Saying Yes is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses,
places and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or
are used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual events,
locales or persons, living or dead is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2017 by Barbara Elsborg
Cover design by B4Jay
Edited by Deco
Published by Smashwords
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or transmitted in any manner without written permission from Barbara
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Table of Contents
About the Author
Zadie’s negative attitude leads to the loss of her boyfriend, job
and flat. Now she’s determined to be a yes girl. Yes, she’d
love to flat sit while the owner is away, but one look at the mess
and she wishes she’d said no.
No is the last thing Tristan expects to hear when he proposes in
front of his girlfriend’s family. Humiliated, he hides out in his
brother’s empty flat without asking because he really doesn’t
want to hear another no.
What he needs is a woman who’ll say yes…yes…yes… Could that
Zadie Whittington walked out of King’s Cross station into a
cloudburst. To be fair, the torrential downpour only started once she
was trapped in the middle of the road with traffic roaring past on
either side. Of course no one stopped. How was she supposed to be
positive when crap like this always happened to her? Zadie stood with
water dripping down her neck, willing the red stickman to change
It didn’t. Bloody men.
Dumped because Dickhead said her first response to anything was
always “no”, Zadie had spent last week convinced her life had
spiralled down a black hole.
No, Zadie didn’t want to go camping.
No, she didn’t want to stay in and watch football.
No, she didn’t want to go halves on a fifty-inch TV.
No, she didn’t want to be woken up for a shag when Dickhead rolled
in at two in the morning.
Was any of that being unreasonable?
Red turned to green. Zadie yanked up the handle on her suitcase and
it broke off. Shit. By the time she’d struggled to turn the
case the other way up, the green man flashed, warning not to cross.
Bugger that. She was “yes” woman. Zadie hauled the
suitcase across the last section of the busy road only for a cyclist
to race between her and the curb straight through a huge puddle. A
wave of dirty water sprayed her from head to toe. Shocked and frozen
in place, Zadie squeaked when a car bumper nudged her case. Before
she got flattened, she dragged herself and her case to safety.
Too late to seek shelter now she was soaked, Zadie kept walking
through the rain toward her temporary home, somewhere to stay while
she looked for a new job and a place of her own. Her friend Stef,
currently en route to China with her boyfriend Fabian, had dragged
Zadie from the slough of despond that was her stepmother’s bijoux
bedsit in Belgravia and given Zadie the key to Fabian’s apparently
gorgeous flat. And if Zadie’s innate sense of direction hadn’t
gone the way of her life, it should be just around the corner.
The rain slowed and the sun came out as Zadie stopped in front of the
glossy blue front door. Fabian’s flat was on the top floor. Zadie
let herself into the smart communal reception hall, populated by a
line of chained-up, expensive-looking bikes, and hauled the suitcase
up the stairs, leaving a wet slug-like trail behind her.
Gasping by the time she reached the top, Zadie slumped onto the edge
of her suitcase and heard the catch snap.
“Oh no,” she groaned, and then clamped her lips together.
Think positive. “Fabulous flat, here I come.”
Zadie unlocked the door and gasped so hard her lungs locked. Burglar.
Her fingers reached for her mobile until she remembered she’d
thrown it in the Thames. Another glance inside and she rethought her
original impression. Not ransacked by a thief, just incredibly
untidy. Zadie pulled her suitcase inside and closed the door.
Hard to see the furniture under the piles of books, beer cans, food
cartons and newspapers. But underneath the clutter, this was a
spectacular flat. She stood in a large, airy room with a vaulted
ceiling. At one end, three huge windows overlooked a landscape of
rooftops with London’s city centre towers rising in the distance
like alien castles. Zadie recoiled when she saw the kitchen and
reversed to open a fingerprint-smeared door revealing an unmade bed,
a carpet obscured by clothes, piles of pizza boxes, beer cans and—
Zadie kicked the porno magazines under the bed.
The bathroom wasn’t too bad, though damp towels hung everywhere.
The tub was huge, a freestanding claw-footed monstrosity with central
taps, sitting in the middle of the room. Zadie longed for a warm soak
but not until she’d cleaned the flat. Maybe Fabian had to rush for
his plane or something, and to be fair, he didn’t know he’d have
a picky house sitter.
Zadie stripped to her bra and pants, put her case in the bedroom and
piled her wet things next to it. No point putting on more clothes
only to get them dirty while she cleaned.
She filled black trash bags with takeout cartons, beer cans and
Bundled up the bed sheets, trying not to look too hard at them. Yuk.
Loaded the washing machine.
Freaked out at the three human fingers lurking at the bottom of the
Breathed a sigh of relief when she worked out they were very old
Hung up Fabian’s cleanish-looking clothes and put the others in a
pile for washing.
Vacuumed, dusted, polished and finally slumped on the couch to look
round at a gleaming, tidy flat and realized she hadn’t thought
about Dickhead once.
