Come Back to Me

Excerpt

I feel a kiss as soft as butterfly wings against the side of my face.
 

“I’m right here, dearest.”
 

“Christopher?”
 

A gentle hand strokes my hair soothingly.
 

“Yes, my love.”
 

The firm mattress dips under someone’s weight and then arms wrap themselves tightly around me.
 

I know that I’m dreaming.
 

I don’t want to wake up, but I force my eyes open—better to break the enchantment, than to enjoy it for too long and be devastated on waking.
 

The heavy drapes which I had left open are now closed.
 

Night has just fallen and the room’s in darkness, but it’s light enough for me to recognize the familiar face with its solemn grey eyes inches away from mine.
 

I reach out hesitantly to touch his face, knowing that my hand with touch only thin air.
 

He smiles as it connects to warm skin.
 

I should have been shocked, or even a little scared, but it’s what I had hoped for, prayed for.
 

“Christopher?”

“Yes, sweetheart.”
 

“This can’t be real!”
 

“It’s as real as you make it, my love.”
 

I know I’m dreaming, but it’s the most wondrous dream and I don’t want it to end.
 

“Please don’t leave me,” I beg, now afraid to close my eyes.
 

“I’ll be here for as long as you need me,” he promises.
 

“I want you to stay forever,” I demand fiercely.
 

“Forever is a long time,” he chides gently.  I hear the smile in his voice.  “But I promise that I’ll never leave you unless you grow tired of me.”
 

“I’ll never get tired of you,” I vow.  “Kiss me so that I know you’re real.  Make love to me.”
 

He moves his head closer and covers my lips with his.
 

My first ever kiss!
 

Then his tongue presses softly against my lips and I open them.  His tongue touches mine and I feel an electric tingle run through my body.
 

I had worried that I won’t know what to do when the time came, but Christopher seems to know enough about kissing for both of us.
 

His tongue forces itself deeper into my mouth and I marvel at his aggression.
Somehow, I’d thought that he would kiss gently and with no tongue.
 

I feel his hand at my neck and then the zip at the back of my dress slides slowly downwards.  He unhooks my bra and then gently urges me onto my back.  I lift my arms obediently so that he could free them from the elbow-length sleeves of my thick woollen dress.  Warm hands briefly cup my breasts and I realize that my bra has miraculously disappeared with the dress.
 

“It’s cold in here.  Let me undress you fully and get you under the covers.”
 

I lift my hips and allow him to slip my panties down my legs and off.  Then his warm body covers mine and a duvet is tucked into place around us.
 

He kisses me again as his fingers start to roll my nipples firmly, creating a delicious ache between my thighs.  I can’t help myself squirming shamelessly against him as the rolling goes on and on.
 

How can this feel so familiar?
 

I know it can’t be.
 

I had longed for it, even dreamt of it on occasion, but it had never happened.
 

Christopher breaks the kiss and his lips make their way over my skin, nibbling as they go along until they reach my left nipple.
 

I gasp as it’s enclosed in a wet, hungry mouth.
 

The pull of his lips is maddening.
 

When I feel a touch on my thigh, I immediately open my legs wider needing something to soothe the ache deep inside that his suckling lips are creating.
 

A long finger slides inside me as a thumb slowly massages my clitoris.
 

My parents and grandparents had been devout Christians and though I had lost my faith when the tsunami had claimed the live of my parents and siblings, certain Bible teachings had stayed with me. I’d never masturbated or touched any part of my body in a sexual way until Christopher had died and I’d finally thought that life meant to rob me of every bit of joy.
 

I’ve only touched myself on the outside, though.
 

Christopher’s finger inside me feels wonderful.
 

And I feel something building within me.
 

Feel myself reaching the pinnacle that had stayed just out of my reach when I’d touched myself.
 

The feeling intensifies and I hold onto Christopher’s broad shoulders, widening the sprawl of my legs, begging him to press deeper.
 

“Ah!  Ah!  Yes!”
 

His finger inside me slowly filling me with pleasure is like a balloon being slowly filled with air.  I hover for a moment full to the brim and then I explode.
 

“Good girl,” Christopher says and holds me tenderly while I float away on a sea of pleasure.
 

“Did you just make me come?” I whisper against his throat, glad that the room is dark enough to cover my blush.
 

“Yes.”
 

“How is that even possible?” I ask incredulously.
 

It’s a dream, but it feels so wonderfully real.
 

And why stop now?
 

“Make love to me,” I plead again.
 

“I have to confess something first.”
 

“What?” I demand as he hesitates.
 

I really didn’t care if he’d murdered someone or done something equally terrible.
 

That’s no longer important.
 

Not now.
 

All I know is that somehow, miraculously, he’s here with me and that’s all that matters.

My Dad's Boss 2

Excerpt

I felt a soft touch on the side of my face and had to resist the urge to turn so that my chin was cradled in his palm.  When he moved his hand back to the steering wheel, I finally turned my head and stared his perfect profile.
 
“You look incredible, Victoria.”
 
“Thank you,” I replied.  “You don’t look too bad yourself.”
 
“Really?” he replied, sounding surprised.  “These three years have been torture.”
 
“It was torture of your own making,” I reminded him, trying and failing to keep the bitterness out of my voice.  Hoping that he hadn’t noticed, I continued flippantly, “I had so much fun, the years literally flew by.”
 
“I’m glad you had fun,” he replied, the words barely escaping his tight lips.  “Fucking every straight male student on campus, it seems like.  Well, it’s my turn to have some fun now.”
 
A delicious shiver ran through me and my panties got wetter as I recalled the things he threatened last night that he would do to me when we got to his house.
 
“Spread your beautiful thighs for me,” he instructed as if he sensed that I couldn’t wait another twenty minutes or so until we got to his home.
 
