by Mandy Baggot
‘I think I’d like to meet her,’ Emma said, narrowing her lips and wondering how vile she could get away with being to this woman who had beaten her own son.
‘Please, Emma. You cannot. It is better this way. Please.’
He was begging her. He looked desperate. His eyes sad and sorrowful.
He didn’t wait for further reply. He took off in the direction of the woman clad in a short black dress and high-heeled shoes. She couldn’t have looked less like a mother if she’d tried.
Emma watched him all the way and as he reached the woman she clipped him across the head with her hand, shouting in French. Emma flinched, as if the blow had been inflicted on her. So much for there being nothing stronger than a mother’s love.
Chapter Forty-Five
Present Day
He had opened the mini-bar as soon as he got in the hotel suite. He’d wanted something smaller, something less extravagant but turning up and demanding a room for the night on the spot left him little choice. The honeymoon suite, of all rooms. It was mocking him.
The phone had rung five times and each time he had looked at it hoping for Madeleine. He would much prefer to listen to her cry or scream or beg than see Keith on the caller display and know he would never give up. All these years trying to move on, remembering everything but trying to block it out and finally it had caught up with him like he knew it would.
He turned off the TV and reached for the glass on the nightstand, filled with various miniatures from the mini-bar. He raised the glass to the ceiling and drank it down. As he replaced the glass his mobile phone rang again. A glance to the right and he saw it was Emma.
He snatched it up and answered.
‘Emma.’ Just saying her name had his heart rising, hope soaring.
‘Hello. I… is it OK to talk?’
*
Over her shoulder Marilyn and Mike had Dominic involved in a game of Snakes and Ladders.
‘Yes… I am not at home. I have moved out,’ he responded.
‘Oh. I don’t know what to say. What should I say?’ Emma asked.
‘Say you’ll meet me?’
‘I can’t. I have Dominic and…’
‘Chris.’
‘No. I… we… we broke up. He knows about you, about us,’ Emma informed. There was a pause on the other end of the line. She could hear his breathing but nothing else.
‘I am sorry. I am sorry for him,’ he answered.
She nodded even though he couldn’t see. She didn’t know what else to say.
‘It was what we wanted.’ There was an edge to his words and she felt the same way. So much sadness and heartache. Was any of it worth it? Were they worth it?
‘With Chris, you know, we weren’t right together. Sooner or later this would have happened. It would probably have been later but… it would have happened,’ she babbled.
‘I want to see you,’ he whispered. She closed her eyes and held on to the longing in his voice.
‘Where are you?’ she asked.
‘At the Albany Hotel.’
She took a breath and took the phone away from her ear.
‘Dad, would you be able to have Dom for a couple of hours?’ she called.
‘Of course, love. Is everything alright? Is it Ally and that pilot again?’
‘Don’t be so nosey! Of course we can have him, Emma. As long as he doesn’t eat all the biscuits I bought,’ Marilyn teased, poking her tongue out at Dominic.
‘Are they Bourbons?’ Dominic asked.
Emma put the phone back to her ear.
‘Give me half an hour.’
*
She’d never felt so nervous. It was almost like when they’d first met. Him being the pin-up of the campsite, her being the nerd with the schoolbooks no one gave a second glance to. That day his football had knocked her out of her camping chair, the day he had first touched her hand had changed her whole life. Now, standing outside the honeymoon suite, it was all being brought back to her.
She raised her hand to knock but the door opened and there he was. His hair was a little dishevelled, his shirt open a few buttons and his trousers had no belt but right then he looked more beautiful than he’d ever looked.
She felt her body react to him, excitement building, adrenaline beginning to rush through her.
He opened his mouth as if to speak but closed it again, his chest expanding as he took a breath.
‘I don’t know what to say.’ The words gushed from her mouth.
‘Don’t say anything,’ he responded quickly.
One stride forward and his mouth was on hers, his body urging her backwards and into the suite. The door closed behind them and she was up against it, pressed to the wood as Guy’s mouth explored her neck. She couldn’t breathe. Everything was welling up inside, all the emotion she’d held in, not just lately, but for years, all the anger, the regret, the pain, the hurt, the desperation, all were combining now, growing and spawning, overriding all her senses. She wanted an end to it, to start a new beginning. She needed to get it all out of her system and perhaps this was the way. Right now, with his hands at the buttons of her blouse, his tongue rolling up hers, his breath hot on her cheeks, it felt like the only thing in the world she wanted to do. But it shouldn’t be rushed like this. She pushed him back, gave herself some space, moved from the door.
‘Emma…’ he began. His expression told her he was concerned if they stopped he would lose her.
‘I’m not the girl you fell in love with in France,’ she said, turning back to face him.
‘Yes you are.’ He took a step towards her.
‘No, Guy, I’m not. And you’re not the same boy. We’ve both changed so much, we’ve both got older and experienced different things. Time and situations change people.’
‘Why do you say this?’
‘Because this has to be a fresh start, like we talked about, it has to be… for so many reasons,’ she continued.
She needed to trust the man he was now. Not remember how he threw her love back in her face. They both had to be able to move on.
