Daisy's French Farmhouse, page 15
By the time I get to Anton’s house and ring the doorbell before my courage can fail me, my heart is pumping fast and not from the exercise. All the cycling since I got here has definitely increased my fitness.
I hear an excited volley of woofs from Pickle and Squeaker and can’t help folding my arms defensively across my chest as I wait. I know closed body language isn’t exactly helpful right now but the instinct to protect myself is visceral and strong. I can’t hear Anton yet but his car is here. I do hope he’s here; I don't think I could get up the courage to do this a second time.
Finally I hear his footsteps and him talking to the dogs.
I take a deep breath as he opens the door a crack to stop the dogs rushing out. When he sees it’s me he opens the door wider so the dogs can run out and meet me and I can come into the house.
“Daisy, this is a surprise.” His face morphs from confusion, sure that he hadn’t booked me for dog sitting, to pleasure at seeing me anyway, whatever the reason.
“A nice surprise, I hope?” I ask casually, so glad of the dogs as a buffer, giving me something to do with my hands as I reach down to stroke them, taking some of my self-consciousness away.
No more polite chit chat and disappointment afterwards that nothing meaningful was exchanged in words, even though I’ve felt that current of meaningfulness pulsing between us each time we’ve seen each other.
“Of course, we are always happy to see you,” he replies smoothly. “Sometimes I think the dogs like you more than they do me.”
We. Yes, the dogs – he clearly finds them a useful buffer too.
I smile. “Well, of course I do bribe them.”
“There wasn’t anything planned today, was there?” Anton asks cautiously.
“No, I was just at a loose end and I thought why not come over and say hi,” I say, my chest a little tight with nerves. “So… hi.”
“Hi to you too.” Anton grins. A moment passes when I desperately try to think of what to say next. Luckily he beats me to it. “Would you like to come in? We can sit in the garden and have a drink if you like?”
“Yes, that would be nice.” I smile, relieved and able to breathe easily again.
We walk through the kitchen and I do my best to ignore the split-second memory replay of the time he kissed me just before he stepped away. Not helpful right now.
“Would you like a kir royale?”
“That would be lovely,” I say, thinking a little Dutch courage might come in handy.
I watch Anton pour measures of crème de cassis into long-stem glasses and then top them off with champagne.
“Do you always have champagne in the fridge?”
“I was keeping it for when I finish my book.”
“Oh, you’ve finished it already? That’s great news.”
“Just a first draft.” He shrugs modestly. “I can always buy some more for the day I finish my final draft.”
“That’s great progress though.” I follow Anton through the kitchen door and crunch across the gravel towards the wrought-iron love seat beneath the shade of an olive tree.
The dogs follow us too and flop down on the grass, under the shade of the tree.
The seat is rather snug so it’s impossible to stop my thigh pressing up against Anton’s when we sit.
“To your book, may it be a great success.” I raise my glass in a toast and Anton chinks his glass against mine.
“Thank you,” he replies gravely, his gaze resting curiously on me as though trying to puzzle me out.
I turn my face away and take a sip, savouring the fruity blackcurrant bubbles on my tongue and the warmth that slides down into my chest with each mouthful.
I get the impression he’s waiting for me to reveal why I’m here, and that he can keep quiet, keep waiting, for as long as it takes. I’m sure my cheeks are growing pinker by the minute. I feel jittery but I can’t bottle this now. My mind flashes forwards to how I’ll feel tomorrow if I don’t take this chance. The worst he can say is thanks but no thanks.
I stare down at the blackcurrant bubbles in my glass. That isn’t actually the worst he could say but he’s a nice guy, so I can’t see him letting me down with anything but kindness.
“Everything okay, Daisy?” Anton asks, his tone warm but concerned.
“Yes… I’ve just been thinking… well, wondering really…” My heart starts to pound and I feel a little faint. I take a deep breath and start again. “I know that things happened a little… fast the day of our first outing.”
When you kissed me, I don’t say.
