Her Irresistible Guardian

by Lisa Torquay

  Mark lifted his remarkable eyes to her. The expression on her face said everything, even if she hadn’t. A rush of gladness ran through him. She looked so beautiful sitting there serenely. He shrugged and dipped his hands in his pockets. “You’re welcome.” They glared at each other for a moment in silence. He could think of nothing else to say, so he just turned and left. He walked the hallway to his room feeling lighter, even if the weight of her irreplaceable absence was telling darkly on him.

  The Georgian mansion was in the dark as Mark stepped in that evening. Just a faint light shone in the entrance hall. Amy had left the office at her usual hour. Where might she be? She hadn’t said anything about going out or something. Maybe she had retired to her room, even though it was quite early. Earlier than usual for him.

  He threw his coat and tie on the sofa and went to the kitchen to eat something. He needed a shower, a cold one. To endure another agonising night without her. He finished his apple and went upstairs to his bedroom.

  As he pulled the door, his mouth fell open. Amy was lying on his king-size bed. The soft bed-side light on, illuminating her lush body covered by a transparent lacy negligee. His body prompted for her like lightning. His eyes caressed her from her honey haze pools, to her full breasts barely visible through the lace fabric, to the darker shade on the juncture of her thighs. He was lost. And he was found, as a sunny joy dominated his heart.

  “Mark, come. I can’t wait any longer.” Her voice a velvety whisper, her eyes two pools of promise.

  He didn’t need it said twice. He strode to the bed and lay over her, being immediately nested between her flexed thighs; wrapped by her arms. Her soft body welcoming him that way provoked such a rush in his guts. He sighed and buried his face in the curve of her neck, his arms circling her under her spine. She smelled of flowers and her own womanly scent.

  “Oh, Amy. I miss you so much!” He groaned and his mouth covered hers in a deep thirsty kiss.

  Amy was on the limit as well. She had had her share of lonely nights longing for him. So much so that she had started wondering whether pushing him away was the right thing to do. But when he came to apologise this morning she knew she had to do something special for him. She stopped at a fancy underwear shop after work and bought that sensuous piece. In her bedroom, she took a long scented bath. Then she watched attentively for his arrival home and went to his bedroom to surprise him, when she heard him coming up.

  Mark ceased his kiss to unlace every tiny satin ribbon that tied her negligee closed. Each unbound ribbon revealed more of her creamy skin, which he worshipped with kisses. When he uncovered her breasts, he caught his breath at her beauty. He praised both full mounds in every possible way, one at a time.

  “Amy.” He whispered in delight.

  Amy arched for him, moulded her body to his and drank on his caresses as they were water in the desert. She unbuttoned his shirt removing it from his muscled shoulders in need to feel his smooth tanned skin and the taut muscles of his broad chest and his arms, section by section. Her feet stroked his legs over his trousers, making him feel even more wrapped in her.

  His fingers found her lubricous centre and set to torment her to unbearable level. Her head fell back, lips parted, eyes closed, craving more. Craving all.

  Sensing her readiness, Mark unfastened his trousers, making his notable stone-hard member pop out in bold exhibition. And embracing her again he finally dived in her. Slow, deep, sleek, extracting a long groan from her delicious mouth.

  Receiving him deep in her felt like glory. It was more than her body. It was more than simple lust. It was as if her soul was getting fed, transcending what words could express, going beyond the tangible understanding. She held him, arms and legs, seeking the whole of him, making all her skin touch his.

  But he was on the verge of an abyss, sweat seeding his forehead. “Amy.” He moved deep. “You’re driving me mad!”

  She moved her hips in search for more. Her fingers in his hair, her groans more desperate, biting her lips as pleasure increased. The world exploded in a multi-prismatic light. A cry echoed in the room.

  She squeezed him so tight that she hastened him. He moved in quick wild thrusts and he fell into the abyss in a dark consuming pleasure that gave her all he had. He lifted his head in abandon and grunted exultant.

