‘I … don’t know …’ She was trying to construct some kind of sentence, or at least a thought that made sense. She was still trying when a very unwelcome third party appeared at their table.
‘Deano, I thought we were going to …’ Lawrence Harville stopped short and ran a hand through his impeccable hair, staring at Kayley.
She shrank back, wanting to pull the hood all the way over her face.
Shit.
‘Well, well,’ he said. ‘If it isn’t our little canary.’
Seeing that Deano’s curious expression demanded satisfaction, he waved a hand that was much less nonchalant than he appeared to want it to be.
‘Oh, nothing you need to worry about. Just … never mind.’ He made a huge effort to drive Kayley out of his field of vision. ‘Our meeting?’ he said. ‘We really need to get some of the fine detail sorted out.’
‘Look, I said I’d call you. I’m busy here, yeah? Lunch? With a lady? So I’ll see you around, OK.’
Harville pinched his lips, his cheeks whitening.
Kayley had seen that look on him before, and the last time it had been the precursor to a slap across the face.
Not this time, though.
‘Don’t forget,’ he muttered, before stalking out of the dining room.
Kayley looked after him, her eyes wide.
‘Fuck me, another bullet dodged,’ she said with sincere relief, once he was safely out of the building.
‘Do you really think he’s out to get you?’
Deano, interested, put down the forkful of salad he’d been about to shovel into his mouth.
‘He definitely is. I grassed him up. And you know what the rules are in Bledburn.’
‘Thou shalt not grass,’ agreed Deano. ‘Right. I’m going to level with you about something else, Kayley. I hate the bastard. I don’t want to deal with him. He’s a Harville. But he’s managed to get his name mixed up in this talent contest malarkey, and I can’t seem to prise him off it. I’m hoping that, if I give him enough rope, he’ll eventually hang himself.’
‘They didn’t get him last time,’ she said. ‘He’s coated in Teflon, that bastard. Nothing sticks to him.’
‘I’ll stick to him,’ said Deano. ‘Like glue, if I have to. I want the last traces of Harville out of this town, for good.’
‘Well, that’s something I’d definitely want to help you with.’
He tilted his head to one side, smiling at her consideringly.
‘You know, I’m glad we ran into one another, Kayley. Something tells me we’re going to hit it off.’
Chapter Five
JENNA COULDN’T QUITE believe what she was doing. She stopped once, twice, three times, to look at herself in the mirror and snort with blushing laughter.
Outside, Jason was hacking away at the undergrowth in the least accessible part of the garden, stripped to the waist and mouth-watering, his strong, tanned back flexing with each swish of the blade. Every glimpse gave Jenna fresh impetus to continue with her operation.
Her idea for the birthday present was to keep it simple. No bells, no whistles – but some pretty extravagant packaging. She was going to give him herself. After the hurly-burly of the private view, and Jason’s wobble of self-doubt once Deano had reappeared on the scene, it seemed absolutely the right thing to do. Something that wouldn’t make him frown over more money spent on him, but would make him see how sincerely and truly she believed in their future.
First of all, she had found his favourite underwear set – the black strappy number they had bought (and tested) in the chic Mayfair sex boutique on their recent London trip. Putting it on brought back a flood of wicked memories. Jason stroking her nipples as they protruded from the quarter-cup bra. Jason with his hand down the shiny black knickers. Jason spanking her over the carefully placed straps that cut across her rear cheeks, creating a canvas of red and black so gorgeous it had to be photographed.
She had gawped at her reflection, then smiled at the thought that, not so long ago, she hadn’t even realised lingerie like this existed. Victoria’s Secret had been as far as she had gone with Deano. Sexy, yes, but nothing that would shock your aunt.
She twirled slowly, examining her curves, her new fuller figure. Jason was right. A little bit more flesh flattered her, gave her an air of sensual abandon she hadn’t had in her days as a hard-bodied gym bunny. Not that she could be accused of being overweight at all. The difference was too subtle for anyone but her and her lover to notice.
