Dain grins. ‘Ah, you’re up to that bit. Yes, you’d be surprised. The Victorians were totally into it. Nipple piercings too. I’ve done my research.’
I hate to think what his browser history is like on his laptop. Yes, he now has one after I pointed out that Bridget would be able to edit a lot faster if she didn’t have to type up his handwritten manuscripts first. He seems to be coping OK, and his fingers are a lot less inky. Wi-Fi is his latest concession to the twenty-first century, and it’s coming next week. Speaking of coming ... My eyes flick ahead to anticipate what might happen in this book so I can control my pounding pulse.
‘Don’t skim, Lizzy. You have to read it properly,’ Dain urges.
So I read a few more paragraphs, but soon, I have to close it as my blood pressure spikes again. I blow out a breath, my cheeks flushing. ‘God, it’s really spicy! How do you write this stuff?’
He shrugs. ‘I’m simply a vessel supplying what my readers want.’ His dark eyes twinkle mischievously. ‘Good though, isn’t it?’
I put the book to one side, trying to calm down. No wonder Bridget liked it. Racy indeed ...
‘Yes, but I can’t read any more, not while you’re watching me.’
‘OK, sorry.’ His lips twitch.
‘I’ll carry on later.’
‘Sure.’
I put the book on the floor and consider picking up my laptop, but I’m so turned on I can’t think straight; working is out of the question. Dain keeps reading with a knowing smile. After a few minutes, he undoes yet another button on his vicar shirt; and it gapes open, exposing his smooth chest and strawberry-pink nipples. I gulp. The crafty devil. He’s weakened my defences with his book on purpose.I’m in so much trouble ...Ignoring him, I close my eyes and pretend to rest.
Another few minutes later, he comments, ‘Gosh, it’s hot in here.’ I open my eyes to find Dain is now shirtless and has loosened his trousers. He stretches his arms above his head, and heat flows over me in waves as I gaze at his half-naked body and the tip of his glistening cock poking out of his pants. Fuck, he’s so sexy. My mouth waters. I want him. Correction: Ineedhim.What’s left of my wall of resolve crumbles in a puff of masonry, and I fall upon his crotch, licking what I can see and tugging down his trousers until he’s properly out and I can take him fully into my mouth.
Caught by surprise at my fervour, Dain quickly recovers and arches his hips, driving deeply into my mouth and letting out a long low moan of appreciation as I suck him hard.
After a few minutes, I reluctantly abandon his cock because I don’t want him to come yet. I kiss my way up his chest to his neck, keeping one hand lightly stroking his shaft. He eases my leggings down and slips a hand into my knickers.
‘Wow, you’re really wet,’ he whispers as I nuzzle his cheek.
‘I wonder why,’ I mutter. ‘If your fans are as sexually deprived as I am, that book is going to be a bestseller.’
‘Sexually deprived? Oh no, how terrible. We need to remedy that.’ He squeezes my clit, and I gasp as heated electricity swirls around my groin. Then I mewl in pleasure as he starts fucking me with his fingers.
‘So do you want to go upstairs or make love by the fire, oh, sexually deprived one?’ he enquires in a husky whisper.
‘Fire, please, fire,’ I pant. I’m burning up anyway.
Possessed by a feral need I can’t even begin to understand, I don’t bother wasting time by taking off my leggings. Pulling them halfway down my thighs, I clamber on top of him, groaning as he inserts his slick length into my wet, needy pussy, adjusting my hips until he’s all the way in.
‘Ohh, Lizzy, yessss, oh, my love,’ he moans. The feeling of his hard cock moving inside me is exquisite; and soon, I’m a sweaty, wild-haired mess, rutting and rotating my hips. I can’t get enough. But we’re too turned on for it to last long. Dain’s breathing shallows, and his lovely lust-soaked eyes lock on mine as our bucking hips reach a crescendo, and we crest the wave of ecstasy together. My lips part in silent rapture, and he thrusts harder, crying out in pleasure as his orgasm hits; warmth gushes into me, and my shuddering core opens, welcoming all of him.
I collapse onto his chest, breathing hard enough to burst and to be honest, reader, slightly scared. ‘What the hell was that?’ I utter.
Dain kisses the top of my head and smooths down the back of my ruched-up T-shirt.
‘Don’t be afraid, my darling. It’s love and passion,’ he says, then pauses thoughtfully and murmurs, almost to himself, ‘Yes ... love and unbridled passion on the moors ...’
Hmm, why do I get the feeling this could be the title of his next novel?
Chapter 28
It will be well, we wish it to be so.
(Emily Brontë, diary paper)
Sure enough, a couple of days later, Dain is furiously typing in a blaze of excited energy, which is rubbing off on me. He tells me book 2 is a second chance romance, where Azalea and Nathaniel discover they can’t live without each other. Apparently, it’s even spicier than the first. I’m not quite sure how that will be possible, but he’s the raunchy romance writer, not me.
I suppose our antics could be inspiring him. Yesterday, he bent me over the sink into the washing-up water and took me from behind—twice! Once in the morning, fully clothed; the other in the evening, half naked, with my bare breasts dipping into the warm water and him fingering my slippery nipples and clit to heighten the pleasure. It was pretty fantastic. But when I came, gasping, I almost choked on a mouthful of suds, which wasn’t so pleasant.
