Driving Me to Christmas (London Loves Book 5) Page 4

  She quickly removed her jeans, throwing them on the table. Then she strutted over to stand between his thighs. His hands instinctively grabbed her hips.

  “Fuck, you’re hot.”

  She smiled. “Thank you.”

  She bent at the waist, tipping her breasts in his face and sticking her ass out behind her. She felt strong and sexy, and she knew she was driving Verlaine wild.

  He licked her nipple then sucked it gently. Sam had been known to climax from this alone and, from the way her head was swirling now, today was possibly one of those days.

  But she wanted him to enjoy this, too. She pulled away and turned around so his face was level with her butt. She bent again, offering her ass to him. He reached up and eased her panties down at the back – then she felt his tongue lick between her buttocks, down over her rim, and into the back of her pussy. He reached his hand around and gently rubbed her clit through the moist cotton at the front of her panties, continuing to give her oral from behind.

  Sam’s knees buckle with the pleasure, so she stood straight then turned to face him. She glanced down and saw how desperately his cock wanted her – it was seeping with pre-cum and straining at full length.

  She pretended to be coy. “Do you want me to sit on your lap?”

  Verlaine grasped both her hips and gently tugged her towards him, kissing her stomach and fondling her ass. Sam panted hungrily, running her fingers through his curls. He raised his head and threw her a sizzling look as he peeled off her panties – slowly pulling them down until they dropped around her ankles. Sam kissed possessively down on him, then stepped to the side, so she could throw her leg over his lap as if she was mounting a motorcycle.

  She lowered herself down, so that the tip of his cock was inside her, then she slid herself all the way over him, relishing the amazing sensation of him filling her up. This was Sam’s favourite position, and she always came hard and fast from here. She wrapped her legs around his hips, then leaned forward and kissed Verlaine passionately, rocking herself and getting into a sensuous rhythm. Verlaine pulled her hips down and ground her pelvis into his, rubbing her clit on his pubic bone and her G-spot with his cock. His strong biceps bulged as his firm hands swayed her hips in a frantic rhythm, so Sam allowed him to take over and grind her into a frenzy. Time became heavy and reality started to warp. She panted, feeling her mind swim with wonderful dizziness, which suddenly exploded into an all-consuming orgasm that forced her to grin and groan, as her body dissolved into the surroundings and her mind filled with only joy.

  She slowly came back to earth again, and she opened her eyes and giggled. Verlaine was gazing at her as if she was magical.

  “That was amazing,” she whispered, realising she sounded stoned.

  He kissed her tenderly on the nose. “You’re so beautiful. I love to watch you come.”

  Sam collapsed forward and draped her arms around his shoulders. “I love you.”

  He turned his head and they gazed lovingly into each other’s eyes. Sam had never understood why sex had such a sordid and sinful reputation, when it was the most magnificent feeling which bonded her with her beloved.

  Sam ran her fingers through his hair. “I’d better finish making the dinner! Shall we stay in tonight; I can’t be bothered to go down the pub.”

  “Good idea. We can stay in and watch the game.”

  Laughter burst out of Sam. She eased herself off Verlaine’s lap and ruffled up his hair. “No, we’re not watching the game! Not when we can make our own entertainment and play our own games. How does that sound?”

  Verlaine grinned. “Sounds much better than football! Come on, let’s make the dinner together.”

  Chapter Five

  Sam pulled her coat around herself and gazed out the window as Verlaine drove them through the country lanes of Essex. She loved the seaside but she’d never been here in December before, and it was startling – like seeing through the illusion of Christmas and realising that goodwill to all humanity only applied to a lucky few. The scenery outside was dull, lifeless, and desolate today. The brilliant blue sky contrasted starkly with the bare spiky trees, giving a sense of foreboding in the weak winter sunshine. Sam craved to see the green leaves of springtime, which always filled her heart with hope.

