by Flora Dain
‘Taste it, right at the end.’ His low murmur fell somewhere between a purr and a threat. Instant desire pulsed through me. I reached out to tease him with my lips, tasting earth and salt and Darnley in one heady mix. At the same moment he reached down to my still throbbing gap.
‘Open up. We’re not done. Take me fully.’
His fingers invaded again, gently probing all my tender, swollen places and sparking more flames as his intimate, persistent caresses found my money-spot. The angle was awkward but his low voice worked on me like a drug. He pressed harder, easing the pressure now and then to give my swollen folds time to breathe, then caressing again, one finger slipping deep into me and finding a place just inside that I’d no idea was so sensitive. He squeezed gently with his whole hand and I cried out as I convulsed again, another climax rippling through me like the sea.
I glanced up to see if he’d noticed but that, too, was a mistake.
He was keeping count.
His brief, triumphant grin warned me my order was being fulfilled to the letter and I faced yet another trial of pleasure.
‘Now get up on your hands and knees again. This time we’ll treat each other.’
He sounded amused as he edged me into position for my final treat. And now I felt the full force of his hunger as he lay below me, feasting on my still pulsing riches, while his gleaming, purplish beast jutted into my face for its quid pro quo.
I obliged eagerly, hungry for him, muscles rippling with need as his busy tongue searched out my still tingling places and teased me to my final surrender. And when we finally came it was at almost the same instant.
I hung over him, spent and content, feeling him soften slowly, just as I was pulsing with happy spasms, fading away into a warm glow, until he slid out from under me, gathered me in his arms and folded me up in sleep.
He wakes later and we start over. This time we take it slow, real slow, and my orgasms are gentle and frequent while he takes his time and loses himself in my pleasure.
As a final reward I have to lean over him and let him taste me, his tongue eager, his hunger firing yet another massive climax just as I thought I was sated and replete. To ensure my focus he barks out short, sharp commands as he does it, making me pose with my hands high over my head so he can enjoy the view.
And to my amazement it works, the harsh instructions slicing into my lazy arousal like cheesewire, making me ache, making me strain – and making me hotter than hot.
Wolfe Time just gets better.
* * *
The beach is a different place this morning, light and sunny. No seaweed draped on my boat today, but the tide is almost at its highest point. And right on cue I hear it, a low, juddering boom. The sound was terrifying in the fog. Now the sun’s out and the light dances off the rippling blue water of Darnley’s bay, but somehow the noise is just as spooky. It sounds like the hollow groan of some ailing giant.
I haul my boat down to the water, slip the painter over a rock, stow my things and a powerful torch safely out of reach of the splashing wavelets and start the engine.
It fires first time and I set off round the bay. I find it quickly, a low cave right on the waterline under the cliff overhang. It looks exciting and mysterious, the roof low over the rollers that surge inside. As I cut the engine to edge into it I hear the boom again, deafening in here.
It could be the waves. I edge along the rough rock wall and flash the torch. The waves are pounding at the far end, underneath a low ridge. As I look up a movement catches my eye and I feel my heart race. A seal? I’ve heard there are some around here, but I’ve yet to see one.
I flash the torch again but there’s nothing there. Did I imagine it? Was it just a reflection off the water? Patches of light dance all over the walls as sunlight streaming in at the mouth of the cave bounces off the wavelets I’m stirring up. It’s definitely creepy in here …
‘Hello? Anybody there?’ My voice echoes horribly all around me, drowned by another deep, hollow boom.
The cave troll, whatever or wherever he is, must be having a ball. But now I’m puzzled. The torch shows nothing but bare rock walls – no seals, no movement other than the constant waves and the light reflecting off them across the ragged seaweed fronds and the high, towering cleft that makes up the ceiling.
There’s nowhere to tie up so finally I head back round the headland to the beach to take stock. Soon it will be lunchtime, and Darnley will arrive. I may even persuade him to come out and hunt some troll with me.
As I nose the little boat into the small cove I’m careful to avoid the jagged rocks at the edges of the beach. When I finally hit the shingle I reach for my small bottle of water and drink deep, my mind still busy.