Well, that wasn’t quite true. One thing she’d picked up had made
her think about him. A small blue box on the mantelpiece held the
most beautiful diamond ring. Lucky Stef. Zadie felt bad that she knew
before her friend that Fabian intended to pop the question, and then
fought a stab of jealousy that it wasn’t going to happen to her. A
year of her life down the drain. She should have said no when
Dickhead first asked her out. The irony wasn’t lost on her.
The only thing Zadie needed to do before she sank up to her ears in a
luxurious bath was shop for food. She’d moved Fabian’s clothes to
one side of the closet and hung up hers. Zadie pulled a
black-and-white linen dress from a hanger, slipped on a pair of
sandals and her jacket, then trailed up and down the stairs three
times to take all the rubbish to the bins along with her useless
As she made her way to the minimart on the corner, Zadie felt like
skipping. Yes, from now on life was going to be perfect.
Yes, yes, yes.
Tristan had drunk enough to anesthetize an elephant, but to his
amazement remained conscious. He’d hoped to whizz through the
I’m-very-clever stage where every word he uttered was a gem if only
he could remember it, but unfortunately he’d gotten stuck there.
With no one else appreciating his urbane wit, Tristan left the pub
and went home.
Walking in a straight line wouldn’t have been a problem if he
hadn’t been distracted by the cracks. Tread on one of those, he’d
get eaten by a bear. Fucking clever dick of an older brother.
He tripped over one of the bikes in the entrance hall, and when he
tried to prop it up, knocked over the whole line of them like a row
of space-age dominoes. Shit. Tristan didn’t have the energy
to sort the tangle out. He tiptoed up the stairs, crawled the last
flight because they started to wobble like a suspension bridge and
then fumbled for his key.
One foot inside and he stepped out again. Wrong fucking flat. How
drunk am I? Tristan made for the next flight of stairs only to
find they didn’t exist. He turned back in confusion. It was
the right flat. Back inside, he closed the door and looked around.
Where had all his stuff gone? He’d almost amassed enough pizza
boxes to construct a ziggurat coffee table to match the magnificent
beer can footstool. Tristan started to move forward and froze.
His brain sighed with relief, having completed the tricky mental
deduction. Fabian had a cleaner. Tristan sniggered. So his perfect
older brother wasn’t perfect after all. Tristan staggered around
the flat, feeling both relief and guilt. He shouldn’t have let it
get into that state, but once it had, he seemed incapable of doing
anything about it. Cleaning required a purposefulness he couldn’t
handle. Only now the bed looked too clean to wank in, the couches too
tidy to slouch on and the kitchen—yeah, well, he didn’t really
use the kitchen except as a place to store beer and to throw up. He’d
puked into the dishwasher, thinking it was easier than cleaning the
floor, only it turned out dishwashers didn’t like regurgitated
booze and curry.
Talking of which. He needed something to eat.
Damn. Empty fridge. Tristan went out again. Buy food and
beer. He might not need a drink right now, but he’d need one
later, otherwise he wouldn’t get to sleep, and he really needed to
sleep. Unconsciousness constantly eluded him like some pesky fly,
almost but never quite within his grasp.
He zigzagged along the pavement toward the minimart, only realizing
when he reached the corner the store lay in the other direction. Oh
fuck it. Tristan paused near a café. Two mini-skirted women sat
outside at a silver table. A blonde and a brunette. Either of them
would do. Or both. Would they say yes and not no?
Tristan went in, had a brain meltdown at the choices and emerged with
a large black coffee, except it wasn’t called that. He couldn’t
get his head around the description. The moment he sat at the table
next to the women, they got up and walked off. Tristan tried not to
take it personally. He lifted his hand to scratch his back so he
could sniff his armpit. He took it as a good sign his eyes didn’t
water. A hand in front of his mouth as he exhaled reminded him he
liked beer better than coffee. Except when the traffic spun in
circles and the pavement looked too much like a rolling sea, coffee
had to be better for him than more beer.
He took a sip and spat it back into the cup. Shit—hot. He
glanced around to make sure no one noticed and sighed. Maybe it was
another good sign that he cared what people thought. Maybe it meant
he wasn’t the idiot he appeared to be.
Except he was.
Zadie filled the fridge with food. She might be on a limited budget
until she found work, but she didn’t intend to starve. She’d even
bought a bottle of inexpensive champagne to celebrate her freedom and
tucked it in the bottom of the fridge. After stuffing another load of
washing into the machine, she stripped off in the bedroom. The relief
of being on her own, not having to worry about what Dickhead thought
and not having her stepmother criticizing the way she breathed, made
Zadie want to dance naked in the sunshine. Except it was raining
again and getting dark outside.