  It was cold in this old car. And it bumped uncomfortably along the road because of the 1950s suspension, giving her a headache. Or perhaps the bumpy ride was because the roads around here were so bad. Sam knew she ought to be used to bouncing around in crappy ancient cars by now, because whenever Verlaine finished restoring a car, Gemma always encouraged him to take it for a test drive. Today it was the turn of the Ford Thunderbird. It was like sitting inside a 1950s American diner – it was all red and shiny, with big leather seats and kitsch chrome fittings. It felt luxurious and powerful; stylish and muscular. And it certainly lived up to its ostentatious name. It cried out for attention like an insecure supermodel – the engine was loud and intrusive. Sam was sure everyone could hear them coming for miles around. Not that there was anyone around on this deserted coastal road.

  Sam watched as Verlaine’s gorgeous fingers gripped the steering wheel. It was arousing watching him drive. She had visions of them pulling over and making love in the huge back seats. She chuckled as she imagined Verlaine halfway through the business saying, “Don’t forget, honey, the upholstery in here’s real leather, not vinyl.”

  “What’s funny?” he asked.

  “Oh, nothing. I’ve never driven a left-hand drive before – is it easy?”

  “Sure. You wanna give it a go?”

  “Not on this steep cliff!”

  “Okay, maybe on the way back down, huh?”

  “Hmm, maybe not.”

  Sam rubbed her hands together, trying to keep warm.

  “You alright, honey?” Verlaine asked.

  “Yeah. Just cold.”

  He grinned. “I’ll warm you up later.”

  She smiled. “I’m looking forward to going to the party tonight.”

  He threw her dubious look. “I’m still not sure about that.”

  “Verlaine! You said you’d go!”

  “I know, but isn’t it impolite to leave my parents when they’ve only just arrived?”

  “We’re gonna spend the whole day with them today. And Christmas. Please, Verlaine. I’ve wanted to go to one of these parties for ages. Please? You don’t wanna miss out on Santa’s knee, do you?”

  He sighed, then chuckled. “Alright, baby. You know I can’t say no to you.”

  “Thank you!”

  She leaned over and kissed him. “By the way, I’ve got a little surprise in the back – I bought some nice lingerie when I was with Scott!”

  “Awesome! I can’t wait to see you in it!”

  “I can’t wait for you to help me remove it!”

  “Me too – I’ll use my teeth!”

  Sam giggled, but pushed away her arousal for now. “I also got your mum a little present, but it’s obviously not underwear!”

  “Good!”

  “It’s a silk scarf – really pretty. It’ll keep her warm out here in the countryside. I’ll give it to her when we arrive, as an early Christmas present.”

  “She’ll like that. See how kind you are? Just like I was saying yesterday.”

  “Anyone would do it.”

  Verlaine shook his head at her modesty, then he threw his concentration back over the winding road.

  Sam touched the cold window and took in the winter scenery. It was amazing that all this was only an hour’s drive out of London. They were cruising along the coastal road at the moment, which was flanked by a field that stretched back to the horizon. There were ponies in the field, and a scrubby patch of wild grass. Sam’s stomach twisted with nerves. What was it going to be like meeting Rebecca?

  This road ran parallel with the grey sea below and, as Sam glanced out of Verlaine’s window, she saw how rough the water was today. The sandy beach looked damp and desolate. The cliff they were
climbing fell away to a sheer drop, and Sam suddenly felt insecure. The waves crashed hard below and there was no fence to prevent them from plunging over if Verlaine swerved unexpectedly. Sam was grateful he was such a good driver. Her life was in his hands. It was sunny today, but what if there was a storm? Driving would be impossible. And they’d be stranded with his relations...

  Verlaine slowed the car as the road widened out to a junction ahead. He pulled them heavily around a sharp bend, then approached a long driveway. “This is the place.”

  “This is your childhood Christmas venue?”

  “Yep.”

  The black iron gates opened automatically, and Sam stared at the mansion that stood at the end of a gravel driveway like a horror movie model. The grey stone bricks seemed to rise organically out of the lawn, and the pitched roof swept up steeply to the blue sky, protected by turrets and steel girders. Sam expected to see the ghostly apparitions of the long-dead residents floating past the huge windows. And perhaps an atmospheric bolt of lightning would strike the iron spire. Even though it was a lovely sunny day, this six-bedroom Victorian manor sent a creepy shiver up Sam’s spine. It was dominating and timeless. She knew this building would be here much longer than she would be – as if it was actually growing out of the cliff. As if it was alive.

