The Glass Knot-mmf (3 page)

“Ah,
yes, fucking hell, I love you, yes, yes, yes,” I cried out. Deep within me
there was an explosion and my ass pulsed into a series of powerful
contractions. My bollocks fired out the pressure that had been building, shooting
it up my shaft and jettisoning it between our frantic bodies.

“Ah,
you sound so fucking awesome when you come,” he groaned.

“Oh,
you’re so deep, don’t stop, keep going, take every last bit of me.”

This
seemed to tip Nick over the edge, and instead of rocking he lifted up and began
to pound in and out of my quivering ass. Slapping up against my butt cheeks and
thighs with each devastating thrust.

I
stretched my arms up and grabbed hold of the slats in the headboard. Allowed
him to own my body. Use it to take himself to an ecstatic high.

“Fucking
hell, that’s it, that’s it,” he shouted, forging in fast and hard then freezing
at the hilt.

I
peeled open my eyes and reveled in the sensation of his cock spurting into me,
filling my ass with his need and his hot cum.

“Oh,
my God,” he cried, gripping my waist and impaling me farther onto his spasming
shaft. “That’s so good, so fucking good.”

Still
clutching the headboard, I braced my heels on the bed as he rammed into me
twice more, shuddering out his climax. He was so hard and long, sometimes I
wondered how the hell he fit inside me when his cock was at its maximum length
and girth, just before he orgasmed.

“Oh,
yes,” he panted, dropping down and burying his face in my neck.

I
allowed my legs to flop to the sides, released the headboard and wrapped my
arms around his shoulders. I held him close as he trembled and his heart beat
wildly.

“Thank
you,” I whispered into his razor-short hair.

“For
what?”

“For
such a wonderful anniversary. It’s been perfect.”

“You’re
perfect,” he said, kissing my neck. “I can’t imagine my life without you. I
would do anything for you, you know that.”

“The
feeling is mutual,” I said, stoking my fingers down his damp back, dipping into
the gutter of his spine and feeling the first rise of his buttocks. “We will be
together forever, no matter what happens. You must always remember that.”

Laura

Okay,
so Marbella had been a long way to go for a weekend and had maxed out the
credit card, but I just had to escape the gray June London was offering. Where
were the ice-cream-coated kids, the heavy, week-old smog, and the sun-screened
bodies lounging in the parks?

Looking
around the endless beach, it seemed all the sticky kids and the suntanned torsos
had made the same decision as me—to get the hell out of the city and
closer to the Equator.

I
stretched back on my lounger and stared at the horizon. The sea was the color
of a Ceylon sapphire, a pale crystal blue with just a few frothy waves breaking
on the surface. The fine sand, a vivid gold, was interrupted only by bright
bikinis, colorful swim trunks and the odd striped windbreak. It was a like a
scene from a travel brochure, which was just as well since my latest photographic
assignment was about the masses escaping the dismal British weather.

I
clicked away on my Nikon digital. Took a shot of two children building a
sandcastle, then turned and zoomed in on a waiter delivering an umbrella-and-cherry-strewn
cocktail to a woman in a white bikini on a white sun bed beneath a white
parasol. I studied the image, slurped up the last of my own fruity, rum-laced
cocktail, then turned my lens to sea. A beautiful yacht broke the surface and I
snapped its graceful profile; it was almost silhouetted because of the dense
sunshine. I reduced my zoom and scanned the ebbing waves. Several kids splashed
noisily, an elderly couple walked past hand in hand, and then, then a buff
beach God strolled out of the water.

It
was as if every cell in my body magnetically tuned in to him. A fizzing
sensation of awareness buzzed over my skin. I caught my breath and skimmed my
gaze over him. It was a Daniel Craig moment, but this was a million times
better, because
this
perfect specimen of manhood was here, breathing the
same air as me, walking on the same sand as my lounger rested on.

