DeAnne's Dilemma (Naughty Forties Book 2)

by Raven McAllan

  “On the terrace.”

  “Right oh…”

  Thank God the sound of her footsteps faded. Quinn gave one long hard thrust and we both came so hard and fast and so loudly, it was a wonder they didn’t hear us on the aforementioned terrace. Which was a full four hundred yards away.

  Actually, I couldn’t care a scooby if they heard us in the village. It was bloody fantastic.

  Chapter Four

  By the time I made it to the terrace with a glib excuse for being late if it was needed, Sandie still hadn’t arrived, and Beatrix was nigh on foaming at the mouth.

  The malevolent look she sent me seemed way out of proportion to the crime I might have committed. I mean, I wasn’t even the last one there, and if she’d had the decency to tell us we’d be needed…

  Actually, I can’t say that would have made any difference. I’d still have gone for a quickie if asked. Couldn’t deny myself when it came to making love with Quinn.

  Making love? What deep dark closet had that jumped out of?

  “So glad you’ve remembered your role in all this.” Beatrix narrowed her eyes, and something at the back of my mind leaped to life. Where the hell had I seen her before?

  Thank goodness, before I blurted that out and maybe opened a whole new can of worms—I was sure it was something unpleasant I associated with her—about thirty seconds later, Sandie arrived at a run. Her hair was all over the place and the once artfully placed behind one ear, sprig of heather was hanging, wilting, upside down like an extra earring. She still had her killer heels on and wore a cat that got the cream smile.

  Her arrival stopped me letting my mouth shoot off.

  “Sorry, peeps, got sidetracked.” She smoothed her hair down, did her best to revive the heather and tugged her dress straight. “I’m ready now.”

  “Sex-tracked more like,” Rhonda whispered to me. “Lucky bitch.” Rhonda’s hubs was away doing something hush hush for the government, and she was here with Tina, another of our mates, whose other half was evidently on the same whatever it was. They didn’t say, and we never asked. Some things were best left alone. It made for a lot of giggly, coffee laced with whatever evenings though. We, and several of our other friends, did the Awesome Ladies Supper Club, whenever we could. It was a play on where we lived. Orrsholm, and supper didn’t just mean food. Yeah, took me a while to work it out as well. Supper as in one who supped.

  “Anyway, what next?” Sandie asked, and I stopped thinking about coffee with whisky, and about how to hold my stomach in and not let the girls hang low or go free instead.

  “You hide your hickey?” I suggested. It was so noticeable it shouted, “I’ve been fucked.” “Just because it’s a wedding pic.” Not at all because I was jealous. Not now at any rate. I hoped I didn’t show any evidence, but oh boy, wasn’t I in the same situation. “Otherwise if you get it, why not flaunt it, you lucky sod.”

  “I am, aren’t I? Boy, he was… Oh, fu—shi—er, flip,” Sandie stammered and then went red. She’d split up with a no-good scumbag a few months before and on her own admission didn’t trust her judgment in men. “Might be a good idea. Anyone got some concealer?”

  Beatrix sighed and fished a slim stick out of a pocket. Sandie took it with a sweet and insincere smile. “Proper little right-hand woman, eh?” she said quietly to me as she accepted it with a saccharine smile and said “thank you” out loud. “But why does it make me want to bitch-slap her?”

  “Too good to be true?” I suggested. I totally understood. The woman had a way of rubbing people up the wrong way without even trying. I wouldn’t want to be her other half.

  “Probably. Bet she pulls wings off flies.”

  After a lot of to-ing and fro-ing, Beatrix eventually arranged us to her satisfaction with only a few very caustic comments, one of which was about how I seemed to have changed shape and my color had heightened. “You’ll need to make sure you’re slightly behind one of the others.”

  “She can’t. She’s the boss bridesmaid,” Leslie objected. “Got to be up at the front.”

  “Then she shouldn’t look like that,” Beatrix snapped. “She looks…” Her voice trailed off.

  Bitch. Now, I’d love to say I don’t get that riled easily, but that would be an out and out lie. I do. As Quinn once said, from placid to harridan in thirty seconds or less. And when I do, take cover.