  Sam caught a glimpse of three people loitering outside the house, looking like the Lord and Lady waiting to greet their city guests. But it was actually Verlaine’s parents – Patty and Jim. Sam liked Patty – she reminded her of Verlaine; she was a lovely lady – kind and relaxed, with cropped brown hair and a pragmatic approach to life. Verlaine’s dad, Jim, was an all-American guy who ran his own haulage company. He was tall and strong, and a little overweight. Sam had no idea whether he still sported a full head of hair, because he always wore a baseball cap. He’d started out as a mechanic, too, and done well, but he’d never lost his working-class roots. Sam got the feeling Jim had dreams of Verlaine following in his footsteps and starting his own business in the car trade. But Verlaine was happy working with his hands. He wasn’t the sort of guy to be straight-jacketed into a desk job. It would crush him. Probably as it had crushed Jim.

  Sam peered past Verlaine’s parents, and realised that the other person with them must be Rebecca. Even from here Sam could see she was tall and slender; pretty and well-groomed. Her brown hair was immaculate and straight, which probably took hours to perfect, as well as a small fortune to maintain. Sam’s hair was wavy, and she hardly spent any time on it at all. She reached up and twisted her long tresses through her fingers, hoping to curl them into some sort of style.

  The three Americans turned to face the noisy car, and Verlaine threw them a wave, which enticed them over. He parked and climbed out to greet his mum who hugged him tightly. Sam clambered out onto the chilly gravel driveway, feeling like a spare part. She suddenly felt shy, and she stood protectively behind the open car door, using it like a shield. Verlaine inadvertently turned his back on Sam, as he draped his arm over Patty’s shoulders to make way for a father/son handshake with Jim.

  Jim patted him heartily on the shoulder. “Great to see you, son.”

  It was cold standing out here and Sam wanted to go inside to get some tea, but she didn’t feel confident enough to speak; so she loitered behind the open car door, watching as Rebecca squealed and threw her arms around Verlaine. Rebecca was dressed in tight-fitting jeans and an expensive designer jacket. Sam felt scruffy and cheap in her tracksuit pants and duffle coat. Self-consciousness dug into her as she stood there alone, watching everyone else so happy and emotional. She wanted her mum. She wanted Scott to tell her how amazing he thought she was. It was like one of those bad dreams where you’ve gone onstage and forgotten your lines and everyone’s staring at you. Except, of course, no one was taking any notice of Sam at all.

  Eventually, Verlaine started to turn towards her, so she stood tall and smiled, ready to say hello.

  Her heart dissolved into mush as Verlaine said, “Well, Bex, what do you think of the T-bird?”

  Rebecca squealed excitedly again. “It’s awesome, Verlaine! What is it, fifty-eight?”

  “Nine,” he said.

  Sam watched as Verlaine reached inside the driver’s door and popped the hood. He strode around and opened it, then peered inside, as if the meaning of life might be found in there.

  Verlaine, Jim, and Rebecca started to chat about the ‘awesome’ car, so Patty broke away and stepped over to greet Sam.

  In a nervous panic to please her future mother-in-law, Sam quickly slammed the car door, almost trapping Patty’s arm as she reached out to hug her. Sam giggled nervously and then hugged Patty gratefully.

  “Nice to see you, Patty.”

  “Oh, Sam, it’s wonderful to see you, honey! You’re looking well! How’s business going? You still working with Paul?”

  “Yeah. I guess it could be going better. But we’ll get there.”

  “Aw, sure you will. And how’s your sister? Verlaine said she’s almost due! I’m really looking forward to spending some time with you over the next few days – I know Christmas can be hard for you since you lost your parents, you poor girl.”

  Sam smiled thinly. “Yeah. It can be.”

  “Oh, you’re such a quiet thing, aren’t you? You must think Americans are so brash, but I’ve lived there since I was a teenager, and honestly, they’re some of the sweetest people you could ever hope to meet! Moving to Michigan was the best thing that ever happened to me – much better than staying here in stuffy old England!”

  Sam was only half-listening; her eyes were glued to Verlaine and Rebecca. They were chatting now like reunited best friends – which they sort of were. They’d grown up together in Michigan, and apparently both sets of parents had always assumed they’d end up together. And it seemed Rebecca was a car nut – something Verlaine had failed to mention.

