Island (Portentous Destiny Series Book 1)

by S. E. Rose

  It takes us about two hours to drive there, arriving at half past ten in the morning. She parks just off Princes Street and we walk up to the main drag.

  “I need a coffee first!” she exclaims.

  “Coffee?” I ask.

  “I know, totally un-British of me, but I spent a term in the U.S. and now I’m addicted to the stuff.” She winks at me as she leads me towards a tea shop.

  “Where did you study?” I ask.

  “Boston,” she replies. “Although, I hear I should have gone to Wisconsin, would have been more useful for my business. But I’ve been there since then.” She laughs at herself and orders a caffé mocha. I get myself a cappuccino and we begin walking down the street. For the next three hours, we pop in and out of some stores. I find a few dresses and skirts and a new pair of cute wedge sandals. She buys some jeans, a sweater, and some black leather flats. We put our haul in the back of her car and decide to buy some sandwiches and have a picnic in the park.

  “Have you been here before?” she asks.

  “Many times,” I say smiling, remembering. She nods and we finish our lunches and head back to her car. On the way, we pass a lingerie shop. Mal catches me lingering and grabs my hand, pulling me inside. She proceeds to force me to purchase at least five new sets up matching bras and corsets and thongs. Thongs! I try to talk her out of this, explaining that I am not a thong person, but she insists. I curse her. She laughs. I scowl, but in the end, they all end up in a bag on the back seat of her car.

  We’re back to my house by 4:00 p.m. and we say our goodbyes as I unlock my door and toss my loot on my bed and then toss myself on my bed. Shopping is exhausting. I’m not lying there two minutes before my phone buzzes.

  Jack: My place or yours?

  I laugh out loud and Hagrid, jealous little beast that he is, jumps up right on my stomach.

  “Hagrid!” I yelp and he proceeds to jump right back off, but not before impaling me with claws. “Great,” I say to myself grabbing my first aid kit and dabbing some antibacterial cream on two claw marks on my stomach.

  Laura: Yours.

  I look at my text. I really should work, but I want to explore Jack’s house. He’s so mysterious and I want to know more about him. I wonder if that makes me a creepy stalker or if that just means I’ve read too many Nancy Drew novels as a kid.

  Jack: Alright. When?

  I reply soon and I throw my phone on the bed and open my laptop. I work on a few pages of my book, not feeling extremely into it. I check FaceTime and leave my kids messages before changing into a new sundress.

  It only takes a few minutes for me to get to Jack’s. I pull in alongside his car and I see him in the garden. He looks up at me and waves me over. I walk through the garden, intentionally swishing the skirt of my new dress as I walk.

  “You look lovely,” he says. “Shopping day was successful, was it?”

  “Very,” I reply with a curtsy.

  “Excellent,” he murmurs and places his work gloves on a bench before bending down to kiss me. “I took the liberty of making us some tea. I hope you don’t mind.”

  “By tea, I’m hoping you mean food,” I say with a smirk.

  “You Americans and your improper use of English,” he chides.

  “Sir Jack, please teach me your British ways,” I say sarcastically as I walk toward the house. He slaps me on my ass and I yelp.

  “Scottish ways,” he corrects me and then he grabs my arm, whirling me around into him. He leans down very close to my face and my eyes begin to close, but just before his lips meet mine he says, “Don’t worry, I’ll teach you all my ways.” And he brushes his lips against mine in a complete tease before walking into the house. God, is he sexy. I try to maintain walking as my legs go weak. It’s hard to believe it’s been nearly two weeks. Jesus, it’s hard to believe it’s been only two weeks. I look at Jack as I walk toward the kitchen; his sexy, tight ass looks delectable. He abruptly turns around and escorts me through another door.

  “Tonight, we shall dine in style,” he says, taking my arm. I look around and see that I am in a dining room. It is red, a deep red, and covered in dark oak that has mahogany inlaid patterns in it. It is rich and opulent and exactly what I’d expect in an English manor. I guess that is essentially what this gatehouse is, a mini English manor house. There are candles burning on the table, they are about halfway down and there is seating for two. He’s set places directly next to each other at the giant, mahogany, carved table in the middle of the room. He pulls out a chair for me and I sit as he scoots it in toward my place setting.