Why’s Chet so scared? Scared enough to go to all the trouble to ride over and tell me …
At that moment I glance up for the first time since I landed and I stand very still. My trainers dig deep into the shingle as the waves just fail to reach me, their reach lower with each thrust of the turning tide.
I’m staring at a pair of leather-clad legs. They’re propping up their owner as he leans back on a rock, his upper part just out of sight.
I’ve got company.
There’s no such thing as trolls …
I feel tiny hairs rise all over my back as the legs straighten up and their owner appears from behind his rock.
‘Hi, El. Long time no see.’
It’s worse than a troll. Far worse.
It’s Ryan Mitchell, my ex.
Weirdly, now also Freda’s ex. He screwed us both, in both senses, till we got wise to him. Then back in the summer he very nearly screwed my chances with Darnley.
He’s the last person I thought I’d see here.
He’s the last person I ever wanted to see again.
CHAPTER SEVEN
‘You don’t look too pleased to see me, El. Easy Street suits you, huh?’
I glare at him. ‘What do you want, Ryan? And be warned, there’s surveillance everywhere out here. If you try anything, Darnley will know. And so will about five hundred other people.’
I should know, I think bitterly.
Ryan puts his head on one side and tries his trademark shy smile. Out here in the sunshine, with his loose fair hair and his easy, weak mouth, it should give him a kind of shallow charm. But for me he long ago lost his appeal, and that was well before his crazy patent scam back in the summer nearly finished things between Darnley and me. He followed through with pap-shots of us at Camp Akela and a mystery photo from Lydia’s past. The family’s still reeling.
‘You must be crazy, coming here.’ I hold his gaze. Does he know how much trouble he caused last year? Darnley was already close to the brink. Ryan’s efforts might have failed but they sure stirred the mix.
To my fury he laughs. ‘Chill, hon. His cameras can’t see us here. We’re in the lee of the cliff. Even Darnley-hot-for-you-fucking-Wolfe can’t penetrate sheer rock. Look El, I need a big favour. This time it’s urgent.’
‘Get lost.’
‘Please, El. I’ve had a bad time lately. Been working in Vegas. It fell through.’
‘What? You double-crossed them too? That sounds dangerous.’
I’m only kidding, but now he looks scared. ‘It was. Still is. In fact I’m on the run.’
I frown. ‘So what do you want from me?’
‘I want to make a fresh start. All I need is one good product to get me back on track. But I really need your help. After this you’ll never see me again, I swear.’
I frown. ‘My help? Why me?’
‘Because you’re the only person I can ask. I’ve got a product ready to launch but I need to know if Wolfe’s already using it. We worked on it together for a while, before …’ He tails off.
‘Before you stole it and tried to pass it off as mine?’ I say sweetly.
‘Whatever.’ He licks his lips. ‘Anyway, my version’s still not out there so maybe he’s shelved it. That means I can use it.’
I g
lare at him. ‘Give me one good reason why I should trust you, after last summer.’
‘I’m desperate, El. That good enough?’ His face contracts.
I see his lip tremble and now I notice he looks thinner, unkempt. For a split second I feel sorry for him. ‘Go on,’ I say coldly.
‘He may be using it in private, like here, say. Testing it pre-launch. In that case I’ll drop it. If not, it’ll get me back on track. Be a whole lot quicker than starting from scratch and I can save a bunch of money on research and development. Please, El. All I need is for you to check a line of machine code for me so I can see if it’s a match. One line, that’s it. Not much to ask, is it?’
I roll my eyes. ‘Why me? Ask him.’
He snorts. ‘What? You crazy? One, he’d turn me down flat. Two, he’d launch it himself. You saw his fancy footwork back in the summer. His company launched an upgrade faster than I could tell you about the original.’
He outlines what he wants me to do, his eyes wild and staring, like he’s unhinged.
I listen patiently. I once shared space with him. If he’s fallen on hard times maybe he’s stressed, while I’m on Easy Street … I look at the trainwreck of my former boyfriend and feel a twinge of guilt. ‘So what’s in it for me?’
