Passion Read online

  I pulled the door open—and immediately gasped, my hand flying to my heart like that of a lady in need of smelling salts.

  Standing before me in the same suit he’d put on that morning was my very own husband, looking rumpled and travel-worn and exceedingly sexy.

  We fell into a hug and I drank in the scent of him: business meetings, airplanes, his own musky, masculine perfume.

  “Oh, god, it’s so great to see you. How did you manage to get down here?”

  “How could I stay away? Where’s that bed?”

  “Let me show you the Jacuzzi first.” I pulled him into the bathroom and flicked on the lights over the tub. “Doesn’t that curtain look like a cunt?”

  “It does, indeed. A nice, swollen, wet one.” Will wiggled his eyebrows at me and looked around the room approvingly. “I think we’ll have to try that shower, too. More than big enough for two.”

  “Sounds good, but first I have to show you that bed.” I grabbed his hand and almost skipped into the living room.

  “That’s one fucking big bed,” Will said, laughing. “The photo didn’t do it justice.”

  “That thing was just made for wild sex. I can only imagine all the things that went on there.”

  Will put his arm around my waist. “In about fifteen minutes, you won’t have to imagine anything. Let’s take a quick shower and then burn that mattress to cinders.”

  “When do you have to be back?”

  “I’m on the seven a.m. flight, but that leaves us a good five hours to play.”

  I laughed and dragged him over to the dressing room. “See, they provided an extra robe for me. That sweet young clerk who gave me the tour must have guessed I was the type to invite in extra company.”

  “All you famous authors hire gigolos to service you on the road, don’t you?” Will said, loosening his tie.

  I retired to the bathroom to wait for him, anxious to see him in that sexy robe. As I gazed at my flushed face in the mirror over the sink, I had to grin. I was truly the luckiest woman on earth. When we had big-bed sex, my husband always seemed to guess a desire I never even knew I had until he coaxed it forth from my fevered flesh and mind. I felt my breath come faster, my pulse quicken. What secret would he discover inside me tonight?

  Just then Will stepped up behind me, the pure white of the terry cloth setting off his olive skin to perfection.

  “How’s my star?” he whispered, embracing me from behind.

  “The lighting in here kind of makes everyone look like one, doesn’t it?”

  “But you really are,” he said in a low, insistent voice. Our gazes met in the mirror. “And I’m the fortunate man you’ve chosen to service your every need.”

  I felt a sweet tightening between my legs. I’d swear Will had slipped inside my head and taken careful note of all my filthy fantasies about Brendan.

  “Would Madame like a shower to relax her after a hard day greeting her fans? I’m well-trained in massage—and other forms of manual pleasure.”

  I caught my breath. How did he know? Of course, I could play my part just as well.

  “As a matter of fact, I could use a little refreshment,” I replied in my best imitation of a grande dame. “You come in the shower with me, of course. You can use those well-trained hands to wash me—everywhere.”

  Will went over to turn on the shower, holding his hand briefly under the spray to test the temperature. Then he came up behind me again, untied the sash of my robe and pulled it down over my shoulders.

  “So beautiful,” he murmured. “I’m going to enjoy my work very much tonight.”

  I felt another stab of lust low in my belly. Why was this turning me on so much? I’d never buy a man, never take advantage of any power I might have in real life to obtain sexual favors. But something about this absurdly luxurious room, that waiting bed, brought out my sense of entitlement. Every woman who stayed at the Beverly Hills Hotel deserved a willing servant to cater to her most selfish whim.

  “Believe me, young man, I’m going to make sure you work very hard tonight,” I replied with my new hauteur.

  Will caught my eye and smiled then dipped his head modestly.

  We stepped under the pounding spray together. I handed him the large bottle of body wash. “Spread this all over me. And remember that the dirty places need an extralong scrubbing.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he said, squirting a large blob of the viscous white cream onto his palm. With slow, circling strokes, he spread the soap over my shoulders, back and arms. The water washed it away as quickly as he applied it, but still he massaged me conscientiously, working his way down my back to my buttocks.

