[18+] Mark just wants a quiet life. With plenty of action at work, he has no interest in bringing the drama home with him. But he does need a flatmate, and when blonde bombshell Zoe crashes onto the scene, she's more than he bargained for.
Zoe is a...
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March 2007
MARK
The silk pyjamas shimmer with every step she takes across the lounge. The second we're inside her bedroom, I shut the door. That amuses her for reasons I don't have time to consider.
Instead, I sweep an arm around her waist and tug her towards me. Her tiny palms splay across my chest as she stumbles forwards, and I fight the urge to throw her onto the bed. Last night I got the impression she likes a bit of rough, but until I know just how much, better to keep that beast in the cage.
"You're still wearing clothes," she points out.
Getting undressed would speed things along, but this might be our only time together. Better to draw it out. Savour every second.
Like her tongue in my mouth again.
With my spare hand, I cradle the back of her neck and then dip down to her lips. Her warm breath, minty fresh, mingles with mine, tempting me closer, drawing me in.
"Thought you hated kissing," she taunts.
"Means to an end," I taunt back.
It's impossible to hate kissing Zoe. Maybe it's because she doesn't see it as a means to an end. She enjoys it, puts effort into it. It's slow and thorough, like a sensual venture into a forbidden land. She tastes of toothpaste and a confusing blend of innocence and danger. The girl isn't innocent. Far from it. But my protective instinct wants to shield her from hurt.
If we do this, we need to be on the same page. The same line of the same page.
"This isn't going to be romantic," I warn her, dragging my swollen lips across her cheek until I reach her ear. I nibble and she shudders. "I don't fuck romantically."
"I don't want romance. I just want orgasms."
Logic suggests that when something's too good to be true, it usually is. But for now, I can only take her at face value. It'll be just one time. Get it out of our systems. Move on with clearer heads tomorrow.
I test boundaries a little, try to figure out what she likes. Easing my grip upwards, I sink my fingers into her hair, gather a bunch of soft blonde strands within my fist, and yank her head to the side. She gasps and clutches onto my t-shirt. The long stretch of her neck is too inviting to ignore. Gentle at first, I trace a light path with my lips. Up to her jaw. Down to her shoulder. The more she trembles in my arms, the harder I suck, until her shallow pants evolve into needy moans.
Reading her body language has always been easy, and if it's just as simple in the bedroom, we're in for a mind-blowing night.
I let go of her waist and slide my hand beneath the hem of her pyjama top. Silk tickles my wrist as I skim a palm over warm flesh, up to her hard nipples. I capture one between two knuckles and squeeze. To my surprise, she wriggles out of my grasp.