  “Would the lady care for a drink?” he asks, leaning toward me and giving me a wink.

  “Yes, please,” I respond, feeling a blush start across my cheeks. He reaches over and brushes one of my cheeks. “I love the color of your skin,” he says and I nearly fall apart at the table.

  He leaves me then and I look around. I can see through open double sliding pocket doors, that there is a living room beyond. Although the lights are off, the sunlight trickles in through the windows. The room is quite large, two stories. There is a grand fireplace at one end and bookshelves lining the walls on either side of it. They are very tall and each has a ladder in front of it. The type you slide back and forth. The walls are green-on-green wallpaper and there is more oak trim. There’s a bay window in the front that has a window seat and there are several chairs and couches and side tables. I see a few photos on the tables, mostly of a young girl and a few of two small boys. I can’t see them well from where I sit. A TV is mounted above the fireplace mantle.

  Jack returns with a glass of wine and sets it down in front of me. “Tonight the chef has prepared a feast of Italian food,” he says very formally and proper. He bows and exits. I chuckle at him.

  He returns a moment later with a large platter and sets it down in front of us. Then he’s back out and then back in with another platter. I look at him quizzically and he removes the platter lids to reveal a plate of chicken Parmesan and a plate of spaghetti. He looks quite pleased with himself, so I decide I better play along. He serves me first and waits anxiously for me to try it.

  “It’s actually quite good,” I say, honestly surprised.

  “Ye of little faith,” he pouts, looking quite hurt. “Pray tell, was your husband not a good cook?” I laugh. I laugh for much too long. When I finally gain my composure, I turn to him.

  “Sorry,” I breathe. “It’s just that Sean was a horrible, and I mean horrible cook. I doubt he could have boiled as much as an egg, let alone pasta. I did all the cooking, not always because I wanted to but because he probably would have unintentionally poisoned us if I’d asked him to prepare dinner.” I smile at first and then a hint of sadness starts to descend upon me.

  “OK?” he questions, looking into my eyes, worry on his face.

  “Fine,” I say not wanting to ruin our meal. We dine in semi-silence broken only occasionally with the random thought. We finish and I insist on helping to clean up. I regret this decision the second I enter the kitchen and see the mountains of pans, pots, and dishes. He shrugs with a smile. “My sous-chef was off tonight,” he says.

  “Apparently so, and so was your dishwasher,” I say and grabbing an apron from the pantry door, I put it on and start washing dishes.

  “You look very domesticated, my lady,” he states, handing me another plate.

  “Yes, well, two kids will do that to you,” I say. I can see he wants to ask me something, but he shakes his head and goes to hand me a bowl instead.

  “What?” I ask. He shakes his head. “Jack…What?”

  “Your children…,” he trails off not knowing how to word his question. “Did you not want children of your own?”

  Oh geez, here we go. Every parent of adopted children that has no biological children undoubtedly will get this question eventually.

  I sigh and put down the last of the pots to soak in the sink. I untie the apron and pull it over my head, hanging it back on its hook. “It just wa
sn’t met to be,” I said. When I glance up, I can see that he doesn’t understand.

  “The twins, they had a hard time at first. Lily has some learning challenges and Nick was so clingy and afraid we’d disappear. They both suffered from various levels of attachment disorders. It was tough, really tough. We threw all our money and time into helping them.” I pause taking a deep breath. “I did get pregnant a few years after they came home. We were freaked out by it. Not at all how I imagined it. We had no extra money and we were so scared how the twins would handle it. But I lost the baby a few weeks after we found out. It was my fault…,” I trail off again, closing my eyes and willing myself to speak through the painful admission. “I didn’t know I was pregnant and I was on medicine for an infection and I drank. I did everything wrong. After that, well, we just closed that door.” The pain of that memory is still raw and my eyes well with tears that I fight back. I have cried so many tears over this that I find it hard to believe they still come after all this time. I internally curse myself for not pushing the subject more with Sean, not trying again after the miscarriage. The thought that I could have a piece of him with me still haunts me deeply.

