Indecent...Desires (8 page)

I don't know how he knows that the top floor of that building has been my private sanctuary since my divorce, that I've never let anyone up there. That I needed a space that was entirely my own, somewhere to hide and eat caramel crunch ice cream and rebuild my shattered self-esteem. And I can see now that it was shattered. Smashed into a million pieces, and those pieces kicked in all directions, so that I had no choice but to rebuild myself from scratch.

To rebuild myself into someone new, someone of my own choosing. I can never be the person I was before. And thanks to Lucas Brady, I finally understand that I don't need to be. He follows me up the stairs, follows me through my door when I open it. He doesn't say a word.

Until I take him into the kitchen. I unfasten my skirt and let it slide to the floor. I'm wearing French knickers today, soft and glamorous, and the seamed stockings that have been hiding in the back of my drawer for what seems like forever. I take off my knickers, exposing the pale skin of my bum to his gaze. I walk over to the freezer and open it, bending over to retrieve what I want, making sure to linger, my legs slightly parted.

He makes a rough, hungry sound and I smile to myself, knowing that he's seeing exactly what I want him to see. I spent my lunch break yesterday at the beauty salon, as he's just discovered.

I set the tub of ice cream on the work top, grab a spoon, pop the lid. My first taste of that creamy, cold sweetness covers my tongue and slides down my throat, and I don't think it has ever tasted so wonderful. At least, not until I glance back at Lucas over my shoulder. He is watching me in silence, his messenger bag still slung over his shoulder, his hands twisted into the strap. His knuckles are white, showing the effort that it is taking for him to keep his hands where they are and not put them somewhere else.

‘Take off your clothes,' I tell him. Then I go back to eating my ice cream. I savour it slowly, not wanting to rush. My ex-husband had always disapproved of my sweet tooth. I've gained half a stone since our marriage ended, and it occurs to me now that I like the way it feels.

Behind me, I can hear the sound of Lucas slowly undressing, the rustle of fabric as it slides over skin. I'm dying to look at him, but I don't. It is far more fun for both of us if I feign disinterest, leave him wondering what is going to happen next. If anything is going to happen next. If we are actually going to have sex at all, or if I am simply going to make him stare at my newly smooth pussy all weekend.

I haven't decided myself, if I'm honest. All the plans I had for this weekend fell away the minute he walked into my flat. Now, I don't want to plan. I just want to live, to experience this, every minute of it. I spoon up some more of the ice cream. Then I part my feet slightly, arching my back so that my slit is even more exposed to him. ‘You may lick my pussy,' I say.

‘Thank you,' he says. His voice is ragged, excited. His feet are quiet on the laminate floor, but his big hands are warm when he sinks to his knees behind me and sets about pleasing me with a determination that makes me shake. He's so hungry for it, for me, as his hands grip my buttocks and spread them wide, allowing him greater access to my juicy flesh. I cover my tongue with another spoon of ice cream, so cold and sweet and delicious, as Lucas Brady licks into me, hot and hungry, and I wonder how I ever thought I could be happy with anything less than this.

Because the truth of it is that I am happy. And realising that makes it clear that I have been unhappy for a very, very long time. I know all the reasons why he is wrong for me – he is too young, too beautiful to want to be tied down to a woman so much older than him, a woman with a ticking biological clock, but right now I can't bring myself to care.

I arch my back some more, pushing my pussy more firmly against his flicking tongue, then I rest my head against the work top, unable to focus on anything but the feel of him. I dig my heels into the floor as I fight to stay upright, and when I look down between my legs I can see the flat planes of his stomach, the dark hair that dusts his thighs, the fierce jut of his erect cock.

Such a beautiful man, I think. I let him take me to completion, let him keep working at me until my hands curve into fists and punch the work top, and I swear my way through an orgasm that makes me see stars.

‘I'm not done with you yet,' I murmur, as I close my eyes and try to find some semblance of control. ‘Carry me into the bedroom.'

That extra half a stone doesn't seem to challenge his young, supple body. He is warm beneath my hands as I sling my arms around his neck, and he smiles down at me, a shy, eager smile. ‘Anything you want,' he says to me, as he lowers me down onto the bed. ‘I'll do anything you want.'

