A Chamber of Delights (22 page)

She pulled her legs back hard.

He clearly thought that this was to give him deeper access. As he drove the curved shaft downward, she put her feet on his shoulders and pushed him back as hard as she could manage.

He went flying through the doorway and landed on his back. As she raised herself she looked between his legs. His shaft was wet from its foray into her sex. His balls rose heavily with his breathing.

Gael was up and out before he could respond. She vaulted over him and made straight for her room. Barging through spectators in the passage, she ignored their lecherous looks, too intent on her gambit to pay them any heed.

She slammed the door and locked it. She stood against the frame, her belly heaving, her breasts riding up and down. The nipples were almost painful in their hardness and tender from their chafing on the carpet. Her lower belly held a growing ache – the tension from her need to mate. She knew that would be soon, and the very thought of it drove her heartbeat harder.

The lock gave way as he barged through the door. Gael flew across the room. She landed on a deep-piled Turkish rug. He caught her as she went to rise.

She twisted and shook him off. ‘Bastard,’ she spat as she kicked at him. ‘Let me go, you pig.’

For a moment she saw uncertainty on his face. A tiny smile from her dispelled his doubt. But she followed it with angry words.

‘Touch me and I’ll kick you where it hurts.’ She rose and faced him angrily, her fingers clawed as she crouched to spring. He mirrored her stance and circled. She didn’t take her eyes off his at all.

When he struck, he caught her powerfully. He meshed his fingers with her own. He twisted her and flipped her on her back. Now she knew that even with her judo training, she would be no match for him. He was too strong. He was too horny. He was intent on having her and nothing in the world would stop him now.

She didn’t want him to withdraw. She was so horny too – she needed him badly. He threw himself on top of her, pinning her down with his weight. His knee came up between her legs and ground upon her vulva. She wanted to part her legs to feel it more. But she didn’t. She knew she must resist him. Her climax would be greater if she did.

She was so slippery with her sweat and his that she managed to slip away from under him. She caught his arm and twisted it, then stood up, put her foot hard in the hollow of his back and pulled the arm up tightly.

A glance at the doorway showed five faces peering around the jamb. The eyes showed admiration. The mouths wore face-wide grins.

Gael threw her hair back haughtily. She looked down at her prize. His buttocks tensed. The muscles of his legs were taut, his testes bulging powerfully between them.

She saw the muscles of his legs go tight. He rolled aside, taking her down as she tried to hold his arm. Now he was upon her.

He slid on her perspiration and her nectar. He lost his grip as she wrenched her wrists away, but he moved his grasping hands up to grip her neck lightly.

‘Get off, you brute,’ she croaked against his hand. ‘Get off.’ She beat him with her fists and threw her head from side to side against the firmness of his grip.

Still he kept his silence. His eyes were wide, his mouth curved in a smile of certainty. He knew that she was his to have just as he liked.

‘Bastard!’ she gasped as she felt his cock between her legs again. ‘Bastard,’ she repeated as he thrust in with great power.

To every thrust, she rasped out, ‘Pig’.

To every stroke, he gasped.

She squirmed and scissored her legs, not to get away now, but to feel his thrusting better. She wanted him deeper. Stronger. Longer. Harder. Even more brutally still.

Now he took her with such verve she knew how it would end. He wouldn’t be thwarted by his dream this time.

She began to heave her hips.

He thrust and ground her nubbin with his pubis.

She growled out, ‘Bastard’.

He gasped with every push. His eyes were closed, his teeth clenched hard, his penis pounding deep into the purse between her pulled-back legs. My God, he was a brute. He was such a horny beast that she wondered if she’d ever have another man like him. She prayed she would. It was absolutely marvellous.

‘Bastard!’ she screamed as his tempo rose.

‘Whore,’ he gasped, thrusting deep into her.

‘You lousy rotten, fucking prick.’

‘But you’re loving every minute of it.’

‘I hate it, you monster.’

‘You’re lying, you little whore. Feel my cock.’

She felt it. She felt every millimetre of it as he drove it up, hooking her, curving it inside her.

‘Bastard,’ she yelled and wriggled her hips, as much for the pleasure of the watchers as for herself.

As he stared into her eyes, she saw a look of triumph. She smiled for a second, goading him to greater passion still.