  He’s quiet for a long minute searching my face. “I’m so sorry, love. You do know that it wasn’t your fault,” he whispers and takes me in his arms holding me. I nod and let him hold me, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath his shirt. I know it likely wasn’t my fault, but it still haunts me. I wrap my arms around his waist and nuzzle against him. He wraps his arms tighter around me and kisses the top of my head, rocking me slightly back and forth in his protective grasp. After what feels like an eternity, he pulls me back from him and wipes a stray tear from my cheek.

  “Life doesn’t always turn out how we want it to,” he says and, somehow, I think he’s talking more about himself than me. I shake my head, trying to clear the memories from it.

  “Do I get a tour?” I ask, looking around and trying to change the subject. He smiles affectionately at me and nods. As we walk around, I’m taken to a small office and a music room, two small bedrooms, and a bathroom and a conservatory. Then upstairs to three other bedrooms and two more bathrooms and, of course, there is the master suite. We end the tour there.

  “So, if this is the gatehouse, where’s the manor house?” I ask.

  “Down the lane about a quarter mile,” he says.

  “Do you help out on the estate?” I ask. I can see his face change and I know I’ve overstepped again, but I don’t understand why.

  “Enough chitchatting, my love.” And he pulls me to him, crashing his lips against mine. He unzips my dress as he kisses me, letting it fall at my feet. I undo the buttons on his shirt and push it off his shoulders and reach for his trousers. This time he lets me take them off. I pull them down with his underwear, freeing his erection as I go. I reach for him, taking him in my hand and running my fingers up and down his length. I want to taste him so badly. I bend farther down until my knees are on the ground and he is in front of me. He is so tall, that I sit up as high as possible as I slowly lick from the base of his penis all the way to the tip. He lets out a sharp breath. I cradle his balls in one hand while taking his base in my other, and slowly I push his erection into my mouth. He moans as I run my tongue down it again before pulling him back out only to take him again. His length is too much for me. I try taking him all the way into my mouth but it only makes me fight the urge to vomit. Damn my terrible gag reflexes! I take him again and again into my mouth sucking hard and making him cry out my name. He thrusts against me, his fingers woven in my hair holding my head. I can feel his head of his erection enlarging and I know he’s almost there, but before I know it he’s pulling me up to his mouth.

  “I don’t want to come in your beautiful mouth,” he murmurs. “Not tonight.” He caresses my cheek and runs his thumb over my lips. He removes my bra and panties, planting a kiss at the apex of my thighs as he helps me out of them. He raises me up, setting me on the mattress. Pushing me farther down on the bed, he crawls up between my legs. His fingers run circles around my nipples and he bends down, lazily taking one in his mouth and sucking hard. An involuntary moan escapes my lips as he does this again and again. His hand moves down my belly until it reaches the juncture of my thighs. His fingers slip between my folds and he moans at my wetness.

  “God, you’re so wet,” he groans. He slides two and then three fingers into me as he moves them in and out, brushing my bundle of nerves with each stroke. I’m building higher and higher, and then his fingers are gone. I start to open my eyes, and then I hear the condom packet, and a second later he’s inside me in one deep thrust. I cling to him as he pushes deeper and deeper inside me. He feels so good. I lose myself in the moment and then he slows. “Wait for me, baby,” he whispers against my ear, sucking on my earlobe as he trails kisses down my neck. He reaches behind me and clutching my ass, he pulls me toward him. I start to cry out, knowing that I can’t wait any longer. I can feel my muscles clenching around him as I come and come again. Just as my final orgasm is beginning to wane, I feel him surge forward against me and he yells my name before crumbling on top of me.

  We lie in silence for several minutes as he feathers soft kisses at the base of my neck. I can still feel his semi-erect penis inside of me and I lavish in the way he stretches me and the way I cling to him. He glances at his clock and then at me.

