Читать книгу: «Beyond Temptation»

Robyn glanced across the table and decided she had to fuck him.

The thought sent a pulse through her loins and her breathing deepened. She could feel her cheeks redden and knew her dark-blue eyes were shining purposefully. After sliding off one shoe, she stretched her toes against the confines of her stocking. Beneath the table, she deliberately edged her foot towards him.

The dinner party was going surprisingly well, she thought. Its success was made remarkable by the fact that neither she nor her husband was milling around the guests and pampering egos. Robyn sat at the bottom end of the table, close enough to play footsie with Dominic and discreetly distant from the rest of the crowd. Her husband, Harold, was at the head of the table, lost in conversation with his secretary Sheridan. The delicate strains of Telemann’s Tafelmusik filled the air, adding to the baroque ambience of the evening.

Considering the weighty nature of the conversations she had engaged in earlier this evening, it shouldn’t have been a night for eroticism. Robyn felt sure that no one else in the room was thinking about sex, and that thought added fuel to her excitement. It made her feel daring and special and bold and unconventional. All of those moods enhanced her growing arousal.

As soon as her toes touched him, Dominic glanced up.

He gave her a curious smile. The fringe of his tousled blond hair dangled awkwardly over his cool grey eyes. Like every other man in the room, he wore full evening dress. The night had begun only an hour earlier but already Dominic had loosened his bow tie and popped the button on his shirt collar. The casual destruction of his well-groomed image gave him a distinctive appearance that set him apart from the other male guests.

Robyn’s desire for him turned into a desperate craving. It reminded her of the long month she had suffered when she quit smoking. A pulse throbbed between her legs, a rhythmic beat that increased her need with each quickening moment. When she caught sight of his playful grin she had to amend her thoughts. She didn’t just want Dominic: she needed him.

She cast a glance in Harold’s direction, checking that her foot-play had gone unnoticed. It was something of a relief to realise Harold hadn’t seen the exchange. But she should have known he would be oblivious to her. As was usual nowadays, he was engrossed in his conversation with Sheridan.

The secretary sat on Harold’s right-hand side as he regaled her with some lengthy anecdote that Robyn couldn’t hear. Her blonde hair was streaked with shots of pale blue and red, and the coloured locks bounced lazily up and down as she nodded her feigned interest in Harold’s monologue.

Robyn had no idea why Sheridan coloured her hair in such a way. With a touch of bitter jealousy, she suspected that it was the woman’s sad attempt to hold on to the last years of her youth before she struck the ripe old age of twenty-four. Not that Harold would have been paying any attention to Sheridan’s hair, Robyn noted cynically. The woman’s breasts weren’t overly large but – with her low-cut top and the benefits of a Wonderbra – she was displaying more cleavage than Robyn revealed in the shower. Harold’s gaze was fixed appreciatively on this sight. His smile was broad and lascivious.

Robyn didn’t mind his fascination with the secretary. She and Harold had each been pursuing their own interests since the start of their marriage and she knew they were both beyond jealousy. Admittedly, she didn’t care for Sheridan but she knew that in the past she had enjoyed the attention of lovers that Harold actively disliked.

The adage about two wrongs not making a right flitted through her mind. She cast the thought away with a frown, sure it wasn’t that particular issue that troubled her. Harold could screw whomever he desired, just as Robyn was free to enjoy the same privileges. It had been an unspoken rule of their relationship since the day they first met. She simply wished Harold would show a little more discretion with his latest flirtation, especially in front of their dinner guests.

Mentally dismissing her husband and his secretary she turned her smile back on Dominic.

‘You have a lovely home,’ Dominic said, leaning over the table.

Robyn glanced around the dining hall, a weary expression on her face, taking in the ornate chandelier, the oak-panelled walls and the framed oils. Heavy curtains fell from the dining room’s high ceiling to the floor. The silverware sparkled with a freshly polished lustre.

‘It keeps the cold out.’

‘Is that you?’ he asked, nodding at one particular painting.

Robyn smiled at the canvas. ‘Harold doesn’t like that one,’ she explained. ‘He seems to think it’s too exhibitionist to have my half-naked body displayed in front of our dinner guests.’

