Johnny took a flute of champagne and downed it in one.
‘Can I just tell you how incredible you look tonight?’ he said putting his hand on her shoulder. ‘You could be having an Elizabeth Hurley moment in that dress.’
‘Does that make you my Hugh Grant?’ she said, suddenly feeling flirty.
‘Something like that,’ he said in a low voice, looking straight at her. His ice-blue eyes were incredible. ‘So how about we get out of here?’
Stella nodded, her earlier annoyance melting away.
‘I heard a few people are going to Bungalow 8?’
‘What? And get mobbed again?’ smirked Johnny, taking her hand. ‘Come on, it’s about time we made this into a proper date.’
‘So it is a date?’ she replied, feeling in a much better mood.
He smiled and lifted her hand to kiss her palm. It was an intimate, sexy gesture and Stella shivered.
‘Well, maybe you should go first,’ she said quickly, not wanting to ruin his image so soon.
‘Oh no, you don’t get away that easily,’ he laughed. ‘Shall we? He cocked out his arm playfully and she slid hers through.
The cameras went wild as they left the party. For Stella, it was ten times more frightening than having to walk the red carpet on her own three hours earlier.
They dashed through the flashbulbs and into the car which was waiting for Johnny.
‘Westbourne Grove,’ he ordered before settling back into the leather seat.
He put his hand on her bare thigh and watched as the London streets slipped by. They hardly spoke, just enjoying the tension that was crackling between them.
A thought nagged at Stella that she shouldn’t be going back to his flat so soon – they had barely spent an hour in each other’s company – and yet here she was with the hottest guy in London. Correction, she smiled, quoting one of the Time Out journalists at the party, the hottest new guy in film.
The car slid to a stop outside a white stucco-fronted mansion block. Johnny took her by the hand and ran up the front steps, hastily pushing open the front door.
Once inside, his hands cupped her face, his lips stroking hers, the kiss growing deeper and deeper in intensity until their hands were caressing each other’s neck, cheeks, hair.
She was swept away in such a violent surge of lust that she could barely speak.
‘Which floor?’ said Stella, her breath already ragged.
‘Top,’ he whispered. Now she grabbed Johnny’s hand and pulled him towards the staircase, racing up the steps, laughing as they ran. When they reached the final flight, Johnny caught up with her, grabbed her hips, pulling her down. She was on her hands and knees, looking up at his front door, giggling, when she felt his hands reach under her dress. His fingers rested momentarily on her hips, before they hooked into the top of her panties, peeling them down. Johnny smoothly flicked her panties over her shoes and pushed the chiffon skirt up to the small of her back, leaving her lower half completely bare. She arched her back in desire as he caressed the curve of her ass, then gasped as she felt his tongue lick the length of her dark crease.
‘I’ve only just started,’ he whispered, climbing two stairs so he was right on top of her, pressing his hard cock against her. Leaving her panties on the step, he pulled her upright and pushed her gently against the door, his lips caressing her neck as he rattled the key in. The door swung open. Not bothering to turn on any lights, he urgently pulled at the dress zipper, but the vintage fastener was stuck.
‘Just get it off,’ panted Stella, almost blind with desire. She heard the faint tear of fabric before it floated to the ground. Standing in only her heels, he pressed her back against the wall, their lips smashing against one another’s in their urgency. Then suddenly Johnny pulled away and, looking her in the eye, slowly licked two fingers and lowered them onto her warm belly. She was already wet between her thighs before his fingers dipped and curled, pushing inside her, massaging her ripe clitoris until she groaned. She moved her feet apart and lifted her arms above her head, where she grabbed onto a light fitting on the wall.
He curled his fingers, damp from her juices, around her right breast and almost took it whole into his mouth, before pulling back to bite her brown stud-like nipple so soft and sweetly, that she arched her back in pleasure.
‘I didn’t know pretty boys were so good at sex,’ she whispered, the words gasping out. Her skin felt as if it was burning, sexual heat firing up every nerve ending.
‘Only good? I can do better than that.’
They both laughed as Stella began unbuttoning his shirt, while Johnny lifted her into his arms and into the bedroom, tapping the door behind him with his foot so it closed with a gentle click.
24
The wedding of Laura Hildon, fashion editor of Rive magazine, and Max Carlton, one of the hottest young investment bankers in the City, was held in Hildon Castle, a stately pile set against the stunning backdrop of the Welsh mountains. As Laura was Henry and Eleanor Hildon’s only child and they were one of the wealthiest families in Wales, they were both determined to do her proud. Forty-eight hours of celebrations had been planned, kicking off with a themed party on the lawns tonight, but that was just the appetizer. Over the course of the weekend there would be the wedding ceremony itself followed by a black tie dinner for six hundred, then a midnight firework display rumoured to have cost a quarter of a million pounds. It would all come to a polished finish with a brunch for all the guests still left standing on the Sunday. For such an event, only the very best wardrobe would do, so Laura’s Lacroix couture bridal gown, made and modified under Cassandra’s guidance, had arrived from Paris the day before in the back seat of Henry Hildon’s Bentley which had been specially sent to collect it. At Laura’s request Cassandra and Giles had been the first guests to arrive at Hildon Castle to oversee a private dress rehearsal with the hand-picked hair and make-up artists. The two of them had spent the last hour walking around the grounds, supposedly to get some fresh Welsh air before the preparations began; but in actual fact, Cassandra was desperate to do a full inventory of the estate. Yes, Hildon Castle was absolutely in the middle of nowhere. Cassandra had chartered a helicopter to take them there, which she had intended to write off against a location scout fee, but apart from its distance from the metropolis – any metropolis – she was unable to find fault with it. The castle was surrounded by beds of lupins, peonies and delphiniums which softened its hard granite and slate edges. There was a crystal-clear lake and a thick pine forest that melted into the foothills and the house itself was dramatic with towers and narrow windows, and open and welcoming too.
‘Love is in the air, darling,’ said Giles dramatically, picking up a pale pink rose that had fallen to the ground and handing it to Cassandra. ‘Perhaps tonight will be the night when we both find love.’