“Zoë,” he breathed. “Oh, Zoë. I love you, babe. I always have.” His voice was heavy.
She lifted her hips, riding up with a flex of her knees on the seat either side of him.
“Oh, yes.” He gave a low laugh. “Christ, I’ve missed you.” The desperation had gone -- this was what he wanted. This was what he’d always wanted.
He sprawled on the seat, his hands resting on the bunched fabric of her skirt around her hips as she rode him with abandon, looking down at him with laughter in her expression. He bit his lip; he was going to come, and he wanted to wait for her. He felt her begin to quiver and reach. He moved his head back to look at her again, and his hands tightened on her waist.
“You fill me so well,” she whispered, leaning over his face and breathing the words to him as her body sapped the strength from her voice.
“Oh, sweet Zoë, I’m going to come.”
She closed her eyes, paused, and panted. He felt her sex judder. She was close, too. When his cock began to reach, he crushed his face into her breasts, and her arms enclosed his head there. He held her tightly, and they didn’t separate, coming violently at the very same moment.
Chapter Fourteen
The mobile phone crackled into life and began to beep demandingly.
“At bloody last,” muttered Cal. He was standing at the very pinnacle of the city, amongst the stream of tourists ascending the royal mile, just outside the grounds of Edinburgh Castle, with Gregory and his two dubious-looking henchmen. They’d been glaring at each other all the while. There was some gratification in watching Greg’s bruise develop, but Cal was rapidly losing his self-control. What the bloody hell is taking Jason so long?
“Calvin speaking.” He spoke gruffly into the phone, long since having lost his patience and manners. His fears about Georgie’s safety had left his nerves ragged and his body taut with stress. He listened to the embarrassed apology for the delay, and then Jason’s voice at the other end of the line went rapidly on, putting him in the picture. The scowl on his face began to lift somewhat. “Good news,” Cal responded briefly. “I’ll check in with you when I’ve got Georgie back with me.” He snapped the phone shut and dropped it back into the top pocket of his shirt. He calmly rested his hands in the pockets of his jeans and smiled at Gregory.
Gregory shifted from one foot to the other. He clearly wasn’t expecting this change of mood, and it was obvious to them all that he had somehow lost the upper hand. “Well?” he asked cautiously, dabbing at his bruised nose with a tissue to make a point.
“It seems you’ve had a wasted journey.” Cal couldn’t resist smiling, despite the fact that the situation was far from being completely resolved. “Zoë intends to publish the photographs herself.”
The irony of the situation was lost on Gregory -- his jaw dropped open, and he shook his head in disbelief.
“In fact, they told me to be sure to let you know that she’s going direct to a Mr. Joel Elliot.” Calvin laughed and then coughed into his hand, well aware that there was still business to be attended to.
“But ... she can’t. It’s my scoop,” Gregory declared, full comprehension of the situation far from being within his reach.
“I believe that decision is firmly in her hands, and if you don’t tell me where Georgie is, right now, I will call the police. There’s nothing to bargain over anymore, and I think you’ll find that blackmail and kidnaping adds up to a fair stretch inside.” He tapped one finger on his top pocket, reminding them of the presence of the mobile phone.
The two henchmen started backing away, glancing at each other in concern. Gregory had lost all of his bargaining power in an instant, and the threat of being arrested for kidnaping was obviously not a prospect any of them felt comfortable with.
Gregory rubbed his chin and then put his hands out in a gesture of compliance, shrugging in an attempt to look nonchalant. “Surely there’s no need to get the police involved.” He offered a strained smile, attempting some form of reconciliation.
Calvin folded his arms across his chest. “You’ve got ten seconds. Call whoever it is that’s holding her and tell them to release her. I need to know that she’s okay.”
Boy, did he need to know that! When he’d heard that they had taken her hostage, a tight, painful fist had taken up residence in his chest. He’d never forgive himself if anything happened to her. He’d never forgive them for using her this way. He wanted to take the little shits apart, limb by limb. He’d only held back his base urges by a thread of reasoning, and the promise that he would make their lives hell after he had Georgie safely back in his arms again.
Gregory pulled his mobile phone out of his hip pocket and reluctantly scrolled for the number. Cal watched, tension beading up his spine. He could hear the phone ringing at the other end, but it just rang and rang, and for some reason the call remained unanswered. Gregory eventually closed the phone and shrugged.
“He’s probably just gone to get her something to eat.”
Calvin glared at him.
“Don’t worry, please. He’ll be looking after her.”
“If she has even been touched, I will not hesitate to report you to the police. We’ll track you down.”
“Okay, okay,” Gregory responded and turned to the men behind him, waving his hand and beckoning. One man started searching through the pockets on his biker jacket as he walked over. He pulled out a key card and offered it to Greg, who passed it to Cal. “She’s at the Metropolis, room 212.”
Cal took the card, turning it over in his hands, staring at it with unseeing eyes. They’d been holding her in a hotel. Fury was building up inside him, and it was only the presence of a passing group of school kids that stopped him pasting Greg against a nearby wall.
