by Megan McCoy
I was in space, but not falling. I cracked open an eye, afraid of what I saw. Hoping the man who held my wrist wasn’t an illusion of my fanciful mind, that this wasn’t a trick created from a desperate mind, while in reality, I was plummeting to the frothing sea and sharp rocks hundreds of feet below.
But it was not an illusion. A man held my right wrist.
“Quick, swing your other hand to me.”
I hesitated; I didn’t have the strength left to swing anything.
“Do it, Cora. Do it now!”
I swung my hand up to the stranger, and he grabbed it.
“Kick off those ridiculous shoes, swing your legs up and wedge your toes into a crack on the count of three.”
“But-”
“Do it!” he yelled over the crashing sound of the tumultuous waves below and the thunder above. “One, two, three-”
I swung and managed to wedge my feet into a crack that forced me to bend my knees and push up. My rescuer was able to slide his hands down to my arms.
“One more time, lass, I have you now, push on the count of three.”
I did, and at the same time, he pulled. I went up over the ledge, landing right on top of him. His hood that had been hiding his features had fallen back from his head, giving me my first view of my rescuer.
“Cam?”
His eyes gazed at me with the same intensity as they had ten years ago, the first and last time I saw him. “Cam Moore?”
“Cora.” His voice sounded gruff and smoky all at the same time, just like I remembered. Despite the near-death experience my body and psyche had just been through, I responded to the sound of his voice. I caught his scent, and it all came back, awakening every part of my body, every cell that made me. And I leaped off him in fear and shock.
What the hell was going on? Did I die?
I was so shaky from my injured ankle and thoughts of death, I had nothing left. I could hardly stand, and stumbled dangerously close to the edge.
“Bloody hell, woman, if you go over again, I’m not saving you.”
He stood now and grabbed hold of my arms to steady me. Just like years ago in the pub. Holding me upright, he pulled me in tight against him as he guided us to the stairs. His hands felt like they were searing my skin.
I could barely keep myself in check and wanted to find some hole to hide in and cry. “I can manage, thank you,” I croaked. I had to get out of here and away from this dark demon bent on torturing me with Cam’s memory.
“Some gratitude, Cora, I just saved your life. You could say thank you.”
I whipped around, almost falling down the narrow, circular staircase that would take us back into the heart of the castle.
Reaching out and grabbing hold of my arms to keep me from falling, his expression suddenly changed to a smirk.
My eyes narrowed. I desperately wanted to wipe that smirk off the demon’s face.
He leaned in, and there it was again: man smell, his smell.
I felt that familiar pooling I hadn’t felt since our time together, ten years ago, right before he disappeared and was presumed dead. I wasn’t so innocent anymore; I’d had my shares of knocks since then.
I’d learned that I needed to depend on myself, that those old stories I grew up with no longer existed, and there was no handsome, manly man who was going to save me. In the words of my therapist, if it’s going to be, it’s up to me.
“Please, whoever you are, stop touching me. I need to go.”
The smirk changed to something else, something not clear, but a mixture of remorse and hope passed in his eyes before he shut it down and made his expression blank. “Cora, it’s me, Cam. Are you sure you’re okay? Maybe I should take you to the hospital?”
I shook my head. “No, thank you. I’m with the bus tour, and this was our last stop for today. We’ll be heading back to town now. Goodbye, whoever you are, thank you for saving my life.” I hobbled as quickly as I could to the bus and ran to the very back.
I expected to turn and see no one standing in the parking lot. I expected the phantom of Cam to be gone when I sat down and looked out the back window. Instead, I saw that Cam imposter watching me as the bus drew away, his hands stuffed in his pants pockets.
Chapter 6
Cam
As I watched her tour bus pull away from Tintagel Castle, I wondered if someone had sabotaged the crumbling wall. If I hadn’t been there, she would be dead; we both knew it. Maybe it was fate, me saving Cora.
When she accepted that I was me, and she would, perhaps saving her life would be enough to make up for the past ten years? It was time Cora and I talked.
