Liaisons Read online

  Contents

  Cover

  About the Book

  About the Author

  Also in the Black Lace short fiction collection

  Title Page

  Roadside Rescue Janine Ashbless

  Table for Three A.D.R. Forte

  My Tutor Primula Bond

  Advanced Corsetry Justine Elyot

  Men Charlotte Stein

  Junking Alison Tyler

  Perfect Timing Kristina Wright

  Archeogasms K D Grace

  Wednesdays and Tuesdays Sommer Marsden

  The Woodsman Charlotte Stein

  Glamour Carrie Williams

  Under the Big Top Mae Nixon

  A Stroll Down Adultery Alley Portia Da Costa

  Copyright

  About the Book

  The creators of the bestselling Wicked Words series bring you Liaisons.

  Indulgent and sensual, outrageous and taboo, but always highly erotic, this new collection of Black Lace short stories takes as its theme the illicit and daring rendezvous with a lover (or lovers). Incorporating a breathtaking range of female sexual experiences and fantasies, these red-hot tales of torrid trysts and passionate assignations will arouse even the kinkiest of readers.

  About the Author

  Featuring authors old and new from North America and the UK including Portia Da Costa, A.D.R Forte and Jennie Ashbless.

  Also in the Black Lace short fiction collection

  Wicked Words 1–10

  Quickies 1–10

  Sex in the Office

  Sex on Holiday

  Sex and the Sports Club

  Sex on the Move

  Sex in Uniform

  Sex in the Kitchen

  Sex and Music

  Sex and Shopping

  Sex in Public

  Sex with Strangers

  Love on the Dark Side (Paranormal Erotica)

  Lust at First Bite – Sexy Vampire Stories

  Seduction

  Paranormal erotic romance novella collections:

  Lust Bites

  Possession

  Magic and Desire

  Enchanted

  Roadside Rescue

  Janine Ashbless

  ABSOLUTELY BLOODY TYPICAL.

  Of course her car had chosen to break down on the emptiest road in Scotland, on an afternoon when it was lashing with rain. Of course it would be on this day of all days. And of course there’d been no reception on her mobile phone, just one bar flickering fitfully on the digital display.

  Sarah’s first reaction had been rage: the sort of helpless rage that was unpleasantly close to tears. She’d slammed the steering wheel with her hands and sworn at the car and then at the rain and then at God, if he happened to be listening. But, after that, she’d got a grip on herself. There’d been no other vehicles in sight and she didn’t remember passing one in twenty miles. She’d had to make contact with the outside world somehow.

  And of course she hadn’t brought waterproofs: she’d expected to spend the whole weekend indoors, either in bed or in the hotel restaurant. She did have an umbrella in the glove box but when she’d got out of the car, leaving the emergency lights flashing, she’d quickly discovered that it wasn’t going to help much. The wind had been coming across the rolling moor-top in petulant gusts, nearly snapping the ribs of the umbrella as she clutched it low over her head, flattening the little white tufts of bog cotton to the ground and driving the rain nearly horizontally. Her dress – her lovely flirty rose-print dress that she knew Mervyn would like so much, and take such pleasure in stripping from her – had been soaked through in less than a minute.

  Gritting her teeth, she’d turned towards a rocky crag that was the nearest bit of high ground and had set off through the coarse grass. Icy peat-brown water had closed over her ankles at once as she negotiated the roadside ditch, and she’d howled inwardly at the thought of how much she’d paid for the pretty summer sandals she was now ruining.

  But she’d made it. After ten minutes she’d reached the top of the hillock and found two bars’ worth of phone connection, enough to ring out. She’d thought of dialling Mervyn but she’d only managed to get through to his voicemail when she stopped at the garage outside Glasgow, so she’d rung her breakdown service instead. And the operator had promised a recovery vehicle within an hour.

  He was quite a bit faster than that, actually. Sarah was safely back in the car but still wallowing in her fury and panic when she saw the flashing orange lights in her rear-view mirror; suddenly all the bad stuff went away and she was so relieved she could have cried, though she was instantly ashamed of her weakness. The truck pulled up just ahead of her car and parked with lights still shimmering, and a figure in bulky yellow waterproofs paced to her passenger door and knocked.