Gregory shuffled his feet. “She’ll be fine; you know I wouldn’t condone any harm. In any case, Foster wouldn’t have the guts to lay a finger on her.” He glanced back at the man who’d had the key. The man shrugged and dropped his gaze to the ground, eager to keep out of it.
“You’d better pray that’s the truth, or you’ll only live long enough to regret it.” Cal turned away and jogged rapidly downhill, waving at the first taxi he saw, leaving the three of them standing there with a complete loss of purpose after the unexpected turn of events.
“Who’d have believed Zoë would have had the guts to do that?” Gregory made the remark to no one in particular, shaking his head. “And what’s Foster up to -- do you think he caved and gave her the other key?”
They had argued over whether Foster was the right man for the job, earlier that day. Why hadn’t he answered the phone? Greg glanced at his companions sheepishly. They both shrugged, unwilling to comment. There was an awkward silence. “Have you ever have been to Edinburgh?” The two of them were Londoners. They both shook their heads.
Gregory flapped open his wallet with a deep sigh, remarking to himself that he’d been hoping to make a rather substantial financial gain from this expedition, not spend his own bloody cash. However, some major face-saving was in order, or these two would tell the whole paparazzi network what a balls-up he’d made of it. “Come on, then. You two may as well do the whisky tour while we’re here.”
* * * * *
The taxi ride took just over two minutes. For Cal, though, it seemed interminably long. He glared at the bustling streets and groups of tourists crossing their path. In his mind he’d been turning over the facts and the possible outcomes of the whole escapade. What a fine mess this had turned out to be. Georgie had offered support and tried to help them, and they had inadvertently put her in danger.
When the taxi finally pulled up at the Metropolis, he dropped three notes on the passenger seat and leapt out of the car, leaving the driver with a surprised but happy smile on his face as he counted the cash.
Inside the plush reception area, he darted toward the sign for the lifts and within seconds was upstairs and striding down the corridor in the direction of room 212.
The ornate brass numbers
on the door twinkled happily at him when he drew to a halt in front of the door. He put his ear close to the door, but it was solid and he couldn’t make out any noise from within. He wanted clues, clues as to what he would find inside. What sort of confrontation was about to transpire?
He wondered if the bloke holding her was still in there, or would his colleagues have notified him to get the hell out? Was Georgie even in there now? He strained his ears. Nothing. Except, maybe, very faintly in the distance ... a radio? Or was it the sound of a woman’s voice, singing? Georgie?
He slipped the card key into its niche and rapidly turned the handle when it clicked open, stepping into the room. The door swooshed shut behind him. His glance first took in the lunch tray sitting on a table near to the door. Beyond, he saw the strewn sheets on the empty bed, before his gaze found the man who was sitting on a heavy chair at the end of the bed, facing the headboard, as if he’d been watching over it. Cal’s eyebrows shot up when he realized that the man was naked, bound to the chair, and gagged with what looked like something you would tie the curtains back with. He stepped closer and saw that the man’s ankles were tied to the legs of the chair with bits of torn sheet, and his wrists were bound behind his back with what looked like the remains of Georgie’s leather belt. A towel had been thrown over his crotch, as if someone had found it an offensive sight.
The man turned his head slightly to look at Cal. He looked scared, shifty, and very ashamed of himself before he glanced away. Cal turned from the scene and followed the sound of humming that came from the bathroom.
He walked over to the doorway and there she was, standing at the washstand, wearing only a towel, her hair damp around her shoulders. She was casually applying her lipstick in the mirror. He watched silently, in awe, as she followed the outline of her full lips with the creamy red stick and then wound it closed and dropped it into her handbag, which was sitting on the washstand in front of her. She turned toward him, one hand resting on her hip, her long, tapered fingernails tapping gently at the curve of her hipbone.
His chest filled when her gaze locked with his.
“What perfect timing. I was just about to call you.” She walked toward him, smiling happily.
He watched, mesmerized, as she sidled across the space between them, the sight of her body making his hands tingle with the desire to grab her into his arms and stroke her every inch of flesh, reclaiming her.
Her lips were full and slightly open, the color in her cheeks warm and vibrant. She was rampant, a real hot-blooded siren, and he was madly in love with her.
She drew up in front of him and slid one hand round the back of his neck.
Relief began to flood over him. He gave a croaky laugh.
She arched one eyebrow quizzically.
He drew her in against him, sliding his hands in around her waist. “I’ve been out of my mind with worry.” His voice was hoarse. “I should’ve known that a woman like you could look after herself,” he added quickly, trying to cover the emotion in his voice.
“You’d better believe it.” She kissed him deeply.
Cal growled and grabbed her close into his arms, kissing her mouth hungrily, claiming her back.
After a minute, she pulled away. “Are the photos safe?”
“The photos are going to be published.” He shook his head when her eyes widened. “Don’t fret, my love. Zoë has got them, and she’s the one who is going to publish them.”
“Really?” Her eyebrows went up.
“Yes, and she wants Jason to take more.” He laughed, deeply amused at the outcome now that they were all safe and accounted for. “Apparently the whole thing was perfectly timed ...” He glanced back at Foster. “How on earth did you manage to restrain that lumbering yob?” He nodded toward the tethered man, who shuffled restlessly on the chair. He was getting curious about what exactly he had missed here.