  I turned to face him. “Do the front of me now.”

  With a submissive nod, he squeezed out another generous mess of cream and set to work on my breasts. I arched back and moaned at the sensation of his slippery hands on my sensitive nipples.

  “Keep doing that. I need a good cleaning there.”

  “Yes, ma’am. I see this is especially relaxing for you, ma’am.”

  After several minutes of a very skillful massage, my clit was clamoring for equal time. “Wash me between my legs now. I definitely need to freshen up down there.”

  “I understand, ma’am.” Will replenished his wad of soap and lathered up my pubic hair, his fingers creeping lower. Shamelessly, I spread my legs and rocked my hips, slithering back and forth over his slick hand.

  And still my greedy body wanted more.

  “Do your offerings include anal eroticism, young man?” I panted.

  After a pause, Will answered, “It’s my specialty, ma’am.”

  “Then wash me well there, too. I’ll be curious to sample your skills when I take you to my bed.”

  Will’s cock was already stiff, but it twitched noticeably at my latest order. Was he as turned on by this as I was?

  “I expect you charge extra for a good ass-licking,” I added peevishly.

  “Usually I do, ma’am, but tonight I’d like to extend my complimentary services.”

  I almost laughed, but Will looked so earnest, I managed to stay in character. Still, when my husband slid a frothy finger up and down along the valley of my ass, I couldn’t restrain a moan. He circled the tight ring of muscle gently. I gasped and moaned again. My knees were so wobbly, I had to press one hand to the glass to keep my balance.

  “Perhaps you should relax in bed now, ma’am?”

  “Yes, I believe I am ready to retire for the evening.”

  I let my valet do all the work of drying me off. He even knelt before me to towel off my legs and feet, his own body still dripping wet. Then he held my robe for me and tied the sash securely.

  “Get yourself ready, then join me,” I snapped and glided regally off to the living room.

  Plumping up all the pillows against the center of the headboard, I pulled back the quilt and lounged back like an Egyptian queen.

  A few minutes later, Will appeared at the side of the bed in his robe, his wet hair carefully combed.

  I looked him up and down appraisingly. “As you know, I’m rather tired and I’m not really in the mood to be giving you directions every step of the way. So I’ll leave the details to you, although I am expecting a good showing of your particular… expertise.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Will, said, his eyes lowered. He started to climb up onto the bed.

  I put a hand on his arm. “Take off that robe. I prefer to see you work in the nude.”

  Nodding once, Will dropped his robe to the carpet. I noticed his cock rearing up at a dizzying angle. I so wanted to suck it, but that would have to wait for another screenplay.

  He stretched out beside me and leaned over to kiss one nipple and flick the other between his strong fingers. He’d done this to me a thousand times, and yet tonight I sensed a new, almost professional dedication, as if he were doing his best to please a demanding customer. His attentions paid off. My breasts seemed to swell a full cup size, they were so heavy and aching, and my pussy wa
s drooling all over the sheets.

  Finally I rested my hand on his head, nudging him downward, the way a boorish man might hint for a blow job. Will obediently kissed his way down my belly to my mons then spread my legs reverently. He lay on his belly between my thighs, his long legs dangling over the bottom of the bed.

  He touched his tongue to my sweet spot.

  I groaned and pushed up to him.

  He teased me for a few licks then found his familiar rhythm. I burrowed back into the pillow and sighed. At home I tried to hurry my arousal to meet his, but here I thoughtlessly abandoned myself to my own pleasure because if I wanted to, I could have him lick my pussy all night long. I must have squirmed and mewed for quite some time before Will pulled away and asked me, with great deference, to roll onto my belly so he could proceed with his “special service.”

  I wasn’t about to refuse.

  He slipped two pillows under my hips and arranged my knees just so. Then he began to kiss my buttocks, softly, moving ever closer to the crack. I pushed my ass out, opening myself for him. I felt something wet and silky probing my sensitive furrow.