‘I cannot pretend that I did not know you then. I cannot tell you that my feelings now aren’t because of my feelings before. But I can tell you, everything is bigger and better, stronger and clearer than ever. Love. Love… like no other.’
‘Guy…’
‘Non. I will not pretend this is not the best thing I have felt in my life. You are the best thing in my life. The only thing that matters in my life. I know you tell me I am not Dominic’s father but I could be, if you let me. I should be. He is not here and I am… and I want to be,’ he continued.
Chapter Forty-Six
He took another step closer towards her and she felt herself warming to his nearness. That buzz, the tingling of all her senses, coming alive to his proximity, it was electrifying her.
She gasped as he took a handful of her blouse and pulled her towards him. Their bodies so tight together she could feel his hardness, pressing against her thigh. She couldn’t wait any longer. Didn’t want to wait any longer. Any questions, any doubts had to be put to one side. Passion like this had to be given in to, it couldn’t be controlled.
She opened her mouth, wetting her lips with her tongue and began to unfasten the buttons of his shirt. That tanned torso she’d so admired in her teens was about to be hers again. He closed his eyes as she loosened the shirt from his trousers and eased it back off his shoulders. The muscle definition was different, the core fitter, stronger, more man than youth but she remembered every contour of the frame, the minor blemishes, the birthmark on his thigh.
She locked his gaze as her hands explored his chest. Grazing his navel, up across his abs towards his pecs, lingering on his nipples before curling around his shoulders and pulling his body tight to hers.
*
He wanted her so badly it was already a strain to keep himself in check. He hadn’t felt this way since the last time they made love. Every time with Emma he remembered how he felt like his heart would burst wi
th joy as his body exploded inside her. It had been all-consuming then and having another chance to experience that was blowing his mind. Her touch was sweet agony, her fingertips warming his flesh with every centimetre they covered.
He wanted to touch her, taste her, make her his again. He ripped away her blouse, the buttons breaking their threads and scattering on the floor. He discarded it on the bed.
He made light work of her bra, undoing the clasp at the back with a swift tug and dragging the straps down her arms until he could pull it off from the front. It hit the wall. And there she was. Naked to the waist, with those perfect, smooth, round breasts he’d dreamed about so often.
*
She gasped and he brought his mouth down to her neck, his lips touching the indent at the top of her shoulder bone. His hands worked at the button of her dark jeans while his lips gave feather-light touches to her skin.
Releasing the button, he inched down the zipper and pushed the denim from her hips, all the time, his mouth making a slow, seductive journey down towards her breasts.
As he ducked his head lower she felt herself move towards him, yearning to give him what he wanted. Her breasts were swollen and obvious. Two hard peaks begging for his attention.
A sigh of pleasure escaped her mouth as his mouth, moist, warm, probing, met one of her nipples, his tongue circling the tip, his mouth pulling it further inside. It ached and she groaned, feeling her breasts harden further still, giving away just how much she wanted this. She felt as if every fibre of her was stood to attention, alert, alive, ready.
He brought his head up, found her mouth and with his body, backed her over to the king-size bed. The edge of the mattress caught her leg and she let herself tumble backwards onto it.
He was looking down at her, his chest in time with the motion of his breath. He pulled her jeans completely from her legs and kicked them across the floor.
She wriggled slightly, enjoying the feel of the cotton-covered duvet on her back, arching herself, letting him know this was what she wanted.
He unfastened his trousers, all the time his eyes on her, as if watching her reaction, wanting to see how she felt from her expression. Tight boxers were underneath the trousers and her body tensed at the sight of him. There was no doubt his body desired her as much as she yearned for him.
Before he could move forward she shifted, sitting herself up and edging herself towards the end of the bed.
‘Take them off,’ she whispered, her fingers at the elastic of his shorts.
‘Emma,’ he said.
She knew it wasn’t a protest, more a pause, but going slow wasn’t an option now. She was lit up, a fusion of lust and love, bubbling and boiling with no chance of turning down the heat.
He slipped down his boxers and discarded them, standing before her. Bare.
*
This was it. This was his chance to truly put the past behind him. It was a different time, another place. He really could lose himself in her. He wasn’t the naïve boy he was back then, eager to succeed, desperate for money. He’d learned so many lessons.
Her gaze made him feel suddenly self-conscious, a little vulnerable. He was proud of his physique, he worked hard to be this way for the football, but standing naked before her he wasn’t worried about his flesh being on display, it was as if she could see inside him. So many secrets, so many bad, evil things were in there. He didn’t want any of that to touch her.
She put her hand on his penis – so gentle – then settled her fingers at the base, guiding him towards her mouth.
It was almost more than he could stand when she folded her lips over him, moistening the skin, flicking her tongue down his length. She moved downwards agonisingly slowly. Each rhythmic stroke of her hand, followed by the pressure of her mouth, driving him mad with desire.
‘Emma,’ he said, his hands in her hair, caressing her scalp.