Dominic seemed to be considering her remark as he studied the painting. There was a playful smile on his lips.

‘I think it’s only right that you display your half-naked body to your dinner guests,’ he began. ‘I don’t think you realise how much some of them appreciate things like that.’

She smiled indulgently.

Beneath the table, she allowed her stocking-clad toes to brush beneath the cuff of his trousers. Her efforts were rewarded by the widening of his grin but he kept his gaze fixed on the painting as he spoke.

‘Is that one of Yale’s?’ he asked. ‘It seems to have the flair and the command of artistry I’d associate with Yale’s work – the depth and the bold, sensual strokes.’

‘Yale?’ Robyn frowned. The question made no sense and she wondered what had prompted it. ‘Yale, the American university?’

He shook his head. His patronising smile inched wider. The condescending glint in his eyes came close to quelling her need for him.

‘Yale Walters, the painter,’ he explained with infuriating patience. ‘I thought you would have heard of him, what with the column you write for Art.’

She shook her head.

‘No. Never heard of him.’

Not particularly caring about the conversation, she edged her foot higher, rubbing purposefully up his leg. The electric frisson of silk against his trousers sent a thrill shivering to the top of her thigh. With a salacious smile, she moved her toes closer to the growing bulge in his lap.

Dominic drew a startled breath.

As she watched, he glanced at the rest of the diners, confirming that what he was doing with Robyn remained unobserved. She liked that he was showing enough courtesy to value discretion. That would make things easier.

‘Who is this Yale?’ she asked.

Robyn still had no interest in the topic. The idea of discussing an unknown artist came close to spoiling her mood. But she carried on anyway.

If any of her guests had seen her smiling inanely at Dominic they might have suspected something. Past experience of publicly dallying with lovers had taught her to be circumspect. The pretence of a conversation made for the ideal cover while her foot rubbed at him. She knew that the only person who might be within earshot was her PA, Gayle, sitting in the chair to Robyn’s right. And, while she trusted the woman, and knew Gayle was beyond gossip and tittle-tattle, Robyn was still careful.

‘I went to university with Yale, a couple of years ago,’ Dominic explained. ‘But I saw him again just recently. He’s developing quite a reputation for his work. I’d hoped your husband could do a feature on Yale’s paintings in a forthcoming issue of Art. Yale’s an excellent artist in the tradition of Lichtenstein and Ramos but most of the critics are saying he conveys a more palpable air of realism. Part of the reason I wangled myself an invitation here tonight was so that I could make you aware of him. He’s too good not to get the exposure that your column could give him.’

He’s a bloody agent, Robyn thought scornfully. She tried not to let this revelation kill her mood. With a determined effort she concentrated on Dominic as a potential conquest rather than a prospective vulture.

‘Have you had a chance to talk to Harold yet?’ she asked, maintaining the charade of a conversation.

Dominic shook his head. ‘Perhaps you could arrange an introduction?’

‘Perhaps I could take you somewhere else instead?’ With forced meaning, she added, ‘Perhaps I could take you somewhere away from my husband? Personally, I think that would be more satisfying.’

Dominic looked momentarily torn. Robyn decided she liked seeing him wear that expression.

‘I’d like you to take me somewhere away from your husband,’ he admitted. ‘I’d like that very much. But I did promise Yale I’d mention his name.’

Robyn shrugged, growing impatient. The pulse between her thighs was beating with an insistent desire that was not being hastened by Dominic’s insistence on trying to promote an unknown artist.

‘You’ve mentioned his name,’ she said sharply. ‘I’ll keep an eye open in case I get the chance to see one of his exhibitions. If I do, I’ll review him.’

‘That’s very generous. I’m grateful.’

‘Perhaps we can find a way for you to show your gratitude.’

As she spoke, she pushed her foot firmly against him. Her toes had begun to touch the swell at the front of his pants and she traced the urgent thrust of his arousal. The discovery of his size and eagerness added to her growing excitement.

With the combined distractions, and the promise of further intimacy to come, she began to feel more kindly disposed towards holding a conversation about artists and their work. She was an art critic by profession and this was her forte. She felt more than able to carry her side of the conversation without having to think about it. She was able to speak whilst her body engaged with more physical pleasures.

