"I love you. Don't send me into hell without you.” He had never begged before, not even in prison when Bad Dude had come along and threatened to bash his face in if Michael didn't give him his food. Instead of fighting, because it wasn't worth it, Michael had given him the tray of what looked like minestrone but could have been anything.
Placing her palms against his chest, she gazed into his eyes, her own fiercely irate. “We had something once. It no longer exists."
He edged forward. “I'm innocent. Please believe that."
"Stop protesting your innocence, James. Save your breath. I saw you.” She looked him up and down. “If you come one step closer, I'll scratch your eyes out."
He recoiled at the vehemence in her voice. Like a cat with its fur sticking straight up, she was ready to strike if the situation warranted it.
"I don't want you touching me. Not ever again."
Resignedly, blinking back sudden tears of defeat, he said, “I won't if you don't want me to.” But he couldn't let her go, not that easily.
She was completely dressed, her features set in stony harshness.
If he had had any other alternative, he would have used it but he slid to his knees. “I'm begging, Nicole. At least forgive me, if nothing else."
The one woman who meant anything to him glanced at him before she stalked off towards the door. “Don't beg. It won't make me change my mind. You're a has-been."
The muscle under his eye twitched relentlessly as he rose. The life was being squeezed out of him. Without her, life was an empty charade. “At least let me take you home."
"But I don't want you touching me.” She shrank back from him as if he was some leper. With heartbroken certainty, he knew what it was like to be imprisoned in his own life with no avenue of escape.
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In Michael's luxury car, Nicole tucked herself against the passenger door like a limp doll as he drove to her house. His knuckles were white gripping the steering wheel. He didn't glance her way.
When he turned up the driveway, she saw her Topaz was parked in front of her house. Surprised, she wondered how she would explain coming home with Michael in the middle of the day. She straightened her shoulders. She didn't owe Brad any explanations. Let him think she was having an affair with his boss. Churlishly, she thought she might want to make him jealous with another man but she wondered if he would rise to the bait. On second thought, she no longer wanted to marry Brad, so why bother making him jealous? What purpose would it serve?
After the car came to a stop, she pushed open the passenger door, got out and slammed it as hard as she could before she stomped towards the house's front door.
The car had already begun to pull away when she shouted, “Damn you! I hate you, Michael Karlisi."
Of course, he couldn't hear her. She shut the front door unusually hard and stalked up the stairs, determined to change her clothes. As far as she was concerned, Michael could beg until the moon fell from the sky but she wouldn't change her mind. She no longer felt muddled. Her body finally agreed with her mind—neither wanted anything to do with Michael. He was a part of her past now. He would never be able to insinuate himself into her life again.
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Chapter Eleven
* * * *
"That's the bestest meal I've ever had,” Bryan told Cathy as he patted his stomach. “I'm about to bust."
"Bestest, huh? I don't think I recall being told one of my meals is the ‘bestest'.” She laughed cheerfully and they began to clear away the dishes.
Bryan didn't feel it was appropriate to watch after she had done all the work of cooking. That simple act had made him long for a woman around the house, not for her housekeeping or cooking talents, but because he loved her.
"Want another beer?” she asked, giving him a quick look over her shoulder. “And stop ogling my ass, will you?"
"I can't help myself,” he muttered. “Uh, yeah. That would be great.” Louder, “I mean about the beer."
She brought the cold beer and set the bottle down before she hooked one leg over his knees and brazenly straddled him to sit in his lap. “My you have a big cock,” she purred, stroking his hard shaft through his tented pants. Her fingers sent an electric shock of awareness through him.
He realised he badly needed the physical contact. She blew softly in his ear and tickled the crown of his ear with her warm tongue. Her crotch rested next to his cock.
"Just relax,” she murmured, wrapping her arms around his neck and leaning forward to lightly kiss the base of his throat. “Just let the day go by and enjoy the sensation of what I'm doing."
"Stop,” he said tersely.
She drew back, pouting, her arms still around his neck. “Why?"
"We're related. We can't, well, you know."
"You mean fuck each other?” Flirtatiously, she batted her eyelashes.
"Yeah, that.” He wasn't normally tongue-tied but she left him panting for her body.
"We're not related,” she said, dipping her hand under his shirt to edge her palm up along his ribcage. She rubbed his beading nipple between two fingers. He groaned.
"You're a Carmichael,” he ground out. All he could concentrate on was her peaked nipples against her fuzzy sweater.
She giggled. “You want to feel them?"
"Man, I want to touch your breasts in a bad way but what do you mean we're not related?"
"We're not but I don't want to go into the details. They're kind of sad."
She reached behind her back and loosened her bra. Her breasts, plump and heavy, fell forward, taunting, available, and desirable. “You're sure one hot chick,” he murmured, barely recognising his throaty voice.
He placed his hands over hers and together they rolled up the hem of her sweater, revealing a flat, tanned stomach. Her skin was satin smooth against his callused knuckles.
"Yow, mama,” he breathed as her breasts, luscious and full, came into view. They were even larger than he had imagined, with big, cinnamon-coloured areolas. She squirmed in his lap, making him think he was so on fire his cock was going to poke through his jeans.
