Anything But Vanilla

ANYTHING BUT VANILLA

Madelynne Ellis

Table of Contents

Title Page

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

More from Mischief

About Mischief

Copyright

About the Publisher

CHAPTER ONE

If she’d thought about it, then it might have happened differently. Kara didn’t think. She acted. That was why she stood crushed against the railing bordering the canal with her knickers around her ankles. The sweet caress of cool air barely had time to stir against her skin before two warm fingers had replaced it. A thumb swept the line of her slit, driving her up on to toes that were already squashed into ultra-high heels. Hell, that was good. Relief swept through her muscles, replacing the tension there with sweet, sweet bellyache. She needed this. Needed it so much she was hard pressed not to grab hold of his hand and mash the whole lot against her clit. Instead, she writhed against the tease, determined to manipulate his fingers into the exact spot she needed them.

‘Eager for this, aren’t you?’ She felt his smile rather than saw it, as he mouthed along the edge of her jaw. He had an interesting smile, a bit too big and more than a little wolfish. It was that grin that made her pause long enough to accept the drink he offered her, and then to accept being tugged out on to the dance floor, where they’d bumped and ground their way into companionable bliss. When they’d walked outside, it hadn’t mattered who led, or that they’d practically spoken in monosyllables all night. Thumping club hits tended to transform anything more eloquent into a series of ‘eh?’s and ‘what?’s. Body language was key. Body language was all that mattered now.

‘Less talk,’ Kara barked. There’d been too much talk in her life the last few days. She drove her mouth hard against his lips, ready to worship their generous curves. His perfect cupid’s bow moulded to her wide mouth with charming precision. In response, he pressed into her, connecting them from chest to shin save for a little space occupied by his questing hand.

Back and forth, his thumb continued to sweep, until her moisture coated his fingers and turned the motion into a glide. She might be insane for this, but by God he knew how to treat her right. Her clit perked up, hard as a nut, until it was peeping from between the lips of her pussy all desperate for some direct action rather than the elusive pulls on the skin around it.

‘Oh, now what have we here?’ Mirth flashed from the depths of his eyes as he circled her pearl as though he were drawing a thread around it. ‘Could it be I’ve found something important?’

Oh, lord! He’d found it all right. Damn, it was almost too sweet to tolerate.

Intense arousal flushed Kara’s face. Her own need was a metallic taste in her mouth, sharp and bitter like freshly cut lime. Her nipples poked up against the fabric of her dress, desperate for a share of the action.

Jack – was it Jack? She’d never really caught his name over the pounding bass inside the club – cupped one breast. He mouthed the nipple through her dress and bra until all that remained of her was ache and need.

‘Enough with the tease.’

His eyes shone with the fact that he was on to a winner. ‘What tease would that be?’ The devil slid two fingers into her as he spoke, provoking a groan. ‘I’m sure you wouldn’t want me to be lazy.’

‘What I want,’ she said smiling back at him, ‘is for you to put that pretty mouth of yours to better use.’

‘Yeah?’ His wing-like eyebrows briefly lifted. The quick flicker of boyish adulation in his eyes was ridiculously endearing.

Kara wrenched aside the materials covering her breast and guided his head into place. His breath tickled her skin first, then the tip of his tongue, before he fell to working the whole nipple. ‘Yes, yes, just there. Harder,’ she insisted, as she wove her fingers into the back of his hair. With a mouth this good, no way was she letting him escape. She could only imagine how his mobile lips and that tongue would feel against her clit. As it was, a spark stream now connected her nipple to her cunt, where his hand continued to work. Hell, much more of this and he’d bring her off before he ever got anything out of it.

Jack seemed to realise that too. He shook his head to dislodge her grip and shifted his feet so that he could rub up against her hip. She supposed it was quite a subtle move in the scheme of things; there was certainly something enticing about having him writhe against her like that. His erection lay like a sturdy brand behind his fly, already one hundred per cent ready to satisfy. It had to be uncomfortable all caged up like that, which just made her like him all the more for not taking his hands off her to ease his own discomfort.

