Читать книгу Too Fast For Love: Opportunist Encounters - Various, Glenda Jackson - Страница 5

The bell made me look up. I put my chopsticks in my soup bowl and straightened up to try and peek. It was hard to see a clear way from the counter to the front door with all the stock I’d just bought.

Maybe it was best I didn’t see him coming. The look of him slammed me like a fist wrapped in cotton.

‘I’m looking for a dress.’

‘You’d look much better in a vintage suit, if you don’t mind me saying,’ I teased.

I was shocked I got even that out. He was tall and broad and looked very much a thug from the 1920s. His dark hair so close-cut it almost looked like he was bald on first glance. He had dark-brown eyes – so fucking dark you couldn’t distinguish the pupil from the iris – and they seemed to see right down into the bones and meat of me.

But he smiled and, when he twisted his mouth that way, something in me twisted.

Jesus.

‘I think you’re right. But the dress isn’t for me. It’s for this girl I’m seeing. For a party my boss’s wife is throwing. A tea party.’ He wrinkled his nose when he said it and I laughed.

My ears picked up two things. The way he said ‘this girl’ meant she wasn’t a serious thing. He didn’t say ‘my girlfriend’ or ‘my fiancée’ or ‘the woman I’m dating’. It was way more casual than that, and that sent a shiver up my spine like a tiny piece of ice being dragged along my skin.

‘I see. You sound very excited about this tea party.’

‘I’d rather be dipped in shit. Or boiled in oil.’ He stuck out his hand. ‘Mack.’

‘Gretchen. And I think I have just the thing. Believe it or not, today of all days, a woman brought in a whole case of clothes from her great-grandmother’s attic. At least three of them are tea dresses.’

‘No shit,’ he said. He spoke like a thug too. But those eyes were intelligent and underneath the beleaguered I-am-annoyed gaze … soft. Kind.

I imagined his hands on me, I couldn’t help it. And, when I let myself go there, a slick rush of fluid slipped free of me, staining my panties with my sudden and intense interest.

I sucked in a shuddery breath. ‘No shit. Can I get them out for you?’

That’s when he really stopped to look at me. His dark gaze dragging from my chocolate-coloured bob cut to my sweetheart-neckline sweater to my pencil skirt. And then back up again.

Heat and lust rushed colour to my cheeks and he didn’t miss it. Not for a second. ‘Yeah. Get them out for me, Gretch. If you will.’

He planted his meaty hands on my spotless glass counter. I’d just washed it. But I didn’t mind. I was too busy trying to breathe without panting like a dog.

‘Be right back.’

I hurried off. When had my shop gotten so close? So tiny? There didn’t seem to be enough air in the place for me and Mack. But I would make do. I would have to.

I pulled the first dress from the garment bag. A butter-yellow frock with crinoline beneath the skirt. Low-cut without being slutty, floaty without being too much of a princess dress. I put my hair up … down … up and then down again. Letting it float around my face as I tried to steady my breathing.

‘What the fuck,’ I sighed and nixed the panties, leaving them in a heap on the floor in the corner of the dressing room. When I exited, I pushed my feet into taupe-coloured heels someone had brought in on consignment.

‘All in,’ I said and, as I passed the front door, I quietly flipped the sign to CLOSED and locked the door by pressing the button on the knob.

I rounded the corner to find him lounging in my chair behind the counter like he owned the joint. The cocky nature of his demeanour made me squirm beneath the dress. I wanted him. There was no denying what my body was saying.

‘Nice,’ he grunted. And, as if Mack could read my thoughts or feel the lust coming off of me, he crooked a finger at me and said, ‘Come here. Give us a close-up look.’

I stepped to him as if we’d done this a thousand times before instead of having just met. He ran a thick finger over the smooth embroidered skirt of the dress. I felt each stroke he left on the fabric as if he’d touched me. I licked my lips and waited.

‘I like the cut. How it shows off your legs. Of course, your legs are better than hers.’ With that, his hand cupped the back of my knee and I felt my legs go weak.

