Read Online Everything You Want: Everything For You Trilogy 2 by Orla Bailey - Free Book Online
Authors: Orla Bailey
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shatter.” His fingers take me with passion and I orgasm right there in front of him like it’s from his words alone. He plays me hard. I think he enjoys seeing me weak and wanton.
I hurl my arms round his neck when my legs start to buckle so he lifts me and I cross them behind him. He slams me against the wall and breaches me just at the moment my body clamps down hardest.
“So tight.” But his body claims its victory over mine easily with a surge of raw male power.
I pant in rapid, harsh rhythm at each thrust until his energy throws me over the edge again. My lips part and I cry out his name. My pelvis arches against the fierce upward drive, while I cling to him and bite my teeth down into his neck. He turns rigid as orgasm explodes through him and for a single second he is me and I am him. We are together.
We don’t speak, either one, for minutes. Jack recovers first and starts to clean my body with a natural sponge. He shampoos and conditions my hair and reaches out for a towel to wrap me in, popping me outside the cubicle door.
“Go get some clothes on before I need to fuck you again.” He leans out to kiss me and sends me away. “And I might impose an underwear check,” he warns me, laughing.
While I’m in my bedroom rummaging for a dress, someone outside the window catches my eye. It’s Laurent, striding up the track towards the back of the house. He’s coming to see me at the end of his working day. Although he’s my friend, I suppose Madame will have warned him to stay away until now.
My heart gives a little flip of alarm. No-one here knows Jack like I do. If Jack spots Laurent I know he’s a dead man and it will be all my fault after that come-hither display I gave to annoy Jack down by the fields. My silly trick worked only too well. Jack’s already reminded me he doesn’t share his woman with anyone and beneath that civilised veneer he’s still all cave-male. By his own admission he’s uber-competitive. Laurent doesn’t know any of this and he won’t know what hit him so I’d better put him straight.
I listen out. Jack is still under the shower so I quickly pull a short sun-dress over my head and fly down the back stairs in my bare feet.
The back door is habitually unlocked and Laurent comes straight into the kitchen, as informally as ever.
“Tabeetha.” He grabs me by the shoulders to kiss me on both cheeks in the classic French way of greeting an old friend. “Madame told us you arrive. She said you are triste . Sad. So we leave you alone. It is better now, I think?”
His English is improving. “I’m perfectly fine, Laurent.” But he can’t be here. I’m conscious that Jack will finish his shower any minute and come looking for me. He mustn’t see me here with Laurent. I’ve marked the poor man for life already.
And Jack owns the estate now so is Laurent’s boss too. This could be bad. I take his arm and walk him back out the door. I’m a rotten hostess. The late afternoon air is typically still and warm heading for an evening of the same; Laurent looks dusty and dry and I really should offer him a drink. But I’m too conscious of preserving his current state of well-being. And mine.
“It’s lovely to see you Laurent but you mustn’t come here yet.” I have to make Jack understand first, that we’re simply old friends.
Laurent looks hurt and confused. “No? Why is this?” He sees me glance back nervously towards the house as we walk.
“Until the new boss understands.” My attempt to explain is pretty lame. With the look Laurent gives me I know he agrees with Madame: la petite folle .
But I underestimate his Gallic reasoning, his male spirit of competition and the wicked sense of humour I adored so much as a teenage girl. He glances back at the house then grins at me in a very sexy way. He grabs me and kisses me fully on the lips, bending me backwards over his arm.
“I give him something for the jealousy, no?” Laurent looks extremely pleased with
I hurl my arms round his neck when my legs start to buckle so he lifts me and I cross them behind him. He slams me against the wall and breaches me just at the moment my body clamps down hardest.
“So tight.” But his body claims its victory over mine easily with a surge of raw male power.
I pant in rapid, harsh rhythm at each thrust until his energy throws me over the edge again. My lips part and I cry out his name. My pelvis arches against the fierce upward drive, while I cling to him and bite my teeth down into his neck. He turns rigid as orgasm explodes through him and for a single second he is me and I am him. We are together.
We don’t speak, either one, for minutes. Jack recovers first and starts to clean my body with a natural sponge. He shampoos and conditions my hair and reaches out for a towel to wrap me in, popping me outside the cubicle door.
“Go get some clothes on before I need to fuck you again.” He leans out to kiss me and sends me away. “And I might impose an underwear check,” he warns me, laughing.
While I’m in my bedroom rummaging for a dress, someone outside the window catches my eye. It’s Laurent, striding up the track towards the back of the house. He’s coming to see me at the end of his working day. Although he’s my friend, I suppose Madame will have warned him to stay away until now.
My heart gives a little flip of alarm. No-one here knows Jack like I do. If Jack spots Laurent I know he’s a dead man and it will be all my fault after that come-hither display I gave to annoy Jack down by the fields. My silly trick worked only too well. Jack’s already reminded me he doesn’t share his woman with anyone and beneath that civilised veneer he’s still all cave-male. By his own admission he’s uber-competitive. Laurent doesn’t know any of this and he won’t know what hit him so I’d better put him straight.
I listen out. Jack is still under the shower so I quickly pull a short sun-dress over my head and fly down the back stairs in my bare feet.
The back door is habitually unlocked and Laurent comes straight into the kitchen, as informally as ever.
“Tabeetha.” He grabs me by the shoulders to kiss me on both cheeks in the classic French way of greeting an old friend. “Madame told us you arrive. She said you are triste . Sad. So we leave you alone. It is better now, I think?”
His English is improving. “I’m perfectly fine, Laurent.” But he can’t be here. I’m conscious that Jack will finish his shower any minute and come looking for me. He mustn’t see me here with Laurent. I’ve marked the poor man for life already.
And Jack owns the estate now so is Laurent’s boss too. This could be bad. I take his arm and walk him back out the door. I’m a rotten hostess. The late afternoon air is typically still and warm heading for an evening of the same; Laurent looks dusty and dry and I really should offer him a drink. But I’m too conscious of preserving his current state of well-being. And mine.
“It’s lovely to see you Laurent but you mustn’t come here yet.” I have to make Jack understand first, that we’re simply old friends.
Laurent looks hurt and confused. “No? Why is this?” He sees me glance back nervously towards the house as we walk.
“Until the new boss understands.” My attempt to explain is pretty lame. With the look Laurent gives me I know he agrees with Madame: la petite folle .
But I underestimate his Gallic reasoning, his male spirit of competition and the wicked sense of humour I adored so much as a teenage girl. He glances back at the house then grins at me in a very sexy way. He grabs me and kisses me fully on the lips, bending me backwards over his arm.
“I give him something for the jealousy, no?” Laurent looks extremely pleased with
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