She lit the three fat candles on the windowsill, filled the bath with
hot water and poured in half a bottle of rose-scented gel that had to
be Stef’s. While she waited for the tub to fill, Zadie shaved her
legs, armpits and other bits. She cleaned off the remains of the pink
polish from her toes and filed her fingernails. With a
deep-conditioning purple goo smeared on her hair and a lurid green
scrub plastered all over her neck and face, she climbed into the tub
and lay back.
Bliss. Closing her eyes, she tried to think positive thoughts.
Dickhead’s cock wilting when he climbed into bed with his new love.
The bastard’s hair falling out.
Zadie’s stepmother turning up at a party in the same dress as three
A new man for Zadie who didn’t complain if she sometimes said “no”.
By the time Tristan got back to the flat, he was soaked to the bone.
Instead of wallowing in his customary lazy alcoholic slump, the
coffee and rain shower had gone a long way to sobering him up. He
didn’t like being sober. It allowed him to think. He considered
walking past the flat and going to the minimart to buy a ready meal
and a bottle of wine, instead of his customary pizza and beer, but he
was so wet, he couldn’t be arsed.
He stripped off inside the front door—no point wrecking the
cleaner’s hard work— and left his clothes where he stepped out of
them. He needed a shower. The fridge was sort of on the way to the
bathroom, and Tristan vaguely remembered not checking the vegetable
drawer for a beer.
When he pulled open the door of the fridge, his jaw dropped. Pasta,
salad, humus, lemons, smoked salmon, bread and—champagne. His face
lit in a smile. Maybe Fabian was less of a prick than he thought. A
week late for Tristan’s birthday, but since he’d also missed
Fabian’s, it’d be churlish to complain. He grabbed the champagne
bottle and then put it back. Then took it out again. A shower and a
bottle of bubbly. Or a soak in the tub. He might even feel human. And
if he didn’t, he’d be pissed again, which was just as good. In
Tristan’s case, even better.
Tristan twisted open the wire on the neck of the bottle as he made
for the bathroom. He nudged open the door with his backside and
flipped out the cork as he walked in and turned round.
“Jesus Christ,” he yelled.
Champagne frothed down his hand as he stared at the creature in the
tub. He’d never drink again. Ever. Maybe just one mouthful. He
chugged the bottle. The green thing gave a weird sort of closemouthed
cry and disappeared under the foamy surface.
“Shit, shit.” He clutched the bottle tighter and stepped toward
the tub. Under the froth of purple-and-green-tinged bubbles he could
see frantic movement where he’d just seen its head. One half of his
brain knew full well what this was, the other half tried to convince
him a monster from the sewers had somehow crept up the plughole and
brought its lagoon with it.
A head surfaced, green around the hairline and eyes so wide he could
see white all the way round. The other half of Fabian’s present? A
woman who got paid to say yes? What the fuck was his brother
thinking? Her mouth was small, her lips plump, and purple ears stuck
out of her wet locks. She looked like a little elf and Tristan jerked
the champagne bottle down to hide his instantly intrigued cock.
“Who are you?” she asked.
Tristan opened his mouth and burped. Shit.
“That’s my champagne,” she said.
His for the moment. No way was he moving the bottle. Not a gift from
Fabian then. Neither the booze nor her. Oh Christ, nor the food. A
squatter? He must have left the door ajar when he went out that
“What are you doing in my tub?” he asked.
Maybe she wasn’t very bright and had wandered into the wrong flat.
“This is my brother’s place,” he said.
She groaned and slumped deeper into the foam. “Fabian’s your
Tristan glared. “Yeah, he’s out of the country with Stef, his
girlfriend.” He stressed the last word. “So you’re too
late, sweetheart. He’s no longer available.”
“I’m Zadie. Stef’s friend. Fabian said I could stay here while
I looked for a job and a place to live. No one said you’d be here.”
Yes, well, he shouldn’t be. He’d helped himself to the spare key
Fabian left with their mother. And if he’d been thinking straight,
he’d have registered the food couldn’t be for him since no one
knew he was there, including his brother.
“He must have forgotten,” Tristan said. “So it was you who
cleaned the place and filled the fridge, and not a fairy?”
“Thank you. What a transformation. I was a bit scared to look in
the closet in case I ended up in some mythical kingdom. I’m
Zadie’s heart was using her stomach as a trampoline. Oh God, he was
gorgeous. Tall, tanned, shaggy dark hair, eyelashes longer than hers,
silvery-blue eyes and a slight curve to his mouth as if he longed to
smile but didn’t quite dare. She ought to be telling him to get
out. “Get in” hovered on her lips.
“Can I have the champagne?” she blurted. Coward.
“In a minute.” His fingers tightened on the bottle. “Want to
What did he mean? Champagne or the bath? Was “yes” the right
answer regardless? She covered her bases. “Do you?”
“It’s your champagne,” he said.
Bugger. Zadie’s cheeks flushed with heat.
“Ah shit, I can’t stand here all night, trying to wish the damn
thing down.” He lowered the bottle.