“No,” I replied stubbornly.
 
I didn’t want him to see how wet I was, doing nothing more than just sitting there close to him and inhaling his masculine scent.
 
“Spread them, and move aside your panties, if you’re wearing any,” he ordered.  “I’m going to fuck you hard when we get to the house.  I don’t have time to prepare you when we get there.”
 
I really should object to him thinking that he could just command me and I will obey, I thought as I moved my thong aside and tilted my hips upwards.  But it’s been three years since I’ve been penetrated, though I’ve masturbated plenty, and his cock isn’t exactly small.
 
He took his sweet time, first caressing the front of my thigh, then moving inwards and finally upwards.
 
“You’re soaking wet,” he said, using his fingers to press and circle my clit and produce even more moisture.  “Were you thinking of me all the way here?  Or were you sitting next to some randy young man who fingered you for the entire flight?”
 
“It was an old man actually,” I replied, just to see his reaction.  “He must have been almost seventy and very distinguished looking.  He had large hands and very wicked fingers.”
 
Though I was sure he didn’t believe my outrageous story, I watched as a muscle started to jump in his clenched jaw.
 
“Wider,” he commanded and pressed two long fingers deep inside me, pushing past the resistance of my pussy.  He groaned as he started to work them back and forth.  “So wet and still so tight.  It’s going to take some time to break this pussy.”
 
“Break it?”  I didn’t like the sound of that!
 
“I took it easy on you three years ago because you were eighteen…still a baby, but now you’re a woman you’ll have to take me from every angle and in every hole,” he warned.  “You will also have to take my fist.”

The Billionaire's Dirty Little Secret (A Stepbrother Romance Short)

Excerpt

I stood at the gates and stared at the 9-bedroom detached house in front of me for a long time, my bags containing everything I own on the ground at my feet.  And when I say ‘everything I own’ I mean just that.  My entire life and possessions fit into one bag.  I’d learnt not to get too attached to anything at the age of seven when my mother and I had run from my father before dawn one morning with nothing except the clothes on our backs.  I’d had to leave the precious, beautiful dolls my beloved maternal grandmother had passed down to me.  It was a tough lesson, but it taught me to never get attached or hold on to anything that could be lost, stolen, taken away or left behind.

I continued to stare at the ridiculously large house, as if my intense stare could somehow make it shrink or disappear.  I’d lived in the small, comfortable 2-bedroom adjoining staff house from the ages of seven to nineteen, but now the sprawling main house was my home.

All of it.

I didn’t own it, but I was free to do pretty much what I wanted to do in it.

I could sit on the plush chairs in the grand living room.

I could walk into the kitchen and take whatever I wanted.  Or better still, call down and have a maid bring it up to me.

I could start the day with a leisurely swim in the Olympic-sized pool or work out in the state-of-the-art gym and have a sauna afterwards.

I could go for long walks in the extensive gardens.

I could drive any of the 10 classic cars in the garage.

I could watch the latest blockbuster in the cinema room.

I could do all of the above.

But all I wanted to do was turn around and run as far away as possible.

I heard the purr of an approaching car.

Too late!

Shit!

I listened as the engine was killed and the car door slammed, before I slowly turned around to face him.

Jake Bickerstaff.

Still the sexiest man I’d ever laid eyes on.  He’d inherited his father’s amber eyes, but while his father’s were smiling, dreamy artist’s eyes, Jake’s were sharp like an eagle’s.  Except for when we’d made love.  His dark hair could have come from either side of his family tree, but I suspected that it was from his mother’s.  The glossy strands hinted at her distant Indian ancestry.  Four years ago it had been boyishly long and those strands had softly caressed my naked body when he had kissed me all over.  His mouth…oh God, his mouth…looked angelic, the only part of him that did, but it was deliciously wicked.  I still blush when I think of the things he could do with his sinful tongue.

And from the first time he kissed me I knew that there would be no one else for me.

That’s why he was still my first and only lover.

Still my heartbreaker.

“What the hell are you playing at?”  He was spitting nails as he came to stand and glare down at me.  “I drove up to get you only to be told that you’d left already.”

“I didn’t know that you’d planned to come and get me.”

Even if I had known, it wouldn’t have mattered.  I wouldn’t have wanted to spend a whole hour and a half in a car alone with him all the way from Oxford to Hampstead.

“I was worried sick.”  He took hold of my upper arms as though to convince himself that I wasn’t a mirage and then he gave me a little shake.  “Why didn’t you answer your mobile?”

“I didn’t hear it ringing.”  I’d deliberately muted it, knowing that he might call and offer me a ride.

“Get in,” he ordered, letting me go and grabbing my bags.

I watched as he threw them unceremoniously onto the back seat of the convertible Rolls Royce Phantom.

“I can walk from here,” I said and turned back to the gate.

The space in the car wasn’t as confined as his Lamborghini’s and with the top down I had nothing to fear, but it was still closer to him than I wanted to be.

“Get in!”

He was bastard enough to throw me in bodily and Security was probably watching the cameras, wondering what was going on between us.

I reluctantly got it.

He slammed my door closed, went back around to the driver’s side and jumped in agilely without opening his.

Was that to remind me how virile you are?  You needn’t have bothered!

“Why were you standing outside the gates?” he demanded as he started the car and drove smoothly through them as they opened.

“I was thinking that I would rather be anywhere but here,” I replied.

He stopped the car and I watched out of the corner of my eyes as his body tensed, every muscle contracting for a brief moment before he forced himself to relax.  If I hadn’t seen him do the same thing dozens of times before when confronted by his belligerent grandfather, I would have thought that my words had no effect on him.

“You don’t have to worry, dear stepsister.”  His lips curled into a sneer as he uttered the last word.  “I don’t plan on having my wicked way with you.”