The Varlet and the Voyeur

  And what I wanted was to taste her.

  I swallowed as saliva flooded my mouth, urging her into a new position. I thought I spotted a shadow of disappointment cross over her face, but I couldn’t seem to be distracted from my present course.

  When she was on her back, lying before me, her arms at her sides, I licked my lips and lowered to my knees.

  She made a small noise that sounded like surprise, and I glanced at her. Her eyes were wide and astonished, and she was looking at me like I was very strange.

  I began lowering my head and she caught me by the hair. “Wait. Wait, wait, wait. What are you doing?”

  “Let go.” I turned my head as much as I was able and gave the inside of her thigh a sucking kiss.

  She gasped. “Are you . . . are you going to—”

  “You said to do what I want, and I want to kiss you here.” I traced the pad of my index finger along the inside of her leg to her clitoris, rubbing a slow circle around it and opening her completely to my eyes.

  She gasped again. “Oh. Okay.” Her fingers lessened their grip momentarily, but then tightened again before I could move. “It’s just that, I’ve never done that before.”

  I lifted my gaze from her body and met hers. She looked panicked.

  Sobered, I confessed, “I haven’t either.”

  Her panic did not abate. In fact, my confession only seemed to intensify her disquiet.

  “You—you don’t want me to?” I asked.

  “It’s not that, it’s—it’s just that—I mean, I’ve never . . .” She frowned, and then cleared her throat before saying, “Wouldn’t you rather just have sex?” Even now, lying naked in front of me, apparently without shame, she whispered the word sex.

  I breathed out, felt her shiver, and watched as a wave of goosebumps rose on her leg and stomach. Gazing at her, at the delectable expanse of bare skin, I realized that I was still fully clothed. Something about this, the difference in our situations—her brazen nudity, her legs spread wide, my kneeling before her fully dressed—filled me with a needful, thrashing possessiveness.

  I licked my lips, turning my head to press a wet kiss to her other thigh, and whispered, “This is what I want.”

  Threading my fingers through hers, I removed them from my hair while trailing my tongue along the line of her adductor tendon. Moving our clasped hands to either side of her waist, I finally lowered my head all the way.

  “Will.” My name was a strangled plea.

  I licked her opening and groaned, tightening my grip on her hands before letting her go and wrapping my arms around her legs, roughly positioning her, bringing her knees up to give me better access.

  She didn’t taste good, not like food. No honey or strawberries or peaches, none of that.

  She tasted divine, like salt and heat and the realization of illicit fantasies. A little dirty. A little tangy. A little sweet.

  Sweeping my tongue out again, I gave her another savoring lick, then another. Then I sucked on her sensitive skin, using my lips and teeth to kiss and nibble. All the while she made these mindless noises, sounds of despair and elation.

  Fuck me, I never wanted to stop.

  Josey tilted her pelvis, a reflexive movement, and my hips jerked in response.

  “Will,” she said, like she was in crisis.

  I slipped a finger inside her and she gasped, her hips rolling in rhythm to my invasion. “Oh god, oh fuck, don’t stop!”

  I didn’t. And she came. Loudly.

  Josey screamed her climax and I opened my eyes to watch her. Fingers twisted into the bedspread at her sides, her knuckles white, her body arched, and then bowed as her interior muscles trembled.

  So fucking sexy.

  “I need—” she gasped, her hands lifting as though she were going to grab my hair again, to stop me.

  Reluctantly, I lifted my head, evading her grasping hands.

  Her breaths were labored, like she’d just run several miles. She looked tired, exhausted, spent, satisfied.

  But I wasn’t.

  Standing, I gazed down at her, at her drowsy eyes, her soft curves, her full breasts, and I unzipped my pants.

  The sound had her looking at me, her stare growing wide as it dropped from mine to where I was pushing down my boxers. Josey took an unsteady breath, lifting to her elbows, a question behind her gaze and on the tip of her tongue.

  I didn’t want to talk.

  I wanted inside her.

  I was close to mad with it, with the need.