“Let’s just say I caught him when his guard was down, when he was distracted by other things.” She smiled.
Cal felt a burst of pride and then a deep sense of longing as he looked at her. She was such a sexy woman, so beautiful and intelligent, too. Not to mention damned resourceful. The woman he had sought out for her sensuality had gone far beyond even his wildest imaginings. He kissed her, long and hard, prying her mouth open with his tongue, his hands roving all over her body.
In the background he could just make out the yob, watching them as they embraced. Was he getting off on it? Cal slipped his hands down her back and cupped her buttocks, watching, as the yob grew more restless in response. He was erect, that was obvious, and he was wrestling with his burden. He seemed to be getting a tiny amount of friction up against the towel, but the look on his face showed that it was frustrating him even more. The guy had obviously been that way for a long, long time. He ground his hips into Georgie, kissing her shoulder and crushing her buttocks in the palms of his hands. She plucked at him with urgent hands. The man responded in kind, fidgeting again, but the more he moved his hips, the further the towel slid away, frustrating him even more.
Cal felt two hugely conflicting desires: he wanted the man to see her -- he wanted the whole world to see her and to witness her sensuality -- and yet he wanted to possess her and savor it all for himself.
“I want to have sex with you now,” she murmured against the skin of his throat.
“You do?”
“Yes, and I should warn you, I’m feeling dominant. You might have to do as I say.”
Yes, he was surprised, but pleasantly so. “What about him?” He sensed she didn’t give a damn about him.
“Let him watch, to complete his punishment.” Her eyes flashed. “They made me lose the lingerie I bought!” she added, and pouted at him.
She looked so very much like an adorable little sex kitten that he wanted to carry her off in his arms and make her purr with contentment.
“All right, let him watch, but only because I want him to know you’re all mine. Georgie, I’m not sure how much I want to share you anymore. I’ve got this feeling I’ll be guarding my own paintings of you. Will you stick around to keep me sane?”
Her warm smile unlocked his final doubts and set them free.
“Oh, yeah, if that’s what you want.”
“I want the world to know we’re really together, and I want that bastard Richard to back off because he knows it, too.” He’d said the right thing; he could tell by her expression.
“But, Cal, I thought you didn’t do favorites?”
“So did I, but something about you changed that.”
“Is this some sort of confession?” Her eyes sparkled.
He nodded. “Georgie, I love you.”
“I love you, too. I think I always have.” Sheer joy sped through her veins. And now she knew he loved her, too, and her heart was full to overflowing.
His hand reached forward to undo the towel and let it fall to the floor as he drew her toward the bed.
She began to strip off his shirt, her fingers tugging on the buttons. She undid his fly, then pushed him back against the bed where he sprawled back, watching her hungrily. She wanted to reunite with him in the most intimate way possible. She wouldn’t be satisfied until she’d had the man she loved inside her again.
Sparing a brief thought for her dirty little peeping Tom and his punishment, she went to the foot of the bed, bent over, and crawled up the length of Cal’s body on her hands and knees, exposing her intimate flesh to the man behind her. Foster could look at her, but he couldn’t touch. Oh, no. A stifled moan reached her from behind.
She smiled up at Cal. She felt deliciously naughty, rich with emotion and powerful -- gloriously female and powerful. Their eyes locked, the deepest and most intimate understanding passing between them in silent messages.
She took him in, to the hilt. It felt so good, she could hardly move. When her head rolled forward, his chest arched up toward her, his ribcage jutting, his neck a line of tensed muscle. His face was filled with sheer ecstasy.
She crouched forward and stroked his face. Her hands reached instinctively into his body, lining his neck with their touch. He was watching her as she began to rock on him. He looked so gorgeous that her inner sex grabbed fiercely at him, and he gave a sweet flinch in response.
She reached her hands out to feel the hard muscle across his shoulders. His body was so strong, so perfectly formed. She spread his arms out to the sides with her strokes and felt the muscle with her fingers.
“You feel so good.”
“I know I do.” He gave a sudden, joyful laugh and stretched his hips up, pushing her up to ride his thrust.
She fought him back, trapping his prone body, pinning him down with strong hands on his wrists and the clutch of her sex on his cock. “Tell me what you’re feeling. I want to know.”
Her hair brushed over his chest, and he leaned up into it, grabbing handfuls and holding it as she moved. He groaned, his hips pushing up into hers.
“Cal, tell me.”
“So warm and soft, wet ... and yet the way you hold me ...” His words came slowly, drawn out with each movement of her hips.
“More, tell me more. I want to know.” She stirred faster on him, thrusting and pressing down hard, demanding his response.
“Building, it’s building up.” The effort to speak took immense concentration. His brow was furrowed, his expression almost pained as she ground herself down onto him again. “So wet,” he whispered. “You’re driving me crazy, Georgie. I want you all the time. It feels so good ... like heaven is there.” His hand pulled free of hers and rested over the rocking bone of her pubis, his eyelids lowering as his mouth opened in response to each movement.
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