  He fell on her totally spent and they were holding each other like this for a long time. After a while they changed positions. He spooned her from behind, lacing her tightly. “I want you to sleep right here with me from now on.” He murmured hoarse in her ear. They fell asleep pacified at last.

  Mark sought avidly after her the whole night. Such a long time away from her had thrown him into a starvation he wasn’t sure he’d be satiated of so soon. She drained him and she filled him with more energy at the same time. Total fulfilment spread over him each time he lost himself in her.

  Next morning Amy woke up on time. She sat on the bed, sheet falling from her naked body. Mark stirred and opened his eyes to a faintly lit grey morning.

  “Don’t go so early.” He moaned and his hand slid from the nape of her neck to the small of her back lazily.

  “I will, Mark. It’s my duty to follow the working hours.” She looked for her negligee on the floor.

  “You know you don’t have to.” He neared her body and circled her hips, pressing his need onto her.

  “Of course I do.” The temptation of him was a seduction difficult to resist.

  He kissed the top of her thigh. “We can go public about this. Everybody will understand.”

  She turned abruptly to him and looked at him astonished. “We won’t! I don’t want to go through this grinding.” She found and dressed her negligee.

  “Alright. I take it back.” He conceded, but secretly, he wanted to show everybody who she belonged to and shove the competition away. But he had to tell her about her father, first of all.

  “Thanks.” She stood up and went to her room to prepare for work.

  Days went by at work. Mark set their nights aflame. Whenever she was at home earlier than him, she retired to his king-size bed and, if dozing off, awoke by his ardent love-making. It was so consuming physical and emotionally that it made them fall asleep exhausted.

  The R&D department was finally a reality. A cocktail party would welcome the new employees that evening. Amy had just enough time to go home and change into a fashionable golden cocktail dress. The colour matched perfectly her eyes and hair. It had a high-waist bellow her full breasts and fell in a satin skirt straight to her knees. Her shinny cinnamon curls were caught in a loose chignon on the top of her head, with some ringlets falling around her face. High-heels and a shawl complemented her look.

  Mark didn’t have time to go home, but he was magnificent in his fine black suit and red tie. He turned and saw Amy arriving at the reception hall and his breath got caught in his throat in complete stupefaction. She was the most beautiful woman in the world. And all he could think was how he’d strip her off that dress later that night.

  “Your ex-charge is worth a painter’s master-piece.” Mark heard Juan comment beside him.

  A red-hot spear of jealousy cut through Mark and he had to hold himself with all his will-power not to react physically to the project-of-a-Latin-lover’s comment. “No doubt about that.” Mark grit between his teeth.

  He knew Torres was testing him. It had been going on for a while. The boy wanted to prospect information on what kind of relationship they had. It seemed neither Mark, nor Amy were very helpful in the matter.

  Mark gave a short speech congratulating the HR department for their achievements and Amy in special. Then he introduced Juan, who presented his project and introduced his team. Champaign and caviar were flowing liberally.

  As the cocktail went on, Amy received a lot of male attention. At that moment, Mark observed she was being monopolized by Torres. He talked near her, too near. He smiled and touched her at every opportunity. This was cooking Mark up. He approximated Amy with a sm
ile made of concrete on his face. He couldn’t take that anymore.

  “If you will excuse us, Torres.” He eyed the guy directly in the eyes. “There’s someone I want Amy to meet.” He almost grabbed her elbow and walked away with her.

  Amy felt awkward. Even though she was not comfortable with Juan’s attention, she’d not be so impolite as that. She looked at Mark as he dragged her across the hall and irritation dominated her. “How dare you embarrass me this way?” She hissed at him.

  “That project of a Latin lover was eating you with his eyes, didn’t you see it?” He answered with a smile plastered on his face so the others wouldn’t suspect their ruse.

  There was no reason for Mark to be so cross. Didn’t he know that there was nobody else? Didn’t he know that she couldn’t so much as look to other men even if she wanted? That he had captured her body and...and...

  “Mark!” They heard someone behind them. “There you are!” It was the finance manager, Will Haggard.

