One Night in A Bar (7 page)

“Again.” Her voice was thick with pleasure, and he caught her nipple between his teeth obligingly, tugging gently. She went wild beneath him, hips thrusting as her legs wrapped around his waist. He cried out at the incredible pressure on his cock, and she yanked his hair again, bringing his attention back to her breasts.

He licked each swollen nub one more time, then broke away from her breasts and ran his hands down her sides, over her hips, removing her legs from his body. She shrieked and yanked his hair in protest, but stopped when he slid down her body.

He grinned. She knew what he was going to do. He lifted her skirt, dark pleasure filling him when he saw her naked cunt. He’d told her once that the idea of her walking around all day without panties turned him on, and now she’d sometimes surprise him. He loved that she did that for him.

Almost as much as she loved what he was about to do to her.

She pumped her hips, and he licked his lips as cream slid from her pussy.

Take it slow.

Daniel grasped her hips and licked his way down her stomach, pausing to delve his tongue into her navel, causing her stomach muscles to spasm wildly. He laid kisses across her abdomen, and she shivered when he blew across her skin. He paused.

“Daniel!”

He loved making her scream.

He opened her legs and lifted them onto his shoulders, giving himself the best angle. Her cunt was flushed dark pink and swollen, her clit throbbing with need, in time with the throbbing in his pants.

Her first.

He lowered his head and laid his mouth over her clit, sucking deeply, holding her writhing hips firmly. His tongue laved up her slit, and the hands in his hair shoved, pushing him harder against her as he lapped, a keening sound bursting from her lips.

Her hips bucked uncontrollably in his grasp. Shifting, he lay one arm across her pelvis, pinning her to the bed and freeing the other hand. He licked a path up her pussy, and this time his fingers followed, teasing their way towards her cunt, then pushing smoothly inside. Her inner muscles clamped down on his fingers, almost painfully, and he rasped his teeth gently over where she was most sensitive.

She came apart, screaming her pleasure, writhing, cunt spasming around his fingers.

When she was finally still, he slid out from between her legs and moved back up her body to kiss her.

“Hi.”

She smiled dreamily. “Hi. We’re going to be late.”

He laughed. “If you can think about the time, then I didn’t do a very good job.”

She trailed her fingers down his chest to his waistband.

“You did just fine. Still, you could always try a different approach…”

* * * *

A smile tugged at the corner of her mouth as she looked around the room. The exhibit was going perfectly. As expected, Daniel’s pieces were a sensation—especially the trilogy of nudes. There had already been half a dozen offers for them, for ridiculous amounts of money, but Daniel had stood firm on his refusal to sell. They could be shown, but not sold.

“You’ve done a great job, Karen.” She turned as John came up beside her.

“I didn’t do anything, really.” She smiled at him. So far, there had been no whispers about the nudes—Daniel really had done a good job of blurring the features. She was glad to remain anonymous, although she was pretty sure John suspected. Daniel had been adamant that they be open about their relationship.

“Yes, you did. I won’t lie to you, I was very worried at lunch a month ago when Daniel said he hadn’t finished the last three pieces, but then you took over, and look at the outcome. They’re his best work yet.”

“Thanks, John.” The gravel and whisky voice sent shivers down her spine. Daniel slipped his arm around her waist. “Personally,” he continued, “I think I can do better. I’ll just have to keep at it. Practice makes perfect.”

Just thinking about the kind of practice he meant dampened her panties.

“Excuse us, won’t you, John? I need a word with Karen.” He led her over to a quiet corner.

“What’s up? You really should be mingling, you know. The opening of a Crogan exhibit isn’t complete without Crogan.”

“In a minute. First, we need to talk.”

Dread swamped her. They hadn’t really discussed the status of their relationship, beyond agreeing to be exclusive and not hide it from their friends. Was he going to end it? Why? Everything had been going so well. They spent more time together than apart, and she’d never before enjoyed being in someone else’s company so much. She couldn’t lose him.

“Okay.” She didn’t trust herself to say anything else.

“We’ve been together for a month now. We’re amazing together. Being with you is amazing, and I don’t just mean the sex.”

Buoyed by this beginning, she nodded. “I agree. I love being with you.”

