by Flora Dain
She licks her lips. ‘Well, like Syra said, we’re all behind you. Don’t let it get you down. It’ll blow over.’
He’s holding her gaze, but he’s not smiling. ‘Sure. Let’s hope so. And – thanks.’
She glances from him to me and back again, and when she speaks her voice is a touch lower. ‘So. I’ll leave you to it. See you tomorrow? The new intake might like a visit, now you’re a mega-celeb.’
She turns to me, her look chilly again. ‘You’ve got morning classes this time, Ella. The new intake’s mostly from the military. Ex-Afghanistan. May need some role-play for trauma management. See me before we start and I’ll fill you in.’
I try a smile, but now it’s an effort. ‘Look forward to it. And – thanks, Freda. We appreciated the welcome.’
But as her motorcycle finally roars off towards the highway I feel his gaze sweep over me.
‘Bath?’
I nod, my heart leaping into overdrive.
‘Bed?’ He grins. ‘Not for sleep, obviously.’
He moves up close, touching his lips to my hair, my forehead and all points on my face, tiny brushes of his lips that leave tingles all over my skin. They get stronger the closer he gets to my mouth, and slowly he fastens on me fully, his tongue sweeping my bottom lip in a smooth, purposeful plea for entry.
As I lean into his arms I wind my hands round his neck and into his hair and he clasps me round the waist, trapping me in an embrace so tight I can scarcely breathe.
‘’You’re crushing me,’ I giggle, as happiness bubbles up in some kind of overreaction to the strain of the last few hours.
‘Good. You need to be crushed. And ravaged. And possessed.’ With a low growl he sweeps me up in his arms and makes for the stairs.
Over his shoulder I see one of the maids appear in a doorway, her arms loaded with a glittering tray of coffee and tiny sandwiches.
‘Shall I leave this here, sir?’
‘Anywhere you like,’ he calls, finding my mouth again as he reaches the top step and heads for our room. ‘We’ll be down later.’
* * *
Technically we’re down almost at once as he drops me on the bed and sprawls on top of me, his mouth fused on mine, his hands slipping into my layers with the urgency of the starved.
‘Get some of this stuff off. I want to see you.’ He shifts up on the pillows and rests his head on his hands. ‘And take it slow.’
I arch an eyebrow. ‘I normally do this to music. You want the ostrich feathers, or the whole nipple-tassel thing?’
His eyes narrow to slits. ‘Don’t tempt me, I might. Music? Coming right up.’
He snatches up a remote and all at once we’re surrounded by low, slow jazz, something soft and slinky. I kneel up on the bed and sway a little as I unfasten buttons, loosen zips. As the heat in his eyes intensifies I slip off the bed and pose, stretching my legs and pointing my toes as I swoop down to ease away small frills of lace, slip thin silk straps off my shoulders. With a final pirouette I’m nearly bare, apart from a slender thong and a bra in flimsy lace that cost far more than it should.
‘Now bend over.’ His low murmur sends tremors through me as he sheds his slim leather jacket and walks over to stand thrillingly over me, his legs apart, designer jeans brushing suggestively against the backs of my legs. I feel his hands caress my full, rounded bottom, his touch at first soothing and then arousing as he searches deep and teases me with his fingertips.
‘Peaches and cream? I think so. Ready?’
I shiver, aching already as he keeps up the pressure, his touch making me wild. Now he slides his hands down my poised, quivering thighs, stroking down the outsides of both and then reaching deep beneath to caress the inside, his fingers lingering in my deepest places, making me shudder.
‘Hey, easy. Keep still, or you’ll get into trouble. Or is that what you want?’
I quiver again. ‘What kind of trouble?’
He curves over my back, planting a long row of kisses all down my spine, and then all at once I feel the flat of his hand land a hard, stinging slap on one side of my rump. Before I can cry out it lands again, hard, on the other side.
‘That kind.’
I wriggle as the sting starts to fade, and he slaps me again.
‘Naughty girl. Looks like you’ve another spanking coming up. Now hold still a moment.’
