Meagan (3 page)

“I knew you would.”

He gave a low laugh and licked her nipple once, before drawing it into his mouth. Her back arched and she gasped. His other hand was on her lower back, steadying her. The heat from his palm and the heat of his mouth tumbled through her.

When he kissed her again, there was no gentle caress. His teeth raked her lip as his fingers undid her pants and shoved them down her hips—he didn't stop to appreciate the lacy panties beneath as they got yanked down in one move with her pants.

“Hands on the table.” But he was already turning her to face the uneaten food. The lopsided truffle mocked her. She shouldn't have thrown it at him, but she didn't regret it one bit. Not when it had started this.

She spread her fingers over the white tablecloth. His ring glinted in the candlelight. Behind her, he trailed his hands over her butt, then down the back of her thigh before tracing up the inside of her leg to caress the swollen lips of her sex. She shivered and it had nothing to do with being almost naked and cold.

He pushed two fingers into her slick core and her hips jerked. “You liked sucking my cock.”

There was really no point in denying so she kept her mouth closed. There had been something arousing about being on her knees, but it had been the way he'd watched her and wanted her. The way he wanted her now.

He removed his fingers and his hands gripped her ass cheeks. Her breath hitched as the head of his cock nudged at her entrance and then he thrust into her pussy in one hard stroke. She gasped, but he held onto her so she couldn't move. He filled her completely, and for a moment she wasn't sure she'd be able to breathe again.

Then he started moving. Slow deep thrusts that made her knees weak, her climax was so close. She just needed to touch her clit. Tension throbbed between her legs, his thrusts became harder. She moved one hand, but he caught it and pressed it to the table.

Now his body was against hers. The buttons of his waistcoat were cold as they pressed against her skin and his movements were shallower. She wanted to throw him off and go back to the hard possession that she'd had a moment ago. He kissed the back of her neck, his free hand slid around to cup her breast and pinch her nipple before going lower.

Her breathing became shaky as his hand moved over her wobbly tummy. The stretch marks might fade but the skin was never quite the same again. It was softer. She hated it. His fingers brushed over her mons then between her labia. When he touched her clit she jumped.

“Sensitive? Not getting enough?”

She closed her eyes. It never seemed like enough. “No.”

His touch softened to a gentle caress. He was barely moving inside her now. She wanted to feel him. She tried to move but was too trapped.

“You can move once you come.” His fingers kept moving as if they knew exactly what it was she needed. The tension wound tighter. “I want to hear you come.”

She whimpered, so close. Then her climax was racing through her body. He released her hand and, as promised, let her move. She met him thrust for thrust, her body still sparking with the aftershocks.

He groaned and pulled out. She glanced behind…he wasn't done yet.

Fraser turned her around to face him, one hand around the base of his cock. “You need to finish what you started.”

What she had started? He'd been the one to take off his ring: game on.

Her legs were still shaking, but she dropped to her knees, her pants around her ankles. His cock thrust forward, ruddy and slippery with her juice. She swallowed, her heart bouncing high in her throat as she reached for him. Her hand glided over him, he was thick and hard and ready to come. It wouldn't take much. With every touch his cock twitched.

“Your mouth.”

She tasted herself on him. He groaned as her mouth encased him. His hand rested lightly on her head, but this time he didn't press. She sucked and took him deeper.

“Christ, you're killing me.” He closed his eyes, his hips moving as he thrust into her mouth.

She cupped his balls and pressed the sensitive spot just behind. His hips jerked then her mouth was flooded with his salty cum. She swallowed and kept sucking and stroking until he was done.

After a moment he pulled away. His breathing was rough and he was looking at her as if he couldn't quite decide what had just happened. Fraser tucked himself away and straightened his clothes, this time making no comment about the chocolate stains.

He helped her up, taking a last kiss before finding her bra and tank on the floor and handing them to her.

“You can put the truffle on the menu. Autumn only, then we reassess.”

“Okay.” She watched as he put his wedding ring back on. He paused to rub the chocolate off the metal, then he stopped as he checked the time.

“Damn it, I've kept you late. Didn't you promise Eva you'd be home in time for bedtime?” And just like that, the game was over. Fraser was back into parent and husband mode.

They were trying to hold onto who they had been, when they barely had time to keep up with the present. She bit back the sigh and wished she could have him for a little longer before he was stolen away. Before she was dragged back to the demands of her life. When had they got so busy?

“Yes.” And she didn't want to disappoint their four year old again. “I've got to clean up.” She pulled her tank on. There was a pile of dishes to be done and the table to clear and she wouldn't leave the mess for someone to clean up at the start of their shift. By the time she got home, both of their daughters would be asleep. She rarely got to put them to bed. And while she knew the nanny would take care of it, she wanted to be there. She didn't want to be one of those society mothers who let nannies raise the kids.

She started gathering up the plates. An ache between her legs and her mouth still tasting of sex.

Fraser put his hand on her arm. “Go, I'll clean up. It's my fault we ran late. You looked tired and I wanted to get business out of the way first.”

Then business had become pleasure, the way it always did when they got some time alone. And she wouldn't trade it. She loved the little games they played. If they didn't make the effort to schedule in time they'd never see each other…and if some of those meetings required a little role-play, well, that was something new they had discovered while trying to get their sex life back after two kids in four years.

“It's okay.” It was her responsibility to clean up.

“No, go home, Meagan. I know how to do dishes.”

She hesitated. They were long past the time when Fraser had needed to do dishes. When Edesia had first opened they'd often been short of funds and short-staffed. His parents had warned him that restaurants weren't a good investment and had refused to allow him to use family money, so he'd fronted the funds himself. There'd been many occasions when he'd worked in the kitchen washing dishes. To this day she was sure that no one knew the man they were shouting at to move it was actually the owner. He'd just knuckled under and done it.