And besides, what if she did put on a bit of weight? It wasn’t the apocalyptic disaster she had used to think it. People came in different body types; it was time she accepted it. She cringed at the memory of all the boot-camp fitness regimes she had dictated to her new clients. The memory of one young girl, hospitalised for anorexia after a few months of this, came back and made her heart freeze. Your fault.
But that girl was OK now, although she would never go back into A-list show-business. Working on cruise liners, last she’d heard. Jenna breathed again. All that was over. Never again.
Back to her sinfully decadent silhouette in the mirror. She posed and preened, sticking out her bottom, spreading her legs, cupping her breasts, trying to see herself as Jason saw her. No longer the uptight over-styled icon but a flesh-and-blood woman with strong appetites and exotic desires.
The thought of the exotic desires made her look over to the bed, where she had laid out the leather paddle Jason had designed and made himself at the London warehouse of an expert spanking toy manufacturer. Who would have imagined that she’d enjoy being used like that, only a year ago? And yet now she craved Jason’s dominance, fantasising about it in the hours they were apart, begging for it when they were together. It was a whole new part of herself, unlocked at the age of thirty-five.
‘Take me, I’m yours,’ she muttered, pouting at the mirror, then running hands through her hair until it was sexily mussed.
Speaking of giving herself … She picked up the length of wide red ribbon she had bought in Hobbycraft that morning and began to wrap it, carefully, not too tightly, in a criss-crossing pattern up her legs. She wound it around her lower hips, hiding those parts of her Jason most liked to play with, then crossed her stomach and wrapped her breasts. She tied it neatly around her neck to finish, then stuck on a huge red rosette, just over her bottom cheeks.
It rustled as she moved, and the feeling of being tied in ribbon was so exciting she wanted to throw herself on the bed and put her hand between her legs.
But she held back. This was for Jason, not for her. She was going to have to wait.
She experimented with the feeling, standing in front of the mirror, trying to bend and stretch, enjoying each little restriction when it came.
Now, could she manage to move, slowly, carefully, swishing with each micro-step, over to the big window? Yes.
She brought herself into the centre of the frame and stood, her untied arms resting on the walls either side, imagining what a picture she’d make when Jason eventually turned and looked up.
If he ever did.
He seemed to work on for ages and ages, his attention given over to clearing the tangles and thickets from the far end of the garden, piling the wheelbarrow high.
But eventually, the wheelbarrow was full and he straightened up, passed the back of his hand across his brow and stood for a moment, still with his back to her, catching his breath.
She watched his strong shoulders rise and fall, saw the sheen of sweat glisten on his golden-brown back, looked longingly at the leather belt cinching his rough jeans to his hips, pulling the denim taut over a mouth-watering backside.
Come on.
Finally, he turned.
His gaze was aimed lower, though, at the bonfire he’d been building. Jenna had to wait again, in an agony of nerves and lust, while Jason wheeled the debris over and threw it onto the pyre.
He looked at his watch.
Yes. He’d be thinking it was time for a lunch break.
/> And bingo! His eyes rose to the bedroom window, knowing that Jenna was in there, because she’d told him she would be.
She bit her lip, working hard at not breaking into a broad grin. That expression, dawning on his face, though, was hard to resist.
First a quick upwards glance, then a narrowing of eyes and a hand at his forehead to ward off the sun’s glare. Slowly, wonderfully slowly, his lips twitched upwards, the smile widening to his cheekbones, then revealing his bright teeth in a visible laugh. His eyes flashed through all the stages from unfocused, through amused, to frankly lustful in the space of about a second.
He pointed a warning finger at her, making her hug herself with excitement, then hared off towards the kitchen door. He stopped en route to sluice himself under the garden tap. Jenna cringed at the thought of how cold the water must be, but obviously Jason wasn’t planning to waste any time in the shower. Not when he could be ripping off the wrapping from his present.
She turned in the window frame and positioned herself on the sill, perching right at the edge in order not to disarrange her cheeky rosette. She put her hands on the sill on either side of her, anchoring herself in position in case she succumbed to a natural inclination to slide off on to the floor. Her legs were weak enough, regardless of their being encased in red ribbon.
