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Saturday, February 5, 2011
Fruity Fortune by Lily Harlem
“The apple has been considered an aphrodisiac ever since Eve tempted Adam with it in the Garden of Eden. If an unmarried girl peels an apple in a continuous strip without breaking it, she should then fling it over her left shoulder. If it falls in one piece, the shape will indicate the initial of the man who will satisfy her deepest, darkest desires."
“You don’t believe this mumbo-jumbo do you, Sarah?”
“These old wives tales always have some truth to them.” I continued to peel the rosy red Pippin, being careful to keep the peel in one long strand as it concertinaed onto the plate.
“Give it up.” Julie frowned. “You’ve been out on six dates in the last four months none of whom you’ve even let kiss you goodnight.”
I groaned. “Yeah, don’t remind me.” They’d been nice enough guys, cute, successful, attentive, but my heart just hadn’t been in it – trouble was, only I knew why.
Glancing around Tanner’s near empty canteen I jerked my arm backwards, flicking the long fruity strand of peel over my left shoulder. I spun. Julie craned her neck.
“B,” I said triumphantly, studying the coiled peel resting on the lime green linoleum.
“Could be a capital R,” Julie said, wrinkling her nose.
“Definitely a B.” I shoved back my chair and grabbed my handbag. “Come on, we’ll be late for Rudart’s weekly sales meeting.”
Julie dashed into the ladies to fix her face as I rode the elevator. Alone I stared at my reflection in the smoky mirrored doors. My make-up was immaculate and my dark blonde hair poker straight. I eased out the wrinkles of my uber short skirt and adjusted the pearly beads hanging around my neck.
Level eight. The door slid open.
Brendon Carlisle stepped in.
My heart rate rocketed.
Brendon Carlisle was the sole, undisputed reason why my recent dates had been non-starters.
He wasn’t tall, dark and handsome. Well, handsome yes, but he was only an inch taller than me in my work heels. His hair was blond, a sun-kissed surfer blond which hung around his face in sharp, spiky bangs. His nose was biggish but dead straight and his lips wide and soft. His eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled and when he concentrated a neat vertical line plowed between his brows. How did I know all this? Because I’d spent hours studying him in Rudart’s dumb meetings.
Brendon bobbed his head in my direction and poked level nine. Whenever he moved I was mesmerized. He oozed both nonchalance and sin; it was as if he was wasting time at work until he could catch a wave, bungee from a bridge or get up to something dirty, sweaty and naked. How this guy was an accountant amazed me. It must be just to earn the money so he could go off on wild, daring adventures.
I shifted on my heels and stared at his back view. His shoulders were wide and his suit jacket stopped just short of the pertest butt I’d ever seen. Dragging in a breath I was hit by a fresh open water smell, clean and inviting, sparkling and vibrant.
Suddenly the elevator jerked. My knees locked and my spine lurched. A sickening grinding sound echoed above us.
“Shit,” Brendon said, glancing upward.
“What is it?” I asked, white knuckling my handbag.
He turned to me as the compartment juddered to a halt. “We’ve hit a kink in the ropes.”
“Hit a kink?”
“Yeah, happens sometimes.”
I set my bag on the floor and folded my arms to cover my hard nipples poking against my silky cream blouse. “How long till it gets going again?”
He shrugged. “Ten minutes maybe.”
“Hey, chill, Sarah, thirty at max.”
“Thirty!” I paused. “You know my name?”
“We’ve been working together for six months.” The right side of his mouth tilted and a small dimple appeared in his cheek. “I also know your eyes sparkle when there are cakes at a meeting and when it’s over you’re the first one up, straightening your skirt and grabbing your notes.” His gaze staked mine.
Silence hung between us. He had noticed me. The air conditioning clicked off.
“As if it wasn’t hot enough already,” I said, my skin prickling with sudden excitement.
He slipped off his jacket, grinned and stepped closer, real close. “Hot can be good, really good.”
“Brendon,” I said, placing my hands on his chest. Granite hard muscles pressed through his shirt. “But―?”
“Sarah, you and I have been dancing around each other for months, come on, admit it.”
“Admit what?” I was losing it. His stormy blue eyes were like deep oceans; I was drowning.
