Switching his hold on my left leg, he pushes up from behind the juncture of my knee to gain an impossibly deeper angle, slamming into me with relentless force. Amazing ….
“Valla!” he shouts out while fucking me harder.
He sounds almost tortured as he grunts in time with the swing of his hips. Suddenly the harmonious rhythm breaks and becomes choppy, frantic as he drives in and lowers his heavy frame, forcing me to accept his heat, his weight. Snarling against my neck, he releases. His orgasm is so searing and powerful that I can feel the hot flood deep within my core. Spasms shake his gleaming body as pleasure washes over his face. When it subsides, he nearly collapses onto me, heaving in exhaustion and sucking in giant gulps of air against the side of my neck.
Beautiful. He’s racked my body with sweet bliss. I can only lie here and breathe, feeling boneless, nearly destroyed from the inescapable ecstasy he gave me.
Judge plants his forearms close to my face as his hands stroke my sweaty forehead. His arousal is still seated deep within me, and I welcome the feeling of being together like this. We hold onto each other and remain silent, as our frantic breathing gradually slows and approaches normal.
“Valla.”
The formal use of my name said gently, respectfully, catches my attention. “Yes, Sir?”
He takes a deep breath. “I’m willing to give you a choice. It’s not right for me to hold you against your will. You can stay here as long as you like as my sweet submissive—which is what I strongly desire—or you can go back to Kaikoura. I could take you back tomorrow morning. I sincerely hope that is not your choice, but I will respect your wishes. You don’t have to rush your answer. Take your time.” His tone is serious, and I wonder how long he has been thinking about this.
I’m quiet and reflective for a long moment before I nuzzle into his chest, reveling in his strong heartbeat and musky male scent. In a way, I feel bound to him, both physically as well as mentally. Confusion rolls through me because I do want to stay with him, but our current situation makes this option nearly impossible. There are people looking for me. There is no way that my disappearance from the guided tour went unnoticed.
He continues to stroke my hair as we both stare at each other.
“Why don’t you take a nice shower and have a rest? I have some work to do on my laptop and then I’ll cook us a nice dinner. We can get to know each other better tonight over a fantastic Craggy Range Merlot that’s made not far from here. How does that sound, my petal?”
“I’d like that, Judge.”
A callused finger softly runs along the underside of my chin. Lifting my face, he presses his warm lips to mine. A soft murmur escapes, “So sweet.” I touch my mouth to his once more.
“Hold still for a second, baby, and let me remove the toy.” I lie still as he gently removes the plug and sets it aside. He pushes off the bed and says, “Let me know if you need anything, all right? You take your time. It’s been an action-packed day.”
Giving him a contented, lazy smile, I watch him make his way to the dresser, where he snags a pair of black Armani boxer briefs. He really is sculpted everywhere. How is that even possible? He turns and lands me with a playful wink before stepping out of the room, leaving the door ajar behind him.
My body is still in heaven from the astonishing sex. This man is so breathtaking that it’s difficult to wrap my head around what is happening between us. When he touches me I feel lightheaded, almost drunk.
Suddenly parched, I decide that I would really benefit from a glass of water. I hop down, pulling his cozy white shirt over my body. As I take the few steps to enter the kitchen, I see Judge at a small desk facing the window. His left side is in full view and in a flash I see him take the last of four keystrokes to unlock his sleek silver laptop.
I have it. My heart nearly leaps out of my chest. I had the three digits from the alarm this morning on lockdown in my mind. If the four numbers I just committed to memory complete the code, then I have the option to leave if I want. He offered me the choice, but how do I know he is sincere? I’ve seen his aggressive side. What if he changes his mind about releasing me? I want to trust him, I really do, but something in me hesitates.
Act calm ….
“Oh hey, I was just thirsty. Do you mind?” I ask, pointing to the sink.
He pushes his chair back and moves with ease to pour me a glass of ice water.
“Here you are.”
A pang of guilt hits. I feel deceitful for having spied on him. I try to push that thought aside. Self-preservation instincts are still in play because of the element of danger inherent in my unusual situation.
I turn and toss over my shoulder, “Thanks, I’ll see you in a bit.”
As I make my way into the cavernous bathroom, I wonder if I will still have the courage to run from him if the need and the right opportunity arises. I’m already becoming attached to him, and the fact that I feel guilty having secured a way for myself to get out of here is troubling. My emotions are becoming so twisted that I’ve almost convinced myself this could be real, natural even. This could be nothing more than a tryst or a game to him, or perhaps something even more sinister. For all I know he could have a wife and kids. Hell, maybe this place doesn’t even belong to him! I need to keep up my guard lest I wind up with a broken heart … or worse.
Chapter Nine
***
Suspended
After a refreshing nap, I lift my arm to glance at my watch. It’s eight p.m. and the snow has intensified. I watch it flutter down through the dark night as I quickly dress in my own clothes and wander out into the kitchen.
Judge is dressed as well, wearing dark blue denim jeans and a soft looking black sweater. A pair of dark brown suede and shearling slippers completes the outfit. He looks incredibly handsome in his carefree elegance.