His cock rose out of a nest of dark curls, and stood thick and hard
against his belly, his balls heavy beneath. Don’t look. Now
her sensible voice decided to chime in? Zadie almost sniggered.
Though sniggering at a guy’s erection was not the way to his heart.
“You’ve probably used all the hot water,” he said. “Can I get
“Yes.” Oh fuck, did I say that? The word had slipped past
her brain’s quality control.
The almost smile on his face turned into a full-on beam, and Zadie’s
pussy gurgled “I’m here”. As he settled at the other end of the
tub, the water level rose in parallel with her lust. He leaned back
and stretched his legs out either side of hers, his toes tickling
under her arms.
“Want a taste?” he asked.
Zadie wondered how she could do it without drowning and then noticed
he was offering her the bottle. Oops. She took a swig and
sighed as the cold, fizzy liquid slipped down her throat.
“You still have green slime on your face,” he said.
She winced. “Beauty mask.”
Tristan took the bottle from her hand, set it down on the floor and
then reached out to wipe wet fingers over her chin and down the sides
of her face. There was something about the slow, careful way he
removed the smears that sent bubbles of pleasure zooming around her
“You don’t need anything to make you look more beautiful,” he
Her breath stuck in her throat until she reminded herself he was a
guy, a naked guy, and she was naked and he’d say anything to keep
her that way.
“It was supposed to draw out impurities and excess oil, and help
prevent spots while relieving stress.” Why did I tell him that?
“Not make unsuspecting males fear a monster’s escaped from the
Zadie laughed. He leaned back and blew at the foam between them.
Flecks fluttered into the air as he made a shallow hole in the
He sighed. “I was hoping to see the rest of you.”
“Sure you can cope with the scales and my incredibly enticing
Tristan’s face lit in a grin. Zadie lifted the bottle and took
another swallow before she handed it to him. This might be easier if
she was a bit drunk. He put the bottle down without drinking.
Zadie almost shot out of the water when she felt his fingers touch
her calves, the gentle but confident strokes liquefying her organs
more effectively than the hot water. He lifted her leg, tugged her
ankle onto his shoulder and grabbed the soap from the dish by his
head. Soap would make the bubbles disintegrate and Zadie worried he
might not like what he saw. She was tall, though he was taller, and
she was curvy rather than wafer thin. She also had an unfortunate
Tristan kissed her toes, wrapped his hands around her leg and rubbed
the soap over her skin, working up a thick, white lather.
“Your skin is so soft,” he whispered.
And his chin had a sexy five o’clock shadow. Why would someone as
good-looking as him be interested in someone like her?
He’s not, doofus. He wants to fuck you, not marry you. Still
going to say yes?
His hands moved over her knee, and as his fingers ventured higher,
Zadie gulped. This was so unlike her, she wondered if she was
imagining it. Almost as though he was aware of her concern, once his
fingers reached the top of her thigh, he pushed her leg under the
water and washed away the soap.
“My turn,” he said.
When he put his foot on her shoulder, it propelled Zadie down until
the water covered her nose. Her backside collided with his thigh and
she spluttered back to the surface.
“Sorry,” he said, but he didn’t look it. “Catch.”
Tristan flipped the soap toward her but it slithered through her
fingers and she dropped it. The thin bar skittered all over the
bottom of the tub as Zadie tried to grab it, bubbles popping merrily
in its wake. Her fingers brushed his balls and Tristan caught her
wrist before she could jerk back. He leaned up and reached out to
touch her face with warm, soapy fingers.
“You’re really cute.” His silvery-blue eyes smiled before his
mouth did. The way he stared as he explored the lines and planes of
her face sent Zadie’s heart into free fall.
Dickhead had never looked at her like that, as if he wanted to eat
“Come closer,” Tristan whispered.
Zadie surged forward to slide her heels behind his backside and
brought a tidal wave with her. Water slopped over the edge of the tub
onto the floor.
“Oops,” she said.
Tristan brushed the slabs of disintegrating foam from her chest.
“Oh God,” he mumbled. “Gorgeous breasts. Am I dreaming? Did I
get knocked over by a car? Am I lying in some drunken stupor?”
Those were almost her lines. He had a gorgeous face and fantastic
body, no fat on him, just hard muscle. Then his lips settled on hers
and Zadie’s brain stopped working. A soft brush of his tongue
across the seam of her mouth and she opened to him. He groaned and
pulled her tighter as he deepened his kiss. Zadie’s hands roamed
the contours of his back as he caressed her spine. His tongue
explored the textures of her mouth, the line of her teeth, the curve
of her hard palate before he let his tongue dance alongside hers.
Electricity sizzled along her veins as her heart rate soared. Zadie
had never had a kiss like it.
His fingers travelled up her back to stroke the nape of her neck, his
other hand fondled her hip, urging her ever closer. Her breasts
flattened against his chest and her thighs rode over his until her
belly pressed tight against his cock.