She bent forward a little, bringing her nipples close to his face as she drew the back of his neck closer. The fragrance of apple blossoms and her musky female scent drove him beyond the point of reasoning and he licked one nipple while he toyed with the other, urging them into stiffer, raised peaks. She ran her fingertips up and down his tingling and sensitised upper arms. He had never before seen such a perfect creature.
The sweater pooled on the floor by the chair while she shook her head and freed her plaited hair. The silky mass tumbled over one shoulder. He thrust his hands into the strands, revelling in the sheer silkiness. She pressed her breasts forward into his face. He closed his mouth over one nipple, squeezing and kneading the soft globes together. She took tiny gasps of air.
Running her hand through the fine hairs at his nape, she blew little breaths on his ear and trailed light kisses across his scalp before she reached down and unbuckled his belt and unzipped his fly. His cock sprang free over the top of the waistband of his briefs. He didn't repress a mighty groan as she circled her small hand around his shaft. She reached further into his white briefs and grabbed his testicles. He lost himself to all rational thought, immersed in the arousing moment. She was seducing him skilfully and effortlessly.
She let go and wriggled out from over his lap just long enough to shimmy out of her pants. She wore nothing underneath. Silently she handed a condom to him.
"Yow, mama,” he said again, setting the package on the table at his elbow.
She seized his fingers and raked them through her pubic hair. “I've been so wet since you came in the door,” she admitted in a velvet voice.
"Me too,” he said in a husky voice. “Couldn't think of anything else but getting inside you.” He let her direct the sexual encounter.
She pulled his fingertips in between her thighs and along her labia to the cream
y juices. Her clitoris was a piece of hardened steel, straining against the soft pad of his thumb. When she threw her head back, revealing the slender column of her throat, he began to plant languid kisses along its length, tasting her hot, salty skin.
"This is bliss,” he murmured against her throat.
She grunted something unintelligible but it sounded like agreement.
He inserted a finger into her wet sheath and began to imitate the movement of a cock thrusting in and out. “Come for me, baby,” he whispered, sliding two fingers into her tight vagina. “Come for me."
She rode his fingers and he watched with fascination as her areolas became puffed up and her breaths came in ragged, panting gasps. Her head fell back and she mewled as he thrust in and out, faster and faster. Cream flowed over his knuckles and onto his lap.
Her body tensed, and for a brief moment she paused before she drove her vagina hard over his fingers and a cry of anguished pleasure burst from her lips. He could wait no longer and slid the condom on. His cock strained towards her pussy. He pulled her up and over him, embedding his cock deep inside her wet sheath. He rested for a second, before Cathy pressed her fingers against his shoulder in an attempt to hurry him along.
"Ride me, baby. Ride me hard.” He set his hands on her hips as she pumped up and down. Her breasts bounced and he knew she was about to orgasm again as she clenched his cock in a heated embrace. Her contraction triggered his climax and he spiralled in pleasurable madness.
Salty perspiration covered his chest and thighs. “Man, you're fantastic,” he muttered, trying to work himself free of the lethargy great sex left him with. Cathy was not only incredibly sexy but a terrific lover.
"You're not so bad yourself,” she said, pulling him to his feet.
He stood, still weak from the mind-blowing orgasm. “What do you have lined up next?"
"You'll just have to wait and see.” Helpless to do anything else, he tagged along behind her, ready for more pleasure.
* * * *
Nicole pursed her lips at the sight of Brad seated in the chair next to the bedside table, his neck slumped forward as he slept. The lamp cast a muted glow over the bed. Shadows lurked in the far corners. The gym bag he had packed so hurriedly the night before rested next to the chair on the floor. The clock said it wasn't yet six in the afternoon.
"Brad? What are you doing here?” she whispered, hoping not to startle him.
He blinked his eyes open. “I live here. Remember?"
"No, you don't. You kicked yourself out. Remember?” She didn't want to be mean-spirited but she wasn't up to dealing with Brad after Michael's shenanigans. In the last twenty-four hours, one man had helped himself out of her life and she had forced another one out.
"I need a beer,” he grumbled, stalking past her.
"No, you don't. You need to get yourself another place.” She grabbed his arm.
He stared at her dumbfounded. “What's gotten into you? You never talked to me like that before."
"You didn't give me a reason to.” She swivelled on her heel, and walked down the stairs, knowing Brad followed.
When she got to the bottom, she said, “Last night, you made a lot of accusations, said things you can't prove based on one photograph. Now you want a beer? Why don't you find your own place and buy your own beer?"
She glanced at the curio cabinet with the crystal figurines she had lovingly collected over the years—her one connection to her parents and the life she had lived in Ashcroft. She took a deep breath. “This is my house. I bought it with the money my parents left me in trust. You don't have two pennies to your name but you can dare to run me down for this alleged affair with another man. You sure have the nerve."
Brad continued to gape. “I'm surprised,” he said at last. “Surprised at how you can talk to me."
She placed her hands on her hips. “Tell me. In the last year, what have you done in the way of paying bills?"
He opened and closed his mouth several times but didn't seem to be able to tell her what he wanted.
