Mistress for a Weekend

‘I don’t want to hurt you—’ she whispered shakily, leaning her hands against the stair on either side of his straining shoulders to try and redistribute the load on his back, conscious of him pressing up against the entrance of her womb, stunned by the ravishing feel of all that unrestrained power riding between her thighs.

‘The only way you can hurt me now is if you stop,’ he gritted, rocking his hips to tilt her further forward so that he could reach her breasts with his mouth. Stretching out to eagerly cooperate with his wordless demand, Nora watched the sides of the shirt billow out around his head, enclosing them in an erotic haven of filtered light, thickly perfumed with mutual desire. Thick pulses of liquefied pleasure spurted between her legs as she watched him lapping at her painfully distended nipples with his skilful tongue before drawing them fully into his hot mouth to suckle hungrily.

The end, when it came, was sublimely shattering, yet even that was infused with his unique blend of passion and devilry. As her hips began to churn and Blake’s body to quake with uncontrollable spasms he tore his mouth from her breasts and threw back his head to meet her tempest-tossed gaze.

‘Coming, ready or not…’ he rasped with impeccable timing, and Nora’s explosion of violent delight was intensified by paroxysms of helpless laughter. Which made it all the more inexplicable when, sprawling full length in his arms, weak with exhausted pleasure, she surprised them both by bursting into raw tears, sobbing into his heaving chest.

Gentle hands stroked and soothed up and down her shaking back while she apologised, shuddering hiccups causing interesting sensations in their still-joined bodies as she sought to explain away her foolish tears without embarrassing either of them with rash declarations of love, and spoiling what should be a perfect moment of post-coital bliss. Of course, a sophisticated lover like Blake would be appalled at all this excess emotion. He might even begin to fear that he had another potential stalker on his hands….

She fished beside him for the shirt which had been wrenched off in the throes of their final climactic eruption and dragged it to hide her face and blot her tears.

‘It was my first time on top,’ she said inconsequentially, sniffing into the crumpled folds.

The hand patting her back stilled. ‘And it was so awful it made you cry?’

She wrenched the shirt away from her dismayed face, causing him to utter a stifled groan as she dislodged him by squirming to sit up and impress him with her earnest reassurances. ‘No! Oh, no—it was beautiful!’ she said. ‘It’s just…Oh, I don’t know why—’

‘I would think it was obvious,’ he said kindly. ‘I’ve just given you the most spectacular orgasm of your life, and now you’ve realised what you’ve been missing out on all these years.’

‘Why you arrogant—!’ Realising he was teasing to help banish her hectic embarrassment, Nora broke off and tried to stuff his shirt into his laughing mouth. Thank God he didn’t know how close to the truth he was!

He sprang up and chased her, shrieking, up to the top of the stairs, where he snatched her up and carried her ceremoniously to his big bed, tumbling them both down on to the unmade sheets.

‘Now that I’ve finally got you where you belong, I think there’s something you should know about me,’ he said, pinning her to the luxurious mattress with a warm hairy thigh.

She ran her hands over his rough jaw, exulting in her new freedom to touch. There were other ways to express love. It didn’t have to be in words.

‘What should I know?’

He bent and nipped at her shoulder. ‘That I really am an unscrupulous brute with an insatiable appetite…for you.’

CHAPTER ELEVEN

AS LOVE-LETTERS went it was a fairly pathetic effort:

Nora,

Sorry, but I had to do it this way.

Have arranged for someone to collect you.

Call you later.

Blake

God forbid that he should have signed ‘love, Blake’ after they had just spent two whole passion-saturated days—and nights—making love with each other, Nora thought wistfully. She apparently hadn’t even ranked a ‘Best wishes’ or ‘Kind regards’, although in the circumstances a ‘Yours faithfully’ would have been nice!

He had been insatiable in more ways than one—an exciting, witty, wonderful companion, flatteringly interested in her thoughts and opinions and free with his own. He had shown her that laughter and fun could be an integral part of lovemaking and had showered her with words of passion and praise, and even tenderness, but he had been scrupulously honest. He had made no reckless promises.

Still, at least he had cared enough to leave a note, rather than just abandoning her while he raced off to oversee his all-important stock market bid. And he had lingered until after dawn to bring her breakfast in bed…a breakfast which he had proceeded to share with an ardent enthusiasm that had left his sheets gritty with toast crumbs and sticky with honey. It was while Nora was showering off her syrupy body and donning Friday’s blouse and skirt in expectation of having to scurry to work as soon as they arrived back in Auckland, that Blake had made his discreet exit.

Call you later? How reassuring! How vague. Was she just supposed to hang around at home waiting for him to bother to contact her? And what about his cavalier attitude to her job?

Turning over the square of expensive paper and finding the security alarm code scrawled on the back, Nora wondered if she was supposed to feel gratified by this example of his trust. His faith in her seemed to be sadly limited to trivialities. He would trust her with his beach house, but not with his honour? She wanted, no, she deserved, far more from him than that! She wasn’t going to let him assume that she could be packed tidily away in a convenient box until he was ready to take her out and play with her again!

Unfortunately, her search for a telephone proved fruitless—thanks, she was sure, to the one room he had kept locked. But when she went down to look through the garage she had been surprised to see the TVR still parked in its spot. For some reason Blake had taken the four-wheel drive back to town rather than his beloved sports car. A wicked little light went on in Nora’s brain. A further, more detailed, search of his bedroom turned up the car’s electronic key and after some experimentation she managed to unlock the doors and boot without setting off the alarm.

Carrying her laptop back upstairs, she plugged it into the supposedly unconnected phone line and powered up to the site of a broadband link to an ISP who also happened to be her own. She wouldn’t even have to re-configure her modem!