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‘I see you keep yourself well stocked here.’ He noted the sarcasm. Was she jealous? Why should that please him? ‘So I’m not the first to be invited to Art’s gypsy love nest?’
He smiled at the indignant tone. Unlike other women, an arsey Ellie turned him on – probably because everything about her turned him on.
He’d never had sex with anyone at the farm, not since Alicia. But he wasn’t going to tell her that, and give this moment too much significance.
‘Do you want to talk about my past conquests?’ He picked up the box and tore off the packaging. He tossed out a couple of foil packages, and handed her one. ‘Or do you want to do the honours?’
She took the offering, unfolding her arm from across her breasts. The soft mounds jiggled, the puckered nipples making his straining erection pound harder.
‘Pretty full of yourself aren’t you, Dalton?’ she said, as she ripped the package open, and pulled out the rubber.
Taking her shoulders, he pressed her back onto the bed and climbed up to join her. ‘If you shut up for two seconds, you’re going to be pretty full of me, too.’
She chuckled. But the sound turned to a gasp when he cupped her breasts, the hard nubs of her nipples pressing into his palms.
He watched intently as he played with the tips, and her snarky smile softened. Her breath released on a sob as he kissed her collarbone, then trailed his tongue down to circle the dark rigid areolas. First one, then the other.
At last he nipped with his teeth, loving the feeling of her quivering beneath him, and the sight of her flushed with need as she bucked off the bed. He held her steady, until her palm wrapped around his erection.
He tried to draw away. He didn’t want this to be over too soon.
But Ellie had other ideas, her fingers closing around him, running down to the base then gliding to the tip. Her thumb circled, touching and stroking.
He swore against her neck, pumping into her touch. She let him go and pushed against his shoulders.
His eyes flew open, to find her face close to his, the blush blossoming on her cheeks, her hair wild and untamed, her eyes reflecting the fierce desire knotting his gut. She pressed a hand to his shoulder. He rolled away and lay on his back, then, to his amazement, she bent over and licked his erection.
The groan guttered out, rising up through his torso, sawing out of his lungs.
He gathered her hair, to watch her, the sweet glide of her tongue both tentative and somehow determined.
He’d been given head before. But this felt like more. Too much more. The quick exploratory licks gathering his taste, making his whole body jerk with a joy that reached into his soul.
‘Bloody hell, Ellie, you have to stop.’ He cradled her cheeks and lifted her head. Her gaze connected with his then darted away.
Suddenly she was climbing off the bed, rushing round to scoop up her clothes. ‘I knew this would be a disaster.’
He lay for a moment in a state of stunned disbelief. Where had this come from? What had he done wrong? He jackknifed off the bed and went after her. Grabbing her shoulders, he pulled her upright.
‘What’s up?’
She stood with her back against his chest, shaking, her arms clasping her clothes to cover her breasts. ‘I told you, I’m rubbish at this.’
He looped her hair round her ear, pressed a kiss to her neck, where her pulse fluttered furiously. ‘Who told you that?’
Why would she even think that? Was this something to do with the husband she was divorcing?
‘You did.’ The unsteady voice cut through his rising irritation. ‘You just asked me to stop.’
He shifted her round in his arms, keeping a tight grip on her in case she tried to bolt again. ‘Only because I guaranteed you an orgasm,’ he explained, reaching for practicality again. ‘That means you get yours first.’
She had her head down, clutching her clothes.
‘You can see what you do to me,’ he said, the straining erection trapped against her belly. ‘Does that look like I’m not enjoying it?’
Her head came up at last. The fierce flush of embarrassment on her face somehow brave and yet stoic with determination. ‘I was joking about the orgasm,’ she said. ‘I probably won’t have one. I don’t usually. Please don’t make a big deal of it.’
He so would make a big deal of it. What was the point of illicit sex if she didn’t get off on it too? But he checked his thoughts, feeling the rigid tension in her shoulders, seeing it on her face. The first order of business was to take the pressure off, or neither one of them was going to be getting an orgasm tonight.