  Before she could speak, I wrapped my hand around her knee and pulled her closer, down the length of the bed.

  “Will,” she whispered, falling back to the mattress, her hands searching for purchase.

  Placing one knee on the bed, I grabbed her hips, lifted her pelvis, and with one thrust, buried myself as far as her body would allow. And again, it was everything, she was everything, she was hot and slick, silk heaven. I couldn’t think. Everything was in fragments.

  More.

  Josey gasped, closing her eyes, and then moaned, a long, low, keening sound. A raw sound, wild, mindless.

  Deeper.

  I moved, pistoning my hips, pushing deeper, spreading her wider. She made a sound like a little cry, bowing towards me.

  Open your eyes.

  I must’ve spoken the words, because she opened her eyes, a shock of blue, heated and frenzied. Her lips were parted and her gaze dropped to my mouth.

  Lowering her hips, I leaned forward above her, grasping her hands and holding them down on the bed on either side of her face, all the while invading her body deliberately, giving her slow strokes, rolling my hips in rhythm with hers.

  She was perfect, so perfect. Open and vulnerable. I wanted to last, but I knew I couldn’t, not much longer. I’d been thinking, dreaming about this for weeks, and being inside her, claiming her body was better—so much better—than I’d imagined.

  Her eyes were wide with some emotion I couldn’t read because I was almost there. And her lips were right there, just beneath mine, the color of red grapes, of ripe plums.

  “Will,” she whispered. “Oh god, Will!” She panted, moaned, panted again, and she was coming. Instinctively, my tempo increased in response, and her climax went on and on. Stars burst behind my eyes, a shock of electricity at the base of my spine, a freefall into her arms. I knew my movements were inelegant, clumsy, but I had no control to spare.

  I had no thought of rules or boundaries, just of Josey. Rightness, bone-deep satisfaction as I lay on her, our bodies still joined. Maybe it was madness, but a visceral sense of belonging warmed me, feverish in its intensity. Not just that I belonged with her—here, now—but that I belonged to her, with no limitations on place and time.

  Gathering her in my arms, I rolled to my side, holding her close, my lips at her neck.

  Josey sighed, a replete sound that made me smile.

  Leaning away—just far enough to gaze into the blue of her eyes—I felt my smile grow.

  “Hello,” I said, thinking that I must’ve been crazy when we first met to have believed her anything other than stunningly beautiful. Yes, crazy and stupid and blind and wholly wrong.

  “Hello.” Her gaze and answering smile were warm. She stretched, and I swallowed a resurgence of lust. “And how are things with you, William?”

  “Great.” I felt my grin spread as my stare dropped to her mouth, my hold on her body relaxing.

  Will she kiss me now?

  Neither Josey nor I said anything for a long moment, her breathing slowed, as did mine. But my heart didn’t. It galloped on, all my intent and focus on her mouth.

  I’d just had her, I’d just kissed her everywhere but here, I’d just taken her body, claimed every part of it, except here.

  And I wanted it.

  I tilted my chin.

  Her breath caught.

  I lifted my eyes to hers.

  Before I could capture her gaze, she pushed against me, twisting and escaping from my lax hold.

/>   “Well,” she said, scooting to the end of the bed.

  I felt the loss of her, of her heat and skin, at once. Impulsively, I reached for her. But she just laughed, standing from the bed and evading my hands.

  “Nice try, but you’re still not getting any of my cake,” she said, bending to retrieve the forgotten plate from the bedside table and strolling out of the room.

  I stared at the glorious sight of her departing back until it disappeared from view. And then I blinked at nothing, because I was so fucking confused.

  She left?

  After that?

  How—

  “Your breakfast is getting cold!” Josey bellowed from the other room, breaking me out of my stupor. “Come eat something that’s not my cake or my vagina.”

  Fifteen

  @JoseyInHeels: When I retire, I’m going to become a muffin-walloper #forgottenwordoftheday #aspirationallifestyles

  @THEBryanLeech to @JoseyInHeels: I’ve left my muffin-walloper days behind me ????

