TouchStone for ever (The Story of Us Trilogy)

by Sydney Jamesson

  I give him an indignant stare, “Well, I wasn’t aware of that.”

  He leans across to stroke my hair like a wayward child in need of reassurance. “No you weren’t, darling. But I wouldn’t be so eager to lend Jake your support just yet.”

  “Maybe you’re right. How will you sort it out?” I ask, not doubting for a moment he will.

  “I plan on calling a meeting tomorrow to ascertain who is responsible. “

  “And do you think they’ll just come out and spill the beans.”

  He shakes his head disconsolately. “No, I will have to listen to their thoughts. Unwittingly, they will tell me what I need to know.”

  I stand and straighten out my skirt. “And what about Jake?”

  “He will too,” he states calmly. “All this will be sorted out before we leave for Australia in two days time.” His eyes follow me around the room. “Where are you going?”

  “To change for dinner. If this room and the view is anything to go by, the food must be spectacularly good.”

  He concurs. “It is.”

  I leave the room with Ayden’s words ringing in my ears and the possibility of Jake’s betrayal still invading my thoughts. This is not the way I saw my honeymoon playing out.

  Like a moving shadow Ayden appears at the bedroom door, holding a hotel brochure.

  “There’s a fashionable bar upstairs,” he remarks reading from the text. “It called Ozone Bar of all things. Would you like to pay it a visit?”

  I’m taken by surprise that he would even make the suggestion. “Sure. I can’t believe there’s an upstairs.”

  He smiles broadly. “Apparently, there is.”

  “Give me a couple of minutes to change and I’ll be right out.” I’m grinning. “Aren’t you going to change?”

  “Into what?”

  “A shirt and some dress pants,” I suggest, busying myself with my case.

  He shrugs his shoulder. “Is that necessary?”

  For some reason my hand finds its way to my hip. “It’s not necessary. I just thought you might like to … dress up.”

  “Ah.” Is all he says.

  “But you don’t have to. It’s up to you … but I am.”

  He moves over to me, pulls me close and places a soft kiss on my head. “Then so shall I, darling. I will follow your lead.” He leaves the room. “But first I’ll ring ahead and organise a table.”

  “Good idea.” With him out of the way, I select a smart dress by Jasper Conran; it has a black grid print and the tailored fit adds just the right amount of sophistication for this kind of outing. While he dresses, I slot my iPod into the dock and select Skyscraper by Demi Lovato. The song might well have been written for me.

  In the throes of an animated striptease, he returns, flinging his sweater down onto the bed on his way to the bathroom. To save time I select one of his made-to-measure shirts in white, a tie to complement my dress and lay it out on the bed. I pick up his sweater and begin pulling out the sleeves, only to be captured unawares by the scent of his cologne. Obsession rouses my senses. Instinctively I bundle up the collar between my hands and hold it to my nose. With my eyes closed I picture him by my side, above me, all around me. My reaction is so profound I have to turn my head away to seek out less evocative air. I fold it up neatly and place it in one of the drawers nearest the bed. The sound of approaching footsteps breaks the spell.

  Still reeling from the potency of his scent, I gather my bag and lip-gloss. When I raise my head, he’s unbuttoning his casual black shirt, exposing a little more chest hair and muscle with each button he releases.

  Don’t look …

  I offer a brief smile and scoot past him, redirecting my eyes and my thoughts to less suggestive images as I pass. I’m in the bathroom, standing with both hands gripping either side of the sink, trying to compose myself. All this talk of Titanic moments, tantalising smells and treachery has my nerves jangling to the beat of a racing heart. I clip up my hair and tidy my make-up, daub my lips with a lush pink layer of gloss and take a deep breath.

  When I return to the bedroom he’s dressed and ready. Before I can contain my first thought, I let it fly.

  My God you’re such a handsome man…

  He is about to say “Thank you …”

  I watch as his tongue slides out between his teeth and how he rethinks his response. Instead he licks his lips and winks. It’s more than I can stand. In a dithering mess I snap my clutch shut and head toward the door, hoping to steady my trembling hands en route. “Let’s go.”