  ‘You all right?’ he asked, bending to look in the lowered window. Under his hood he had a disarming smile, but the gust of wind-driven rain made her recoil.

  ‘Yes. Just cold.’ Her dress was plastered to her legs like a second skin. She’d thought about pulling on the change of clothing she’d brought, but that would have left her with nothing dry to wear later. She couldn’t believe how chilly the rain was – not like July at all. Why on earth had they chosen Scotland to meet?

  ‘On your own?’

  ‘Afraid so.’

  ‘Well, you’ve not picked the best week to be holidaying. Pop the bonnet will you, and I’ll take a look. If you want to go sit in my cab the engine’s on. It’ll be warmer.’

  He disappeared behind the raised bonnet and Sarah braced herself to face the weather. She felt she ought to talk to him about engine symptoms, but the wind nearly knocked her sideways as she got out and she couldn’t even look into the sharp-edged rain. She gave up on any thought of toughing it out, and scurried for the flat-bedded garage truck parked on the verge ahead. The vehicle was so tall she had to climb up onto its broad back seat, from where she could see the repairman stooped over her car’s engine. The rain made his fluorescent clothing flare and wobble through the glass.

  What if he couldn’t fix it quickly? she asked herself. What would Mervyn do if she were late? He could be so impatient sometimes. And if she was really late he might think something terrible had happened. Would he call the police? Would he dare? She needed to get to a phone.

  The mechanic came back over and braced the cab door open against the wind. ‘You’ve got a blown cylinder. I’m going to put your car on the back and take you into town. OK?’

  Sarah nodded, and rain showered off her hair.

  ‘There’s a towel behind your seat there, if you like.’

  ‘Will it take long to fix? The cylinder?’

  His eyebrows rose. ‘Well, if you’re lucky and we’ve got the parts in we’ll maybe get it done tomorrow. After that you’ll have to wait until Monday.’

  ‘Tomorrow?’ She was aware she was keeping him standing in the rain but she couldn’t help the squeak of protest.

  ‘You got somewhere you need to be in a hurry?’

  ‘Fort William. I’m supposed to be there tonight!’

  He shook his head. ‘No chance. Not in that car, anyway.’

  ‘Well – is there a taxi?’

  ‘Not around here.’ The bang of the door cut off the cold draught.

  Tomorrow? They’d only booked two nights in the hotel; that was all Mervyn could get away for. It was all going to be ruined. She imagined him sitting in the hotel bar, his tumbler of single malt on the table before him, his fingers drumming on the polished wood as he waited and waited and she didn’t turn up. He’d be furious, in his cold polite way. It was all a complete mess.

  Sarah felt an unexpected flicker of anger. It wasn’t enough that she’d had to go through this, she was going to get the blame too. Mervyn would extrac
t some sort of forfeit. He’d withhold something that she wanted just to make his point.

  Sighing, she shrugged off the picture and found the towel behind her seat, along with a sleeping bag. The towel wasn’t laundry-fresh; as she rumpled her hair she could smell a faint masculine aroma, disturbing yet oddly comforting. She kept an eye out through the window as she rubbed her thighs and arms, lifting her skirt, then pulled down her top to mop her chest. Her nipples were poking through the wet cotton of her bra rather obviously and she pressed them with the palm of her hand in a vain attempt to quell their impertinence. Her thighs were itching from the cold and she scratched at them, feeling a rash flare on her pale skin.

  The rescueman was lowering the back of the truck, attaching a winch to her car, then using a hydraulic control to draw the smaller vehicle up the ramp onto the truck bed. The orange truck lights throbbed steadily, twinkling in the raindrops that crawled down the glass. He worked quickly, efficiently, strapping the car down with long canvas bands. She liked that. She liked his broad shoulders. She liked the smell of him on her skin, and that made a little worm of guilt squirm inside her. She squashed it flat.

