His Convenient Mistress (10 page)

He was thickly and impressively aroused when he stripped off his boxer shorts and he smiled with indolent amusement as her mouth parted at the sight of him.

She couldn't help it. She dazedly thought that his body was as much a work of art as it was possible for any human body to be. Broad-shouldered, with his powerful chest narrowing to a slim waist and hips and legs that no one in their right mind would ever have associated with a businessman. She could discern the flex of his muscles and sinews beneath the olive-toned skin, and when her eyes alighted on his proudly erect manhood she found that she couldn't tear them away.

He walked towards the side of the bed and extended his
hands, reaching out for her to take them so that he could draw her to her feet.

The thought of her naked body was something to be savoured. He wanted to be the one who removed her clothes, so that he could see her nudity inch by inch, appreciate every tiny bit of it in slow degrees.

He unzipped the dress from the back and she arched as he kissed the slender column of her neck, then her shoulders as the dress was tugged down to her waist, exposing her breasts straining through the lacy bra.

Later. He would savour them later, feast on them, but for now he was content to span her waist with his big hands and draw her close so that he could take her mouth in a lingering kiss.

She was tall and slender, just the opposite of the small, voluptuous women he had always favoured, but there was something unbearably erotic about the sensuous length of her, the perfect flawlessness of her pale skin.

He brought his hands up to cup her breasts and she sighed with pleasure, automatically pushing them towards him, conducting her own inventory of his body with her hands. She ran them along his shoulders, then circled his tight brown nipples with her thumbs, then moved to caress the hard, flat planes of his stomach.

She was wearing too many clothes. She wanted to feel him, flesh against flesh, and as if the need was as strong in him as it was in her he dragged down her dress, which fell to her ankles, allowing her to step out of it.

‘Now, bed…'

‘What about the rest of my clothes?' Sara asked, dipping her eyes at the naked yearning in his expression.

‘Oh, don't worry, I shall get to that…'

There was something shamelessly wanton about lying
semi-clothed on a vast bed, with a big man towering possessively over you. Sara smiled with half-closed eyes, inviting his ravishing appraisal of her, which was no less searing than the one she was affording him.

There was no yesterday and no tomorrow, only this moment, right here and now, timeless.

Sara pushed herself up against the pillows and reached behind with trembling fingers to unclasp the bra. Sensation was racing through her, betraying every line of defence she had ever adopted when it came to the opposite sex. She just knew that she wanted this man's eyes on her and his hands on her and his body to possess hers utterly.

James moved towards the side of the bed and lowered himself alongside her, watching her quivering body and relishing the thought of tasting every last inch of it. As her bra was undone and before she could pull it off, he straddled her so that his length covered hers and he supported himself on his elbow as he slipped his free hand under the bra to cup the soft mound of her breast.

He felt her low moan as he began teasing one nipple, rolling it gently between his thumb and forefinger. He nudged up the bra and feasted on the sight of her bare breasts. Lord, but he would have to control his urge to take her immediately, right now, and release the pounding, physical ache of his desire in his loins.

He lay over her and caught his hands in her hair. Her head was flung back and another moan escaped her as he traced her lower lip with his tongue, then tasted the sweetness of her mouth in a slow, sensual kiss that had her writhing like a cat beneath him.

It had been a long time, and even when she had made love all that time ago it had never been like this. Through her hazy mind, she knew that she was being touched by a
man who had complete mastery in the art of making love. His mouth was demanding and hungry yet delicately lingering and she was so absorbed with the pleasure of it that she was hardly aware that he had nudged apart her thighs, the better for her to feel his rampant maleness pressed against her. He moved slowly over her, his hard shaft pressing against her moist cleft with an evocative rhythm that made her gasp.

‘Enjoying yourself,
cara
?'

‘You…you know I am.'

‘Then why don't you tell me?'

‘Don't stop. Please.'

Her words sent fierce adrenaline rushing through him. He slid off the bra and eased himself lower so that he could trace the tight bud of her swollen nipple with the tip of his tongue, and when she could bear it no longer she tangled her fingers into his hair and pushed him down so that he could suckle on her nipple and draw it shamelessly into his mouth.

A groan escaped her and her voice, so husky that she barely recognised it as her own, pleaded with him to take her. Her briefs were wet with her unbidden arousal, she could feel it, and when he eased them off she quivered with relief and instinctively parted her legs, inviting his entrance.

But he wasn't ready. He shifted his attention from one breast to the other, teasing the full pink disc with his mouth while his hand trailed down to her stomach and navel, then with inexorable slowness to the slippery crease between her thighs.

Sara tensed as he probed and then rubbed the sensitive clitoris that had her releasing her breath in shaky gasps as if she was fighting for air.

She was perched on the edge of orgasm, then she was free falling, unable to resist the powerful shudders of soaring pleasure as he continued to rub her before easing his finger deep into her moistness. Her body literally shook and trembled under the assault of sensation, and when she finally stilled she could barely open her eyes to look at him.

He would be disappointed but she had been powerless to resist his stimulation. She groaned with frustration and looked at him.

‘I'm sorry,' Sara whispered and he smiled at her.

‘What for?' He lay next to her on his side and turned her to face him.

‘For…for…you know why…' As if to demonstrate what she found difficult to say, she touched him and his hardness pulsed in response.

‘You don't think that we've finished already, do you?'

Green eyes widened.

‘I've only explored a part of your body,' he informed her with a low, sexy laugh.

As if to prove his point, he raised her arm and proceeded to trace a path with his lips along her side, reawakening ripples of sensation in her. Then he moved his attention to her stomach, to the soft indentation of her navel, then down to the most intimate place of all, where his skilful fingers had just finished their masterful assault.