Within seconds, Jason’s pounding tread could be heard on the staircase, then on the uncarpeted landing. He had obviously pulled off the heavy work boots he had been wearing, or the floor would be shuddering. The thud of his bare feet was loud enough.
The door crashed open, causing Jenna to squeak despite her expectation of this happening, and there he stood, hands on the upper frame, leaning into the room with the eyes of a feral creature in heat.
‘What. The. Fuck,’ he growled, ‘are you trying to do to me, woman?’
‘Just trying to wish you a happy birthday,’ said Jenna, a demure giggle escaping from the lips she was trying so hard to keep seductively sculpted.
‘Oh yeah?’ He took a stride into the room and stood with his arms folded. ‘And this is my present, is it?’
‘If you like.’ Jenna made a heroic effort to bring every ounce of inner vamp she possessed to the party. ‘And I can’t wait to blow out your candle.’
That was enough for Jason, it seemed.
‘Get over here,’ he commanded, holding out a hand as she began a tottering progress towards him.
He seized her as soon as she was within range and twisted her in his grip so that he was able to pat her bottom underneath the rosette.
‘I like this,’ he said, planting fingers in it so it rustled. ‘Nicely placed. Does it mean anything?’
‘Does it …?’
‘I mean, where you’ve put it. Square on your arse. Is that a message for me?’
She quivered, clenching her cheeks.
‘Well, we have agreed …’
He chuckled, stroking the lower slopes where they met her thighs.
‘It’s all right, babe. I’m saving that for tonight. My after-dinner treat.’
‘OK. If you’re sure.’
‘I’m sure. I want to give you something to think about over dinner, while my mum’s bending your ear at ninety miles per hour. I want you to have it on your mind, all the way through, that what you’re sitting on is going to be getting it. I want you all distracted and keyed up, knowing what’s coming to you. Do you think you will be?’
He was bending now, whispering the words into Jenna’s ear.
She nodded, her throat tight. God, he was evil. So bloody gorgeously evil.
‘Good.’ He patted her bottom again, proprietorially. ‘’Cos this is going to be all mine, babe. But for now …’
He propelled her swiftly so that she faced him again, his fingers tight around her upper arm.
‘Now, where does this end … ah yeah. I get it. Around your neck. Right.’
He began to loosen the fastening, gently, without rushing.
‘Do you know what would look good on you?’ he said as he worked. ‘A collar. Around this gorgeous neck of yours. Would you like that? Something to show the world that you’re mine?’
‘Not like a dog collar?’ Jenna grimaced.
‘Same principle,’ said Jason. ‘Owner and pet. But nicer. Prettier. You can get some dead classy ones.’
‘Are you saying I’m your bitch?’ Jenna raised provocative eyes to her lover.
‘Hey, if the cap fits,’ said Jason with a filthy smile. ‘Or the collar. Or whatever.’ He let the ribbon drop from her neck and lowered his lips to the uncovered skin, making sure her breasts were still restrained by the bunch of fabric held high in his fist.
‘Oh,’ breathed Jenna, shutting her eyes and letting the sensation rule over her.
‘’Cos you are, aren’t you?’ he whispered between kisses. ‘All mine.’
‘Yes,’ she agreed in a shuddering breath.
He eased his grip on the ribbon so that it slackened over her nipples, then fell to reveal her breasts in the quarter-cup bra he loved so much.
‘Oh yes,’ he muttered, his hands busy on the bared mounds, joined very quickly by his mouth and tongue. ‘This’ll do. Better than Alton Towers.’
A high laugh caught in Jenna’s throat at the incongruous remark, but it soon died when she saw just how serious Jason was in his need to have and take and possess her to the fullest possible extent. He squeezed and ground her breasts together, pinching and sucking at her nipples until she cried out with delirious need.
‘Feeling hot?’ he asked, his voice rough as sandpaper. ‘I can help with that.’
He pulled hard at the rest of the ribbon until it fell from her hips and uncoiled itself around her legs. She was mashed tight against him, smelling the residue of sweat and sun lotion that the garden tap had failed to completely remove, and also the mingling traces of male desire, hot and sharp in her nostrils.