‘What’s his medium?’ she asked, working her heel against the base of Dominic’s erection. As she delivered the question, Robyn reached for a breadstick from a glass in the centre of the table. Toying with it, the tip resting upon her lower lip, she grinned at him.

Struggling to maintain his composure, Dominic shook his head. His cheeks flushed. He swallowed thickly.

‘Acrylics. He does erotic studies in acrylics. I believe he occasionally uses watercolours, gouache and some oils …’

‘How versatile,’ Robyn broke in. She rolled the tip of the breadstick on her lip, her gaze fixed on him as she spoke. Her eyes, normally the colour of a warm summer sky, shone like sapphires.

Dominic swallowed again and cast a glance at the rest of the diners before continuing: ‘… but he prefers to keep his artwork to acrylics. He says there’s something sensuous about the use of such a viscous medium.’

Robyn continued to toy with the breadstick. Daringly, she teased the tip of her tongue against the rounded end. Then she studied Dominic with heavy-lidded eyes as she pushed it slowly into her mouth. She was rewarded by Dominic’s deepening blush.

‘I really do think I should have a look at some of this Yale’s work.’

He nodded, seeming pleased by her apparent interest. ‘He rates you very highly as a critic. He says that you appraise work, rather than trying to pad out your column with viperous criticism and astringent soundbites.’

Robyn frowned. Again she felt close to forgetting her need for Dominic. He was a pretty boy, but he had some irritating ways.

‘You’ve been discussing me?’

Dominic’s easy smile was an obvious attempt to placate her.

‘He’s an artist and he regularly reads your column. We’ve talked about most of the critics. But yours is the only name that doesn’t make him kick his easel or spatter paint on his studio wall.’

Robyn said nothing, silently encouraging Dominic to continue.

‘When he heard there was an invite for this party floating around, he insisted I come and mention his work.’ Dominic gave her a pleasant smile. ‘He was particularly insistent that I should try and seek you out so I could make you aware of his existence.’

With her suspicions mostly assuaged, Robyn nodded. She pressed her foot against his hard swell and treated him to a reassuring grin. ‘Then you’ve mentioned his name,’ she allowed. ‘You’ve made me aware of his existence. And, as I said, if I ever get the chance to criticise his work I’ll try and do it fairly.’

‘I’m sure that will make him happy.’

Dominic was trying to look unaffected as she rolled her foot over the raging thrust of his erection. Robyn took a sadistic pleasure from the fact that he didn’t quite manage the expression.

‘That’s good,’ she purred. ‘I enjoy making people happy.’

‘Me too,’ Dominic whispered. ‘Perhaps we could do something together where we try to make each other happy?’

She could hear the lewd intent in his words. The warm wetness between her legs caused a tremor of anticipation. Once again discretion was at the forefront of her mind and she glanced warily in Harold’s direction.

His hand was on Sheridan’s arm and the pair were engrossed with each other. Robyn could see the light in her husband’s eyes and found she could read the expression effortlessly. Harold was excited by the woman with the multicoloured hair and he would do anything to have her.

For a moment, Robyn was saddened by the thought, realising it had been a long time since Harold had looked at her that way. She dismissed the threatening wave of melancholy and turned to her right.

Tapping Gayle discreetly on the shoulder, she said, ‘Dominic’s going to need directions to the little boys’ room in a moment. I trust you’ll point him the right way.’ She winked as she said the words, making sure that her unspoken meaning was understood.

Gayle glanced from Dominic to Robyn. When Gayle brushed the dark hair from her eyes Robyn noticed a frown creasing her PA’s forehead.

‘I thought you said Harold had been in a funny mood lately?’

Robyn shrugged. She tried to look indifferent but she did not like Gayle questioning her motives. She particularly didn’t like that Gayle was able to broach such a delicate subject.

‘Perhaps that’s why I’m thinking of spending some time with Dominic,’ Robyn suggested haughtily. ‘Dominic is not in a funny mood.’

‘You’re playing a dangerous game,’ Gayle said. Her dark eyes flashed with some unspoken warning that Robyn chose to ignore.

‘Perhaps I am playing a dangerous game,’ Robyn agreed. ‘But dangerous games are the most fun, aren’t they?’

