Highly Strung (Food Of Love 1)

Oh, dear.

She shut her eyes then, willing the sight out of her brain so she could concentrate on letting her nerves dissolve into the sizzling steam of sensuality. Ross brought her around so that her face was pressed into his shoulder, then tipped her chin up to claim a kiss. A movie star kiss, she thought, trying to deconstruct it for signs that it came from no mere mortal. But it was simply a good, workmanlike kiss. It didn’t set off any of the stars or fireworks Milan could charm out of her, but it was perhaps more like one of Evgeny’s kisses—urgent and hard and a bit over-eager.

His big hands rested on her bottom, pulling at the skirt until Lydia knew that the lower portion of her cheeks must be visible to all. He squeezed them with those movie star hands and delved between her thighs, making her stand with them slightly parted.

“Very nice,” she heard someone in the room say. “A sweet little pussy made to be fucked, there.”

“Nice bum too,” remarked a woman. “No cellulite, lucky bitch.”

With his other hand, Ross pulled aside one of the flimsy triangles of chest-covering fabric, so that one breast with its rosy nipple, tight and stiff, popped out and brushed against his suit jacket.

When Ross freed her mouth, she couldn’t help but dart a glance over to Milan, who had Natasha on the bed already, hovering over her and covering the exposed parts of her with flicks of his tongue.

“Hey, a guy could feel hurt,” teased Ross. “You’ve really got it bad for Milan, haven’t you?”

“He’s the one,” she whispered.

“But I can make you feel good too, sweet thing. Let’s get that dress off you and show you how.”

Somebody had put some music on, something primal with a low, thumping bass line. The rhythm worked on Lydia like hypnotism and she followed its lead, swaying as she held up her arms so that Ross could slip the tiny dress over her head.

She felt fingers dancing down the hollow of her back and she shivered against Ross’s body, craving a firmer touch, which he was happy to give. She ground her hips against him to the music, rubbing against the fabric of his expensive dress trousers.

Milan and Natasha had both stripped naked and were kissing passionately on the divan, their long, lean limbs sensuously entangled. The way his hair hung down over Natasha’s face sent a stab of intense jealousy to the centre of Lydia’s being. This was how he must look when he was kissing her. Why wasn’t he kissing her now?

“Okay, okay.” Ross sighed. “Let’s go and ask if we can play too.”

“I’m sorry,” Lydia whispered.

“It’s your first time. You’re hung up on this guy.” Ross kissed Lydia’s cheek, took her hand and sat her down on the edge of the divan, inches from Milan’s and Natasha’s flexing feet.

He took a few minutes to undress, making sure that Lydia enjoyed the full effect of his honed physique and mastery of movement. Oh, yes, he was stunningly good-looking—of that there was no doubt. His skin was a sun-kissed gold and every muscle stood out in clear definition. His chest, when he eased out of the crisp white shirt, was a work of art and the stomach below was flat and hard as steel.

Then her eye was unavoidably drawn to what lay beneath the jaw-dropping abdominals and she had to stare. It was pierced. Two ends of a silver crescent curved from the glans of Ross’ cock, each tipped with a rounded ball. Didn’t that hurt?

She only realised that her mouth was hanging open when Ross crouched in front of her, laughing softly.

“Take a closer look,” he invited. “What do you think of my Prince Albert?”

“That must have killed,” she breathed.

“No, not really. One of the best things I ever did. Really adds a lot to the sensation. For me and my partners. Go on—touch it.”

Lydia hardly dared put out her hand, but she brought a fingertip to the adornment and pushed at it, half-fearing that it might cause Ross to scream in agony. But he simply made a murmur of encouragement and jutted his hips forward. She handled his cock as if it were made entirely of precious metals rather than pierced flesh—delicately and with care.

“It’s okay, honey. It won’t break.”

She wrapped a fist around it and tugged.

“Oh, yeah,” said Ross, with a shudder.

An animal sound from Natasha distracted Lydia into turning her head and dropping her new toy. Milan was laving her breasts, the nipples dark berry-red and shiny from tonguing. She saw his hand, the hand she watched every day wielding a violin bow, moving subtly between her legs, knuckles rippling a

s the fingers probed.

I want that, she thought. I know what he’s making her feel. I know the way he uses his fingers.

“Yes, watch them,” murmured Ross, turning her to face them and leaning behind her with his hands on her shoulders. “Watch your lover with his fingers inside my wife. Doesn’t she look amazing like that?”