Chapter Twenty Nine

Joel had been fighting an erection all evening, but now with her sandwiched up against him he had lost both his coherent thought and his ability to manage any part of his body. One hand was tangled in her hair, the other on her ribs finger tips a fraction from the curve of her breast, and as she struggled for a pant of air, he let his lips slide from hers, nibbling and tasting the gentle flesh from her lips to her jaw, and then obviously sensitive lobe of her ear. As his teeth nipped at it, her thighs clenched, squeezing his and he almost shouted out in triumph.

As he lifted his head for a moment, needing to see her eyes, see what she was thinking, he spotted the redness on her throat, the places he'd kissed, rubbed raw by his stubble. But she wasn't complaining, her eyes were soft, warm, passion-filled, and it made his heart surge. She wanted him, that was so apparent, and that only made him keener...and harder. He thought he might explode if she moved again, he'd not felt so horny since he was a teenager. But every kiss, every nibble seemed to be accompanied by a grind, a thrust, a dramatic surge against the only area of his body he was still struggling to control. His rock hard, ready to explode groin.

Sammy leaned into him, seemingly craving the action of his lips, so obliging he lowered his head to connect with the smooth column of her neck, each moan that escaped her lips like a surge of heat in his veins. It had been a long time since he'd been near a woman, but he knew that wasn't the only reason he was feeling like he was, out of control, wild...desperate.

"oh Joel...that's amazing..."

It was half rasp, half moan, but it wound up the tension in his stomach and the pulse in his veins. Her hands, small, delicate slid under his t-shirt, ran over the skin of his spine, he'd never been more aware of that area, never had his conscious level drawn to his back.

As she once again writhed against him, he let his tongue run along her collar bone, then back up over her chin to once again devour her lips, to consume her, because that was what this was, carnal, destructive in its intensity, he wanted to consume her, all of her.

He loved her touch, loved kissing her, but he needed more, so he reached his hands up under her t-shirt, lifting it as he went. All the while he plundered her lips, exploring her mouth with his tongue.

As much as he wanted it all, as much as his body screamed for her, and her moans reciprocated that desire, he knew he had to take his time, play this right. He couldn't risk losing her, not for a brief moment of passion; he wanted this to be right.

As he lifted his head, tried to breathe normally, his fingers splayed wide over her soft skin, touching her, but a jolt of heat surged through him as his finger tips brushed across the fabric of her bra.

Her moan against his chin, her thrust of her firm breasts into his chest, it was all too much, his brain was trying to absorb every moment, every sensation, but it was overwhelming, all the while her mouth was drugging him, driving him wild with her eagerness. When her tongue lashed out, duelled with his own, he was lost.

She'd missed his hands against her skin, Sammy almost mourned the lack of sensation, but when Joel's fingers connected with the underside of her breast through the fabric of her t-shirt once more, she let out a gasp that sounded foreign to her own lips. Leaning forward, rising up onto her knees, forcing him back against the sofa, she wrapped her arms around his shoulders, dragging his head into her neck, uncaring of the stubble scoring at her cheek, her jaw, her neck, she just needed control, needed...

He bit the underside of her chin; hard enough to shock, but not enough to hurt and she threw her head back and moaned again, an animalistic sound that she swore she'd never uttered before. His fingers had slid up and he was now cupping her backside with one hand and her left breast with the other. When she wriggled she felt his teeth move, his stubble erode and his hands clench. It was perfect; it was too much, it was nowhere near enough.

Her breasts tingled, and that only eased when she pressed them into him, but now her thighs were throbbing, a spiral of tension winding up through her pelvis. Kneeling up as she was she had no way to assuage that sensation, so she once again dropped back to straddle his thighs, grinding down desperately.

She could barely think which was good, if she started to analyse what was happening her head might rule her heart, not that this was driven by her heart, she was consumed with lust, pure and simply and she had an uncontrollable need, but her head would steer her away, make her think...and she didn't want that. She needed THIS. So instead of processing things, she distracted herself in the best way, by she reaching for his t-shirt and tugging it up to mid chest. To pull it over his head she had to let him go, release his head from her tight embrace. As the fabric moved over his shoulders he lifted his arms and helped her free them of the t-shirt, but that meant that she had to look at him, had to meet his eyes, had to face up to him.

But instead of questions, as she looked at him she knew she'd never seen so much desire in one man's eyes, his pupils were huge, dark, and he was watching her closely, and as her eyes followed her own hands down to the contours of his chest, she knew he watched that too. He was toned, not ripped, not overly muscular, but he was defined, hard. Perfect. A light smattering of hair spread around each of his nipples, and then led in a path down his delicious body, and goosebumps erupted as she touched each part of him.

When her nails grazed his chest he sighed, but when her index finger caught one of his flat nipples he hissed as though he'd been burned. Her exploration was halted by his hands tugging at her t-shirt, and there was that awkward moment where she was disorientated as he lifted her shirt, it blocked her eyes, and she couldn't see him, couldn't judge his response to seeing her almost naked for the first time. Her inner fears made her almost shake, but it was only a temporary problem, with a grunt of success he threw the garment across the room, then brought his eyes to meet hers.

As he smiled, eyes still on her, she bit her lip anxiously, and that caused his lips to part in a sigh. That sigh became a groan as his gaze cast down over her shoulders, his index finger following his study, over the swell of her breast, the black lace of her bra. Her body pulsed, the blood thrumming in her veins was almost deafening as she leaned into his hand, pressed her body up against him. Tried to make it better. But her frustration was mounting.

Joel's lips finally found hers again, hungrily, earnestly as his arms once again wrapped around her but this time his fingers moved to the clasp at the back of her bra.

