The Redeemer

by J. D. Chase

  ‘Dean? Loud and leery?’ she gasped.

  ‘Uh-huh. I think the bouncers had had enough of him and it was about to escalate fast. I did what I could but there were six of them and they’re big boys. Really big boys. I can take care of myself but Dean could barely stand up so I knew I had no chance if we took them on. They’d have laid into him, especially since he’d thought it was a good idea to take the piss out of their appearance and cast aspersions about their ability to satisfy a woman. He was a dead man walking . . . well, staggering. Then she stepped in. I tell you something, Miss Hamilton, she’s got some clout. One word from her and they took notice. A bollocking from her and they backed off. She’s as feisty as fu─ I mean, she takes no prisoners. And she seems utterly fearless.’

  ‘Maybe she works here or is connected with the owners in some way. So why did you call me?’

  ‘He got talking to her just after I called you.’

  ‘I see. But I don’t understand why you called me. What can I do? Surely, if this woman has influence here, she can sort it out.’

  Jones cast his eyes down to the floor for a few seconds and then looked back at her as if he was unsure of what he should say. Eventually, he said, ‘I’ll paraphrase stuff that Dean told me. Most of it was drunken ramblings and I didn’t take any notice of him when I found him on Monday night. But tonight . . . well, he said that you and he had . . . well, that you’d slept together and that things hadn’t gone well.’

  Suddenly, memories flashed through Isla’s mind.

  So it definitely wasn’t a bad dream. Oh God. I need a drink.

  She kept her face impassive, despite the thoughts that were raging through her head because the overriding thought was not to confirm or deny anything.

  ‘I don’t know what he’s told you but you weren’t the first to . . . er . . . give him the impression that he . . . er . . . couldn’t satisfy you.’

  The last three words came out in such a rush that Isla realised just how embarrassed Jones was. She had to suppress a smile. This tough guy, a former Marine, was mortified that he was having to recount Dean’s drunken ramblings to her.

  ‘Go on,’ she urged, her face a mask of indifference.

  Jones looked as though she’d just asked him to strip naked and strut down the catwalk at London Fashion Week in sub-zero temperatures.

  He looked down and said, ‘He couldn’t make you come and you told him he was useless.’

  Did I? I know my vague memories of it were nothing to write home about . . . I was frustrated that I couldn’t get what I wanted, what I needed, but I thought it was Xander tormenting me, being deliberately gentle so as to make me beg for what I needed. I don’t recall saying that he was useless. I don’t recall knowing it was Dean in my bed. Fucking wine! Fucking stupid fucking wine. I’m never touching the fucking stuff ever again. It’s fucking lethal.

  Isla suddenly felt like the biggest bitch to have ever walked the earth. She clearly remembered feeling frustration and making certain demands but to no avail but she couldn’t remember exactly what she’d said.

  But what good is it calling me down here? Surely I’m the last person that Dean will want to see.

  But she knew that Jones felt he needed to do something. And she supposed since she’d caused this, or at least played a part in it, she should be the one to help sort it out.

  But how am I supposed to do that exactly? Maybe there’s something I could do to help that doesn’t mean I have to be here . . . after all, that might not be what Dean needs.

  Chicken!

  I’m not chicken. I just don’t want to rub salt into his wounds.

  Maybe I should tell him that he misheard, that I didn’t say that. What might I have said that sounded like useless?

  She was rudely torn away from her thoughts by Jones digging her in the ribs with his elbow.

  She glared at him. But he nodded his head sideways. She followed the direction of his head jerk and saw Dean and a woman having an animated discussion just inside the room. She couldn’t see them very clearly but she recognised Dean, because he was partly illuminated in the glow of a pink neon sign. Her hands felt a little clammy but that was nothing compared to how they felt when she realised that she’d been spotted. She saw Dean point in her direction before he conversed again with the woman.

  Then, as they began to walk across the room, her heart felt as though it were making a bid for freedom by banging against her ribs. She wondered how the hell she was going to pluck up the courage to talk to Dean if that woman was with him. As she watched them cross the room, the mass of people seemed to part in deference to them, allowing them to pass through unimpeded. She and Jones hadn’t caused that reaction; they’d had to push their way through. She had the feeling that this woman was someone of importance. Someone not to be messed with.