"Most of the money you earn goes towards booze."
Lines of sadness pulled the corners of his mouth down, making her think he was about to burst into tears but she refused to feel pity. She was a caring, mothering sort of woman and he had sensed this and used her to get a home and a living space from her, when no one else would have bothered.
"Why did you come back?” she snapped. Like Michael, Brad siphoned off her emotions, taking more than he gave back. No, she amended, like Michael had been. When they had been younger and innocent, he had given her more than she gave him. She refused to think about him, his muscular, graceful agility and the handsome features that still turned her heart inside out.
"I wanted to apologise about last night and ask if you would find it in your heart to take me back,” Brad said, interrupting her thoughts.
She frowned. “Have you heard a word I said?"
"We have a good thing going here. Yeah, we have a few problems we need to work out but hey, who doesn't?"
Slowly, Nicole came to the conclusion that Brad listened to his voice best and tuned out what he didn't want to hear. Her words had been wasted on him. He could talk all he wanted, she decided, while she determined what she would have for dinner. She hoped he would leave soon.
She opened the fridge and glanced inside, noting he had sidled up beside her.
"We can make this work. If we try."
She sighed. “Your offering of an olive branch is in vain and comes too little, too late.” Why was it that none of the men in her life understood what ‘no’ meant?
"An olive branch? I don't get it."
"I wasn't expecting you to.” She pulled the freezer door open and looked inside. The pickings were bare, not a TV dinner in sight.
"What are the Christmas presents in the living room about?"
She pursed her lips and stared at him. “Don't tell me you went out and bought a bunch of presents. Especially when you can't afford them."
"I had nothing to do with it."
Usually she found it easy to read his expression, but tonight there was a darkness behind his eyes that wasn't normally there. As if he was waiting to pounce on her.
She returned to her task of hunting down something she could cook a quick meal with. Unable to find anything in the freezer, she stared inside. There was one egg in a cardboard carton and two pieces of bacon wrapped in cellophane, and if she wasn't mistaken there were some canned mushrooms in the cupboard. The thought of cooking made her lose the little appetite she had.
"There are several packages in the living room on the couch.” Uncharacteristically, he folded his arms across his chest.
"What are you trying to do?” She turned on him. “Why don't you leave me alone?"
"They're addressed to you.” He didn't flinch from the intent, calculating look she gave.
Puzzled as to why he was making such a big deal out of a couple of presents, she headed into the living room to take a look. She flipped on the light and gaped in shocked horror.
Every available space in the room was filled with red and white roses, leaving the air heavily fragranced with their perfume. Three expensively wrapped presents, ranging from a large to a small box, suggested someone had spent a great deal of money. Pretty bows with gold trimmed edges curled around the satin wrapped boxes.
"This should be good,” Brad said from behind her. “Why don't you open them?"
Who on earth would send her such lavishly wrapped gifts? Nicole had no idea and she didn't really want to find out but her curiosity got the better of her.
Holding her breath, she opened the first package, her fingers sliding over the velvety satin and brushing against the silky bow with its gold encrusted edge. She spluttered when she drew out a lacy, delicate white negligee and thong.
In the next box, she found a white silk camisole and another pair of thong panties. When she drew the last present from its iridescent wrapping, she gasped and dropped it back inside as
if she had been burned by a raging fire.
"I'm curious,” he said, reaching inside. “What's in there?"
She fought him for the photograph but he was stronger. He examined the photo. “Ah, I see. You're having some more fun. Naked and tied down to a table.” He bestowed an icy frown on her.
She couldn't find anything to say. To her deep mortification, the photo showed her in the restaurant Michael had taken her to this afternoon. She was naked, gagged, and her arms and legs were tied to the four corners of the table. Her nipples looked hard and inviting.
He caught sight of a note in the box at the same time she did. She didn't bother reaching for the paper. Her ears rang and her heart raced like an out of control stallion. He reached inside the box and pulled out a note with elegant, script handwriting on it.
For my beautiful sweetheart.
I love you.
Michael.
Michael's name had been signed at the bottom with a flourish.
Fury seethed within her. So the bastard, even after his pretty words, hadn't left her alone.
"Rumours have been circulating around the plant for months, Nicole. Something about Michael and a mystery woman. She's going to have his kid. They're in love but the woman is engaged to someone else. I really wondered who that poor sucker could be. I never thought, in my worst nightmare, those rumours would be about me, that I'm that poor sucker."
Nicole's thoughts whirled in turmoil. She worried her lower lip, wondering what she would do to get back at Michael, how she would get Brad out of her house. So that's what the guy at the Christmas party had been talking about, he had been referring to her as having a nice ass but it wouldn't last long in her condition.
Without warning, Brad went ballistic. “Look at you! You're a tramp! Look at your tits pointing in the air just waiting for someone to fuck you. Do you think I'm that stupid?
"I fooled myself into thinking someone as sweet and innocent as you couldn't fool around. But was I ever wrong! You're a two-timing bitch. All you can do is spread your legs open for the first rich guy who comes along. What happened to our sex life? Hell, it was because you were screwing my boss.” Unsteadily he walked to the door.
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