After Hours: Black Lace Classics (18 page)

Finally she lay still, spent; but Micky had only just started. He eased the vibrator out of her; Venny moaned, missing it instantly, wanting it back inside her, but helpless to do anything right now but lie there and wonder what the hell he was going to do next. The humming stopped. Distantly she heard a wail.

‘What the hell?’ asked Micky.

‘It’s Dani,’ she mumbled into the coverlet. ‘Come inside me now, please, Micky. Right now.’

‘God, haven’t you had enough yet?’ he whispered, bending over her back, slipping his hands between the overheated skin of her midriff and the coverlet, then easing them up until they cupped her breasts.

Venny moaned again, squirming pleasurably back upon the pillows until her still needy cunt connected
with Micky’s hard, muscular thigh. She rubbed herself against it like a cat, and like a cat she purred with pleasure as she did so.

‘Hot little bitch,’ said Micky, his body curving over her back as he smoothed his hands over the big pale globes of her breasts. He tweaked her nipples almost painfully as he kissed and bit at her neck, making Venny squirm even harder with lust.

She could feel his rough, crinkly pubic hair tickling her left buttock as he leaned hotly over her; she could feel the rigid, heavy length of his erect cock resting upright against her bumslit. Micky squeezed her nipples harder, and Venny experienced a fluttering echo of her first orgasm. Her fingers clawed madly at the velvet throw. One of his hands left her breasts and slipped back between their sweat-sticky bodies. He pushed his penis down, reversing its cosy position between her legs, and she moved back eagerly, expecting him to come inside her vagina; but instead Micky pressed his damp glans to the little puckered ring of her anus, and pressed forwards, moving with extreme gentleness until he was lodged just a little inside this forbidden place.

Venny considered protesting. She had never been buggered before, and wasn’t entirely sure that she really wanted to be buggered now, but Micky was being so excessively careful with her, easing in, just easing so smoothly, so steadily, and then tickling her clitoris with the fingers of one hand, arousing her all over again, overcoming her doubts, overcoming the sudden restrictive tightening until he was in, completely inside
her, and she found to her amazement that she loved it.

‘Oh, you like that?’ Micky cooed against her shoulder, kissing her hot skin as he gasped, mustering all his self-control so that he should not climax too soon while lodged inside so deliciously forbidden a place.

‘You’re so tight,’ he complained aloud, groaning as he fought for restraint, keeping still for long tortuous moments until the urge to come, and come right
now
, had passed.

‘Tighter than in the front?’ asked Venny almost shyly; she wasn’t used to talking during sex, but Micky seemed to see it as part of the pleasure, and could talk dirty enough to drive her completely insane with desire.

‘Much tighter. Feel that.’ And he pushed in, right up to the hilt, but so gently, so carefully, before drawing back his swollen rod. A droplet of sweat dropped from his brow onto Venny’s back, and he licked it away with slow enjoyment, tasting her sweet milk-scented skin, his own saltiness. ‘Tight, see?’

‘Mm, tight,’ groaned Venny, sprawled on the bed without a movable bone in her body. She felt as limp, as spineless and relaxed, as a jellyfish.

‘That’s it, relax. Chill,’ he said encouragingly. Too late, thought Venny. This was wonderful. Her tightness and the huge dimensions of his penis combined to generate a heady elixir that she found she couldn’t get enough of. She was so sensitive to every move he made, and he was just as badly affected; she could tell that by his tortured breathing, by the heavy pushing of his rock-hard balls against her buttocks, by the spasmodic
movements of his hands as they grasped her waist, held her still for him.

‘Jesus, I’m going to come,’ Micky gasped through clenched teeth. Venny didn’t care in the least. She wanted him to come, she wanted to feel that happening to him while he was in her forbidden place. She turned her head, smiling lazily, enjoying this so very much; and caught sight of their reflection in the mirror on her dressing table through the wild tangle of her hair.

With a careless movement she swept her hair back, and looked at the tableau so unexpectedly revealed to her. She could see herself lying prone on the bed, could see her raised hips resting on the pillows and the full soft undercurves of her breasts. She watched, fascinated and aroused, while Micky pushed his hands under her thighs and lifted them up on either side of his waist, creating a wheelbarrow effect, her as the barrow, him as the pusher.