Fraser wasn't scared of hard work. It was one of the reasons he was so successful.

He leaned in and kissed her cheek. Then licked her skin; she'd forgotten about the chocolate on her face. “You know that truffle is really quite delicious. I felt really bad lying to you…but you arced up so nicely that I couldn't resist.”

“I was just playing along.”

“Liar.” He whispered in her ear. “I'll see you at home.”

***

After putting Eva and Tilda to bed, Meagan had taken a long shower. She needed to spend more time with the girls. They would only be little for such a short amount of time, but if she stepped away from the restaurant…restaurants…then everything else that went along with being Meagan Bissett, chef and businesswoman, would crumble. Even before Fraser had swept in like a prince from a fairytale to grant her desires she'd had to work hard and be better than the male chefs, just to get noticed. Even now she had to fight for every guest spot and she was still judged on her family and kids. Did the male chef's kids ever get talked about? No.

She dried off and sucked her stomach in.

She needed more than three sessions a week with her personal trainer.

Did it matter if the male chefs were rotund? No.

She slipped in to nightdress, pale pink and slinky. She rubbed the fabric between her fingers. She was so far from the girl who'd travelled Europe on a shoestring, working under some of the best chefs. Her kids would never have to worry. They could chase their dreams and know that their parents had the funds to back them. Although Fraser had said that if either of them wanted to be a model, they were on their own. He expected them to use their brains the way he and his brothers had been forced to. There had been no family handouts until they'd proven themselves. Mr Nichols was a force to be reckoned with and his wife had been terrifying. The first time Meagan had met them she'd wanted to hide. But they'd loved her. The only thing they didn't tolerate was laziness.

What would happen if she did stop?

She'd go crazy trapped in the house after two days. Arranging fundraising and charities didn't excite her, although she often attended and contributed. Working was part of who she was.

She just needed a better balance.

“You look concerned.” Fraser leaned against the bathroom door, dressed in just his shirt and pants. She shouldn't have put chocolate on his suit and yet she had to fight to keep the smile off her face at the memory. “You've changed your mind and decided we do need to remodel?”

She shook her head. “In a few more years. I can't face it right now.” She knew some women who insisted on updating their house every couple of years. Their renovations were worth more than the house she'd grown up in. She still looked at money in terms of what she'd had growing up. That was her reference to normal. None of this was normal. It was extravagant and luxurious and she loved it…but sometimes it was like she was living someone else's life.

He sighed. “Neither can I.”

“Do you ever think we are too busy?”

He frowned and looked away, a lock of dark hair falling over his forehead. “I feel that if I step back my life will keep going without me doing anything. After working for twenty years, I'm not needed.”

“That's not true. I need you.” She slid her arms around his neck and kissed him. Not with the heat and lust of before, but the simple need to feel her husband in her arms for just a few moments.

“No you don't. You are your own success.”

“And if I stop I will vanish into obscurity.” After tasting the fame and the adulation she didn't want to lose it, not yet anyway.

“You can be obscure with me. We'll buy an island and let the girls grow up wild while we do nothing but lie on a beach and you think up one hundred and one ways to cook with coconut and fish.”

That sounded tempting. No demands and no expectations, but she knew Fraser wouldn't last any longer than she would. He needed be busy. “You don't fish.”

“I'll learn. It can't be worse than golf.”

“Lessons going well?” Mr Nichols had broken his leg in a cycling accident and was wheelchair bound. He was annoyed to be missing the tournament and Fraser had been roped into filling in because his brothers were unavailable.

He growled. “Stupid little ball. I don't understand what my father sees in the game.”

“It's for charity.” She smiled, knowing he wouldn't grumble at the event; there he'd be, all smiles and cash. He was ever reliable.

He sighed, “So I keep being told.”

“You'll be fine.” She kissed him again and went to pass so he could use the bathroom, but he stopped her by putting his arms around her waist.

“Did you mean what you said before, about there not being enough?” His hand slid lower to squeeze her butt.

“Sometimes it feels like we are simply bumping into each other and not actually with each other.” She glanced away knowing that the problem could be solved if she stopped working—not that Fraser would ever suggest that. “I have to go to Melbourne for three days next week.”

“TV?”

“And interviewing for Footprint. But you could come down for a day or two?” She hoped he could. It would be a nice break for them both, even if she was working for some of it.

“Let me check.” He pulled his phone out of his pocket and opened up his calendar. “If I shift two meetings I can. A day and a night all to ourselves…what will we do?”

“Probably sleep.” She'd be back just in time to take her turn hosting the biweekly dinner party for the women who formed her social circle—drawn together by privilege and money if not actual friendship.

He laughed. “I see you have a blank the Wednesday after…did you want to meet up? There's that 1920s style whiskey bar we haven't tried yet, it's meant to be good.”

“You aren't suggesting stockings with seams up the back and a shady detective, are you?” That could be an interesting game, and more importantly they could put the kids to bed and then go out and have some fun.

“I wasn't, but I am so there. You want to lead that one?” He smiled, a devilish glint in his eyes, as if he was already imagining the things they could get up to.

“Sure.” All she'd have to come up with was a bit of an idea about what game they'd play, what she wanted and how best to lead him astray. Thinking about it was half the fun—on either side of the game. Expectation was a powerful aphrodisiac. As always, though, they'd meet up, and if one of them was just too tired they'd have a few drinks and go home. Taking their rings off always the sign that the game was on. But another date squeezed in at the edges wasn't what she wanted. “Perhaps we should start booking in our time first, instead of waiting for meeting gaps?”

“We can do that.” He kissed her slowly, his tongue flicking over her lips before she opened her mouth to him. Desire rose slowly…perhaps they could fall into bed and extend the evening pleasure.