“Okay?” he whispered.
Only one possible answer. “Yes.”
“Are you sure?”
Zadie groaned. “Don’t make me say no.”
Tristan thought his head was about to explode and his little head
would follow. Zadie tasted as sweet as honey, felt like liquid velvet
under his fingers and he didn’t need the champagne because the
scent of her was intoxicating. She made him forget why he was
unhappy. Her “yes” obliterated the other “no”. She was all
his birthdays and Christmases rolled into one. He kissed his way
along her chin, down the slender column of her neck, and she arched
back into his palms as he wrapped his lips around her nipple.
The tiny bud hardened under his tongue and Tristan moaned into the
rounded globe of her breast. He wanted to taste all of her then sink
his cock into her and fuck her senseless. But not in the tub. Not the
first time. And there would be more than one time. No way was he
letting her go.
He rose to his feet and pulled her up with him, the dripping foam
making them look like melting snowmen.
“Perfect height,” he said, and looked down. “Oh God, perfect
body for a swamp monster.”
She was tall. He didn’t have to crane his neck to kiss her. She
curved in the right places. Tristan stepped from the tub and lifted
“Where are the towels?” he asked.
“Washing machine. Except that one.”
He picked up the blue towel, which had thankfully escaped the tub’s
tsunami, and wiped the foam from her body, starting with her face.
She had her palm plastered to her hip and didn’t move her hand when
“What are you hiding?” he asked.
“An error of judgment.”
Zadie let her hand slip and when he saw the tiny tattoo, he bit back
“Bruce not the man you thought he was?” Tristan asked.
“He dumped me, sacked me and threw me out of his flat. The next
day, he had someone else in my job and in his bed.”
Tristan knew what it was like to be hurt and humiliated, and felt a
rush of fury it had happened to her.
He grabbed the champagne, scooped her up and carried her into the
bedroom. Once the bottle stood safe on the bedside table, he dropped
her on the bed. Zadie bounced and squealed. She lay on her back
laughing, and he dived onto her.
Tristan smiled. “Going to let me kiss you all over?”
“Yes, as long as I can do the same to you.”
“I was counting on it.”
This was crazy. He didn’t know her, she didn’t know him, but she
was just what he needed. The perfect distraction. Tristan felt
desperate to be what Zadie needed. Only why did he want to be more
than a distraction? He lifted her hand and sucked each of her
fingers, kissed and licked his way up one arm and down the other. He
laved her breasts with the flat of his tongue, pulled at her nipples
with his teeth while she wriggled beneath him, her devious hands
driving him equally mad. When he fluttered his tongue around her
navel, her skin jumped and twitched, and Zadie released a long groan.
“Oh God, can I keep you? You don’t need batteries, do you?” she
Tristan smiled as his lips skimmed the tiny tattoo on her hip,
stopped smiling as his mouth hovered over her glistening folds. Oh
Christ. He liked the no-pubic-hair thing. He could see the little
swell of her clit; he could hear her panting, feel her heart
pounding. Tristan slid his finger forward and backward over the
valleys and folds of her sex, and the hitch in her breath echoed in
his. His cock revved up, urging him to hurry and get to that part of
the fun, but for the first time since he could remember, Tristan
wanted to go slow.
He looked up into Zadie’s face as he slipped a finger deep inside
her and watched her eyes darken as pleasure swamped her. She threaded
her fingers in his hair and massaged his head. When her tongue
slipped out to lick her lip, pre-cum surged up his cock and his balls
yelled a warning. His thumb settled on her clit and he rubbed it as
he pushed his finger in and out of her. Her muscles tightened around
him and his cock leaked furious tears onto the clean sheets.
Tristan faltered. She’d changed the sheets. They’d been— He
cringed at the thought. Could he blame Fabian for the state of the
bed? Then Zadie came around his finger, her muscles spasming while
she gasped, and he wondered what the hell he was doing thinking about
his pain-in-the-neck brother when he had this siren to play with.
“Oh good grief,” Zadie groaned.
Tristan dropped his face between her legs and swallowed her cream.
His head fogged with desire. Zadie arched into him, and as he speared
her with his tongue, she came again. Wow, that’s a first.
Aren’t I clever?
Impossible. That didn’t just happen. Except it
obviously did, Zadie thought. Tristan had made her come twice within
the space of a couple of minutes. Dickhead had never managed that. To
be fair, he’d never attempted it. Once he’d brought her off, then
it was his turn. Sometimes she pretended just so that he’d hurry
up. God, we weren’t suited at all. Tristan crawled back up
the bed with a cheeky grin on his face.
“I’m the cat that got the cream,” he said, and when she
laughed, he kissed her and she tasted herself in his mouth.
