Chapter One
KIT
‘Seven down, eight letters; oral stimulation.’
‘Fellatio,’ Bea answers in a heartbeat.
‘I’m game if you are,’ I retort, surprised my response is so mild given the Pavlov-esque action happening in my pants.
She says blow job, my dick replies; down here!
Above the kitchen table, I try to keep my eyes on the newspaper. And while my gaze might not be tracking my girlfriend as she moves around the room, I’m still hyper aware of her movements this morning. This morning? Try every minute of every fucking day. The graceful arc of her spine and the elegance in her fingers as she twists her wild, blond hair at the nape of her neck.
Yeah, so I’m not watching, but am aware. So bloody aware. In two steps, she could be in my arms. In two minutes, I could have her kissed to submission, her body pressed flush against mine and limp in my arms. A few minutes more and I could spread her across the table in the place of the morning news, my knees planted on the floor and my tongue in her pussy.
She’s irresistible, from the hair on her head to the paint on her toenails. And she’s all mine. But I’m trying hard to behave myself this morning. She must be at the hospital in less than an hour for her shift. There’s no time for naked, unfortunately. Instead, I’m pretending not to be the completely obsessed prick I am. Pretending she doesn’t affect me like she does as I feign concentration on the crossword in the newspaper, my cup of coffee, or the stupid Sunday supplement.
‘I’m always up for a bit of oral stimulation, as you know. Giving, taking . . . I love both. Hell, I even like being in the middle of that sexual sandwich.’ My provocation is out of my mouth before I’ve even engaged my brain. So much for being less of a prick today.
‘If only I had the time,’ Bea responds without an ounce of conviction or attention thrown my way. This isn’t like my girl. I glance up and watch as, one hand still curled in her hair, she begins sifting through yesterday’s unopened mail in her quest to find her security key card. The key card she needs for work.
‘There’s always time for sex, honey bee.’ My words hit the air as a purr. I’m not sure if it’s a blessing or a curse that my brain is hardwired to opt for innuendo over sanity.
‘Says the man not working today.’ Her reply is airy and unconcerned even as she continues to rifle through the drawers. ‘Besides, after this morning, I’m sure you really don’t have—’ My amused snort cuts her; she should know me better by now. ‘Even after this morning?’ she asks, a touch incredulously. ‘You’d still want to—’
‘Fuck? Come on, honey bee. What sort of question is that?’
‘But we . . . ’
‘Fucked?’ I supply oh-so reasonably, grasping my coffee cup.
‘More than once!’
‘Aye.’ I take a sip before placing the cup down. ‘It was the best kind of wake up. I thought I’d died and gone to heaven during my sleep.’ I shoot her a sinful smile as I link my fingers at the back of my messy chestnut bedhead. ‘When I’d opened my eyes to all that blonde hair spread across my thighs . . . ’ My sigh is one of reflective pleasure as my dick swells in my pants. ‘Well, I was sure there was an angel in my lap. I had to be in heaven.’
Bea pretends my words don’t affect her, her eyes still focussed on the contents of the drawer, but she can’t quite supress her responding smile.
‘But then,’ I close my eyes and tilt my head back, desire and the memory coursing through my veins. ‘When I looked down again, I saw it wasn’t an angel. It was someone very real.’
‘Is that supposed to be a compliment?’
I open my eyes and turn my gaze slowly her way. ‘An easy mistake to make. You look like an angel and your mouth is heavenly . . . even when you’re sucking me off like the devil himself.’
‘That’s not the kind of flattery that will get you anywhere!’ she answers through a burst of spluttering laughter.
‘It was definitely a compliment. You give one devil of a blow job, darlin’.’
‘If there’s any devil in this relationship, it’s you! I was a good girl before I met you, Kit Tremaine. It’s you that has corrupted me.’
‘And I’ve had a hell of a time doing it.’ My chest moves along with my laughter, my expression and mirth mirroring hers. A beat later, our laughter trails off as we stare at one and other, lost in the memories of this morning again. As Bea inhales a sharp breath, I know she’s thinking of how she’d woken me with warm kisses, her tongue on the head of my cock. I groan at the memory of her hot, wet mouth sliding down the length of my shaft, her gaze intent on my own sleepy one. ‘Christ, you sucked the sleep right out of me.’
‘Oh, is that what that was hitting the back of my throat? That’s what we’re calling it these days.’
‘Call it what you want, so long as you keep suckin’ it from me.’
‘I’ve told you, I don’t have time. I’ve got to get to work.’
‘And I’ve told you, there’s always time for sex, honey bee. I only have to look at you and I’m fucking hard. I can’t ever get my fill of you; not this morning in bed, or else why would we have ended up fucking in the shower?’ I lower my arms and allow my gaze to roam over her face. Her eyes darken as a flush creeps up her neck.