I feel a flutter of air near my still tender backside as he frees himself and slides right in, making me gasp. At the same moment a violent pulse starts to beat deep between my legs, making me quiver all over again.
He leans over and kisses along my spine, blazing a trail to my glowing rump. ‘Mm, the peaches are excellent. Ripe and ready. Cream now, or cream later?’
‘How about both?’ I’m burning up now as he moves gently inside me, impaling me, hard and glowing, filling me up.
‘Greedy girl. You sure?’
‘Sure.’ I’m heady with lust, aching from being bent over so long. ‘And I have to stand up. Is that allowed?’
I jolt as he slaps me again. ‘In a minute. Cream first, then we’ll see.’
With a gloriously long, slow retreat he pulls out of me almost all the way and then plunges again, over and over, speeding up as he reaches round to fondle my swelling, hanging breasts, helpless in his eager palms as his fingers tweak and torment my nipples and his shaft pounds into me from behind.
As he pumps, at last he grips me by the hips, then reaches round once more for my breasts. I press back against his loins for balance, keen to milk every last drop of his precious essence before he pulls out again.
We cling together for long seconds and as promised he raises me upright against him. He winds his arms around my waist and my breasts, pulling me back against him, still impaled on his warm, glowing length, poised to soften but still twitching. I feel his lips hot on the cleft of my neck and my shoulder as he kisses me deep, his breath hot and ragged as he savours his climax.
‘Wow, cream and a half. Jeez, Ella, I needed that. Now we’ll wash. And – I owe you.’
I’m nearly naked and he’s still part dressed, so he makes me fill the bath and do lewd things with the gel in even lewder places while he sheds his clothes slowly, taking his time now he’s relaxed a little.
Finally, as I scowl at him in fake impatience, which is fast becoming real impatience, he lets me peel away the rest of his clothes and kneel in the bathroom to salute his manhood, softened and plump now but still twitching. I bestow some light kisses on it, nervous of getting too eager too soon when he’s still tender.
He raises my head up by the chin and stoops to kiss me again. ‘Hey. You’re very sweet when you do that. Now let’s wash. We’ll try some foam.’
The foam takes a while. He makes me clutch the towel ring high up in the tiles and takes sole charge, skimming me with his hands and massaging the scented gel into suds all over my shivering, shuddering skin. Soon I’m burning up with impatience as he torments my hidden crannies with his fingers and follows up with the jet, his look alone enough to make me shiver as he turns up the heat.
‘Now me. Easy, this time. And take it slow.’
I grin, well aware that he wants me to leave enough for bedtime, so once the suds are gone I kneel and nuzzle deep in his crotch, letting my tongue and my eager lips signal my assent, and after a few slow tastes and a satisfying roll of my breasts over his swelling column he hauls me to my feet, kisses me deep on the mouth and then shuts off the faucet.
‘Now close your eyes.’
I shiver a moment, knowing where this may lead, but he simply wraps me on a vast, fluffy bath towel, warm already from the rail, and after a moment while I hold my breath and guess from the movement at my hips that he’s knotting a towel around himself, he sweeps me up in his arms and carries me back into the bedroom.
I land on the edge of the bed and he splays my thighs, pressing down on my knees so my feet reach the floor.
‘Can I look now?’
‘Nope. Eyes shut.’ For an agon
ising moment I wait, trying not to giggle, and then all at once I stiffen as something cold and snake-like slips along my breasts. ‘What the –’ I shriek as I feel something cold and hard snap on first one nipple and then the other. ‘That hurts.’
‘Hush, you’re perfectly safe. Put your hands underneath your back and keep them there. You can open your eyes now.’
My eyes snap open in a panic and I see the gleam of a slim silver chain coiled on my breastbone, a glinting pool between my breasts. Each nipple is firmly clasped in what looks like a giant paper clip.
‘Nipple clamps,’ he says softly. ‘And now you can close your eyes again while we do something else.’
I feel a wave of alarm but as I poise, quivering on the edge of the bed, I feel his hands gently splay my knees open and his head nuzzle deep between my thighs and now he finds my fresh-washed places, warm and quivering under his tongue, and in moments I plead with him to let me come.