  @JoseyInHeels to @THEBryanLeech: I didn’t realize you were once a Victorian widow who spent her days gossiping and eating cake #youlearnsomethingneweveryday

  JOSEY

  I slept like the dead for half the day and through the night.

  Having been awake for over twenty-four hours, I conked out on the luxurious hotel mattress as soon as my head hit the pillow. I’d been so exhausted I didn’t even have the energy to relive the mind-blowing sex with Will. And that was saying something, because a well-rested Josey would’ve been up half the night remembering the exquisite feel of his tongue, hands, and body. The pure, unrivaled masculinity of his face when he entered me, and when he came.

  As I blinked awake, the full force of it hit me.

  I had sex with Will.

  Not just sex. I had the best sex of my life with Will. Maybe the best sex of anyone’s life.

  My body felt sore in a way it hadn’t for ages, and my muscles were deliciously achy. I stretched out in bed, running my hands along the cool sheets as a slim ray of sunshine filtered in through the curtains. Feeling excited for the day ahead, I got up and picked through my clothes. I chose a bright yellow, flower print sundress and some ballet flats.

  Once I was dressed and showered, I went out into the lounge. I was shy yet eager to see him. I found Will sitting by the large open window, sipping coffee and eating breakfast, the morning light streaming through his brown hair.

  Damn. He really was a sight to behold.

  He wore sports gear, a fitted T-shirt and workout pants. There was something incredibly attractive about how they showcased the toned, sleek lines of his body, the athletic way he held himself.

  “Good morning,” I said, my voice quiet.

  Will looked up, stood from his chair, and smiled at me. My breath caught. This new atmosphere between us was a heady sensation. Our eyes met and just like that, my nipples hardened. Memories of yesterday filtered through my head, the details in high focus. I squeezed my thighs together and tried to act normal.

  “Morning,” Will replied, his eyes on mine. “I ordered breakfast if you’re hungry.”

  “Starved,” I said, uncharacteristically lost for words. I took a seat across from him, noticing he waited until I sat before reclaiming his chair.

  Will’s gaze travelled down my body and then back up. “You’re beautiful.”

  I tucked non-existent hair behind my ears. “Thank you.”

  Why was my voice so breathy?

  “I like your hair,” he went on. “I like your hair like that.”

  I fingered my hastily styled French braid. “I like your…T-shirt.”

  His mouth twitched as he lifted his mug and drank some coffee. “I have training this morning.”

  I ignored a pang of disappointment at this news. “Oh, well, I was thinking I would—”

  “Will you co—go with me?” He leaned a little forward in his chair, his hand coming to rest on the table halfway between us.

  “Uh,” I blinked at him. YES! “Sure.”

  He stared at me for a beat, and then added, “Then there’s a press conference this afternoon.”

  “A press conference?” I frowned, worrying my lip. “Will you be, um, asked questions about the stories in the tabloids?”

  His lips formed a frustrated slant. I picked up a slice of melon and bit into it. “There’s a chance, yes. Coach thinks it’s a good opportunity for me to give my side of the story.”

  “Your side?”

  Will exhaled a gruff breath. “I’m supposed to tell them that I regret my behavior, but that I never hired prostitutes. That I’m working on recovery.”

  I frowned. “Recovery implies an addiction. You weren’t addicted. You just liked it. There’s a difference.”

  “Yes, but—according to Annie—when it comes to the press you have to pander a little. They don’t want the real truth. They want some version of it that’ll sell the most papers.” He looked and sounded bitter as he said this, glaring at his coffee cup. “If I didn’t have to consider the team’s image I’d tell them all where to shove it.”

  I smirked. “Why Mr. Moore, I do believe I’m rubbing off on you.”

  He smirked, his gorgeous eyes twinkling, and picked up a slice of toast.

  We ate in quiet and I studied him from across the table. He was such a good, honorable person. He didn’t deserve to be slandered, let alone answer questions about it. Instinctively, I reached out to squeeze his hand that laid on the table. He glanced to where I touched him, looking surprised by my sudden affection, his gaze heating as it lifted to mine.

