A Taste of Passion. Ashley Lister
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The sensation of his firm hands, sliding easily and confidently against her stiff nipples, was almost too much. She felt dizzy from the electric thrill of his caresses teasing at her breasts and pushing her closer and closer to a point of sensational, sexual climax.
Her breathing deepened.
Her heartbeat quickened.
She moved her legs a little further apart for him.
The pressure of his erection seemed larger than before. When she traced it with her fingers, clutching hungrily at his groin as she tried to discover more about him, her longing grew unbearable.
The tips of her fingers found the zipper of his pants. As she continued to steal kisses from his lips, Trudy tugged the zipper downwards. It took a moment of fumbling but, finally, she released his erection.
‘Ms McLaughlin!’
She caught her breath, shocked by how exciting it was to hear him call her Ms McLaughlin whilst they were engaged in such an intimate act.
‘Was that really what you wanted to do?’ Bill asked.
‘Hell, yes.’
They chuckled together as her fingers explored his shape. He was long and hard and hot in her palm. The pulse contained within his length throbbed with a determination that matched her own avaricious desire.
Trudy drew a faltering breath and silently begged him to satisfy her. She stroked her fingers lightly and lazily along his exposed length. The shaft undulated in response.
His hand had crept up the inside of her panties.
With one artful caress he stroked her sex’s centre. Absently, as though he was a master of such subtle movements, Bill teased the crotch to one side and slipped his middle finger against the hot folds of her lips. The sensation of his bare flesh touching her most intimate parts was enough to heighten and exacerbate her need.
She groaned.
His other fingers, so close to her centre, teased through the light down of hairs that coated her sex. She could feel the whisper of his knuckles brushing against the curls and teasing the follicles. Every suggestion of sensation seemed somehow amplified and more intense than anything she had ever previously experienced.
The one finger that rested at the lips of her sex pressed forward.
Trudy moaned.
The folds parted for him, giving up the secret of her sex in a flush of greedy, moist arousal. When he dared to press the finger more firmly against her, and then push it inside, she almost screamed with the rush of satisfaction that threatened to erupt.
She pulled him close to her face and devoured his mouth.
He returned the kiss, the intimacy clearly made difficult because of his broad smile and the awkwardness of their posture.
She had been holding his erection, savouring the sensation of his length sitting in her palm. With the thrill of his finger sliding into her sex she had lost her hold on him. Hurriedly, almost panicked, she fumbled between their bodies and found the thrust of his hardness. He still had a finger inside her, its gentle movement pushing her close to unexpected heights of elation.
But she wanted more.
Much more.
Without allowing herself to think about the consequences, only certain that she needed him, Trudy pulled him towards herself.
He placed a hand between them.
‘Let’s be safe about this, shall we?’
The finger that had been filling her sex was suddenly pulled away. It left an aching emptiness that she needed him to fill. She didn’t understand why he had stopped or what he meant by ‘safe’ until she saw him produce a condom. She nodded consent as he slipped the sheath from the pack and then unrolled it over his hardness. A moment later he was pressing the firm end of his erection back against the sopping lips of her sex.
She could not recall ever being so desperate to have someone inside her.
‘Are you sure?’ he whispered. Even lowered, his voice was textured with authority. The gritty timbre of his northern accent was a thrill against her ear. ‘Are you sure you want this?’
Trudy could not recall being more sure of anything. Ever.
She hooked her heels behind him and urged him closer. As he adjusted the position of the end of his hardness against her sex she waited for a heartbeat, savouring the anticipation as she held him on the verge of penetration.
The prospect of what she knew was going to come was intoxicating.
‘I’m sure,’ she told him.
He grinned, unhurried and clearly happy to wait for her to take the lead on this occasion. Slowly, Trudy eased herself onto him.
The rush of pleasure was instantaneous. Trudy could feel his thickness spreading her inner muscles wide and filling her. The aching need for satisfaction was replaced by the certain knowledge that he had already pushed her to the brink of climax and beyond. Her body pulsed through a cataclysmic rush of release from the simple act of his slowly sliding into her.
Was he really such a good lover? Or had she been secretly harbouring a desire for William Hart and this was the fulfilment of a previously unspoken fantasy? Trudy couldn’t decide which explanation was the more likely.
In that moment she knew it didn’t matter.
All that mattered was the satisfaction of the experience.
She pressed her kisses more ferociously against his mouth. When he pulled her closer, his strong hands holding the base of her spine and the back of her neck, she felt a second explosion of euphoria rush through her being.
It was another orgasm. Another monumental release.
A flood of excitement rushed from her sex. The waves of pleasure wracked her frame. They left her trembling with a delight that tingled in every extremity. The release was so powerful she feared she might pass out. Her inner muscles rippled with a flurry of ecstatic responses that were so intense she wasn’t sure if they were divine or devastating.
She only knew she wanted more.
But, as she basked in the afterglow of her orgasm, and as she savoured the insistent rhythm of him riding back and forth inside her, Trudy could hear the intermittent beep of her smartphone’s alarm. She groaned inwardly when she realised the alarm was telling her that the muffins were now ready.
Trudy was determined to take on the quad killer. That would be this morning’s challenge. She tiptoed quietly around Eldorado, the house she shared with Donny and Charlotte, as she readied herself to do battle. She didn’t want either of her friends to know what she was doing. Today the quad killer would be a private test: something that she needed to do on her own.
Charlotte’s parents had generously subsidised the rental of Eldorado, allowing the trio to reside in a substantial, attractive property in a fairly exclusive location. Trudy and Charlotte had rooms on the upper floor whilst Donny lived in the converted basement. The ground floor was a communal living space where they occasionally met for breakfasts and chitchat or to discuss the finer points on their plans for eventual world domination of the global catering industry.
The walls and furnishings remained predominantly coloured in the same bland magnolias, oatmeals and beiges that had been there when they moved in.
The floors were hardwood.
The décor was sparse and minimalist and open plan.
It was a stylish area to entertain friends and, most importantly, it was easy to keep clean and tidy. The only problem with the ground floor level was, unless