Capture

by Flora Dain

  And just as he’s starting to relax a little I slip in the little toy. As it slots into place I see his jaw clench. Veins in his neck stand out like rods and the muscles in his arms bulge as he strains against the cuffs but I keep up my massage, more and more excited by my new power – the power to please.

  ‘Relax,’ I say, again and again. ‘You wanted me to be safe? Safe sex just got a whole lot safer.’

  He’s at my mercy, sex on a plate. Is this how women like Freda get off? The thrill of control?

  It’s certainly working for me. I feel my belly clench with need at his helpless arousal, awaiting my touch for any chance of release. Hunger makes me bold. I tweak and pinch. I run my fingernails over his massive, heaving chest, feeling a spurt of excitement at his sharp intake of breath. I take his sac in my mouth, thrilled as his thighs clench.

  ‘Hey. You’re building up trouble for yourself.’ His low tone is thick with menace. It should spell a warning but I’m too hyper to listen.

  Instead I grin and drop a light kiss on his rigid, sweat-streaked cheek. ‘Lighten up. Lie back and enjoy.’

  He watches tight-lipped as I fondle and tease, watching for that telltale ripple of skin or muscle to warn me when to speed up and when to go slow. Even a body as toned as his has places that react when I touch and twitch when I tease. This is such fun …

  I take his bulging, massive cock in my mouth for a few moments to get it really wet, feeling desire wash over me as he gasps. I lower myself onto it gently for a few moments, riding him a couple of times purely for my own pleasure, relishing the hot, hard heat surging up inside me, and then I ease myself off and slide down his body.

  I can tell he’s very close now so I crouch between his legs, jerking his eyes open with a tweak on each of his nipples. As the wicked little toy works its magic I hold his gaze as I crush his rigid, burning cock between my breasts and move up and down his column, making sure he can see my tight, pale globes closing round his purplish, straining length.

  And now, finally, I conquer him. I feel him stiffen, arch and then he comes, the creamy spurts foaming over my bulging breasts as he attains his climax. The sight of him as helpless as this, overcome with such pleasure, is unbearably touching, his long, shuddering sighs as sweet as any opera.

  Slowly his breathing steadies. It takes a while. I watch, entranced, and dash my tears away with the back of my hand as his eyes snap open and he grins.

  ‘Undo these things, dammit. You’ll be the death of me.’

  And when I finally unfasten the cuffs and remove the thing, he curves over me, pushes me down and kisses me long and hard. When he pulls away the expression in his eyes is hard to fathom but he runs a finger down my cheek.

  ‘You are in so much trouble,’ he murmurs. ‘I did warn you. I’ll deal with you later. For now, let’s eat.’

  * * *

  Our meal is delicious. The chef’s prepared a real banquet. The maids serve up dish after dish of carefully prepared dainties. Darnley pours champagne.

  ‘It’s by way of a celebration,’ he says quietly. ‘I cut short my trip because my contracts are all back on side now the police are off my back. We’re all set.’

  But he’s still not looking at me. He’s leaving something out.

  I put down my fork. ‘Apart from?’

  He glances up with a faint grimace. ‘Still no wedding, Ella. Not until –’ he breaks off and takes a long swig of his wine. ‘Not until we’ve straightened out the small matter of our intruder.’

  ‘Why? Is it that important?’

  He eyes me over the rim of his glass. ‘I’m beginning to think so, yes.’

  Has he guessed something?

  As we finish our meal and rise from the table he takes my hand in his but I hesitate. ‘Are you in the mood now? Or shall I …’ I tail off as his face contracts.

  ‘Or – what, Ella? You have other plans?’ His steady look makes me swallow.

  ‘It’s just – you seem so weird.’

  ‘I do? Maybe I’ve got things on my mind. Maybe I’m asking myself why my fiancée suddenly starts buying sex toys without telling me.’

  All at once he pulls me close and finds my mouth. By the time we reach our rooms, heat crackles between us. He folds me into his arms, already slipping my gown off my shoulders as he slams the door. ‘You asked for this. Dammit, Ella, I’ve tried to play fair. I told you we should stay apart. If you won’t listen, you won’t.’

