Page 63 of Take My Breath Away
“Hmm.” James doesn’t attempt to move as he runs his tongue around his mouth. “I’ve also got a few pubes caught between my teeth.”
“Well, I’ll book in for a wax, shall I? In the meantime, you can take your teeth out so you can properly unpick them. And give a better BJ.”
I give him a hard shove and he topples off the edge, saved from totally crumpling onto the rug by one leg clinging to the bed — which I push off so the errant limb can join the rest of him. I peek over the side and look down at a very naked James, partially tangled in the duvet which went overboard with him.
“I do not have false teeth.” He sticks his bottom lip out in a sulky pout. “I can’t believe this is the thanks I get for lovingly relieving you of—”
“An extra few minutes of blissful sleep?” I’m grinning now because there’s no way I can’t. I’d give up minutes, hours, days and nights for James’ mouth on me. The horizontal workout he’s given me has left me both more relaxed and refreshed than the best night’s sleep ever could — but it’s also put me off my guard as James’ sudden, out of the blue move has me tumbling out of bed. My breath’s knocked from me as I land on top of him.
His arms tighten around me, their grip steel hard. I’ve no way out of his embrace even if I wanted it. James wraps his legs around my waist, his solid shaft pressing hard against my belly, and I suck in a sharp breath as he rolls his hips up into me and, even though I’ve just emptied myself down his throat, my cock’s already thickening.
James kisses me hard, the taste of my release on his tongue thrilling through me as he rocks harder. The drag on my cock, trapped between our sweat-slicked bodies, is exquisite, mouth-watering agony. Messy kisses, spit smearing our lips, our breaths heavy and ragged, and hitching as our cocks slide across each other, slippery from our combined juice. But I need more.
I pull back, and James’ arms around me loosen. Spitting into my palm I lock my gaze onto the dark and inky depths that have become James’ eyes. He’s breathing hard, and his lips curve up into a wicked grin as I wrap my hand around our—
James’ mobile rings, slicing through the heated, lust-fogged air.
“Fuck. Fuck, fuck,fuck.” James’ roar of anger and frustration fills every corner of the bedroom. I let us go, and climb off him, leaving him to leap to his feet, grab the phone from the bedside cabinet, and stomp off to his office.
I want to scream at him to leave it, to flush it down the toilet or throw it out the window, but I recognise the ring tone and it’s one he can ignore. Work, but not just work. It’s his boss, although James having a boss is almost an anathema, but a call at 6.30am can’t be ignored. I pick myself and the duvet up from the floor and sigh as I look down at my now flagging cock.
James comes back into the bedroom. “I have to go in. Now. Christ, but they demand their pound of flesh.” He’s scowling and grumpy, his dick as deflated as mine. He doesn’t say who exactlytheyare and I don’t ask.
He throws the phone on the bed and mutters about a shower.
“Good job it wasn’t a video call.” I lie back on the bed and prop my head in my hand and watch him.
James snorts, but his eyes narrow and there it is again, that dark smile that sends a shiver across my skin and blood to my dick.
“Maybe she can wait five minutes.”
“Five minutes?” I do my best to sound outraged. “Although it’s probably all you can manage at your age.”
James’ eyes narrow some more, and wicked turns to pure evil.
“When did you get so lippy?” He takes slow steps towards me, making me think of a cat stalking a mouse. I edge further into the bed, as I watch every step that brings him closer. My dick’s on high alert, too, as it bobs against my stomach. “I can do more to you in five minutes than—”
His phone rings again. It’s next to me on the bed, and I toss it over to him. He listens, barely even grunts a response, his brow puckered into a hard frown. Whatever’s happening, he’s needed. We’ll just have to bank those five minutes.
“Get ready and go. Something’s obviously up, even if it’s not us.” I nod to our dicks, flagging for the second time in a handful of minutes. “I’ll see you later.”
“Sorry, but, yes I really do have to get a move on.” With an apologetic smile, he leans down and presses a quick kiss to my lips.
Less than twenty minutes later the door slams closed leaving me alone in the bed where I breathe in deep, catching the fading aroma of his citrus cologne as I drift back to sleep.
* * *
I put aside the book I’ve been reading and stretch out on the comfy sofa in the living room. On the coffee table next to me is a cup of tea and a small slice of chocolate cake. It’s only the second piece I’ve had, as James has snaffled most of it. It was definitely his favourite, he’d said. I can’t help smiling, because he’d said exactly the same thing about the carrot cake, the lemon drizzle and the Victoria sponge.
Snuggling deeper into the cushions, I’m feeling lazy. I’ve a day off work and it’d be easy to lounge about doing nothing in this beautiful house where I feel so comfortable. And that’s a problem.
I’m too comfortable, here in this house and with James, when I can’t afford to be. I’m not staying here, and I have to keep reminding myself of that but it’s getting harder. Whatever I might want to believe, this isn’t my home. My stomach twinges hard, and I try to tell myself it’s just indigestion.
“Come on, get moving,” I say to nobody but myself. Yes, that’s exactly what I need to do in all sorts of ways.
We haven’t talked about my proposed move to Brighton since we got back from the cottage, almost a month ago, when we agreed to be whatever it is we are. It’s the elephant in the room. We both know it’s there but when we’re together we ignore it. But I can’t afford to, and I’ve been quietly looking, every single day.
I’ve lost count of how many places I’ve viewed online, along with the countless conversations with estate agents, who assure me they have just the right property on their books — and then email details of tiny studio flats. To be honest, it’s all getting a bit depressing. Nothing new seems to be coming up, just the same old places. If they’re not selling it’s for a reason. Perhaps I really should leave it all until after Christmas, just a couple of months away. But I have to keep looking, just in case that perfect gem turns up. Thing is, it already has. It’s called James’ house.