“We’re different from everyone else here.”
“Yeah, we have a sense of adventure, souls which seek out journeys of discovery.”
I swallowed down a lump the size of that damn pippin apple. He thought our souls sought adventures, together! “I suppose,” I said, feeling ridiculously ineloquent, but only for a micro-second because then his lips slammed onto mine. His tongue probed and searched, filling me with a minty, male flavour.
I whimpered and surrendered to the best kiss I’d had in years, no, make that ever! I clutched his shirt, fisting soft cotton and hung on for the delirious, wonderful mating of our tongues.
“You taste so sweet, I knew you would,” he murmured, his lips leaving my mouth and traveling across my cheek. “I’ve dreamed about doing this in every one of those damn meetings.”
I buckled my legs to stay upright. A fire was raging inside me, lusty, desperate flames of desire. Oh, god, I wanted Brendon.
My palms slid down his flat, tense abs., grabbed the base of his shirt and tugged hard. I had to have flesh on flesh; we were like two magnets pulling together.
He repeated the action on my silky blouse, wasting no time in sending his hand over the charged flesh on my stomach to cup my breast. I gasped as he squeezed and massaged me through my bra.
“Perfect,” he murmured, before finding my mouth again. His other hand was rucking up my skirt. I hooked one leg around his knee, grinding onto his hard, taut thigh muscles. What the hell was I doing? Only the thin strip of my silk panties separated my pussy from his suit pants. “Ah, Jesus,” he hissed, staring into my eyes.
I met his intense, excited gaze.
“You up for risk?” he asked, a sexy dimple appearing in his cheek again.
Risk? What risk? Oh, yes, the risk of having sex at work in the elevator. To heck with it. He was right, I was an adrenalin junkie. “Yes,” I said, fumbling for his fly zip. “But hurry.”
He slipped his finger beneath the gusset of my panties and skimmed over my clit. Shockwaves of desire tore through me, but I didn’t stop to relish them, instead I delved into his pants and wrapped my hand around his huge, rigid cock. He groaned, deep and guttural and in one sweeping movement hoisted me up, forcing me to release his erection. My back slammed against the mirrored wall and I wrapped my legs around his waist.
He yanked my panty gusset out of his way. “Fuck, I’ve wanted this for so long,” he said, the head of his cock butting up against my weeping pussy.
“Me to,” I gasped. “Quick, now.”
With one almighty thrust he surged in. I cried out in pleasure.
“Lord help me,” he moaned, withdrawing and slamming back in to the hilt.
An orgasm raced towards me. I’d never been on the edge of climax so quickly. I clawed my fingers through his hair, raking it back from his face. “Harder,” I shouted, my voice carnal and rasping. “Faster.”
He upped the pace and instantly tipped me over the edge. “Yes, yes,” I cried, spiralling into a free fall of ecstasy.
His breaths were rough in my ear. “Argh, fuck!” he groaned, freezing high inside me. My spasming pussy milked him, contracted and tightened around his pulsing cock. He shuddered, juddered, forged higher still. Then he was kissing me again, his tongue urgent and wet, moans of appreciation gurgling up from his throat.
The lift jolted, our joined bodies jerked.
“Shit,” he muttered, unlooping my legs and withdrawing his cock.
I landed on my heels, adjust my panties, smoothed my skirt and hair.
The lift door slid open.
A blond mechanic stood wielding a tool bag. “You guys okay?” His storm blue gaze slid over us. “You look flushed.”
“Damn lift and cranky air-con,” Brendon muttered, passing me my bag. His eyes caught mine. “You free for dinner?”
“Is there dessert?”
“Count on it, now I’ve had one bite of the apple I won’t be able to resist.” His mouth curled in a devastatingly sexy grin.
I stepped out the lift, straightened my pearls and glanced at the mechanic’s brass name badge: Robert Carlisle.
About the author: Lily Harlem is an award winning author of erotic romance and lives in the UK. She writes for Ellora’s Cave, Total-E-Bound and Xcite as well as featuring in numerous anthologies. Her stories are romantic and sexy, and with the bedroom door left wide open readers need to hang on for a steamy, sensual ride.
Link to my website – www.lilyharlem.weebly.com