*
She didn’t flinch or alter her position. She wanted to be as close as she could be to every part of him. The salt slick that tainted her tongue was driving her crazy with lust. She was somewhere else in her head, a different person. One who wasn’t a sensible schoolteacher or a mum with several broken relationships behind her. She was the Emma she’d been before everything got messy – with the bonus of being eight years more experienced in the bedroom.
She took him further into her mouth, pulling back more urgently, increasing the pace until she felt him claw at her shoulders.
‘Emma… you have to stop… I cannot…’ he begged, his voice hoarse.
She withdrew, sitting back, looking at his erection. She had never seen someone so turned on, so hard. She had made him that way and that made her feel so special. She shimmied up the bed until her toes were at the bottom and her head was on the pillow.
*
She looked so perfect at that moment it stilled the intensity in him for a second. Her hair was fanned out on the bed clothes, her lithe body stretched out for him, only a small cotton triangle of underwear separating her from complete nakedness.
Her brown eyes held no innocence though and he knew just from looking at them what she longed for him to do. He lay down on the bed alongside her, his head next to hers, one elbow propping him up. With the flat of his hand, he began a path across her body. Brushing her nipple, moving over her ribs, the flat of her stomach and further down until he reached his target.
Thick fingers rolled her underwear downwards and he felt her arch herself to this movement, helping him remove the barrier. She shifted and he took off the underwear, pushing it off the bed. He sat up. Now he could see all of her.
*
He kissed her, exploring her mouth with his tongue while his fingers slipped inside her.
Instinctively she closed her eyes, needing to experience this with all her other senses. Touch, taste, smell…the scent of him was on her fingers, his warm breath heated up her cheeks as he kissed her, each kiss deeper, fuller, more intense. And as he caressed the inside of her mouth, his fingers were smoothing over her most intimate parts.
She let out a moan as he found the spot that made her go weak. With his thumb he started a circular motion that sent her nerves into a frenzy. With every pressure she was pulled higher, heading towards a heavenly pleasure she’d almost forgotten existed.
‘Guy… I want you. I want to feel you.’ She was so close to erupting already she wanted to share it with him when she did.
‘Not yet.’ It was almost a bark in response.
‘Guy,’ she begged. Her hands clutched the bed linen as she felt his fingers slip right inside her. And then they were gliding in and out of her, bumping against that sweet spot inside that had her gasping for release, begging for more but wanting it to end.
‘Let go,’ he willed.
‘No. I want you.’ She moved one hand to his head, swept her fingers into his hair.
‘I want to see you let go,’ he urged her.
She couldn’t hold on. His words were exciting her, tipping the balance, making the difference between control and free-fall. His thumb pressed firmer, his fingers rocked her faster and she came undone with a sound that startled even her.
*
He pressed the flat of his hand against her, feeling the pulsating throb of her orgasm as she caught her breath, her torso stretched and taut as the ecstasy flowed over her. Seeing her like this, his need intensified. She widened the gap between her legs as he moved over her, watching every slight motion of her body, the way she was wetting her lips with her tongue, blinking her eyes, expectant.
This was what he wanted. This was all he had ever wanted. The love of this woman. This pure, wholesome, good and natural love born so long ago and still as strong.
He moved above her, studying her expression, waiting for her to come right down from the mountain of joy she’d elevated to. She shivered, then reached up, putting a hand to his cheek and holding it there.
He leaned his head into the embrace, touching her palm with his lips, closing his eyes
as she caressed his hair with her fingers.
*
And then she let go. She spread out her fingers, travelling them wide and firm, across his torso until she reached his penis. She took it in her hand, slipping the skin back, guiding it towards her. She could see from his expression how it felt. He was keeping his eyes closed, his lips tight, a cheek muscle twitched.
When she had him in place, just on the outside edge, she took away her hand and placed both of them on his hips, shifting herself forward until they both felt the connection.
‘Emma,’ he said.
She felt him push against her, slow and tempting, easing his body into her.
‘I want you,’ she whispered. She knew what he was feeling. It had been so long and it was going to be different. But everything she’d experienced so far gave her no concerns, only sheer joy at having another chance.
He let out a groan and moved deeper into her, still controlled. He cupped her breast with his hand, his thumb flicking over her nipple until it was restored to an olive-shaped peak and she whimpered as he moved steadily inside her, back and forth, each time filling her a little more, a little harsher.
She could feel him setting light to a part of her that had lain dormant. With each thrust the delicious sensation built-up more and more until every nerve-ending was tingling with his promise.
‘Guy!’ she called out as he quickened his motion.
‘You feel this?’ he asked, dipping down low and hard.
Her breath caught in her throat and she reached out for him with a guttural sigh, turning her head to one side.
‘Don’t… don’t stop,’ she begged, rocking her hips in rhythm.
She was too far gone, she knew that. His love-making had already sensitised every part of her, inside and out. It wouldn’t take much more.
‘Look at me,’ he urged, putting one hand in her hair and turning her face to his again.
She locked her eyes with his as he pushed further and further into her, their symmetry aligning perfectly together and in time.
‘Come,’ she begged, ‘Come inside me.’