Ridden hard, p.13
Ridden Hard, page 13
part #2 of Train Wreck Series
I rest my head against the top of her thighs, my forehead on the V of lace and breathe in slowly, catching the essence of her.
Then hook my fingers under the lace and slide her thong down her legs.
Normally I’d stand now, unbutton, unzip, pick her up, push her against the shelving and pump into her. Instead, I gently nudge her legs apart and touch and nuzzle, tongue and fingers stroking. Her breathing quickens, her back arches, her head drops back. She clutches at the shelf behind her.
It does feel like I’m making love to.
As I nudge one shoulder under her knee, I feel the shelf sway.
Pip giggles. “It’s going to fall on us, Luke,” she whispers.
I look up at her. Her eyes are still dark. My hand is still cupped between her legs.
“Fuck,” I say as quietly as she did. “Then they’d really wonder what you were doing in here.”
I pull my hand away, stand up, and watch her in the half-light. Her hair tumbles down around her face as she tries to push her skirt down, but I brush her hand to stop her.
If we didn’t know each other so well, this could get embarrassing. “You look magnificent.”
But the spell is broken. She shakes her head. “I doubt that, naked from the waist down, my skirt hiked up, top gone, I bet I don’t look the way I did in the mirror this morning before I left for work.”
“Probably not.” This could go either way. “But you look sexy like this.” I push the hair back off her face and can smell her arousal as I kiss her.
The shelving unit sways again. Any moment it’s going to collapse, and years of fabric will tumble to the floor.
I step back and pull her away from the shelf. The shelf shudders and some of the rolls move. “The bastards who installed that should have secured it to the wall properly,” I whisper.
She nods and giggles. “I’ll let Evelyn know.”
I grin back.
Chapter 20
Pippa
LUKE REALLY IS GORGEOUS. And this isn’t like him. It isn’t the way he does things. I like what he’s saying. I like that he’s making love, slowly and romantically, and the way he’s looking at me, I’ve never felt so desirable.
I gently run my fingers through his hair.
I still want him. Still want to finish what he’s started here. But we’re in the fabric cupboard at the firm where I want to work for the rest of my life.
Well, at least until I’m a successful designer.
He presses up against me and kisses me again. The fly of his jeans hard against my pelvic bone. The pressure there building, building again.
He slides his arms around me and pulls my body harder against his. “Do you want to stop?” It must have cost him to ask that.
Good sense says, move away. Get dressed and get out of the cupboard. But everything else just wants to keep going.
“Do you?” I can tell he doesn’t. The erection must be killing him.
Luke shakes his head, then looks around the room. “The shelving on the other wall looks as unstable as the unit we’ve been leaning against.”
His professional appraisal of the quality of the workmanship, I guess.
Rich fabric covers the counter and tumbles to the floor. Luke looks at the counter, then looks a question at me.
“No, we can’t use that, we’d leave stains on the fabric.”
“You do realise this is getting less and less romantic?” he asks.
I snort. That’s never bothered him before.
“We could save it until tonight.”
“I have to go home. Dad wants the timber I’ve picked up this afternoon.” He’s still looking from the counter to the floor as if he can’t bear not to finish what he’s started.
Then he runs his arm along the top of the counter, pushing all the fabric onto the floor.
“What are you doing?”
“Making sure we don’t leave stains.” He kicks the billowing material into a pile, then takes off his jacket and spreads it out on top of the counter.
“You’re kidding?”
“No.” He pulls off his t-shirt and lays it on top of the jacket.
“I’ll take any stains with me.” He pulls me close. My bare feet sink into the soft layers on the floor. “Now, where were we?
I hear someone try the handle of the door and look past him.
“It’s locked,” he whispers. “They’ll just think we’ve gone.”
“But the key won’t be on its hook when they look.”
“That’s a good thing.” He kisses me, undoes my bra and slips the straps down my shoulders. He nuzzles at my breasts, naked and ready for his mouth. My soft gasp surprises me. He’s done that a million times. It shouldn’t still affect me like that.
Now his hands are undoing the button on my skirt.
“They’ll think you have it, and that we’re wandering around the building with it somewhere.”
Then the zip. I can feel my breasts against his chest.
To hell with it. This is going to happen. Desperately, I reach for his fly.
He pushes my skirt to the floor and steps back a bit so he can see me. He studies me from head to toe, and I can feel a slight blush rising.
“You realise how lovely you look naked and surrounded by beautiful colours. They’re reflecting on your skin. His forefinger runs lazily down my body, nipple to pelvic bone like he’s tracing some reflected colour only he can see.
Then he grins, undoes the jeans, toes off his boots and lets the jeans fall to the floor and steps out of them. Somehow stepping on his socks to get them off with the jeans.
He looks as good as any of the male models that sometimes wander around the building.
“Magnificent,” I say.
“I know.” Luke’s never been short of confidence in the way he looks. He wraps his arms around me and lifts me up onto the countertop. I lean back, palms on the old timber.
“Now as long as nobody finds a spare key we’re right,” he murmurs.
I hadn’t thought about there being a spare key. I try to sit up.