  I grin. ‘What’s this? Revenge?’

  ‘You know what it is, dammit.’ He growls low in his throat as he pulls me down onto the bed.

  I wind my limbs around him to get closer, kissing every part of him I can reach, pulling him tight. ‘What? I’m still not safe? I always feel safe with you. Even like this. Especially like this.’

  But he’s frowning now. He kneels up over me, his eyes burning. ‘That’s not what I mean. What you make me feel scares me. You scare me.’

  He leans down to kiss me again, the touch of his lips live as a wire, his erection stirring against my thigh, stiffening into hot, swelling gristle as it presses against me. ‘It’s just – with you I can never tell –’ He breaks off, his expression troubled.

  I smile as I touch his face. ‘What can’t you tell?’ My soft whisper makes him frown.

  He swallows. ‘How far I’ll go.’

  I see a flicker of pain cross his face. Do I take his iron discipline for granted? I found control exciting too. But in minutes even I got carried away.

  Maybe what he does is harder than I thought.

  Maybe I’m asking too much of him.

  I’m still wondering about this when he finds my mouth. In seconds he’s pinned my wrists – not with metal this time, but in a fierce, painful grip as his fingers close over me. He slides down my body, dropping hot, scorching kisses along the way.

  ‘You enjoyed that, your first taste of power play?’ He looks up at me with a gleam, his low murmur making me shiver as his lips brush my sex. He folds his hand around my breast and squeezes. ‘Good. I hope you made the most of it. Because now you’re going to taste the real thing.’

  I cry out as he tweaks my nipple and then with sharp, urgent moves of his knee he pushes my thighs open and lowers his head to feast. He seizes both my nipples and holds tight, his fingers and thumbs crueller than clamps.

  Soon I’m twitching, my nipples numb, as I writhe under his busy tongue. And he’s right – now I do taste the real thing. Excitement rockets through me at his angry touch. The sensation flashing all over my body from my tormented breasts heightens every move he makes, every touch of his tongue and every whisper of his breath on my skin.

  I writhe and buck in his grip and finally I come, time after time.

  He takes his revenge without mercy, making me yearn, making me ache. I yield to him with moans and whimpers and yells, letting pleasure crash over me again and again, his rhythm steady and relentless, his passion building as he works, until he plunges inside and takes his fill.

  * * *

  ‘I don’t believe it. Check again.’

  I drag myself awake. Sleep came like honey. Now it hangs over me like a cloud. I haul myself close to wakefulness as I hear him hiss into the phone.

  ‘I don’t care how many times you’ve checked, dammit. Do it again.’

  I sigh and turn over. Just business. Any minute now he’ll get back into bed, wind his legs around me and fold me in his arms …

  ‘Freda?’

  Shit. Why’s he calling her? I open my eyes, fully awake now. It’s barely dawn. The room is grey and forbidding. In the far corner a sidelight is on. Darnley’s sprawled on a chair, his long legs stretched before him as he takes the call.

  ‘Is he back yet?’ After a pause he frowns. ‘Keep checking. And don’t panic. He’ll turn up.’ He cuts the call and turns to me. ‘You awake? You can go back to sleep if you like, but I have to go. Chet Newson’s missing.’

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  I wake later, in a shaft of sunshin
e. It feels late, after nine. I’m not at work this morning, but instantly I’m uneasy.

  Things are quiet. Too quiet.

  No Darnley. When I ask where he is I meet blank looks.

  Still no news on Chet. More blank looks.

  As I finish my cereal Lydia calls.

  ‘You don’t know where Darnley is? Why not? He’s on business?’ She sighs. ‘So when’s the wedding? We have to know soon.’

  ‘Not sure yet.’ I try for upbeat. I leave out the detail – like it’s cancelled. She’ll know soon enough.

  Mid-morning I’m deep into some lesson prep when I hear a commotion. Doors open and slam. I hear motorcycles.

  Outside I find a gathering up on the road to the highway. Freda’s astride a powerful machine, Syra on pillion. As Freda parks the bike Syra leaps off and runs over to another machine drawn up by the side of the road. It’s filthy, splashed with mud and sand. The rider climbs off and slowly removes his helmet.