  He knows.

  “Stop!”

  I flinch and my breath hitches. He takes my clutch from my hand and throws it onto the sofa. I hear it land with a thud.

  His breath caresses my neck. “You won’t be needing that.”

  I find my voice from somewhere. “It has my camera in it. I want to take some …”

  “ … No need. I will paint you a picture with words.”

  “But I …”

  ”Hush! Just do as you're told, Beth. Two hands on the door and less of the fucking back-chat," he says, lifting the hem of my dress until it settles around my hips, exposing my lingerie.

  Ayden …

  With my hair up he has free access to my neck and takes full advantage. The tension in my body is palpable; it’s a kind of quivering helplessness.

  He nuzzles beneath my ear and, not wanting to lift my palms from the door, I arch into him. He responds by lifting my dress higher and pulling me towards him, firmly, holding on to my hips. I feel a rigid mass of muscle against my lower back and throw back my head, visualising it unleashed and formidable against me, inside me. A muffled moan leaves my mouth.

  The lights dim to a twilight glow with a single click of his fingers. He prepares to speak. “Last night I lay awake listening to you breathe while I relived every fucking moment. In my conscious state I undressed you and possessed you. I pleasured myself while you slept.”

  No!

  His right hand skates across my buttocks and slides between my legs. His fingers arch and fold to assess the extent of my arousal.

  “I hunger for your touch, Beth. Like a starving man I have circled this earth in search of sustenance and I have found it with you. I must have you now, or I will surely die.”

  His words resonate; all I can hear is Ayden. He’s back from the dead.

  My recollections fade, and I’m back in the present with a jolt. His left hand snakes across my body, ascends and comes to rest on my right breast. With impatient fingers he eases back the fabric at my neckline and slips inside, stroking my collar bone and gently squeezing my right breast. Anchored, front and rear, I can’t move. All I can do is succumb to the sensation of being claimed.

  His nose tickles my neck and his tongue licks at my ear.

  “Where did you learn to do this?” I ask, feverish with need.

  “I learned from the best. All I had to do was look and listen.”

  “To memories?”

  “No, my darling. To you.”

  Me?

  The burning sensation I have come to crave is building. I’m tipping forward into his caress and rocking into his hand; sparks are flaring around my groin and I’m moaning into the space between my head and the door.

  “Close your eyes,” he instructs, his voice circling around us like a satellite. “Don’t be afraid.”

  I do as he asks. “I’m not.”

  “Good girl,” he reassures, the final vowel leaving his lips in a gust of hot air. “Open,” he says.

  I gasp. Now my hands are pressed against the glass window, the view obscured by the steam exhaled from my lungs.

  “Tell me what you see.”

  While I try to verbalise my thoughts he is lowering my panties with both hands, falling to his knees. I feel the lacy material against my ankles.

  “Lift.”

  I step out of them, right foot first, wobbling on my black Louboutins. How bizarre I must look outstretched against this enormous window like
a human kiss reaching for the moon. To steady myself I take hold of the window frame with my right hand and plant my heels down onto the wooden floor. I’m not going anywhere.

  I feel his breath on my neck a split second before he speaks. “Look closely. Can you see what I see?” he asks quietly. “The world is laid out at your feet. Every flickering light is an artificial star. This is the nearest you will ever get to my world. I brought you here to share it with you.”

  Superimposed on the magnificent vista we stand together, reflected in the glass like gods. I watch as he takes hold of my hands and separates them until we are united in a flying position.

  “Doesn’t this count as a Titanic moment?”

  I stare into the glass, wide-eyed, unable to answer. All I can do is contain my emotions and nod.

  “The first of so many for you and I.” He sniffs at my hair and pushes his nose into the sensitive spot beneath my ear. “Welcome to my world, Beth.”

  I close my eyes and lean backwards into his rock-solid body. I feel his mouth curving into a satisfied smile. He has me where he wants me; craving his touch like a drug. It’s getting so I want - no, I need - my daily fix of Ayden Stone.