In a pleasant voice he says, “Perfect timing. I was just beginning dinner. Are you hungry?”
“Yes, starving actually. Can I help?”
“Ahh, sweet of you, petal, but nah. You have a seat right there on the barstool and keep me company, eh? Would you like to try that local wine I mentioned?”
“I’d love to try a New Zealand wine. I’ve heard great things about your country’s reds. Will you drink it with me?”
“You know it.” He is grinning boyishly, all relaxed and happy. His tousled locks are slightly damp, just skimming the collar of his sweater. Circling around the bar, wine in hand, he stands beside my barstool. I cross my legs and watch as he opens the bottle with practiced ease and pours each of us a generous glass.
He raises his high in a toast. “To chance encounters, petal.”
I smile and hold my glass up to his. A little clink chimes between us. “Yes, to unbelievable chance encounters, Judge.”
The dark red wine slides across my tongue and I savor the smooth oakiness.
“Mmm. This is lovely.”
“Glad you like it, sugar. It’s a favorite of mine.”
Judge rounds the bar and opens the fridge, leaning in to gather several ingredients. Admiring the way his jeans stretch deliciously across his rock hard ass, I take another sip of the silky wine, thinking Mmm ... very dark and fuckably delicious indeed.
“Seems we both worked up an appetite this afternoon, eh, petal?” He places several items on the counter before turning to give me a knowing, amused look.
“You could say that, yes.” I smile back at him, appreciative of the fact that he is cooking a meal for us. This is a rare treat for me, since in the past I’ve usually been the one doing all the cooking.
I take another sip of the velvety, vanilla and raspberry-tinged local Merlot and decide to find out more about him. At this point I know little, only that he has a stunning home and a penchant for dominance. Maybe if I get to know him better, it will be easier to decide whether to stay or go. “So, you promised to tell me how you were injured.”
His back goes rigid before he turns to face me, an empty sauce pan in his hand. He sets it
down, picks up his glass of red, takes a deep drink, then rounds the high bar toward me. He hoists himself up into a tall stool and takes my hand in his.
Playing with my pink fingertips, he says, “Suppose it’s as right a time as any to tell you a bit more about my life, eh?”
I nod, remaining quiet, eager for him to continue.
“My da owned a mining company, where the work entails many risks. At times, fatal ones. Years back his men, mostly Maori miners, were deep in a shaft when a central beam became unstable, sending rock and rubble raining down on the ten man crew. They were trapped, with little air.
“We heard them calling out on the walkies, so my da went in with a small team of men and digging equipment to get them out before there was even more trouble. Halfway down the shaft the whole support system fully collapsed, causing that part of the mine to cave right in.”
I gasp, my hands flying to cover my mouth, at the horror of it all. I can’t even imagine ….
“They were instantly crushed to death. I had just entered the mine when the cave-in occurred, intent on helping out, even against my da’s wishes; he never wanted two of us in a mine at one time. He didn’t want to risk leaving my ma on her own. I was only about a hundred yards in when it happened. The scars are from iron and wood shrapnel from the ceiling beams that fell down and pinned me when all hell broke loose.” He looks unbelievably sad, recalling the tragedy. I take his free hand and softly stroke the back side as he continues. “Thankfully that beam knocked me clean out. I was in the hospital for two weeks. I don’t think I could have handled seeing my father’s body being dragged out from a mine. I’m still gutted that I was too unwell to attend his funeral, eats away at me every single day. And poor Tane, his only brother was one of the guys who was killed. He was the main wage earner and his family was about to lose their farm after the incident. So I purchased the place and put the deed in Tane’s name. That’s what best mates do for each other, eh?”
I nod slowly as he continues with his story.
“The investigators spent five months on site and determined it a tragic accident that could not have been avoided. My da was obsessed with keeping up with safety codes. It would have killed him all over again to know what happened to his men. Now I’m the owner of the Judge Silver Mining Company.”
A heavy moment passes, thick with silence. I clasp his hand. “Judge, I really wish I could understand what you went through. I’m so very sorry and I want you to know that I’m here to listen if you ever want to talk more about it. It’s good to get things out, to confide in others.” I think of my parents, and how I held so much back for so long before finally recounting my story to a few close friends over time.
Giving my fingers a gentle squeeze he says, “Ta, petal. It was a long time ago, seven years now. I still have nightmares, but a steady amount of daily exercise helps me sleep a lot better than I used to. Making the mine safe and staying productive at work has been my mission in life since that day.”
“What about your mother? How has she adjusted? And your siblings?”
“I’m the only child. My Ma is good now. She’s the sweetest woman, always wearing colorful frocks and a smile. Recently she started dating a widower. I’m happy for her. No one deserves to be alone in life, eh, petal?”
“True,” I reply thoughtfully.
“Anyhow, if she ever met you, she’d think you were a choice American. She shares her son’s excellent taste,” he says with a wolfish grin that lightens the sad mood.
“So, how old are you?” I ask, then smile shyly. “Sorry for all the questions. I just want to get to know you better.”
Grinning that infectious smile he states, “Thirty-five. I look it too, eh?”
“Not at all, especially with that smoking hot body of yours!”
“Really?”