‘Nice calves,’ he went on, moving just a bit so his reach allowed him to run his cupped palm from the back of my knee down the hard muscle of my calves.

Inside me, odd things were happening. A tingling buzz had taken up residence in my tummy and my pussy constricted eagerly around nothing at all. But it was all too easy to picture it growing tight around his thrusting cock. I’d lay odds his cock was thick and sturdy like his fingers.

‘But it’s a tiny bit too short,’ Mack grumbled. ‘Because I can do this.’ His hand surged up the back of my thigh, damn near buckling my legs, and found my right buttock. That hand felt as big as a catcher’s mitt warmed in the sun.

I sighed and he gave me a crooked grin. Out of nowhere he pulled his hand free of my ass and then smacked it back down again, fast and hard. I jumped and my muscles went stiff with shock.

‘You said there were more?’

I nodded, not trusting my voice or my perpetually thumping cunt at this point. If I moved, I thought I might come. I waited.

‘I want to see another one. That OK with you?’

His hand was once again resting nonchalantly on my calf and my muscles tingled and twitched. Only his thumb was moving in restless little sweeps along my skin. I nodded.

‘Then let’s see one. My favourite colour is green,’ he said. ‘Just an FYI.’

I hurried away, fearful my pussy was so wet I’d leave marks on the dress. Fearful that he could hear my heart. Fearful that he could smell my lust on the air. And entirely turned on.

I wrestled free of the butter-yellow dress and tossed it haphazardly on a wooden hanger. Then I found what I was looking for in the bag. A sea-foam-green frock with a square neckline and a lace hem.

I stepped into it, being careful not to snag the heel of my shoe on the stitching. And trying very hard not to fall over. That would totally not be sexy. I fluffed the skirt and twirled once in the mirror. My gut was currently in my throat and my pulse a wild untamed thing that made my head ache with its rhythm.

I pushed the curtain back and walked as slowly as I could. Forcing myself to breathe. Forcing myself to exude sex. Not that I really felt I needed to. There had been this lightning strike of attraction between us from the get-go. The sight of him in my chair only solidified it – legs splayed, hand resting on his fly where a very real, very obvious erection pushed against the black fabric of his trousers.

‘I like it,’ he said, motioning me forward. His hand found the back of my knee as if he’d touched me a million times before. My body responded as if he had.

I puffed out air softly, almost like I was trying to shout but had no voice, when he slid his hand high up the back of my leg, beneath the virginal floaty skirt of the tea dress. He cupped that tight muscle along the back of my thigh that got taut and sore when I ran too many times in a week. And then he was holding my ass cheek in his big hand, giving it tiny little squeezes that made my juices flow more aggressively.

‘You have the ass of a thoroughbred,’ he told me.

‘Is that a compliment?’

He squeezed again and then his hand meandered around my hipbone to my front. He was suddenly – blissfully – palming my mound now. ‘Does it feel like a compliment?’

‘God, yes,’ I wheezed.

Mack gave a single nod of his giant head and very nonchalantly parted my nether lips with his thick fingers. Instantly, he located the tight bud of my clitoris, now screaming with want and blood, and stroked me there. My knees shook, threatening to dump me on my ass, but I tightened my muscles and forced myself to breathe.

‘You’re slick. In green. Wet like the ocean. Green like sea water, green like grass. Wet and slick and all in green.’ He chuckled out his nonsense sentences and then pushed a broad finger into me.

A bubble of laughter burst out of me. It felt good. Too good. And what was I doing? I had never done this before in my store. But then again, I’d never ever felt any on-the-spot lust close to this before. Not this consuming.

He fucked me with his broad fingers, never pulling those dark eyes away. ‘Good?’

I could only nod. Steadying myself with one hand on his broad shoulder. Under the cloth he was warm and sturdy and I imagined I could feel his heartbeat, a wild current running up into my fingers and travelling up my arm.

‘I have a pink one,’ I managed. My tongue was too big for my mouth, my heartbeat too loud to hear above.