“And I know we both talked about it and agreed it just wasn’t right because of the timing… but, well, I wanted you to know if you ever change your mind about the timing, I’ve changed my mind…” I swear inwardly. The speech is going great so far. Not. “I happen to think you’re worth waiting for.”
Anton reaches over and gently strokes my face with the hand not holding his drink. His touch is tender and my nerve endings shiver at his touch. His eyes are dark; I can’t quite read what I see in his gaze but the intensity hits me like a fire bolt.
We sit staring at each other, saying nothing, yet many invisible messages flash between us.
“I did have more I planned to say.” Eventually I break the silence. “But I can’t remember any of it now. You’re distracting me.”
He smiles and takes my drink from my hand and puts both glasses down, safely away from the dogs.
“Come here,” he says, gesturing for me to come and sit on his lap.
I do, feeling strangely shy.
“I’m sure there was something else important in my speech.” I giggle, a little giddy with relief and a touch of incredulity. In spite of my inner certainty that this is meant to be and that Anton wanted it too, I hadn’t really got further than my speech in my mind. I hadn’t let myself dream that he would respond favourably and my heart is soaring.
“That is a shame about the speech.” Anton’s eyes sparkle with mischief as he gently strokes my bare thighs up to the hem of my shorts. “I was really enjoying it.”
“Er, well.” I try to focus but Anton’s continuing exploration has me even more distracted than I’d been to start with. “Did you like the bit about being worth waiting for?”
“Very much, yes,” Anton replies solemnly. “I’ll admit I had a few things to think about, to process… Yet the waiting has been difficult for me too. I wanted to touch you so many times.”
I pause, assimilating his comments, letting the joy of the words speak to my soul and grow wings.
“Me too.” I let out a deep sigh. “I think I was going to say a bit about joy not being so plentiful in life. That we should hold on to it when we find it.”
Anton draws me in closer. “So I should hold on to you. Excellent idea.”
“We can take it one day at a time and just explore this… connection and see where it leads us.”
“Maybe it would be simpler if we stop talking and get on with embracing… the joy?” Anton raises a thick eyebrow. I know he is taking my words seriously but I suspect there is, like with me, an awful lot of pent-up sexual tension simmering just beneath the surface.
“You forgot about exploring the connection. We need to do that too.” I lean forwards, my mouth close to his lips, wanting him to take charge. After all, I did the whole mad cycle dash and brave declaration thing; it’s his turn to take charge. Hmm… maybe I need to apologise to Poppy – sometimes the declaration gesture does work, it seems. Making the declaration to the right man probably has a lot to do with it.
Anton pulls me in closer, his lips meeting mine, and we kiss far more passionately, more hungrily than our first kiss. Yes, I’d say I’m right that I wasn’t the only one extremely frustrated by how things ended prematurely last time, however important the reason.
“You told me to embrace, yes?” There’s a twinkle in Anton’s eye and he puts on a fake bad English accent. “I am sorry, my English, she is not so good.”
I laugh.
“Shall we go upstairs?” His tone is more serious now and the energy has shifted subtly between us from teasing to raw need. “We can slow it down if you like, but I must admit that taking you to bed has been on my mind ever since we kissed.”
“Me too,” I admit with a sigh of pleasure and relief, feeling some of the residual tension seeping out of my pores.
Walking up the stairs I feel almost as self-conscious as a teenager, my nerves practically fizzing with anticipation. Yet strangely at a deeper level I feel a total calm, a knowing that this is right. I did the right thing.
And he said yes.
Once we’re alone in the bedroom, the dogs hopefully asleep in their beds downstairs in the kitchen, I am seized by the desire to make the most of this moment. I hardly dared dream Anton would say yes when I cycled over, though of course I’d hoped. Hoped in a quiet sort of way though, so as not to tempt fate. I knew there was a very real chance that it would all end in mortification and disappointment.
I don’t want to waste time in case it gives him a chance to change his mind. I’m not willing to take that risk.