  As they passed a spotlighted stage, Isla got her first good look at the so-called sex therapist. Her eyes widened. The woman was beautiful. No, more than that, she was stunning. And her body . . . the way she moved . . . the confidence and grace, despite her killer, six-inch heeled, leather thigh-length boots. Isla found her eyes travelling up her body from the tip of her stilettos to the top of her head and back down again.

  The sight made her blink and swallow, no it wasn’t just the sight . . . it was her body’s reaction to it. She’d never felt attracted to a woman before but there was no doubt about it, her nipples were pulling tight, hardening like two diamonds. And her pussy was awakening as surely as if Xander was here. There was something about the sex therapist . . . she oozed sex appeal, she oozed sex, full stop. She was tall with long, straight black hair that flowed out behind her and she strode purposefully forwards. Isla guessed that she was about the same size as her but she wore a corset that gave her a waist that was tiny in comparison to the full breasts that were barely contained above it. Isla couldn’t tell what she was wearing above the expanse of flesh that was her thighs. She peered closer to determine whether she was wearing a very short skirt, knickers or nothing at all below the low hem of the corset that covered her stomach. But, as she was moving confidently through the shadowy room, it was impossible to tell.

  Xander’s words about curves with confidence sprang to mind – there was no doubt about it, this woman personified that statement and she had to admit, the effect was traffic-stoppingly stunning. Isla couldn’t tear her eyes away from her. And, without looking, she knew that she wouldn’t be the only one. She’d bet that almost everyone in the room had their eyes fixed on her.

  She was making her way towards Isla and Jones, a determined expression on her face. As soon as Isla realised that, her stomach began to churn but still she couldn’t look away, and no matter how much her brain told her to get out of there, her feet were incapable of moving. When they arrived, Isla managed to force her eyes to where she knew Dean was standing. He was looking resolutely at the floor. She looked back at the woman and noticed that a triangular scrap of leather was covering her most intimate parts. Isla didn’t know whether she was relieved or disappointed.

  ‘So this is her,’ the woman said bluntly as she looked Isla up and down, as bold as brass, making Isla want to shrink back or, preferably, disappear through the floor.

  Dean nodded but he didn’t look up.

  Oh fuck. She’s going to bollock me. I just know she is.

  I’ve never felt so disconcerted by a woman in my life. Very few men have achieved it. I can’t remember the last man to have made me feel like this . . . before Xander. That’s it . . . she’s like a female Xander. Inappropriate, self-assured and arrogant. No wonder I have a lady boner. I wonder what it would be like to . . . No! Don’t even think about it. And don’t let her walk all over you now. Stand up to her. Tell her your side of things.

  She tried to smile disarmingly at the bolshie beauty but her facial muscles wouldn’t obey and she ended up with her mouth in some sort of paralysed grimace. ‘I’m Isla Hamilton, if that’s what you mean. And who, may I ask, are you?’

&n
bsp; ‘So you’re the one who told him that he was useless, that he couldn’t satisfy a woman.’

  It was a statement, not a question and the raven-haired challenger wore the same impassive expression that Xander often used. Isla found it impossible to know whether she was criticising her or just ascertaining facts.

  ‘Not that I can recall, no. But then, I don’t recall most of that night. I was very drunk. If I said anything to upset Dean then I apologise unreservedly. It was certainly not intentional.’ Isla returned her gaze unflinchingly, despite the cartwheels that her stomach was performing.

  The other woman narrowed her eyes making Isla feel very small. She braced herself for the vitriol that she knew would be coming her way from the sex therapist. She could see how damaging it could be to say such things to a man after sex. She’d never do that when she was sober. Just the thought of it made her cringe.

  ‘What are you apologising for? It’s the best thing you could do for him. If he’s shit in the sack, he needs to know or else he’ll keep being a shit shag. And who wants that?’

  Isla stood there, mouth wide open.

  Did she just say . . .? Oh my God. This woman’s unreal. Poor Dean. He must be mortified. As if what I said wasn’t bad enough.

  ‘But now he knows it, he’s going to change all that. In my hands, he’s going to become the best fuck in London. Or one of them at least. He’s going to know what women want and how to give it to them whilst making sure that he gets exactly what he needs. No more awkwardness around women. In fact, he’ll be melting their knickers with just one glance. He’s a good-looking guy with the sweetest personality – he should have no problem getting laid. But he doesn’t just want to get laid and who does, if they’re honest? Anyone can get laid. It takes talent to fuck, at least to my exacting standards of satisfaction.

  ‘When I’m finished with him, he’ll be a legendary fucker, waking up women’s inner whores and leaving them begging for more. Nobody knows what women want and how to give it to them like I do. And nobody can satisfy a man like I can. And, believe me, nobody knows how to fuck like I do. And I don’t just mean the physical act of cock meets cunt, thrust for all you’re worth and then bingo, you come! Fucking isn’t just physical. You could have a body to die for and a fitness level of a stallion but still be a crap lay.’

  She paused for just a heartbeat before continuing in a deeper, even more seductive tone. It was like liquid gold that poured off her tongue and wound its way around the ankles of her captivated audience, rooting them to the spot before slowly moving up their legs, seeking what was between them.

  ‘Good fucking is an art, it’s as mental as it is physical. I can seduce a man, or woman, in seconds if I desire them. Fucking makes you feel good; great fucking makes you feel incredible. And intense, orgasm-inducing fucking with me . . .? I don’t think you can begin to imagine the pleasure I could inflict on your poor, delicate body. I’d make you come so hard you’d feel like you were having an out of body experience because your brain just couldn’t cope with the intense sensations that accompany a truly mind-blowing orgasm. Can you imagine what that feels like to come so hard that it feels like you might not be able to survive it? And all from my pretty, little mouth. My wicked, little tongue on your sensitive skin. You want that right now, don’t you?’ She flicked out her tongue to moisten her bottom lip making Isla’s pupils dilate completely as her arousal refused to be denied.

  Oh yes please.

  Isla nodded and then tried to swallow but her mouth was dry – unlike certain parts of her anatomy. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Jones nodding too. The sound of the woman laughing jolted her from her trance-like state. She and Jones glanced at each other, both with a ‘What the fuck?’ expression on their faces. Then she flicked her eyes to Dean who was staring dreamily at his newfound heroine.

  How the hell did she do that? Who the fuck is this woman?

  The woman laughed again. It was a deep, throaty laugh and Isla realised it was because this confident seducer knew exactly what she’d done to both of them and how confused and embarrassed they were now feeling. Isla scowled, feeling indignant that this woman was getting off on playing games with them. She really didn’t like the feeling that she was being toyed with, even if it was merely to illustrate a point.

  With a twinkle in her eye, the other woman rearranged her features into a serious expression. In a low voice she continued, ‘I can see, smell and feel your arousal but sadly – for you – I can’t taste it. I only see clients by appointment and I don’t fuck all of them. Some I don’t even touch at all.’

  ‘But some you do?’ Dean blurted. His desperation was clearly conveyed by the tone and urgency of his plea.

  She turned to him and placed her index finger under his chin, drawing his face in closer to hers. ‘Yes, handsome. Some I do,’ she whispered, and he lit up as though he’d just won the lottery. She dropped her finger and turned away from him, leaving him looking as though someone had snatched the winning ticket from him.

  Isla watched the exchange with interest.

  This woman is something else. When she speaks to you, it’s as though nobody else exists. As though she’s only speaking to you. And she doesn’t just speak . . . it’s like her voice travels inside you and controls your thoughts and actions. And when she looks at you, it’s like Xander with his aura of power and self-assurance . . . you’re bathed in something indescribable. And I’ll bet she’s just as addictive.

  And . . . oh my God, she’s looking at me now. She knows I’m studying her. Why does it feel like she knows exactly what I’m thinking?

  Cheeks glowing, Isla attempted to return the other woman’s gaze with as much confidence as it was given. It was an effort but she managed it right up until the woman leaned in closer and whispered, ‘So I’m the first woman you’ve wanted to fuck? And now you’re feeling confused. Don’t be. I walk, talk, eat, sleep and breathe sex . . . oh and fuck, yeah I fuck sex too.’ She grinned and Isla was floored by the similarity to Xander’s cocky smirk. ‘Your body knows what I could do to it and it wants to experience it. That’s all. It doesn’t mean you’re a raving lesbian or even bi-sexual . . . although frankly, you should never knock anything until you’ve tried it at least three times. And if you’ve never had a feminine tongue lapping at your pussy while your lips are wrapped around a pulsing cock, well my dear, you haven’t lived.’

  As soon as she finished speaking, she gave a subtle nod of her head and, when Isla’s eyes followed it she saw that both Dean and Jones were standing with their eyes and mouths wide open. She had to stifle a giggle when she saw the ex-Marine shake his head as if coming out of a trance once again and then turn away to adjust the contents of his underpants. But the woman didn’t take her eyes off Isla and, when their gazes locked again, she left her in no doubt that she knew what else had been going through Isla’s mind.

  I wanted to feel her tongue on me as I sucked Xander off . . . fuck, just the thought of it makes me horny.

  The woman smiled, her gaze seeming to intensify.

  Fuck! She’s doing it again. Oh Christ, now my pussy’s clenching. And . . . Oh. My. Fucking. God. Xander’s got my knickers in his pocket . . . I’m naked under my skirt!

  Her pussy clenched again – more insistently this time, making her press her thighs together. Images of the mysterious woman flicking her tongue against her clit as Xander thrust into her mouth flooded her mind again. There was no denying that she wanted that. And badly. Her cheeks flushed when she saw the woman’s eyes move down to her breasts where they lingered until her nipples tightened before they trailed a lazy path downwards. Isla knew the woman was teasing her – if not testing her. She also knew that the woman was only too aware of the effect she was having. That lingering look made her feel naked, just as Xander’s did.

  The abrupt, shrill ringing of her mobile made her start. It gave Isla a welcome excuse to turn away from the intense stranger. She muttered an apology before she stepped aside, noting that both
men had been watching the silent exchange intently.

  She glanced at her phone. It was Xander.

  Crap. I told him I wouldn’t be long. Man, he’s going to be pissed.

  She accepted the call and had barely got the phone to her ear when she heard his booming voice demand to know where the hell she was.

  ‘I’m on my way back now. I’ll be home very soon and I’ll explain then. I’ve got to go. I’m driving. See you in a little while. Bye.’

  She ended the call before he could question her. She doubted that he’d believe her, not just because of the ‘I want to fuck you’ music that was reverberating around the club that he was bound to have heard, but because of the way she’d jabbered on nervously. She just hoped that nothing had happened at the hotel.

  Oh God, the inspector. Please tell me that she’s tucked up in her bed for the night. I need to get back.

  She turned back to the group. ‘I’ve got to get going. Dean, take a couple of weeks as holiday and then get yourself back to work. The hotel needs you. Miss . . .?’

  She waited for the other woman to fill her in with her name but all she got was a smile.

  ‘Well, it was nice meeting you.’

  ‘Nice?’ The woman teased. ‘I don’t do nice. Love me or loathe me but don’t like me. Words like nice make me shudder.’

  ‘It was a pleasure meeting you,’ Isla attempted again but the woman stepped right up to her and grasped a handful of hair at Isla’s nape before covering her mouth with her own.

  The kiss took her by surprise but before she could even register it, Isla found herself responding without a second thought and it immediately became demanding and consuming. When the woman released her, Isla felt both violated and exhilarated. Her heart pounded and her pussy pulsed but again, the woman just smiled knowingly at her confusion.

  ‘I was just making sure you knew what it felt like to experience real pleasure. I can tell that you do and I must admit, part of me wishes that I was the one who was going to be pleasuring you tonight. There are some pleasures that only a woman can elicit from another woman’s body. Should you decide to explore the full scope of that pleasure, you know where to find me.’