wetness of my pussy should he choose to.
‘Please,’ was all I managed.
He dragged it out – cocky bad boy that he was – by sliding each finger along my drenched slit. He’d find my clit and press it or pinch it or just swirl a broad fingertip over it until I was damn near vibrating. Then he gave a grunt that told me he had reached the end of his amusement with this game. He came in close behind me, making the fine hairs along my skin hum and sway, and kicked my legs a bit further apart.
And then he was in, driving deep, filling me up and stretching me wide and gripping my bare hips in his strong hands the way that made me crazy.
‘You like it from behind, do you?’
I could only nod.
When he rotated his hips from side to side a little, making tender places deep inside me flex and grasp at him, I saw tiny fairy lights in my vision. I was holding my breath, I realised, so I exhaled. It was a shuddering, desperate sound.
‘Dirty, dirty, dirty.’ He chuckled and then his rhythm caught fire. Mack drove into me hard and fast, inching my high-heel-sheathed feet off the ground until I was a faux ballerina, only my toes touching the linoleum, the wooden table shaking with his efforts and my violent motions.
‘Yes,’ I told him.
‘Yes?’
I nodded, my hair swishing on the wood. I could hear his suit trousers whispering as he pounded into me. His thumb found the tight star of my anus and I froze before relaxing into the bite of pain and shoving back to force his hand. He slid into me further there, so the hint of pain amped up the rush of pleasure.
‘Yes, yes,’ I countered, laughing a little.
It made no sense. It made perfect sense.
‘You’re so dirty you’re pushing me past my limit, Gretch.’ There was humour in his voice, but something more.
Truth.
His thumb pushed deeper, his motions frantic. He wiggled his thumb in my bottom and rasped, ‘Touch yourself.’
He didn’t have to tell me twice. I got my arm under my body, thinking wildly how insane and inappropriate this all was. And how fucking perfect and exciting as well.
Rubbing my clit in greedy little bursts I felt him go rigid and, when he uttered, ‘Fuck me hard,’ I came. His orgasm nipping at the heels of mine as he thrust so hard my pretty taupe shoes actually did leave the floor and we were both laughing.
‘Wow … wow …’ I stayed sprawled across the table. There was a tickly sensation as he ran his finger up the zipper of the dress and then stroked the bare skin of my back above the fabric.
‘Wow is a good start.’ Mack pulled free of me and backed up so I could right myself.
When I turned to him, the red in my cheeks was flagrant.
‘So?’ I cleared my throat. ‘Do you like any of those options? The dresses?’ I fluffed the pink skirt and shifted a little, every filthy thing we’d just done running through my head.
‘I liked them all,’ Mack growled, pulling me in gently by the delicate bodice. ‘Have to admit, though, the pink was my favourite.’
I smiled. ‘Mine too.’
‘And you look really great in it.’
‘Thanks.’
He kissed me, his tongue stroking mine for a minute. Then, ‘I was thinking, maybe you’d like to go to a tea party.’
‘But that girl –’
He grabbed my ass and kissed me again. ‘She’s just a girl.’
The Game’s Afoot
Rose de Fer
‘Jake? Aren’t you going to get dressed?’
Lauren stood staring at her husband. He was slumped in front of the telly in baggy tracksuit bottoms and a T-shirt he’d had since the 80s.
‘Break his bloody legs, the cheating bastard!’ he shouted at the screen. ‘Huh? What, babe? Aw shit, was that today?’
He looked up at her with an expression of dismay that might have matched her own. She could see the effort it had already cost him to tear his eyes away from the match, could sense his horror at the possibility that he might actually have to switch it off and go with her to visit her sister.
How should she play this? Insist and suffer his resentment all afternoon – and probably the rest of the week? Or let him off and pretend to be satisfied with the inevitable flowers and a promise of dinner at the weekend? Why did everything have to involve so much calculated manoeuvring? If she’d known married life would turn out to be an endless strategy game, she’d have stayed single.
‘It’s OK,’ she said finally. ‘Really. Maria and I can just –’
She hadn’t even finished her sentence when Jake’s attention was reclaimed by the TV.
‘What? That was a fucking mile offside!’
Lauren sighed. ‘Right, well, I’ll see you later,’ she said and turned to go. If he said goodbye to her, she missed it in the barrage of profanities that followed her out the door.
She didn’t blame Jake for forgetting about the lunch date. Maria could be tiresome. All she wanted to talk about was her ongoing attempts to get pregnant and Lauren found herself secretly hoping it would never happen. She didn’t get on with babies and didn’t want to have to hurt her sister’s feelings by refusing to play doting auntie if and when the time came.
After an interminable lunch, Lauren found herself resenting both her sister and her husband for spoiling her day.
She wasn’t ready to go home and face Jake again. He’d either be grieving or celebrating and neither was likely to do anything for her mood. So she took herself to the mall, where she decided a little retail therapy would at least make her feel like the day hadn’t been a total loss.
Her first stop was the bookstore, where she succumbed to the temptation of a three-for-one offer. She hadn’t finished the novel she was currently reading and she already had a teetering to-be-read stack on her bedside table. But she wasn’t going to let that stop her. How many computer games had Jake bought over the years that he’d never even played?
She tried on sexy shoes and dresses as she made her way through the shops, but her heart wasn’t really in it. Where could she wear those four-inch leopard-print heels and clingy little black dress anyway? Dinner at the pub? There was certainly little danger of Jake taking her somewhere posh like the theatre. Or even out dancing.
The last time she’d gone comfort shopping she’d picked up a slinky black lace nightie, hoping it would spur Jake into action. If he would put even half the energy into sex that he put into berating referees and players on the telly she’d be a happy woman. But after making a few initial noises of appreciation, he’d merely gone through the