‘You can open your eyes now,’ he murmurs, as he eases away. ‘And now, I think, it’s time for more cream. Yes?’
I nod, breathless, startled by the clanking of the slim length of chain pulling on my nipples as he makes me sit up and straddle his lap. Now his tough thighs support me as the slender chain pulls on my heavy, trapped breasts. I feel it chink between us as the shiny links slither across our naked bellies, evil and metallic.
He narrows his eyes as he guides his jutting shaft downwards and all at once he gives a mighty thrust and slides right up inside. The surge of heat and the column of hard muscle fill my belly as he rams into me, each movement jolting the chain where it coils over my soft curves, weighing down on my tormented nipples and pulling mercilessly on the clamps. Soon my sensitive aureoles are swollen and aching, my nipples numb with arousal and excitement. As he rides to his fill I feel another climax build under this new avalanche of sensations.
‘How’s it feel?’ His dark look demands an answer.
He has to know. The thought burns me up. He has to know what I’m feeling.
‘I can’t tell,’ I manage, between gasps. ‘It’s – I’m nearly there …’
He stills and brushes my lips with his. ‘Ella, I’m going to pull off the clamps. You’re new at this, so I warn you everything comes in a rush. Yell all you want to. Ready?’
I quiver, barely listening, as the flames flare through me, higher and higher …
‘Ella?’
‘Yes, yes,’ I breathe. ‘I’m almost there … almost …’
I feel a yank on the chain that snatches so hard at my breasts I arch my back, all my muscles quivering in response. As I do it sensation explodes inside me in a full-scale eruption. As I open my mouth to scream aloud in joy, pain and all points in between, his fastens on mine and he stifles my sounds, forcing the energy of the moment back into me, so my eruption continues to flower, seconds after it starts.
The riot of flame that engulfs me is so at odds with the tenderness of his lips and his tongue that I feel tears sting and swell behind my eyelids. They squeeze out and flow freely down my cheeks as wave after wave of pleasure courses through me, leaving in its wake a solid, golden glow of orgasm.
He comes seconds after and we cling together, me sobbing helplessly into his shoulder as he laughs softly into my neck.
‘Hey, that was terrific for a first-timer. You’re a natural for the hardware.’
I nestle in his arms, drifting on a sea of content, half sleepy, half emotional. After such a traumatic few days, to think this has ended so well – his workforce behind him to a man, the ghastly Freda with him all the way, even his firebrand brother standing by to support him – surely this will help him heal, help him see that even with his awful past now out in the open, the effect’s nowhere near as bad as he’d feared …
We eat light, talk nonsense and play music. I ask him about opera, he asks me about folk. We almost have fun, for the first time in days. When we finally get to bed he folds me in his arms and slowly and tenderly we make love, like we haven’t in a while, and I come time after time while he laughs softly, kisses my lips and then starts on me again.
We fall asleep somewhere near dawn, and I smile into the dim grey light creeping in the edges of the drapes as down on the beach the sea pounds like a heartbeat and the gulls give their shrill, piercing cries like souls lost on the wind …
* * *
‘Darnley Wolfe? Open up.’ The yelling downstairs is nearly drowned by the banging on the heavy, fortified timber and the instant screech of all the alarms as unscripted fists pound on the front entrance. Even up here we can hear the distant chatter of police radios and the rumble of engines and slamming car doors.
The day’s barely begun, the sun yet to rise. Blue lights flash through the chinks in the drapes.
‘What the fuck?’ Darnley lifts his head with something like a snarl, detaches himself from my clinging, sleepy arms and springs out of bed.
Fully awake now, my stomach rapidly turning to ice, I snatch at the covers just as the door bursts open. I’m still bleary with sleep but Darnley’s already pulled on jeans and a shirt and has a pair of leather loafers in his hand. He looks pale and tense as armed men pour in at the door and line the sides of the room.
‘What’s going on?’ His deep voice rings out but the men look on, impassive, while two of them step forward and seize his arms. Out in the hallway staff crowd forward to look in at the doorway, Bullen among them, whey-faced.