I meet his embrace, putting my arms up around his neck and lifting my face to his, my lips slightly parted, a tide of insistent need rising up inside me.
Longing to connect.
Wanting to make love.
His eyes darken, pupils dilating as he lowers his mouth to meet mine. I press my body against his as we kiss, hungrily, passionately, our mouths signalling mutual intent, a mutual need to take things further. There is no question mark in our kissing or touching now. The energy between us has changed with the move from kitchen to bedroom – it’s more intense and charged with anticipation. Perhaps Anton is afraid of losing this moment too.
I lower my arms, one hand around his back and the other on his denim-clad bottom. I squeeze and he pulls me even tighter against him, as though trying to obliterate any gap between us. I hadn’t imagined the passion of our first kiss with subsequent wishful thinking. It was present then and it’s most definitely here now. Passion and something more, that tug, some undefinable quality that stirs me deeper than any other man ever has.
He’s delicious, this kind, funny, and quietly sexy man. He doesn’t have Scott’s swagger but a solid, quiet confidence concealing passionate depths – something that is far sexier in my opinion. And as he kisses me his passionate sexual energy is practically tangible.
I sense Anton is trying to hold back while we explore each other, trying to gauge my preferences, to be respectful. I’ve always been in tune with my own sexual energy and confident in my body, yet for our first time there is so much exploring to do. It’s best to take our time, to feel things out, gradually, teasingly. Because I also crave a slow, sensuous discovery of each other’s bodies with lots of stroking and kissing. I want to explore and be explored slowly, progressively, passion building until the world around us fades away and our bodies become one. Yet I’m not sure either one of us is going to be capable of taking this first time that slowly.
The need to connect pulses between us. The desire to experience sexual connection stripped down to its basic raw energy. A dance of enticing invitation as I open my mind, my heart, and my body to be penetrated to my very core. Yielding and trusting the most fragile, tender parts of myself to a man I intuitively know is good and kind, as well as funny and sexy as hell.
Sex has always been about far more than physical sensation or release for me.
I need connection. The kind of deeper connection you can’t manufacture.
The kind of connection I can feel, without a doubt, I have with Anton.
I slide a hand in between our bodies and press my palm against his groin, upping the ante, exploration-wise.
He groans and exhales loudly. His cock feels hard already.
“I have been dreaming of this… so many nights. Wanting you in my bed.” His voice is husky, his French accent more pronounced than normal but not in a jokey way this time. My spirits soar at his admission. I hadn’t dared hope he might have been thinking of me, fantasising about me, these past weeks in the same way I’ve been thinking of him. He’s been so reserved at times; certainly before our chat in Mirepoix there had been such awkwardness at not knowing where we stood or how to behave, all on top of Anton processing his guilt about thinking of moving on. Perhaps he’s been holding himself back because he was afraid he might not be able to stop next time, if he let me close again. At least now he seems sure of what he wants, his defences are lowered and the awkwardness between us has disappeared. I don’t get any sense that he isn’t sure.
“Have you?” I run my fingers over his growing erection. “I’ve been thinking about it too – quite a lot in fact.”
My skin feels flushed, my cheeks warm.
The evening sun casts a soft light over the room and there’s a faint but welcome breeze through the open windows. I glance up at Anton’s face to see how he reacts to my admission
“Really?” He seems pleasantly surprised and turned on by it, his eyes gleaming, his mouth widening into a smile.
“I never thought you would give me another chance,” he admits. “I thought I had ruined my chance with you when I pulled back that day… You had every right to be upset with me. I—”
“Shh. I understood and I understand. There’s nothing to forgive.” I place a finger on his lips, not wanting painful memories of that day to cloud this golden moment. This is now and now is all there is. Now has never felt brighter, sharper, or more vibrant.
My heart seems to beat harder, my skin is tingling, and my senses more acute: the scent of lavender on the air, Anton’s own musky scent that makes me want to bury my nose in his chest and inhale long and deep, the faint blackcurrant taste of kir from his kisses, and the delicate friction of my lace underwear between my legs and against my erect nipples.