Each forceful drive made her belly jolt. Her breasts rode heavily, swinging to the sides. She pushed her pelvis up and set her head right back. She was coming. My God, she was coming and it was going to be terrific.

He increased the tempo of his thrusts.

His hips worked like an engine, his cock the piston driving in her lubricated sleeve.

‘Bastard!’ she shrieked.

‘Slut,’ he cried. ‘You love it.’

‘Get off.’ She clawed his shoulders and his arms. She raked him down the face. But she wound her legs about his thighs and tried to crush his cock between her legs.

Her nectar flowed and her soft flesh felt his hardness as she squeezed.

That only served to make him take her more strongly.

Incredulous faces looked down as the other girls stood round, each one now quite naked. They formed a semicircle, their legs apart, fingers plucking at their breasts, others in their clefts.

Melindi held the whip. She smacked it in one palm. She grinned that wicked grin which Gael loved so much.

The whiplash landed on Hilton Markwell’s back. It caught Gael’s thigh and made it sting. She contracted the tightening muscles of her sex.

He groaned.

She squeezed again; not for him but for herself. She was going to come and damn him to hell if he didn’t come as well.

He pinned her to the floor but let her pelvis rise.

Melindi struck again.

He bowed his back, making each thrust stronger still.

Gael rose up against him, sinking as he withdrew. She rose again, making him ram her nub.

The whiplash caught her bottom where her vulva met her anus. Then she felt the heat of his flush. She felt his
semen trickle from her cleft. Suddenly she was slippery from quite a different source. It made her flesh more sensitive. It made her judder with the thought of his jism pumping in her, flooding her, setting her alight with the energy of lust.

‘Oh God – not yet,’ she cried as he withdrew, his semen spilling on her vulval lips.

He slid right up her body. He took her breasts and pushed them into mounds, then thrust his cock between them until it touched her neck. And then he came again, letting out a hoarse, triumphant cry. ‘You whore. You fucking, lovely whore.’

Gael looked down between her breasts. She saw the phallus of the man tunnel through the valley that he’d made. She saw it spurt its fluid and opened up her mouth. She felt warmth upon her chin and liquid trickle down her neck.

A cheer went up around the room. The other girls clapped loudly.

Markwell rolled away from Gael and lay back on the rug. ‘Fucking hell,’ he gasped. ‘Fucking, bloody hell.’

Fiona knelt and took his cock. She worked it gently with a slender hand. She squeezed it so its milk oozed out, and then she licked it slowly.

Sophie sat astride his foot and rubbed her vulva on his toes. They waggled through her furrow and made her wriggle more.

Melindi knelt by Gael. She massaged at her breasts. She worked the thick, white fluid like a masseur would work in oil.

Anastasia rubbed Gael’s clitoris with great finesse. She ran her fingers down the fringes of her sex. She collected semen from Gael’s thigh and spread it into the deepest inner folds of her vulva.

Gael did not come. She moaned. She needed the man, not Fi or Boo or Sophie or Melindi – not even the voracious Anastasia. She still wanted fucking hard.

Markwell sighed and pushed through Fiona’s fingers. She stroked his balls as his penis spurted once. She licked it like a lollipop from his testes to his glans.

‘Fucking hell,’ he groaned again. ‘Fucking, bloody hell. That was nice.’

‘Is that all?’ Melindi slapped his thigh.

‘OK,’ he grinned. ‘It was bloody marvellous. I’ve never had a fuck like that.’

Gael leaned on her elbow, resigned now that she would have to wait her turn to climax. Perhaps she would take him to the chamber and have him there. She ran her finger around his hardened nipple.

‘And is that how the dream ended?’

He sat up too, resting on his elbow to mirror her. ‘I don’t think it could have ended better. Christ, I love you all.’ He kissed Gael lightly on the lips. ‘But I love you the most, you wicked hussy.’

‘Ahh. Isn’t that nice,’ Fiona sighed as she worked his foreskin slowly.

Gael scowled playfully. ‘You randy bastard. I hate you. You didn’t make me come.’

He took her mouth with passion. He lay her down and pressed his lips to hers. He placed his legs between her own and kneaded at her breast. Then he rolled on top of her, resting on his elbows, holding his weight off her. He slipped his cock inside her and began to fuck her slowly.

