Strung

by Costa, Bella

  "Stop or we'll crash," I moan.

  "Then concentrate," he murmurs, but doesn't stop.

  I spin the bike around awkwardly and head in the direction of the glen. Distractions are making me ride a lot slower than I would like. Chayton's mouth has found an earlobe and he's tugging it with his teeth, sending shivers down my spine.

  "I'm serious - stop!"

  "Okay." His mouth stops teasing and his hands take over, starting at my knees and working up the inside of my thighs.

  "You're not playing fair," I whine.

  "And you are?" he protests as his hands, slowly move over my crotch, pausing for a squeeze then squirreling under my layers of clothing to caress the bare skin of my stomach.

  "What do you mean? I'm not flirting with you." Aarrrgh! "Or molesting you..." Oh hell! His hands have found their way under the fabric of my bra. I stop the quad bike and switch it off.

  "Yes, you are. You've been waggling your delectable derriere for me all morning," he murmurs into my neck again and squeezes my nipples. "And... I know you're not wearing panties. That does things to me."

  "What? How the hell do you know I'm not wearing panties?" And please tell me what things it does to you!

  "I can tell. These jeans are really tight."

  "I could be wearing a thong!” I frown over my shoulder, pouting.

  "But you're not. I would see them above your waist band when you sit." His lips graze my neck from one earlobe to the next, making me shiver.

  "Smart arse!"

  "Do you have any idea how hot you look, straddling my saddle?"

  "I bet not as hot as you on the Rocket," I purr. His fingers twist both nipples sharply and the pain connects in my groin.

  "You really like my bike, don't you?"

  "The bike, is awesome, but you on it...makes me wet." I tilt my head to the side to give him better access to the skin below my ear.

  "I've created a monster!" he growls. "To the Shag Shack! Now!" And he's not to be argued with. I'm only too happy to comply as exploration of the glen is forgotten.

  ~.~

  I hang up the Blackberry, rubbing my temples. This morning's playful detour to the cabin, feels like weeks ago. Work had to be done eventually. While we were out this morning, Savannah had Morgan bring a desk into my room and set up a computer, phone and Internet connection for me. It's comfy and quiet; just what I need and until we get a proper little office set up, Grace will be using it as well. Might as well turn my whole room into an office, given the fact that I don't appear to need it for sleeping in. I run through my diary and dial Grant.

  "Hey."

  "Hi Acacia. How's mountain life? You're not converting to hillbilly are you? I mean, I don't think Banjo Boogie is quite your style."

  "Somehow, I can't imagine you watching Deliverance, Grant. So the fact that you are familiar with Banjo-Boogie-playing-Hillbillies, concerns me."

  "My past is catching up to me. Please don't tell," he pleads playfully.

  I laugh, then get serious, still not sure how much I can trust him after recent revelations. "What's the progress with Edward's latest drama?"

  "Well, I've spoken to him already. The restraining order is in effect. Her council has advised that she will not be contesting the divorce and I believe she is leaving Washington State."

  "Well that's good news."

  "Yes it is. Oh and Victoria rang earlier. She wanted me to get a police clearance on a potential counsellor. Have you spoken to Grace about where she would rather be based?"

  "No I haven't, but I have a fairly good idea what her answer will be."

  "That good in the woods, huh?"

  "Heavenly," I smile. An idea forms slowly and I run with it. "Grant? Can I ask you something?"

  "Sure."

  "Did you know Robert? I mean from before. Before you met me?" The silence stretches out tellingly.

  "Sorry, just scratching my memory cells. I don't think so. I mean I knew of him. He is in the public eye, you know."

  "What about earlier, at school maybe, or at Uni?"

  "Let me think... You know, I may have done. I think I remember an obnoxious jock. It could have been him. I hung with the intellectuals though, so we wouldn't have mixed. Why?"

  "Just wondering. You are the same age and from the same part of Seattle."

  "I get it...Yes it is highly likely that we shared space at some point, but it would have been in parallel universes."

  "Okay."

  "Sure?"

  "Yes. I should go, there's a lot to catch up on. Let me know how it goes with the counsellor, and don't promise her time at Donavan's Pass. Grace might grow fangs and pay you a midnight visit."