He caught hold of her hands. “Good. Great. I want you to move in with me.”

Her knees weakened, and she wobbled. “You…”

His dark eyes bored into her, emotion clearly visible. “Move in with me. I love you. I don’t want us to be apart for even those few hours a day.”

She lifted a hand and laid it on his cheek. The silky soft hairs of his beard on her skin felt achingly familiar, an instant aphrodisiac. She stroked his face, and emotion swelled in her. She couldn’t imagine being without him. In a short time, he’d become her whole life.

“Yes.”

A smile broke out on his face, and he turned his head to kiss her palm. “I love you,” she added. “I don’t think I could handle not being with you.” She lifted on to her tiptoes and kissed him, a deep, soul-scorching kiss that quickly turned into something more.

“Ahem.” They broke apart to see John standing beside them. “I hate to interrupt, but you’re starting to draw attention. Not to mention, you’re becoming a bit inappropriate.” He shot a speaking glance at Daniel’s hand on Karen’s ass. She felt heat burn its way up her neck to her face, but Daniel just chuckled, and slid his hand up to a safer position at her waist. She shivered under his warm caress, and he pulled her closer.

“Congratulate us, John. Karen and I are going to live together.”

Also available from Total-E-Bound Publishing:

Love, Interrupted

Kat Black

Excerpt

Chapter One

Thursday, 8.36 p.m.

Balancing an assortment of items including a handbag, a laptop case, document folders and grocery bags, Frankie fumbled her key into the front door lock, keen to get in out of the biting February wind.

Careful not to upset her precarious hold on her burdens, she toed the door open and stepped into the darkened hallway, crying out as her foot suddenly shot out from under her. For a frantic moment she flailed around in an attempt to regain her balance, and somehow managed to save herself and her load from ending up sprawled all over the floor.

Because wouldn’t that have made the perfect ending to a perfectly crappy day.

Pulse racing, but once again steady on her black suede heels, she jabbed at the light switch with her elbow and scowled down at the offending pile of post that was causing the slip hazard on the hall carpet. Her self-imposed workload these days meant she left the house well before the postman made his morning rounds, so she’d more or less succeeded in her efforts to forget that today was her birthday. But, judging by the number of gaily coloured envelopes littering her floor, it seemed that almost everyone else she knew was determined to make her remember.

And as well intentioned as she knew that reminder was meant to be, it only highlighted to Frankie how little she had to celebrate this year, and triggered unwanted comparisons with her last birthday—a day filled with love and laughter and lusty good fun, and a night overflowing with pleasure and passion and the positively pornographic use of chocolate frosting. Back then, she’d not only had her cake and eaten it—she’d had the sweet treat smeared on to and nibbled off the most intimate parts of her body as well. Parts that—dissatisfied with their current state of neglect—stirred into tingling life as she recollected the caress of soft, sticky fingers, and the lap of a hot, hungry tongue cleaning every last sugary smear from her quivering flesh.

What was becoming an all too familiar ache of unfulfilled need settled low in her belly, forcing Frankie to acknowledge how much had changed in twelve months—and why it was easier for her to just try to forget. She was only grateful that these days there was a cold, hard void in her chest where her heart used to be, sparing her from reliving an even worse pain.

With a weary sigh, she kicked the door shut and shuffled around the rainbow-coloured paper mountain blocking her hall, wondering if she could get away with shoving the whole lot straight in the recycling bin.

Appalled at the thought even as it popped into her head, Frankie felt a burning rush of shame at the uncharacteristic sense of ingratitude. She was lucky to have friends and family who so obviously loved her, she reprimanded herself. If she wasn’t careful, she might end up losing them—on top of everything else she’d already lost.

But that was just the problem—she couldn’t seem to bring herself to care much about anything anymore, not when she felt so damned tired all the time. Tired and angry.

Entering the sitting room, Frankie used the glow from the hallway light to pick her way around her landlord’s plain, functional furniture and unload half her burdens onto the coffee table. Taking the shopping bags with her into the kitchen, she turned on the harsh, fluorescent strip light and began unpacking the uninspiring selection of staples she’d bought by rote, storing the items away in her near-empty cupboards and fridge. After months of living there the place still had a depressingly temporary feel, reminding Frankie that she needed to make some time to get herself more settled in. Start making it less of a house, more of a home—her home—even though the basic accommodation and dated decor felt a million miles away from the comfortable, stylish riverside apartment she’d poured so much love and soul and hope into, and missed so much.