Zadie sighed with happiness when he wrapped himself around her and
kissed her more deeply. Somehow she’d gotten out of the habit of
kissing, had forgotten how enervating it was. She felt hyperaware,
every cell primed to respond to his touch. Electricity flowed in her
veins. His cock was rigid between them, getting harder and hotter as
they bucked and thrust and rutted, laughing into each other’s
mouth. Tristan licked and nibbled her ear and she came again,
pressing herself against his solid thigh. This guy was something
“My little firecracker,” Tristan whispered.
“My lightning rod.” She wrapped her hand around his shaft. “I
think you’re due an explosion.”
As she began to nibble her way down his body, Tristan went as stiff
as his cock.
Zadie looked up at him. “What’s the matter?”
He pushed himself up on his elbows. “Apart from the prospect of
spontaneous combustion the moment you even breathe on my cock, I
don’t have any condoms. Do you?”
“Oh fuck.” He groaned. “I’ll have to go out.”
“You swear you’ve been careful?” she asked.
His eyes widened. “Shit. I’ve never… God. Yes, I’ve been
“So have I. You don’t need to go out. I’m on the pill.”
Tristan blinked at her. “You trust me?”
“Not really.” His mouth curved in a smile. “But I wouldn’t
lie about something like this. As far as using a condom’s
concerned, I’m destined for sainthood. In every other respect, Hell
is probably putting out a chair with my name on it.”
“I’ve never had sex without a condom either. Though I should have
asked before I said you could get in the tub if you’re married or
have a girlfriend or something.”
He shook his head. “No lawful impediment why my cock and your…lips
should not be joined together. Unless,” he gulped, “you think you
have to just because—”
“I don’t do anything I don’t want to. I’m a no girl but I’m
learning there’s more and more I want to say yes to. Close your
eyes and relax.” She waited until his eyes were shut and then took
a mouthful of champagne.
As she drizzled it over his cock, he jerked upright. “What the
Zadie laughed and slurped her way from the tip of his cock to the
root and he sank down with a deep sigh. When she wrapped her mouth
around his velvety tip and dipped her tongue into the slit to suck up
pre-cum, he whimpered her name. “Zadie.”
The sound of it on his lips made her heart sing. The taste of him
made her mouth water. A few fast, tight sucks at his cock head, and
Tristan trembled and gasped while his hands fisted the sheet.
“Jesus, Zadie. You’re playing with a bomb, be careful. My
swimmers are about to make a false start.”
“I like to live dangerously.”
She took another mouthful of champagne, tightened her fingers around
the base of his cock, wrapped her lips around his crest and let the
champagne dribble down to his balls and her hand.
“Oh my God.” Tristan groaned. “I’ll never look at champagne
in the same way again.”
Zadie squeezed around his root as she licked at the tip with the flat
of her tongue. She could see him watching her and the look in his
eyes made her stomach lurch. Zadie twirled her tongue around him,
sucking up salty-sweet pre-cum as she pumped with her other hand.
Tristan cupped her cheeks. “Much as I’d love you to keep going,
please stop. I’d rather make us both happy.”
“You think I wouldn’t be happy sucking you off?”
“This first time, I want to be inside you. Remember I’ve never
done this without a condom.”
She felt a zing of delight. “Need stabilizers? Want me to hold your
He growled. “You cheeky monkey.”
Zadie squeaked as Tristan flipped her over onto her back and
straddled her body. “Close your eyes,” he whispered.
“I’ve got a surprise. Don’t you like surprises?”
“No—ah damn. Yes.”
Zadie shrieked when he upended the cold champagne over her stomach
and breasts. He tossed the empty bottle aside and plastered his mouth
over her body, drinking, licking, slurping as she wriggled beneath
him. He kissed his way to her mouth, then held himself over her.
“Sure, sweetheart?” he asked.
Zadie wrapped her fingers around his cock. “Yes.”
Zadie’s touch poured oil onto a runaway blaze. She positioned him
against her soft folds and Tristan slid into her. One long, slow,
glorious slide into tight, slick heat until he could go no farther.
He lowered his forehead to hers and sighed. Warm, wet heaven. She
clamped around him, her muscles holding him tight. The feeling was
Tristan lifted his head and stared into her eyes. He felt a surge of
possessiveness, a need to protect her. He knew this was lust, he’d
only just met her, knew nothing about her apart from the fact that
she was hot as hell, and yet he still hoped for more than a quick
fuck. What’s got into me? Her hands skated over his
backside, trickled down the cleft and lingered in a way that made his
stomach clench. His cock twitched and swelled inside her and he
How not to impress. Spurt two seconds after you get inside a
He willed his balls to stay calm and took a couple of deep breaths.
Didn’t help. Tristan felt jittery, as if he were a teenager doing
this for the first time. He wanted to make this perfect for both of
“Have you forgotten how to do it?” Zadie whispered. “Pull back
and then push in again. Think you’ll find that works a treat.”