‘No!' Sara tried to clamp shut her legs, but without success.

‘No?' He looked up at her, then, to further addle her, he blew gently against the still swollen nub of her femininity. ‘Why not?'

‘You can't…I've never…'

‘Never had a man's mouth down there?' The shockingly
forthright question had her blushing furiously and she would have bucked against him but it would have been useless. His weight was rendering her immobile. ‘There's a first time for everything, though, isn't there?'

Without allowing the chance for debate, he lowered his head and with almost unbearable delicacy touched the tip of her clitoris with his tongue.

From feeling spent only minutes previously, Sara's body charged into life as if a jolt of electricity had run through it. Where she would have writhed, he held her still with his hands firmly placed on her hips. Then he was licking with a rhythmic pressure that had her groaning with un-disguised rapture.

She had never reached these heights before and her whole body was trembling with a rippling onslaught of sensations that had her crying out.

Then when she thought, anguished, that she would again no longer be able to restrain herself from capitulating to what he was doing to her body, he was breaking away from the honeyed moistness and moving to cover her body with his in one fluid movement.

‘Contraception,' he murmured and her eyes flickered open at the prosaic nature of the remark.

‘Wh…what?'

‘Are you using any?' he questioned softly, ‘because if you aren't, then there are other ways of…reaching a climax without penetration…'

He was responsible, her brain registered dimly, responsible enough to think about the consequences of what they were about to do. She half smiled. ‘There's no need to worry,' she said, stretching up, feline-like, to coil her arms around his shoulders. ‘And no need to talk either,' she whispered.

In actual fact, she was on the Pill, not because her sex life required it, but because the Pill regulated her periods and helped to lighten the flow. The explanation was there if he wanted it, but right now she wasn't intending to launch into it. Her body was screaming for fulfilment and she could tell from the glitter in his eyes that he was as well.

Sara felt him enter her and her body tensed as every muscle stretched to accommodate his size. He eased himself in slowly, withdrew slightly, eased himself further in and then he was moving inside her, deep thrusts that had her spiralling towards the most powerful climax she had ever experienced.

And she witnessed his own soaring passion as his powerful body arched back on one long, final thrust and he shuddered to complete fulfilment.

He could have made love to her again. He wanted nothing more than to lose himself once more in her exquisite body and let her lose herself in his, but there was a thread of uncertainty running through him that made him wonder whether she would just pull back, retreat again to a place where he might not be able to reach her.

He had wanted her and now he felt himself consumed by the possibility of having her again. His vague plan to somehow get to know her so that he could manoeuvre his way into buying the Rectory lay in splinters at his feet, but he didn't care. At least not at this moment in time. At this moment in time the only thing he cared about was repeating the mind-blowing experience they had shared.

‘We…we have to go and collect Simon,' was the first coherent thing that came to her mind as he lay on his side and tugged her so that she was facing him.

‘It's…' he glanced at the clock on the mantelpiece over
the fireplace ‘…eleven-fifteen. He'll be asleep already…' He didn't want to scare her off but just lying here next to her was making his body stir into life once again. ‘So he won't notice whether you're there now or…in an hour's time…and I can think of other things we can do to fill the time…' He stroked the side of her breast then rolled one nipple between his fingers, feeling a flare of triumph as it hardened at his touch.

Sex. It was all about sex, and she honestly couldn't blame him. They had made love like people who had spent years starved of physical contact. Right in her case, but in his case? He was just a highly skilled lover who knew how to press the right buttons to get the right responses.

‘No,' she said weakly, disturbed by the thought that there should be something more than just the act of making love, however glorious that was in itself.

‘Why not?' He removed his hand and she felt the loss of contact with a shiver of dismay.

‘Because…because we just can't.'

‘Can't…?'

Sara twisted her head so that she didn't have to look into his eyes. Those eyes made her doubt everything she had ever believed, made her wonder whether shying away from men so that she could never be hurt had actually been such a good idea after all. She didn't want to doubt herself. She had Simon to consider. There was no way that she would expose him to having a man around, only for the man to disappear just as his own father had. And James Dalgleish was a disappearing kind of man. You didn't need a degree in rocket science to spot that a mile off.

‘I need to get dressed.'

‘Oh, no, you don't.' He gripped her arm firmly enough to anchor her to the spot but not so hard that he was phys
ically hurting her, although she knew that the slightest attempt by her to get off the bed would result in enough pressure for him to ensure that she went nowhere.

‘How long do you plan on running away, Sara? Another year? Two years? The rest of your life?'

‘You're hurting my arm.'

‘
Por Dios,
woman! We all screw up once in a while! The trick is not to end up haunted by it!' He could feel her withdrawing with every passing second and his powerlessness to do anything about it made him want to break things. But aggression would get him nowhere. He forced himself to calm down, released her arm and gave her a long, measured look.

‘
You've
screwed up?
Ever?
'

‘Yes, if you must know.' He felt as if he was stepping off the edge of something, but
what
…? ‘When I was young, I had a fling with a woman ten years older than me. I thought it was love until I surprised her at her flat one afternoon with another man. Turned out I was a little plaything being cultivated by the pair of them as an easy route to some quick cash. Marry me, divorce me, end up rich. Nice, quick, foolproof.' There was no reason why he should have kept this untold story to himself, but it still confused the hell out of him as to why he had felt so damned compelled to tell it in the first place.

‘What did you do?'

‘I learnt my lesson,' he said abruptly.

‘But you didn't have a child.'

‘No.'

‘And children get hurt.'

‘And adults can use that to hide behind!'

‘I want to get my son back now.' Her heart was beating like a drum and something inside her head was screaming
out to her that one wrong move now would land her waist-deep in quicksand.