first and glad for the second. Still, after the way
Trevor had treated her, who could blame her for getting tipsy and
having a pity session? It would only be later that she would see
what a narrow escape she’d had.
Trevor deserved
a kick up the arse. He had a good mind to just give it to him next
time he saw him.
Deeming it
prudent to remain silent, Marty switched on the radio and turned it
low before pulling out of the car park and into the traffic.
They were
partway to his parent’s house when Belle suddenly straightened and
said loudly, “No!”
Startled, Marty
glanced at her. “No?”
“You can’t take
me back to your parent’s house.”
“It’s where
you’re staying,” he pointed out reasonably.
“I’m
drunk.”
“Well, yes.
Yes, you are.”
“I can’t have
your parents seeing me like this.” She started to chew her
nails.
“Honey, they
won’t be home yet.” Reaching across, he took her hand and drew it
from her mouth. “Keep chomping like that and you’ll not only not
have any nails left, but your fingers will be down to stubs.”
Placing her hand in her lap, he gave it a propriety pat.
“But if they
see me - no! No, the only answer is to put me on the bus.”
“Bus?”
“Back home.
I’ll be sober by then.”
A little grin
quirked his mouth. “I’m pretty confident that my parents will
notice you missing.”
“Then you’ll
have to take me someplace until I sober up.” She turned to face
him. “Your place.”
“My place?”
“Yes. No one
will think to look for me there.”
Oh boy. “Belle,
that’s not going to happen.”
“I know. No one
will suspect.”
“Actually, if
you don’t turn up at home, my place is the first place my parents
will suspect.”
Flopping back
into the seat, she chewed those lush lips and folded her arms.
Those lush lips started to tremble and a sob burst forth.
Uh-oh. “Now,
Belle, everything is all right. It-”
“N - no it’s
n-not all right!” she wailed, and burst into tears.
Oh great. Not
just a sad drunk, but a watery one as well. Marty rolled his eyes.
Trevor was so going to get a boot up the arse.
The choice was
to either pull up on the side of the road and try to placate Belle,
or just keep driving until he got to his parent’s place and get her
up to her room and dry-eyed. He had no doubt that his parents were
still out, their visit to an unwell friend undoubtedly leading to
dinner and a movie. Best he get Belle back to the house and up to
bed before they did get home.
Decision made,
he kept driving while making soothing sounds, but Belle wasn’t of a
mind to be soothed and her sobs continued right up until he drew
the BMW to a halt before the steps leading up to the front door of
the mansion.
Opening the
passenger door, he leaned across Belle - her heaving bosoms
brushing his arm and, God help him, the side of his chest, talk
about sweet torture - and unclipped her seatbelt. “Now, honey, come
on. No one is home, it’s just us.” Straightening, he took firm hold
of her arm and gently tugged. “Out.”
She came
willingly, and when she straightened she stumbled into him.
Now those big
bosoms were crushed against his chest and her arms were around his
neck. One of her soft thighs slid between his and as she moved it
rubbed against him. Right against his family jewels, and hello, his
shaft was starting to stir. No denying it, he was having some
amorous thoughts, but Belle was just intent on keeping her footing.
He had to remember that. One of his rules was to never come on to a
drunken woman. You could never trust the outcome when she was
sober.
Manfully
ignoring the stirring in his trousers, he wrapped one arm around
her waist and manoeuvred them both slowly up the stairs, unable to
help enjoying the sensation of her soft, generous curves close
against his body. He assured himself enjoying the sensation and
actually groping the source of that sensation were two wholly
different stories.
Still, to be
truthful, he
Trevor had treated her, who could blame her for getting tipsy and
having a pity session? It would only be later that she would see
what a narrow escape she’d had.
Trevor deserved
a kick up the arse. He had a good mind to just give it to him next
time he saw him.
Deeming it
prudent to remain silent, Marty switched on the radio and turned it
low before pulling out of the car park and into the traffic.
They were
partway to his parent’s house when Belle suddenly straightened and
said loudly, “No!”
Startled, Marty
glanced at her. “No?”
“You can’t take
me back to your parent’s house.”
“It’s where
you’re staying,” he pointed out reasonably.
“I’m
drunk.”
“Well, yes.
Yes, you are.”
“I can’t have
your parents seeing me like this.” She started to chew her
nails.
“Honey, they
won’t be home yet.” Reaching across, he took her hand and drew it
from her mouth. “Keep chomping like that and you’ll not only not
have any nails left, but your fingers will be down to stubs.”
Placing her hand in her lap, he gave it a propriety pat.
“But if they
see me - no! No, the only answer is to put me on the bus.”
“Bus?”
“Back home.
I’ll be sober by then.”
A little grin
quirked his mouth. “I’m pretty confident that my parents will
notice you missing.”
“Then you’ll
have to take me someplace until I sober up.” She turned to face
him. “Your place.”
“My place?”
“Yes. No one
will think to look for me there.”
Oh boy. “Belle,
that’s not going to happen.”
“I know. No one
will suspect.”
“Actually, if
you don’t turn up at home, my place is the first place my parents
will suspect.”
Flopping back
into the seat, she chewed those lush lips and folded her arms.
Those lush lips started to tremble and a sob burst forth.
Uh-oh. “Now,
Belle, everything is all right. It-”
“N - no it’s
n-not all right!” she wailed, and burst into tears.
Oh great. Not
just a sad drunk, but a watery one as well. Marty rolled his eyes.
Trevor was so going to get a boot up the arse.
The choice was
to either pull up on the side of the road and try to placate Belle,
or just keep driving until he got to his parent’s place and get her
up to her room and dry-eyed. He had no doubt that his parents were
still out, their visit to an unwell friend undoubtedly leading to
dinner and a movie. Best he get Belle back to the house and up to
bed before they did get home.
Decision made,
he kept driving while making soothing sounds, but Belle wasn’t of a
mind to be soothed and her sobs continued right up until he drew
the BMW to a halt before the steps leading up to the front door of
the mansion.
Opening the
passenger door, he leaned across Belle - her heaving bosoms
brushing his arm and, God help him, the side of his chest, talk
about sweet torture - and unclipped her seatbelt. “Now, honey, come
on. No one is home, it’s just us.” Straightening, he took firm hold
of her arm and gently tugged. “Out.”
She came
willingly, and when she straightened she stumbled into him.
Now those big
bosoms were crushed against his chest and her arms were around his
neck. One of her soft thighs slid between his and as she moved it
rubbed against him. Right against his family jewels, and hello, his
shaft was starting to stir. No denying it, he was having some
amorous thoughts, but Belle was just intent on keeping her footing.
He had to remember that. One of his rules was to never come on to a
drunken woman. You could never trust the outcome when she was
sober.
Manfully
ignoring the stirring in his trousers, he wrapped one arm around
her waist and manoeuvred them both slowly up the stairs, unable to
help enjoying the sensation of her soft, generous curves close
against his body. He assured himself enjoying the sensation and
actually groping the source of that sensation were two wholly
different stories.
Still, to be
truthful, he
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