Read Hong Kong Heat Online

Authors: Raven McAllan

Tags: #Erotic Romance Fiction

Hong Kong Heat (12 page)

He tugged her hard nub into his mouth and gently scraped his teeth over the skin. Debra arched into his mouth. “Oh, shit, I’ll come again and I want to come with you inside me.”

Braam lifted his head.

Damn, he didn’t have to move so fast.

“Oh, I think you can manage to come now
and
when I’m in you. Look.” He bent his head again and circled his tongue around the entrance to her channel. He pushed the tip of his tongue inside and bit the soft skin at the entrance.

Debra screamed and moved her head from side to side, to catch and hold that indefinable something that was just out of reach. Then she found it. Her movements increased. It was mind blowing and she couldn’t have stopped her climax if she’d tried. She didn’t try. Waves and waves of heat flowed through her.

“Now, for goodness’ sake. Come in me now.”

“Oh, yes.”

Stings and tingles caressed and teased her skin as he plunged into her. Braam set up a fast and furious rhythm and Debra met him thrust for thrust. Each push, each nudge and every grunt she heard made her heart swell and its beat increase. He bent his head and bit her nipple before laving it with his tongue. The pain was swift and sent an immediate line of heat to her clit.

Her mind went blank. Coherent thought disappeared as she rode the waves of ecstasy.

How long she was in the throes of her arousal, Debra had no idea. When she finally stopped shuddering and opened her eyes, her head was on Braam’s chest, which she noted with satisfaction was heaving like a tugboat in a gale.

“Whew.”
What an insipid exclamation for something so out of the world.
Sadly her tired brain couldn’t come up with anything less mundane.

“Yeah.” As ever, Braam played with her hair and stroked her cheek and throat.

She’d have to ask him if in the lieu of worshiping toes, he had a fetish about her head instead.
Later.

“You complete me, Deb. I can’t think of any other way to say it.”

Those simple words made her swell up and sniff. “Oh, my. And you me.”

He cuddled her closer. “Just as well.” He was silent for a moment and Debra was content to stay as they were. “Listen, it’s stopped raining. We’d better make a move before the next storm rolls in. There might not be another convenient place to shelter and we don’t want to get all soaked and have a damp ferry ride back.”

Debra giggled as she reluctantly moved off his chest and sat up. She looked around and found her top.

“Oh, that’s okay. I have a raincoat.”

Braam stared at her. “You do? That’s good because so do I. Great minds and all that.”

It seemed they were in harmony in more ways than one.

 

* * * *

 

Once Braam had dismantled the makeshift shelter and packed everything away, it took next to no time to regain the track and continue on their way.

Once more the sun was out and the humidity hit them hard.

“I wish that I’d bought one of those fans you put round you forehead.” Debra waved her hand in front of her face like a fan. “And I wish we could have left our wee hidey hole as it was.” She spoke in a wishful tone. “You know, as a perpetual reminder of a fantastic rainstorm.”

“And have every chancing it youth of Lamma getting up to God knows what there?” Braam was more prosaic. “As it is, no one goes there because it’s off the beaten track and there are easier, more comfortable places for them to make out. Best to leave it as is. Then when we’re old and gray we can find it again and relive our memories.”

Debra laughed, even though her pulse jumped. Was it a good sign? An omen he was talking about when they were old? Or was it a generalization? She wasn’t going to ask.

“With our Zimmers and saying things aren’t like they were in our younger days?”

“Probably. Look, here’s the lad with the ice lollies. Want one?”

The lollies were eaten as they walked down the hill. The youth, who couldn’t have been more than fifteen, had entreated them to buy two each, as he said the rain had made business slow. Braam had laughingly declined, but nevertheless Debra was sure Braam had paid over the going rate.

He denied it as they exchanged bites. Debra had asked for lime, Braam had gone for lemon.

“I paid what they were worth,” he said. “No more, no less. Look.” He pointed down the track to where a sliver of sand showed. “If we cross that and get into the village proper, there’s a plethora of restaurants to try. But…” He paused. “Do you trust me?”

Debra wasn’t sure why—or what exactly—he was asking. “Of course. Well, unless you’re going to tell me you have a wife and six kids or you have a bridge to sell me. Why?”

“None of those.” He flicked her nose with his finger. “It’s six wives and one kid and seven bridges.”