Without waiting for a reply she slid her foot away from Dominic, eased it back into her shoe, and gracefully left the room.

* * *

As soon as she saw Robyn disappear through the door, Sheridan frowned and placed a hand on Harold’s arm to interrupt him.

‘Where’s your wife this evening?’

Harold glanced towards the foot of the table then scowled over the busy guests. His frown deepened.

‘She must have slipped out for a moment.’

The granite in his voice told her that he didn’t believe such a casual explanation. The sullen line of his jaw showed that he wouldn’t let the matter rest there.

Smiling at her own manipulative skills, Sheridan shook her head. The multicoloured streaks in her hair bounced gaily, enticing his attention back to her.

‘No matter,’ she assured him. ‘I’m sure she’ll be back in a moment. Now, you were telling me about this Scottish manor house you own …’

As he began to respond, Sheridan listened with an uninterested ear. She knew enough about Harold’s Scottish manor house already. She thought it was likely that she knew more about the building than Harold did. Trying to find something of interest to focus on while Harold continued to talk, she glanced around the room and studied the other guests.

She saw Gayle talking to Dominic. There was a sombre expression on the PA’s face as she spoke. Sheridan watched Gayle lead Dominic to the dining room door, where she spoke briskly to him before returning to her seat.

Dominic left the dining hall surreptitiously, and Sheridan knew she was the only one who had seen him go in the same direction as Robyn.

Idly, she wondered how she could convey this information to Harold without giving the impression that she was telling tales and trying to create a divide between him and Robyn.

* * *

Robyn stood at the top of the stairs.

She stared down at Dominic with a predatory smile. Her body rocked slightly to the distant pulse of the Tafelmusik. The gentle movement caused the hem of her dress to sway lightly to and fro. It was a contrived position and she used it to maximum effect. As Dominic climbed the staircase she knew he would be able to see beneath the hem. The gusset of her black panties was bound to be visible to him as he stared up at her.

She smiled, excited by her own boldness.

When she saw the anticipatory light flicker in his eyes, she knew his gaze had been caught by her display. His pace up the steps didn’t quicken or slow but she noticed his gait now appeared ever so slightly awkward. Her smile broadened as she realised this was caused by the growing stiffness at the top of his leg.

He finally snatched his gaze away from the hem of her skirt when he was within two steps of her. Robyn stayed in the same position, allowing him to move closer. The scent of his aftershave caught in her nostrils and she inhaled his nearness.

‘Gayle doesn’t think we should be doing this,’ he murmured.

Robyn sniffed. ‘Gayle’s not paid to think. She’s only a PA.’

Not wanting to continue the conversation, she circled her arm around Dominic’s waist and guided him along the galleried landing towards her bedroom.

‘What does your husband think about this?’

Feigning indifference, Robyn shrugged.

‘I don’t believe Harold knows about this. But if you’re that desperate for his opinion, you could always ask him afterwards.’

Hoping the finality in her voice would end that avenue of conversation, Robyn pushed him through the bedroom door.

For a moment, they were locked in darkness. There was only the sound of his breathing, barely audible beneath the eager panting of her own burgeoning desire. Robyn could feel the heat of his lean, hard body close to hers.

In the lightless vacuum of the bedroom her arousal grew. The hectic pulse between her legs slowly transformed into a desperate ache that demanded satisfaction.

The lights came on accidentally. As Dominic took her in his arms and thrust her against the wall, Robyn’s shoulder caught the switch. She blinked against the sudden flood of brightness and smiled up at his boyishly handsome face. Unable to stop herself, she raked her fingers through his tousled blond locks.

‘Robyn,’ he murmured.

He had her pinned against the wall. His eager hands touched and caressed. He traversed the swell of her hips and the line of her waist. Moving upwards, his fingers brushed over the mounds of her breasts and caught the urgent thrust of her nipples. Grinning, he caressed the back of her neck and then stroked his fingers down her spine.

She sighed and prepared to melt for him.

Boldly, Dominic cupped the cheeks of her backside.

Robyn felt herself being pulled against him. His erection pressed forcefully into her stomach. The size of him was large enough to make her shiver.

