Sharing Nicely by Victoria Blisse Page A

every aspect of my visage.
    “Come for me.” He said those three words, gently, deeply but with such command that as he pressed my clit and rubbed once and just before he completed the next sweep the ecstasy swamped me. I felt the swathe of his fingertip and I shuddered and twisted beneath him. His upper body pressed down on me as his lips met mine. He sucked on the orgasmic gratification that poured from my body and it transferred from my body to his, like a wave. He then passed it back with the movements of his lips and the stilling of his fingers. The intensity of pleasure lessened as we batted it between us, lip to lip, finger to clit.
    I gasped deeply when he pulled out of the kiss, desperate for oxygen and stability. We lay still, atmosphere heavy, bodies replete. I could feel the need to say things, to whisper sweet nothings—this was the point to do that. But when I rolled over, ready to say something potentially stupid, he rolled the other way and perched on the edge of the bed.
    “I better check that my company still exists, but I’ll be back for you soon, my wicked temptress.”
    I smiled then and swallowed the words that had bubbled up inside.
    * * * *
    I soon persuaded myself it had been silliness, a response to the ecstasy that had streamed through my body. The short trip passed in a whirl of shopping, eating and fucking. It was glorious but when we were out I felt the gaze of the world on my shoulders. I felt a little like I was being paraded around like a prized pet. I didn’t know if Greg thought of me like that—he never professed anything deeper than lust for me, even there in the city of lovers.
    I felt a sadness creep over me when I got home. I got back into the swing of work and loved that, as always, but when I got home each night—well, early hours of the morning—I felt the loneliness of an empty apartment more keenly. Remembering the encounters with Greg and of course Darren didn’t remove any of that.

Chapter Five
    “So, sweet cheeks, what have you got planned for today?”
    I shook my head against my mobile and sighed. “Work, Darren, it’s Saturday night.”
    “You’re the boss, can’t you—?”
    “No, I can’t,” I snapped before he finished his sentence. I hadn’t slept well since returning from Paris earlier in the week. Something weighed heavy on my heart but I was reluctant to inspect it further to find out what it was.
    “All right, fair enough, love,” he sighed. “Maybe another time, then?”
    “Yeah, maybe.” My tone and my resolve softened when I heard the disappointment in his voice. He was only trying to be nice to me after all.
    I forgot the conversation soon enough in the hubbub of that night. We had a birthday party to cater on top of the usual rush for food and drinks and a good old time. I was a barman down to flu and a nasty virus had wiped out several of my waiting staff. I divided my time between the two, filling in the gaps. I might have been the boss but I was just a member of staff like any other and I mucked in when needed to make things work. I was knackered by eleven and although food service had ended and it was relatively quiet I knew it wouldn’t last. Saturday night saw the clubbers turn out in force. We would be packed to the rafters again within the hour.
    “Jen, could you stay on and tend bar?” I asked one of the waitresses as she walked past.
    “Oh, boss, you know I would usually but—” She patted her tummy, which was a little more protruding than usual. I then remembered why I hadn’t asked her to do any overtime for a while.
    “Oh, I’m sorry, I forgot in the madness of it all. How are you feeling?”
    “Not bad,” she replied. “Morning sickness is over at last, thank God. It’s the swollen ankles that do my head in now, but still, won’t be long till the little sprout makes an appearance.”
    “No, not long. We need to meet about your maternity leave… Before you go could you just ask the others if any of them want