And push he did now as she subtly altered shape inside, allowing him even greater access. Venny watched him, his straining shoulders as he held her up gleaming under a gloss of sweat, his head scrunched down onto his neck and his face screwed up in intense concentration. His buttocks were clenching and unclenching furiously as he pushed, withdrew, pushed and withdrew from his tight nest. The flame tattoo was clearly visible, glowing red and angry and seeming almost to ripple and come alive as his muscles moved restlessly under his skin.

But again his control was amazing. While she was all but biting the coverlet with the extent of her
excitement, he paused again, paused and pressed hard on that slow-down spot that was situated between his anus and his cock. He threw back his head and his face was momentarily contorted as if in pain. Turned on by the sight, Venny moaned and writhed briefly, but he had her totally in his control, holding her immobile while he set the pace.

‘Oh, Micky, please finish me,’ moaned Venny.

Micky’s contorted face softened into a grin as he paused and stared, panting, at her tousled head. Seeing which way she was facing, his own head turned fractionally, and he saw the mirror. Their eyes met in the mirror.

‘Why, Venny Halliday, what a wicked girl you are,’ he murmured. ‘You’ve been watching me.’

‘Mm,’ said Venny, having to lick her terribly dry lips before she could speak now. She could feel a thunderous, cataclysmic orgasm hovering in the pit of her belly, in her breasts, in her clit and her cunt and her arse, her soft arse where he was lodged as hard and unbending as a maypole thrust up in spring.

‘Say please, then,’ said Micky, holding her gaze in the mirror before glancing down almost admiringly at the thick root of his cock, settled so cosily against the puckered gate of her anus.

Venny squirmed and then relaxed hopelessly. ‘Please, then,’ she muttered. ‘Please! Please, you bastard, come on, do it, finish me –
please
!’

Even before she’d finished hissing her wanting and needing at him like a curse, Micky moved, pulling out
from her almost completely. Venny, watching in the mirror, saw the slick and thick redness of his heavily lubricated cock slip out of her, and then she saw it and felt it plunge back in. Again and again he drew right back, then launched himself into her anew. His hands dug almost painfully into her waist but she hardly felt it. Her entire being was focused, completely centred, on the building sensations he was causing her to feel. She seemed to open and open ever further for him, like a flower opening to the sun. Finally she collapsed forwards onto the coverlet, clutching at it, muffling her own screams with the thick red velvet as she came again, ferociously, wave upon wave of acute bliss that left her feeling wrung out and as lifeless as a rag doll.

‘Jesus,’ moaned Micky, and she felt him coming too. His cock grew harder, fuller, and then she felt the wild pumping of his ejaculation. Every muscle in his body seemed to be straining towards this final victory. When at last he relaxed, sinking back onto his knees behind her, he let her thighs drop back to the bed and then put his arms around her waist, pulling her up against his body so that she knelt in front of him. His hands slid up and cupped her breasts, and his hot mouth kissed the curve of her neck, his chin scratching at the ravishingly sensitive skin there in the most delightful way.

‘Darling, darling Venny,’ he murmured against her feverish skin, letting his penis slip free of her at last. It lay heavy and wet and still stiff against her buttock. Irresistibly Venny reached a hand behind her to stroke it, admire its size, its strength. ‘Don’t even think about
it for the next ten minutes,’ said Micky on a half-stifled laugh, his voice muffled by her neck.

‘I can’t promise not to at least think about it,’ Venny chuckled, warmed by the way he was cuddling her so close. So many men were remote after lovemaking, yet Micky loved to cuddle, to hug and sleep close after coition, then wake in the morning and start all over again. And he’d called her darling. Darling Venny. She thought that was sweet, really nice. Of course it didn’t mean that he didn’t say exactly that to every other girl he slept with, she reminded herself sternly, but, somehow his saying it made her feel special, appreciated.

‘Well, maybe I can give you something else to think about. To distract you,’ said Micky, kissing her, making her shiver all over again with the feel of his mouth against the ultra-sensitive skin of her throat.

‘You can try,’ she whispered happily, sinking back against him as he linked his arms around her waist. His cock was still remarkably full, but sinking to half-mast now. She snuggled her buttocks against it.