  This was a take cover time. I straightened and out of the corner of my eyes saw my fellow maids exchange amused glances. They knew me and my temper.

  “Well, honey,” I drawled and almost made myself sick with the sugary, saccharine, sweet tone. Behind me Sandie snorted, and Rhonda pinched my waist in warning to back off. She recognized that tone. However, it was too late.

  “Believe me, there was a very good, six foot four, dark haired, blue eyed, sexy as hell reason for that. You see, I’ve just been thoroughly fucked.”

  Sandie high-fived. “And me. Though no blue eyes involved. More of a dark, dark grey. We’re allowed.” She stared at the hapless, red-faced—though I guess not through a good fuck—photographer, while I rapidly went through the guest list to try to remember who had dark, dark grey eyes.

  “So,” Sandie said in an exaggerated manner. “What’s your excuse, honey? Sheer bitchiness?”

  Leslie, usually the peacemaker, added her two pennorth. “Lucky sods, both of you. I swear I’d need a manual to find my lady bits.” She rolled her eyes as she used the euphemism we all hated. “I’ll have to live vicariously through you both.”

  Hmm, probably not. “Yeah well, now you’ll have to live through the rest of these photos or we’ll never get away, and you definitely will need a manual. On how to dispose of the body.”

  Even Beatrix laughed at that, and I felt a right rotten bastard. Oh, for all of four seconds until she rearranged her features into a scowl and stamped her foot.

  “Disgusting, now let’s get these bloody photos taken so you can go and get drunk and I can finish my job.”

  “Blimey, she was semi-human for all of half a minute,” Rhonda whispered, as, chastened like a crowd of unruly schoolkids on a day out, we did as we were told. “Roll on the fizz.”

  Ten minutes later, the fizz did indeed roll on, and I leaned against the wall, sipped out of a flute, and wondered how long we’d be kept waiting for the bride and groom to reappear from their separate photos and we could do the whole food, speech, and sigh in relief bit.

  Quinn appeared next to me like a jack-in-the-box and swapped my half empty glass for a full one.

  “You trying to get me drunk?”

  He grinned and took a sip out of my old glass. “To have my wicked way with you? No need. And I hear half the wedding party knows that now?”

  “Who klyped?”

  He tapped his teeth and mimed a zipping action. “My lips are sealed.”

  “Well tell your source they gave out duff information. It was only about a tenth. And of those ten, two others are in the same boat.”

  Tina, along with Miriam, Tavia, Nicole, and Michelle, who ran the local pub and coffee shop between them, had been loitering, to pull faces and make us laugh if necessary, we were told and cheered when Sandie and I owned up to our extracurricular activities. Tavia had shot her hand up in the air and waved it impatiently. “And me. I did, too.”

  Blimey, there had been a lot of illicit fucking going on. I wonder where the others had found to go to do the deed. It might be a big house with a fair few nooks and crannies, but there were a hundred odd guests milling about. No doubt the next supper club would be all about “places I fucked and stuffed my skirt in my mouth to stop screaming when I came”. Great fun.

  “What’s that expression in aid of?” Quinn asked as we were at last called to the top table to sit down and wait for the bride and groom to make their grand entrance. “Very enigmatic.”

  It was? Blimey, that was the last thing you could usually say about me.

  “I’m hungry,” I said. Well, it was true, but I chose not to say
what for. Quails eggs or Quinn.

  “Okay, have it your own way.” Quinn was all over amiable as he held out my seat.

  I guess he was satisfied and sated, just like I was. I wondered if he was as horny and ready for round two as I was?

  “So am I.” He winked. “But not for food.”

  Down, girl. Remember whose day it is.

  He took the seat next to me and stretched his long legs out, a stance which of course pulled the material of his trousers tight over his impressive bulge. I risked a swift second glance. Either he was budgie smuggling, or he was as up for it as I was. Up being the operative word. Well, he had said he was hungry but not for food. Who could I quiz over places for fumbles?

  The fanfare—I kid you not, a fanfare on two bugles—sounded loud and long before I could think on that, and we all stood up and began to clap and cheer as Sandy and Alistair came in.