Might as well tell him the truth. “Judge, I find you exceedingly handsome. In fact, you are without a doubt the sexiest, most beautiful man I have ever laid eyes on.”
He is immobile. In fact he looks like he has just turned to stone—he’s that stunned by my blatant honesty. A deep pink flush creeps up the back of his neck as he hops up without a word to ignite the gas burners on the stove.
I move to break the silence. “So, what are you creating for us this evening, oh great culinary wizard?”
He clears his throat, still averting his gaze, and says, “Just a simple pasta with marinara and fresh basil. Unless, of course, you would like something different?”
“No, that sounds lovely. Please let me know if you can make use of me.”
He turns around and I nearly sway back into my stool as his cobalt eyes collide with mine.
“Oh, I will indeed, after dinner. That’s a certainty, my lovely.” I suck in a shaky breath in anticipation of this evening’s indecent activities. He continues, “You’re just perfect right where you are, petal. Enjoying the wine?”
“Yes. Thank you, Judge.” Suddenly I feel shy around him, which is perplexing. I push on with my questions. “So, out of curiosity, how did you know my name?”
His eyes soften, as if remembering a fond moment. “I heard your friend call your name while we were having a look at each other back in the roadside café. It’s beautiful and unique, just like you.”
I blink twice. He absolutely unnerves me.
He tosses the pasta into the boiling pot of water before chopping a handful of basil. The delicious aroma fills the kitchen.
Without raising his head he asks, “So where exactly are you from in South Carolina?”
I raise an eyebrow, curious as to how he might know that I’m from the south.
He glances up and grins. “The DJ from Dingo’s, remember?”
“Ah, yes, of course. I’m from Charleston. It’s on the lower East coast. Have you ever heard of it?”
“I haven’t. Is it a scenic town, then?”
“Oh yes. It’s actually quite historic. It sits on a peninsula surrounded by the intercoastal waterway that leads out into the Atlantic ocean. It was fortunate enough to remain untouched by the Civil War. There is a beautiful waterfront park there called White Point gardens where they used to hang pirates. They were suspended from the grand oak trees as a warning to marauders who thought to sneak into Charleston’s wealthy harbor.” I’m about to add that he should visit me there sometime but catch myself.
“Sounds like a cool place. And what about your parents?”
Hesitantly I reply, “They were both killed in a small plane crash when I was eighteen, during my first year of college.”
He abruptly stops chopping and looks up as his body turns rigid.
“I should have been with them on the trip; however, I wanted to earn extra money for school and stayed behind to work overtime during the Christmas break. My plan was to fly out separately to visit them for a long weekend. My father had chartered a private jet for the first time. He wanted to surprise my mom with a route over the Sierra Nevadas. Something went wrong, the investigation pointed to high winds ….” I struggle to continue. “Anyhow, when the police showed up at my job I came unglued. It took them close to half an hour to convince me that they were talking about the right people. After all was said and done, I checked my phone records and saw that I had called their cell numbers two hundred and eighty times in the span of forty-eight hours. I was so desperate for it not to be true. I couldn’t bear to be left alone in the world.”
I look off toward the dark windows, embarrassed about telling him things I have only discussed with a handful of close friends and relatives.
He leans across the bar and rests a warm, comforting hand on my forearm. “That’s such a shame, Valla. I’m sure they were wonderful people. How could they not be, looking at you?”
Yes, they were my world, I think silently to myself.
“Thank you, Judge. They were quite wonderful. My father was an engineer at the port in Charleston. He loved his work and knew how to crack a joke at every turn. And my mother volunteered at two different an
imal shelters in town. It’s a miracle that we only had three cats and a dog. She would have brought them all home to live with us if my father and the health code would have permitted it.”
“Would have liked to have met them, darlin’. What were their names?”
“James and Elena, but everyone called my dad Jack. What about your father? What was his name?”
He looks wistful, sad once again as he answers, “Brock. My father’s name was Brock. He was a fine man.”
***
We’ve just finished a wonderful pasta dinner while sitting close together on his sumptuous black couch. Much of our meal was spent in comfortable silence, which suited me fine after such an intense discussion. He asked me to stay put and relax as he loaded the dishes in to the dishwasher. The roaring fire creates an unbelievably romantic backdrop. He finishes up and returns to sit, and I welcome his closeness as we settle in together.
“What do you do for a living in Charleston then, petal?”
His long arm is draped casually over the back of the sofa and his fingers are twining around a strand of my long hair. His long legs are propped up on the thick glass coffee table. He appears utterly at ease. Why wouldn’t he? It’s his house.
“I’m the director of an art gallery called Prism.”
“Is that what you studied at your university then, in Charleston?”
“Yes, I have a bachelor’s degree in Fine Art.”
He stares at me, his fingers still in my hair, as if processing everything I’ve told him.
“And are you happy working, petal?”
“I have a few wonderful co-workers that make it all worthwhile. I was quite enthusiastic in the beginning; however, as with most businesses, the bottom line became about the money more than the art. It can crush your appreciation rather quickly.”
Playfully he asks, “And what about all the blokes in your town? They all fancy you, I bet.”
Nabbed in New Zealand Page 9