“Luke, we can’t…” I start to say, but he gently pushes me back.
He looks amazing naked in the dim light and profusion of fabric. It’s strange to be so overwhelmed again after him barely noticing me for months.
My eyes move from his face to his cock. “You look ready” I whisper. “You look like you’re in a hurry.”
“No,” he whispers back. “I’m going to do this properly. I’m going to make love to you as if we have all the time in the world.” The door handle rattles again.
“Jesus.” I look over his shoulder. “But we don’t.”
He stoops, picks up a length of red satin and drapes it over his head. “If anyone comes in, we’ll hide under this.
“Idiot,” But, I’m as turned on by this as he is. Maybe it’s the danger of being discovered that makes it exciting.
He leans over, one arm braced beside me, and kisses my lips, the red satin slithers over my shoulders and breasts.
He moves his mouth to my earlobe. “Shhh. Relax. Enjoy.” Then kisses down the side of my neck. Then breasts. That intake of breath as he bites on one nipple then the other.
“God, Luke.” My body rises to meet his. “I want to touch you too.” My hands run the length of his body.
He strokes my breasts then moves his mouth over my stomach to the spot between my legs, always too sensitive for his fingers at this point. He pulls my forward a little to the edge of the counter then kneels.
“The perfect height.” Slowly and carefully, he nuzzles and sucks, touches and strokes. He knows my body. He knows each stage and the way I liked to be touched. I arch into his mouth, and my hands leave his head and rest on his clothes. He steps up the rhythm.
This time the footsteps outside the door get no reaction. My hands clutch at his jacket, I’m close. His fingers and lips focus more and draw a long, soft moan. I quiver under his touch, then gasp as he goes deeper. My thighs tighten around his head, body stiffening.
Luke keeps a tight hold on my hips. I feel a change come over me, a soft sigh, then a wilting into him. He smoothes his hand down my hips keeping the touches of lips and tongue light and feathery until I’m calm.
Then, after a long pause where neither of us move, I whisper, “Stand up. I’m lonely up here. I want to love you too.”
That sounds fair but logistically difficult with me up on the counter, until I slither off, taking the jacket and t-shirt with me. The clothes tumble to the floor. Then my mouth takes him in and I move, hands and mouth caressing and touching.
Tidying up the fabric room is taking a lot longer than I imagined it would. I feel obliged to finish it before I go home.
I roll up a length of velvet. I shouldn’t have had sex with Luke in here. That was about as unprofessional as I could get. And it isn’t the way I want the people at Munros to see me.
I want them to see Pippa Butler, beautiful, unobtainable, classy and talented, not slutty Phillipa Butler, always up for a bit of the other. I’m not like that anymore. I’m the sensible one. The one who takes care of everyone.
I push the roll of velvet hard into the shelf with the vintage fabrics. Then bend, scooping up an armful of lace, place it gently on the tabletop and start sorting and folding.
Can’t believe I let Luke talk me into having sex here. He can be such an arse sometimes. Always fun, unpredictable, and with a libido, you wouldn’t believe. And the way he looks still takes my breath away. But he never thinks of the consequences, ever. And I’m sure he still sees me as Phillipa, the girl always ready to spread her legs for him whenever we are together.
I study the piece of lace I’m holding. Beautiful. The design corded and studded with diamantes, almost a 3D effect.
We were so lucky we weren’t found.
And Dominic looked at me a bit strangely after Luke left, but maybe that was just jealousy. He’s always liked me and makes it clear if I ever want to get rid of Luke, he’d be happy to fill the gap. Maybe Dominic wished it was him who had trapped me in the cupboard.
Or maybe I’m a whispered joke. Just the stupid slut who’d do anything if someone paid her a bit of attention.
I fold the piece of lace and put it on top of the pile. I thought I’d left all that self-doubt and lack of confidence behind when I left school and moved over here. That’s why I never go home. That way I never have to wonder what people are thinking about me when I met them.
Trust Luke to bring all the fear and uncertainty rushing back.
I slide the pile of lace onto the shelf with the velvet. And trust Luke to risk jeopardising my future here just because he wanted to fuck.
When I see him again, we’ll have a talk.
I’ll tell him that sort of thing isn’t going to happen again.
No more pushing me up against walls in semi-public places, no more wrapping my legs around him and fucking. Especially no more hiding in cupboards where we can hear people walking past.
I’ll tell him he has to treat me with more respect.
I pick up an armload of cream silk. It billows onto the countertop, and I slide the softness through my fingers. We’d ended up on the floor on top of the fabric. How did Luke talk me into taking such a risk?
Said he wanted to make love to me. That’s all it took.
And I know how it will go if I try to tell him to treat me with more respect.
He’ll just laugh and slide his hand between my thighs and push his fingers in and stroke gently.
“Like this?” he’d ask, his eyes teasing. And I’d respond. In seconds my thong would be in his pocket, skirt hitched up around my hips. We’d tumble onto the carpet or couch or the grass, or I’d be bent over something, and we’d fuck.
Or if we were in the car, I’d have him unzipped and I’d be sitting astride him in seconds just to feel him inside me. To feel him love me. To reassure myself he really did.
