by Nigel May
Scandalous Lies
An addictive, sexy beach read
Nigel May
Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Chapter 57
Chapter 58
Chapter 59
Chapter 60
Chapter 61
Chapter 62
Chapter 63
Chapter 64
Chapter 65
Chapter 66
Chapter 67
Chapter 68
Chapter 69
Chapter 70
Chapter 71
Chapter 72
Chapter 73
Chapter 74
Chapter 75
Chapter 76
Chapter 77
Chapter 78
Chapter 79
Chapter 80
Chapter 81
Chapter 82
Epilogue
Letter from Nigel
Lovers and Liars
Deadly Obsession
Scandalous Lies
Addicted
Trinity
Also by Nigel May
Acknowledgments
To BGA, with love
Prologue
Hell’s Canyon, California
Daytime
The heat was intense: the sun still burning lava-bright in a one-colour tapestry of the purest idyllic blue despite the late hour of the afternoon; clouds non-existent as a monotonous heat continued to blur the lines where horizon introduced itself to sky. The ground, shouting a natural desire to be quenched by the waters of the heavily depleted river nearby had its request left unanswered as its skin began to crack, an aging process no imminent meteorological surgery was likely to repair. Shriveled plants, those that had survived the brutal heat of one of the fiercest summers on record so far, were only moments from oblivion, a death that would be a welcome one to their moisture-searching veins. Any furry inhabitant that had once scurried across the canyon floor was either long gone in a hunt for food, or showed the idiocy of their tardiness by now remaining as no more than a skeleton. Mother Nature was a bitch and despite the beauty of the canyon and the surrounding area for most of the year, at that precise moment the globe of raging white embellished above the canyon was a dangerous one. A lethal one. Nothing could survive.
Unless, of course, you were currently opening the heavy, curved door of a floor to ceiling fridge freezer combo within the confines of your air-conditioned RV and reaching for a chilled bottle of Moët & Chandon Bi Cuvée Dry Imperial, one of six housed within the confines of the chiller. At a cost of nearly a grand each these were diamond-dipped bubbles, fizz that could extinguish even the most barbarous sunshine. In that case, then survival was easy.
‘A sneaky peek to put you in the mood?’ asked Foster Hampton, pushing his blonde surfer-dude curls – pure Bondi Beach even though it was British blood that ran through his veins – away from his eye line as he reached for the bottle. The whirl of chilled air from within the fridge enveloped his naked skin as he stood, bottle in hand and faced his lover, lying on the double bed on the other side of the road vehicle.
‘You should turn back around and show me that peachy backside of yours again. I was enjoying the view from over here,’ answered Mitzi Bidgood. ‘It’s something I will never tire of. It should be added to every British female tourist’s itinerary for a road trip across America. Mount Rushmore, Dollywood, Golden Gate Bridge and Foster Hampton’s bubble butt. A pink, glowing spectacle of an ass. A wicked wonder of the world. The tourist board could make a fortune in ticket sales. Not that I’m keen to share it with any passing Yank though, to be honest. That rump is mine, all mine. The view from this angle is totally appetising,’ remarked Mitzi, pointing towards the sizable pendulum of meat currently rising to attention between Foster’s legs. ‘And what, to answer your question, makes you think for one orgasmic moment that I am not already in the mood?’
Foster smiled as Mitzi spread her naked legs and dipped the finger she’d been pointing at his cock into the fleshy, wet folds of her pussy. The weapon between Foster’s legs rose to its full length, blood flooding through it with anticipatory desire.
‘Now, pop that cork, pour me something beautiful and bring that body of yours into this bed right away. Mitzi needs some loving after that long drive today. I assume we have all night?’
‘We are going nowhere until dawn,’ Foster replied as he poured the champagne, a flow of frothy bubbles rising to the rim and cascading down the body and stem of the glass and onto the tiles below his feet. ‘I did not drive the entire length of this canyon in this monstrosity to just turn around and head back out again. There aren’t many cars that can make it this far, so we might as well make the most of our surroundings and the fact that we’re the only ones around for miles. Not that I’m going out in this heat. The dashboard thermometer says it’s about 113 degrees Fahrenheit. That’s way too hot, even for a beach-loving boy like me.’