I
clicked away, keen to immortalize that broad, angular chest the color of a
perfect apple-pie crust. I needed to record that slim waist, wall of bricked
abs and tight navy swim trunks. His thighs were wide with muscles, tensing with
each step he took out of the waves.

My
index finger went on overdrive as he scraped back his wet hair, the action
causing his torso to stretch and amplify his sumptuous oblique muscles angling
down to his shorts. I licked my lips, straightened my back and thought what
perfect shots I’d have.

He
was getting closer. He’d left the gentle push-pull of the ebbing waves and was now
on dry powdery sand. Kicking up little clouds behind himself with each step.

Suddenly
my mouth dried and I swallowed. He was staring straight at me. I took one last
indulgent shot then lowered my lens. In an instant my heart rate shot to
dangerous levels. By reducing my zoom the lens had fooled me into thinking he
was farther away than he was. The glaring truth was his broad shadow was just
about to engulf me. Swallow me whole.

I
stared up into the bluest eyes I’d ever seen. They were the exact shade of the
cloudless sky above me. He pushed his hair back again;
it
was dark blond and several long tendrils flopped straight back over his
forehead. His parted his lips, as if to speak, then closed it and tipped his
mouth into a smile instead.

If
I’d been hot before, now I was on fire. His smile was enough to cause my bikini
briefs to spontaneously combust. Wide sensuous lips, the lower one a little
plump, screamed sin. Good, hot, dirty sin. Oh, it had been so long since I’d
enjoyed the benefit of a sexy man’s mouth on my body.

I
matched his smile, lifted my shades to the top of my head and rested back on my
lounger. Enjoyed his gaze roaming down my body and was glad I’d opted for my
favorite red bikini that morning. It had tiny white polka dots and the
halter-neck top was especially flattering on my small breasts.

But
despite his appreciative expression he didn’t slow down. He kept on walking,
stepped right past me, so close that tiny grains of sand from his passing feet
sprinkled onto my magazine and beach bag. I stared at his long limbs, wishing I
wasn’t such a sucker for a handsome face and mouthwatering body.

It
was then I spotted his wedding ring.

Damn.

Just
my bloody luck.

I
sighed and dropped my shades over my eyes. How typical was that? Though of course
I should have known. The good ones were always taken. It seemed to be one of
life’s irritating nuances, the older you got and the more keen you were to
settle down, the less men there were to choose from.

I
shut my eyes and tried not to feel jealous of the lucky woman who would be
getting a drippy, salt-laden kiss from that beautiful mouth right now. Running
her hands over sun-warmed, smooth skin and giggling as he whispered what dirty
things he would do to her later, in bed. I squeezed my legs together and my
clit gave a little tug behind my bikini briefs. There would be no man in my bed
tonight, just my trusty Rampant Rocker vibrator. Rocky, as I affectionately
called him, had been my only release for nearly a year now. A string of
disastrous relationships with men who said one thing but meant another had led
to a decision to take a year off from dating. But that year was nearly up, and
I wouldn’t say no to a man again. Even if it was just for one night.

I
drifted into an explicit daydream about what I’d do with a hot male body tied
up before me. I’d start with long, slow kisses, move on to oral sex; perhaps I
would sit on his face. Then I would ride him, hard and fast. Get myself off
over and over, my pussy gorging on rock hard cock. Next I would let him strap
me down, lay spread-eagled and surrendered, allow him to do what he wanted to
my poor neglected body. In the end I would be crying for a rest he’d made me
come so many times.

“I
brought you a fresh drink.”

The
deep voice at my side startled me from the erotic picture my mind had created.
I opened my eyes, sat up and propped my glasses on my head. Hoped I hadn’t
mumbled anything incriminating during my daydream.

Sitting
on the empty lounger next to mine was Beach God. The very man, I now realized,
who’d been the star of my recently concocted fantasy. Warm anticipation poured
through me. He was truly beautiful and his smile devastatingly infectious.

But
why is he sitting next to me?