Tristan turned his laugh into a growl. He began slowly, gritting his
teeth as he fought to control his body’s urge to immediately empty
himself into her. Zadie’s pussy sucked at his cock as he pulled
out, tightened around him as he pushed in. How was he supposed to
resist her? She had everything on her side.
Zadie spread her hands over his chest, teased his nipples, and
Tristan’s control slipped. He flexed his hips and drove into her,
gave her what she wanted, what he wanted. His balls slapped noisily
at her backside and she began to thrust back into his shunts. He
slipped his hands under her back and cupped her shoulder blades to
pull her into him as he powered down. Tristan was already moving fast
but somehow he moved faster. Zadie was gasping beneath him, her
fingers sliding over his ribs to dig into his back as she wrapped her
legs around him. He wasn’t sure if he was still breathing.
The rhythm was manic, but the powerful sensations sweeping through
his body overwhelmed him with such pleasure, Tristan couldn’t stop.
His head ached, his balls throbbed and he loved it. I fucking love
it. He felt the moment her climax started, the tighter, rhythmic
clamp around his cock, the sensation incredible with no condom, and
it dragged his release along with hers. The rush rampaged through his
body, soared up his legs, bolted down his spine to detonate his
“Yes,” they cried together.
Tristan came and came and came. As he bathed her pussy in his cum, he
was filled with a deep sense of satisfaction and no small amount of
gratitude. Trust didn’t come easily to him. Probably not to her.
He rolled to one side and took Zadie with him, held her tight while
their hearts and breathing calmed. They kissed each other down from
the high, arms and legs entwined, and he trembled at the knowledge
that he might never have known her. that the wrong one might have
said yes. He felt as if he’d been pulled back from the edge of a
“God, you’re gorgeous,” he whispered. “What the fuck was
Dickhead thinking?” “You really want to know?” Zadie whispered.
The question had been rhetorical, but Tristan realized he did
want to know. He hoped she didn’t tell him something that made his
“He didn’t like me saying no,” Zadie whispered.
His brow crinkled.
“I’m too negative,” she said.
“Do you like me?” Tristan smiled.
“Can you forgive me for the mess the flat was in?”
“Want to go on top next time?”
Zadie grinned. “Yes.”
“See? You’re not negative at all.”
“You want me?” she asked.
“Oh yeah. You’re mine,” he whispered in her ear, and felt the
hitch in her breath.
Zadie hadn’t realized sex could be so energetic. She’d learned
more in the last four days than in the previous four years. Four days
of sex only interrupted by eating and sleeping and talking. They went
to sleep entwined in each other’s arms and woke the same way. They
only dressed when they ran out of food. They tossed for who did the
shopping and who ironed, and Tristan set up the ironing board for her
in the bedroom before he left.
When the doorbell rang, Zadie assumed Tristan had forgotten his key
and buzzed him in. She left the flat door open and went to make
“Fabian?” called a woman.
Zadie dragged herself back to the door and blinked hard. The petite
woman in front of her had a flawless complexion with ruby-red lips.
She was sleek and elegant, from the dark hair cascading past her
shoulders to her vertiginous heels. After four days of feeling
beautiful, all Zadie’s insecurities roared back to bite her on the
“He’s not here,” Zadie managed.
“I really wanted his brother. I didn’t know where else to look.
I’m Veronique, Tristan’s fiancée. Oh, that’s my ring.” She
strode to the mantel and opened the box.
Zadie’s knees wobbled as the stacked up fantasy of the last four
days teetered and began to fall.
Veronique put the ring on and walked back to wave her hand in front
of Zadie. “I’ll have to change it for something more stylish.
Zach has crap taste.”
Yeah, if he proposed to you. But then he’d made Zadie feel…
Oh damn it.
Stupefied and disappointed as Zadie felt, she had enough brain power
to realize something wasn’t right. “If you’re engaged, why
weren’t you wearing the ring?”
“I told Trissy I wanted to think about it.”
“Vero?” Tristan stood in the doorway, his tanned face noticeably
Little Miss Perfect flung herself into his arms and the bags dropped
from his fingers. Zadie winced when she heard something break, along
with the crack in her heart.
“Yes, yes, yes. I will marry you,” Vero said, and reached
up to press her red mouth against lips Zadie had stupidly thought
belonged to her.
Four days, idiot.
The pain in Zadie’s heart was horrible, like an animal had crawled
down her throat to claw at her. She grabbed her handbag and shuffled
“Zadie, don’t go,” Tristan said. “Please.”
Realization dawned in Vero’s glittering eyes. “Yes, do go. Trissy
and I have been a pair for ages. Our parents are friends. His parents
vacation in our home in the Cayman Islands. Tristan’s been offered
a job in my father’s company. How could you think he’d want you?”
She looked Zadie up and down and sneered.
“Shut up, Vero,” Tristan snapped.
Zadie blinked back the tears that threatened. She wanted to run but
she didn’t. If Dickhead had just arrived, how would she feel if
Tristan walked away without waiting to hear what she said? She walked
over to Tristan and stood next to him. He took hold of her hand and
squeezed her fingers.
