by Flora Dain
Still smiling I lean forward and make a start with a long, sweeping lick right over the surface of the gleaming head of his erection, lingering like he’s ice-cream. He tastes nearly as good so I do it again and this time I lick further, all down one side, plunge deep into the crevice around his root and then sweep back up along the other, finishing at the top with a flourish. Luscious.
He’s watching me intently, his dark look spurring me on. Now he’s moistened I take him deep and set up a lusty rhythm, sucking hard at the end each time, drawing heat to the surface.
It’s heating me, too. Down below I’m throbbing with a steady, agonising drumbeat. My tender places are still tingling from our energetic afternoon. Now they flare with need each time I ride his length, my mouth deliciously filled, my lips lusciously stretched.
As I work him his breathing speeds up and I slow down, keen to make it last. With a lash-fringed smile I glance up and pull away to pause and lick him a little, sucking and then fondling the end with my fingertips as I nuzzle eagerly into the crevices at his root where his salty earthiness tastes almost as good as it smells.
I’m keeping up the pressure on his shaft with firm, smooth strokes. It feels invitingly taut, the ridged veins standing out under the glans like cords, tight and dark, swelling along his column under its distended, silky skin. It slides under my fingertips like hot satin.
Above me I hear him groan. ‘Fuck. You’re good.’
His low murmur is so quiet I’m not sure I was meant to hear this but it thrills me to my core, sending tremors through me that shiver through my belly and settle into my groin in a dull, pleasurable ache. He likes this …
As the tiny drops of clear fluid appear at his tip I surge back with a long, eager tongue, gathering them up as I poise once more over his shaft, and this time I take him deep, forcing myself right down to his root, pausing at the gag to let my throat muscles ease and then plunging again.
Now we go slower as it takes me long seconds to adjust and relax between each stroke. I’m scared he’ll lose patience but he seems not to mind, his hands light and loving as he strokes my hair, his touch infinitely gentle. At either side of me I feel his thighs stiffen at each stroke and way above I hear his breathing grow ragged. With one final lunge I hear him groan as he grabs my head and this time his grip is firm as he speeds me up to match his needs. In seconds he floods my mouth in a warm gush, pumping deep into my throat. I pause to accept his precious fluid as it tingles in my mouth and over my tongue, stinging like thick champagne.
He lingers in me while I hold him on my tongue, careful now, letting him savour the moment. In truth I need a moment too. The experience has been surprisingly emotional as all the pleasure he’s racked up in me over the last two days wins a small, barely adequate thank-you from my eager mouth.
I still feel it’s a poor reward but when I lean back and wipe my lips with a triumphant grin and a sweep of my backhand his glowing smile reassures me he feels repaid.
He helps me up and kisses my cheek, his chest still heaving. In a daze I retrieve my phone – the reason we came back here – and he catches me at the door and kisses me on the mouth, his lips tender, his look full of heat. ‘Thank you, Ella. That was –’ He breaks off, his mouth twisting at the corner. ‘I guess you saw how it was.’
I smile back, shaky now, and feel myself colour once more. ‘I know. For me, too.’
* * *
Dinner goes smoothly for once and we manage to talk idly of this and that without once fighting over Ryan or the tiny matter of the disputed patents or my massive and entirely undeserved net worth. And afterwards we dance together for the first time, and when he pulls me close in the slow numbers I even manage to avoid treading on his feet. What’s harder is dealing with the closeness of him in this very public place, where we drew curious looks the second we walked in. What’s almost impossible is trying not to feel like a giddy schoolgirl in the arms of a prince.
He seems moved too. While we dance he murmurs in my ear. ‘I hope you realise I’m dancing with the most sought-after girl in the room. Do you always get this much attention?’
I gape. ‘They’re looking at me? Why?’
He grins. ‘Who knows? Maybe it’s the just-fucked hair. Or the just-fucked glow in your cheeks. Or maybe it’s the just-fucked dancing partner.’
I grin back, thrilled to have the undivided attention of the best-looking guy here, and especially to have just-fucked him. ‘Then for goodness’ sake wipe that silly grin off your face. They’ll be standing in line.’