Yes,
I think.
I know you will.
I pat the bed, and he obediently lies down next to me. ‘From now on,' I tell him, ‘you get to come only when I say. Do you understand?'

He nods, slowly, those dark, dark eyes sparkling. ‘What happens if I can't control myself?' he asks. ‘What happens if I can't stop myself, and I come before you say I can?'

‘Then you will be punished.' I stroke a stray strand of hair away from his face. ‘I'm sure you understand what that will entail.' I pick up my hairbrush from the side of my bed, run it carefully through his hair, neatening those messy locks. His gaze follows the movement and I have a sudden vision of him bent over the bed, backside on fire, begging me not to stop as I spank him with the back of my hairbrush.

A shiver works through me, uncomfortable shock as I test out that new limit. It would be wrong to do that to him, wouldn't it? But the more I think about it, the more the idea excites me. I would do it if I knew it was what he wanted. I prop myself up on my elbow, gazing down at him as he lies there on top of my bed, completely naked, his body stiff, his cock erect and straining, and I look at the brush, which is curvy and shiny and hard.

I think about it for a moment longer, and then I put it back on the side table. I'm not ready to go there just yet. But I suspect that I soon will be. I stroke his cheek, his neck, trace the line of his collarbone then caress his chest with gentle, seeking fingers. And when those fingers find the hard nub of his nipple, I pinch it. Hard. His cock jerks, but he remains otherwise motionless, quietly letting me explore his body, no matter that I am still almost completely clothed, and he is naked and exposed.

His skin is so lovely that I cannot stop touching him. His lines are lean, firm, beautiful, and he has so much to teach me, I understand that now. My fingers find the rough, dark hair at his groin and I tug on it. He rewards me with another jerk of his cock, and a gasp, this time.

When I wrap my fingers around his cock and squeeze, he closes his eyes and bucks back against the bed. All those nights spent watching him pleasure himself have served me well. I can read him so easily. I stroke him with long, rhythmic pulls on his shaft until he grows impossibly thick and impossibly hard in my grasp. His balls tighten and his pulse flickers at the base of his throat. ‘No,' I whisper, leaning close. ‘You are not allowed to come, Lucas.'

His hands curl into fists and punch the mattress. He grits his teeth, his head turning to the side as I continue to tease him, but good boy that he is, he holds himself back. When I finally release my grip, he closes his eyes, panting loudly as he fights to get air.

He is so close to exploding, so close. A single touch would probably be enough to have him spurting all over my hand. The feeling is…immense. But I'm not ready to let him go, not yet. So I reach across the bed, letting him feel the weight of my breasts on his chest, and then I pull open my bedside drawer and take out the vibrator I keep hidden in there.

It was one of my first purchases, post-divorce. Big and powerful, a great purple monster. I've never used it. Probably because I bought it on impulse, and then was too scared to try it out in case I liked it.

I strongly suspect that I can't possibly like it as much as I like Lucas Brady, however. He is lying underneath me, unmoving, his chest firm underneath my breasts. I can feel the strong, healthy pound of his heart even through my layers of clothing. And it is then that I realise he is watching me. Not the drawer, or whatever I might have taken out of it, but me.

I cover his eyes with my hand, blinding him. Owning him. And then I push the button on the base of that big purple tool. The buzz fills the air and I feel Lucas stiffen underneath me, but he doesn't try to move away. He is completely at my mercy, letting me have this time, letting me have my way with him, letting me explore. I stroke the vibrating shaft over his stomach, watch the muscle contract, and then I touch it to his balls. I hold it there for a moment, then slide it lower, holding it against that sensitive spot right behind them. I hold it there until he starts to squirm. ‘Fuck,' he says. ‘Please, Meredith. Fuck, I need to come so bad. Say I can. Please.'

‘Oh,' I say softly. ‘Really?' I draw out my answer, prolonging the torture. ‘No, I don't think so. Not yet.'

‘Fucking hell,' he says.

I move the vibrator away, giving him a moment's respite before I select the next spot. That thick ridge that runs down the underside of his cock looks tempting, and I trace it until I find the spot that makes him grab the sheets and swear some more. ‘Hold on,' I tell him. ‘Hold on, and I'll let you fuck me, Lucas. You want that, don't you?'