  He lowers my arms and rotates me until we are face to face. His hands descend and he squeezes my buttocks as if kneading dough. He begins to swerve his hips like a dancer, creating pleats in my dress with his inflexible erection. This is a man on a mission to get me hot and wet and ready.

  Mission accomplished.

  His two-handed grip on me tightens and the friction against my groin is enough to start a fire. I bury my hands in his hair and claim his mouth, thrusting my tongue between his teeth and teasing him until our tongues are no more than a tangle of taste buds.

  In one frenzied movement he tears open my dress like tissue paper from a present and strips it from my shoulders. My bra is quick to follow. I stand before him naked, panting, aching. As I reach out to remove his tie, he takes a step back, then another until he is out of reach.

  “Let me look at you,” he says through fractured breaths. “You are beautiful.” Roughly he removes his tie and rips off his shirt. “Take my hand so that I may claim your body and your heart as mine.” He holds out his hand.

  Without a second thought I take hold of it and follow his lead into the bedroom. On entering I gasp. Once again he has astounded me with his magic. The room is wall-to-wall white with flowers and ruby red rose petals. The hypnotic blend of fragrances from roses, lilies and orchids has my head in a whirl.

  “It’s like the garden of Eden,” I mutter, not really expecting him to hear.

  “Then I will be your Adam and you can be my Eve,” he says, pleasantly surprised by my observation. “Lie down. I want to taste you.”

  Oh my God!

  Momentarily, he stills as if trying to get a hold onto a flickering memory. All it takes is a click of his fingers and there is music. The sultry tones of Lifehouse singing Everything only make me want him more. Having discovered the perfect background to our lovemaking, he pins me to the mattress with a smile so devilishly sexy it has me squirming; a lather of creamy wetness gathers between my legs. I raise my head off the sheets to watch him undress as I have done so many times before.

  My naked Adonis closes the distance between us, places his hands on my knees and parts them. “Tonight we will both give in to temptation,” he says, licking his lips. “And there is nothing more tempting than you, my darling.” With his hips he nudges my knees further apart and covers my body with his.

  My face fits into a single hand; his thumb grasps my chin while his left hand covers my breast, preparing a hardening nipple for his mouth. His descent is leisurely and agonising; I’m arching my back to hurry him along, but he will not be rushed.

  My patience is rewarded. He takes hold of my right hand and sucks on my fingers, pushing them in and out, simulating our sexual coupling. I begin to moan more out of need than desire. His free right hand circles my pubic bone, splaying out so his thumb can follow the natural curve of my body. His thumb rests on my clitoris and stimulates it with gentle brush strokes, flicking it just enough to have me opening my mouth to make rapturous sounds that no one but my husband should ever hear.

  “This is all I think about, Beth, being inside you like this.” He takes hold of my knees and bends my legs until my feet are resting on the bed. Instinctively I move my hands to cover myself, but pause at the sight of black curls tumbling and coming to rest between my legs. Holding me in place, he enters me with shallow thrusts and swirls that make my body convulse. With anticipation building I fist his hair, writhing to the rhythm of Al Green’s sweet rendition of Simply Beautiful.

  “You’re so wet,” he moans.

  Shifting position he raises me off the bed until I am forced to rest my thighs on his broad shoulders, held in place by his firm hands. He growls against my sex and the vibrations off his lips send an electric shock through my body. Using only the tip of his tongue he takes me to the point of no return and I lose myself in the ecstatic haze of an orgasm. It’s a toe-curling, sheet- ripping sensation that has me calling out like a woman possessed.

  “Ah, Ay-den!”

  Before I can catch my breath he is over me. “I can’t keep my hands off of you,” he says, taking hold of my wrists and positioning my hands either side of my head. “I want to bury myself inside you,” he growls.

  My pulse remains unnaturally fast, making me pant and shiver at the prospect of being held down and taken forcefully. My fantasy lover meets my post orgasmic gaze and I witness the depth of his desire. I see the grey vastness of the cosmos in his eyes and, for fear of falling into it, I close mine.