  “Do you want to sleep here?” he asks. I nod and snuggle against him as he rolls over, pulling me on top of him. I lie depleted, my hands on his chest and my head on my hands. My legs dangle on either side of his thighs. It’s a semi-child’s pose position and I am suddenly so tired. He kisses my hair and then pulls a blanket over us. I can feel him reach for a bedside lamp and then darkness descends on the room. I listen to his steady breathing. His arms are wrapped around me holding me tight. His right thumb makes small circles on my back. I am so content that I don’t even realize when I fall asleep.

  I wake to light billowing in through the window. Jack is sitting on the bed. He’s clearly back from a run and he’s watching me.

  “Morning,” he says, brushing hair away from my face.

  “Good morning,” I say, smiling and pulling a pillow closer to me.

  “Oh, no…you need to get up, my love,” he says.

  “I can take a day off,” I mumble half into the pillow.

  “What’s that?” he asks, pulling me over so my face is no longer buried in the satin material covering his down feather pillow.

  “Day off?” I ask. He starts to shake his head and then stops and stares at me. “You are so beautiful.”

  “Jack,” I whine, drawing out the last part of his name. I toss a pillow at him and he laughs, slapping my thighs with it before he jumps on the bed and proceeds to tickle me. I laugh as I haven’t laughed in years.

  “Please, no more,” I finally gasp sucking in air between tickles. He concedes and sits down on my thighs. I feel a bit exposed in front of him.

  He leans down and kisses me. I kiss him back, pushing my tongue into his mouth, deepening our kiss.

  “If you don’t stop that, then we’ll just be here in bed all day,” he says, pulling back to look at my eyes.

  “So what?” I say.

  “Hagrid?” he asks.

  “He’ll live, I gave him extra food last night,” I reply.

  “Your book?” he replies.

  “Book schmook,” I say. “I’m allowed a day off once in a while.”

  “OK,” he says. “But let’s drop your car off at the cottage first,” he suggests. “I have an idea.”

  I look at him intrigued, but he gives nothing away. Instead, he distracts me by rolling over with me so I sit on top of him. As I feel him growing beneath me, I pull his erection from his shorts and I slowly guide it into me. He stops me, pulls me up, opens a condom wrapper, puts it on and then proceeds to place me back on him. I give him a “seriously” look and he gives me a “warning” look. I let it go and start to move against him. After a few sec
onds, I’m not thinking about anything except the extreme pleasure of the friction I feel between us. I fixate on it and then grab his shoulders as my orgasm grips me. My body is a mass of shakiness that he supports as he sits up farther, so we are nose to nose and my body clenches him. I feel him explode inside me as we both cry out together. We lie there for a while before showering and making our way down to the car.

  We take my car back to the cottage. He walks me out the back door, locking it behind us. I look at him for direction. He takes my hand and begins to walk with me down the path. We walk for a while, much farther than I normally go. We are getting closer and closer to the castle. And only when I see him halt at the top of the stairs do I understand that he wants to take me to the castle. It’s been years, but I reminisce as we walk around the ruins of the old structure. We waste most of the midday there before heading back to my cottage. I’m starting to feel the writer’s itch. Maybe I’ll just make some notes and write tomorrow. I glance over at him and see he’s watching me intently.

  “You want to write, don’t you?” he asks quietly. I smile at him with a brief nod. But I don’t want him to leave me. I feel like I need his touch in order to write. I take his hand and guide him inside.

  “I have an idea. Will you go with it?” I ask.

  “As madam wishes,” he says cheekily.

  I push him down on my bed and put my headphones on his ears. I find a song on my playlist, “This Year’s Love” by David Gray and press play as I pull myself into his lap with my computer on my lap. I turn around and tell him to close his eyes. He complies and I settle between his two muscled thighs and begin typing. I then line up a few songs to play for him and lose myself in my writing. I can barely make out “London” by The National and then some Oasis. Then I put on some Vega4 and follow that up with various songs as they come to me in between writing. After an hour, I can tell by his breathing that he has fallen asleep. I turn around and watch him. I close my laptop and push it to the end of the bed before kissing him. He wakes with a slight jump and reaches around me, pulling me down on his chest. He removes the headphones.