Chapter 7
Cora
The ride back on the tour bus was tortuously slow. My head refused to turn and look out the front window. Instead, my gaze stayed glued out the back, watching the retreating form of both the Cam imposter and Tintagel Castle.
There was no way that could be Cam. But seeing the imposter brought up so many feelings I thought had disappeared. They hadn’t disappeared, but instead were safely stored in the attic behind the cobwebs.
Don’t be an idiot, I scolded myself. Stop looking out the damn window. He is not coming for you, Cora. He didn’t then and isn’t now; he’s dead. It was a coincidence that some look-alike happened to be on the wall and saved you from tumbling to your death, nothing more.
I was still shaking from my near-death experience, the land and sky colliding into one big sheet of depression and silence. I felt very connected to the outside world at that moment: gray, dismal, and alone.
Who was that guy? I could not get past it, and how did he know I needed rescuing? The parapet had been closed, and I didn’t recognize him from the tour bus. He wasn’t part of our tour. I would have noticed his resemblance to Cam and he would have gotten on the bus. Then a thought hit me, what if he had indeed been Cam, but not for real, like an apparition?
I didn’t know what response was more appropriate given my thoughts, laughter, or goosebumps. My Igraine fantasy, and classic novels that once created my flavor for my ideal life, had become more than a guilty pleasure; they’d almost ended me.
I could feel the heaviness of unshed tears ready to burst. I hadn’t been so dangerously close to losing myself since Cam disappeared. I took some deep breaths. Get a hold of yourself, I coaxed silently.
Our tour bus finally pulled up in front of the Padstow Harbour Hotel. I wait until everyone has exited the bus to avoid my fellow passengers. I wrestled with giving the bus driver a piece of my mind. Tintagel tour indeed! I’d almost died.
But, I faced the reality of my circumstances. I had been in a place that was not part of the tour. The Cam copycat wasn’t either, so how did he know I was there? My reporter’s brain finally kicked in; I smelled a story. I would find out all about this fake Cam and why he was at the castle. Or succumb to the knowledge that the dead Cam had just saved my life.
I entered my room, double-locking the door. I tried kicking off my muddy boots. One came off no problem, the other, I had to wrangle my foot out of, and once I did, noticed a purple and blue jagged line around most of my ankle, compliments of a crumbling parapet.
I drew myself a hot bath and eased myself into the scalding water, my mind drifting back ten years. I’ll never forget the sensations I experienced when Cam first turned and looked at me. I carried hope and enthusiasm in my heart for the next five days that no other experience could rival.
I sat in the tub and let the tears stream down my cheeks. An hour later, I rose from the tub, determined to learn the mystery of the Cam impersonator. I gave myself a stern talking to as I got dressed. Cora, you’re a survivor, like the women of old, tenacious with a strong backbone. You know that wasn’t Cam; he is dead. Dead, Cora! Now, let’s find out who this specter is that is following you and what he wants.
I headed out the door and walked into a mountain of muscle.
“Cora, love, you seem lost; what can I save you from now?”
My gaze climbed fr
om the muscular chest to the face attached to the top. I tried pulling away, back to the safety of my room. But the mountain of muscle held me tight, and I couldn’t escape. Time to try out that backbone I proclaimed to have. “Who the hell are you?” I hissed.
The Cam impersonator gazed down at me with a bit of uncertainty in his eyes. “Cora, it’s me; I’m Cam. I didn’t die. I don’t know why Josh told you that all those years ago, but I’m not dead.”
“Of course, why would an impersonator tell me he was someone else? You have a reason for wanting to torture me. Is it the articles? I know someone has been following me, is it you?”
“Cora!” He shook me a little, his eyes going almost black.
Surely an imposter couldn’t do the eye thing. I’d only ever seen one person do that, the real Cam. I felt my lips tremble, and I had to bite down to keep the tears from unleashing. I tasted blood as I held myself together, unwilling to fall apart in front of this man.