  “Don’t look away,” he commands.

  But I must. My body yearns for his touch but my rational mind still refuses to accept him as my beloved.

  “Tell me you don’t want me, Beth,” he implores. “Tell me …” In one languid movement he slides into me. “This is my home Beth; remember? You belong to me. Say it.” The rocking, in and out movement has me lifting off the bed; I’m trying to free my hands but I cannot. He’s gyrating his hips and leaning, fucking me with his cock and his tongue and it’s all I can do to stop my heart from exploding.

  He tightens his grip on my wrists and picks up the pace, groaning with each penetrating thrust. I watch his expression changing, becoming darker; a seductive smile is replaced by a hard unyielding stare. I screw my eyes shut and allow my body to ride the wave of passion dragging me down, deeper. That endless sea begins to swallow me up …

  “Beth … Beth ...”

  Hearing my name whispered so softly, I open my eyes. What I see causes my inside to clinch and tighten. Gone are the grey tints of the universe I have come to expect; instead I’m looking up and into a midnight sky sprinkled with flecks of starlight.

  “Ayden,” I whisper, letting go, not wanting to look away. “Stay with me.” I begin to grind my body against his until our movements are synchronised.

  Knowing I’m close he coaxes me with his words and a smile. “Come on Beth, let me hear you.”

  His wish is my command.

  With the promise of his return I come loudly, panting and screaming my way through an orgasm that brings me close to unconsciousness. My internal clenching grips him with the force of an unyielding fist and triggers his climax. He flattens his body against mine and grunts into my neck like an animal caught in a trap. Gradually, he settles.

  Once he releases my wrists I wrap my arms around him and calm him with soft words while salty tears sting my eyes. Breaking the bond, he raises himself and rolls to the side. His head rests on his right palm. I stare at the ceiling too afraid to face him for fear of coming face to face with this great pretender once again.

  “You were on fire, Beth,” he says, removing a few strands of hair from my cheek. “I’ve not experienced that level of intensity before.”

  I feel my heart sinking but turn to face him, remembering to scatter my thoughts into a thousand pieces. Only one r
emains …

  Ayden is alive.

  ***

  Troubled by vivid dreams Mack climbs out of his crumpled bed at 4 a.m. The previous day’s findings have added fuel to his already raging bonfire of determination. His lounge carpet has become an expanse of white. The four files he has collated are assembled like ice packs; as the bonfire burns, so they begin to melt and merge. They have yet to meld but Mack reassures himself that it’s only a matter of time until they do.

  Laced with whiskey, his thoughts wander. What he needs is a time machine to take him back twenty years or more; to that time when three young children meant everything to each other. He reaches for the faded photograph he removed from Elise’s apartment and takes a lingering look, wondering what brought them together. He returns it to her file and spots the SD card. Now seems as good a time as any to see what’s on it.

  He moves over to the dining table, boots up his laptop and waits, arms folded, pensive. His eyes widen and he gasps. It’s a video of a woman tied up, being whipped. It’s Elise. Feeling uneasy witnessing this sadomasochistic sex act, he’s actually nauseous. ‘To each his own,’ he thinks. ‘But what the hell …?’

  Reluctantly, he dispels the notion that this is Elise Richards being violently whipped and sexually exploited. First because he needs to view it objectively and second, she seems to be enjoying it. Undaunted, he looks for clues; the man with the whip is muscular, tall, dark haired. The voice is that of an Englishman; well spoken, firm, authoritative. One name comes to mind - Ayden Stone.

  He shuts down the laptop and returns the SD card to its plastic case. What an insignificant strongbox for such an important file; one that could make or break a reputation with a single glance.

  A decision is made and he christens it with a sanctifying mouthful or whiskey. He will spend the day in the office, finish typing up reports on a couple of cases he had resolved and then he’d devote himself to doing some old-fashioned digging; except most of it will be done via the internet and the phone. The first point of contact will be the adoption agency handling the Richards case, or rather that of a fourteen year old girl named Elise Kilbride.