  “Haggard.” Mark answered with polite impersonality.

  “I’ve got something I’d like to discuss with you. Shall we?”

  Amy slipped away as Haggard took Mark’s attention. The cocktail party had gone as far as it would, so she decided to take her leave. She talked with a few colleagues on her way to the entrance door and intended to wait for Mark there. He appeared at her side in no time.

  “Wait here for a moment. I’ll get my car.” He looked at her with his devilish focus and she saw a mischievous hunger in them. It wired a whole chain of reactions in her body.

  Their short drive home was made in silence. Amy was torn between vexation for his behaviour at the party and the response her body always had to him. Intense, irrevocable.

  Chapter XI

  They stepped in the Georgian mansion entrance hall. Mark threw his keys on the small table by the door and enlaced her from behind, in the dark. He rested his lips on the nape of her neck.

  A flash of arousal rushed through her body. She held his strong arms and her head fell on his broad chest. Fallen lashes, parted lips.

  “All I could think the entire evening was how I’d undress this outrageously provocative dress from you.” He nibbled the curve between her neck and her shoulder, making her body heavy and wanton.

  As he pressed her against him, Amy could feel his full erection through his clothes. And she wanted it all to herself. One of his hands covered her breast over the satin bodice and she was shamelessly at his mercy. She turned to him and her arms passed around his neck, while one of her legs rose to circle his hips.

  “Holly Heaven!” He exclaimed before he dived into her full sensuous lips and his arms tightened her even more.

  This made it possible for her to raise her other leg and clutch herself wholly to him. Her skirt gathered at the top of her thigh, showing her lacy stay-ups. He groaned in approval and took her up to his room. He closed the door and she was leaning on it.

  “Now, Mark!” She was moving her hips, searching for him, fumbling his trousers open.

  He tore her lacy panties and entered her as if his life depended on that. He opened her dress and arrested one of her hard nipples in his mouth. Her fingers merged in his dark hair as he thrust deeper, faster. Release came in a ball of fire that engulfed them both in a dark wave of pleasure.

  Mark took Amy to bed and placed her carefully on the mattress. He helped her finish undressing and covered her tenderly. He got rid of all his clothes and lay beside her, holding her close. They drifted into a recovering sleep.

  Later that night Amy awoke with the soft moon-light on them. She turned to Mark. He had his feline stare opened watching her. She turned to him, her body half upon his. Her hands started caressing his muscular body, revelling in his smooth skin and silky hair on his chest and six-packed belly.

  A haze of sensuality dominated her. She went on kissing his neck, his broad chest, tasted his nipples and ever lower, kissing every inch of his magnificent body. Her lips followed the track of silky hair down to its end. And she explored what came next, extracting moans from him. She took Mark to the edge as he delighted himself at her every caress. They made love again in calm sensuous warmth.

  Next morning Amy awoke at her regular time, but Mark remained asleep. He seemingly got used to her following her working hours.

  Ready to go to work she descended the stairs and, after a quick breakfast, took her bag to leave. She passed by the small table on the hall and saw some letters on it. She hadn’t seen them last evening. Mrs Smith was supposed to leave hers at her room and Mark’s at his study. The good lady possibly forgot it. Among those, there was a strange envelope addressed to her she had never seen before. She took it to read in the office.

  Sitting at her desk in the office, she opened the letter. As she read the content, he mouth fell in utter surprise. It was sent by an accountant office and stated a considerable amount of money in her name. She had never heard of it, most probably it was a mistake. Immediately, she called the accountant’s office.

  It turned out that her father had made some wise investments that bore fruit along the years. As her guardian, Mark became the contact to whom the accountant sent her correspondence until she became eighteen. And after that? Why didn’t he inform her? She concluded he hid it deliberately, for some reason she could not grasp. The amount was enough for her to live comfortably on the interests it produced. She could have decided to do anything with her life four years ago. She still could.