  "No problem. Cheers then."

  "Bye."

  I hang up and stare out the window. Curious. I hadn't meant to ask about Robert. I hadn't even thought about the potential connection since Chayton mentioned it the night of our fight. It just came out. In retrospect, I would have preferred to ask Grant the question face to face. His body language would have told me more.

  Oh well. I spend the next two hours, prioritising the bills and checking through the accounts before emailing instructions to the accountant. Reluctantly, I admit that it will be a relief, when our agreement with Seattle's Men-in-tights is official, at the end of the month.

  A startling mental image of Chayton, in green tights and tunic, flits before me and I burst into gales of laughter. Hearing a scrape at the door, I turn to catch Chayton staring at me in amusement and I laugh even harder. Eventually the tears are streaming down my reddened face and my lungs are screaming for air.

  "Are you laughing at my expense?" he says in mock horror. He combs his hair back with one hand as he saunters over in bare feet. His initial amusement has been replaced by burning curiosity.

  "No... Yes..." I snicker, spinning my swivel chair to face him properly.

  "And what exactly is it about me, that you are finding so amusing, Ms. Ward?" He leans over me, placing his hands on the armrests of my chair, caging me in.

  "I imagined you dressed like Robin Hood. The tights are a very good touch by the way. Very sexy."

  "I'm not sure pond sludge green is my colour," he comments dryly, his eyes flashing dangerously.

  "No. You're right. That's it. Take the tights off!" I tilt my head up to kiss him.

  "Maybe I will, but not just yet. I still have a world of work to do."

  "Are you sure? I'm almost finished here," I plead.

  "Don't," he moans against my forehead. "The permanent Staff are here. I thought you might want to meet them."

  "Oh yes, okay. Rain check on the tights?"

  "Rain check on the tights," he nods. "Come on Ms. Ward."

  I take Chayton's offered hand and let him lead me through the house to the kitchen.

  A gritty looking man, with a sour face, stands stiffly in the kitchen entrance, giving the pups’ dirty looks as they sniff around his work boots. Leaning casually against a counter top is a young girl, no older that nineteen. She has a good figure and a really pretty face, with sparkling blue eyes that don't miss a thing.

  She certainly doesn't miss my hand in Chayton's and I sense her disappointment. I don't blame her really. He is quite the catch.

  "This is Bruce, our caretaker. This is his daughter Tracy. She works as housekeeper in the winter and doubles up as camp guide in the summer. She is an excellent cook." Tracy's cheeks flush at the praise.

  "Bruce, Tracy, this is Acacia. Her shelter will be using some of the cabins when we don't have the usual groups of kids here. Cabins one and two are currently occupied."

  "Nice to meet you," says Tracy, offering her hand with a winning smile. If she is still jealous, she hides it well.

  "Likewise," I reply shaking her hand.

  Bruce just offers a small dismissive wave and grumbles something that might be a greeting, then turns and tramps out of the door.

  "Don't mind daddy. He suffers from MOPSH."

  "MOPSH?” I ask confused. "I haven'
t heard of that one."

  "Probably because he invented it. Malfunction of Polite Social Humour," she grins.

  "Oh. Right," I smile. Whatever polite social traits her father lacks, Tracy appears to have in bucket loads.

  "I have to get back to work. I'll be a couple of hours," Chayton says, giving me a peck on the lips.

  "If you must," I pout and watch him saunter off, his bare feet reminding me of what we are missing.

  "I've never seen C.J. with a girlfriend before," says Tracy.

  "Oh?" That's right. The press call him C.J. I wonder what the J stands for. It's weird thinking of him as anything other than Chayton.

  "Well I did see him caught with a few girls on the celeb news a long time ago, but that was before I started working here. He doesn't bring girlfriends up here. Want some tea of coffee before I start clearing up all the dust?"

  "Coffee, please. Sorry about the dust. It was the earthquake."

  "I know, isn't it ironic?"

  "Isn't what ironic?"

  "Well I spend three weeks in the earthquake capital and the earthquake happens here. Dad and I have been visiting family in L.A." she explains.