She bit back a startled cry as he kissed her. His tongue slid into her open mouth. His lips bruised hers with the ferocity of his passion. The tingling between her legs had been urgent before. Now it was sharp and exposed, like a crackle of electricity. The heat of desire seared the flesh of her sex.

Her nipples ached with their need to be touched. Her inner muscles clenched repeatedly as she anticipated the pleasure to come. Her breath had turned to a raw and ragged panting.

‘On the bed,’ she whispered, when he eventually moved his mouth from hers. ‘Take me on the bed. I need you. I need you now.’

Dominic clearly needed no further encouragement.

He glanced quickly around the bedroom, seeming unaware of its sumptuous designer charms and stylised furnishings. His interest was focused entirely on her.

It didn’t matter to Robyn that he was overlooking the brilliant combination of pastel greens and antique brass that she had worked so hard to co-ordinate. The appraisal and the attention he was giving to her more than made up for any offence she could have taken. He carried her across the four brisk steps from the door to the bed. He completed the journey by hurling her onto the bed with an understated show of strength.

Robyn bounced in the centre of the four-poster, momentarily lost in an explosion of faux-suede sheets. She brushed long blonde locks away from her face and shook her hair back into some semblance of style.

When she glanced at him he was smiling down at her with a lusty grin.

Lowering her gaze she noticed the swell at the front of his pants had pushed the fabric out of shape. His erection was clearly large.

She caught an eager breath in anticipation. She was desperate for him.

When she landed on the bed, the hem of her skirt had ridden up. The tops of her stockings were exposed, along with a thin line of the pale flesh at her inner thighs. Although she couldn’t see, she suspected the crotch of her panties was also visible to him. Holding his gaze, she reached down and stroked a finger against the gusset of her exposed crotch.

The desire in his eyes gleamed.

‘Do you want me to take these off?’ she whispered.

Dumbstruck, he nodded.

Robyn raised her eyebrows. Her fingertip trailed lazily back and forth against the silky panel of fabric. The whisper of sensation was like an angel’s kiss against her crotch. She shook her head and prepared to ask the question for a second time.

‘Do you want me to take these off?’ she repeated slowly. ‘Or are you going to do it for me?’

The words were like a switch.

He dropped to his knees beside the bed and placed his hands on her stocking-clad thighs. Smiling into her face, he teased the tips of his fingers against the elasticated band of her panties. Slowly, he began to ease the fabric away.

Robyn was tempted to pull him on top of her and demand that he fuck her hard and fuck her now. She was horny and desperate to have him inside her. But she resisted the urge. She was going to have him eventually and knew that savouring each moment would bring its own reward in the ultimate explosion of her climax.

The panties were eased slowly away from her wanton flesh.

Her pussy lips, wet with arousal, kissed the gusset farewell. And then the fabric was drawn down her legs and over her ankles. When his fingers reached for the tops of her stockings, she placed a hand on his and shook her head.

‘Let me wear those,’ she said firmly. ‘I always believe that sex feels so much more illicit when I’m wearing stockings.’

‘You like illicit sex?’

‘Illicit sex is the best sort, isn’t it?’

His lecherous smile was as good as a nod of agreement.

Moving his head closer he said, ‘The stockings might restrict me a little. If I want to kiss your legs, I can only kiss the skin here.’

To illustrate where he meant he placed his lips against her inner thigh. His warm breath touched her bare skin and his tousled hair tickled her pussy.

Robyn drew a jagged breath.

Every muscle in her body was tense with revitalised excitement. The sensation bit a second time when he moved his mouth to her other leg. Although she couldn’t be certain, she thought he had moved his head higher.

Her heart pounded as he kissed her a third time.

His lips had shifted infuriatingly close to the crease between her legs. His hands caressed her through the sheer denier of her stockings. He was warming her flesh until she shivered. When he placed the fourth kiss against her, she shoved a fist into her mouth to suppress the scream of joy.

* * *

Gayle placed herself deliberately between Harold and the foot of the stairs. In an attempt to appear casual about the stance, she smiled at him and tried to think of an appropriate conversation opener. She had silently selected and discounted half a dozen before the urgency of the situation made her blurt the first thing to cross her mind.

‘I’ve barely seen you in the office for the past few months.’