He grins wider and propels me towards the bar. ‘Oh, I’m sure you’d deal with it. Listen, I have a favour to ask.’
I glance up in surprise. ‘Sure, anything.’
He waits for the barman to produce a scotch for him and mix an elegant cocktail for me and then ushers me over to a quiet place near the wall. ‘I have to attend a business function here tomorrow evening. I’d be honoured if you’d accompany me. Would you do that?’
I answer without hesitation. ‘Of course, I’d be flattered. Do I get to meet my fellow patent applicants?’
He frowns. ‘Possibly. I’d be grateful if you’d avoid having too many martinis if you’re likely to jump on anybody and sweep them up to our suite. Do you have anything with you that’s –’ He breaks off, and looks troubled for a moment. ‘Forgive my asking, but it’s a formal occasion. I just wondered if you had any evening wear with you?’
‘You’ve got me there,’ I admit ruefully. ‘You’ve already seen me at my most stately. Won’t a cocktail dress be enough?’
He grins. ‘For me? Perfect. But if you’d like to treat yourself to anything extra – a spa? Manicure, new gown, whatever – here, use this. It’s good for around sixty thousand. Amuse yourself in the Dallas stores tomorrow afternoon while I do that damned interview with BGN. We’ll meet up in the evening.’
The rest of the evening goes by in a whirl and to my intense disappointment we run into a group of high-powered friends of his just as we’re thinking of hitting the sack.
From the high-pitched excitement among the women in the group I gather we’ve been the object of fascinated speculation all evening. Darnley makes the introductions smoothly enough but I get the impression he’s as frustrated as I am. And when we finally break away and get back to our rooms the atmosphere is somehow flat.
I realise this as he pours us both a drink and raises our glasses. I give him a playful smile and decide to go for broke. ‘You know, the person who ran into you that night wasn’t really me. I just thought you should know that.’
His expression stays calm. Too calm. ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
I stare at him. His expression is cold, his eyes dark as slate.
What have I said? ‘It means I don’t go around doing things like that with just anybody,’ I say gently, treading water now. ‘It was a one-off.’
I’m trying to be friendly, to remind him of our intense first night together. I want to see where it leads and I’m trying, maybe a little late in the day, to let him know I’m not a tramp.
His furious look tells me I’ve failed utterly. He downs his drink in one and glares down at me. ‘A one-off? What are you saying? That that’s what you like, one-offs? Not what we’re doing now?’
Panic surges. ‘Not at all. I just meant –’
His face contorts with emotion. ‘You meant what, Ella? That this is wrong for you? Well? Is it? Tell me, dammit. Why can’t you be straight with me?’
‘I just worry you think I’m something I’m not, that’s all. Maybe I flatter myself you think about me at all. Goodnight, Darnley.’
I step quickly into my room, shut the door and lean back against it. I’m baffled. What’s brought this on? Have his wealthy friends reminded him I’m not in his league?
As I get ready for bed I realise sadly that his offer of a shopping spree was a none-too-subtle hint that I must up my game. I could take offence. But why not hit the stores, if that’s what he likes?
&n
bsp; It’s his money.
* * *
Much later I wake in darkness to the sound of that man’s voice again. Oddly, he sounds closer than ever. I’ll mention it to the desk staff tomorrow. Maybe there’s a loose ventilator or something.
CHAPTER EIGHT
‘Darnley Wolfe? You’re kidding.’ Billy stares at me over our lunch table. Her sharp little eyes, small full mouth and pert nose bunch with excitement. ‘You mean you’re with him?’
‘Not exactly with,’ I mutter. ‘It’s complicated.’
‘Oh, yeah?’ She snorts as the waiter offers us more coffee and he shrinks, offended.
I coax him back with a smile and he pours our second cups, looking nervous.
‘Not from where I’m looking. You’re sleeping in his suite? He’s asked you to a ball? You’re with him, Ella, trust me.’
She fingers the rim of her cup for a moment, her eyes dancing. ‘Interesting-looking, too. Handsome in a rich-guy kind of way, but he’s got something else. A kind of power.’