‘Let me,’ Kara insisted. She might be many things, fricking crazy, jobless, homeless as of 7.30 this morning and tipsy as fuck, but to her way of thinking sex was definitely about give and take. Otherwise you might as well cosy up with a vibe and a good book.

Jack made no protest. She grabbed him hard around the arse, grinned in delight as his muscles tightened. He was tall and big-boned, but sleek as a panther beneath his black jeans and equally black top. The sort of man whom you could imagine creeping across the rooftops as a cat burglar or delivering boxes of Milk Tray. Not the sort of rogue that normally wetted her knickers. Fuck, but he tasted more delicious than any chocolate, peppery and citrous, mingled with the sharp tang of salt. It took a moment to release his buckle, less time to open his fly and expose his cock. Kara palmed him through his briefs, teasing him in the way he’d tormented her.

She couldn’t keep it up, much as she wanted to make him sweat. She was too antsy and he was already close, that much was evident from the sharp noise he made in the back of his throat when her fist tightened around his shaft. The reflection of the fairy lights strung from the trees lining the quayside glinted in the depths of his eyes. She watched their sparkle a moment, until his eyelids drooped. ‘You got something?’

His eyes snapped open immediately. ‘Back pocket. Think you can reach it?’

She copped another good feel of his butt as she wrestled the foil from his pocket.

‘Want to do the honours?’ he asked.

‘You betcha.’ She was going to go stark raving crazy if she didn’t get him inside her soon. Jack – Jack who was showing the first traces of a shadow around his jaw and who was going to feel fucking amazing inside her.

Jack sagged against her shoulder as she split the wrapper. The curve of his lips clove to the pulse point in her neck. He nibbled, began to suck. Damn! Kara bit her lip. It was difficult to concentrate when he was distracting her like that. Still, she took her time dressing him. She liked that he didn’t rush her, which meant she got to explore his whole length as she rolled the sheath into place. His cock curved sabre-like towards his body. He was uncut, the skin drawn back like a collar around the silky-smooth tip. A small tattoo of a pentacle occupied the space just below his right hip, the ink dark against the white of his skin. If there was time and somewhere comfortable – if, if, if. She wanted to explore him more thoroughly, get him properly naked. Suddenly it was important to see if the brown thatch of hair around his groin extended upwards. She followed the silky trail to his navel, shoved his ribbed T-shirt out of the way to see the rest. Golden-brown hairs circled his nipples and filled all the space between. Beneath that sign of masculinity he was tautly muscled and every bit as sleek as his outfit suggested. Part of her actually longed to step back and admire him. If she commanded him to stay would he do it? Would he stand exposed against the iron railings, with the dark, mirrored surface of the canal behind him, and let her gorge herself on the visual feast of him? Hairy men turned her on. It didn’t matter if was an unruly mass of curls upon a man’s head or just thick tawny hairs upon his arms. There was something exciting about a man with some body hair, particularly a good-looking one. So many of them shaved or waxed.

She was so done with Mr Metrosexual.

Jack, perhaps sensing a growing distance between them, shimmied right up close to her, and bent his head so they were looking into one another’s eyes on a level. ‘Ready?’

Like hell they were, she had no idea how they were going to accomplish anything in this position.

‘Hold yourself on the railings.’

Kara grasped the blue-painted metal. She gave a screech and a giggle as Jack hoisted her off her feet and dealt with her knickers. She guessed she was going home bare as they floated away on the canal. She wrapped her legs around him as he lined them up. They were in a public place, but there was nothing coy about his actions. No hesitation and definitely no embarrassment as his cock bucked eagerly at her entrance. That lack made her cheeks colour a little for both of them.

‘Tell me.’ He held them mere millimetres apart. ‘Tell me exactly how you want it.’

Was he a talker, or just making sure he stayed out of trouble? She could hardly cry coercion if she’d begged him for it.

Kara squeezed around his hips with her thighs, dragging them a fraction closer together. ‘I want you to fuck me.’

‘No – I never would have guessed that.’

Sarky bugger. Shit! He’d probably drop her over the railings into the canal if she admitted any of the stuff in her head, like visions of nipple clamps and chaining him to the railings. Surely the only things that mattered here were that he turned her on and she needed him. The whys and wherefores were irrelevant; the bounty of her inner life more so.