“Oh, no problem then. What’s up?”

“I know a great restaurant, but it’s Indian food. Moz does a great mutton curry to friends. What do you say?”

Debra swore she salivated. Mutton curry. Oh, joy.

“I say, yes please, please.”

“Sorted. Five minutes, come on.”

Braam dragged her—there was no other word for it—past tourist shops, stalls selling fast foods and the odd leaflet peddler until they turned off the main street and into a square next to the water.

“Here.” He pushed open a door painted in a myriad of colors and Debra smelled heaven.

“Hey, Moz, can you feed two weary walkers?” Braam dragged her inside. “Outside, so I can romance my lady with sweet nothings and seduce her with your food?” Braam hugged the tall Indian who had him in a death grip.

“Moz, man, don’t kill me. What would my lady do then?”

Moz guffawed. It was a sound Deb hadn’t heard for ages. A mix of the braying of a donkey and the squeal of a pig whose feed had been removed.

“Come to me, of course.” He released Braam who winced and rubbed his chest. Debra wasn’t entirely sure the gesture was theatrical. “Hello, Braam’s lady. You are welcome here. Um, I hope you like curry?”

“Love it.”

Moz swept her into his arms and bent her backward. It was so theatrical and so stupid Debra giggled.

He straightened and thrust her into Braam’s arms. “Here, you have her. She doesn’t appreciate me.”

“And Sukhjinder wouldn’t appreciate you molesting my woman.”

Moz spread his hands out. “So true, and as she is in the kitchen behind several Karahi, here is your lady. Unmolested. The table on the left is for you.” He waved toward the terrace. “It is under the cover if it’s needed.”

Debra looked at the sky as a young girl escorted them to their table. If she were a betting woman, she’d say it was odds on the cover would be needed. The sky was a sullen amber color and the hills looked dark and menacing.

All of a sudden she was glad they’d come down from the hill when they had and not purely because she was hungry.

Braam held her chair out for her and made sure he was back onto the outside. A nasty little wind had sprung up and teased the tablecloths. Moz bustled around with weights and table securers.

Braam gestured toward him. “He knows something we don’t.”

As if the words were a key, the heavens opened and within seconds the waiters sprang into action. Rain bounced like ping pong balls across the concrete square. The side curtains were rolled down and secured and the water was kept out.

Debra had wondered why the tables and chairs were raised up on pallets. Now she knew. Under them the water created streams as it rushed though the courtyard and to the harbor.

On the other side of the square, like a beautifully choreographed corps de ballet, the stallholders rolled large sheets of plastic over their wares then retreated under them to chat and smoke.

It was obviously well-practiced and a break from the mundane. The few tourists not sensible enough to take shelter splashed their way to the ferry terminus and those that had tried to seek shelter at Moz’s were soon disappointed by the lack of tables. It wasn’t over large.

Moz bustled toward their table with a carafe of wine, two glasses and a tray of poppadums and accompaniments. Debra looked at Braam. She didn’t remember ordering anything

“Moz knows my tastes,” Braam said when his friend had rushed away to tell yet more people there was no space. “I said we’d have whatever he decided on, because otherwise goodness knows when we’d eat. He’s a bit busy.”

That was the understatement of the century. Moz and his waiters rushed around like dervishes and served, cleared, chatted and Debra determined, generally made every customer feel favored.

Braam poured the wine.

“We never ever got our wine earlier,” he said as they clinked glasses in a toast. “But I reckon we toasted each other anyway.” He winked. “Cheers.”

Debra almost chocked in the mouthful she had taken. Talk about innuendo.

“Ch-cheers,” she said and swallowed her wine in a hurry. “Er, ooh, look here’s our food.”

“Saved by the tray?” Braam asked in a humorous tone.

“You bet.”

“Then let’s eat.” Braam sat back whilst the waiter explained all the dishes then waved to Deb. “Help yourself, love. It will all be good.”

She needed no more urging. He was right, it
was
good. More than good.

 

“Sheesh, I’m stuffed. How on earth will I be able to walk to the ferry?” Debra put her knife and fork down and sat back. “That was superb.”

“Waddle with me. I always feel like that after eating here.” Braam looked out of the plastic window. The rain was still falling like sheets of water. “Or paddle.” He forked the last of his mutton curry and looked at the woman across the table. Her eyes were bright, her expression one of total satisfaction and she puffed her cheeks out and patted her tummy. He knew exactly what she meant. Moz’s portions were never small and Braam was convinced the ones served to him were always bigger than most.