  With everything secured he returned to the cab and jumped into the driver’s seat in front of her, hastily stripping off his waterproofs. Underneath he wore a white sweater and worn jeans, and the rain had got through to them too in patches. ‘Pass the towel,’ he said, twisting to look at her.

  She handed it over. ‘Sorry, it’s a bit damp.’

  His eyes flicked up and down her. Blue eyes, and the beginning of nice lines in his face. He probably wasn’t even aware that he’d done it, she thought, but she knew he’d taken in the way her wet dress clung to her, and she blushed, smiling. He hesitated before speaking, but she did not seize the chance to look away and break the moment.

  ‘Oh, I can cope with a little damp.’ His humour was gentle. ‘Wouldn’t be living up here if I couldn’t, would I now?’

  ‘I suppose not.’ She could feel herself glowing. His gaze dropped to her wet breasts and this time he was clearly conscious of where his eyes were resting. ‘But you’ll be wanting a hotel room now.’

  She didn’t know what to say. He caught his lip in his teeth and waited.

  ‘OK,’ she managed.

  The tentative flicker in his eye died down. ‘Since you’ll be staying overnight, I guess.’

  ‘Uh-huh.’

  ‘And we don’t want you catching your death.’

  The moment – the something that might have been, the barely definable suggestion of possibility – passed and he turned away. Sarah watched as he dried off with the towel, rumpling his hair to dark spikes. The back of his neck was weathered brown, his broad hands ingrained with old oil. Her heart was suddenly thudding in her chest. She had to say something, had to keep him talking, because she could feel Mervyn’s disapproval looming at the back of her head and, if she let the conversation lapse, it would come crashing in on her.

  ‘You know I’ve only got basic membership,’ she admitted. ‘I’m only entitled to roadside assistance, not recovery to a garage.’

  He glanced briefly over his shoulder. ‘Well I’m not leaving you here, am I? We can sort it out later. Unless there’s another garage you’d rather be calling?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Well then.’

  At that moment she saw her fingers touch the back of his neck. They’d moved entirely without conscious direction and, though he was the one who jumped, she was damn sure he was no more surprised than she was. His skin felt silky-warm.

  ‘Those are cold!’ He laughed to cover the precarious moment.

  ‘Sorry,’ she whispered, feeling the prickle of his nape hairs under her exploring fingertips. His heat was irresistible. ‘I really could do with somewhere to warm them up.’

  ‘Oh?’ He took a deep breath. ‘Well, you know, I can think of somewhere …’

  ‘Go on then.’ She had no idea where this daring was coming from, but it seemed to be determined to press on, wilfully ignoring Mervyn’s thunderous glare.

  ‘Well … You mean that?’

  ‘Yes.’

  He was galvanised. He scrambled over the back of the seats, sitting in the notch between the headrests – the cab was just tall enough – staring at her, his breath suddenly loud down his nose. His lower lip was caught once more in his teeth, making his smile lopsided and wary. He still didn’t look like he believed what she was offering until she reached up and laid her hands on his thighs, framing the bulge of his crotch. He put his hands on hers then, stroking her fingers and up her wrists, his fingertips callused, his touch increasingly firm. She undid his belt, slipping the top button of his jeans then working down the fly over what was a growing bulge. He had to help her pull out the burgeoning length of his cock, which quickly swayed impressively erect. His shaft surged and thickened even as she ran her fingers down his length for the first time. She could smell the washing-powder perfume of fresh clothes on the heat of his skin.

  He was definitely on the substantial side.

  ‘God, yes,’ he said in an undertone as she tipped forwards to take his blunt and eager bell in her mouth, tasting his salt: there was nothing floral about that. He felt hot on her cold lips. He wrapped his fingers in her wet hair, quite gently, pressing her down on his cock. She took it all the way to the back of her mouth and held it there, squeezing, until he groaned with pleasure.

  Because that was how Mervyn liked it too.

  It was a wonderful cock, Sarah thought. She gave it the licking and sucking it deserved, until he was perfectly hard. She was good at sucking dick – Mervyn had told her that. She knew she could keep doing this until the stranger came in her mouth, and then she could walk away almost innocent. But the unknown rebel twisted in her guts and she pulled off. ‘What’s your name?’ she asked softly.

