32. London
Ilay in bed for about an hour, contemplating relieving the ache between my legs by myself. But every time my hand slid downward, a resentful desire for more stopped me.
There was no way I resented Kelly. That would make me a heartless bitch. I was glad Murray wanted to be there for her through everything going on in her life.
But my touch was not a substitute for his.
His touch made my body zing with crackling energy, like I was truly alive and awake for the first time in my life.
The longer I lay there, the more I began to realize that I didn’t want Kelly to know just yet that things were changing and progressing between me and her father.
She didn’t need the uncertainty of such a big transformation in her life again.
But this … this was a big house and there was nothing to stop Murray and I enjoying a physical relationship without the other occupant knowing.
So, why was I lying here alone when I could be lying on top of Murray Shaw?
Pulse rushing, I threw off my duvet and got out of bed. I quietly and quickly changed into a silk cami and short set Nee bought me for Christmas last year and dragged a brush through my hair. A quick once-over in the mirror revealed I was decent enough, and I tiptoed hurriedly out of the bedroom.
The house was so quiet and dark it made my heart race even harder as I tried to cross the upper hallway without the floorboards creaking. Every time one did, my heartbeat would skyrocket. I was flushed, palms clammy, by the time I was even halfway downstairs.
When I finally made it onto the ground floor that didn’t squeak at all underfoot, I skittered across it and paused at Murray’s closed bedroom door. I raised my fist to knock and then paused.
Was it inappropriate to do this with a teenager in the house?
I lowered my arm.
But then … Murray seemed to be fully intending to sleep with me when we first came into the house.
I lifted my fist again.
What if it was a difficult conversation with Kelly, though, and it had killed his libido for the night?
I was about to lower my arm when his bedroom door flew open and Murray stood in the moonlit doorway, half-naked in pajama trousers. Suddenly, I found myself yanked inside as he growled “Thank fuck” against my lips before his mouth took mine.
I heard the door snick shut and then I was abruptly lifted upward.
My legs automatically hooked around his hips and back as he kissed me hungrily.
The heat between my legs pressed up against his hard stomach and I wanted to move lower.
I wanted to rub myself all over him. It was a desperate need, one I’d never felt before.
There’d been good sex in my past … but not one of those encounters had felt like this.
So overwhelming in the best way, I could barely catch my breath.
I was so into the kiss, I was surprised when my knees hit something soft seconds before Murray’s hard cock pressed between my thighs.
Gasping, shivering, I broke the embrace and realized Murray had moved us to the edge of his bed.
He sat on it and I straddled him, my knees hitting the duvet on either side of his hips.
“Is Kelly okay?” I whispered.
Murray brushed my hair back from my face, his touch as tender and gentle and the opposite of his molten gaze. “She’s fine. I’ll explain later. But right now is about you and me. And I promised you, you could take the lead. So … what are you going to do with me, wife?”
It was interesting just how hot him calling me his wife made me. Who knew that was a kink? My clit throbbed and I suddenly hated his pajama pants with a fiery passion.
In answer, I slid off him, watching his brows furrow in confusion. That confusion melted away when I reached for the hem of my cami and pulled it up over my head.
“Fuck,” he muttered as he stared at my naked breasts like he was seeing breasts for the first time. It occurred to me he cursed more when he was turned on. His cock pulled on the fabric of his pajamas as it strained toward him.
Delighted, I grinned with smugness, which only made his countenance turn hungrier. My breasts jiggled as I bent over slightly to remove my shorts and Murray’s groan was so loud, I had to remind him to be quiet in a hushed, giggling whisper.
Once I was naked, I approached him and he reached for me like he couldn’t help himself—he had to touch me. I shivered as he skated the back of his knuckles across my left nipple. “Not yet,” I admonished teasingly before curling my fingers into the waistband of his pajamas and boxer briefs. “Lift.”
Murray sucked in a breath as he leaned back on his hands and lifted his hips so I could peel off his pants and underwear. Once he was naked, I took a second or two to enjoy the view.
Strong, sculpted thigh muscles and calves, dark hair on his lower legs and broad chest. And his cock … well, that was bigger and thicker than I’d even guessed at as it strained proudly between his thighs, waiting for my attention.