He saw my struggle and didn’t move, just held me firmly in his grip. I studied my hero from earlier; he looked like my Cam, only a little older and a whole lot bigger. Tall, muscular, he could be him. No, impossible!
I kicked this guy in the shins and wiggled out of his clutches, slamming the door and locking it behind me. I slid down to the floor and finally let the floodgates open. Grief welled up inside me, and I couldn’t keep my sobs inside. The past ten years came pouring out of me. I knew he was on the other side; I knew he could hear me, and I didn’t care. Let him think me dimwitted or weak; it didn’t matter anymore.
“Cora!” He pounded the door. “Cora, damn it, open this door this instant!” Ignoring the constant pounding, I indulged myself. Crying over my losses: Cam, my parents, our baby.
I cried for the years of nothing but climbing a mountain that seemed to have no top; late nights; missed meals; travel; putting up with ridiculous people; sucking up to get donation money; the senseless self-centered rich bastards. They seemed desensitized to anyone else’s needs but their own.
“That’s quite enough,” said the voice on the other side of the door. “I am kicking in this damned door, and I will remind you exactly who I am with every smack I land on your perfect ass and every stroke on your clit. With every damn orgasm!”
He punctured this last word as he kicked in the door, entered, and then slammed it back in place, his black eyes landing on me. I was slack-jawed, trying to process what had just happened. He threw the safety latch across the door to keep it closed.
He marched me over to the bed, and sat down, pulling me over his lap. I gasped as the Cam impersonator upended me over his lap. “I tried talking, but apparently you only respond to one thing.”
I kicked my legs. “Stop it, don’t you dare.” The first spank landed before I could get out anything intelligent, just a whoomph as my belly shifted with the impact.
He spoke in a conversational tone as he rained down blow after blow on my backside. “Do you remember when we met, Cora? How you stood just inside the door, biting your lip.”
“Ow, stop it, please, it hurts.”
“No, Cora, I’m going to spank you until every ounce of denial is gone. You’re not getting up until I feel you understand that I’m for real and forever.” Every word punctuated, with a smack to my ass.
He tipped me, forcing me to place my hands on the floor, and the moment I did, he reached around and undid my jeans. He pulled me back into position as my jeans slid down my legs.
I never wore underwear with my jeans. Knowing my naked ass was in full view and no longer had any protection filled me with mortification. I felt Cam harden beneath me when he tipped me back over his lap. His hand started up again, he was so strong, and his hand felt like a paddle.
As he beat out a rhythm, I noticed a change in my body’s response to his hand on my ass. My squealing and pleases, which I’m sure the entire hotel could hear, died down. An enticing fire began to build up inside of me, my squeals changing to gentle moans.
Reading my body, he stopped and rested one hand on my flaming ass while the other hand pressed into my lower back to keep me in place. “Do you remember when you finally spoke to me, you said ‘A little presumptuous, aren’t you?’ Do you remember?”
My breath caught. I didn’t tell anyone about my first words to Cam.
“What was the first word you said to me?” I asked him.
“Enchanted.”
Cam moved his hand to the underside of my ass and started spanking again; this time, my sit spot received all the attention.
Like kindling to a fire, the heat zinged and ignited in my core. I felt the dampness increasing, no doubt showing on my inner thighs.
“That’s it, love, stop fighting, give in to me.”
“I can’t,” I panted.
“Why is this so hard to grasp, Cora? I’m not dead.”
“Because the alternative is worse.”
“The alternative?” He looked genuinely puzzled.
“Yes, the alternative, if you’re Cam, and you’re alive, that means you lied to me by allowing me to believe for ten years that you were dead. That is the unthinkable alternative.” I hung limply over his lap, drained. “How do I know it’s you?”
“What is one thing that no one else would know about our time together?” he asked me. He pulled me up to his lap and stared into my eyes. “Please, Cora, there has to be something.”
I thought about our night, replaying our time together. I kept coming back to our night of crazy, wanton sex. “If you’re Cam, then tell me if I was a virgin.”