I look around the room at the rolls of material in shelves now. Nearly finished. Just paper rubbish, empty cardboard rolls and scraps too small to bother keeping.
I’ll go home and come back Friday afternoon after class finishes and do the final clean up. Luke will be back on Friday, and I’ll make sure we talk.
Chapter 21
Luke
I LEAVE PIPPA at Munros. I’m not sure what got into me in the fabric room. Something had triggered that memory of the first time we made love and how perfect it had been. I’d wanted that again. And after a couple of objections Pip had gone along with it. She always did, always had.
As I got in the car, I looked back at her. She stood on the steps and waved me off. She’d straightened her hair and put those sexy librarian clothes back on, but she still had that flushed, just made love to look to her.
And I had the impression, even before we left the room, she regretted what we’d done. I’ve never felt that from her before, and in the time we’ve been together we’ve had sex pretty much anywhere any time I’d wanted.
I feel guilty But I’m not sure whether I feel guilty about making love to Pippa in the fabric room or going back to Rose now.
Somehow, I love both Pippa and Rose, and my conscience screams I’m betraying them both. I can’t stand the mess I’ve made. Pippa never seems to have any doubts about how much she loves me, which makes this thing with Rose even worse. I should choose. I should do it now before someone gets hurt. No, I’m going to hurt at least one of them whatever happens.
I don’t turn back to talk to Pippa. And I’m pretty sure I won’t tell Rose what I’ve just done when I get back to her either.
Rose had better not be at the house when I get there because I need a shower. I can still smell Pippa on me.
Chapter 22
Cole
Today starts the same way as yesterday did. The gentle ride along the riverbank, the break at the clearing and then riding back to the stable.
This time after we get back to the yards, Milly has us both in the paddock with the horses on lunge lines.
Milly gently flicks her line. “We’ll start by working them for ten-minutes on the lunge.”
Tobias walks obediently in an arc around her. Milly looks all business, long whip in one hand and a line in the other.
She looks like she knows what she’s doing. I don’t. I’ve lunged racehorses but mainly when they’re being broken in to settle them. This seems different. Karim looks at me in a, ‘do you know what you are doing?’ way. Luckily everyone else is more interested in training the racehorses than watching us.
Milly looks over. “Cole, ask Karim to walk in a twenty-metre circle. When he can do that, get him to trot then canter and halt. Use consistent voice commands to help him understand what you want him to do.”
Yeah, right.
She goes back to lunging Tobias. He walks and then moves smoothly to a canter.
I copy what Milly’s doing. Karim yawns then almost does as he’s asked.
Milly glances over. “Don’t control the line too much. Allow him to stretch and move naturally. Watch his gait and take note of areas where he might need more training.”
I can’t see anything wrong with Karim’s gait. “That might have to be your job for a while.”
“You’ll get used to it.”
Milly gets Tobias to halt and change direction. The bloody horse walks, trots, then canters on command, halts, changes direction and then does it all again.
After ten minutes, Milly stops working with Tobias. She comes over and hands the lunge line to me and takes Karim’s.
“Hose down Tobias and put him in his box, then I’ll show you what you should have done with Karim.”
By the time I get to the paddock, Milly has Karim working as well as Tobias had been. She makes it look easy.
“You take over.” She hands me the whip and line, gives instructions, and I follow them. Okay, not too different to what we do with the racehorses. Karim seems to be doing all right now.
After another ten minutes work, we hose off the sweating horse and put him away too, then walk back to the house together.
Milly opens the back door. “You’ll catch on. By the end, you almost had it right.”
I can feel a few eyes on us. Nobody else gets invited back to the house after working a horse. I’ll hear about this later. No way Ewan and Gary will let this pass without comment.
Milly goes into the house. “Karim knows what he’s doing anyway, he’ll teach you. I think tomorrow we’ll try them in the arena.
Inside, Tom has just made coffee. “How did the first training go?”
“Good.” Milly gets three mugs out of the cupboard then sits down at the breakfast bar.
Tom pours the coffee into the mugs. “Ready to start the new job, Cole?” He slides a mug across to Milly
“Yeah, but I’m not too sure what it involves.” As far as I can see, Tom deals with all the training and racing side of things, and Fred manages the stables. “What will I do?”
Milly cradles her mug, blowing on the steaming coffee. “You’ll be Dad’s assistant instead of Fred’s.”
Tom nods. “That’s about it.”
“Okay.” Tom has the reputation that he knows when to bring horses on, and when they are ready to race that’s why the owners trust him. I don’t have any of that credibility. I don’t even have a trainer’s licence.
Tom relaxes back into his barstool. “Your job will be to liaise with the owners and free me up so I can concentrate on training the horses.”
“Liaise?” I’ve seen Tom with the owners and he has them eating out of his hand. But he’s been a successful trainer for a long time. The stable produces fifty to sixty winners each year.
“Talk to the owners. Keep them updated about what we’ve got planned, and report on training and progress. Send them photos of their horses. It will be your job to keep them in the loop.”
“Won’t they want to talk to you?”