  Both flushed and well, yes, you get the drift.

  “More babies in nine months?” Quinn whispered as we all sat down again, and the waitrons began to serve more fizz.

  “Who knows?” I went hot, cold, and hot again.

  Shit, hell, and bloody booties. Who’s not on the pill and who didn’t even think of protection?

  How not to feel hot horny and ready for another bout of hot, frantic sex.

  Chapter Five

  I got through the rest of the day, and evening, on automatic. I guess no one noticed because no one said anything snarky, sarky, or suggestive. Quinn hovered, and every so often I thought I saw a shadow cross his face, but the lights were low and people were hooching, or whatever you call those strange noises we all make when we dance a reel or the Dashing White Sergeant or some such thing.

  We danced together, both a few smoochies and the inevitable riotous ones and when he did his duty with each of the other bridesmaids I rested my aching feet. To be honest, I was twitchy, and I wanted to know what our earlier, whatever you chose to call it meant to him. For that alone, not my tootsies, I yearned for the festivities to end.

  I tell you, (I seem to be saying that a lot, sorry, but otherwise how do you know I need to mention something?) I was so pleased I’d ditched the underwear. I was sweating.

  We waved goodbye to the bride—who had magicked another bouquet from somewhere and hit Sandie in the face with it—and groom. They drove off with a clatter of several old boots, three coat hangers, and four tin cans attached to their car’s bumper.

  Then there was that “wedding over, what now, do we go and get pissed atmosphere”.

  Not for me.

  I yearned for a long, luxurious hot as I felt like it, shower, or even better a bubble bath and a cup of tea. In that order. Maybe not the bath. I’d probably fall asleep and drown.

  “Any idea where they’re off to?” Tavia asked me as we walked back inside. “For once Sandy was remarkably closed lipped.”

  “She doesn’t know.” Sandy had told me Alistair insisted it was to be a surprise. “Just had to take a coat, a bikini, walking shoes, and flipflops. Her mum is having the twins for the week. Sandy refused any longer. She said, the bugger, i.e. Alistair, not her mum, had covered all scenarios.”

  “Ah well, I’ll wait for the postcard.” Tavia waved to Nicole, who was gesturing at her watch. “Guess that’s the signal we need to go and check all is well back at the pub.”

  She’d mentioned earlier they had promised their head barman they’d go back for lousing out, i.e., last orders and closing. It seems that the sight of them en masse emptied the bar of punters in record time. No idea why, as each and every one is harmless. Generally. I did hear Michelle had thrown one bolshie, boozed-up customer over her shoulder and into the duck pond, but that is only hearsay.

  “See you at the next supper club?”

  I nodded. “Looking forward to it.”

  “To what?”

  “Quinn, for goodness’ sake, are you stalking me?”

  He’d appeared by my side again. This time his bowtie was undone, his waistcoat ditto, and his demeanor more relaxed than I’d seen it in ages. In one hand he had a half-drunk glass of wine. “Want some?”

  “Ta.” I took a sip, but water would have been preferable. I just knew I needed all my wits about me. I handed him it back. He downed the contents in two mouthfuls and twirled the glass between his fingers.

  “You’re making me dizzy.” A bit of an exaggeration but not too much. “Are you stalking me?”

  I do hope so, as long as it’s for the right reasons.

  “Yup, got it in one.” He put one arm round me, and I automatically relaxed against him. “I like making you dizzy. Stops you overthinking.”

  The hug was warm, comforting, and reassuring. It reminded me that in his arms was where I wanted to be—once we got all the excess baggage ditched.

  Now that might take time and could be a problem. He wouldn’t talk about it last time, so why could I assume he would this?

  Think positive. This is not a dilemma. It’s a potential solution.

  “Dee, do you really want to go back inside to bop?” he asked in a somber voice. “Or shall we go somewhere and talk?” His face was a blank canvas, but his fingers were white where he held his wineglass so tightly it was a wonder it didn’t snap. “Somewhere private where we won’t be disturbed unless we want to be. There’s a lot to discuss.” He hesitated. “Especially as I’ve got a month off, and I’ll be shar—” He sighed. “Not unless you agree. So, talk?”

