Page 38 of All Mine
But that thought made her think about his cock and roll her eyes at herself in the bathroom mirror. She had a feeling he had earned his sexual reputation by being pretty good in bed. If he could make her feel like this with all her clothes on, then what would it feel like to be naked with him? Her eyes found her own again in the mirror. They were wild-looking, dark, her cheeks pink. She threw her head back in frustration and growled low in her throat.
God, she was horny.
Opening her bathroom drawer, she selected a vibrator– a big one– with him in mind. The quiet buzz was like the hello of an old friend. She held it lightly to her chest bone and watched herself. The white lacy bra and matching knickers she wore would have offered no resistance if he’d wanted to remove them. She flicked one strap from her shoulder and revealed one of her full breasts, noticing the peak of the nipple tighten as the air in the bathroom touched it. She cupped herself, letting her fingers run trails around the areola. Her eyes were darker now and she reached round to release her bra, letting it fall to the floor. She held the vibrator between them and allowed the hum to throb through her body.
What would he think if he saw her now?
She let her gaze run up and down her body. The strong arms from physical work in the restaurant. The slim waist between heavy breasts and rounded hips. The soft curve of her belly where it disappeared into her underwear. She focused on the exact place he had put his hand earlier. Felt his gentle touch. Wished it was still there. And realised that her vibrator was not going to do the job tonight.
She wanted his hands on her.
She turned the vibrator off and tossed it back into its drawer. Opening her phone, she scrolled to photos and clicked on ‘most recent’. There it was. She heard a sound escape her mouth as she looked at the image. His thumb, almost but not quite touching the top of her pants. His fingers spanning towards her breasts. Her own skin felt feverish to the touch when she replaced his hand with hers.
Excruciatingly slowly, as if it was the first time she was being touched by him, she skimmed her hand downwards. She pushed forward involuntarily, wanting more pressure, more contact. Her palm cupped her sex, allowing her fingers to reach beneath her and feel the sodden silk of her underwear.
She looked again at the photo, imagining what Etienne would do next. She could imagine the green glints of his eyes, the curl of hair at the nape of his neck. Drawing her hand back up to her stomach, she parted her legs and felt the cool of the air there. Her fingers eased under her pants, gliding over the soft skin of her until she slid her middle finger between her slick lips. The heat was intense as she pushed one finger, then two, deep inside her, feeling her eyes close at the same time. Her body set its own rhythm, moving forwards and back with each thrust. She imagined his fingers moving out and up to massage her clitoris, and jolted with the pleasure of the first circle, her mouth falling open, her knees feeling weak. She was so close.
The speed of her fingers increased, driving a moan from her mouth, and she felt the internal pressure building until she could hear her own breath, ragged and panting as she imagined his fingers on the swollen bud of her body. She pinched her clitoris once, twice, and then she was clutching the sink, holding on for dear life as she exploded inside.
She opened her eyes in the mirror and saw herself come undone.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Etienne
Etienne’s bedroom faced directly across the square to Isabella’s flat. He watched the lights go on upstairs and imagined her inside. Turning off his own lights, he stood in the shadows, faced the window and waited, imagining her wandering around, taking off make-up, removing clothes.
She’d surprised him tonight. Firstly, with her honesty about her story. Why she was here. And secondly, by not giving in to him.
It had been the perfect scenario. An empty restaurant, a bed upstairs, a good measure of whisky. And yet she’d still managed to say no to him.
Why she would do it was beyond him. Why deny herself the pleasure?
Her silhouette appeared in the window briefly, tugging the gap in the curtains shut. He hardened at the memory of her stomach under his hand, the way her pulse had fluttered in the skin of her belly beneath his palm.
As Isabella’s flat was plunged into darkness, he wanted to plunge his hands into her pants and feel the silkiness of her.
She might have said no to him tonight, but he could see she was fighting herself on it.
He couldn’t wait for her to give in.
He loosened his jeans and let his cock spring free. Taking his hot, thick shaft in his hands, he thought about how it would feel to have her hands on him. He closed his eyes and stroked the length of himself, imagining her skin on his own.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Isabella
The following weekend, half of the population of Honeybridge made the most of a sunny day in September and turned out at the fire service fundraiser. The fire station was bedecked with bunting, and the fire engines were parked on the forecourt, teeming with kids. Loudspeakers played music and heralded announcements. There was to be a static bike challenge, a cash prize hoopla, a car wash service and the secondary school jazz band were performing. All proceeds went to help those people in need after they’d been affected by fire, like the Malones that Isabella had met before. Rosie had told her the fundraiser was Walker’s brainchild and had become an annual event.
Isabella turned up as the children from the primary school took their places for a street dancing competition. Amber dragged her to the side to watch, pointing out Jayden in the back row. She signed him a good luck message and Jayden signed back, hand to chin, with a thank you. He was rocking a T-shirt tied in a knot in front and had his hair in an Afro Mohican with double tramlines down each side and electric blue hearing aids. He was the coolest ten-year-old boy Isabella had ever seen.
Her impression was reinforced three minutes later, after he’d torn up the makeshift stage, breakdancing at the speed of light. The crowd roared. Amber waved her hands in applause instead of clapping and Isabella copied her, seeing several of the other mums that knew Jayden do the same. He bowed and waved and bowed again, then circled the stage with a collection bucket which was heavy by the time he handed it over to the firefighter standing nearby. He was still grinning as he ran over to his mum. Amber squeezed him tight; he allowed it for a split second before shrugging her off and dashing into the crowd to find his friends.
‘God, I love him,’ Amber said with a shake of her head. ‘I’m grabbing every single minute with him this year because this is his last year at primary and he’s going to grow up so fast.’
‘He’s so good at dancing!’ Isabella said, amazed.
‘My boy’s got rhythm,’ Amber said proudly. ‘Even if he can’t hear the music, he can feel the vibration and count the beat. He loves it.’