  Without speaking, he turned his hand and linked our fingers together. A zing of electricity ran through me when his palm met mine. Our eyes held.

  “Thank you,” he said.

  “For what?” Seriously, what is with me and the breathy voice this morning?

  “You’re a good person, Josey.” His voice was low, sincere. It hit me right in the pit of my stomach.

  “So are you.”

  His eyes got a little sad, and I wondered about it. Did he not realize how good he was? Will was the sort of person who did favors without expecting anything in return. He was the sort of person who was there for his friends when they needed him. I witnessed it with Bryan and Eilish, and even with me to a certain extent. When he cooked dinner, he always made enough for two. If he went out for a walk, he brought Rocky along with him because he knew I had to study some days and didn’t have the time.

  Dammit, there went my emotions again, trying to get themselves involved.

  I pushed them away into a far-off, dark corner, and tried not to let myself feel too mushy by the way Will was looking at me, and mostly succeeded.

  Later that morning, I sat on the sidelines while the rest of the team warmed up out on the pitch. They had the first of three test matches in a few days and I was looking forward to it. I’d attended a few back home with Eilish and there was always an electric atmosphere.

  I tried to focus on the textbook on my lap, Veterinary Parasitology, but my gaze kept wandering back to the pitch. Will ran laps back and forth with Bryan, Ronan, and several other members of the team. I admired his athleticism, the muscle tone in his legs and thighs, and the sexy, serious expression on his face as he concentrated on his warm-up.

  Maybe later, I could order something from room service with whipped cream, convince him to let me tie him up and—

  My phone rang, interrupting my naughty stream of thought. Eilish’s name showed on the screen as I answered, “Greetings from the land of Oz!”

  She laughed. “You sound happy. I take it you managed to sleep off the jet lag.”

  “You know me. Out like a light as soon as I crawl into bed. I think I slept for fifteen hours straight last night.”

  “Wow, I’m jealous. Patrick woke me up at 2:00 a.m. He’s been sad because he misses his daddy. I had to let him sleep in bed with me.”

  “Aww, I bet Bryan misses him, too.”

  “He does. He??
?s been sending text messages nonstop to check in on us. Speaking of my baby daddy, I’m trusting you to keep all those rugby groupies away from him.”

  “Wouldn’t it be some form of betrayal for them to hook up with a player from the opposing team? Then again, forbidden fruit is always the sweetest,” I teased.

  “Josey! You are not putting my mind at ease right now.”

  “Oh, come on, Bryan’s besotted with you. He doesn’t even look at other women.”

  “Yeah, yeah. Anyway, how’s everything with you?”

  “I’m great. Better than great.” I lowered my voice. “Will went down on me last night and it was incredible. I’m all, cunnilingus, where have you been all my life?”

  Eilish gasped and then giggled as I belatedly realized there was an assistant sitting a few rows away. By the look on her face, she heard every word despite me speaking quietly.

  “You two got straight down to business then, huh?”

  “Oh yeah. I’m making the most of this trip, for my vagina’s sake if nothing else. She deserves it.”

  Eilish laughed some more while the assistant shot me another dirty look, stood up, and went to sit somewhere further away. Maybe her vagina needed some hot rugby player cunnilingus? But really, whose didn’t?

  Eilish and I chatted for a while, but then it was time for her to go.

  “Well, I’m glad to hear it’s all going so great for you over there. I’ve got to go put Patrick to bed but I’ll call again in a couple of days.”

  “Cool! Talk to you then. Say hello to the little guy for me.”

  We hung up and I endeavored to read to the end of the current chapter in my textbook before I allowed myself another peek at Will. Come on, self-control, you can do this. I didn’t entirely succeed, but I did manage to get to the end of the chapter. It might’ve taken me twice as long, but I got there.

  When it was time for the press conference, I stood at the back of the room, sipping on an iced latte. It was way too warm for hot coffee. The place started to fill up with journalists and I listened in to a conversation between the man and woman in front of me.

  “I can’t believe I didn’t know about this, and he’s going to be here today on the panel?” the woman asked.