‘For you?’ His eyes gleam. ‘Plenty. You know those shots of Lydia they’re all so bugged about? I’ve got them. I’ll give you them. Just get me that sequence.’
I stiffen. All at once this is a very big deal. That contact strip, a vital link to Lydia’s murky past, is one of the Wolfe family’s biggest skeletons and buried in their darkest closet. And he’s used a shot from it already, back in the summer – as a coded threat. He means business.
‘And if I don’t?’
He scowls. ‘I need money real bad and I need it fast. Sorry to press you on this, El, but you’ve got a week, max. After that I’ll send the whole strip to the press. They’ll pay me plenty. Cash on the nail.’
His eyes narrow and now I glimpse the two-timing low-life I finally dumped still lurking below the superficial charm.
But he’s not done. He lowers his voice. ‘And know what? Just for jolly I’ll say they’re of you. And then lover-boy Darnley will have to come right out and deny it. And the only way he can deny it is to tell everybody who’s really in them.’
He grins. ‘Thought nobody else knew, huh? Freda lets rip when she gets carried away.’Specially in her sleep.’
‘You wouldn’t dare.’
‘Wanna bet? Could be fun. Some people, the FBI, say, may even start asking questions. Like, why a set of pics of a former porn star now married to a hotshot lawyer took fifteen years to turn up. Like, how close she and photographer-turned-popcorn-millionaire “Korn” Kraik really were, if he spent so much time with the family. Like, how come “Korn” Kraik was found dead in her garage … you get me?’
My mouth goes dry as he recreates the Wolfe family’s worst-ever nightmare right here on the beach. I lick my lips. ‘OK. What do I have to do?’
* * *
When I walk into the house thirty minutes later, a full ten minutes after Ryan’s powerful motorcycle has roared off into the distance, Darnley walks in. If he passed Ryan on the approach road he says nothing.
Maybe he thought it was a delivery.
Maybe he missed him.
His look burns into me, making my pulses race. Or maybe – I’m simply feeling guilty.
‘Have a good time out there on the high seas? Or is that bright smile simply a natural response to my charms?’
I’m so pleased to see him I wind my arms round his neck and kiss him deep. ‘OK. Your charms. Every time.’
His busy hands are making short work of my skinny jeans and my slim, damp jacket, now wet with sea spray and early-morning mist.
‘Your pretty boat’s already losing its appeal? After all the trouble I took to get it for you? What were you doing all morning?’
I take a deep breath, summon up a bright smile and for the first time ever I start to tell him lies.
If he knows Ryan’s out there he’ll freak. If he freaks, those pictures will be all over the papers in a dozen countries and all the Wolfe family secrets will be out.
All Ryan wants is the chance to go straight.
If I help him, he may even make a go of it.
If he succeeds, we’ll be free of him for good and the Wolfe family can finally bury one of its best-kept secrets – plus I’ll have done somebody a good turn.
Is that so bad? One line, that’s it …
To my shame, the lies bubble up like I’ve lied for years. ‘I was hunting troll. I heard that noise again. I tried to track it down, but …’
But Darnley’s not even listening. He’s peeling away my clothes, loosening fastenings, mussing my hair. ‘You talk too much. And you smell of seaweed. You need a shower. Now.’
The heat in his eyes warns me the term ‘shower’ is used loosely here, and only for the benefit of any servants listening in. His dark glint hints at thrilling possibilities.
In our rooms my clothes are swiftly removed and my hair scraped back into one large, lank bunch. He’s right, I do smell of seaweed. He proceeds to haul me towards the bathroom, making me yell every time he yanks.
‘Whoa. What’s with the caveman thing?’
‘You like that?’ His slow grin hints he does, for sure. ‘I’m making you shout and watching your breasts bounce while you do it. Very fetching. Now get in the shower while I think of some ways to spritz up your bathtime.’
He makes me stand in the tub with my hands behind my head while he turns the faucets on full and tips in some lotions.