‘And that’s why my hair looks like this,’ she says, gesturing to her wild, honey coloured waves. ‘One of these days you’ll learn what the conditioner is actually for.’
My deep laughter echoes through the room. ‘You mean it’s not posh smellin’ lube?’
Bea shakes her head disparagingly. ‘You are so wrong, my unicorn.’
‘I’ll remind you of that tonight when you’re crying my name, begging to come. Ah, the plans I have for you when you get home. Fancy a night in restraints?’
She blinks back at me slowly, one . . . two . . . three and I wonder where her mind has slipped to. Has it gone to the last time we’d used restraints? I’d fastened her ankles into a spreader bar and her hands to the headboard and eaten her out until she’d run out of breath to protest. Or maybe she’s thinking about the last time we were at the Den. Of how her bare pussy had ridden my thigh while another man—a stranger—had watched her fall apart. Fall apart for me. Of how we’d taken him back to our room later and used him for our pleasure.
The Lion’s Den is a place we’re both members of—me a long-time member, her more recently. It’s a place where all kinds of kinks are catered for by way of exorbitant membership fees. And worth every penny as far as I’m concerned, though I still have moments of disbelief when I think about this beautiful woman and how she not only fits into my life and lifestyle tastes, but compliments them.
She calls me her sexual unicorn, as in I’m too good to be true. But really, she’s the magical one.
Or maybe the reference is really about my massive, sparkly dick. Massive by way of girth and length, sparkly by way of its piercing. Her words, not mine. Truthfully, I’m not sure which it is, but what is clear is Bea finds my bisexuality a huge turn on.
She doesn’t love me in spite of who I am but rather because of it.
From the other side of the island bench, Bea hasn’t moved. Lips gently parted, her chest rises and falls with even breaths as she suddenly mouths the word, ‘Restraints.’
It’s not quite a whisper as she looks down unseeingly at a flyer she’s pulled from the drawer. But it is my answer. And the reason my cock is rock fucking hard. She’s thinking about tonight, wondering what I have planned. Thinking about the heights I’ll take her to all its dirty, wicked technicolour.
‘What’s your pleasure, darlin’? The spreader bar? The cuffs?’ Her eyes rise, the flush on her cheeks more vivid now. ‘Maybe it’s not such a good idea to tie you down, ‘cause I can’t get enough of you.’ Not this morning and I definitely not tonight. ‘Not when you’re leaving me to my own devices all day. Christ only knows what plans I’ll have cooked up by the time you get home.’
She ducks her head, but it doesn’t matter. I can tell from across the room she’s excited. She’s probably wet.
‘Such threats and promises,’ she says, her tone taking on a sultry, husky quality.
Oh, she’s definitely wet.
‘I can barely walk as it is,’ she says, raising her head. A low chuckle rumbles from my chest in response to her twinkling gaze and expression. ‘I’m serious,’ she adds fighting her own smile. ‘I give it until lunchtime before someone asks where I went horse-riding this weekend. And what should I say then? That my reduced mobility is a result of loving someone insatiable? Someone hung like a horse?’
‘Like either of those is a bad thing. You’ll just make your colleagues jealous.’
‘Swallow their tongues, more like.’
‘And I’m more than willing to kiss your pussy better,’ I purr. ‘Send you to work with a smile on your face?’
‘You are just the worst,’ she play-huffs. ‘The biggest tease of the century.’
‘You think I don’t mean it?’ I ask, cocking one taunting brow. ‘Why don’t you come over here and let my cock show you otherwise. Pushing my chair farther back, I palm my dick, partly for my benefit, partly for hers. She likes to watch, and like a good boyfriend, I’ll let her. Anytime.
At this, she appears to come back to her original purpose. Teasing over, she plants a solid hand on her hip. ‘Or you could just help me find my card so I can get to work on time?’ She gives me her serious face and I know I should maybe toe the line. Rather than pull on it. Because hers isn’t a job. It’s more like a calling.
‘It should be against the law to work on Sunday,’ I grumble, adjusting my semi as it deflates along with my hopes. ‘Sunday mornings should be reserved for blow jobs and lazy morning fucking.’ Even as I complain, I do as she suggests. Yep, that’s me. The good boyfriend. Or at least, someone trying to be. And soon to be good husband, if I have anything to do with it. Let’s just say there are plans in the works. A timeline I’m adhering to. Relationships blocks I’m building into goals.
‘I agree,’ she responds reasonably. ‘There also should be no such things as small children requiring surgery after nasty RTAs, or thumbs severed from hands because someone’s dad accidentally sawed it off during a spot of Sunday DIY.’