  "Oh. Yes ironic." So no girlfriends at Donavan's Pass? Hmmm. Does that include the cabin?

  "It will be nice to have another woman to talk to, but please tell me to shut up if I talk too much," she babbles on, fussing with the pups as we wait for the water to boil.

  "The kids will love these guys."

  "I'm sure they'll love the kids."

  "Do you want me to bring your coffee?"

  "Actually yes please. I'll be in the living room."

  "Okay, I'm making one for Grace as well. She is really nice," she smiles genuinely.

  "Yes she is." It is time to talk to Grace about giving up her social life and relocating to the hills. I doubt I will have any opposition.

  ~.~

  12th April

  There is a peculiar day of the year. It is a day that cannot easily be predicted. It's not marked in diaries, publicised or even given a name. This day is peculiar because of a rather strange but enormously uplifting phenomenon. This day is today.

  I don't recall ever experiencing anything quite like it, when I lived in Africa. I suspect has something to do with the climate at certain latitudes. I wonder how many people will slow down enough today to notice it and appreciate it. I do - and I love it. The windows are wide open and a soft breeze is dancing through the room.

  I sniff the air. Oh yes. Today is definitely the day. All the tiny leaf buds on the trees, all the spring shoots, pushing up through the ground, the total absence of snow and frost; none of these things herald the onset of spring quite like this. Today is the day when the temperature rises just that one degree. That one degree, that means the difference between the sterile winter air that only the strongest of smells can permeate and the warmer summer air, rich with fragrances of pine, grass, damp earth, sun and life.

  The assault on my olfactory system is made all the more sweet by the scent of Chayton, his heart beating steadily beneath my ear and lingering fragrance of lovemaking, body wash and clean sweat.

  "Are we taking the Rocket to Seattle?” I ask, twirling my finger through the slightly damp curls on his chest. It has been a magical few days since Monday's earthquake; even working has been a delight. But it would be nice to see a little bit of civilisation again.

  "Of course. I wouldn't want to miss this fantastic weather!"

  I smile and shift onto my elbows to see him better. His hair is a glorious mess, spilling off his scalp and onto his forearms as he tucks his hands behind his head. His eyes are sparkling in the morning light and his stubble, from this angle, gives him a dark dangerous look.

  "Can I ask a favour?"

  "Sure, anything."

  "Well it is Friday, and I know we have that dinner thing and everything, but..."

  "You're not going to try and avoid the dinner again, are you?" he frowns.

  "No, I've given up trying.” I pout. "It's just that I have this little Friday evening habit and it's one I'd hate to break."

  "Habit huh? What is it?"

  "I want to go to SUBWAY."

  "The takeaway place?"

  I nod. "I'm kind of partial to my Meatball Marinara with everything. It's my Friday night treat."

  Chayton rolls his eyes and laughs. "Is that all? I was expecting drugs, gambling or even a Friday night swingers club! For you, I'll buy the whole food chain," he jokes running the tip of his finger down my nose. "Get in that shower before I change my mind about going to Seattle at all."

  I slide reluctantly out of bed and head to the bathroom, Chayton following close behind. I brush my teeth quickly while Chayton sets the temperature on the shower and I join him under the huge showerhead.

  "Can I ask you a favour in return?" he asks as he starts messaging shampoo into my scalp.

  "Depends...what is it? Drugs, gambling or Friday night swingers clubs?"

  "I want to choose a dress for you to wear tonight."

  "I only have two, it won't be a hard choice," I frown.

  "I don't mean from your closet. I want to buy you a dress. But I want to choose it." His fingers still in my hair and I turn to face him.

  "Why?” I ask, warning myself to stay calm.

  "If I take you to buy a dress, you will first look for the cheapest three dresses on the rack, then you'll pick the one that will allow you to be invisible. Tell me I'm wrong."

  I stare at him for a moment.

  "Okay, Mr. Donavan. You have me sussed. But tell me why there is anything wrong with that."

  His fingers start kneading my scalp again as he talks. "On the surface, nothing. But, can I just say that your attempts at invisibility, whilst obvious, do not work very well. Head back," he orders and starts to rinse the shampoo out. "You could wear a sack and look stunning."

