Mmm Mon: He’s just so… close

More sexy Monday fun with Nick and Mia from Beguiled: Frost Trilogy 1.
Nick may have eclectic taste in music, but when it comes to girls, there’s only one he’s interested in. And now he’s got her right where he wants her…

* * *


I hear music. Where’s it coming from?

Going back into the bedroom I find it’s playing in there too. Then I realise it must be an integrated audio system that plays in all the rooms. It’s classical music; all sweeping strings and piano.

I head back to the kitchen, but Frost’s not there. Where the hell is he?

I find him in the vast living space: loafers kicked off leaving him barefoot, sprawled on the huge U-shaped sofa, his eyes closed. Our glasses are on the coffee table beside him.

He opens his eyes as I sit in one of the armchairs opposite; his gaze dark and enticing as it lands on me.

‘What are you doing all the way over there?’

I swallow hard. ‘You looked comfy.’ My voice sounds thready.

Scooching further back on the sofa creating a space he pats the cushion beside him. The simple act causes a tightening between my legs. I’m not sure I’m ready to be in such close proximity to him, but I slip my shoes off anyway and cross to the sofa and sit.

The heat of his hand on my nape has my pulse quickening.

‘You’re so tense,’ he murmurs as he gently massages my neck and top of my shoulders. ‘Relax.’

I’m trying to, but his touch is doing serious things to my nerves. A rush of goose bumps tingle in its wake as he glides his hand down my spine and slides it around my waist. My legs rise from the floor in a sort of counter-balance and I rest them on the sofa as he pulls me down to him. My head is cradled in the crook of his shoulder, his body flanking mine, his hand resting just below my ribs.

He nuzzles my hair, inhaling deeply. ‘Hmm. This is nice.’

It is, but he’s just so… close. Too close… I don’t know if I can handle it. I’m nervous, which is understandable, and when I’m nervous I can go one of two ways: clam up completely or babble. But this is good. Maybe chatting will defuse some of the sexual tension hanging in the air…

‘What’s this music?’


‘Aerosmith and Rachmaninov? How eclectic.’

‘I like all sorts of music. It depends on my mood.’

‘Oh. And what mood are you in now then?’

Oh you did not just ask that.

I feel his chest jolt as he laughs gently.

‘The mood for Rachmaninov’

‘It’s lovely. What’s it called?’

‘Shhh.’ He presses his lips to the top of my head.

I shush, letting the music wash over me as I try to relax. It really is beautiful.

The music, the warmth of his body pressed against mine and the soft feel of his fingertips as he traces lazy circles soon have me drifting; my eyes closing, my body melting back against his.

My breathing slows and deepens as the melody builds; the piano becoming more urgent, sweeping strings going into overdrive.

Then the pace slows; the music lightening, becoming sweeter, the mood changing. Piano chords are replaced by individual notes and a mournful flute joins in the melody. It sounds strangely familiar and I’m overwhelmed. It’s impossibly sad and I want to cry. The piano crashes and I can’t stop the tears from running down the side of my face.

He shifts and I feel the heat of his palm cupping my damp cheek. I open my eyes and lose myself in those deep blue pools so full of concern.

Hey,’ he whispers; dashing away my tears with his thumb.

God I feel like an idiot, blubbering all over him.

Then he’s scattering tender kisses on my eyes, my nose, my cheeks…

He pulls back, his mouth hovering inches above mine, our gaze locked, breath mingling. His breathing is shallow and I can sense his heart slamming in his chest.

‘Mia.’ There’s an urgency in his voice; a desperate need. His eyes are a deep cobalt; their gaze hotly intense. Oh God I’ve never felt so desired and never wanted anyone or anything more.

He closes the small gap between our mouths and presses his lips to mine in a sweet deep kiss; his tongue stroking with long lush licks.

My body goes lax as I dissolve under him.

Heaven knows I’ve fought against it; against the powerful attraction I feel for this man, but it’s clear to me now his persistent pursuit, the calculated meetings have all been leading to an inexorable conclusion I was always going to be powerless to stop. It… this… was always going to happen.

And I want it to.

* * *


Terri x

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