It was true, the road they had taken to reach the secluded spot at the far end of the canyon was impassible by most vehicles. It was only top of the range RVs like the one Foster and his girlfriend of three years, Mitzi, had hired for their month-long USA vacation that were able to cope. The camper was outwardly perfectly equipped to deal with even the rockiest of terrains and its lavish interior was equally custom built for sheer luxury while travelling with its satellite system, surround sound, DVD player, huge TV and wireless internet. On the few occasions they had used the internet during the previous three weeks of their journey it had only been to check emails from their lives back home in the UK. As a professional dancer on one of her home country’s top TV shows, Mitzi needed to find out what the next season of the hot show held for her when she returned in just over a week’s time. The rumour mill was circling with the notion that Mitzi’s celebrity partner for the next six months would be a fellow reality TV star from Surf N Turf, the same show which had seen Foster rise to fame four years ago. The show, about a group of Cornish surfers who also ran their own landscape gardening business, had been a huge hit and Foster had been the breakout star, securing a spot as Mitzi’s dancing partner after only one season on Surf. Viewers loved his relationship with Mitzi, w
hich quickly spilled from the ballroom into the bedroom. Their Barbie and Ken blonde perfection meant that when the two of them lifted the glitter ball trophy aloft at the end of the series, the offers came flooding in for them both. Sponsorship deals, lucrative cruise tours to showcase their dancing prowess and a massive pay increase for Mitzi to stay on the show, saw both their kudos and their bank balances snowball. Foster’s latest project, a documentary in which he would put his gardening skills to the test to turn a downtrodden Cornish council estate into a thriving oasis of green shrubbery and happiness, was due to commence on his return to Britain.
But for now, all that was on the cards for the next few hours was a nerve-tingling, gymnastic symphony of love-making, something their sporty, supple dancer’s bodies allowed them to indulge in as often as possible and in positions most sexual partners could only dream of.
‘I’ll show you what’s hot,’ moaned Mitzi deliriously as she moved her finger faster, her body arching with pleasure as crests of desire snapped through her inner core, spreading from the heat between her legs. ‘Shift that six-pack of yours over here now and ride me like a Texas rodeo athlete.’
Foster didn’t need asking twice. Moving to the bed, he poured the rest of his own glass of champagne into his mouth and handed the other to Mitzi. As she placed the glass to her lips, Foster pushed his face deep into the open layers of joy between her legs. The feel of her wetness thrilled him, encouraging him deeper. It was only once his mouth was completely enveloped by the flower of her pussy that he allowed his lips to open and the icy champagne to flow from his mouth into the sexual cavity of her vagina, swirling around his tongue and Mitzi’s finger as it did so. She let out a squeal of joy and dropped her now virtually empty glass onto the sheets alongside her. The remaining droplets of champagne dribbled onto the material underneath her body.
Foster looped his tongue around Mitzi’s finger and felt an increase in the ferocity of her excitement as she moved it faster and more pressingly inside her. The fusion of the sweet champagne and her own natural womanly flavour washed across Foster’s tongue as her finger rubbed against his taste buds. Mitzi’s breathing became more urgent. Beads of sweat formed on her forehead and she felt them run down her face and weave down between her round, cherry-peaked breasts. Only Foster could turn her on so quickly, his love-making as pleasing now as it had been when they had first given in to temptation years before. If there was another skill that Foster could add to the many that he already possessed, it was his cunnilingual technique. She wriggled with pleasure as his tongue seemed to reach places that her finger could not.
She felt the three-day old stubble on his chin graze over her tender flesh and a hunger gnawed within her. It was a hunger that only one action could assuage. She let out a whimper, a gasp as the roughness of his feasting centred on her clitoris and reached her hands down to move his head away.
A smiling Foster looked up at her from between her legs, his face shiny with sweat and Mitzi’s juices.
‘Why don’t you fuck me,’ she stated. It wasn’t a question.
Foster flicked his tongue along the thin line of hair decorating her pussy, circled it around her belly button and feather-kissed his way up to her breasts, taking her to the edge of bliss. He maneuvered himself into position and, as he bit down onto one of Mitzi’s erect nipples, allowed his erection to plough into her. Firm, long and proud, his dexterous crescent of flesh caused her to bite down of her bottom lip as he thrust into her.
She could feel her euphoria rising. No lover had ever made her feel like Foster. There had been many, but he was unique.
A scream escaped her lips but volume control was unnecessary. Who would hear her? Only the man causing her to ride the waves of joy in the same skilled way he rode those on the ocean. She was ecstatic for him to hear her appreciation. But no more words came as she pressed her mouth onto his and kissed him deeply. A knowing look from deep within his eyes, one of trust and shared love, told her what was to follow. Mitzi’s eyes blurred, her vision smudging as she felt him unleash his liquid into her and her own orgasm climb to its perfect peak. She wrapped her arms tightly around him, attempting to coax him even deeper. He kept his cock, still semi-stiff in his post denouement delirium, inside her. Foster and Mitzi were still in the same position, united in their love, half an hour later.
Nighttime
‘This has been the best holiday ever, Foster. Both sexually and otherwise,’ giggled Mitzi, somewhat tipsy from the third glass of champagne she’d drunk, accompanying the Caesar salad Foster had prepared her for dinner. ‘I mean it. The places we’ve seen have been amazing and it’s wonderful to just spend so much time together without cameras and press interviews and people screaming for autographs. Just to be you and me, us, together. Doing whatever we want, whenever we want. I have loved it so much, and I love you so much.’
