Your Room or Mine? by Charlotte Phillips

in the mud, and then he felt her warm breath on him as she took him into her mouth. The pleasure was so acute he failed to stop a moan, and then she was moving with deliberate tantalising slowness, her tongue sliding over his length as she sucked gently. He tangled his hands in her wet hair, the unfamiliar sensation of outdoor freedom, cool air and rain on his skin mingled with the heat curling through his body, enveloping his mind as she moved her lips in a rhythmic friction that drove him crazy.
    With a monumental effort, he tugged her to her feet, wanting her now, right this second. He grabbed her hand and pulled her, stumbling through the mud and water, both of them half-dressed, into the kitchen where he had condoms. As he shrugged out of his wet clothes and readied himself, she peeled off her soaked shorts and panties, then she planted her hand firmly on his chest and pushed him, holding his gaze steadily with her own, backwards until he hit one of the chairs beside the table.
    â€˜Sit down,’ she said, and as he did she climbed into his lap and lowered herself inch by delicious inch onto him. Toes on the floor, she rolled her hips and began to grind against him, her hands cool against his cheek as she held his face and kissed him, responding to his every move as if she had some sixth sense, speeding up and slowing down until she’d teased him to the point of madness. He caressed the curve of her bottom, slid hands over the softness of her back, slightly gritty under his fingers from the drying mud, let her ride him on her terms until he could take no more. Then, standing up and sliding hands beneath her, he walked the few paces to lean her back against the kitchen wall. He screwed her against it, crushing her mouth with his own, her arms around his neck, her long legs crossed behind his waist as he drove into her again and again, waiting for her cry of satisfaction before he let himself release the last tendrils of control.

    ****

    Showered and in his bed, the rain continued to pelt against the high windows, giving the bedroom a cosy feel.
    â€˜Thanks,’ she said.
    He propped himself up on one elbow, looked down at her on the pillow, unruly waves of hair pooled around her face.
    â€˜What for?’
    â€˜Helping me out with the plants. Not getting annoyed at the mess in your kitchen. Plenty of clients wouldn’t have been so understanding if I’d walked muddy water into their house.’
    â€˜Is that all I am, a client?’ he said. He watched for her reaction, saw the grey-green eyes soften with laughter.
    â€˜Are you saying you want it to be more?’
    He shrugged.
    â€˜We could be friends,’ he said.
    â€˜Friends?’
    â€˜Friends with benefits,’ he said, grinning. ‘Ringing the changes from just benefits.’
    He meant it light-heartedly but as she smiled up at him his heart turned over softly.
    â€˜Stay,’ he said then, before he could stop himself. Already desire was coursing through him again. He had expected her to be a longer-term extension to his usual one-night-stands. He certainly hadn’t counted on this thing with her being such a laugh. Hadn’t counted on looking forward to seeing her the way he did. When had he last finished work earlier than six? Bumped work for something, anything else? He’d taken his eye off the ball with her and that was dangerous, he should be distancing himself, but then he would be soon enough. The end of the garden contract loomed ahead of them and he insisted to himself that he was simply making the most of the situation until then. This thing between them would come to a natural end then.
    â€˜For dinner?’ She looked up at him from the pillow.
    â€˜For dinner, then the night. Stay over.’
    A pause. Just a momentary one, yet still a pause. She hadn’t automatically dismissed it.
    Maybe this was worse, because now she dismissed it after consideration. And of course she was right