A Very Personal Assistant by Portia Da Costa Read Free Book Online Page B

rummaged efficiently in the bag and
pulled out a familiar foil package. It was hard to stay upright. His body was so
amazing that just looking at it made her shake all over, but she laughed out
loud as he back-heeled the door shut, then advanced on her, ripping open the
foil and rolling the contraceptive onto his mighty erection as he
approached.
    “Brace yourself, woman,” he growled, grabbing her again.
“You’ll need to help me…knickers off, then guide me into you and hang on for
dear life.”
    She obeyed, loving it. He was in charge here, just as he’d
always been during their trips to the cottage. And he was hard as iron just as
he’d been there, too.
    But still, this was tricky. How were they going to achieve
this. It was all very well in movies doing the up-against-the-wall
knee-trembler, but she’d always believed it was impossible in real life, with
actual people. No previous lover of hers had even attempted it.
    “We’ll fall,” she protested, even as he flexed his strong legs
and positioned the head of his cock against her entrance, lifting one of her
thighs to get at her better.
    “No, we won’t, woman. Don’t fuss,” he said gruffly, working
with his hips, already in a little way. “It’s a trust exercise. We’ll be fine.
Believe me. Now help.”
    So she did, hooking her thigh around his narrow hips, and then
bracing against the wall with one hand while she reached down and tangled
fingers with his, aiding his entry into her. Luckily she was slippery, running
with arousal, soft and yielding.
    With a hard shove, his buttocks tensing, he thrust home and
hard.
    “Lock your thighs around me,” he commanded. “Right around….
want to be deeper.”
    It felt so precarious, yet also wonderful, this trust exercise.
She’d never felt so filled before, but she wanted to be more filled. Only
Patrick could do this. Only he could reach places inside her that no man ever
had. And on many levels that were nothing to do with his cock.
    “I’ll never let you fall, love,” he gasped, looking directly
into her eyes, his own intent, dark as night, focused on sex, yet on her, too.
“Believe me, I’ll never let you down.”
    She hooked around him, completely suspended from him, her sex
jammed up against his, her arms locked around his neck, holding him as if she’d
never let him go.
    I never will let you go! Never! I don’t
care what happens! she cried silently to him and he began to thrust
and thrust with his hips, one hand under her buttocks to guide her, the other
flat and steady against the wall. Every time he rocked against her, the force,
the angle, the weight of his athletic body, and the whole of his heart and soul
seemed to knock against her clitoris, shooting jolts of pleasure up her spine
and around her body.
    Holding him with her thighs and arms, she jerked against him
reciprocally, attempting to give as much as she was getting, and pleasure him.
He muttered, “Yes, love! Yes!” and that told her she was achieving her
objective.
    The fucking, the closeness, it was all too much for her. Even
though she was clothed and he was nude, she felt as if every part of her was
pressed to every part of him. Her suit, her blouse, her bra, everything was
insubstantial but her flesh against his flesh. And it was that connection, the
one that was so magical and hard to define, that brought her off as much as the
action of his cock and the rhythmic tugging action on her clit.
    “Oh, hell! Oh, God! Patrick!” she howled as orgasm claimed her
completely and her pussy rippled and gripped and gripped and gripped him.
    “Oh, baby,” he muttered vaguely, holding her to him. “I love
you…I love you…” His broad chest heaved against her. “But if I climax here, I will drop you…. You feel too good!”
    Giddy with pleasure, Miranda thought, What? How?
    “Hold on, love. Hold on really, really tight.” Both of his
hands slid under her bottom, gripping her firmly.
    Hardly able to believe what he was up to,