“I don’t want the job, Vero. I never did,” Tristan said.
“But you wanted me,” she whispered.
“You said no.”
“I changed my mind,” Vero blurted.
“So have I.”
Vero yanked the ring from her finger and threw it him. Tristan ducked
and it missed. Vero strode to the door and slammed it as she left.
“I’m sorry,” Tristan said.
Zadie sighed. “I thought that ring was Fabian’s. I’ve been
practicing how to look surprised when Stef told me.”
“Veronique was the reason the flat was a pigsty and you were
“Everyone assumed we’d get married. I think it made me assume it
too. I got down on one knee and asked her in front of her family and
she said no. Not just no. She recited a long list of why she wouldn’t
marry me while everyone stood and stared at me still kneeling on the
floor. I didn’t know I had that many faults.” He sighed. “I
don’t think I’ve ever been so humiliated.”
“Your mum didn’t dress you up for Halloween as a sperm whale
He let out a choked laugh and Zadie took hold of his other hand.
“You should have told me,” she said.
Tristan stared into her eyes. “I didn’t want to look stupid. I’ve
spent so long feeling sorry for myself, her bloody ‘no’ echoing
in my head. Then one look at that creature in the bath and my life
changed forever. I’ve had more fun the past four days than I ever
had with Vero. She and I weren’t right for each other, but we are.”
He kissed Zadie’s nose. “I think you and I needed to find what
was missing in our lives.”
He laughed. “You make me happy, Zadie.”
She chewed her lip. “Even though I have another man’s name
tattooed on my hip?”
“I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that. My name’s Tristan
Want to add the other two?”
Zadie laughed. “I’ll think about it.”
“What if they don’t like me?” Zadie asked.
“They’ll love you, just like I do.” Tristan tugged her toward
his parents’ drawing room.
He did love her. She was the light of his life. Zadie made him see
possibilities, encouraged him to strive harder for the things that
were important. With her by his side, he could do anything.
She squeezed his hand a little harder and they walked in together.
Maybe it was Tristan’s imagination but he thought he saw a look
pass between his mother and Fabian. Then his brother’s mouth
quirked in a grin and his mother was clearly trying hard not to
laugh. Stef was there too and looked everywhere but at Zadie.
Light dawned and Tristan growled. “They set us up.”
Her chuckle pulled at his heart.
He tugged Zadie closer and smacked a kiss on her forehead.
“Sweetheart, can you forgive my obnoxious family?”
“Oui. Si. Ja…”
His lips landed on her mouth before she said yes in every language.
About the Author
Barbara Elsborg lives in Kent in the southeast of England. She always
wanted to be a spy, but having confessed to everyone without them
even resorting to torture, she decided it was not for her.
Vulcanology scorched her feet. A morbid fear of sharks put paid to
marine biology. So instead, she spent several years successfully
selling cyanide. Try saying that quickly!
After dragging up two
rotten, ungrateful children and frustrating her sexy, devoted,
wonderful husband (who can now stop twisting her arm) she finally has
time to conduct an affair with an electrifying plugged-in male, her
She writes contemporary, paranormal and sci fi romances
about a man and a woman, two men and a woman and two men. Her stories
feature quirky heroines and bad boys and are laced with humour, and
she hopes they are as much fun to read as they are to write.
for more information about Barbara, her books and for her blog posts.
There are a few linked books in this list but all can be read as
Summer Girl Winter Boy
Kiss a Falling Star
An Ordinary Girl
Perfect Timing (Bedlingham brothers book 1)
Something About Polly (Bedlingham brothers book 2)
Doing the Right Thing (Mansell brothers book 1)
Finding the Right One (Mansell brothers book 2)
The Princess and the Prepper (novella)
On the Right Track (novella)
Short Stories (MF)
The Bad Widow
Two Birds, One Stone
Short Stories (MM)
Paranormal MFs and MMFs
Lucy in the Sky MF (sci fi)
Taking Stock MMF (sci fi)
Perfect Trouble MF
Power of Love MF
Kiss Interrupted MF
Jumping in Puddles MF (Norwood book 1)
The Small Print MMF
Worlds Apart MMF
The Consolation Prize MF (Trueblood book 1)
Falling for You MF (Trueblood book 2)
Lightning in a Bottle MF (Trueblood book 3)
The Misfits MMF (Trueblood book 4)
Fight to Remember MMF (Trueblood book 5)
Just One Bite MF novella
With or Without Him
Give Yourself Away
With or Without Him
Falling (Fall and Break book 1)
Breaking (Fall and Break book 2)
Bloodline (Norwood book 2)
The Demon You Know (Norwood book 3)
Anna in the Middle
Girl Most Likely to
Just What She Wants (novella)
Romantic Suspense (MF)
Crossing the Line