Stories for When the Sun Goes Down (Sexy Anthology) Read Online Free Page A

squeeze
between my teeth.
     My attempt at howling turns to a squeak and he shifts
his hand to brace harder against the door. “Oh, fuck… fucking hell…” he blurts
out. “Fucking good… good… good, God.” His eyes screw up and his features twist
in ecstasy as he too explodes. I feel him blasting out the powerful
contractions of his almighty orgasm, shunting upwards, impaling me against the
door. He holds me exactly where he wants me and goes on and on with his
pleasure rollercoaster.
    “Bloody hell…” he says, a final shudder snaking down his
spine and his eyes blinking open to the harsh light of the room.
    I match his shiver and feel boneless as he continues to
hold me. “That was…” I struggle for the right words to describe our explosive
reunion. “Amazing, Prime Minister.”
     He grins and the dimples I adore sink deep. “Glad to be
of service, Madam President.”
    I would love to curl up in his embrace now. Slide down to
the floor, pull up a cushion and a blanket. Have a light doze and then do it
all over again in a lazy, meandering way. Indulge in some serious foreplay, him
on me this time. But we can’t. We have to get back to reality. We have to get
back to the sensible world of global politics to which we hold the keys.
    He pulls out and supports me while I unhook my ankles and
lower my legs. His hair is sticking up at the back and as he
fiddles with his belt I smooth it flat, then grab a Kleenex and wipe away the
semen seeping down my leg.
    “Your present,” he says, pulling the egg
by its tiny string from his jacket pocket. “A little extra persuasion for when
we review that environmental policy.” He holds the egg to his lips, kisses it
and then with long, skilled fingers slides it into my vagina. I spread my legs
and wriggle as he pushes it deeper, so deep it becomes lodged and settles into
position. It’s cold and rigid against my swollen, super-sensitive flesh, but it
feels soothing and reminds me of having him there. I like it, welcome it.
    He pulls his moist fingers from me and
then holds up a pink remote control. “This is going to be so much fun.” He
winks and licks his lips. “Can I order more tea?”
    “Sure.” I smile, excited at the thought of
John holding the controls to my pleasure, plus his need for a cup of tea after
sex has always amused me. It’s so very English of him.
    “I’ll give you a second to straighten up.” He reaches for
the lock on the door, slides it free then tucks the remote back into his inside
jacket pocket. “See you in a minute.”
    He slips out and I pull up my panties and
tug down my skirt. My insides are still trembling. I can still feel him
right there doing his stuff and the egg is only enhancing that memory.
    I turn to the mirror — damn I look wild.
    My reflection shows a woman who’s been ravaged and savaged.
A woman who’s just had flaming hot sex. My hair has been backcombed against the
wooden panels of the door. My cheeks are a shiny apple-red and my neck blotchy
pink from John’s chin bristles. My lips are puffy and swollen and the brightest
shade of crimson imaginable, certainly not my usual, rather reserved colour.
    But my eyes, it’s my eyes that catch my attention. It’s
been a long time since I saw my alive, excited, woman-in-love look. It’s only
ever there when John is around. I indulge in the sight of my own soul glowing
from within. I know I must tidy up, but just for a second instead of being
Madam President, I just want to be Raine — Raine who is
head-over-heels in love and lust with John.
    I zip through appearance reconstruction
and head back into the Oval Office, clenching my vaginal muscles as my naughty
present rolls with my sashay.
    John is sitting on the couch wearing a
sombre expression. “Did you order more tea?” I ask.
    “There was a fresh pot on the table already.” His heavy
gaze finds mine. “Someone must have been in whilst we were… you know.”
    My heart does a giant flip of panic. Keep