He answers by tightening his hold at my waist. I’m dimly aware that one of his hands is lightly brushing my side, and I want tomelt.
My hands are stroking the nape of his neck, and the next thing I know, I’m running my fingers through his hair. It’s too short to grab, and all I can think is howsoftit is. It’s a shock because the rest of him is so damnhard.Including in the trouser department. I can tell because I’m lifting one leg trying to mount him like some sort of hussy.
His knuckle brushes the underside of my breast, and a bolt of desire shoots through me. I slip my fingers inside the neck of his shirt and find a shoulder blade. I scrape my nails across his skin, half-caress, half-scratch and it’s like a magic switch that ramps him up a gear. His hand hooks under my knee and yanks me flush to his body. Only the thin cotton of my knickers separates me from the fly of his jeans, and, dear God, I’m grinding against him. In a matter of seconds, I’ve gone from zero to ready-to-blow, and I am one enormous, aching, shameless throb.
It’s like I’ve been driving a sensible family car, and now I’ve been given the keys to a Ferrari. Compared to other boys, Mark’s from another league. Scratch that – another planet. And he kisses like it’s his last night on Earth.
One hand grabs my buttocks, urging me to keep rubbing myself against him. His other hand squeezes my breast throughmy dress. I must make a noise that encourages him because he dips his fingers under the fabric and finds my braless nipple.
He groans and walks us backwards until he’s sitting on the sunbed.
‘Get back on me.’
I straddle him, and he pulls down the straps of my dress to expose my breasts.
‘Jesus. Fuck.’ His voice is strangled.
I had no idea I could make a man sound like that.
He alternates between kissing and sucking as I grind against his fly.
His hands are pressed to my buttocks, adding more pressure and giving me something to push against.
I start to feel my climax building, and I grab his shoulders tightly, desperate to keep the rhythm going.
I’m so close.
When I look down, he’s gazing at me open-mouthed.
‘Keep going, beautiful,’ he whispers, then he licks my nipple and bites it lightly. It’s all I need to push me over the edge.
I throw my head back as my orgasm rips through me.
He holds me until all the shudders subside. I’m vaguely aware that the lights are back on.
‘I’ve never …’ I whisper. He frowns. ‘Usually, I can only … when I’m by myself.’
Then, the door bursts open.
‘Fuck,’ mutters Mark.
‘My bad,’ a voice trills. And the door closes again.
Mark lifts me off him and puts me on my own shaky legs.
‘This didn’t happen. I was never here.’ His breath is coming in short bursts. ‘I’m sorry. I’ve got to go.’
He can’t get out fast enough, only pausing to grab his bag and jacket.
‘Byeeee, handsome,’ trills the same voice outside.
I straighten my dress, then gingerly walk out.
It’s Jake. ‘Darling, I am so sorry. I had no idea you were in there with that stud muffin. I hope I didn’t ruin it. Although from the tiny bit I saw and heard, you seemed to be having averygood time.’
Oh my God. He saw? Heheard?
The door to the house opens, and Yan appears.
