Freefalling Read online

  FREEFALLING

  An erotic novella by Zara Stoneley

  Published by Accent Press Ltd – 2012

  ISBN 9781909335097

  Copyright © Zara Stoneley 2012

  The right of Zara Stoneley to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

  The story contained within this book is a work of fiction. Names and characters are the product of the author’s imagination and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be copied, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, electrostatic, magnetic tape, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the written permission of the publishers: Xcite Books, Suite 11769, 2nd Floor, 145-157 St John Street, London EC1V 4PY

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  Chapter One

  The warmth of his hand spiralled through her body, sending a buzz of expectancy to every nerve ending as she held her breath, not daring to move, not daring to murmur; just letting the sensual strokes from hip to knee stir the want deep inside her.

  Hayley Tring loved this moment between sleep and wakefulness, when the dream was real, when she could feel it, savour it, her whole body floating effortlessly along poised on the edge of orgasm. When sensuality took over from the harsh reality of urgency and want, and time seemed to be suspended.

  A sigh escaped her body and she shifted her hips slightly, anticipating the heat of his hand drifting up between her thighs, of his knowing fingers …

  ‘Hey, sleeping beauty, I knew you’d wake eventually.’

  Shit. Every iota of dreamy want shot straight from her body as she went from slumber to wide awake. That “eyes-wide-open” kind of wide awake. And all she could see was a broad chest with a sprinkle of damp, curly hairs. A broad chest that smelled of male, of sweat, of sex; a broad chest that she was close enough to taste. All she had to do was open her mouth, reach out with the tip of her tongue …

  Or there again maybe not, because it wasn’t a wonderful dream – every mind-blowing memory of last night flooded back with crystal clarity. It was reality, going under the name of Tom.

  Hayley groaned inwardly. Tom, maybe not the most gorgeous man she had ever set eyes on, but definitely a man she hadn’t been able to take her eyes off. A man she had undressed with her mind a million times before he’d introduced himself, which was probably why her brain had assigned him dream status. She knew what moth to the flame meant now. And it was the wrong time to get burnt, so completely and utterly the wrong time. Which was why he shouldn’t be here now, however knee-tremblingly gorgeous he was. Why she should have said no. And why, once she worked out how to speak again, she had to tell him to go.

  Oh God. She froze a bit more, if that was possible. It wasn’t just that she had her hand on him, she was practically hanging on. And her leg was wrapped round his long, hard thigh in a loving death grip. Shit. And what made him 100 per cent, no room for doubt, flesh and blood real was the twitching erection that seemed to be growing by the second, nudging against her crotch. Which could be partly because she’d been rubbing against him like some sex-starved nympho when she’d thought he was her imaginary friend from the land of nod. And could be partly, oh hell, because of the way she’d begged him for more last night. When she’d let excitement and need take over from common sense. Please, if there’s a God, let the ground open up and swallow me whole.

  Shit. She wanted to move, and not in a seductive way, but how the hell did she do that without disturbing him, without making it all even more real? And awkward.

  His chuckle reverberated through her. ‘Something we did must have worn you out.’ She could feel the gentle tug, a tug of tingling awareness that was running over her scalp, trickling through her body as he twirled a lock of her hair round his finger. The heat of his other hand on her hip completed the glowing circle of need he was creating in her body. ‘How about I make us a nice fry-up, Miss Sexy?’

  ‘No.’ She hadn’t meant to shout, it just came out. But at least she’d remembered how to speak. She ran her tongue over suddenly dry lips.

  ‘No? You don’t do fry-ups?’

  ‘No. I mean, yes, I mean, I do fry-ups but I’ve got work to do. Lots of work.’ Which was almost true. ‘Sorry.’ Trying to wriggle away didn’t seem like a good idea; maybe a quick leap was the answer before her body decided it had its own agenda and her best intentions leapt out of the window. Again.

  ‘Jug of coffee, then?’

