Page 153

My hand goes up through the slit of her dress. She wasn’t lying. Nothing at all. Just her, bare and already wet. I brush my fingers along her pussy, and she shivers.

“I cannae believe you’ve been at my side all evening wi’ nae knickers on.”

I tease her for a while, slow circles of her wee clit, until her hips are chasing my hand. Then I drop to my knees and lift the velvet out of the way.

“No,” she says. “Your cock.”

I go still, my mouth millimetres from her pussy. I look up at her.

“Did Briony Sinclair just say ‘cock’?”

“I did. I’ve decided to start being more direct about what I want.”

“Good.” I don’t move. I want to hear it again, in that posh voice of hers. “Tell me again what it is you want, baby.”

“Your cock.”

“That’s right.”

I get to my feet, open my fly, and pull it out, then hitch the dress up over her hips and lift her—legs round my waist, her back pressed against the door.

I line myself up and sink into her, one long, slow thrust. She’s soaking, but she’s still tight, and I feel her stretch round me inch by inch until I’m all the way in. She gasps against my mouth.

Then I pound into her, fast and urgent. The door rattles in its frame. I’ve got fistfuls of velvet bunched at her hips, her heels are digging into my arse, and she’s making breathless wee noises right in my ear.

She’s been wound up all night. It doesn’t take long. She comes hard, her head thrown back against the door. The way her pussy clenches round my cock is enough to drive me mad, but I don’t let myself follow.

She sags against me, struggling to catch her breath. That has to be a record for her. Maybe even quicker than in the changing room. I open my mouth to tell her so.

“Don’t you dare say it,” she pants.

I grin, and I don’t.

Still inside her, I carry her to the bed, kissing her the whole way. I lay her down carefully and pull out so I can undress her properly.

It takes me a moment to find the zip, tucked into the side seam under her arm. I ease it down to her hip, and the velvet loosens round her ribs.

“Emmy was right,” I tell her, easing the velvet down. “Your tits looked amazing in this dress.” I kiss each breast as it’s revealed. “But they look even better like this.”

She lifts her hips, and I peel the dress the rest of the way off, then slip off her heels, one at a time. Now she’s in nothing but her jewellery—the silver chain, the wee green earrings, the bracelet.

“Look at you, flower girl. Fucking perfection.”

I give her tits the attention they deserve. Each one fits perfectly in my palm. I squeeze them, rolling one nipple between my finger and thumb while I suck the other, then swap, until she’s arching off the bed. Only then do I strip.

I settle over her, face to face, and push into her slowly, my forehead against hers.

Missionary. The first thing we tried, our first night, and it didn’t go well. But things are different now. She takes every inch of my cock. I lift one hand and touch her face, my thumb tracing the line of her cheek.

Long, deep strokes. That’s what I give her. Briony keeps her eyes on mine, her hands on my back.

There’s no rush tonight. I keep the rhythm going, steady as anything, until her breathing goes ragged and her nails press into my shoulders. Only when I feel her start to tighten round me do I thrust harder. Her whole body tenses, and then she shudders, moaning my name.

I let go too, pouring everything I’ve got into her. She clenches around me, each squeeze pulling another pulse out of me.

Afterwards, I stay right where I am, looking down at her while we catch our breath. I brush a loose curl away from her cheek. She smiles up at me, and there’s an expression on her face I’ve seen a lot this past month. Soft. Tender. It gets my heart going every time.

“I love you.” The words are out before I know they’re coming. I’ve never said them to a woman before. Not once.