"Is this ok?" he breathed against her lips before tugging at her bottom lips with his mouth.

Her nod of concession seemed lost amongst their passion, so she reached back to push his hands back to their task, reassuring him that she wanted this. But when it came, that whoosh as the tension to her breasts released with the unclasping of her bra, she once again struggled with her confidence. He was about to see her, it was ages since she'd been near a man, and since then she'd had a baby. She was far from her prime, far from what she used to be, and she had never been that body confident, even then.

As if reading her fears, Joel took that moment to turn her in his arms, ease her back on the cushions of the sofa, then he slowly peeled the lace of the bra away from her body, his eyes widening, and if it was possible, the erection that had been pressed into her since she sat astride him, got bigger, harder.

"Shit, you are perfect..."

Suddenly there was an overwhelming desire to touch him, to feel him, to have him inside her.

Something had changed, Joel was aware of that. Her legs had wrapped around him, regaining the pressure and the friction between their pelvises, and her teeth had sunk into his neck as her hands slid over his buttocks.

Dropping his head to her shoulder he growled, "you're sure? You want this?"

When she nodded, he lifted himself slightly and slithered down her body, and that allowed him to feast at those beautiful breasts. He did wonder whether he'd survive when he revealed more of her, because she was perfect, totally perfect. Since that moment in Greece all those years earlier he'd wanted this, to cup her breasts, to run his tongue over her curves, to taste her, to feel her, to be part of her. And he'd hidden it for that long.

Within moments he'd kicked off his joggers as she wriggled out of her jeans, and without the protective layers of clothing, every sensation was even greater, even more enhanced.

"Oh god," Sammy moaned, tossing her head back as Joel's fingers breached the edge of her knickers. Before she had chance to respond, he was licking at her nipple, sucking it deep into his mouth. As her lips parted to let out what she hoped wouldn't be a scream, his fingers slid further.

"Shit Sammy," he rasped against her, "you feel amazing."

It was no lie, his fingers were moving over her, slipping into her and she was wriggling, arching up off the sofa.

"Waaaaa-waaaaa."

They both froze for a split second at the sudden sound, then Sammy jumped up, brushing his hands and body from her, "it's Eleanor. Shit!"

Uncaring that she was only wearing a pair of black lace undies, she bolted from the room in the direction of the spare room.

As he watched her disappear, Joel groaned, of course he was concerned that Eleanor was ok, but he was experiencing the biggest case of blue balls ever known to man. Dragging himself to his feet he took a few deep breaths until his raging hard on had begun to soften, and followed Sammy out of the room.

Sammy was cuddling a sobbing Eleanor, her lips buried in her daughter's hair, a stream of soft and reassuring words of comfort. He hated that he noticed she was still naked bar the scrap of lace that almost failed to cover her arse, and hated more so that his body was already responding to that rather than the drama of Eleanor.

"She ok?" he asked pulling a shirt from the cupboard; it was an old checked shirt, soft and long. It would at least cover the important bits, and he draped it around her shoulders. "What can I do?"

"She's burning up," she murmured lips still connected with her daughter's head. "I've got some medicine in my handbag...and could you get some cold water in her bottle?"

"Of course!" Suddenly anxious he ran back to the kitchen.

When he returned she had the shirt wrapped around her and Eleanor was upright her face tucked under Sammy's chin, her eyes half open.

"She doesn't look well."

Sammy's eyes flitted to Joel's, "she's hot, probably just a bug, these things happen."

He gave a nod as he handed her the things she'd asked for.

"Can I do anything else?"

She shook her head, "I'll give her this then get her back to sleep. She'll settle in this bed with me."

He hated that he was thinking of what they'd stopped, and he knew that they'd not have the chance to get back to it, but he hated that they couldn't even talk. Instead of her seeing the selfish bastard he was, he nodded and gave a smile.

"I'm just across the hallway; call me if you need anything?"

"Thanks Joel."

He barely slept, he heard Sammy's voice a few times during the night, but she neither called out, nor left the room, but he knew that she'd barely slept as much as he had. At before seven he was in the kitchen making coffee, he'd glanced into the spare room but both were fast asleep in the double bed. Eleanor's colour had returned and they were both relaxed. He felt relieved at that.

He loved the early morning, the city was yet to wake up, there was a calmness even in the depths of London. Sipping coffee he looked out at the early dawn, buses weaving their way through the quiet streets. Booting up his laptop, he flicked on the news and settled down to read his emails, catch up with the news, and forget what had happened on the sofa across the room. He'd gathered their clothes up and left hers folded outside the spare bedroom. The last reminder of the hottest woman he'd ever got his hands...and lips on.

He'd caught up with the stock markets, the shooting in a north London nightclub, the latest appearance of Prince William and his emails when the door to the bedrooms opened and Sammy appeared, still dressed in his shirt.

"How is she?" he jumped up and moved towards her, then grimaced at the way she stepped away from him.

"Yes, thanks. I was just going to get her another drink. Thanks for being so understanding."

He grimaced again, he was anything but understanding, he still wanted to strip her off and finish what they'd started. She passed him to go to the kitchen, her long bare legs making him weak at the knees.

As he made to answer her there was a knock at the door. He groaned. Most likely the maintenance man on garbage duty. Marching up to the door he pulled it open then almost fell over. Stood there was Clifford Turner.

"Sorry to bother you so early Joel." The older man looked him up and down and blushed, "but I was hoping you have another phone number for Sammy, she's not answering her mobile and I need to get her to resign a paper or this house sale will never go through."

He was about to shut the door in the other man's face, he'd think of a thousand reasons for doing it, anything to stop him seeing Sammy. But as he opened his mouth, Clifford spoke in a rather strained voice.

"Ah, you're here Sammy."