They part briefly to let through a heavily armed agent. ‘Darnley Wolfe? You’re up on charges of sexual harassment and public order offences in connection with the recent sex-related assaults in the San Francisco jurisdiction of the State of California. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you do say may be used in court.’
CHAPTER NINETEEN
‘And in news just in from Sonoma County, security guru Darnley Wolfe, NewsPeak magazine’s latest Man of the Moment, is currently being questioned by state police in connection with the spate of recent sex attacks in the region. Police were alerted by Wolfe’s account of his childhood encounters with popcorn mogul Fletcher “Korn” Kraik, who died fifteen years ago.
‘While questions still remain over Kraik’s death, Wolfe’s personal statement, made prior to a lawsuit planned by the Kraik Foundation back in the fall and since abandoned, is now trending all over social media. Police say key points in Wolfe’s statement, leaked to the Internet in the early hours of yesterday morning, now make him a prime suspect.
‘A spokesperson for the Kraik Foundation refused to comment but says the company takes slurs on its founder very seriously. And now in other news –’
Sickened, I switch off the small TV in the sumptuous kitchen and bolt my cereal while I gaze out at what should be fabulous views of the ocean. Instead I’m staring into a thick blanket of white fog that clings to this coast on late winter mornings. It looks as blank as I feel.
I’m firmly on autopilot. I have to go to work. I have to function like a normal human being.
I still have to breathe.
I do all these things in no particular order as I race round the house getting ready, jab at my phone and recall every syllable of the last instructions he left me.
But no matter how hard I try I can’t wipe the images of our last few moments together before they dragged him away.
He was clearly in command – nothing crazy about his curt instructions, the precision of the dates and times he called up to prove his innocence, the detailed fast-dial he shot at them to cross-check with his PA.
Nobody was listening. Everything else was confusion. As they crowded around him I heard the clank of the cuffs on his wrist and felt a wave of sudden dread.
Please, not handcuffs. Not for him, of all people. Not after all this.
Like they’d pressed a switch, he stopped talking mid-flow and fixed on me, his voice husky. ‘Tell Freda. And call Joel. Tell him what’s happened. Say I’ll be fine. I’m innocent, Ella, I swear. It’s all a mistake. I’ll see you later …’
<
br /> Shivering, I stood gazing after him from the doorway, wrapped only in a hastily snatched sheet, torn from the bed in a panic the second the room began filling with uniformed men. I’d no time even to find my robe.
Down in the entrance hall the staff were gathered in ragged knots, some still in pajamas. They looked on stunned as the police dragged him outside and finally drove him away.
Now, as I start making calls, I finally try to think.
Joel wants to fly out right away. I thank him but resist the urge to accept. Instead I tell him to wait in case Darnley turns up during breakfast. I tell Joel I’ll call again later.
At first Freda sounds offhand. I hastily explain.
‘They’ve what? Shit. Anything I can do?’
The concern in her voice almost makes me like her. ‘Thanks. I’m fine.’ It’s a lie, but I do need something, and badly. ‘Have you talked to Chet?’
His party tricks have to stop. I’ve got enough to deal with.
There’s a pause. When she speaks she sounds wary. ‘I tried, Ella, but he got pretty upset. He’s very confused. I’ll be seeing him with Syra later today. Get back to you straight after.’
She’s hedging, I swear. I frown. I’ve little sympathy for Freda, but she seems worried too. This is a family with secrets … or rather it was. Now some of those secrets are way out in the open, broadcast all over the Internet courtesy of the most secretive family member of them all …
And talking to Freda reminds me of Ryan, our one thing in common. Bizarrely, we share an ex. Somehow I have to get those photos off him. I’m getting edgy now. How long does it take to launch a viable security system? I may need Freda’s help with this. Later, maybe.
When I finally get outside, the fog clinging to the windows translates into a damp, misty morning that seeps through my jacket and forms droplets on my clothes. As I drive to the complex the mist thins the further I get from the coast. Just as the sun breaks through, Billy calls.
With the carphone on speaker we catch up briefly then she signs off. ‘And tell him we’re with him all the way. Eldon’s calling Aaron, too. He should help.’