‘Do you now?’

Another nod from me and Mack caught my wrist in his hand and pulled me so I bent over him. He peeked down the front of my modest square neckline and then pushed my hand over the hard ridge of his cock. He was long and thick and held at bay by nothing more than a pair of grey slacks and whatever he was sporting underneath.

His big hand crushed my much smaller one around his erection and he thrust up hard and fast – just enough to show me what it would be like were he thrusting into me.

‘This girl –’ I started, cocking an eyebrow at him. Forcing myself to meet his gaze.

‘Is just a girl. Not a girlfriend, not a fiancée, not a wife. Just a girl. Now go put the other one on.’

I believed him and I hurried off on my taupe high heels, feeling like the devil was on my tail, prompting me to sin. I loved it.

The pink dress had a ruched bodice that cinched me up and showed off my tits. It gave the illusion of a wasp waist from the way it flared out. A very unsubtle sweep of cotton-candy-pink fabric. Along the hem on the left side was a series of small hearts stitched in silver thread. It was the only adornment. Which is why I liked the pink one the best, though I normally loathed pink.

But this pink made me think of lips and tongues, kisses and fucking, soft wet things and orgasms. Or that could just be the way my mind was working right about now.

‘Are you coming?’ He chuckled.

‘Not yet, but soon,’ I murmured under my breath.

I hurried out, the curtain of the dressing room billowing behind me. I passed the front door and watched a parade of people on their lunch break stroll past. One woman headed to my door and my heart skipped a beat, but then she caught sight of the CLOSED sign and kept going.

‘Come on, cupcake,’ Mack growled and the fine hairs on my neck rose and tingled.

‘Coming,’ I breathed and hurried on. With a grand flourish, I stepped behind the counter and curtseyed.

He had his cock out. In hand. It didn’t even faze me. It seemed most logical, because we were going to fuck, after all. That was a no-brainer. Seeing him handling himself that way, stroking his hard-on with his huge hand, had a storm of emotions roiling in my gut. Excitement, fear, lust, want, anxiety. It was a heady mélange of feelings that left me breathless and weak-kneed.

‘Come on,’ he said.

So I went, forcing my stunned body to move towards him. I stood close enough that he barely had to reach out to touch me, and watched him – mesmerised by the motion of it – handle his cock.

‘Kneel for me, Gretch,’ he said, using his instantaneous nickname for me.

I dropped to my knees, licking my lips. Quite often my eager show of need to suck cock was simply a ploy to turn my partner on. Not now. Not this time. This time I truly wanted to suck his cock. Wanted to feel the hard velvety tip of him slide along my lips like I was applying gloss. I wanted to taste that first salty drop of pre-come and swirl my tongue around the impudent helmeted tip of him. I wanted it all so much that I was already leaning in to do all of that and more.

Mack moved back just a bit and laughed. ‘Look at you. Just gagging for it. Hold on.’

Then he wrapped his hand in my hair, forming a tether, and yanked so my head went back and my eyes went to his. ‘Just so we’re on the same page. You’re going to suck my cock.’

I tried to nod, forgetting his grip.

‘And then I’m going to do whatever I want.’

Again I tried to nod. Short memory and all that. He smiled at me. The hard lines of his rugged face softening for a moment. When I smiled back, he pushed my head forwards steadily but not hard enough to hurt me.

My mouth came down, lipsticked and desperate on the soap-scented skin of his cock. I trailed my tongue over the small drop of fluid at the tip, collecting it. When I sucked the head of his erection into the heat of my mouth, he made a noise in his throat. Forcing myself as low as I could go, I ate him up inch by inch until my lips almost touched the base of his erection. His pubic hair tickling at my nose. This close to his skin he smelled like the ocean and cold air. It was a good smell and I inhaled greedily both to steady my beating heart and take the scent of him into myself.

‘Good, good,’ he said. Almost like he was talking to himself.