  The knowledge that Mark hid this from her on purpose felt like an atomic bomb had been thrown at her feelings. She felt rage burn through her, leaving bitter sorrow at its wake. Her rational thought was overturned. At work, she sat in her office for a long time looking blankly at the laptop screen, too astonished to even move. She was at a loss at what to think, what to do.

  At lunch time, she left MBS in a blurred mixture of feelings, thoughts and confusion. She arrived home, ran to her bedroom and blindly threw mounds of messy clothes in a bag. She fumbled it closed and dragged it to the garage.

  Mrs Smith was at the back of the Georgian mansion directing the staff about the housework to be done. She didn’t see Amy coming home or carrying a bag. Amy came to the backyard, empty hands, and greeted Mrs Smith more warmly than usual, inwardly saying farewell. The middle-aged woman had been her mother-figure for these past years, but Amy couldn’t tell her about what happened, the older lady was too faithful to Mark.

  She dropped something at Mark’s study and left the Georgian mansion without taking heed to where she was going. Tears were burning in the back of her eyes. There would be time for them. Later.

  Mark arrived at the Georgian mansion that evening in a red rush of longing. He hadn’t seen Amy the whole day. She had left word in her department that she’d be on some errand during the day. He thought that weird, but waited to talk to her when he came home. Swift strides, he walked in, looking for her.

  As he stepped into the entrance hall, the stillness struck him. The house was quiet. Too quiet. Everything was perfectly in order, as if nothing had been touched after Mrs Smith left. Sitting room, kitchen, stillness. His bedroom, silence. Panic crept in his blood. He stormed in her rosy bedroom, nothing. Better. Less than nothing. Jerking her wardrobe open he saw a good amount of her clothes missing. Colour drained from his face. In quick, trembling movements he picked his mobile and dialled her number. Voice-mail.

  He dashed downstairs. He hadn’t looked in his study, maybe she was choosing some books. He almost destroyed the handle at opening it violently. No one. His attention darted to his desk. He saw a paper that wasn’t there before. He clasped it: the photocopy of the finance consultant’s statement. And a damn yellow post-it on it: ‘You’ll certainly agree with me that this is a deal-breaker. A.’ Was all the note she had left.

  His mind imploded and his legs gave way as he crumbled on the chair, head down. Dear god! He hadn’t counted on losing her. Much less this stupid way. How the hell would he survive without her presence? Wi
thout her, full stop. He had been so paralyzed by the fear of losing her if she got control of her own life that he ended up losing her exactly by trying to keep her. He had kept her in the dark about her rights and he was reaping the results of his actions now.

  In the days that followed, Mark became a phantom. He couldn’t swallow a single piece of solid food. He mostly drank the night away. In tacit words, he explained to the HR department that Amy had to leave due to an urgent matter. He instructed Travis McDougall to stay in her stead in the remaining few weeks, when Susan Baron, the manager on childbirth leave, would return. Most of his work was being carried out by Ms. Scott, his efficient secretary. His apathy shocked her and she knew it had something to do with Amy’s absence.

  But Mark wasn’t a man who gave in so easily, or he wouldn’t have built a security system empire. For one, he went back to his heavy weight-lifting practice. As if his muscles could shelter him from his puzzled, gut-wrenching feelings. And he drowned twice as hard in work, in a vain try to anesthetize the tearing longing she left in him. He couldn’t run away from himself in the cold lonely nights though.

  Even if he drank. For when he drank his memory would run loose. Uncontrollable. Rewinding and replaying every tiny second of her, of them. Agonizingly. He was sure he’d go crazy, because he felt as if there was a hole in his...in his... Bloody damnation! Heart, yes, heart. How the devil did it happen? It had always been there. Somehow. That’s why he never got to be attached to any of his mistresses. She was the gravity centre of his life. First, she inspired his carefulness, protective instincts. Then, well, then it was this consuming need, craving, that he never fully understood. If only he had known better.

  It was Friday evening and he dreaded going home. No, it was not home anymore. It was simply an empty, silent, ghostly house, a mere soulless shell without Amy. His feet took him heedlessly to the pub next to the company. He sat at the counter alone with his glass.