“Oh,
er thanks,” I managed, reaching for the large Pina Colada he offered forward.
It had three straws emerging from white froth and two slices of pineapple
balanced on the rim. “But how did you know—?”

“That
you were drinking Pina Colada? I asked the waiter at the beach bar.” He nodded
in the direction of a circular wooden hut with a reed-stick roof.

“Oh,
well, thank you very much. I’d just finished mine.”

“I
know.” He grinned and took a sip from a bottle of beer. When he lowered the
bottle it made a soft sploshing sound. He held out his hand. “Josh Kendal.”

He
wrapped his long, strong fingers around mine and squeezed gently. His skin was
as smooth and warm as I’d imagined, though I noticed callouses on his palm.

“Laura
Makay. It’s nice to meet you, Josh. Thanks for the drink.”

“Are
you here alone, Laura?”

“Yes,
just for a long weekend. I need pictures for an assignment so decided to take a
working holiday.”

“Great
place you’ve chosen to work. Marbella’s amazing.”

“Yes,
it is.” I took a sip of my scrumptious cocktail, appreciating its coolness
after the dregs of my last one that had warmed in the sunshine. “What about
you. Are you here alone or are you with your wife?” I directed my gaze at his
left hand, staring studiously at his silver wedding ring for a few seconds
before re-settling my gaze on his.

He
grinned. “No, not at all, I don’t have a wife.”

I
raised my eyebrows a fraction and took another sip of drink. No wife but
wearing a wedding ring? I would wait for him to explain that one.

His
grin was still in place when he nodded in the direction of the beach bar. “I’m
here with my partner, Nick.”

I
followed his gaze.

“That’s
him, sitting in the shade, catching up on emails,” Josh said.

I
spotted a tall, dark-haired guy hunched over a laptop. He wore flowery swim
shorts and had a broad, hairy chest. “Your partner. As in business.”

Josh
laughed, a deep rumbling sound. “God no, I couldn’t work with him, he’s
fanatical about detail, it would drive me crazy. No, Nick is my husband” He
smoothed his index finger over the ring. “We’ve been together for ten years.
That’s why we’re in Marbella. He’s treating me to a holiday as an anniversary
present.”

I
felt as though a ton of rubble had just been dropped inside my chest. Of all
the luck. Not only was the delectable man at my side married, he was also gay.
He couldn’t be more out of reach if he was living on the damn moon. “Well, er,
congratulations,” I said, swallowing tightly. “On, your, you know,
anniversary.” I gulped down several big mouthfuls of cocktail, ensuring the
straw was right at the base of the glass to maximize the rum hit.

“Thanks,”
he said, pushing his hair from his face again.

I
rested back and slotted my sunglasses down over the bridge of my nose. I didn’t
want him to spot the disappointment in my eyes. Josh was by far the most lovely
looking man I’d spoken to in years and suddenly finding out nothing would ever
happen between us, not even for one night, created a twisting frustration in my
gut.

“So
where are you staying?” he asked.

“Just
here.” I tipped my head to the towering hotel behind the beach bar. “At The
Peniche.”

“Yes,
so are we. It’s pretty special, isn’t it?”

“It’s
lovely, but I really should have been kinder to my bank balance and gone for
something a little cheaper.”

“So
why didn’t you?”

“Well,
since I’m traveling alone I wanted to know my hotel wasn’t going to be on some
dingy back street. Plus, this one has free airport transfers so I didn’t need
to hire a car.” I shrugged. “And it’s just for four nights anyway.”

He
smiled. “I think it does everyone good to be spoiled sometimes.”

“Definitely.
Has Nick been spoiling you?”

“God
yes. He acts like a hard nut but he’s a complete softy really, very romantic
when the mood takes him and he’s not swamped by work.”

“What
does he do?”

“He’s
an architect. He’s got his own business which he runs from home, but it means
he needs to keep on top of current projects when we’re away. He can’t
completely forget about his clients.”