Everything is more. Brighter, sharper, and more vibrant. I drink it all in, impressing every detail on my mind so today will remain a vivid technicolour memory to be replayed when needed. If needed. I’m not going to think beyond tonight for now.
I undo the buttons of Anton’s shirt, then slide my hands inside, running them over the muscled chest covered with thick, dark hair. A hairy chest is something I find to be a personal turn-on.
He pulls my T-shirt up over my head and I’m glad I wore my best lacy pink bra. His eyes gleam with appreciation as he reverently runs a finger over the skin of my soft, creamy breasts just above the lacy cups. I arch my back, an unconscious gesture that pushes my breasts towards him. I am so hungry for more, to feel his fingers and his lips on my bare breasts. To feel his tongue on my nipples as he sucks me hard. My breasts have always been sensitive and I know with the right amount of focussed attention he could tease me to the point of orgasm from breast play alone.
Hopefully we’ll have many more occasions like tonight and this will be something he’ll come to discover.
I stand still as he reaches behind to unhook the bra clasp, pulling the straps down from my shoulders and letting the bra fall away.
He cups my heavy breasts and I sigh contentedly as he then lightly pulls at my nipples. Sharp ripples of sexual arousal shoot through my breasts and awaken a corresponding ache between my legs.
I lean in closer, lips parted, wanting to kiss more and keen to feel my bare breasts against his chest. Skin on skin. Wanting to feel his strong arms around me.
Savouring what’s to come.
I fumble with the fly of his jeans while he more expertly undoes my shorts button so he can pull them down over my hips. As they fall down to my feet, they reveal matching lacy pink knickers.
Yes, I wore matching underwear, just in case… In a very quiet, trying not to tempt fate that things might go very well kind of way. After all, I’ve been craving this ever since that first kiss and I knew if the opportunity came up I’d grasp it joyfully. I’ve also been taking my birth control pills. There’s no harm in being prepared.
I feel a little shy standing here in only my best knickers, aware of Anton’s close but appreciative scrutiny. I’m hungry to feel the weight of him on top of me, his cock buried deep inside me. I can’t think of anywhere I’d rather be right now or anything I’d rather be doing.
We move to the bed. It’s not a practised, choreographed move but it’s not exactly awkward either. Just natural. Comfortable.
I feel odd to be so completely comfortable being naked with Anton already. I am reasonably confident in my body and my sexuality but to feel so completely at home naked and to be so immersed in the intimacy between us just feels right. We are connected, Anton and I, and I’m both at peace and alive with the anticipation and excitement of what’s to come.
Anton has stripped down to black trunks and he beckons me to come closer towards him where he stands at the edge of the bed. Together we sink down into an embrace, an intimate tangle of limbs.
Anton strokes my breasts, my stomach, and my hips. I hook a leg over his thigh so he can stroke between my legs. The friction of the lace against my bare skin is delicious as he rubs me expertly. Expertly enough to get me wriggling and sighing with pleasure.
I reach a hand between us so I can repay the gesture, stroking his erection through the jersey fabric of his shorts, gently squeezing and feeling gratified as his cock hardens even more in response. He exhales loudly and hooks his fingers beneath the elastic of my knickers, pulling them down and off me. I don’t even notice where they end up but I tug at his boxers and he helps me pull them down and off so we’re completely naked.
Anton kisses me, slowly and sensuously, his hands wrapped in my hair creating a delicious tension, an awareness of his strength yet combined with such a beautiful sense of his tenderness. Such a powerful combination in a man – gentleness and strength. I press my bare breasts against his chest again and lose myself in returning his kisses, feeling the tide of sexual energy rising, flooding and overwhelming us both.
With my leg hooked over his thigh he has perfect access to resume his attentions between my legs.
“Hmm, that feels so good,” I sigh contentedly as he fingers me, spreading my growing wetness over my clit. The intimacy fulfils a deep need in me, for the kind of life-affirming connection that’s been absent from my life for so long.