‘Nothing more than that to say?’ he queried, lifting one of his wing-like brows again. ‘You just want me to slide up and fill your cunt.’ The way he said cunt made her literally ache with need. ‘You’re not after anything flashy, just a straight hard fuck.’ He delivered as he punctuated the last word, filling her up so completely it took her body a moment to respond to the shock. Heavenly didn’t come close to describing it. It just felt right – so goddamned incredibly right. She clamped tight to his body as he drew back to give her what she’d apparently asked for. ‘You know, I’m kind of surprised. I never took you to be such a vanilla kind of girl.’

He was right. She so wasn’t. What sort of strait-laced girl fucked a stranger up against the backdrop of the murky canal? Why had it taken her so long to admit that to herself, instead of constantly trying to be good?

‘So why don’t you tell me what really gets you off? Shall I pretend I’m a vampire and sink my teeth in? Do you like a fingertip in your arse?’

‘Hold me tighter.’ Their position meant they were already pretty much jammed together with no space between. Kara bent her head to his ear. She mouthed around the lobe before breathing the words. ‘Come and then I want to lick you clean.’

The muscles in his face tightened into a grin, and then he picked up her and the pace again, pounding into her like it was a race they had to win.

Kara continued to mouth the side of his neck where the skin was thinnest and his pulse raced just below the surface. He was slippery and hard between her thighs. Her clit, already prepped by his earlier teasing, shot out darts of pleasure each time he made a forward thrust. Why wasn’t it always this good? Why could she only get this sort of relief with a stranger in a seedy venue? Why hadn’t her life worked out, and did that matter when she could get sex this good?

‘Ooohh!’ The buzz built and suddenly burst. She screamed, panted, scored a few lines across his back. He continued to fill her up the whole while, until the moment passed and she realised he was still hard and hadn’t come.

Kara shook herself free of his arms. She knelt down on the quayside. Took a little risk – what the heck – and closed her mouth over the length of him. She’d said she was going to lick him clean. Well, instead she was going to suck him off.

The plan met with no resistance from Jack. Nah, his knees buckled a bit, but he had some handy railings to cling to, which was good, because she wasn’t letting him go. He tasted too nice: part her, part him, the whole ridiculously sexy.

Kara steadied herself, with one palm flat against his inner thigh, the other wrapped around the base of his cock. She liked that he wasn’t too long. He was nicely proportioned and she got one hell of a kick out of roving her tongue over the flare of the head and tickling the sweet spot just below the eye. When he started trying to claw at her hair in order to drag her closer, she worked with the roll of his hips.

‘You’re good at this. Oh, sweetheart.’ His knuckles were white against the vivid blue railing.

‘Are you going to come?’ she asked, grinning up at him in a facetious manner.

‘So close.’

They were back to the depth of discourse they’d shared inside the club. ‘I want to watch.’ Actually, not just watch. She wanted to watch and do. Kara rose and stood beside him with her back to the railing. She cupped his length with one hand and shoved her other hand inside her skirt so that she could rub herself in time with the thrust of his cock through the ring of her fingers. The low-level spark of her previous orgasm rekindled immediately. They almost raced. Who could cross the finish line first? Who could ejaculate the furthest? OK, he won hands down on that one. He was beautiful as he came, his face kind of screwed up and tortured looking, eyes closed, teeth gritted, as if he was doing something painful or hideous. Yet in those few moments he belonged to her totally.

Jack opened his eyes and stared at her. ‘You’re a dirty minx,’ he scoffed as he watched her give in to a minor explosion. The second big O of the day just never lived up to the first. Then he hitched up his jeans and tucked his cock out of sight. ‘Got somewhere to go?’ he asked. By which he meant: let’s continue this somewhere more comfortable.

‘Yeah – yeah, I have. I’m good.’ She dropped a kiss upon the tip of his nose, backed off, then returned to press another to those delicious lips of his. Then Kara was off, trotting across the tarmac back towards the club. She couldn’t face an awkward parting in the morning; better that they went separate ways now. And she definitely wasn’t looking for a relationship. No way. Not for a good long time.