  ‘No.’ Yes. Boy, she could kill for a good, strong shot of uncomplicated caffeine; it might even straighten her befuddled brain out and answer a few questions. Like why she had a man in her bed the day after she’d sworn to herself she was a male-free zone until she’d got her current commissions finished. Until she knew she could trust herself not to wreck her one big chance.

  ‘That’s a shame.’ The deep, sure voice hit a spot deep inside her, and partly answered the question; it was a chocolate-coated promise of satisfaction. Warm, melting, smooth … For heaven’s sake, Hayley, get a grip, girl.

  ‘Because it was fun.’ His finger traced a lazy circle round her nipple. Nooo. A new ripple of awareness spread out across her breast and started to shimmy its way down her stomach. Maybe if she crossed her legs she could stop it going any further. If it wasn’t already too late.

  ‘It was lots of fun.’ The warmth of his breath ruffled into her hair, sending another wave of something nice, a double assault. But she’d promised herself. Not now, not right now, she really, really mustn’t let herself. One night-stand, fine; well, almost fine, apart from the fact that she didn’t do one-night stands and didn’t know what was supposed to come next. But whatever it was, it didn’t include a fry-up, she was fairly sure about that.

  Cosy shared breakfast just had to be wrong, had to be asking for trouble. To be avoided. At all costs. Because she just knew the way she’d reacted to him last night meant that it would be far too easy to want more. Or he wouldn’t be in her bed now, looking like he belonged there and intended to stay for a repeat performance.

  She bit down hard on her bottom lip as he rolled her onto her back and the warmth spread between her thighs. No, no, no. A wave of heat shimmied up her inner body as his palm moved from her knee, stroking its way effortlessly higher, and she was dimly aware of her legs parting wider. She could say no, she should say no. She should scream stop.

  His fingers fluttered over her swollen labia and her whole body seemed to sigh and open up that bit wider. She couldn’t help it; she just didn’t want to say stop. A firm finger slid smoothly into her damp pussy, sending an urgent zing to her brain. A zing that had everything to do with parting her thighs further and absolutely nothing at all to do with being sensible.

  ‘We shouldn’t.’

  ‘Shh. You are just so incredibly gorgeous, you know.’ His thumb flicked over her hardening nipple. She had to get out of this, but she couldn’t move and she didn’t want to. His other thumb drifted lazily over her clit and strong, broad fingers dipped deeper into her slick channel.

  She moaned; she knew it had to be her who was making that low sound, and he shifted, moving his arm out from under her, propping himself up so that he could look down, his fingers never leaving her.

  It was a cruel dream. Tawny eyes, flecked with gold, were looking at her like she was the centre of the universe; an intense look that sent a new wave of juices between her thighs. And he was curling his fingers, rubbing her G-spot with the type of pressure that was just about to make her forget who she was.

  He dipped his head, gold eyes still watching h
er as his tongue snaked a hot path round her breast. His lips took her nipple and slowly drew her into his mouth in a way that sent a flash of flame straight to her pussy.

  Oh boy, that was hitting the spot. ‘Oh God, please don’t stop.’

  ‘Don’t worry, I don’t intend to, but I can’t talk with my mouth full.’ A wicked smile flooded his face and then he sucked her slowly back in as his tongue flicked over her sensitised flesh. His eyes darkened as he sucked harder until the pleasure bordered on pain and her clit started to throb. She gasped, and he knew. His thumb rolled over her swollen nub again, and she automatically tipped her pelvis, circling to follow the motion of his hand, to intensify the pressure until it hit a point where she was sure she couldn’t bear any more.

  ‘I didn’t think men could multi-task.’ Christ, that was good.

  ‘Only when it matters.’ His warm tongue traced a path from her breast down her stomach, dipped into her navel. He was sucking and teasing at the soft flesh of her stomach, creating a whole new wave of sensation, and she clutched at his hair, winding her fingers in deep as the play of his tongue and lips seemed to blend in with the fingers that were strumming deep inside her pussy. She shut her eyes.

  ‘Open your eyes, Hayley, I want to see you come, but don’t you dare come yet.’