Pulling a box of chamomile tea from a bag, she considered putting the kettle on but found herself instead grimacing at the thought of the taste. It was only because her mother swore by it for calming the nerves that she persevered with the disgusting herbal beverage. A sudden loud pounding on the front door made Frankie jump, shriek and nearly drop the box, suggesting that either she wasn’t drinking enough of the stuff, or that, in her case, it wasn’t quite up to the job.

Moments later, a rowdy rendition of ‘Happy Birthday’ and the hoot of party blowers joined the pounding, and Frankie couldn’t help but smile at the terrible racket as she recognised the loudest, most off-key wailing of the lot.

“Come on, you old bag. We know you’re there!” A female voice shouted through her letterbox. “Let us in or we’ll keep singing until your neighbours start complaining.”

Which would be any second now, Frankie reckoned, given that her little rented terraced house was situated in a quiet back street full of curtain-twitching Neighbourhood Watchers.

Hurrying down the hallway and taking a moment to sweep the hazardous pile of envelopes aside with her foot, she opened the door to the sight of her five closest girlfriends, grouped tightly together and sporting an assortment of silly party hats. The noise level increased substantially when they cheered and showered her with glittery confetti, followed by warm hugs and kisses as they each pushed their way past her into the house.

“We’ve come to help you celebrate,” Jess, the ring leader and Frankie’s best friend, announced.

“So you have.” Frankie smiled at Jess’ tendency to state the obvious. “But I wasn’t expecting anyone. I haven’t got anything in.”

“That’s okay. We knew you wouldn’t have bothered,” said Sarah Two, “so we’ve booked a table for nine at that new Italian down the road.”

“And to get us in the mood—ta-da!” Karen grabbed Claire’s wrist and raised it to show off a bottle of pink champagne. “Now go get some glasses so we can toast your old age.”

As Frankie began to move away, Jess spoke again, this time in that low, careful tone of hers that instantly spelled trouble to anyone who knew her. “You’ve just got in, haven’t you?” she accused, flicking her eyes from the envelopes strewn at their feet to Frankie’s coat still buttoned up over her work suit. “You haven’t even had a chance to open your cards yet.”

Sensing the shift in mood, the four other women in the hallway seemed to draw back a pace, holding their breath and doing their best to blend into the background. Cowards.

“You know how it is.” Frankie tried for a nonchalant shrug but, recognising the look settling across Jess’ face, retreated into the sitting room quick-smart, busying herself with turning on lamps as she went. “Things have been a bit hectic at the office.”

“Only because you make them hectic for yourself.” Jess followed close behind, radiating disapproval and disappointment. “I thought we’d agreed that you have to stop this workaholic nonsense, Frankie. You need to slow down before you fall down.”

“I’ve been trying,” Frankie said, scooping up the damning evidence of her laptop and project files from the coffee table and relocating them to a less conspicuous spot “In fact, I’ve been pretty good this week. Today was just particularly heavy.”

“Uh-huh.” Jess didn’t sound convinced. “So what are all these other cards doing here?” She pointed to the pile of post that Frankie had been dumping, unchecked, on a side table, and that harboured a further selection of multi-coloured envelopes. “I’m betting these ones didn’t arrive today, which means you haven’t had time to deal with them for the past day or so, at the very least.”

Neither the time nor the inclination. But Frankie knew better than to admit either one when her friend was getting up a head of steam.

“Go easy, Jess.” Claire came to the rescue, stepping between them in an attempt to diffuse the rising tension. “The poor thing’s got more than enough to deal with as it is.” Frankie sucked in a breath, dreading for a moment that Claire was going to break the unspoken rule between them and bring up the subject that should not be mentioned. But her friend only joked, “She is
thirty
today, after all,” and, with an exaggerated shudder, gave Frankie a little shove in the direction of the stairs. “Why don’t you go wash away the city grime then get yourself back down here in something more befitting a fabulous, if rather decrepit, party girl. In the meantime, we’ll start celebrating and opening your cards for you.”