  He looked mesmerised. ‘Gavin.’ His cock swayed, its wet length glistening.

  ‘Hey, Gavin.’ She reached into her cleavage, finding the little package nestled there, warm from her body heat. ‘Put this on.’ And, as he tore the pack and skinned on the rubber, she turned and flipped up her skirt, presenting her pale thighs with their red scratch lines, and the round firm gift of her bum. When he tugged her panties down and touched her slash he found a hot and slippery wetness that was nothing to do with the rain. He pushed his wonderful cock home into that wet, as tight as a piston in its sleeve, and gripped her bum with his oily hands as he began to work her. She braced her arms on the back of the seat, taking him all the way. He’s thicker than I’m used to, she admitted, as he stretched her wide. That pressure, the way he made her insides yield to his bulk and his force – that was something she desperately needed, she realised now. She could feel her interior surge of arousal, a glacial shifting, and she pushed back against him, her gasps coming quick and sharp.

  And, God, he was sweet. He even leaned in over her to touch her clit and drive her to her climax while his thick cock pumped her pussy, so that she came first, panting and squealing – and then he came too, shooting his cream into her tight grip.

  Behind her eyes Mervyn’s disapproving face disintegrated in an explosion of light.

  In her hotel room that night Sarah sat on the edge of her bed and wondered what the hell she’d been thinking of. She’d never tried such a thing in her life before – so what had made her jump a recoveryman like that? Sure, he wasn’t unattractive, but she’d been on her way to visit someone else. Was that it then? After weeks of anticipation, was it being unable to cope with being frustrated at the last moment?

  It wasn’t just weeks, she reminded herself. It was nearly three months since she’d last been able to meet with Mervyn. And then it had been a night at the theatre – two tickets bought separately – and a furtive against-the-wall shuffle in the Ladies’ during the second act.

  She recalled that passionate struggle wistfully, but the picture blurred and was ousted by a more recent memory: Gavin shafting her doggy-style on the back seat of the truck
cab. His grunts of pleasure as he powered his way into her. His hard thighs and thick cock.

  Her phone rang.

  Sarah knew who it was before she picked up. She’d left a message on his voicemail as soon as she could, and later rung the hotel reception at Fort William to leave another apology and a backup message: I’m stranded overnight seventy miles south of you.

  ‘Sarah.’

  ‘Mervyn – are you OK? Did you get my message?’

  ‘Yes. Where are you now?’

  ‘I had to take a hotel room.’ She hurriedly explained about the car and finished with, ‘Are you coming to pick me up?’

  ‘I don’t think so. That would hardly be wise.’ He was always very careful about traceability was Mervyn. He’d never so much as given her a lift to the station. Sarah felt her shoulders sag.

  ‘Well what are we going to do?’

  ‘You can drive up tomorrow. And I’m going to wait here – I’m sure I can find something to keep me amused.’

  She felt the hurt flex inside her. ‘Are you sure? That’ll only be one night we have together then.’ Even if Gavin did get the car fixed quickly, she added to herself. If it wasn’t until Monday she’d have blown the whole weekend for nothing, plus she would have to take a day’s leave from work.

  ‘It’ll have to do, if you can’t manage to keep your car road-worthy. Are you in your room at the moment?’

  ‘Yes.’ She was reeling a little from the clipped accusation.

  ‘Alone?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘Go and look out of the window.’

  She stood and went to open the curtains. ‘What am I looking for?’

  ‘What can you see out there?’

  ‘Not much – it’s dark.’

  ‘And your room light is on?’

  ‘Uh-uh.’

  ‘Good. What’s out there by daylight?’

  ‘The main road through the village.’ Gavin had described it as a town but it was really no more than a village with a castle, a tiny museum, and a single hotel. ‘It goes along the water … We’re on a sea loch here, I think. It’s calm out there. No beach or anything.’

  ‘Excellent. So anyone out there can see into your lit window?’

  She shivered. ‘I guess.’