knowing smile lit it up. Before she could sit down, he had her in his arms.
‘One more kiss before you sew. Just one … I’ll die without it.’
‘What are you like!’
He laughed, but very quietly, barely a breath against her lips. ‘Sometimes I’m not so sure … Around you I seem to have more randy uncontrollable hormones than I’ve ever had in my life.’ His lips brushed hers, almost floating. ‘God, I’ve missed you so much.’
And I you
, she wanted to say, but he was already kissing her. Harder than when they’d been out in the shop, voracious this time, his tongue darting into her mouth, exploring and owning her.
With him here again, all was right in the world. All her doubts, all the niggles about who he might have met in New York, they were the anxieties of an imaginary person. Her only reality was John, his mouth, his hands roving over herback and buttocks, his hands pressing her close to him; and, of course, his cock, solidly erect against her belly. Her hips rocked, massaging his hardness; she couldn’t help herself.
‘Yes … Yes …’ he gasped, then peppered her face with gentler kisses, greeting her jawline, her cheekbone, the corner of her eye, then travelling down to explore the uniquely tender spot beneath her ear, before drifting to the line of her throat.
For a few moments, time ticked by in slo-mo, as they kissed on. Lizzie explored too, sliding her open hands over his strong back through the cloth of his jacket, then gripping his fabulous arse to press their loins close together. In a dream world detached from reality, they’d hurry pell-mell to the nearest bed, rug, or even just an available flat surface, and fuck like wildcats. But eventually, a tiny voice at the back of her brain reminded her that they were in the real world, not a dream, and she had work to do.
‘Sorry,’ said John as they broke apart, catching their breath. ‘Fell on you like a slavering dog again, didn’t I?’ His face was aglow, and his beautiful eyes were merry. There were dashes of pink on his cheekbones.
Lizzie grinned back at him. ‘Don’t worry. I like it. And when I’ve got this little job out of the way, I’m looking forward to a whole lot more of it.’
‘Attagirl,’ he replied, then pulled out a chair from against the wall and subsided gracefully into it. ‘Do your thing … Then later we’ll do
our
thing, eh?’
Shaking, Lizzie gave him a nod, and then returned her attention to the dress, slipping it into the machine and taking up where she’d left off. The act of sewing calmed her, even under John’s scrutiny, and soon she was slipping the garment back on to the tailor’s dummy. Drawing in a deep breath tocentre herself, she sank to a crouch, scrutinising the hem one last time, and checking it was level all the way round. Luckily, it was spot-on, so she whipped the frock off the form for the final touches.
John had remained silent while she worked, but his presence still filled the room. She could feel his sharp eyes observing every action, and surveillance like that should have rattled her, but somehow it didn’t. She was totally excited by him being there, yet at the same time, inexplicably, she could still function and wield her craft. It was almost as if her fingers had moved even more confidently than usual as she’d handled the luxury fabric, double-checking that the stitching was even and perfect.
‘There,’ she said, to herself as much as to him, donning her thimble and taking up a needle to fine-finish the hem.
‘That’s a pretty dress,’ said John at last, as if he’d been waiting for the task to be near complete before disturbing her. ‘It reminds me a little of your golden dress, the one you wore at the Eyes Wide Shut party. I bet you look just as sensational in blue, though.’ His smile widened. ‘But then, you look sensational in everything … and also out of it.’
‘Mr Smith! I’m trying to work here.’ She smiled, though, because she’d
‘One more kiss before you sew. Just one … I’ll die without it.’
‘What are you like!’
He laughed, but very quietly, barely a breath against her lips. ‘Sometimes I’m not so sure … Around you I seem to have more randy uncontrollable hormones than I’ve ever had in my life.’ His lips brushed hers, almost floating. ‘God, I’ve missed you so much.’
And I you
, she wanted to say, but he was already kissing her. Harder than when they’d been out in the shop, voracious this time, his tongue darting into her mouth, exploring and owning her.
With him here again, all was right in the world. All her doubts, all the niggles about who he might have met in New York, they were the anxieties of an imaginary person. Her only reality was John, his mouth, his hands roving over herback and buttocks, his hands pressing her close to him; and, of course, his cock, solidly erect against her belly. Her hips rocked, massaging his hardness; she couldn’t help herself.
‘Yes … Yes …’ he gasped, then peppered her face with gentler kisses, greeting her jawline, her cheekbone, the corner of her eye, then travelling down to explore the uniquely tender spot beneath her ear, before drifting to the line of her throat.
For a few moments, time ticked by in slo-mo, as they kissed on. Lizzie explored too, sliding her open hands over his strong back through the cloth of his jacket, then gripping his fabulous arse to press their loins close together. In a dream world detached from reality, they’d hurry pell-mell to the nearest bed, rug, or even just an available flat surface, and fuck like wildcats. But eventually, a tiny voice at the back of her brain reminded her that they were in the real world, not a dream, and she had work to do.
‘Sorry,’ said John as they broke apart, catching their breath. ‘Fell on you like a slavering dog again, didn’t I?’ His face was aglow, and his beautiful eyes were merry. There were dashes of pink on his cheekbones.
Lizzie grinned back at him. ‘Don’t worry. I like it. And when I’ve got this little job out of the way, I’m looking forward to a whole lot more of it.’
‘Attagirl,’ he replied, then pulled out a chair from against the wall and subsided gracefully into it. ‘Do your thing … Then later we’ll do
our
thing, eh?’
Shaking, Lizzie gave him a nod, and then returned her attention to the dress, slipping it into the machine and taking up where she’d left off. The act of sewing calmed her, even under John’s scrutiny, and soon she was slipping the garment back on to the tailor’s dummy. Drawing in a deep breath tocentre herself, she sank to a crouch, scrutinising the hem one last time, and checking it was level all the way round. Luckily, it was spot-on, so she whipped the frock off the form for the final touches.
John had remained silent while she worked, but his presence still filled the room. She could feel his sharp eyes observing every action, and surveillance like that should have rattled her, but somehow it didn’t. She was totally excited by him being there, yet at the same time, inexplicably, she could still function and wield her craft. It was almost as if her fingers had moved even more confidently than usual as she’d handled the luxury fabric, double-checking that the stitching was even and perfect.
‘There,’ she said, to herself as much as to him, donning her thimble and taking up a needle to fine-finish the hem.
‘That’s a pretty dress,’ said John at last, as if he’d been waiting for the task to be near complete before disturbing her. ‘It reminds me a little of your golden dress, the one you wore at the Eyes Wide Shut party. I bet you look just as sensational in blue, though.’ His smile widened. ‘But then, you look sensational in everything … and also out of it.’
‘Mr Smith! I’m trying to work here.’ She smiled, though, because she’d
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