His mouth crushed hers and she opened her lips to the possessive force of his tongue. Now that her legs were free, she could lift a knee and rub it up his damp jeans, pushing her mound into the heavy denim.
His hands landed naturally upon her bum cheeks, squeezing them under the rosette, which was now all that remained of her fancy packaging, bar the barely there lingerie.
He removed his tongue from her throat and spoke into her ear.
‘You’re keeping that rosette on for the rest of the day,’ he said. ‘To remind you of what you’ve got coming. It’s the last little bit of birthday unwrapping for me.’
‘I can’t wear it to dinner! Your mum’ll be there.’
‘Tough. You’ll have to think of something, won’t you?’
‘I’m not sure it’ll stay on,’ she confessed. ‘It’s just attached by an adhesive strip. It’s meant to go on wrapping paper, not skin. It’ll peel off in a little while.’
He reached up and pulled it off in one motion. Jenna winced a little at the sensation of sticking plaster being removed, feeling a twinge of afterburn on the patch of skin where it had been. Jason threw it on the floor and stroked her bottom in its rude web of elastic straps.
‘We’ll have to think of something else then, won’t we?’ he said. ‘Leave it with me. In the meantime, I’ve got other presents to think about. Get on your knees.’
Jenna dropped to the floor without hesitation, watching him from beneath lowered lids as he dragged a low dressing-table chair in front of her. It was upholstered and skirted in a damask print, and looked like just about the last chair a man like Jason would ever sit on, with his dusty jeans and bronzed bare chest.
But he slunk his way out of the jeans, not without some difficulty, because they had got wet under the garden tap, revealing himself to be naked underneath.
‘No pants,’ Jenna couldn’t help observing.
‘Hot, innit? And I was only gardening, not meeting the Queen. Anyway, that’s enough talk from you. I want your mouth kept busy in another way now.’
He sat down abruptly, and he didn’t need to give Je
nna any more clues as to his intentions for her.
‘Happy birthday, Mr President,’ she said, in a breathy imitation of Marilyn Monroe, before bending her head and giving the tip of Jason’s cock a lascivious lick.
He put a hand on the crown of her head, pushing it downwards.
She followed his cue and let his full, thickening length slide into her eager mouth.
As she sucked and lapped, he played with her breasts and occasionally spoke, in a slow, thick, drugged-sounding voice.
‘All right then,’ he said, as she let the tip of her tongue travel slowly up the underside of his shaft. ‘No rosette. But you don’t get away that easily.’
He exhaled a wobbly breath.
‘This afternoon you’re going to that shop I sent you to before. Remember it?’
Jenna did her best to nod, Jason’s cock sliding around in her mouth. Of course she remembered it. The hot embarrassment of walking through the door. The flaring up of her cheeks as she flipped through racks of cheap, tarty underwear. The lowering of her eyes as she placed her purchases on the counter.
‘Good. ’Cos you’re going there again. And this time you’re going to buy a butt plug.’
She made an inarticulate noise of alarm, almost dropping Jason from her mouth as she glared upwards.
‘No, I mean it. But don’t worry. Not a big one. I don’t want you getting stretched back there. That’s going to be my job.’
She continued to stare, Jason’s prick resting on her lower lip.
He patted her cheek.
‘Get back to work, love. You can listen and suck at the same time, can’t you?’
She closed her mouth and sucked again, rather angrily, as if attempting to extract all the flavour from an ice pop.
‘That’s nice,’ he said, after a pause to let his eyes widen and roll back with pleasure. ‘Keep it up.’
She kept it up, her stomach in knots at the thought of going back to That Shop.
Gasping slightly, Jason continued. ‘Just the smallest plug they’ve got,’ he said. ‘Something that slips in nice and easy, but doesn’t let you forget it’s there. That’s what you’re wearing tonight, babe. That’s what you’ll be doing when you dress for dinner. And I won’t be able to think about anything else … fuck.’
Diamonds Forever Page 5