“Paddle, splash, I don’t care. I think I love the rain.” Debra winked. “Such interesting things happen in a rainstorm.”

He couldn’t argue with that. Braam grinned. “Do you want anything else? Moz’s Balushahi are renowned all over…” He paused. “Lamma Island.”

“Heh, I heard that, you slanderer you.” Moz walked over to them and waggled his finger. “Lamma, Lantau
and
Hong Kong Island. I haven’t quite cracked Kowloon yet, but I’m working on it. “So, you want Balushahi?”

Braam looked at Debra. “Do you?” He had to hold back his grin at her bewildered expression. “It’s a sort of a doughnut. Hot and yummy.”

Debra groaned. “That is cruel. I’m so full I could burst, but it sounds as if I have to try it.”

“Shall we share one?” Braam suggested. “Take turns in biting?”

Deb blushed. He loved the way she did that.

“Yeah… However, don’t expect me to move at any great speed for at least three days, mind. I won’t want any more food for a fortnight at this rate.”

Moz raised his hand in the air and signaled someone Braam couldn’t see. Then he bent his head toward them both. “Sukhi calls them sex aids. Got to love my wife.” He roared with laughter and bustled away.

“Sex aids?”

Braam rolled his eyes. “Sukhi has a warped sense of humor. For Moz’s birthday one year, she made a set with holes in the middle of varying sizes and labeled them now, in a minute, ohhh let’s go for it and all over now…”

Debra spluttered and put her wine glass down in a hurry. “Oh, well, maybe if we get some like that we could take them home for later.”

Home? Oh, I like that idea.

Before Braam could answer, Moz came back with a steaming doughnut shaped cake on a plate and a brown paper bag.

“With love from Sukhi. She says you know what they mean.” He winked. “All gluten free, of course.” He waved away Braam’s credit card. “No, my pleasure. You can return the favor when we get a night out together in Sai Kung.”

“Gluten free?” Debra sounded puzzled.

“Yeah, well, I don’t make a song and dance about it, but I’m coeliac. No wheat, rye or barley.” Braam shrugged. “It’s no biggie. I make sure I read labels.”

“No pizza, baguettes or pasta?” Debra rolled her eyes as he shook his head. “Poor you.”

“Hey, poor me, nothing. Better to find out why I had no energy, shitty low levels of iron and mouth ulcers after a visit to my favorite Italian restaurant. Now they do gluten free pasta and pizza in there and the supermarkets stock most things I need.” Braam used the fork Moz had brought with the Balushahi to cut it in half. He broke a piece off, stabbed it with the fork and put it to Debra’s mouth. Steam rose from the cake and even though she was full, the aroma was mouthwatering. “Here, inhale and enjoy. Mind, it’s hot.”

Debra closed her eyes as she took the mouthful. “Mmm-mmm.” She muttered her appreciation around the sweet. “Grief, this is amazing. But I bet it’s full of calories.”

“Well not in that little bit.” Braam took a bite himself and let the gorgeous spicy sweetness assail his taste buds. “But if it was all of it, well, who knows? That’s why I need to help you out.”

“Beast. You need to help me out so we can both walk as far as the ferry and not have to roll there.” Debra picked another piece of Balushahi up and slid it slowly into her mouth. “Oh my, almost as great as s—” She stopped and grinned. “Sugar buns.”

Her cheeky, sassy and sexual teasing was fun. Braam loved it. “Oh, honey, your buns aren’t sugar, but they sure are great.”

Debra stuck her tongue out at him. “I hope you mean great as in good and not as in size. Or I might be forced to do something drastic.”

Braam wiped his finger through the sugary crumbs they’d left on the plate. Juvenile, but oh so satisfying. Why was it that those tiny morsels tasted so good and so illicit? He stood up and put the parcel of Balushahi into his backpack. “Sounds interesting. What exactly?”

Debra shouldered her own bag. “A-ha, that’s for me to know and you to worry about.”

He liked the sound of that.

 

* * * *

 

After waving their thanks to Moz who was still rushing round like a dervish, serving customers, they walked out of the restaurant, past the queue of people waiting for a table and along the quay that led to the ferry terminal. Already there was an untidy line of people around the gate.

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