‘Yes,' he says.

‘Yes what?'

‘Yes, I want to fuck you,' he says. ‘I want to fuck you so much, Meredith. Please…just…just let me do it. Let me pleasure you. It's all I want.'

The rough honesty in his voice quite undoes me. I throw the vibrator aside and take my hand away from his face. Our gazes meet, and then he has me on my back, my knees wide, my wet slit exposed and ready for him. ‘Shit,' he says. ‘I don't have a condom.'

‘Drawer,' I say, waving my hand in its direction. It takes him merely seconds to find one, open it, and deftly pull it on, and then he is inside me. He fills me completely, with heat and lust, with the length of his swollen prick, his hands digging into the pillow either side of my head. And then he starts to fuck me with slow, hard thrusts, each one calming me, soothing me, telling me that everything I have done to him, everything I feel, everything I want with him is right.

I ignore the aching throb in my clit, focusing completely on the feel of his cock inside me, how tight the fit. He's going to come any second now, I know he is. I wait for him to ask me if he can, knowing how desperate he is, seeing it in the flush rising up his neck and the tight line of his jaw.

But he doesn't. ‘I want to make you come,' he says. ‘I want to make you come with my cock inside you. Is thatOK?'

Oh, god. ‘Yes.' I don't have it in me to say no. He straightens up, and I lock my legs around his waist to keep him buried inside me. I wonder if he can feel the bite of my heels in his back, if he likes it. And then he reaches out and touches my face. A gentle, tender touch, something I never expected, not from him.

He is watching me intently as he moves that hand down my body, skimming over my blouse and the soft swell of my stomach before pushing it between my legs and finding the sensitive bud of my clitoris. He finds my rhythm before I do. It's glorious. He is so hard and so thick inside me, and every thrust of his body into mine makes him tremble. I don't know how he's holding himself back, but he is. Sweat glistens on his beautiful skin, that exquisite body tight with tension, and as I watch him make love to me I swear I can see something that looks like forever.

It swamps me in a rush, and the initial force of it shocks me, but I don't have time to think about it, because Lucas Brady is fucking me into an orgasm the likes of which I've never experienced before. He's picked up my vibrator and is holding it against me, letting me feel the shimmering pleasure of it as he fills me with his cock. And then I explode, loudly and completely without dignity, my entire body taken over by the pleasure of being pleasured by this man. It is fierce and all-consuming and I close my eyes, waiting for him to tell me I was too loud, that I'm embarrassing myself.

‘Can I come?' he asks, as the shockwaves are subsiding. ‘Please, Meredith, I'm so fucking hard, and you make me want to come so much. I don't know how much more I can take. I'll do anything you want. I swear. Please just let me come.'

‘Yes,' I say, too surprised to say anything else. I want that more than anything. I want him to come like this, inside me, want him to give me everything. He thrusts deep, holds still, then withdraws and thrusts again. His fingers bite into my hips, but I don't complain. I like the way it feels, the way he opens his eyes and looks down at me. I tangle my fingers with his. ‘I want you to come in my pussy,' I say. ‘Do it, Lucas. Shoot your load inside me.'

Those words tip him over the edge. He falls forwards, his body covering mine, and then with one more roll of his hips he is done. I imagine him spurting hot and thick inside me, as his breathing thickens in my ear and his weight pins me onto the bed.

We lie there in silence, waiting for the world to right itself. And it's then that I notice something. Lucas notices it too, and he pushes himself up on his elbows, staring down at me with shocked concern. ‘Meredith?'

‘It's nothing,' I say, but my voice comes out as a choked sob that says otherwise. ‘Really. I'm fine.'

‘Then why are you crying?'

I swallow, blink fast and hard. ‘Because you make me so happy.'

Chapter Seven

We spend the rest of the weekend locked in our own personal bubble of sexual happiness, and by the end of it we've fucked in every room of my flat and Lucas looks exhausted. He lies back on the sofa with a groan after we've eaten too much takeaway pizza. ‘You've worn me out, woman,' he says. ‘Do you have any idea how hard it is trying not to come? And my arse hurts.'