‘Hey, where are you going?’ He moved forward as if he were about to jog after her.

Kara laughed and waved. ‘Back to my wedding party.’ She hoped he got the emphasis on my. The girls were probably scouring the dance floor for her by now. Being tipsy and high on the aftermath of awesome sex meant she could just about tolerate the thought of being found. As far as celebrations went, this one sucked, and sucked in a truly pointless, ridiculous way. It wasn’t a hen night, a point on which she’d had to correct several people. It was the fill-in party for what ought to have been her wedding night and an orgy load of sex in a hotel room before jetting off to Hawaii. Only Gavin David ‘Tosspot’ Covey had gone and ruined that by being a clingy control freak who insisted on knowing her whereabouts 24/7. More importantly, instead of apologising when she’d called the wedding off, he’d gawped at her in horror over the deposits they’d lose. No way was she signing up for a lifetime with him. She hoped the plane carrying him and Gemma – you are so not my best friend considering how fast you jumped in to console him – over the Atlantic was hit by lightning and dropped out of the sky. It seemed appropriate punishment somehow, except that she didn’t want to hurt anyone else on board so maybe they’d have to accidentally fall out of an open door or something.

Damn! And now her good mood was gone. Time to reinstate it with alcohol. A lone tear trickled down her face as she slipped back into the nightclub via the fire exit. At least she’d just had the most glorious sex she’d had in months, far better than that painting-by-numbers crap she’d been enduring with Gavin.

‘Hey, Kara, there you are.’ Her sister clamped a hand tight around her arm. ‘You’ve about thirty drinks lined up.’

She hoped that was Karen’s usual exaggeration.

‘Come and play catch up.’

* * *

Kara woke disoriented in an unfamiliar room. Sunlight so bright she could barely open her eyes flooded in through sheet-glass walls that surrounded her on three sides. Where the hell? For a horrible moment she feared she’d taken up some fool on his offer and ended up in his bed. Only there didn’t appear to be anyone beside her. Kara shook her head to try and dislodge the grogginess. Slowly her vision corrected. Karen’s place – she was in her sister’s conservatory, huddled beneath a throw on the garden swing they’d brought inside for the winter. No wonder nausea bubbled in her stomach like she’d swallowed poison. She’d been swinging in a hammock all night, and she was always travel sick.

The wail of her phone that had woken her compounded the ache in her head. Kara flailed around and eventually wrestled it out from the pile of discarded clothes she must have torn off in the dark. Not Gavin, she prayed, as she unlocked the phone screen. She never wanted to speak to him again. She’d already deleted his number but that was no guarantee that he’d done the same.

Christopher, the caller ID flashed up. ‘What do you want, baby brother?’ she croaked. Her throat was drier than a carton of crispy fried squid.

‘Oh good, you are still alive.’

Kara resisted the urge to tell him to fuck the hell off and opted instead to swallow the water she’d had foresight enough to bring to bed with her last night, but not wits enough left at the time to drink. Didn’t he realise she was off limits today, pre-booked for wallowing in a post-my-wedding-didn’t-happen party haze?

‘I heard a rumour that you and Karen crawled in around dawn.’

Fell, was more accurate. They’d only crawled after they tripped over the doormat. Thinking of which, boy, did her knees ache. Karen really needed to get a rug to put over those tiles. ‘What did you want?’ While it was entirely possible he’d called merely to be vindictive, even that couldn’t explain the hint of excitement in her brother’s voice.

‘I got the job.’ He gave a pause so she could make appropriate noises. ‘I’m off to New Zealand for twenty-six weeks to work on that sci-fi flick I’ve been talking about. Plus, I’m focus puller not clapper loader.’

Kara pulled a cushion over her head and settled down again. The pillow smelled faintly musty, like a caravan that had been locked up for too long. However, it did allow her to open her eyes without being dazzled. The conservatory had already reached temperate and was headed for blistering within another forty minutes or so. ‘Does that mean you get to operate the camera rather than just load the film?’ she asked. Chris had explained the various camera-related roles dozens of times, but she’d never yet assimilated the facts beyond something to do with angles, trajectories and making the images crisper. ‘That’s wonderful! Great news.’ Faking exuberance only compounded her headache. ‘Couldn’t you have waited until this evening to tell me?’