  Security men instantly surround him. It’s Chet Newson, his face stained with tears.

  Syra seizes his arm. ‘Where ya bin, Chet? Say sumpn’.’

  He looks at her wildly and then stares over her shoulder at someone behind us, emerging from the house.

  Darnley pushes past us and towers over him. ‘What do you think you’re doing, Chet, scaring your sister like that? After all she’s done for you?’

  Chet gapes up at him like a scared rabbit, and then looks back at Syra, his eyes bewildered. ‘T warn’t on purpose, Syra. It was the troll. He tol’ me to come. He tol’ me to take one of the bikes and come right over here. I bin here a while. I bin hidin’. He tol’ me to. The troll in the cave.’ He looks wildly round, fixes his gaze on me and takes a step towards me.

  The men instantly seize him, but Freda steps in and waves them away.

  ‘Come on now, Chet. There’s no such thing as a troll. Tell us why you took off.’

  But Chet’s still staring at me. He dashes away another tear. ‘She knows. Mz Dean knows. She knows him. I see her talkin’ to him. Ain’t that right, Mz Dean? The troll in the cave? You know him. I seen you.’

  Slowly, like I’m in a bad dream, I stare at Darnley. His expression stays blank.

  ‘You?’ I mouth the word but nothing comes out. Sickened, I turn away and walk quickly back into the house.

  ‘Ella? Wait up.’ Darnley calls after me but I ignore him. He’s the troll? And I thought he was joking … but all the time he wanted us to be seen?

  I feel a wave of hot shame that quickly turns to fury. Kissing me out in the boat is one thing. But this …

  How could he?

  As I go I can hear Chet being comforted by his sister and Darnley dismissing the men. I close my ears and race upstairs. I get as far as my dressing room and stop short, walk slowly back and stare inside.

  My clothes are all over the room. Every last item of clothing – all my lingerie, my tops, jackets, evening gowns – even jewellery and shoes – is littering every surface, some hanging off picture frames and even draped over the top corner of the ornate frame of the mirror.

  A huge bowl of roses has been emptied all over the mess, broken flowers and stray petals scattered everywhere.

  ‘Ella? What the …’ Darnley’s come up behind me. Slowly he starts to frown.

  ‘Maybe I do these things without knowing …’

  I spin round to face him. ‘This has to be Chet. He pretty well admitted it. So is somebody finally going to make him stop this?’ My temper’s rising now. ‘I’m sick of this. The lipstick, the car, the slashed picture – somebody wants to scare me. And you just stand by and do nothing about it.’ I narrow my eyes. ‘That is, when you’re not doing things to me in full view of other people. Unless …’ I tail off. I’m still angry, but all at once I’m scared.

  I have to ask … ‘Was this you, Darnley?’

  I see his jaw clench. ‘You seriously expect me to answer that?’

  ‘Only last night you said –’

  ‘That it could be me?’ His eyes narrow. ‘We both know what I said, Ella. And now we both know the truth.’

  I stare at him, lost. ‘We do?’ And all at once I see he’s angry too.

  I lick my lips. ‘What did Chet mean, I know the troll? He means you? That day in the cave when we … he was watching?’

  I stare round at my ruined clothes with a shudder. ‘But the shredded gown, the slashed picture – that was done with a knife.’ I stare at him, panic rising. ‘If I’d been in here a few minutes sooner maybe I’d be lying here in a crumpled heap too. My gowns would be soaked with something stronger than water from the flowers – fresh blood, my blood …’

  But he’s not listening. He’s frowning at something on the floor.

  I clap a hand to my mouth at a sudden wave of nausea and close my eyes for a moment. As I open them Darnley’s straightening up, slipping something into his pocket.

  But my mind’s racing. Could this really be him? After all this time, is he truly crazy? He’s still not denied it …

  All at once his low voice slices into the silence. ‘So tell me about Mitchell.’

  ‘Ryan?’ I catch my breath. Just get your hands on those photos. He’s only got to mail them. And then I can explain everything. ‘There’s nothing to tell.’

  Keep your eyes on the prize. It has to be worth it.

  Darnley’s eyes lock on mine, cold as steel. ‘That so?’