‘I think we’d better go,’ Fiona whispered. ‘This is getting serious.’

AN HOUR LATER,
Gael stood in the foyer looking up at Hilton Markwell. They’d played and rolled and sucked and rubbed together on the bed. She’d had a little climax, but the explosive tension between them both had gone the minute that he’d come. She smiled and brushed his cheek.

‘Will you come again?’

He shook his head. ‘I don’t think it could ever be the same again. I don’t want the memory of it ever to change, sweetheart. Sorry.’ As he closed his eyes, she watched a tear running down his cheek. She wiped one from her own. Then the doorbell rang. It was the taxi that she’d ordered.

She held out the keys of his Aston Martin.

He closed her fingers on them and shook his head. ‘No – I said I wanted you to keep it. It’s very precious to me, but what you’ve given me today is priceless. I’ll send the papers in the morning.’

As he entered the taxi, she held out the keys for one last time. He forced a smile and waved her away. ‘Keep it to remember me by. Anyway – I’ve got another two at home.’

The week passed very slowly. Gael slouched around the house, the excitement of the tea party leaving a vacuum
in its passing. Could anything ever be that wild again? Melindi had gone. Gael was pleased even though she missed her. Sophie had not returned to her former, loving self. She seemed either to be brooding about Melindi, or there was something else on her mind. She continued to make Gael’s breakfast and clean the house as usual, but whenever she saw Gael giving Todd Flanders orders for the garden, her mood turned black and she wouldn’t speak for hours.

Twice Gael saw them talking by the potting shed, Sophie smiling up at him. But his demeanour seemed to be as superior as ever. Gael’s feelings of jealousy sparked into life. With no prospect of ever seeing Hilton Markwell again, she still needed a man for that explosive climax she hadn’t had. She didn’t need a woman at the moment. Certainly not Sophie. Not even Melindi. And unless she could have Flanders in her own way, she didn’t want him at all. She would have to wait until the next party in a fortnight.

She turned her thoughts away from sex – at least from her own needs. There was still a fantasy to fulfil for the woman who wanted a man’s cock but without the inconvenience of having the man. She was scheduled for the next day and Gael still needed to find a way to make the fantasy come true. She had the glimmer of a plan.

She was polishing the Aston Martin when she saw the reflection of Flanders in its bright red door. She looked up sharply.

He scowled at her over the bonnet. ‘I suppose you think you’ve very clever, don’t you, miss?’

‘Clever? What do you mean, Mr Flanders?’

He nodded to the car. ‘Nice little present. Worth opening your legs for?’

She slapped him hard across the cheek.

He simply grinned.

Now she stiffened as she blurted, ‘It belongs to a friend, if you must know. Now – haven’t you got some work to do?’

‘I’m finished for the day.’

She looked at her watch and shrugged. It had just gone five.

Flanders didn’t leave. ‘Good, was he?’ As he came closer she smelled his scent and felt a thrill go through her. Naked above the waist and dressed only in shorts and sandals, he was as provocative as ever, and he knew it.

‘Good, was he?’ he asked again, running his palm over the wing of the car just as if it were her thigh.

She threw her head righteously. ‘I don’t know what you mean.’

He closed right in and whispered, ‘I think you do.’

She tried to ignore him and rubbed briskly at the coachwork.

‘But he’s gone away to Hong Kong, I hear. So you won’t be having him again. Not for some time, anyway.’

Gael rubbed angrily. ‘It’s none of your damned business, even if it were true.’

‘It is my business if you expect me to fuck you when you’re horny.’

She spun on him. ‘How dare you. What makes you think I . . .’ Then she saw his smirk. He’d laid a trap for her and she’d fallen in head first.

He grinned and rubbed his bulge, then turned and sauntered towards his motorbike, standing black and shiny in the shadow of the coachhouse. Gael watched him in the reflection in the bonnet of the car as he sat astride the saddle and kicked the motor into life.

Damn the man. He was too cocky by half. But the thought of his cock set her trembling.

‘I’ll need you tomorrow,’ she called out as she got into the car. ‘Come to the house at eleven.’

He drove the bike up to the car, looking down on her. ‘There you are – I knew you’d need this soon.’ He rubbed his bulge again.