‘Oh, are you hung over?’ he crowed. ‘And no, it couldn’t wait.’ The line crackled and she guessed he was in the car on loudspeaker. ‘I’ve a flight to catch. I’m on my way to the airport now, and you haven’t heard the best bit yet.’

An enormous yawn stretched Kara’s jaw as she closed her eyes and tried to relax her brain while she waited to make appropriate ‘wow’ noises over whichever major star he was going to be working with. Unless he was about to offer her a job as chief pamperer to Johnny Depp and throw in a ticket to New Zealand, this absolutely could have waited.

‘You know that place I was looking at,’ Christopher said instead, which surprised her into jolting upright, and caused the swing to start rocking. Kara bounced against the cushions and dry heaved.

‘I didn’t get it, but it’s OK, because I found somewhere else that’s twice as good.’

‘That’s great,’ she said. Somehow she managed to disentangle one foot from the throw and place it on the floor, thus bringing the swing to a tremulous halt. ‘So, you’ve bought a house but you’re flying to New Zealand.’ Hopeless timing was obviously a genetically wired family trait.

‘It’s a barn rather than a house, and it’s on an island.’

‘You mean like Lindisfarne or the Isle of Wight?’

‘Nah, smaller. More like St Michael’s Mount only with fewer tourists. It’s called Liddell Island. It’s less than a mile across.’

‘Where’s that?’

‘It’s just off the coast.’

Well, duh, she’d figured that. Where else was it going to be? She couldn’t see him moving to the Norfolk Broads.

‘Listen, K. I’ve got all the paperwork done. I just need you to pick up the keys for me. You’ll do that, right? You don’t mind.’

Of course she did. She’d rather not get out of bed today. Although, considering how much said bed kept moving, rising might not be such a bad plan. ‘Yes, I’ll do it. Just tell me where.’ She gave a sigh.

‘Thanks, Kara. Look, it needs a bit of work. I figured you could hang out there and fix it up while I’m away.’

She ought to have known there’d be more to this than just collecting some keys. Chris had a talent for layering things. He’d get you to agree to one thing and next thing you knew you were signed up for a month of hell. She was about to turn him down when he uttered the magic words. ‘I’ll pay you.’ That put an entirely different spin on things. Decorating was hardly her favourite pastime, but … ‘It has to be better than hanging out at Karen’s or going back to mum’s, right?’ Exactly, anything, bar being locked in a room with Gavin, was better than occupying a room in the family home. And since she was homeless – having sold her place to live with Gavin – and jobless – plain old economic downturn – this was likely the best offer coming her way.

‘All right. I said I’d do it. Give me some directions and tell me where to get the keys from.’ She jotted down some notes on the edge of the TV guide as Chris went through the details.

‘You’ll need to check the tide timetable before you make the crossing. The causeway floods at high tide for several hours. Once you’re on the island, you pick the keys up from Alaric Liddell at the fort.’

‘Little of Little Island,’ she joked.

‘Liddell,’ Chris corrected.

‘Yeah, I got it.’ Kara grimaced at the phone. ‘The Liddell king of the castle.’

On the other end of the line, Chris huffed. ‘Now you’re just being silly. Besides, it’s a fort, not a castle. Don’t you know the difference? I thought you did history.’

‘Evidently I missed the lesson on forts.’ Just as he’d missed the lesson on humour. ‘Is there anything else I need to know?’

‘Not that I can think of. Listen, I’m coming up to the turnoff for the airport. Skype me about the house and what needs doing and I’ll transfer you the money. Try and get there without flushing the car away. Talk to you later.’

‘Will do. Bye.’

He hung up without muttering a corresponding farewell.

‘Was that Chris?’ Karen wafted in straight from the shower smelling of lime and carrying two mugs of tea. She passed one over to Kara. ‘I had to get up. Mum phoned to nag me about you. She wants you over there later so you can have a talk. She’s still pissed off at you about the wedding.’