now, do we?’
Olivia smiled again. There was something so dizzyingly delicious about feeling in control.
Of course, in reality, she was far from that. She was decidedly out of control. But liberatingly so. She needed to do this more than anything she’d done in her life before. Lewis was going to give her back her self-esteem, her confidence, her very soul. He was going to revitalise her spirits and recharge her batteries. He was going to make her feel like a real woman again.
She found it surprisingly easy to free him from his clothes, marvelling at the way her non-fumbling fingers handled him so naturally, and so expertly. Not a hint of revulsion rose to spoil her skilful stroking. It was as if another person were inhabiting her body, a wildly uninhibited, chillingly expert woman of the world.
‘Olivia,’ Lewis choked out when her head began to descend.
She stopped and looked straight at him.
‘It’s all right,’ she said, and smiled. ‘Stop worrying. I won’t let you come.’
Lewis was deathly silent after that, except for the small scratching noises his nails made on the leather as his fingers curled over and over.
‘Now stay right where you are,’ she murmured at last, pushing her hair back from her face and sitting upright. ‘Promise me you won’t move, now.’
His expression was disbelieving when she abandoned him, his eyes widening when she hitched up her skirt and peeled off her stockings and panties. Olivia wallowed in the way he ogled her legs. She didn’t take off her skirt, finding a decidedly erotic charge in being nude underneath it. She didn’t take off her blouse, either. That could wait.
Turning away from Lewis’s galvanised gaze, she refilled her glass with champagne and took a deep swallow, just in case the wonderful effect of the alcohol began to wear off.
Bringing the glass with her, she returned to straddle Lewis’s lap with her knees, glad now that her conservative skirt was not too tight. Even so, it rode up her thighs quite a way to accommodate her position. Staying kneeling upwards so that their bodies weren’t actually contacting, she tilted the champagne to her lips once more.
‘I think I might need some of that,’ Lewis muttered hoarsely.
‘Be my guest,’ she said, and handed him the glass. He drained it, then dropped it over the back of the sofa to clatter against the other discarded glass.
‘I have to warn you,’ he said thickly, ‘that I don’t have any protection on me.’
‘I noticed that,’ she said with a dry little smile, and started undoing the buttons on her blouse.
‘This is crazy, Olivia.’
‘Calm down, boss. This is good old Olivia here. Do you think I’d ever be a health hazard?’
‘Not usually...’
‘Nicholas always used condoms,’ she elaborated ruefully. ‘I also started on the pill last month. I was just about to trust Nicholas, you see. Silly me! But not to worry. I trust you, Lewis. You have honour.’
‘Honour! My God, do you think this is having honour—letting you do this when I know you’re drunk, not to mention on some crazy rebound trip?’
‘Don’t underestimate your attractiveness, Lewis,’ she purred. ‘How do you know I’m not doing this because I’ve always fancied you like mad, but controlled myself because you seemed happily married? How do you know I haven’t fantasised about you every day these past six months, that I haven’t thought about you making love to me in your laboratory, or on your desk, or right here like this, with you buried deep inside me and my breast on your mouth?’ She watched him lose it then, the wildest, most primitive expression filling his face.
Knocking her hands aside, he ripped open her blouse and pushed up her bra to reveal her full, hard-tipped breasts. His hands were rough on her, his mouth hungry as he laved the nearest nipple with his tongue. Olivia tipped her head back with a low, sensual moan, her hair falling away from the arched curved of her spine. Sucking the whole aureole solidly in his mouth, Lewis pushed her skirt up to her waist, positioned himself at the entrance to her body then pulled her sharply downwards.
Olivia gasped. She wasn’t sure why men liked this position so much but she finally saw its attractions for the woman. Never had she felt so filled, her flesh totally impaled on his. Instinctively and voluptuously, she began to move, rising and falling upon him in the most incredibly pleasurable fashion.
All thought of Nicholas and revenge disappeared in the face of what was the most mind-blowing sexual experience of her life. Lewis was gripping her buttocks, squeezing them hard, urging her to a more vigorous rhythm. She obliged, her movements gradually growing more frantic.
Her head was spinning, her body burning. She could not find enough air for her pounding heart. Her mouth fell open and her cries overrode Lewis’s ragged breathing, a high keening sound which ended when the first spasm struck. Olivia sucked in sharply, her head snapping forward. Immediately, Lewis groaned and arched upwards, his flesh pulsating and pumping deep within her.
Olivia could actually feel her own flesh contracting around him, squeezing him, milking him. The sensations nearly took her head off. Eventually, he sagged beneath her and slumped back against the chesterfield.
Olivia stared at his still gasping mouth and tightly shut eyes, then down at her own semi-naked self. Gradually, her nerve-endings stopped screaming and a wave of satiation flooded her body, bringing her down from her sexual high with the suddenness of a wet sponge thrown in her face. A sickening reality replaced the wild exhilaration she’d been feeling a minute before and a cold clammy sweat broke out all over her body.
Dear God, what had she done?
Her stomach started churning over and over. Battling hysteria, she yanked her bra down over her breasts then struggled to do up her blouse. Bile rose into her throat and she knew she was going to be sick.
She barely made it to Lewis’s private washroom, just managing to lock the door behind her before she was violently ill into the toilet bowl. Even after Olivia was sure everything she’d eaten and drunk that day had left her body, more spasms struck. Beads of perspiration dotted her forehead as she hunched over in agony.
For several pain-racked minutes Olivia thought she might die. She wished she would die. Then she would never have to go out of this room and face Lewis again.
Her hand shook when she finally reached to flush the toilet. Moaning, she staggered over to the washbasin where she rinsed her mouth out with water, before sinking down into a heap on the cold tiled floor. She was huddled there, her head leaning against the vanity, when there was a thumping on the door.
‘Are you all right, Olivia?’
All right! How could she possibly be all right after what she’d just done? The shame of it all brought tears to her eyes and the most awful tightness to her chest.
‘Olivia?’
‘Go away,’ she choked out. ‘Just go away.’
‘Don’t be silly. You’re ill. I’m staying.’
‘If you don’t go right now,’ she screamed at him, ‘I...I