Bea’s a plastic surgeon, though not the kind that enhances tits, or peels back the skin of jowly faces for a tighter fit. Nope, she’s the kind that fixes burned skin, malformations, and reattaches the odd fingers, too.
‘I’m pleased I did’nae have sausage for breakfast. You paint an awfully persuasive picture, hen.’
‘I need to find my card and get to work,’ she adds plaintively, her hand slipping from her hip as she half shrugs.
In two steps, I’ve enfolded her in my arms. I can’t resist this woman, in whatever form.
‘It’s a good job I love you so much, what with you spoiling all my dirty plans.’ My stupid words come out in a rough rumble as I bury my nose in her hair and band my arms against her back.
‘You’re such a sweet talker.’
‘Aye, it’s a curse,’ I reply, sliding my palms down her back and cupping her arse. ‘I’m all about the greater good.’
My honey bee tilts her chin, a small crease forming between her brows as she looks up into my face,. ‘You made that up, didn’t you?’
‘What? The greater good? It’s a line from a movie, I think.’
‘No, the crossword. Earlier. Seven down?’
‘I might’ve twisted it a bit,’ I admit. ‘Aural—with an a. And I only read part of the clue.’
‘You’re a man obsessed,’ she says, her cute scowl deepening before she gives into laughter, laying her hand against my chest.
I cover her hand with mine and stare into her open face. ‘You’re right. I’m a man obsessed with you. And with fucking you.’
‘You and your sweet words. ‘
‘I speak only the truth. I can’t get enough of you. I think I have a love tapeworm Doctor Honey.’
‘That’s . . . not so sweet. In fact, it’s kind of gross!’ But she’s still chuckling.
‘That’s your diagnosis? I hope your bedside manner has a little more finesse. Actually, scratch that. I hope your bedside manner for everyone else is exactly like that.’ I tighten my hand on her arse and pull her into me.
‘Why, Mr. Tremaine, it appears you have a little dysplastic action going on in your pants.’
‘Ah, Doctor Honey Bee,’ I rasp, rubbing her body against the action going on in my pants. ‘Talk all the dirty medical to me.’
‘I’m going to be late.’ Her words are almost a plea, her forehead planted against my chest.
Fuck it. Time to be her knight in white armour, or some semblance of it.
‘You left your card on the table in the hallway after your last shift.’
‘But I’ve looked there already—it wasn’t there.’
‘That’s because I shoved it in the drawer.’ It probably spilled from that massive bag she insists on carrying. Honestly? She could probably smuggle a small child out of the hospital in the thing.
‘You’re a life saver!’ On the tips of her toes, she lifts both hands to my cheeks, placing her lips on mine for one loud, smacking kiss. As she makes to pull away, I keep her hips flush against mine.
‘Not so fast. What do you call that?’
‘A thanks and see you soon kiss?’
‘A travesty, that’s what I’d call it—a I’m in too much of a rush kiss. Y’cannae be leaving wi’ out kissing my properly.’
‘Properly? When we kiss properly, clothes are usually shed—kisses travel to places other than mouths. One kiss has been known to last for hours.’
‘Good, though, right?’
‘Very,’ she answers, her eyes darkening. ‘Hours when we have hours. Days when we have days. Minutes are all I have to spare, so kindly remove your hands from my posterior and stop looking at me that way.’
‘Then I’ll just have to make do with what you’ve got to give.’
My mouth covers hers in an instant, though I’m careful to rein in my actions. The way I feel about this woman makes me want to go caveman, the need to consume and devour—to overwhelm—is always strong. But this time, I keep my mouth gentle and my lips soft . . . and I don’t allow my hands to wander from their position on her arse. Okay . . . so I might pull her against me a little. Rub my hardness against the softness of her body a little more.
Our tongues entwine with a slow passion and, as her hands slide from my shoulder to my forearms, I can feel her trying to take possession of this kiss, her fingers tightening, her tongue slipping between my lips. It’s true what she said, our kisses never stay chaste for very long. It only takes one of us to alter the pace and, like the lady says, tongues are touching more than just the insides of mouths. So I do the sensible thing, the thing my cock doesn’t appreciate. The thing that will earn me boyfriend points, improving my standing in Bea’s eyes. Hopefully.
‘Like I said, you’re a tease,’ she whispers hotly against my mouth as I begin to slow the kiss and pull away.
I didn’t say she would thank me now.
‘Go save some detached thumbs,’ I whisper, pulling my mouth from hers. ‘We’ll revisit this topic when you get home.’
‘Sounds like a plan.’
‘It’s the beginning of one, all right. I’ll have ironed out all the fine details while you’re at the coal face.’
With one last lingering kiss, she leaves me for her shift at the hospital.