Secrets In Sydney. Emily Forbes
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ribbons of heat followed, making her head thrash against the pillow. She never wanted it to stop and her hands plunged into his hair in a combination of wanting to touch him and not wanting him to stop what he was doing.
His wicked laugh rained down on her as he dawdled his tongue and his hands down her belly, stroking her, tasting her and branding her with his stubble until her body was quivering and slick with throbbing need for him.
Her arms flailed out toward the bedside table and she managed to gasp, ‘Condoms.’
He shook his head as his fingers reached the only thatch of hair on her body that was curly. ‘We’re not ready for that just yet.’
She stared at his face as she tried hard to bring her eyes into focus. ‘We’re … not?’
‘No.’ His fingers sneaked slowly lower and lower with blissful intent, and then he slid one inside her. Then another.
She gasped with delight and instantly tightened around his fingers before closing her eyes and joining the ride to oblivion. Nothing existed except the ever-increasing ball of sensation that he was building inside her with his talented hands.
Suddenly, his fingers stopped and then withdrew.
Shocked surprise and begging need snapped her eyes open, fast. ‘Don’t stop.’ She heard the desperation in her voice and didn’t care. ‘Please, don’t stop.’
His face was wreathed in one enormous smile that crinkled the edges of his eyes, which now glowed with a light she’d never seen before. With his other hand he drew a lazy circle on her lower belly. ‘Just tell me, what’s the colour of the hair down here?’
She heard words, but her completely melted brain frantically scrambled, trying to find some neurons that would still connect. It tried, but the colour eluded her. ‘You’re a shocking tease, Tom Jordan. Does it even matter?’
‘Yes. It completes my picture of you.’
The tenderness in his words touched her and the permanent emptiness around her heart shrank a little. She pressed her hand against his chest and the almost black hair that rested there. ‘This colour.’
‘Beautiful.’
He moved and she felt his hair lightly brush her belly and then his lips pressing kisses on her inner thigh before finding the perfect place.
Deep within, her scream of need ignited and she cried out for him, wanting him to fill her, aching for his width, but then her body took over, riding the pounding waves of wonder, sweeping her higher and higher until the ball of bliss exploded, flinging her far beyond herself to a place she’d never been.
When she floated back to earth, she pulled his face to hers and kissed him. ‘Thank you. Now I want to give you the same gift.’
‘And you can.’
He rolled her over so he was under her and then he pressed a foil square into her hand. She rolled the condom over his erection, marvelling at his long, silky length, and she kept stroking him, loving the feel of him against her palm.
He groaned and his face flushed. ‘Listening to you come almost undid me so if you want the full experience you need to stop doing that right now.’
‘Really?’ She leaned forward, letting her hair sweep across his chest, surprised but loving the fact that her orgasm had turned him on when she’d seen it as a selfless gift from him.
He grabbed her buttocks and lifted her. ‘Believe me. Really.’
A surge of power filled her—her femininity rising to dominate for the very first time in her life. This sightless man desired her and wanted her, and just as he’d held the key to demolishing all her restraint, she now held the key to his. She also knew that by giving him release she too would receive it. Lowering her body slowly, she felt herself opening up layer upon layer to take him, to absorb him, and then she closed tightly around him.
His guttural groan filled the room and then his hands gripped her hips. In a rhythm as old as time they moved together, driving each other upward, taking and giving, needing and demanding, until they both cried out with the glory of touching the stars.
Warmth cocooned Hayley. Warmth, cosiness and blissful rest. Everything around her was fuzzy—a sort of soft focus—and she had an overwhelming feeling of being safe. She didn’t know how she’d come to be on a beach, lying on a large and lovely soft towel, or how long she’d even been here, but it didn’t matter. She had sunshine on her back, the soporific lapping sounds of a gentle tide against the sand, and the sleep she always craved beckoned her with an addictive serenade. The Sandman with his dancing eyes said, ‘Sunshine so you can sleep in a lovely pale red glow. I did this just for you. You know you want to sleep so close your eyes and leave the rest to me.’
And she was so very tired. Chronically tired from years of not getting enough sleep and this was all so perfect. She let her book fall from her hands as she laid her head down and then she let her eyelids fall shut.
The promised pink glow surrounded her and all her stress and fatigue rolled away, absorbed by the heat of the sand. The beguiling Sandman was right. This was the perfect place to sleep. Why had it taken so long to find this beach? She might never leave. As she stretched out with a sigh, the pink glow deepened to a claret-red. She fell deeper into sleep. A shiver ran along her spine as a cool breeze sneaked in around her back. She rolled over, chasing the sun, but it vanished, leaving darkness in its place. Her hand shot out, grasping for the heat of the sand, but instead of warm silica and quartz crystals she touched cold, lifeless marble. She pulled her hand back in fright as the inky darkness intensified, roaring in, settling over her like the membrane of suffocating plastic and denying her breath.
Her heart slammed against her chest as panic screamed in her ears. She gasped for breath, desperately trying to flee the dark and find the light. The more she fought the dark, the stronger its grip on her became until it pinned her down, trapping her in its clutches. She tried to stand but her legs were tied and everything she touched burned her with desolate cold.
Get out. Get out now before you die.
Panting hard, she gave an almighty push and kicked hard. Her eyes flew open and she realised she was now awake—abruptly jolted out of a nightmare. Her tight chest formed a band around her and she could hardly move any air and her head spun while her fingertips tingled.
Breathe in, breathe out. Count it in, count it out. Gradually, her eyes adjusted to the dark. Her skin was drenched in sweat, her legs felt constricted and slowly she realised she was in a bed and tangled up in a sheet and duvet. A tiny chink of light squeezed through a small gap at the closing point of the curtains.
Curtains? She never closed the curtains during the day.
And then she remembered. She was in Tom’s bed.
Her arm reached out and patted cold sheets. Alone in Tom’s bed.
Kicking her legs free of the rope-like sheet and pushing the duvet back, she jumped up and whipped open the curtains. Sunshine flooded the room and she fell back onto the bed and pushed herself up onto a pile of pillows. She was safe. A half laugh and half groan rumbled up from deep inside her and she automatically turned toward the bedside table, seeking a clock. But no green or red digital display greeted her. Instead, there was a large black cube with a big button on top. She pressed it and then jumped in surprise when an automated male voice said, “It’s three-seventeen p.m., Wednesday, August nineteen.”
She’d been asleep for seven hours? That totally stunned her. Despite the nightmare wake-up, she’d slept soundly, and in a foreign bed. She never slept very well and what sleep she was able to get always occurred in her own bed with the blinds wide open. It had been light when she’d fallen asleep and Tom must have closed the curtains for her when he’d got up, thinking it would help her sleep.
Mind-blowing sex was why you slept so well.
She grinned like a child who’d just been given a lollipop. Tom had been the most amazing lover and going by his moans