His hand in my hair allowed me to turn my head just enough so that I could sweep my open mouth up one side of his length and down the other, my open-mouthed kiss making his skin wet as I dragged my lips. I felt his fingers tighten in my hair, saw his muscles bunch as he tensed in my chair.

‘Stand up, Gretch.’

But I chased him with my mouth instead, managing to snake my tongue out over him to taste him one more time. He gripped my hair tight and pulled my head back. With a short push, he moved me back and rose at the same time. Big hands curled to my dress-cinched waist and lifted me gently onto a short table behind the counter. It was where I folded clothing. The antique wooden table was small – the perfect size – taller than my chair but shorter than the glass counter. He dropped me there gently and pushed my fluffy skirt up around my waist, baring me to his gaze.

‘Hold your skirt up, princess,’ he said. And then he dropped back into my chair and rolled towards me, the casters sighing on the old linoleum floor.

His mouth was searing on my pussy lips, his tongue intrusive in the best possible way. Insinuating itself into my wet folds, seeking out and finding my rigid clitoris. I gripped the lip of the table and held on tight. I didn’t want to come so fast. Fuck. Not so fast.

He wasn’t gentle or shy about it. He pressed his mouth, generous for such a hard-looking man, to the lips of my pussy and ate me in earnest. I gripped the wood beneath my fingers hard and held myself at bay. Barely. I wanted to grab him and hold his shoulders and thrust up rudely against his seeking tongue, but managed not to. I let him do what he wanted. Which was taste me – slow but not too slow, rough but not too rough – fan-fucking-tastic. I thought I’d gotten away with it, but at the last minute he pressed my thighs wide with his strong hands and sucked my clit hard, bit it gently and then thrust his tongue into my weeping cunt before sucking again.

I came with the sound you would get if a laugh and a sob had a baby. My body shook uncontrollably as the orgasm rolled through me, little pink sparkles to match my tea dress blooming in the darkness behind my closed eyelids. He held me firm with his hands on my thighs as it lessened somewhat.

‘Don’t move.’ He stood, took his heavy cock in his hand and sidled up between my thighs. His legs pressed against the table, his button and zipper scraping at me a little as he stroked the head of his cock along the soaking wet split of me.

‘Move forward some,’ he finally commanded.

I did it. Lulled and mesmerised by his voice. The easy way he commanded without sounding like a jerk or a prick.

A single swift thrust brought him deep into me. My still tight pussy eating up his erection as he drove in hard. Big hands cupping my ass through the silly fluffery of my dress.

‘Kiss me, kiss me,’ I begged, finally speaking.

He did. My shoulder and then my neck so I shivered. Then my hair and my ear, before finally bringing his lips down on mine. His tongue tasting of my pussy. The musky sweet taste of my own sex and juices.

He hauled me forward roughly, grunting like a beast as he found a place inside of me that apparently pleased him very much. ‘Good,’ he said.

‘Good,’ I echoed, though I wasn’t sure if it had been a question. I was pretty sure it wasn’t.

Mack found my clit with his thumb and my pulse with his teeth. It wasn’t hard for him to make me wetter that way. Or make me beg. His mouth was sharp and insistent as it scraped my skin. His breath rolling bursts of thunder in my ear. He pressed that tiny hard nub of flesh that made me shiver and said, ‘Come on, Gretch, give it to me.’

No one was allowed to call me Gretch. I hated dirty talking – thought it was stupid.

Until now.

He pressed my clit again, rocking his hips just so until I felt the blissful tightening of internal muscles, the flood of heat, the apex of tension and then the blissful waterfall effect of a really strong orgasm.

‘There she is.’ He chuckled as I held his big biceps with my hands. My thighs trembled and my arms responded in kind.

‘Here I am.’ I pushed at him suddenly with my forearms. Shoving him back so he had to move.

His rough mug twisted into a smile. ‘Are we going to be that way?’

‘Yes … I mean no!’ I gasped. ‘Let me up. Please,’ I finished, ‘I need –’

Someone knocked on the door and my eyes flew to the clock. Oh shit. My one o’clock consignment appointment had arrived. Our eyes met, his impossibly dark, mine frantic, I’m sure. He cocked an eyebrow, waiting.