Harold frowned. ‘We were talking yesterday,’ he reminded her. ‘That was when I gave you the invitation to this soirée.’

She gave an embarrassed smile and coughed apologetically. ‘I meant before that,’ she told him. ‘Where have you been hiding yourself?’

He looked away and made no attempt to disguise his sigh of exasperation. When he eventually answered her question, Gayle realised his gaze was fixed on the stairs behind her. As she watched him, she knew he was mentally tracing a route along the galleried landing towards his bedroom.

It was the same route Robyn had taken.

‘Because I only relied on your secretarial services while I was between PAs,’ Harold began, ‘it shouldn’t come as any surprise that we no longer see one another in the office.’

His eyes shone with defiance as he dared her to challenge this remark.

‘Of course. You have Sheridan now,’ Gayle remembered. ‘How could I forget her? That hair is so distinctive.’ She could have added that everything about Sheridan was distinctive but she suspected Harold was already aware of Sheridan’s many charms. Snatching at another conversational gambit she asked, ‘How’s Sheridan shaping up?’

This time Harold’s sigh was heavier. ‘Sheridan is shaping up very nicely, thank you,’ he replied. ‘Not only does she have the ability to spell correctly, she also allows me to visit the bathroom when I need to pee.’

Gayle tried to look surprised by her own foolishness but she couldn’t manage the expression with any conviction.

‘I’m sorry,’ she gushed. ‘I didn’t realise you wanted to get past me. You should have said. I just thought we were …’

She left the rest of her sentence unspoken as Harold pushed her to one side and began marching up the stairs.

He climbed four steps. The angry set of his body caused each footfall to pound as he moved away from her. Gayle could see he was an irresistible force heading to meet an immovable object, a spark waiting to set something alight. She suspected Harold finding Robyn in bed with Dominic could be sufficiently incendiary to create a terrible and devastating explosion.

With one last hope of saving the situation, Gayle called his name.

‘Harold!’

He stopped and turned to glower down at her. His frown was an unspoken question.

Panicked by the sudden need to say something, Gayle said the first thing that popped into her head. ‘Is my spelling really that bad?’

He didn’t bother replying. He simply turned his back on her and continued to march up the stairs towards the closed door of his bedroom.

* * *

There was an instant where Robyn thought she had heard someone call Harold’s name. But she couldn’t be certain. The sound came from a million miles away, muffled and muted by the layers of faux-suede that now surrounded her head. Not bothering to waste time on what was obviously a figment of her imagination, she concentrated on Dominic and his hungry mouth.

His tongue slid viciously against the lips of her sex.

Excitement had already made her wet but now she could feel her hole dripping with a strong, syrupy need. She yearned to pull his mouth away and have his body press against hers. But she didn’t allow herself to give in to that urge. The thrill he evoked in her clitoris was far too great for her to stop him.

Between her legs Dominic grunted with animal passion as he lapped wetly at her sex. She caressed the back of his neck, grinning broadly to herself. A rush of pleasure built in her body and she prepared herself for the explosion of the evening’s first climax.

For a moment, her mood was broken as she sensed a third presence in the room. Her face was buried beneath the sheets and she had to brush them away to see who it was. By the time she was able to look around, the third person was disappearing. As she gazed up from the bed, a dark-suited man stormed out of the bedroom. The door had closed on him before she could put an identity to his glimpsed back.

It could have been Harold, she supposed.

But it could also have been any broad-shouldered man in a tuxedo who was attending the evening’s party.

Dismissing the intruder as a lost guest searching for the bathroom, she glanced down at Dominic’s head. The sight of him buried against her intimate flesh was the final impetus her body needed. She allowed the rush of pleasure to flow through her loins.

He stared up at her.

The lower half of his face was hidden as he worked his tongue deep into her sex. The appreciation she saw in his eyes was heart-warming and Robyn was struck by the first flickering pulse of an impending orgasm. Groaning happily she bucked her hips forward and let the ripple of euphoria wash over her body. Pressing herself hard against the bed, she savoured every pleasurable tremor.

When she opened her eyes, Dominic was standing.

His hands worked clumsily on his belt. She could see the shape of his bulging erection pushing at the front of his pants. Once again she was struck by the urgent need to have his naked body pressed against hers.