I frown. I know what he’s got. I’m still trying to deal with it. ‘It’s not that kind of with,’ I say firmly. ‘He’s trying to keep me safe.’
She gapes, and then grins. ‘What, from Ryan?’
I roll my eyes. ‘I know. That’s what I tried to tell him.’ I sigh. ‘That’s why it’s complicated.’
* * *
Billy called first thing while I was toying with breakfast and wondering when Darnley would show up. At last a quick peek in his room showed he’d already gone out. All at once it made perfect sense that for this evening’s event he’d made arrangements last night. I keep forgetting he’s a busy guy. He plans his days with care – unlike me.
This afternoon he’s got an interview at BG News and I’m hitting the stores to find something to wear. We’re talking fairy princess at the very least, plain old royalty at a pinch.
It’s a tall order.
Luckily a surprise call from Billy turns the scary prospect of a shopping spree in a strange city into a fun day out. She’s passing through Dallas for her firm and has a free afternoon so we arranged to meet for a catch-up chitchat lunch and then she’ll help me shop.
I spend the time before I meet her ferreting about online, researching the annual company bash. Wolfe Security does things big. These events are held all over the world. I’m lucky tonight’s is in the same hemisphere. Last year’s was in Dubai, the year before in Beijing, the year before that in Rio. Compared to these the Gala in Boston where I dumped Ryan was a tea party.
And they’re big on glamour. Last year’s press photos sparkle with celebs, movie people and diplomats. I start off checking out the evening wear but finish like the groupie I’ve become – by scanning eagerly for shots of Darnley. I catch only one. He’s with some dull men in suits, his profile to camera.
Does he suppress pictures of himself? Information about him was sparse. A determined search unearthed just the basics – his name, a distant shot of him on someone’s yacht from a few years back. Nothing personal. Hardly anything on his family or his background.
Rich men cover their tracks.
Billy eyes me shrewdly as I settle up for our lunch. I use my own card for this. I’ll keep Darnley’s strictly for purchases. I don’t want to owe him more than I already do. If he wants me to pay my share of his suite I’ll have to get a raise.
‘So why are you looking for Ryan, of all people? You go for threesomes all of a sudden?’ Billy shrugs off my cross look.
She thinks I’m timid about men and she loathed Ryan from the off. Now I’m wishing I’d given less away. She’s a perfect snoop, her keen nose even sharper now she’s joined Boston’s grandest law firm. Intern or not, I can see her running her section in a matter of months.
But I’ve lived with her long enough to have found defence tactics – stick to basics and sound vague.
I do it now. ‘I’m not looking for him. He just asked me to meet him down here. I guess he’s been delayed. He’ll turn up.’
‘And meanwhile you idle away your days with Darnley Wolfe? Impressive. I have hopes for you yet, my girl. Come on, let’s hit the dress rails. You’ll need something seriously dazzling if you’re going to make a splash this evening. From what I’ve heard he’s got expensive tastes. And don’t blame me if you turn into a pumpkin at midnight.’
* * *
Billy’s good at shopping. She’s got a sharp eye and a brisk way with assistants trying to be helpful. We’re very different physically. She’s small, sharp and bouncy while I’m more the languid, dreamy type but somehow she spots clothes that give me a glow.
Unlike me she loves shopping with all the thrill of the hunter. To keep me on board she makes it simple – showing me three or four items at a time and waving away the armfuls produced by an assistant. And when I finally choose the plainest and least flashy she wisely keeps her thoughts to herself.
When I’ve paid we move on systematically to shoes, a purse and finally ornament. At the bewildering array of hair jewellery, fascinators and baubles I finally rebel. I glance at my watch and hint we’re done.
On the way down to street level I ask about her job. She’s cagey as it’s confidential but still manages to spill a bean or two.
Her eyes sparkle as she lowers her voice to a very public hiss. ‘Right now I’m going through backlogs from old case-files. Old family papers, news clippings, unused depositions – stuff goes back years. All skeletons in closets, I guess. Most of it’s harmless now but we have to check in person with the families before we destroy anything. I’m the only one they can spare so I’m the courier.’ She winks. ‘I get to travel all over, meet the filthy-rich and even get expenses. Not bad for an intern.’