‘Now bend over. We have to attend to this –’ he fondles my derrière with a low growl ‘– before we attend to these.’ His hands furl around my breasts, squeezing my nipples between his fingers and thumbs and pulling gently. His gaze darkens as he sees me wince, partly in fun, because the flare of heat that surges through my belly warns me I’m already fiercely aroused, and likely to grow a lot hotter before he’s finished – and partly on purpose, to make me react.
‘Know what? I think we’ll try something new. But you’ve got to keep very quiet and very still while we do it. How about it?’
Now what? His dark look gives me no clues. His roving hand, lingering on my tender places, lightly touching my stiffening nipples, and making its way slowly down to my clenched apex, is doing all the talking. What it’s telling me is that this will be exciting, thrilling and possibly painful.
‘What are you going to do?’ Heat flares as I lean into his touch, firmer now, his fingers forcing their way between my tightly clenched, quivering thighs and flexing me open. The warm spray quickly follows, the stream teasing my soft crevices while his fingers slip into me, slippery with gel, the scent working my senses like wine.
As he reaches my money-spot his lips find mine and our mouths blend in a light, delicate contact of lips and tongue-tips that tingles all through me as he starts deliberately to tease me to satisfaction, pressing and circling without mercy, his cruel grin warning me that modesty is off the table and flinching away forbidden.
‘I’m not washing you until you come.’ His low murmur echoes around me and all at once power crackles between us. ‘And then we’ll have to do it all over again, lower down. A little more thoroughly.’
‘You’ll get wet,’ I whisper.
He eyes me sternly. ‘Will I? In that case you’ll get punished.’
Yikes. My eyes widen. ‘That’s unfair. I want to put my arms round your neck. I want to feel you … dammit, Darnley. You know what I want.’
He smiles again, his hand working harder, his lips still touching mine in soft, tiny brushes. ‘I do know. I know all about what you want to do. Put your hands behind your back. Keep your eyes fixed on mine.’
The effort it costs me to do this is more than repaid. Almost at once I erupt into a spectacular climax, all the more violent for my terrible, lurking feelings of guilt.
I love him, an
d I’ve lied to him. Now I’ve got secrets too.
But my ordeal’s nowhere near over. Now pleasure must be heaped on pleasure as my softening, contented body, limp with orgasm, must yield once more to his firm, controlling touch as he smears the gel all over me and follows with the jet.
‘Now bend over.’ His command is so curt I jerk downwards instantly, expecting the worst, but to my astonishment the harsh slaps I dread never land. Instead his fingers, slippery with gel, and the disturbing swoosh of the warm, gushing jet start work on my most private place of all. I’ve never felt anything like it, cleansing and shaming both at once, the sensation making me grip the bath rail like a limpet.
The feeling is extraordinary. Arousal flares again, softer now but all over me as the warm water surges and soothes, penetrates and inflames. Every ripple of the jet on my wet, shining skin is a new signal. Every caress of his fingers is a new inducement to pull him in. Every time I glance up his dark look warns me he’s holding off from his own fun for some wicked, hidden purpose of his own.
‘Mm, lovely. Now for your treat.’ His low tone sends heat spiralling through me as he holds me firmly by the hips and swivels me round to face the tiled wall.
‘Bend right down and put your hands flat on the wall.’
What follows is so disturbing and so outrageous I clench all over in shocked amazement. My lip aches as I bite down on it to keep from crying out in sheer joy at the flood of feeling that surges through me from the force of his eager, questing tongue. And when he finally hauls my slippery globes wide apart with his thumbs and reaches in deep to touch my burning centre with his tongue tip I erupt again, almost sobbing with the freedom of release and waves of golden pleasure that ripple through me, all the stronger for this being so new and from the effort of keeping silent.
He holds me close, not caring about how wet I am as I collapse in his arms, still quivering with spasms, close to sobbing. ‘You like?’
‘I like,’ I manage. But I lied …
Guilt makes me shiver.
* * *
Later that evening we drive over to Santa Rosa for a pre-course reception for the new intake at the complex. We’re based in a picturesque historic hotel in one of the oldest parts of town.