Page 93 of Rafferty's Rules
Jesus.
Fuck... this is... too much.
She’s so small under me.
So tight.
So fucking perfect.
I pull back, slide in, beginning to build an easy rhythm. Long, slow slides followed by rapid, greedy punches of my hips. I swallow her hoarse sounds, sucking on her tongue, pressing my teeth against her neck.
‘It’s so good.’
Did she say that or was it me?
The sheets rustle under us, the slick sounds of our lovemaking overlaid by rasps of encouragement, the sighs and moans of our pleasure. Nothing else matters, and nothing else is heard. Not the birds outside. Not the rest of the word. There’s just this. Us. Until I can take it no more, until she’s scoring her nails down my back and begging meplease, please, please.
I let loose then, fucking her hard and fast in response to the beat of her insides.
Is this what making love is? I wonder, pushing up onto my palms to watch where I move inside her, to watch as she arches her body, seeking the relief of me?
A wild thrill courses through my veins and I close my eyes revelling in the sheer bliss of it. The rhythm of her pussy around me, the sound of her taut cries, and as scores her teeth against my skin, I know things will never be the same again.
Chapter 28
ALYSSA
‘Hey, Amber, what’s worse than finding out your parents are swingers? Coming upon them at a party.’
‘Ew, gross.’ There’s no anger in Amber’s response. She also doesn’t look very impressed.
‘Tom,’ Sally warns in a censorious tone. ‘This is a family party. If you can’t behave, I’ll have to kick your backside out.’
‘Sorry, Sally. I’m just playing. Amber knows I don’t mean it.’
‘Anymore taking the piss, and you’ll be out on your ear.’ This from Byron in a very languid tone, but no less obvious in his seriousness.Phillips boys and their fiery blue gazes.
‘Who did you say this guy is?’ I whisper as Rafferty leans over to pick up his wine glass. We’re outside after dinner, sitting by the pool of the main house, which is as opulent as a five-star hotel.Just scaled down to domestic size. There’s a huge lap, a pool house offering several seating arrangements, including a dining setting, and an outdoor kitchen that would put Rafferty’s to shame. There are even a pool table and an outside fireplace for cool evenings, and an outdoor shower that’s bigger and better than the one in my apartment. And the view? Well, it’s dark now, so there’s not a lot to see, but the backdrop to the house is a green-blue mountain range that’s pretty spectacular, especially at twilight. As the sun dipped behind the mountain range, setting the peaks in stark relief, its glow washed the sky in a golden haze. Birds in the trees nearby took to the air before settling on the perch for the night, the sounds of a dozen choruses filling the early evening air.
‘Tom,’ Rafferty murmurs in answer. ‘He and Byron go way back. He’s actually the principal of the local school and a pretty decent bloke. He’s just being an arsehole because he’s had too much of this.’ He glances pointedly at his own glass before taking a sip.’
Did I mention the wine made here is heavenly? The glass I’m currently enjoying is cool and crisp. And what’s more, there’s a lot of it. Wines to be paired with courses, each offering something else for the palette. Though I notice Amber refuses to move from her favourite Semillon, and no one wine shames her for it. I’m pleased to report there’s no wine snobbery here. Or if there is, they’re hiding it pretty darn well.
‘How the wedding planning going, Amber?’ As Tom picks up his glass, the liquid sloshes over the rim. ‘Fuck.’ His head comes up, his apologetic gaze on Sally again. ‘Sorry, Sal.’
She harrumphs. ‘It’s a good job the kids are in bed is all I can say. What’s gotten into you tonight?’
‘Yeah, mate,’ Roman adds. ‘What crawled up your arse and died?’
Releasing a heavy breath, Tom sits forward, rubbing a hand over his face. ‘Christ, where do I begin?’
‘The beginning is usually the best place to start,’ Sally returns in her no-nonsense tone. ‘But I warn you, if this is going to turn into some filthy story, you’ll be—’
‘Sally, please.’ Leaning back in his chair, Tom seems to deflate. ‘Credit me with some decorum. I can see there are ladies present.’ I don’t particularly care for how his gaze falls to me at the end of his statement. ‘Besides, I need distracting, not reminding. So, if it’s all the same with you lot, I’ll ignore that misery loves company.’
‘And in this instance, misery is you, mate, is it?’ Byron looks unimpressed.
‘Well, it’s not you, sitting in your perfect ivory wedding tower.’ At this point, Tom quite pointedly turns the conversation to Byron’s intended.