My belly clenched and unclenched over and over; I was so wet for him, and he hadn’t even touched me yet.
“I … I have condoms in my bathroom cabinet.” He moved to get up.
“Stay.” I turned and walked toward the bathroom, surprisingly not self-conscious at all about him seeing me totally naked.
“Your arse is a thing of beauty, woman,” he growled behind me.
I grinned to myself, giving it a little shake that made him groan before I disappeared into the bathroom.
When was the last time sex felt playful and free?
Maybe never. Because no one had ever made me feel as safe as Murray did.
My heart clenched in my chest even as my clit pulsed insistently between my thighs.
Murray’s bathroom was all tiled marble and black accents, but I was too impatient to enjoy how luxurious it was. A quick rummage through his medicine cabinet revealed all the usual things, and hidden at the back was a box of condoms and some lube.
When I returned to the bedroom, I took out a condom and dropped the box on the floor.
Murray watched me, his chest moving in shallow, excited breaths as I climbed onto the bed to straddle him.
My breasts nudged against his face as I took his hand and slid it between my legs.
“We won’t need the lube,” I informed him hoarsely.
Murray gently prodded me with his fingers and when they slid inside me with ease, he rested his forehead against my breasts and let out a sexy grunt. Then his thumb found my clit, and I rode his hand as he stared up at my face like I was the most incredible thing he’d ever seen.
My fingers clenched around the condom so hard the foil bit into my palm, but I didn’t care. “I want … I want …”
“Tell me what you want,” he demanded.
“You inside.” I frantically tore at the condom wrapper and slid backward a little to give me room to sheathe him.
“Let me.” Murray gently took it and rolled it down his big cock with efficient speed, apparently just as eager as I was.
I lifted my hips as he guided himself with his hand to my entrance.
“Yes, yes,” I murmured desperately and then I pushed downward, gasping at the overwhelming, hot, hard thickness filling me so completely, it was like Murray was everywhere.
It burned a little, a pinching sensation somewhere between pleasure and pain as I adjusted around him.
“Oh God.” I grasped his shoulders, remembering at the last second to lower my voice.
Murray clenched his jaw, as his fingers clenched into my ass. “So tight,” he gasped out.
“I think it’s the size of your cock rather than the tightness of my vagina.” I trembled as we held each other until my inner muscles relaxed around him.
Murray let out a low laugh, which caused him to move inside me, and pleasure zinged up my spine.
“Oh. Oh.” I tentatively pushed up on my knees, sliding up him before lowering back down on him, shivering with need as my burgeoning orgasm coiled inside me like a spring.
“Yes, yes.” I began to ride him. Our eyes locked as I lifted slowly and eased back down on him over and over again.
Even though I’d never seen such abject hunger in a man’s expression, Murray didn’t speak.
He just let me take what I wanted from him.
And it was hot as hell.
When his gaze dropped to my breasts, I lifted one to him in offering, and Murray immediately cupped it, squeezing and kneading until I writhed with the sensory overload. He drew my nipple into his mouth and my inner muscles clenched around him in response.
His eyes flared as he stared up at me, his tongue flicking over my nipple, making me wetter.
I tried to keep my escalating pants and gasps stifled, but it was difficult when I wanted to cry out his name.
Then suddenly he lay back on the bed, changing the angle of his penetration, and I bit my lip to stifle my shout as the tension inside me intensified.
Leaning forward, my palms roamed over his stomach possessively, caressed his chest, my thumbs catching on his nipples.
I took great satisfaction in watching Murray attempt to stifle in his own sex sounds.
“Ride me from below.” I pressed my palms to his chest to steady myself in anticipation.
Surprise crossed his expression as his hands squeezed my hips in reaction to the demand. “Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
When he thrust upward, I arched my back in response and clamped a hand over my mouth.
“Fuck.” Murray growled and then he flexed his hips faster, harder, hitting the perfect spot deep inside me.
“Oh God, oh yes, oh God, Murray, Murray,” I whispered frantically as I met his upward thrusts, riding down on him, my hips moving over his, faster, desperate.
“Fuck … fuck …London …” He sat up abruptly and caught my cry of surprise in his mouth. His kiss was ravenous, dirty, wet, and so delicious that the tension in me hit the breaking point.