‘I’ll have to make you drink champagne more often,’ said Foster, ‘if it makes you this mushy. You weren’t such a softie when you were barking dance moves at me when we first met, were you? Are you becoming softer with age?’ He winked playfully.
‘You were my professional partner then and I was doing my job. Now my job is to let you know how much I love you. Do we have to go back home?’
‘Not for another week or so, there are plenty of adventures to come yet. It’s not over till the gorgeous lady starts dancing, and that’s not until we reach UK shores again.’
‘Actually, I was thinking of putting on a bit of a show for you now. I love this song!’ said Mitzi, rising to her feet from their table outside their RV. It was late evening and the air was finally cool enough to be outside, where they had eaten. The sky had moved from blue to almost black, only a moon and a dotting of stars illuminating the air. She ran inside the camper van, and moved to the sound system which had been playing some of their favourite tunes all evening. It was Beyoncé’s ‘Drunk in Love’ that had just started. Turning up the volume, Mitzi sashayed back to the doorway of the camper van and let her body sway seductively to the beat. Silhouetted by the light coming from behind her in the RV, her actions were a perfect mix of flirty and dirty. The beat of the song throbbed as she moved, her timing perfect.
Just as Foster could feel his cock rising to attention again in his sweatpants, a sudden flash of light further across the canyon startled him away from Mitzi’s gyrating. Staring out into the darkness he could see a flicker of bright orange. What was it?
‘Stop the music will you, Mitz. What is that over there?’
Mitzi paused the music and silence fell around them. Joining Foster, Mitzi too gazed out into the night.
‘It’s a fire?’ There was questioning in her tone, but there was no doubt.
‘But I didn’t know there was anybody else out here,’ said Foster. ‘Maybe the sun started it earlier. We should take a look. It could be blocking the road out of here. And you never know, it may have been some dirty old men watching us through the RV windows earlier. We put on quite a show.’ The thought didn’t displease Mitzi, she was a showgirl after all. And their afternoon sex session had certainly been a spectacle to behold.
Foster was sure that he could hear something in the air. The sound of music. Was the champagne playing tricks on him? He didn’t think so.
‘Shall we go take a look?’ he asked.
‘Why not?’ giggled Mitzi, ‘maybe it’s another hot young couple out here just like us. And maybe they’re just as adventurous as us … and just as horny.’ She gave Foster’s ass a playful squeeze as they ventured off towards the bright orange glow.
The sky was pitch black yet the air seemed clear as they stumbled, a little giddy on bubbles, in the direction of the light. Mitzi kept losing her balance slightly on the pebbles and loose rocks beneath her feet. Foster took her hand to steady her. ‘We can’t have you twisting an ankle before dance season, can we?’
Mitzi found the whole situation borderline erotic. She and the man she loved, miles from anywhere, in the pitch blackness of the Calif
ornian wilderness. Alone and wild.
Except they weren’t alone.
Narrowing their eyes to try and scan the glow, the couple blinked until the crackle of orange came into focus. What they saw made Foster gasp. If Mitzi’s gasp earlier during their love-making had been one of total rapture, Foster’s was the complete antithesis.
‘What the fuck …?’ His words petered out.
‘What is it, Foster, what’s going on?’ It didn’t look like they were going to run into an amorous couple interested in a bit of fireside alfresco shagging. As she focused, a chill ran through Mitzi’s body and she let out a slight shiver.
‘Holy shit.’
Dancing around the fire, which they had obviously built themselves, to a heavy tribal musical beat, were a series of figures. They were all dressed in head to toe outfits obscuring their faces. They wore heavy robes, maybe made of hessian, almost monk-like in appearance, topped with wide hoods. There must have been about six of them. As the flames flickered higher, one of the figures stripped off the hood and untied the robe, allowing it to fall to the floor. It revealed a naked woman, Mitzi guessed about the same age as her, mid-twenties. She possessed full, round breasts and a small dark triangle of hair between her legs.
‘What the fuck is going on?’ Mitzi whispered, reconsidering the alfresco sex theory. Maybe they were just about to witness some kind of outdoor dogging scene with a difference. Mitzi always thought dogging was a load of dirty old men whacking off in a lorry park with some rough old housewife. Maybe the Yanks did it with glamour and lit by a naked flame.
The sound of the beat became louder and more frantic in the air. Foster and Mitzi could see that the other figures surrounding the young woman had stopped, but all bar one of them remained with their hoods in place. The one who revealed his face was a man of about fifty with what looked like a head of salt and pepper hair. It was hard to discern his features exactly as the flickering of the firelight distorted the air.
From one of the sleeves of his robe he pulled out a long, wide-bladed knife. The blade caught the firelight and reflected shards of colour shot into the air.