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"Never really thought about it, but I guess so. Our parents retired to Spain, so I watch out for her. Jim, Carol's husband, he's a great guy, and a real computer genius, but he has no business sense." He winked.
She nodded, but her eyelids were lowered, hiding her reaction from him. It was as if she wanted to know, but didn't.
"So...I take care of that side of things for them. We share a business, a computer business. Mail order and shop. Our parents are flying in soon enough though, to meet their first grandchild."
She had knelt up and was moving dishes about on the coffee table, for no real reason. Had he said too much?
"What about you? Family?"
She shook her head and put a plate of snacks in between them. "I share a flat with two friends. My mother lives on the south coast. She has a guest house there. That's it." She reached for a glass and swigged champagne.
He could tell she didn't want him to pry any further, so he turned his attention to the food. "Looks good." He wasn't hungry at all, but he knew she'd have to feed him and that was going to be something.
She nodded, pleased, and lifted the flute of champagne to his lips. It was chilled and delicious, hitting the back of his throat in a flavor-filled froth. She'd spared no expense, and she said she worked in a gym. Could she really afford this? She said it was her holiday money. She wanted this badly enough, he didn't miss that. But he was going to make Daniel pay her back.
She fed him asparagus spears and caviar on delicate thinly sliced toasts. "Good?" she asked.
"Oh, yes." It was all very luxurious, but he barely noticed. His concentration was on her, her fingers at his mouth, her lips parting when he ate the food from her fingertips. It was erotic, with her so sexily dressed and that look of satisfaction she had about her. Sex made her look different. More relaxed maybe, or mellow.
And there was the fact that he kept getting flashes of her pussy through the transparent material of her panties, when her robe shifted. He could see the soft, dark hair at her groin. It drew his attention to the groove where he was longing to bury himself. She might have dressed him for "après-sex canapés," as she called it, but, as far as he was concerned, she was still dressed to be fucked—gloriously fucked.
The champagne seemed to kick in, and she sprawled out on the fur rug, lying on one side, her legs elegantly aligned, toes pointed, her ankle seeming to invite a kiss.
"You took a risk, setting this up," he said, curious.
The champagne had definitely got to her. Her eyes had a dreamy look about them. "Yes, but if you'd walked out on me, I still had the suite to enjoy." She didn't seem surprised by his comment.
He supposed people remarked on her devil-may-care attitude a lot. "It was a crazy thing to do."
"Like I said before, life is short. I like to have fun." Her gaze ran over him. "Nothing to lose," she murmured.
"And everything to gain?" He chuckled.
She shook her head, not smiling. "Just nothing to lose. That's the way I like it."
The laughter faded on his lips. Why did that make his chest feel heavy? He sensed her creating distance between them again. She was wary, wary of getting close.
"But you came after me."
She stared at him for a long moment before she replied. "For one more night, Tommy, one more night."
"But you came after me," he insisted. She had to want more.
She reached over and silenced him with a kiss, but it was too late. He knew. She was as prickly as a wounded hedgehog, and she'd rolled into a ball so he couldn't pick her up. Don't press her, he warned himself. He felt something hankering inside him, though. Need. He wanted to carry her to the bed now, and every night. He wanted to keep her in his arms. Instead he returned her kiss and when she moved back to lie on her side again, he got to his knees and bent down to kiss her ankle, where it had attracted his attention earlier.
She gave a pleasured sigh, and he knew he was back on track. He stroked the top of her foot with one knuckle, his bound hands useless to do more. Tracing the curve of her calf muscle with his lips, he breathed across her skin. She trembled beneath him. He kissed the side of her knee, and then leaned over and tongued the back of it. Her hands clutched at the rug, her fingers so pale, digging in against the black fur.
Moving up her thighs, he breathed in the aroma of her pussy. It was intoxicating, so seductive to him. W
ith his tethered hands, he traced the camber of her back, where it dipped and then flared at her hips. Her bottom was perfect, soft and firm. He bent his head and ran his tongue over the surface of her panties, gratified when he heard her give a whimper of frustration. She wanted it. So did he.
His dick was practically poking through his jeans, his lower back aching with restraint. He licked her belly, dipping into her navel and shuffling up on his knees to reach beneath her breasts, where her skin was salty. He took the rigid peak of one nipple into his mouth, exploring its knotted surface with his tongue.
She was on her back and undulating against the rug, her body arching. Then her fingers moved to stroke his hair and when he glanced up he saw that she had lifted her head and was looking at him, her expression intense, her lips parted with anticipation.
He turned his face into her fingers and kissed them. "Untie me, please," he whispered. "I need to be inside you."
"Show me how much you want it," she whispered, propping herself up and nodding at his hands where they were bound.