  “Oh, god, yes, you are good,” I breathed. Will had pleasured me this way before, but this time felt especially dirty and delicious. In my mind I saw him kneeling behind me, dressed just like sturdy little Brendan with his good manners and his bright smile.

  It was hard to beat the service at the Beverly Hills Hotel.

  “Fuck me now,” I ordered. Granted, I hadn’t allowed him much time for a full display of his rimming skills, but this was all about what I wanted, and I wanted Will inside me when I came.

  “Which position would you prefer this evening, ma’am?”

  “Doggy-style, naturally,” I barked.

  “As you wish, ma’am.” Will got up on his knees, probed me with the head of his cock then pushed all the way in. His thrusts were slow and careful, professional, as if he meant to maximize the sensation along every inch of my vagina.

  “Would you like me to touch you in the front, ma’am?”

  “Yes. And move a little faster inside me but not so fast that you come.”

  “Understood, ma’am,” he said, his voice husky.

  It usually took me a while to come this way, but I was so turned on, Will’s attentions to my clit set my mind spinning and my thighs shaking.

  “Faster, fuck me faster,” I cried out as I felt my orgasm gather and explode around his pounding dick, rolling up my spine like a fireball. I screamed, ramming myself back onto him, milking him with each contraction. When it was over, I collapsed facedown on the mattress. My whole body was covered in sweat. Will waited until my breathing slowed before he pulled out and took me in his arms.

  “Did I meet your needs satisfactorily, ma’am?” he asked sweetly.

  “Indeed. You’re getting a great big tip tonight, young man.” I hugged him tighter, noting his slick cock, still rock hard, pressing against my thigh. “But tell me what you want now,” I said in my own voice, as I closed my hand around him.

  Will sighed at my touch but shifted ever so slightly away. “I thought I’d save myself for the second round. I’d feel lacking in my duty if I didn’t provide Madame with at least two orgasms tonight.”

  I laughed, but I wasn’t surprised. This was Big-Bed Sex. And it was only going to get better.

  MY DARK KNIGHT

  Jacqueline Applebee

  I’m a not-so-hopeless romantic. I believe that chivalry still exists, I hope to find quiet nobility in the most random of places, and I believe that people who love each other can live happily ever after. I’ve been let down by men in the past and have dated too many who thought that women were only useful in bed, who didn’t want anything to do with me in the morning. Despite all of this, I’m still a dreamer, a wisher and a lover of flights of fancy. However, I never believed in knights in shining armor, not until I met Omar. The knights of old that I’d seen in films and read about in books never looked like him; Omar was lean, with gorgeous ebony skin and sweet brown eyes.

  I had seen him at an organic café in Hackney, East London, a few times, always rushing around behind the counter busily helping out. We had exchanged no more than a handful of words, and I’m sure he never remembered me when I visited for chocolate cake and coffee. It took me three trips and several portions of sticky pudding before I learned his name.

  He wasn’t there when I arrived on Wednesday after work, so I sat feeling decidedly lonely as I waited for my food to arrive. The café was crowded and hot; the weather in East London was humid and sticky. An upright fan pushed warm air over me, and I wondered why on earth I had come here today. Of course, I knew why; it was to see Omar.

  I felt like a schoolgirl longing after someone unattainable; I had written his name in my address pad, even though I had no idea where he lived. I thought of him when I should have kept my mind on other things, and I longed to be close to him. I’m supposed to be a sensible woman, but whenever I thought of Omar, I seemed to lose all the sense that I was born with.

  I ached for him to touch me. I had spent too many nights fantasizing about that tall good-looking man. He would hold me tightly as he kissed me on the hollow of my collarbone. He would lick slow strokes up my throat, while his wide hands reached lower to my breasts to squeeze…. I could feel myself growing aroused where I sat, and I remembered that this was a public place; they probably wouldn’t appreciate me moaning and groaning at my table.