  I flush at the unexpected compliment.

  "Just this once, I would like you on my arm and not the arm of some cactus in the corner of the room. I want you feel as special and as beautiful as you are and it would be amazing to know that I have helped you feel that good. Think about it?" He plants a kiss on my nose.

  I run through his reasons. Surely, I can do this. He is asking, not ordering.

  "Okay fine. But if I end up looking like a clown, I'll make you go in your green tights," I warn. And I am serious.

  "Thank you, for trusting me," he breathes and sweeps his arms around me, crushing me to his frame. I push the uneasy feelings into my giant suitcase of messy issues and wrap my arms around his hips, snuggling against his chest. I can do this one small thing right? Of course, I can! I find a nipple enticingly close to my nose. I wonder if his nipples are as sensitive as mine. I lick my lips. The temptation is just too much. Shifting my head the inch required, I draw the tiny bud into my mouth, nipping it softly with my teeth as my tongue flicks around it.

  "Fuck woman, have you no shame!" he growls in my hair.

  I blow a raspberry at him, grinning broadly and feel him twitch against my belly. He growls again and lifts me off the floor pushing me up against the wall. Like a greedy squid, I wrap myself around him, ankles hooking on his hips, hands behind his head.

  "Is this what you want?" he growls and thrust into me hard and deep. Deeper, than I imagined possible. His fingers are pressing painfully into the flesh of my buttocks and my tender breasts are flattened between us.

  "Ah!"

  His eyes pierce mine, burning me. "Well? Answer me," he growls again, withdrawing with agonising slowness.

  "Is this..." he slams into me. "What you want?"

  I whimper in frustration as he slowly pulls out again, then... "Yes! Oh fuck yes!” I hiss tugging at his hair, and flinging my head back as far at the cold tiles will allow, as he buries himself again with another punishing thrust.

  "Oh Angel, you only had to ask," he starts to move, fast and ferocious and too soon, we are both a soggy bundle on the shower floor.

  "I'm having s
econd thoughts about going to Seattle on the Rocket," I muse. The shower spray is pounding down on my back as I curl on his lap.

  "Oh? Why?"

  "Because I might just be saddle sore before we even get started."

  "Is that so?” He is amused – the bastard! "Well in that case we are definitely taking the Rocket." I feel a hand cup me intimately and gently. Just holding me. "That way, I can spend the whole two hours, thinking about you."

  "Okay," I struggle up, peeved. "Just so you know, Mr. Donavan, I expect you to think about me anyway. Always. So I don't see, how me being saddle sore, has any additional bearing on your thoughts."

  "I always think of you, Acacia. You beguile me. Every waking moment - and most of my sleeping ones too - are filled with thoughts of you," he says looking serious. "But this time I'll be thinking of you, thinking of me, while your ass reminds you why it hurts."

  "Oh!” Okay, how did I not see that one coming? Whew, it has gotten warm in here!

  "Seriously, Acacia, are you okay? I didn't really hurt you did I?" His face creases with concern.

  "No more than I wanted you to," I smile and lean forward to kiss his frown away. "Stand up so I can wash you.” I order softly.

  ~.~

  "Acacia, if you don't pipe down, I'm going to have Morgan forcibly remove you."

  "But the dress is too much!” I wail at the $980.00 dress tag. Not one of the dresses he has pulled from the rail is less than $700.00. The prices are obscene! One even went as high as $1600.00! "It's a scrap of fabric that will be out of fashion in less than four months!"

  "Morgan!"

  I stare at him wide eyed. "You wouldn't!" I spy Morgan striding purposefully toward us, looking very body-guardish, in a severe black suit and black tie.

  "Yes Sir."

  "Oh for heaven's sake Morgan, stop being so formal!” I huff. Sheesh, ever since we met up with him at Chayton's Bellevue home he has been overbearing.

  "At least we agree on one thing," Chayton mutters sourly under his breath. "Morgan, please take Ms. Ward back to the car and wait for me."

  "Yes Sir," Morgan replies with the slightest hint of humour in his eyes.

  To my dismay, he adjusts his body between Chayton and myself and gestures toward the exit with one hand.