  “Where’s Rebecca’s mum?” Sam asked, for something to say.

  “Oh, she’s just gone off to make a phone call,” Patty said. “Business, you know. She’s a great businesswoman – real estate. Always working.”

  Sam’s attention was grasped as Rebecca squealed for a third time. “Disc brakes rather than drum brakes? Awesome!”

  “Yeah,” Verlaine said, “and all original parts. Three-ninety-four barrel!”

  “Wow, plenty of power,” Rebecca said. “I heard her roaring like thunder when you arrived.”

  “She sure does sound great. And all the internal lights are fully functioning – the door lights, the foot-well lights, everything. It took me hours of love to restore this baby.”

  Rebecca grinned, making her perfect cheeks dimple. “You restored this car?”

  “Sure did. It’s my job.”

  “Cool job!”

  “Yeah, I love it.”

  “What’s the mileage on this beauty, son?” Jim asked.

  “Only sixty-K, can you believe it!”

  “Jeez,” Jim said. “Like a dream.”

  Rebecca touched it as if it was sacred. “What’s the asking price?”

  “Gemma wants forty grand, sterling.”

  Rebecca frowned. “Who’s Gemma?”

  “My boss.”

  The mention of Gemma seemed to cause something to click inside Verlaine, and he glanced over, remembering he had a girlfriend. “Hey, Sam, come round here and meet Bex.”

  Rebecca noticed Sam for the first time and shot her a look of irritation, as if she and Verlaine had been instructed to take their kid sister to the movies. The chilly air became even colder as they made eye contact.

  Sam crunched over and stood in front of her. “Hello. Nice to meet you.”

  Rebecca inspected her, then she offered an immaculately manicured hand, which didn’t look like it’d changed a tyre in its life. “Likewise.”

  She gazed into Sam’s eyes, scrutinising her with an expression that suggested she planned to expose Sam’s dark soul to the world. She swallowed, trying not to allow Rebecca to intimidate he
r. She just wanted them to get along, and for it to be New Year as soon as possible.

  Jim jovially cut in. “Great to see you, Sammy!”

  “Yeah, you too, Jim.”

  “You still working with Paul? How’s business?”

  “It could be better. But we’ll get there.”

  Jim snorted. “Yeah, Verlaine said he was the one bringing home the bacon at the moment.”

  “Dad, I did not say that!”

  Jim sniggered. “It’s not too good for our little feminist Sam, huh? You’d better start earning some money if you wanna be a true woman’s libber!”

  Patty tutted. “Stop it, Jim.”

  Sam threw him a tight smile. “Yes, well, Paul and I are working as hard as we can to make our business a success.”

  Jim draped his arm playfully around her, almost knocking her sideways. “Gosh you’re a tiny thing, aren’t you? By the way, did you bring your shotgun?”

  “My shotgun?”

  “Yeah. We were gonna go out shooting pheasants this afternoon – you know how we Americans love our guns!”

  Sam stared at him. “Oh, er, I don’t think… I’m not sure I could shoot something.”

  Verlaine rolled his eyes. “He’s joking, honey.”

  Sam’s insides writhed with humiliation as everyone laughed. She forced herself to laugh too, rubbing her hands over her upper-arms to hint that she was cold and wanted to go indoors.

  “Seriously, though,” Jim said. “I’m hoping to do a touch of sightseeing later and I hope you kids’ll join us. There’s the gunpowder mill, the police museum, and the war aerodrome. I’ve been dying to see those again for a while now.”

  Sam chuckled. “Yeah, ha, very funny, Jim. You’d have to be seriously geeky to want to visit the dull and tedious gunpowder mill!”

  Sam’s smile faded as she realised the others weren’t laughing. She hoped Jim’s blank expression would crack into a grin, but instead he shot her a glare, then exchanged a look of contempt with Rebecca.

  Patty squeezed her on the shoulder. “I guess we can’t all like the same hobbies, right.”

  “Yeah.” Sam desperately searched for something to say. She grasped at a flash of redemption. “Oh, Verlaine, why don’t we give your mum her present?”