  Now I knew what the expression “the air stood still” meant.

  Did I?

  “Yes, I’d like that, but I need a pee first.”

  “Want any help holding the dress?” he asked with an over the top leer.

  “No, I do not,” I said with a giggle. “Peeing is private.”

  I left him in the foyer and made my way back down the corridor to the bride and bridesmaids only cupboard. It was a lot easier in there with only me. I did what I had to do—and it wasn’t half a relief “to go”—and turned to leave when I spotted the underwear from hell still on the floor where I’d dropped it. I glanced around. There was no way I was taking it with me. I could just see the looks if I went out with that over my arm. The helicopters might have disappeared, but I knew now how many mobile phones were around.

  What should I do with it? I spied a half-hidden waste bin under the sink where earlier it had been shielded by the towel. That would do. I stuffed the all in one into it and shut the lid with a clank. Time to go and talk.

  I sailed back to the foyer.

  No Quinn.

  Where the hell was he? I suppose he could have nipped to the loo as well, but surely, he’d have said before I went? I doubt he’d be caught short in the few minutes I’d been away. My pee must be in contention for one of the fastest pees on record.

  He couldn’t have vanished into thin air. Unless he’d not realized I was staying at the hotel. I’d demurred at first, because let’s face it I lived less than half a mile away, and could walk across the field if need be, but Sandy had been adamant. I was not going to walk home at silly o’clock. So, I’d been given a suite as befitting the chief bridesmaid. I assume Quinn had a similar one as he was best man.

  However, I had no idea where it was, or where he was.

  Sounded like a good idea for a crime thriller. The case of the now you see him, now you don’t movie star.

  Shut up, De.

  I wandered to the door and looked outside. At this time of year, it didn’t really get truly dark, which was why I would have been happy walking, or cycling home. As long as I hadn’t got the holdy in thing on or the stilettos.

  All of the guests had vanished back inside to enjoy the last hour of music, booze and food.

  Except, it seemed, two of them.

  I could hear raised voices from somewhere to my left. And I could swear one of them was my ex’s.

  Intrigued, I squinted until I could see the outline of two people standing a good three feet apart.

  “Go to hell.” Yep, tha
t was Quinn. “It was no last time, will be no next time, and no, fucking not on your Nellie no, any other time. Now fuck off. You’ve caused enough trouble already.”

  Interesting. I wondered who he was talking to.

  No one can say reticence is my middle name. More likely opinionated, arsy, and yes, nosy.

  I walked across the gravel as silently as I could—not all that difficult now I had bare feet—and ignored the way those blinking little stones dug into and stuck between my toes. What was a little pain—and I’m no pain fetishist—to discover what, or who, was bugging my ex? If anyone was going to bug him, it was me. In a good way.

  The couple were so engrossed in whatever was going on I got to within a yard or so without being noticed.

  Then the woman—oh, I forgot to say one person was woman shaped, so I assumed it was a she—put her hand on Quinn’s arm.

  “Quinn, please why not? You know how I feel. How we both feel. You did last time. You came.”

  Did he now? Was that came with cum or came some other way?

  “I know, my mistake. I don’t feel the same way as you. Never have. Due to your selfishness, you lost me my wife.”

  First I’d heard of it. I stood still, and hardly dared to breathe as I waited to see what happened next.

  “Well, needs must. So, will you?”

  “I told you, no, no, and no. Not in my lifetime. Why should I?”

  “She needs you.”

  She? No other fucking she needs him. He’s mine. I jerked at that thought. Yeah, it’s true. Mine all mine … or else.

  “No,” Quinn said in a harsh voice that made me flinch. I wouldn’t want to be on the receiving end of that. “She wants things. Things I’m not prepared to give. So, no.” He folded his arms.

  “You’ll regret it.”

  He shrugged. “No more than last time—after.”

  I had to make a decision. Speak up or as they say in the marriage service forever hold my peace. I’ve never been much of a one for doing that, so I took a deep breath and walked forward, making sure I did scrunch the gravel now.

  “Darling, have you been waiting long?” I leaned on Quinn’s back and put my head onto this shoulder. “You know how it is.”