  My frothy coffee arrived first. I enjoyed the strong aroma before taking a sip. It was so good that by the time my dark chocolate cake arrived, I had almost finished my beverage. The waitress gave me a funny look as she placed my cake in front of me. I shrugged; the world was full of odd folk. As she walked back to the counter, I realized that Omar had arrived. He did a double take as he looked over at me. I flushed, although I didn’t know why I was feeling like that; I had longed for him to notice me, and now he had. He made his way to my table and leaned over to collect my empty coffee cup. I watched, mesmerized, as a bead of sweat rolled down his hot skin, tantalizingly slowly. I wanted to reach out and trace it with my fingertips. Omar caught me staring. I felt the blood rush to my cheeks once more.

  “How are you doing?” he asked pleasantly. I took a breath before smiling back up at him. I was about to say something witty and flirtatious, when someone else called out his name. He raised his arm in a wave before turning back to me.

  “It’s good to see you again, Philomena.”

  “Olivia,” I corrected him quickly. “My name is Olivia.”

  This time it was his turn to look embarrassed. I watched his retreating form as he trotted behind the counter to serve another customer, and I sighed. That’s what I was to him, I mused; I was just another customer. But he was not just another waiter; he was so much more to me. I just wished that I could let him know that.

  I replayed our brief meeting in my head as I licked gooey chocolate off the back of my teaspoon. Why hadn’t I noticed the little tattoo of a shield on his arm before, or that he smelled like cakes and bread and sweet treats? And then I noticed something on the spoon; my reflection looked strange. I started with horror, seeing that I was now sporting a milky moustache above my lips; the froth stood out on my brown skin. I realized that I must have done that while gulping down my coffee. What must Omar have thought? I quickly wiped the foam from my mouth with a grimace.

  I was shaken from my self-pitying thoughts as an elderly man entered the café, propelled along by a big spotty dog. I’m scared of dogs, and this one looked particularly mean, so I drew myself up and sat rigid as it approached me.

  “Hey, you can’t bring a dog in here!” Omar called out to the old man.

  “Alfie always let me bring her in,” the man retorted, waving his walking stick defiantly. By now, the dog was sniffing around my table. The creature looked up at me and then barked loudly. I willed the beast to go away, but as I’ve said before, chivalry is not dead. Omar took hold of the dog’s leash and led it away o
utside. I could see him secure the dog to a post outside the café, and then he ran back inside to return with a bowl of water for the mutt.

  “Now, you know Alfie isn’t in charge anymore. This is my café, and if you want to eat here, you’ll play by my rules.”

  The old man made a complaining noise, but he sat down. I breathed a sigh of relief. It was only then that I realized that I was shaking. I took another deep breath and exhaled slowly, willing my body to calm down. What a day I was having! First I had made a fool of myself with the coffee, and now I was trembling like a scared child.

  “Are you okay, Olivia?” Omar’s voice was the soothing balm that my body needed. I felt myself relax instantly. “I’m sorry about the old fella and his dog,” he said, trying to catch my eye, but I stared down at the table instead.

  “I’m fine,” I lied quietly. “I think I’d better go.”

  Omar’s hand on my shoulder was firm but gentle as he said, “At least let me get you a cup of chamomile tea. It will calm those jitters in a snap.”

  I stood and stepped out of his grasp. My feet carried me out of the front door. I willed myself to not turn around and see Omar’s disappointed face as I left. I inched past the dog that was still drinking from the bowl, and I scampered down the road.

  By the time I reached the train station, my heart had stopped pounding, and I was trying my best to put on a brave face. It was only when sweet brown eyes looked into mine that I realized Omar was standing in front of me. He sat down on the bench beside me. We remained silent for a moment as the evening commuters walked around us.

  “I didn’t want you to leave like that,” Omar started. “I mean, I wanted you to know that I’m so sorry for what happened. I wanted to make it up to you.”

  “It’s all right,” I mumbled.

  “No, it’s not. You’re a good customer, and it’s always nice to see you. I would hate it if you felt driven away.”