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“Shut up and kiss me.”
I do, and time expands and ceases to exist all at once. There is Lolly and there is me and there is skin and fire and heat.
I am the one to break away. “I want to do something for you.”
“Fuck, yes.” She says it with even more intensity than she did in the barn aisle as her thighs slide back over mine and she lowers her feet to the floor between mine. She stands before me and without ever once looking away or closing her eyes, she undoes her pants and slips them down.
My hands follow the slow curve of her hips, but my mouth slips down her front from her navel to places lower.
Her lace panties are already soaked through when my tongue finds the spot that makes her gasp and clutch at my hair. I trace a finger along the place where the wettest lace meets the tenderest skin, and when she shudders, I tease her panties down and let my tongue follow the same path. She is slick and warm, but it is her ragged breathing that guides me. After all the false starts and wrong steps and fool-headedness I have brought to the table, I listen hard, thinking only to bring her pleasure. But when her fingernails dig into my scalp, pressing my tongue closer, I taste a secret only between us two. When she pulses at my touch against that place deeper inside her, I learn a language only she can speak to me. And when my name comes first as a whimper and then something much louder and stronger, it is a satisfaction entirely shared.
ANOTHER RIDE
Mariano Arias. The Gazebo at Dottie Hainbright’s Dower House. The Cotswolds, England.
Her hands are in my hair, bunched and strong, but she shudders beneath my tongue. When she slows to a stop, whispering my name over and over, I take my knuckle and circle the place where she’s wettest, light at first, but we’re past the place where I may tease her to a crescendo. I press, still circling. The groan that escapes her is deep and guttural, my name like an entreaty. I grind my knuckles, around and around, but not in, and let my mouth work the upper reaches of her sex until she arches herself into me, begging for release. Her hand guides mine, rough and insistent, until my fingers are inside her, thrusting and curling for her pleasure. It doesn’t take long for her to buck against me, her face hidden in her hands, her teeth biting the flesh beneath her thumb.
“I…” She’s gasping and laughing, panting and glittering, hovering over me with a grin so wide it could split her face, which would only double my pleasure in seeing her pleasured. “Where did you learn to dothat?”
“I listen to you, my love. I hear the symphony of your body. It sings to me.”
She pulls me up and rests her head on my shoulder, her breath catching in her throat. “You can come and listen at my keyhole anytime.” She laughs, running her hands over me, circling my nipples, reaching over my abs and down the front of my pants. “What areyousaying, Mariano? What does this beautiful body of yours want me to know?” Her hand is over my cock. Even through the layers of my clothes, she is laser hot, and I’m breathing in tempo with her, more gasp than breath. “Are we saying undo me?” She kisses me hard and long as she unbuckles my belt. “Like this?” She pulls my zipper down and cups my balls in her hand, a finger lightly brushing that ever-so-sensitive placebetween... “Or like this?”
“Lolly!” It’s Miss Hainbright, cheerful and loud. Close.
Lolly’s hands whip out of my trousers, pulling her own on, grabbing her shirt, her bra and panties left in the dust. I grab them and stuff them in my pocket, checking my zipper, pulling my shirt out of my waistband to hide my erection, forcing my breathing back to the land of the ordinary and mundane.
“Mariano? Lolly!” Miss Hainbright has gotten closer. “The cars are leaving!”
I run my hand over my tousled hair while Lolly arranges herself.
“We should take separate cars. Back to the…” I don’t let her finish. I can’t resist pressing a kiss to her bee-stung lips. She answers my urgency, my need, with her own, but then she pulls away.
“You go with Pippa. I’ll find another ride. For now.” She slants a wicked glance at me, temptress that she is. “That way we won’t draw any attention to our…” I understand what she’s saying, but I must taste her again. I steal another kiss and am rewarded with a soft moan, her fingers clutching at my arms, then slipping down to snag the hair tie—hers—that I wear around my wrist. She smooths her hair into a ponytail, then catches my hand in hers, presses a kiss to the knuckles that so recently gave her pleasure.
“I want to give you…” She smiles, drops another kiss to my hand, her eyes never leaving mine. “Let’s ditch these sods and meet up at The Wishing Well. The old one, not the new one. Will half an hour do it?”
I’m speechless with desire. The only thing I can do is nod my agreement.
Three seconds later she lets go and sneaks out of the gazebo, and I can’t remember why I agreed to such a foolhardy plan. Anyone looking at us would be able to guess that we’relocofor each other.
She jogs left and points me right, so that we may arrive from opposite sides of the house. She wants us to be cautious and quiet, which is in my best interests too. I’m going to be on the cover ofSporting HeartiesorCountry Lovelyor some big-circulation magazine—and my boss, Gwen, has emailed to tell me she needs to have me at least appear to be“romantically available.”It will help with reservations at the resorts—I understand this. It is part of how Juliette convinced her to pay the exorbitant fee for my services. But I could not care less about sales or patronage or anyone thinking that I am free. Not anymore. I want to yell from the rooftops, LOLLY BENOIT IS MINE! THAT ONE, THERE! Creeping behind a large, English hedge. SHE’S MINE.
But Lolly has one thing right, we both work forThrills, Spills, & Kills,and it wouldn’t do to let the students know that their instructors aregetting it on,as the English say. Though we’re not; we’re getting out of here so that we can.
I don’t know where any wishing wells are in Upper Wilmington, but I will find out. After I procure a condom.
By the time I arrive at the front of the house, the guests—my students and colleagues—are bunched in the front driveway and I’m able to slip back into Pippa’s car without drawing attention to myself or my painfully obvious erection. Going down on Lolly only made me harder. You think you know yourself after years ofspanking the gorilla,but what has gone before is nothing to what Lolly has raised in me.
Pippa pokes her head in through the passenger side window. “Got your jollies, did you? Have a bit of a roll?” So much for us being subtle. “Next time, talk to your friend Pippa about how to do the nasty without anyone seeing you. It’s all about the clothes. She needs skirts, you see. And her hair? It was braided…”
“Pippa?” Mrs. Hainbright taps her on the shoulder. “Do tell me you’re going to be back tomorrow to help me with the herb garden?”
“Dottie, I wouldn’t miss your herbs for all the tea in China.” The two women air-kiss in a way I have yet to learn.
Lolly hangs at the back of the crowd, flushed and beautiful—mi estrella. Somehow, she talks in her normal, everyday voice as if she wasn’t breathless with pleasure just ten minutes ago. She flashes me a smile and turns to Henrietta, who has her hand on the door to the Jaguar.
The question of who is to ride in which car follows the English rules of:
