‘I like this,’ she said, tugging a little hank of it between her finger and thumb. ‘Makes you look like less of a thug.’
‘I thought you liked my thuggish behaviour,’ he purred, sliding his hand between her legs again, gripping her. She didn’t melt into a pool of lust this time, even though it felt so good. She just stared back at him, her head up, her eyes narrowed and defiant.
‘When it suits me.’ She rode his hand, taking what she wanted, and then, when she could tell he thought he’d got her again, she grabbed at his black shirt and ripped it open by main force, sending buttons flying everywhere.
‘Jesus, Sandy, are you going to rip all my clothes off me?’ But he was laughing, just as she was. And a breath later, he was ripping at the thing himself, wrenching at the cuffs to free himself.
While it still hung half on him, half off, she ran her hands over his warm skin, feeling the pop of fine perspiration rise on the smooth areas and the ones ridged by scarring and pain. She saw nothing ugly about the marks, just a pagan beauty, as harsh and uncompromising as he was. Leaning down, she kissed the ones she could reach, licking and nibbling too.
Then she unzipped him and drew out his big hot cock. Sinking to her knees, jeans still bunched around her hips, she mouthed him for a little while, laughing around his flesh as she wrung groans from him with her enthusiasm if not her polished artistry.
‘Jesus, Sandy,’ he complained again, his voice more broken than ever by his gasps, ‘do you want me to come in your mouth? Because you’re heading that way.’ She plunged her tongue at a tender spot beneath his glans and he yelped, his hips working of their own accord. ‘I don’t really mind,’ he panted, ‘but I’d rather like to get in you if I could.’
‘Fair enough,’ she said in a muffled voice, her mouth still enclosing him. They both laughed like maniacs as she let him slip out.
Reaching down, he grabbed her under her arms and hauled her to her feet. Then he backed her up, kicked the door to the kitchen closed and then pressed her against it. Sandy realised there were no locks, and the combined weight of their bodies was a form of security. Not that thoughts of being discovered had even come within a mile of her mind while he’d been touching her and caressing her, and she’d been on her knees, giving him head.
Against the door, he kissed her hard, fondling her breasts through her camisole, and flicking at her nipples. Roused all over again, Sandy squirmed against him, pushing with her hips, while he pushed back against her, the heat of his exposed cock searing her. With their mouths still fused and their tongues still duelling, he helped her out of her jacket and peeled her cardigan off her. He flung it behind him, over his shoulder, then he went for her jeans, grabbing them and tugging them down her legs. Sandy kicked away her shoes, helping him to strip the jeans right off her, and her panties too. She was vaguely aware that she still had on her cute and rather silly white ankle socks trimmed with pictures of Winnie the Pooh and Tigger.
She didn’t think Jay had noticed them, but when he whispered, ‘Love the socks,’ in her ear, she blushed even more than when he’d been masturbating her.
Naked from the waist down, she reached up, ripping at his shirt again, and though Jay gave her a fierce look, he allowed her to drag it off him. It was a cool day, barely spring yet, and there was no heating in the shell of the building, but somehow it didn’t seem to matter. The heat that flared between them fired their blood.
‘That’s it, no more shilly-shallying around,’ Jay gasped as she stroked his back and his ribcage, and kissed the scars on his shoulders and his neck. ‘I’ve got to fuck you now whether you like it or not!’
Oh, I’ll like it! I’ll like it!
She didn’t speak though, because she couldn’t. As a precursor to his cock, he slid two hard curved fingers straight into her sex, and then went deep because she was dripping wet. For a few moments he caressed the tender spot on the front wall of her vagina until she mewled and wailed and shimmied around. But when he made her come again, sharp and hard, and she bit his neck in the process, he dragged out the digits with a low grunt of pain.
‘You little she-devil,’ he gasped, ‘I’ll get you for that.’ And as her sex steamed and throbbed, waiting for him, he fished a condom out of his pocket. After shoving his jeans and shorts down his thighs, he ripped the contraceptive from its wrapper and rolled it on. No more niceties. No more foreplay. No more going around the houses. Grabbing her hip with one hand, and his cock with the other, he positioned himself, hefted his hips and shoved in hard.
‘Oh God,’ gasped Sandy as he thrust in, home and deep. Then she wrapped her arms around his shoulders again and clung on, while he lifted and moved her with his hand under her buttocks and her back banging against the door.
‘Touch yourself!’ he ordered, his voice harsh and rasping.
‘I’ll fall.’
‘No you won’t. I’ve got you. I’ll always have you. I’ll never let you fall.’
Grabbing on with one arm and hand, her nails digging into the mass of muscle at the juncture of his shoulder and neck, she reached down blindly between the heat of their two perspiring bodies and searched clumsily for her clit, hampered by the wild rocking motion of the fuck.
When she found it, she moaned. Silvery sensations bloomed there, she was so on fire, so deeply stirred on every level by Jay and his body and his presence. Her legs locked around him and she arched, pushing her pelvis against his, almost crushing her hand where she was touching herself. The manual stimulation was barely necessary, she was so close, so hot, so totally besotted body and soul with him, but the fact that he wanted to be sure that she came was the thing that tipped her over.
She howled, her body clenching around him, her heels beating against his bare buttocks. Her nails dug harder into his musculature, creating new scars, no doubt, to add to his old ones. But he didn’t seem to care, he just fucked harder, lifting her higher, making her soar.
‘Princess! Princess!’ he snarled, his mouth at her neck, the pressed into her hair, which was loose and flying around them. Like a jackhammer, his hips pounded, driving him deep, deeper, deepest, until he shouted a profanity and gripped her buttocks with all the force she was gripping him.
Deep inside her, Sandy felt the repeated pulse of his ejaculation, his semen filling the condom, and in a tiny mad part of her mind she wished he wasn’t wearing one.
Then that thought was gone, along with most of her consciousness, as she came again.
Afterwards they slumped in an exhausted heap against the door, bare-arsed on the dusty concrete surface of the floor. The cold surface of the floor.
But despite their makeshift surroundings, Sandy had never felt more comfortable, more safe and secure, in her entire life. Being next to Jay felt right, like being home somehow, regardless of whatever complications there were between them in the past, the present or the future. Whatever confronted them, she knew in her bones that they could work it out.
‘So, this place,’ said Jay suddenly, and in an almost laughably conversational tone, considering his jeans were still at half-mast and his sticky sated cock was lying bare and heavy against his thigh, ‘do you think that the “soul” or whatever it is of the Little Teapot could reside here?’ He touched his lips to her neck. ‘Do the facilities meet with your approval?’
Sandy giggled when she saw him nod towards his crotch.
‘Yep, the facilities are first class.’ She trailed the back of her hand across the head of his penis, and enjoyed the way he bared his teeth and his head went back, his neck arched. ‘But what about this negotiable lease? Will I be able to afford it?’
Jay’s grey eyes glittered and he glanced down at her crotch in return.
‘Oh, I’ve no doubt about that,’ he said, fishing around for their abandoned clothing and draping several items over her, haphazardly, to keep her warm.
As an independent woman and someone who’d always paid her way, Sandy supposed she should contest the fact that he was obviously as good as
giving her a valuable piece of property. It was ridiculous really, but she felt too mellow and too sensualised to worry about anything at the moment, least of all that.
But when she looked into Jay’s eyes, she could see he was thinking about it.
‘I love you, Sandy,’ he said, his voice simple and soft, almost mellifluous for him. ‘I want you to have this as a belated Christmas gift from me.’ He made an elegant expansive gesture, taking in the room, its facilities. ‘No strings. It’d just make me happy to see you here, and see your business thrive and make other people happy too. And I want to be here to see it every single day.’
His grey eyes were intent, luminous. She knew what he was saying.
It’d make me happy as well, she thought. Every single day. With her heart feeling shaky and strange and thudding fit to burst at the thought of ‘every day’, it was as if the weight of complications just seemed to slide away from them, like mist that dissipated as it went, leaving the future clear. Their future.
And I love you too.
‘But you gave me Christmas gifts, Jay. Lovely ones,’ she said, sliding her legs beneath her, and coming up on her knees, sending her makeshift covers, the clothing, slithering away, just like the complications. She thought of the cardigan, the exquisite embroidered throw, perfume, chocolates he’d sent … all wonderful and treasured, but nothing compared to this gift, and the even greater one, the return of the beloved man himself. ‘And you wouldn’t let me send you anything.’
‘You didn’t need to, love,’ said Jay softly, the rough huskiness of his voice gentled to music by emotion. ‘You’re my gift, Sandy. Everything I could possibly want or need.’ He touched her face, the delicate caress of his scarred fingers infinitely tender. ‘You’re the woman of my dreams, literally. And you brought me back to life, as a man and a human being. Nothing material could ever match what you’ve given me.’
There was nothing more to say. Nothing needed saying. They understood each other perfectly.
‘Okay, I agree then. I accept … In principle.’ She grinned at him. ‘But only after a little more negotiation. A lot more negotiation. I think we should engage in some long, hard and very strenuous discussions on the matter.’
And then Prince Charming smiled too, his scarred face beautiful and laughing as she pushed him onto his back and climbed astride him. To negotiate …
Leaning down, the Princess found his lips and gave him his gift … her kiss of love.
Epilogue
He didn’t carry her out of the room this time, but as they slipped away from the party and outside through the patio doors, Jay shrugged off his jacket and slipped it around her shoulders, making her shudder deliciously, ah, the memories.
‘Thanks, lover … but what about you?’
‘I’m fine. Don’t worry about me,’ said Jay, not looking in the slightest bit chilly in his dark, elegant shirt even though it was only a fine cotton.
It wasn’t quite so cold on this December evening, the ‘anniversary’ – or near as damnit – of when they’d first made love. Global warming freakiness meant that it just didn’t feel as if Christmas was almost upon them again, but it was still chilly enough for Sandy to relish the residual heat from her lover’s coat; as well as the rush of his gorgeous cologne that made her head swim and her body quiver in yearning.
Dare they? Dare they do it again? The glint in Jay’s grey eyes seemed to suggest it, as did the curve of his lips, framed in the same elegant goatee he’d been sporting at last year’s Chamber of Commerce Christmas bash. He’d been clean-shaven through most of their first year together, but just for a giggle, Sandy had teased him into growing his beard again and, never one to resist a dare, Jay had complied. He didn’t really need to hide his scars as much nowadays – they’d faded considerably, and she thought they were beautiful anyway – but she did love the piratical look the sexy goatee gave him. All the more pronounced now he wore his hair longer too. Thick waves swept back from his brow; not quite the wild, long straggle of their first brief meeting, but lush enough to run her fingers through when they were making love …
A lot had happened in the last twelve months. She lived with Prince Charming now, in a luxury flat on the outskirts of the city. Just temporarily though, until the new house he was having built on the Otterly side of Kissley was finished.
The New Teapot was thriving, mainly because the Galleria development had revitalised the centre of Kissley and made it prosper at a time when many small towns were still struggling. The whole borough was throwing off the persistent recession, with the help of business regeneration. Forbes Enterprises wasn’t the only concern active in the area; it seemed to be a magnet for men of wealth and drive, like Jay.
Strolling along, Sandy slid her hand beneath his arm, loving the strength of muscle she felt beneath her fingers. Jay worked out like a demon, and was in superb shape. He still experienced some twinges of pain from his injuries, but they, like his scars, were fading.
‘Oh shit,’ he said softly, gripping her hand, urging her to stop, ‘It looks like somebody else is making out on our bench.’
Indeed, that did seem to be the case. On ‘their’ bench, in the hedged alcove, a couple were embracing enthusiastically there in the darkness: she wearing her man’s jacket, just as Sandy was; he enduring the winter night in his shirt sleeves, just like Jay.
‘Oh fuck. It’s the King and Queen of the Universe,’ she whispered, ‘I thought they’d be too busy accepting the schmooze and homage of all the local worthies to sneak out for a bit of nookie in the garden … even if it is the notorious Waverley.’
Jay’s eyes twinkled like metal in the darkness. This was a shared joke between them, their secret name for the borough’s other very prominent local businessman and investor, along with his beautiful fiancée.
‘I thought you liked them,’ Jay said, teasingly. ‘You said that they make a perfect couple, and that he was very fit for his age.’
Sandy squeezed his arm. ‘He is … but you know me. I’m into princes, not kings … and one particular Prince Charming, to be specific.’ She stood on tiptoes – no silly borrowed high heels this year – and kissed the line of her own prince’s goatee. ‘Come on, there are plenty of other secret hideaways in and around this den of iniquity. I think this garden is specifically designed for people to sneak out for a bit of bad behaviour during boring civic functions.’
As they headed towards a different part of the Waverley’s formal gardens, away from the passionate couple – he so blond, she so dark-haired – thoughts that had been swirling in her mind for some weeks now resurfaced, prompted in part by seeing those two people kissing.
‘She’s lovely, actually. She was really sweet and helpful when I went with Kat to look at wedding stuff, at New Again Bride.’
It was still hard to believe that Kat and Greg were getting married. Sandy had always pinned her friend as a wild spirit who’d never settle down, but it seemed that Kat and her over-sexed boyfriend, now fiancé, would be happily tying the knot pretty soon. Sandy had a sneaking suspicion that Kat might be pregnant, but the love between the couple was so rock solid that it wouldn’t matter if she were or she weren’t.
‘She seems very nice,’ said Jay, his voice almost abstracted, as if he’d picked up on Sandy’s own unsettled thoughts. ‘And he’s sound too. A man after my own heart in a lot of ways … I’m looking forward to working with him on the airport project and the new business park.’
You’re not really thinking about joint business ventures and stuff, are you?
There was a faraway look in Jay’s eyes. One she’d seen before when he was mulling over something knotty. What was he worried about? He almost seemed nervous.
Was it the same thing that had been bothering her, lately? Triggered by Kat’s impending marriage, trips to bridal shops … and the stonking great diamond and ruby engagement ring she’d admired on Lizzie Aitchison’s finger.
Marriage.
Coming together so suddenly and so pa
ssionately after their freak meeting fifteen years ago, both she and Jay had decided it was better not to rush things. It had seemed such a sensible and grown-up idea at the time, but now she knew she wanted more. He was her magical prince, he was her dream … and she wanted to be with him forever, in the traditional fairytale, wedded bliss. He felt the same, she was convinced of it, but putting pressure on him just wasn’t her way.
She shivered. Was the night suddenly colder? Jay’s eyes seemed to glitter in the shadows, as they reached an even more secluded bench, and by silent mutual agreement, sat down together. Dumping her evening bag on the bench, Sandy hugged his jacket tighter around herself, and as she did so, something hard in the pocket poked her in the midriff.
She patted it. It was small and square. A box.
An image sprung into her mind. A picture of the fabulous antique ring sported by Lizzie Aitchison.
Could it be? That great rock wasn’t Sandy’s style, but the sentiment and institution it represented was. Now.
‘What’s this?’ She spread her fingers over the hidden box.
A little smile played around Jay’s beautiful mouth. ‘It’s a gift.’ He stroked his beard. Yes, a sure sign of nerves. ‘For you.’
‘Can I get it out?’ Her heart was thudding, and despite the December temperatures, she flushed with heat.
‘Of course,’ said Jay. There was a quality of anxiousness about him, of hurry, hurry. He was as keyed up as she was, bless him.
Reaching in, Sandy pulled out a black leather ring box, bound with an exquisitely narrow red ribbon tied with a bow. The colours made her smile, recalling other gifts, similarly wrapped but far from similar in content. Unfurling the ribbon, and slipping it into the pocket of Jay’s coat, she flipped open the lid of the box.
The Gift Page 25