  It was the last bit that made her tighten, the rough-edged command. How the hell did that work? She’d spent all her life willing her orgasms closer and now he was telling her not to. Which was what did it. That and the sudden pinch of his finger and thumb on her swollen clit, and the glow of lust in his come-to-bed eyes that seemed to know her better than they should.

  She was coming, pulsing round his fingers with a force that was rocking right through her body, and all she could do was press down harder against him, open her thighs even wider so that she could feel him deeper.

  ‘Naughty girl.’ His fingers curled inside her, sending a fresh ripple through her body. ‘I’m going to have to punish you for that.’ He slid further down the bed and his mouth was on her, sucking hard on a clit that was close to burning up.

  ‘No, no, Tom.’ It was pain, it was agony, it was bliss. She dug her nails into his shoulders and he roughly pulled her tighter against his face, fingers hard against her hips as he lapped at her swollen slit. She couldn’t have moved if she wanted to, except she didn’t want to. She wanted to moan, to scream, to beg. He lifted her hips, his fingers digging into her bum as his tongue probed deeper, his teeth teasing her swollen nub, and she didn’t know if her orgasm had finished and she was coming again or it had never really ended.

  He seemed to have all of her in his mouth, his tongue deep, his teeth closing over her mound as he sucked. She bucked against him, shaking in his strong grip as he held her firm, sucking and licking, never stopping until every last tremble has been drawn out of her and she lay in a panting mess.

  Then he blew a raspberry on her trembling stomach. ‘Shower time, gorgeous.’

  Shit. So much for being sensible.

  ‘I can’t.’ The too-hot coffee scalded her mouth and set her eyes watering.

  ‘You can’t?’ He tipped his head to one side, narrowing the tiger eyes. ‘Or you don’t want to?’

  ‘I can’t.’ Why wasn’t she the type of girl who could just say no? It was fun but “bye” would have done just fine. ‘I’m sorry, I don’t usually … I mean I don’t normally … Just …’

  ‘Throw a man out?’

  Fuck, he was making this difficult. ‘Sleep with someone like that.’ He was making her feel so bad. ‘Rush into things.’

  ‘Oh, so it’s the rushing that bothers you?’

  Oh, it wasn’t the rushing; it was the needing that bothered her. ‘I can’t see you again. I promised.’ The needing, and the memory of the tears on her face as he’d made her come last night, the gentleness as he’d kissed them away and then wrapped her in his arms.

  ‘You promised? He gave a short, barking laugh. ‘I’m suggesting dinner, Hayley, not a Vegas wedding.’

  ‘I promised.’

  ‘How can you promise someone you won’t see me again when you didn’t know this would happen?’ He waved a hand in the direction of the bedroom and heat rushed to her face. ‘Unless I’m part of some well-choreographed act?’

  ‘Good God, no. You don’t really think I planned all this and …’

  ‘Not really, no. Well, I’d hope I’m not that much of a pushover.’ The gruff laugh made her feel guilty.

  ‘I didn’t mean you specifically.’

  ‘Oh great, you’re telling me I’m one of many now.’

  ‘Shut up, you know I didn’t mean that.’ He didn’t, he couldn’t.

  ‘Do I?’

  He did. She was making herself sound like some slut. This wasn’t going well, worse than she thought it would. ‘What I’m trying to say is …’ What was she trying to say, exactly? ‘I didn’t promise I wouldn’t see you again, I meant anyone. Men.’

  ‘Men? What is this, some kind of weird vow of chastity in reverse where you can actually have sex, but not date?’

  ‘Don’t be stupid.’

  ‘I don’t think I’m the one who’s being a bit strange here.’

  She scowled at him, which just made him give her an even weirder look. ‘Look, I’m sorry, last night shouldn’t have happened.’

  ‘But it did. And can you honestly say you didn’t enjoy it?’

  She’d ignore that. ‘I promised myself I wouldn’t get involved with anyone – I can’t, not just now. My work has to be the important thing, I paint and …’

  ‘I know you paint.’

