That Filthy Book (23 page)

He loved it that way.

Breathe. Be calm. He’ll be here soon.

I brought Jack to mind again, cursing when the vision of him filled my mind, all blond beauty and smooth, hard muscle. The sight set my clit throbbing harder, and along with the imagery of Kline prowling about downstairs, a smile on his precious lips, I reached a hand downwards again.

No. Don’t.

I folded my arms once more, fingers squeezing my elbows, and lost myself in the rhythmic pulse fluctuating in my neck. Listened to the sound of it as it thudded, a loud drum inside my head and chest, matching my heartbeat that squandered the chance to pump my blood at a more languid pace. God, this was difficult, staying put and waiting. I hated yet loved it. Wanted it yet longed to flout the rules and throw myself at Kline.

Fuck, the things he does to me…

A smile came then, slow to spread but nonetheless full of happiness, and I closed my eyes, giving in and listening out for him. I shouldn’t fill my mind with another man when my own was the one who meant the most to me—the one who had promised to take me to a place I craved, to keep going until I got there. Would I reach that special place? Abandon all thoughts that had always ensured I was shut out before? Know that sensual, mind-blowing experience, where nothing mattered except the enjoyment of what Kline was doing?

I vowed to try.

Another shuffle reached me, louder this time. A shoe on carpet? Stair carpet? My stomach rolled over—God, he was going to send me crazy if he wasn’t careful—and abruptly the room spun and tilted, my equilibrium shockingly shot to pieces. I breathed through my nose in order to stop the reel that threatened to pitch me out of the window, and grabbed the frame to steady my swaying body.

It was too much, this waiting.

“Anna?”

His voice floated towards me, sending shivers through my body and springing goose bumps up on my skin. I sucked in a breath through my mouth and released it slowly, judging by the volume of that one word that he was at the foot of the stairs.

“Are you touching yourself?”

I shook my head even though he couldn’t see me. “No.”

“Thinking kink, then?”

Another head shake. “No.”

“Are you
sure?
”

He was closer now, I could feel it, the hairs on my arms standing up a good indication of that. How he had learnt the pattern of the stair creaks in just under a month amazed me, but I shook my head at that thought. Why
would
it amaze me? Kline
always
worked things out in advance,
always
played our games in his head long before they became real.

Which was why our trysts worked so perfectly.

“So, did you behave yourself today?” he asked, voice a little louder.

“Yes.” The hairs on the back of my neck bristled.

“You didn’t masturbate
at all?
” He sounded amused.

“No.”

“So tonight you’ll be more than ready.”

“I am now.”

He chuckled, a sexy burble that almost forced me to sit on the window seat. My knees—he’d weakened them again just by his words—and my squeezing of elbows did nothing to stop the shake in my fingers. I smoothed my hands up and down my arms to eradicate the pimples, to lay the hairs back down. It was a downright sin that he had the capability to do this to me, to send me off-kilter, drowning with wanting him.

“And are you naked like I asked?”

Oh, God, he was so close now. I didn’t dare turn to check whether he filled the doorway, gaze travelling up and down my body, him taking in the sight of me at his leisure. I wanted that moment where he came up behind me, placed his hands lightly on my shoulders, unexpected and delicious. I wanted it so badly I whimpered.

“Ah, I see you
are
naked.”

Fuck, he’s here. He can see me.

My knees jolted, and I forced my legs straight, pushed myself to damn well get a grip and stop melting so quickly. The point of the evening ahead would be wasted if I came now. But then soft, airy warmth bathed my neck, sending ripples of desire down my spine and awakening the goose bumps again. Telling myself off had taken my attention away from his silent glide across the room, and as he reached around to cup my breasts, his hands hot and gentle on my flesh, I nearly lost it. His lips meeting the side of my neck sent a shock of yearning to my core, and I moaned, praying that he did no more than that. If he did, there would be no turning back.

I would come.

He spun me to face him, held me at arm’s length as his gaze raked my body from head to foot, then back again to linger on the damp curls between my legs. I sucked in a breath at the sight of him, so close yet too far away for me to lean forwards and kiss his lips, his cheeks, his jaw.

“Excited, Anna?” he asked, a predatory smile appearing as he lifted his eyes to meet mine.

“Yes,” I managed.

He glanced at the suitcase, then down at the smaller valise beside the bed that held our toys. “We won’t be needing that toy case tonight. I have…other things in mind.”

Oh, God, he was teasing me so much I didn’t think I could hold out any longer. “Other things?”

He drew one hand down from the top of my arm and thumbed a nipple. Tender, loving strokes. I wanted to scream for him to pull them, tug them so hard like he usually did. He changed his caress as though he’d read my mind, flicking the nipple with stronger force.

“Oh, yes. Things you’ll love. Things we haven’t used before.”

I stared at him, mind racing with possibilities, but I couldn’t utter a word. His presence, his scent—cologne spiced with the sweat of excitement—and his
flick-flick-flick
on my nipple suffocated any words I might have said.

Instead, I stared at him some more, taking in the swell of his cheekbones, the arch of one eyebrow as he looked back at me, totally in control, with me totally at his mercy.

Bastard. You beautiful, sexy bastard.

He smiled wider, winked, and if I didn’t get us out of this room, the hotel reservation would be wasted for tonight.

“Get dressed,” he said, taking his hands off me and turning his back.

The command and his action made my cunt ache.

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About the Authors

Lily Harlem

Lily Harlem lives in the UK with a workaholic hunk and a crazy cat. With a desk overlooking rolling hills her over active imagination has been allowed to run wild and free and she revels in using the written word as an outlet for her creativity.

Lily’s stories are made up of colourful characters exploring their sexuality and sensuality in a safe, consensual way. With the bedroom door left wide open the reader can hang on for the ride and Lily hopes by reading sensual romance people will be brave enough to try something new themselves–after all, life’s too short to be anything other than fully satisfied.

Email:
[email protected]

Natalie Dae

Natalie Dae is a multi-published author in three pen names writing several genres. She lives with her husband, children, and three cats in an English village. She writes full time and is also a cover artist and blog designer. In another life she was an editor. Her other pen names are Sarah Masters and Charley Oweson.

Email:
[email protected]

Lily and Natalie love to hear from readers. You can find their contact information, website and author biography at
http://www.total-e-bound.com
.

Also by Lily Harlem

Thief

Escape to the Country

Christmas Crackers: Candy Canes and Coal Dust

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Bollywood: The Unwholesome Adventures of Harita

Also by Natalie Dae

A Gentleman’s Harlot

Fantasies Explored: Think Kink

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