  For a long moment he holds my gaze and then he holds out his hand. ‘It’s time I showed you something.’

  He holds my hand in a tight grip as he leads me down through the house. I trail behind, stunned. Does he suspect me?

  Groups of staff are still dotted about. Chet and Syra are down by the entrance, talking quietly to Freda. Chet’s with them, still snivelling softly.

  Freda glances up as we walk past. ‘I’m done here. OK if I get back over to the complex?’

  Darnley ignores her. He keeps going, dragging me after him. She stares after us both, her eyes wide. ‘Fine. That’ll be a yes, then. So long, folks. Enjoy the rest of your day.’

  Meanwhile we’re heading downstairs. As we reach the control room I see the door is partly open and all the lights are on. But instead of only two people, the room seems to be full of his men.

  Even Bullen is here.

  As we walk in they range silently along the walls. Bullen takes up a position near the door somewhere behind us. Only now does Darnley let go of me. Without a backward glance he walks across the room to join his men and turns to face me, his arms folded.

  I move forward to join him, but instantly he holds up a hand and stops me in my tracks.

  ‘That’s far enough. Stay where you are.’

  I freeze. I know all these people by sight. I smile at them every day. Now no one’s smiling. All eyes are fixed on me.

  I lick my lips. ‘What’s going on?’

  Around us the silence deepens. All at once he flicks a remote.

  On the large screen on the far wall a video flickers into life. It plays in silence, a montage of film clips, crude and grainy. I glance at it for a moment – and then stiffen. It’s a video of me.

  More precisely, it’s of me – and Ryan. On the beach, talking closely, shaking hands. And then me alone – cleaning lipstick off the mirror in my room, frantically removing a filthy scrawl from inside my windscreen, crouching under a bench down in the control room scanning a small screen with codes scrolling down it …

  My stomach clenches as nausea washes over me again. As I steady myself Darnley’s deep voice is slicing into the silence, his voice low, his tone calm. But what he’s saying cuts like a knife.

  ‘The security system here is pretty basic. Entry is allowed only with coded authorisation derived from a fingerprint or facial-recognition source. It can be tailored to each individual, from us right down to the mailmen. Put simply, certain individuals – you, me, the resident staff, known visitors – can come and go, touch any surfaces without triggering alarms. Even better,
the sensors are programmed to ignore our ID signatures on the surveillance footage, so our images never even appear, speeding up emergency scans for outsiders and ensuring our own personal privacy. Bottom line, an intruder’s impossible. The alarms would instantly react.’

  He pauses, his gaze stony. ‘When we started to suspect foul play, the last person I thought of was you. But I knew it had to be somebody here. After eliminating everybody else, I thought it must be me. Maybe, at long last, this was it. I was going crazy. But this week the guys decided to investigate some slight irregularities in the transmission. They ran a reverse encryption on some of the film and they came up with this.’

  He jerks his head towards the silent video still playing out on the screen before me. I glance away from it, sickened anew as it starts up again.

  ‘At first I refused to listen. Then I flatly refused to look at it. I kept telling them to re-check. It was impossible. It couldn’t be true. It must be a bug in the system. But early this morning, when Freda called about Chet, I had no choice. I had to see it for myself in case it was linked to him.’

  I open my mouth to speak but nothing comes out.

  His eyes narrow. ‘Forget the pretty excuses. All I know is what I see. You and Mitchell are in this together. You’re deliberately trying to make me think I’m insane. He staged the break-ins, using you for his dirty work once he’d left the country. You even let me get as far as considering a worldwide product recall to check for bugs. That would have meant commercial disaster.’

  My voice comes at last. ‘Me? You can’t accuse me of all this. He simply asked for my help. He just wanted me to check part of a line of code. I know nothing about electronics.’

  ‘Maybe not. But he does. You gave him the very line that tells the system to ignore you.’

  ‘Only part of it, some random figures –’

  ‘You gave him enough. He guessed the signature I’d use.’

  I frown, trying to recall the code. ‘Wait … 8A? He knew you’d use that?’

  ‘Hex. 8/10, in regular number. It’s a date,’ he says softly. ‘Tenth August. Mean anything?’