Page 21 of Storm in a D Cup

Good thing I’d moved away from the door, or I’d be flat on my back right now. Not that this position was any more regal.

He stopped on the threshold and, from what I could see from this angle, his mouth dropped open.

‘Look, Julian!’ I called proudly. ‘I’ve still got it!’

Silence, during which I remembered that, beneath my very wide skirt, I was wearing a pair of nothings. Oh God, could I be any more embarrassed?

‘Yes you have,’ he said with a sexy grin (I didn’t see it but I heard it in his voice). ‘And no signs of fudge anywhere.’

So it was like that, was it? Don’t mind if I do, actually. Julian always had a knack for good timing. I thought I might try and stand up gracefully, but there was no gracefully with having to bring your legs down one at a time like that. So I maintained my position, my arms straining, aching, but it was nothing compared to what shape my pride was in.

To make it worse, Julian sauntered over and leaned on the wall next to me. ‘Need a hand?’ he said softly.

‘Haha,’ I answered, trying to ignore the huskiness of his voice. Well, at least I hadn’t put him off sex for good. ‘I can do this by myself, thanks.’

He shrugged. ‘OK.’

‘What are you doing, standing there?’ I asked, trying to hide the embarrassment in my voice with annoyance when he didn’t go away.

‘Enjoying the view. Nice toenail polish, by the way.’

Argh. I was starting to weigh a ton on my wimpy arms. I couldn’t hold out any longer, only my pride keeping me in this humiliating position. ‘Thanks.’

‘Sure you don’t need help?’ he asked.

‘No thanks. I’m… trying to break a record.’

He laughed. ‘And there was me thinking you were trying to break a leg.’

‘You’re just taking advantage of the fact that I’m stuck here, aren’t you?’ I said.

‘No,’ he whispered. ‘Taking advantage would be doing this…’ And with that, he placed his hands around my ankles and pulled them apart.

‘Ooh. Kinky,’ I said flippantly as he leaned in closer andOh my God.

‘Can you handle it?’ he murmured, his voice low and guttural.

Meaning, was I going to fall in a heap at his feet, just because he was pushing all the right buttons?

‘Hhhh… that’s not fair,’ I complained as the kinkiest images available in my filthy mind were playing out literally above my head.

‘All is fair in love and war,’ he quoted.

‘Now is not the right time to show off your literary expertise.’

‘You’re right,’ he said with a low chuckle. ‘Now is the time to see how long you can stand it for without buckling.’

So it was a contest of resistance, was it? The gloves were off then. But soon, so was every stitch of clothing. God, I loved this man.

It seemed that neither did Julian want to take any chances. So he continued taking his time. I waited as he got his breathing back to normal, his head hanging low between his shoulders until he sank on top of me and went still, my legs still bent back against my chest as if I was doing bench presses, and in a way, I was. You try keeping a six-foot-three, two-hundred-pound man off you with the sole strength of your thigh muscles.

Many minutes had passed. How long did he actually think I could stay pretzeled like that? Had he passed out? He sure was overworking himself in between the sheets lately. Had he had a stroke and died, or was he simply sleeping? Nowthatwould have been a real boost to my ego.

While I was mulling these possibilities over, a sharp pain shot through my leg. ‘Ow, ow, ow,cramp!’ I screeched, letting my leg fall back down and knocking Julian over the head, but it seemed to reactivate him. ‘Oh, I’m so sorry!’ I cried.

‘Don’t worry,’ he whispered. ‘Are you OK?’

Apart from a screaming Charley horse and a sore lower body, I was fine. OK, truth: I was brutally pissed off. Hehadfallen asleep on me. But I couldn’t blame the guy – I was exhausted myself while only doing the minimal amount of work.

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