Cambridge Blue - Alison Bruce [87]
She turned her face up to his, and kissed him tentatively. He jerked his head away, but she could already tell that there was no way he was about to bolt.
‘What are you doing?’ he asked.
He started to say something else, but she pressed her fingertips to his lips. ‘Shhh.’ She kissed him again, and slid her hand around to cup his neck and keep him close to her. The kiss lingered and became deeper as she teased his tongue into her mouth. Her lips were soft and her mouth tasted of spearmint. He wasn’t a bad kisser, just a little too eager, too adolescent. But maybe that was a good thing.
With her free hand she started to unbutton her blouse. Pulling the buttons apart, letting him think their kissing had reawakened the sexual chemistry between them. She knew the exact moment when his focus on her became total, and then she pulled back. He looked surprised. She ran her hand across his lap, pretending it was a casual touch – but they both knew it wasn’t.
She stood up in front of him. Her nerves had now calmed, she’d stopped shivering, and suddenly the room felt much warmer. She dropped her blouse to the floor and watched his intense gaze fall on to her cleavage.
Her stare was unwavering as she pushed her bra down and cupped her breasts, massaging the nipples with her thumbs.
She saw him rub the palm of his hand on the hip of his trousers, and she knew she was making progress.
‘Why not?’ she asked lightly and let her skirt drop to the floor.
She unhooked her bra and let it fall, then stepped back and pirouetted slowly in just her black G-string and high heels. Her skin was tanned and taut, and she knew her body was better than Lorna’s.
‘You look good,’ he said.
Her lips parted and she ran her tongue across her teeth and smiled.
‘But we’re not doing it here,’ he added.
She knew she was committed now, and held his gaze. ‘Why not? You’re hard, aren’t you?’ She reached down, took his hand and guided it between her legs. ‘It’s what I really need right now.’
‘But not here.’
‘Why not?’
‘What if we’re caught?’
‘We won’t be, but it’s the risk of it that’s turning me on. I don’t even think I’d mind if someone were watching.’ She bent forward and kissed him again. His fingers travelled upwards, across her stomach to her breasts. Her skin was warm, her nipples erect. She tilted her head back, encouraging his lips to caress her neck. ‘Come on,’ she breathed. ‘Come on.’ She pushed his hand back down to her G-string. ‘Pull it off,’ she gasped.
Obediently he tugged it a couple of times. On the second attempt the flimsy elastic snapped. He paused to mutter, ‘I’m sorry.’
‘It doesn’t matter.’ She rolled backwards on to the mattress, using all her weight to pull him with her. His left hand tugged at the zip of his trousers. His legs pressed themselves between hers, his hips pushing them apart.
She squeezed his arm with her fingers and wriggled as if trying to escape, but in his ear she breathed, ‘Come on then, fuck me.’
He was heavy and enthusiastic; it felt like being humped by an eighteen-month-old Labrador. His mouth moved to her neck, and he sucked at the skin over her jugular, his hips pushing her legs even further apart. She wrapped her ankles around his thighs. He penetrated her and pushed himself in deep. Her neck began burning as blood rushed to the surface, her lower body throbbing as his body ground against hers. Credit where it was due: he was more Dobermann than Labrador.
Even so, she gritted her teeth and stared into the gloom of the ceiling, patiently counting his thrusts, just for something to do. There were always three hundred or so, she reckoned. Blokes: it was the monotony of them that got to her.
As the wardrobe doors had opened, Goodhew braced himself for instant discovery, only to see the doors bounce back at him in the same instant. For two or three seconds, he was in total darkness, then, as though the wardrobe suddenly relented, the doors popped back open by a good inch and a half. He hoped he wasn’t as visible as he felt.
He watched