‘Ignore it,’ I blurted and pushed him a bit harder. My feet hit the floor and my knees did a little wiggly dance that threatened to spill me on my ass. My body was still throwing off brilliant echoes of my orgasm and I could feel heat in my cheeks like fire.

‘Where you going, Gretch?’ he asked, pulling my bodice out from my breasts with his finger.

‘Nowhere, here …’ I wasn’t making any sense, so, when he shoved his big hand into the front of my fluffy pink frock and pinched my nipples so hard I almost came again, the moan I let out fit right into the conversation.

I wiggled away from him and turned my back to his mass. Heart beating so hard it was damn near all I could hear, I rucked up the back of my new dress, held it tight to my waist and bent over the antique wooden table he’d just fucked me on. I presented myself, legs apart so he could feel or see the wetness of my pussy should he choose to.

‘Please,’ was all I managed.

He dragged it out – cocky bad boy that he was – by sliding each finger along my drenched slit. He’d find my clit and press it or pinch it or just swirl a broad fingertip over it until I was damn near vibrating. Then he gave a grunt that told me he had reached the end of his amusement with this game. He came in close behind me, making the fine hairs along my skin hum and sway, and kicked my legs a bit further apart.

And then he was in, driving deep, filling me up and stretching me wide and gripping my bare hips in his strong hands the way that made me crazy.

‘You like it from behind, do you?’

I could only nod.

When he rotated his hips from side to side a little, making tender places deep inside me flex and grasp at him, I saw tiny fairy lights in my vision. I was holding my breath, I realised, so I exhaled. It was a shuddering, desperate sound.

‘Dirty, dirty, dirty.’ He chuckled and then his rhythm caught fire. Mack drove into me hard and fast, inching my high-heel-sheathed feet off the ground until I was a faux ballerina, only my toes touching the linoleum, the wooden table shaking with his efforts and my violent motions.

‘Yes,’ I told him.

‘Yes?’

I nodded, my hair swishing on the wood. I could hear his suit trousers whispering as he pounded into me. His thumb found the tight star of my anus and I froze before relaxing into the bite of pain and shoving back to force his hand. He slid into me further there, so the hint of pain amped up the rush of pleasure.

‘Yes, yes,’ I countered, laughing a little.

It made no sense. It made perfect sense.

‘You’re so dirty you’re pushing me past my limit, Gretch.’ There was humour in his voice, but something more.

Truth.

His thumb pushed deeper, his motions frantic. He wiggled his thumb in my bottom and rasped, ‘Touch yourself.’

He didn’t have to tell me twice. I got my arm under my body, thinking wildly how insane and inappropriate this all was. And how fucking perfect and exciting as well.

Rubbing my clit in greedy little bursts I felt him go rigid and, when he uttered, ‘Fuck me hard,’ I came. His orgasm nipping at the heels of mine as he thrust so hard my pretty taupe shoes actually did leave the floor and we were both laughing.

‘Wow … wow …’ I stayed sprawled across the table. There was a tickly sensation as he ran his finger up the zipper of the dress and then stroked the bare skin of my back above the fabric.

‘Wow is a good start.’ Mack pulled free of me and backed up so I could right myself.

When I turned to him, the red in my cheeks was flagrant.

‘So?’ I cleared my throat. ‘Do you like any of those options? The dresses?’ I fluffed the pink skirt and shifted a little, every filthy thing we’d just done running through my head.

‘I liked them all,’ Mack growled, pulling me in gently by the delicate bodice. ‘Have to admit, though, the pink was my favourite.’

I smiled. ‘Mine too.’

‘And you look really great in it.’

‘Thanks.’

He kissed me, his tongue stroking mine for a minute. Then, ‘I was thinking, maybe you’d like to go to a tea party.’

‘But that girl –’

He grabbed my ass and kissed me again. ‘She’s just a girl.’