She chatters on and after a final break for tea on the roof terrace of our last store of the day we part with a hug. I’m feeling more relaxed than I have for days and she winks as we part. ‘Have a great time, Cinders. And mind you tell me all about it tomorrow. I’ll call you late – give you a lie-in.’
At street level the uniformed doormen look on as she trots off towards her company’s office block. Laden with carriers I turn to cross the street and walk straight into Cliff Face.
‘Miss Dean. The car’s just here.’
How on earth …? Dazed, I let him prise my purchases out of my hands, duck my head and clamber into the waiting limo as the store’s doormen look on. Darnley is sitting at the far end of the seat, glancing pointedly at his watch. ‘What took you so long? It’s nearly six.’
‘Is that a problem? You said I had all afternoon.’
‘You’ve had it. Who was that?’
‘Billy. She’s passing through. I’ve been staying in her apartment ever since –’
Since the night we met. I go on quickly. ‘She’s here on business so we met up. How was the interview?’
‘Fine.’ He sounds casual, like he’s often on TV. Actually, maybe he is. ‘We made contact with Mitchell. He says he’ll only talk to you.’
‘Surely you knew that?’
Darnley frowns, his jaw set. ‘He won’t say where or when he wants to see you. Or what it’s about.’
I sigh. ‘What a surprise. Maybe it’s not your business. Plus he’s avoiding you, obviously. Just let me talk to him and we’ll get this straight.’
It hits me with sudden force that then we’ll part. It’s a measure of how far I’ve already come with this disturbing man that the idea is ridiculously upsetting. When we’ve talked to Ryan and sorted this out Darnley will jet off back into the hushed obscurity of his private, money-lined existence and I’ll go back to – teaching.
‘She works for my cousin.’ His voice, deep and rich, snaps me back to attention.
‘Who does?’
‘The girl you were with. I’ve seen her in his offices. I checked up on her. Her name’s … Willamina?’
‘Billy, yes. She’s –’ I tail off. I forgot – Billy’s working for Lautner Wolfe. With a prickle of excitement I stow away this new fact – Billy�
�s in his family’s law firm? He’s even linked to a law firm? I’ll process this later.
Right now I’m outraged. ‘You checked up on her? Why?’
‘Standard procedure. We handle all the security for Lautner Wolfe. Someone mentioned a link to you so I remembered the name.’
I digest this in silence, my blood rapidly chilling. So he’ll have checked up on me, too. Does this man trust anybody?
At that moment he looks away to take a call. I see only his profile, handsome and stern as he listens for a moment and then barks an instruction. I answer my own question.
He trusts no one. Especially if they’re linked to me.
Welcome to the strange world of DarnleyWolfe – and a new meaning for the term with.
* * *
Back in the suite I wait patiently while the bellhop wrestles with my armload of carriers and drops them on the bed. He’s gone before I get a chance to tip him, no doubt at Darnley’s impatient glare, and at last we’re alone.
‘Get what you wanted?’
I sparkle back at him, determined not to let his sour mood spoil my fun. ‘It was glorious. And it was a treat to see Billy again. Thank you for this.’ My face falls and I dart him an anxious look as I hand over his card. ‘I’ve spent an awful lot of your money.’
‘Good.’
He pockets it without interest and strolls away as his phone sounds again, leaving me in peace to enjoy my purchases. At the door he calls over his shoulder. ‘You’ve got an hour and a half. We’ll go down at eight. I have people to meet.’
* * *
At ten minutes to eight I’m showered, refreshed and pampered. My bed is a sea of labels, torn tissue and wisps of gold and silver string.
I’ve intensified my make-up, piled up my hair and smoothed on my clinging satin number, the colour sultry enough to brighten my skin and sharpen my eyes, the fit perfect. In the bold store lighting it looked plain and severe amongst all the frills and flounces but now it’s evening. With me inside it, filling it in all the right places, glowing with excitement at the prospect of the evening ahead, it looks quite something.