“Yes.”
No hesitation. Okay, I tried for something more challenging. “How many times did you make love to me?”
“Three.”
Again, no hesitation. “Did you spank me that night?”
He grinned. “Oh yeah, I did, and you loved it, but it wasn’t punishment like right now; it was erotic. I wanted you to feel how many ways I could make you hot. I believe I told you that I was the boss, the alpha, and if you ever stepped out of line, I would spank your pretty behind with your brush. You had an antique wooden hairbrush. You thought it an innocuous Christmas present at the time; little did you know the kind of sting it could bring down on an unprotected backside. You promised then, to be a good girl, to listen to me, do you remember?”
I nodded, my cheeks suddenly blazing with embarrassment.
“Do you still have it?”
I nodded again.
“Go get it, little girl, and bring it to me.”
His words provided a sobering effect like cold water tossed over one’s head. “Oh, I don’t think so, Mr. You-have-some-explaining-to-do, and until you apologize to my satisfaction, I’m not getting anything.”
His words pissed me off, and I was ready for a good fight. He stood me up and virtually carried me kicking into the bathroom, where he found my antique wooden hairbrush. He grinned. “Just like I remember.”
Back at the bed and over his lap, he brought the hairbrush down on my sit spot, and my howling renewed as he continued to lecture me.
“I can’t give in to you, Cam; you’re a liar.”
“You can, you will, and I am not a liar, Cora. You made good choices despite being dealt a bad hand. I’m proud of you and what you’ve done with your life. You are an amazing woman, Cora. Now stop fighting me.”
“No.”
He picked up the pace and intensity until I was a sobbing mess. I hung limply and almost became hypnotized by the spanking, which seemed to go on for hours. Cam cupped my ass and then slid one finger inside my soaked entrance.
I bucked my hips, trying to get relief.
Cam chuckled as he parted my legs; I could feel how puffy my lips were, swollen with the need for release. He began to pump his fingers in my silky folds.
“Please, Cam. Please, I need… I need…”
“I know what you need, Cora.” And as he spoke the words, he plunged two more fingers into my steamy apex and began to pump me in earnest while his thumb circle
d and played with my clit. I was screaming my orgasm in seconds and was already riding the wave to another.
He suddenly stopped, but before I could groan out my protest, he moved me between his thighs, wrapped his powerful arms around my legs, and pulled me up and back until my open knees rested on his thighs like a wheelbarrow.
He dipped in his tongue in and gave me a long slow lick. “Oh, Cora, you taste as good as I remember, sweet and tangy.”
I squealed as he began lapping at my entrance and running his tongue back and forth across my clit. My orgasm building, again, and I was desperate for release. I screamed with the next one. I felt like I was rising and crashing on an endless sensual sea.
He righted me to a standing position.
I was dizzy after having had my head down. And was thankful that Cam had a firm grip on me.
“Were not even close to being done, Cora.” He laid me back on the bed and started to strip. I gazed up into his eyes, finally seeing him for the first time that day. His almost black eyes held an intensity that made my body parts clench in anticipation. His tanned skin was a stark contrast to my paleness.
Cam’s hair was longer than he used to wear it, and his body was fuller with way more muscle than I remembered. His shoulders were massive and with a broad back and arms I couldn’t hope to wrap my fingers around. He was unmarred by tattoos, except for one, an intricate letter C that was over his heart. My gaze tore back to his eyes, which were intense with desire.
“I told you, Cora, it’s only you. Will only ever be you.”
On that last word, he thrust into me, spearing me with his stiff shaft. We both groaned with the intensity. “My God, Cora, you’re so moist and tight, like sliding into heaven all over again.”
He set a pace of steady pumping strokes, building a fire deep inside my core. I felt an electric current shoot through me with such force the earth shifted beneath me, and I let out a long keen so alien in sound that a part of my brain was processing what that had been while my body rocketed by an intense orgasm that ripped through us both.