Wreckless Love

Day 2! What's a little romance without a little seduction?

The Non-Rebound © Billy London

Bottom chilled on four thousand pounds worth of black granite counters, Ishla tightened her thighs around his waist, sighing in pleasure.  So perfect, she thought, more sighs escaping her throat each time he moved inside her. So different from every single Valentine’s Day she’d had before with her sucky, useless husband. 

He gripped her thighs, commanding softly against her skin, “Slow down.”

She couldn’t stay on edge like this forever. She needed some release. Well before her bum turned numb and she lost all sensation in her thighs. Her phone rang and he lifted his head, frowning in disapproval.

“Who’s calling you at this time?”

Ishla’s enthusiasm for sex evaporated in realisation of who the caller could be. “I have to…”

He took a step back, sliding out of her to let her go. Hopping down from the counter, she picked up the cordless phone.

“Hi mum.”

“Ishla, why are you at home?”

“I’m answering the phone, aren’t I?”

“There’s no need to be rude. Have you spoken to your sister?”

“Sally doesn’t need a pep talk.” Ishla said on a heavy sigh, glancing up at her lover. She mouthed an apology and he smiled softly, lifting the strap of her gossamer bra back onto her shoulder. Waste of underwear that cost almost a hundred pounds. Hell, she had spent her way through her divorce settlement, she really should take care about what she used her money on.

“Salina always needs you. It’s her big day tomorrow.”

Bloody Salina. She loved her sister, but to be honest, she could do without the praise being heaped on the younger woman’s genius and talent and all round angelic goodness. “She’ll be fine. If she wants anything, she’ll call me.”

“Aren’t you sending her anything? Flowers or whatnot?”

Her lover turned his attention to the other strap, tracing his calloused fingertip over the exposed skin, roughly flicking her right nipple. “No,” she answered, lifting her free hand to stop him, and instead pressed his hand harder into her breast. She’d been missing good sex for so many years, it really annoyed her that once again her mother was interfering. “I’ll send her a text message.”

“A text? Your sister may win one of the biggest awards of her life, and you’re going to send her a text?”

Gripping her breast tightly, he pulled her into his kiss, taking such control of her, she barely heard her mother’s rant on the other end of the phone. He’d been so good to her, helping her revise her home, to make it a different space the one she’d endured with her ex-husband. To make it her own. Everything she’d wanted. Sleek cupboards, an extended conservatory, her lover had created for her. With those big, rough hands that skimmed over her waist with the same care and mastery he used to put her home together. He dragged his teeth over her top lip, cupping between her thighs and sinking his fingers inside her.

“Are you listening to me?” her mother screeched.

“Mother, I will call Salina tomorrow. It is not tomorrow. It is Valentine’s Day.”

“Who are you going to enjoy it with since you got divorced?”

“My boyfriend,” she snapped. “Goodnight.”

Her lover gazed at her thoughtfully. “Boyfriend?”

“Given where your hand is right now, I’d say yes.” She wriggled closer, but he stilled her with one big hand on her waist.

“You’ve never referred to me as even an acquaintance, let alone… Boyfriend.”

“I just wanted to get rid of her,” she dismissed his concerns. “Come on.”

He removed his hand from between her thighs and held her away from him. “Really? So what if I wanted to stay the night?”

“Stay,” she answered, not even hesitating to answer. “Of course I want you to stay. You’re not a rebound.”

His eyebrows lifted briefly. “Why? Because you were seeing someone else before me?”

“Because I wasn’t. I gave myself time to get over my dickhead of an ex-husband. I gave myself the time to get to know you…” She slipped her hands over his buttocks, parting her legs to receive him once more.

“Get to know what’s down here,” he caught her by the wrists. “Remind me, where do I live?”

“Vauxhall,” she replied. “You lived there for five years. Before that you were in Stockwell with some friends ducking bullets and blocking out the police helicopter. You got an apprenticeship straight out of school, you run your own business, you’ve come highly recommended, you make me come on the regular and I… I just wanted to have one night with you, where you don’t doubt my motives. I mean, the kitchen’s finished. And I paid you with VAT.”

His mouth twitched in amusement. “Yes, you did.”

She hooked her legs around him. “I’m going to turn the phone off, and we’re not going to do anything tomorrow, just stay in bed and eat take away and watch this award ceremony my sister’s going to be in.”

“Wait. Your sister?”

“Salina Christie.” He paused and Ishla made a face. “Who doesn’t know about who, now?”

“You don’t look anything alike,” he observed, his gaze travelling from forehead to chin.

“I look like my mum, she looks like my dad. We’re not into incest.”

“Isn’t she with that actor bloke?”

Ishla shrugged. “Who cares? She’s big enough and ugly enough to take care of her own STDs. Come on. Come to bed.”

Quickly, she reached over him to turn the phone to automatic voicemail. God only knew where her phone was. If anything happened, Salina would call her. Right now, she needed to focus her attention on what she could get from her delicious man.