‘Only I was thinking,’ said Micky, biting her ear, ‘that I might sell the hut. You’re right. The market’s buoyant, demand’s high. I’d get a really good price for it.’

Venny glanced back over her shoulder at him in surprise. ‘But you said—’

‘I know what I said. I said it was more important to me than money, and it was. It is. But I’ve been thinking that it could be good for both of us to get things on a more equal footing. So look. I could sell the hut, and sink some of the cash from the sale into the restaurant,
we can agree a sum between us. I can buy myself into a partnership with you. I know you’ve got cash flow problems, anyway, and I thought—’

Venny stiffened. ‘What do you mean, “you know”.’

‘Well, of course I know,’ said Micky mildly. ‘I see the takings, and you tell me they’ve doubled since I’ve been here.’

‘They have.’ Venny was beginning to get a horrible creeping feeling about all this.

‘There you are, then. And you were at the bank when we had that little shunt, weren’t you?’

‘And you jumped to the conclusion that I was having cash problems?’ He’d jumped to the right conclusion there, thought Venny with rising irritation. And it was true what he was saying; he had seen the number of covers they were doing now, and she had told him that takings had doubled, and maybe she had brought this whole damned thing on herself by being loose-lipped with him, but she had trusted him. She had thought he had integrity. She had thought that what they had together was something rather more than a business opportunity.

‘It showed up on the computer, too,’ said Micky, nibbling delicately at her earlobe.

Computer? thought Venny. What computer? He couldn’t mean her computer? There was only a till link downstairs, and all her accounts and personal information files were blocked by passwords. No. He couldn’t mean her computer.

‘Do you mean the computer in my office?’ she asked
numbly, thinking that she really, really didn’t want to hear the answer, but she had asked the question now, it was too late, too late. She thought of Caspar, his brother, the IT specialist. Oh, no, she cringed. Oh, no. Micky was trying to screw his way into a partnership with her – just like Bill Thompson had, just like that very first rat of a man had. That was what men did, in her experience. Screw her, get their hooks into her money, then dump her. She had thought Micky was different. She had certainly hoped so. But she had very obviously been wrong.

‘Look, I’ll own up to the fact that I had Caspar help me check out the accounts,’ said Micky apologetically, perhaps feeling the sudden chill wind of Venny’s disappointment.

‘My accounts,’ said Venny flatly.

‘Right, your accounts. And why not? I was checking out a business investment, and I think it would be a good one, Venny, so why not? I’ll sell the hut, sink some cash into Box of Delights; we’ll get a proper partnership agreement drawn up. What do you say?’

‘What do I
say
?’ Venny twitched away from him and was up and off the bed in an instant. She had to gulp down a few steadying breaths before she could trust herself to speak. ‘I say you’re a treacherous, underhand bastard, Micky Quinn,’ she blazed at him, ‘just like every other man I’ve ever known. So no, don’t sell your damned precious hut, and don’t even think about partnership deals, because there isn’t going to be one.’

‘Venny!’ Kneeling naked on her bed with his flaccid
cock now dangling down between his legs, Micky was looking at her in amazement. She felt a treacherous twist of sensation in her guts as she looked back at him, but she fought down the rising tide of desire, because it was desire that had tricked her into this situation in the first place.

‘Now sod off out of my bedroom and out of my restaurant and out of my life, will you?’ She flounced over to the door, snatched her robe down off the hook behind it and struggled into the garment, nearly tearing the delicate apple-green fabric in her anger. Then she flung the door wide open. ‘Your services are no longer required.’

Within two weeks Venny had found herself another chef. They were, she reminded herself, ten a penny, and she had really thrown herself into the job of finding a replacement for Micky Quinn, scouring the catering agencies and ignoring the petulance of the rest of the staff over the fact that Micky, as she very firmly and coolly told them, was a thing of the past.

As she sat in her office late one evening while the restaurant busily hummed along downstairs, she congratulated herself on her diligence. And on successfully putting the Micky episode behind her. Some odd things had come out of that night when he’d burst into the flat with Jamie and Caspar in tow. For instance, and this was perhaps the biggest surprise of all, Caspar and Flora were now behaving like regular lovebirds, cooing over each other in the most sickening manner. Dani was pleased that she had been instrumental in healing the rift in their marriage.