Free Naked Truths by Jo Carnegie Page A

layer of fat, arched upwards so he could grind himself further into her.
    â€˜Yeah, yeah,’ he moaned. ‘Give it to me!’
    â€˜Keep your voice down,’ Saffron whispered. If there were an Olympics for the loudest vocals in bed, Fernando would win gold.
    Her inner thighs were slippery with sweat as she moved back and forth. Below Fernando’s eyes were shut as he immersed himself in the rhythmic bliss.
    â€˜Aaah, AAAH,’ he moaned. Behind them, the door suddenly opened. Saffron threw herself on top of Fernando. They both lay still, hardly daring to breathe.
    â€˜You hear something?’ said a voice. Saffron’s heart was beating so loudly she was sure it would give them away.
    â€˜Nah,’ said another voice. ‘Chuck ’em in there, then, we’ve got no room downstairs.’
    Several more cashmere pashminas landed on top of them, and the door shut.
    Typically, Fernando wasn’t put off his stride for long. He ran his hands lightly down over her breasts, and caressed her Brazilian with his thumb, before moving round to hold her small smooth buttocks.
    â€˜Now
cariño
, where were we?’
    Saffron grinned. ‘Let me show you.’

Chapter 9
    THE BELL TINKLED as the door to Angie’s Antiques swung open. It was a quaint, low-roofed building sitting on the Churchminster village green, a stone’s throw from the renowned Jolly Boot pub.
    Freddie Fox-Titt stepped into the little shop. After the bright sun outside, his eyes took a few seconds to adjust to the gloom. He was a short, portly man with a kind face always ready to break into a smile.
    â€˜Are you in there?’ he called out to his wife. No answer. Freddie frowned and, walking over to the counter, put down the bunch of wild flowers he’d hand-picked on the way over. Freddie and Angie Fox-Titt lived in the Maltings, a handsome estate a few minutes’ walk from the village green.
    â€˜Darling?’ Tentatively Freddie stepped round a watercolour of a hunting scene on the floor and opened the door to the tiny back room that doubled as an office. A short, curvaceous woman with waves of shoulder-length brown hair sat on a stool, hands wrapped around a steaming mug of tea. She turned in surprise as the door opened, fixing Freddie with a pair of big brown eyes. Freddie’s heart did a little jump: after twenty-five years of marriage he still fancied the pants off her.
    â€˜Freds!’ she exclaimed. ‘I was miles away, I didn’t hear the door.’
    Freddie retrieved the bunch of flowers and gave them to her. ‘Just popped in to see if I could take my gorgeous wife out for lunch.’
    Angie broke into a smile and leaned up to kiss him. ‘Darling, you really are the most romantic man I’ve ever met.’ She sniffed the bouquet. ‘These are beautiful.’ Her face dropped.
    â€˜I could do with some cheering up.’
    â€˜Is everything all right?’ asked Freddie in concern.
    Angie sighed. ‘I’m fine really, I’m being silly. I just really miss Archie, the house has been so dreadfully quiet since he left.’
    Archie Fox-Titt was Angie and Freddie’s only child. Angie had suffered three miscarriages before finally falling pregnant with him, and had nearly died in childbirth. Much to their grief, they found out afterwards she was unable to have any more children. The pair doted on 19-year-old Archie, a good-natured boy who was away up North at agricultural college studying farm management.
    She sniffed dolefully. ‘I never thought I’d miss his smelly socks and the trails of mess he left all over the house, but I find myself pining after him like a lovesick Labrador. It feels strange only cooking for us and not having to go shopping every two days to replenish the fridge. I don’t like not having someone to look after; it’s what mothers are meant to do!’
    Freddie put his arms round his wife and squeezed her