, but ready to play out any role or ruse in pursuit of what he wanted from a woman. And the worst of it was, even though she understood his self-serving nature, she couldn't combat it.

Jake's slow, light handling of her breast produced a predictable reflex reaction. Her pelvis rose beneath his restraining thigh, and fresh juice ran from her sex. She wanted him to press his thigh in between her legs, but he held his position. Not quite touching her pubis.

She felt like screaming with frustration. Her vulva was aching for strong hard action. She wanted his cock inside her. Opening her body, forcing it wide, and laying waste to her hot wet vagina. She wanted him to take her and screw her without mercy or pause.

But he was playing with her again, suppressing his own power to break her.

I won't beg, thought Delia grimly, gritting her teeth. I want him. I need him. I'd dying for him. But I won't whine like a bitch for his cock.

Her body thought otherwise, though, and as her pelvis rose hungrily against him, he pulled himself up and away.

'Stop teasing me, you bastard! Get on with it!' she hissed. She was angry, furiously angry - a hot rage that boiled in her sex and ate at her body like acid . . . She could almost feel it sizzling.

'With pleasure,' he whispered, eyes bright blue as he manoeuvred his body to comply. Taking his weight on his elbows in the classic manner, he moved himself across her, and his prick bobbed insistently at her thighs. She could feel its blind clubbed head pushing gently, and she drew up her knees to receive him;

angling her body so he slipped in like silk between her labia. His glans seemed to skate around her sticky-wet folds for a moment, then lodge fairly and squarely at her entrance.

Delia bucked up fiercely, trying to work him deeper, but Jake held steady. His cock-tip was only just inside her, nudging at her warm, tight snugness.

'Hold still! Don't be so impatient . . . There's plenty of time.'

Enraged, she redoubled her efforts, grabbing and mangling at his bottom just as she'd already grabbed at Elf's. Delaying penetration was hard work for him, and she knew it. His thighs and buttocks were twitching with effort and she considered stroking his anus to force the issue.

But even as the thought crossed her mind, he started powering downwards and inwards.

'Slowly, slowly, slowly,' he cooed, still holding her gaze. Millimetre by millimetre he eased his gorged flesh inside her, stretching the natural resiliance of her portal and triggering a whole new bundle of nerve-ends which had always been passed by too quickly.

The sensations made her heart race. She was being held open by the bulk of his penis, her vagina tickled and titillated in a way that was fabulous and for her, unprecedented. Above her face, Jake's eyes were like navigational beacons; steering her flesh towards the secrets of knowledge.

As he pushed in a tiny bit further, and his cock-head was trapped by her muscles, Delia spasmed around him - and at the same time felt a cool plume of fear.

What if this was a test? A measurement of some kind? It had never occurred to her before, it had never mattered, but what if she and Deana weren't actually the same down there?

Panic made her hotter than ever, and sweaty. What if she was tighter than Deana? Or looser? And their folds might be differently arranged . . . She could be coarser, wetter, slicker, more or less clinging. The variables were infinite.

The moment seemed infinite too. She waited for a query. For angry words and withdrawal. She waited for Jake to say, 'I know . . .'

But there was nothing.

Instead, he sighed heavily, then put his lips to hers. His tongue plunged into her waiting mouth at the very instant his cock took her sex.

The sense of possession was so complete it almost denied her of breath. He was in, deep in, and quite still. In stasis. It was as if he were imprinting himself on his territory, matching their codes, marking her forever as his.

Movement, when it did come, was a shock. Jake's lunges were long and smooth - and on each out-stroke he held himself above her and looked straight down into her eyes, his cock-head throbbing tensely just inside her.

He didn't speak or cry out or even grunt, but his whole body said 'This is me. What you wanted. Watch my eyes.'

Delia was gone now, lost in it, only a fragment of her mind still working. She had no conscious thoughts, only prayers that his eyes wouldn't change. And start asking, 'Which one are you?'

But it was hard to remember who he was now. She could only think of him as flesh. Living bulk inside her. A huge male presence in her body. She felt stretched around him, battered by his hardness, her delicate interior fluttering and melting as her perceptions of space-time distorted. She could
hear
her own orgasm, see her collapsing waves of pleasure as fluttering silvery ghosts. She could taste light, and watch her own scream of ecstasy as it came barrelling towards her and smashed in through the membrane of reality.

The last thing she registered was warm, hot redness. Then blue in the redness. Jake's eyes as he thrust into her. . .

Chapter Eight

Samurai Dreams

Z
t was the first time Deana had ever truly envied her

sister, and she didn't like the feeling.

Throwing off the single sheet from her naked, perspiring body, she gave up on sleep, slid her legs out of bed and stood up. Whether getting up would make things any better was debatable, but she'd always preferred action to inaction. Snatching up her thin cotton robe, she shrugged it on and padded her way to the kitchen.

Deana loved this little flat of theirs, and she'd invested a lot of her flair in it, but suddenly it looked drab and uninteresting. Because of where Delia was. And who she was with . . . Taking a sip from her glass of fizzy water, Deana switched off the light again. The dark was far easier to brood in.