Hearts and Diamonds (Diamond Trilogy 2)

‘Perhaps that decision should be mine, hmm?’

She clenched her buttocks.

‘I think we should pay another visit to that little shop,’ he continued. ‘I could make the number four myself. I just need something to attach it to.’

‘I think we ought to get back to Bledburn. We’ve done everything we came to London for.’

Jason chuckled and kissed her neck.

‘I don’t see you moving off that bench, love. You seem to be taking root there.’

‘It’s surprisingly comfortable,’ she admitted. ‘And I’m too hot and sore to think about moving just yet.’

‘You’re hot all right.’ His lips found their way to her mouth.

She lay, dazed and floppy and layered with perspiration, lazily accepting his kiss, his tongue, his greedy hands all over her.

By the time he climbed over her, straddling her on the bench, and slid his uncovered cock inside her, she had forgotten everything except how her sex ached and throbbed for him. Their surroundings, their timetable, their possible company downstairs had all disappeared and she was conscious of nothing but her body and his, and the urgent need for them to meet.

His weight on her increased her temperature and made her stickier than ever, but she couldn’t have cared less. The place could have been consumed in a fireball and she’d still have nothing on her mind but the guilty, blissful feeling of him inside her, working at her, building up the friction until she had no recourse but to dissolve into her orgasm.

She lay, flattened and content beneath him, waiting for him to fill her with his own climax, longing for nothing more now than to sleep in his arms.

But of course, they would not be able to do that.

Jason withdrew and got to his feet again mere moments after pumping his seed into her, pulling on his pants and suit trousers with a hurried air.

‘Thought I heard the door go,’ he said as she peeled a cheek from the leather bench to level an unfocused gaze on him.

She blinked and tried to bring her exhausted brain and body back to life.

‘Are you sure?’

‘Yeah. Lindo’s back. Come on.’

He laughed fondly and kissed her forehead, apparently amused by how out of it she was.

‘Do I have to carry you?’

‘You might.’

But she managed to remove her dead weight limbs from the bench, sinking first to her knees on the planking floor before gathering enough energy to pull up her knickers and skirt. Her shirt was now virtually transparent, the white dobby cotton sticking to her curves in a very unkempt manner. As for her hair . . .

Still kneeling, she dragged her handbag over by its strap and took out her brush and mirror. She couldn’t get it quite back into her usual chic style, but she could at least stop it from looking as if it was plastered to her head. And her make-up . . .

Emergency blotting and reapplication was necessary, during which Jason paced the room, looking out of the yellowing roof glass at the thick skies outside.

‘You’re going downstairs into a workshop, not along the red carpet,’ he scolded, teetering at the top of the ladder. ‘Come on, for fuck’s sake.’

‘He’s going to know,’ she said with certainty, snapping her compact shut.

‘Well, of course he is. Look what we brought up here.’ Jason waved the paddle at her.

‘I don’t think I can face him.’

‘Don’t be daft. Come on.’

He came across to take her by the elbow and propel her towards the ladder.