  She coloured what she reckoned must be an even deeper shade of embarrassment judging from the way she was burning up. Of course he knew. He’d been at the exhibition last night, which was where they’d met. She closed her eyes. Being invited to show at the prestigious gallery had been a dream come true and it had got even better. The paintings had been selling, the red stickers sending a thrill through her that felt as good as sex. That made her want sex. Her whole body had been buzzing on some adrenalin high with no way down. Then Mark had whispered in her ear that she had a commission, a big commission, a benefactor whose sponsorship could set her up for life. Which made her want to squeal. And the bubbles from just one glass of champagne had ricocheted through her blood straight to her clit. A clit that had gone into overdrive when she’d been introduced to him.

  Mark had wisely given her a moment to get over the squealing, bouncing madness before he’d introduced her to the man who had just set her one step closer to success, the beaming Simon who had been knowledgeable, fun and flirty. And then there had been Tom, Tom his associate, Tom who had eyes that seemed to explore her mind and who had gently curved lips that she wanted to feel exploring her body.

  She’d been on her way to the ladies’, not quite sure if she had the nerve to shut herself in a cubicle and relieve the pressure, when she’d bumped into him again. Literally. A solid wall of muscle clad in designer jeans and open-necked shirt. And she’d kissed him, because he was gorgeous, and because she was horny, and excited, and hot, and buzzing. Which would have been fine if he hadn’t taken control and kissed her right back.

  He’d pushed her back against the cold, hard wall, trapped her with the heat of his body, and the contrast of hot and cold had heightened every rampant need in her. The moment he ran his tongue along her lips she’d opened her mouth, desperate to taste him, desperate to feel the strength of his tongue inside her.

  She swallowed and opened her eyes. He was studying her still. Crap. ‘Of course you know.’

  He’d rubbed his hand over her breast as he’d kissed her and the heat had gone straight through her clothes, seeped through her skin and into her bloodstream. She’d rubbed her hips against him, his hard cock nestled between them, rubbing against her slit as though it was meant to be there. “I bet you fuck just like you paint.” He’d said that just as she’d wrapped her leg around his waist, just before he’d slipped his hand up betwee
n her hot thighs. “Hot, passionate, alive.” And he’d whispered that against her neck as his fingered the damp lace crotch of her panties. “Free.” He’d said that just as his fingers had slipped inside her, and she’d thrown her head back and come, hard, the orgasm ripping through her, leaving her panting and desperate for more. So she’d grabbed hold of his shirt and tugged him close for another kiss.

  Even though he’d hit the nail on the head when he’d said that. Free. She needed to be free. Or she might as well just give up now, and give up on all the hopes and dreams that rolled around the mysterious benefactor he’d been with. The one who could change her life.

  ‘I paint and …’ She looked straight into the tawny eyes; they were steady, warm, flecked with a feline energy she would have liked to see bubble to the surface, ignite, spread in a molten pool around her. ‘That new commission I got with your friend last night is important to me.’ Really important, I can’t let anyone distract me this time, not again. She was almost whispering, almost sorry, which was stupid. And she was dying to reach out and finger the front of his shirt. Which was even more stupid.

  ‘I’m sure it is.’ His warm hands came down and rested gently on her shoulders. Holding her. But she didn’t want to be held. ‘But that doesn’t stop me taking you out just once, does it?’

  Maybe not normally, but it’s not in my psyche to sleep with someone unless some small corner of my heart has whispered that it could be for ever and I can’t play the “maybe for ever” game right now. ‘What’s the point in one date? Look I’m sorry, last night was fun, but that’s all it was.’ She shrugged, and tried to ignore the way his fingers had tightened on her shoulders and a tiny voice in her head was screaming “liar”. ‘Can’t we just say goodbye like grown-ups?’ Because I can’t paint and make promises, I just can’t. I can’t. She forced herself to take a half step back, even though her body was saying it was the wrong direction.

  ‘That could be a problem.’