The Accidental Bride (Black Lace)

by Portia Da Costa

  ‘Er, nothing, really. In fact, it’s good news, actually.’ Should she tell him? She could still sense that trickle of an edge in him. He had something on his mind, something to do with the afternoon they’d spent, despite how much fun it’d been.

  No use keeping things from him, though. ‘It’s from Lizzie. John’s just proposed … and she’s accepted,’ she said, shoving her mobile back into her little cross-body bag.

  Sholto nodded, apparently unfazed. ‘I had a feeling that might happen soon. Didn’t you? It’s obvious he’s besotted with her, and she with him. And there’s nothing really standing in their way, so why shouldn’t they get hitched?’

  His voice was smooth and even, yet Shelley, growing more attuned to him by the day, could almost taste the tension.

  ‘I suppose not,’ she said, wanting to slide along the bench, closer to him, so she could put her arms around him. Reassure him, although about what, she wasn’t precisely sure. Money, she guessed. All he’d lost, and not just the money. Maybe she’d suggest a little session when they got in. Something to take his mind off things. He’d given her a few playful slaps on the bottom when they’d been changing in the cabana at Dalethwaite, but it’d just been larking about, really.

  ‘There’s nothing to stop them really,’ she went on. ‘I mean … there’s the age gap and everything, but they don’t seem bothered by it, so why should anybody else be?’

  ‘That’s nothing,’ said Sholto, almost dismissively.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ asked Shelley, mirroring Sholto’s earlier enquiry.

  He was quiet for a few moments, staring out into the Piazza in a way that said he didn’t see either the place, or the people.

  ‘I just wish I could give you all that,’ he blurted out, his voice hard-edged. ‘I could have done once. Well, certainly not to that degree. But we could have had a nice place, a secure future, a comfortable life, with a bit of spice round the edges.’ He turned to her, his green eyes full of familiar shadows. ‘You know I want to, don’t you? I know I’ve not said it in so many words, but I’ve fallen for you, Shell. I want us to be together. Properly, you know?’

  Shelley’s heart beat hard, a thud on her own behalf now. In light of Lizzie’s news, was this … Was this Sholto’s version of a proposal?

  She slid along the seat, not stopping to think, but just circling her arms around him, beneath his jacket. It was getting chilly now, and his powerful body seemed all the warmer for it.

  ‘I don’t want all that, Sholto. What Lizzie’s got is a full-on fairy tale, a bit over the top, really. I know she’ll be happy, and she’ll take to it like a duck to water, because John will be there beside her.’ She tightened her arms around her man, for emphasis. ‘But it’s not really what I want. OK, a little bit more money would be nice, but we’re doing fine, aren’t we? We’ve both got steady jobs. Doing stuff we enjoy, at last. And we’ve got a decent place to live that costs us next to nothing.’ Shooting forward, she pressed her lips to his jawline, nuzzling, trying to relax the tension in him. ‘And … well … we’ve got each other, and that’s all I really want, not millions and big houses and titles and whatnot.’ She kissed again, then, hardly able to breathe, she went for broke. ‘I just want you, Sholto. I know you might not be ready yet, but I just want to put this out there in the meantime. I love you.’

  Barely daring to look at him, she did so, nevertheless. And her batting heart leapt again. His green eyes were warm, full of wonder. ‘Oh, Shelley,’ he murmured, then pulled her against him, kissing her hair, his hands sliding up and down her back, almost as if she were Mulder the cat and he was stroking her.

  Was it just affection? Or was it more? It was certainly something, and it felt good.

  Somehow their mouths found each other, and they kissed hard. It was a hot kiss, a sex kiss, but more, deeper. Shelley wanted her man, as she always did, but there was something else. An awareness that she’d put herself out there, in a vulnerable position, revealing her emotion, and for once in her life, it hadn’t been a mistake. It’d been the right thing to do, and Sholto had liked it. Did like it.

  As his hand slid up her ribcage, she almost moaned. His hands were big, nearly all-encompassing, but they had a gentle touch too. His massage skills were amazing. He could go light; he could go in hard. And both were good. It was the same with sex and BDSM play. He could beat her fiercely, when she wanted it. And caress with breath-taking finesse when she wanted that instead.

  He could be tough and taciturn too, or as kind and considerate as an angel.

  Somewhere outside their little zone of togetherness, an amiable, ribald voice cried out, ‘Go on, my son!’ and Shelley laughed in the kiss, aware that they were putting on a show.

  When they drew apart Sholto’s green eyes were bright, full of desire, but a lust tempered with tenderness. He grabbed her by the hand and drew her to her feet. ‘Come on, woman, let’s fuck.’

  Shelley gasped, but she was right with him, and when Sholto marched her across the Piazza, she hurried along beside him, grinning. She knew where they were going. They’d been there before.

  16

  Shelley and Sholto

  There was a narrow little alley, tucked away between two shops, on the way to the bus station. They’d found it once whilst looking for a shortcut, and in the shadows, hot for each other, they’d kissed, then it’d spiralled out of control and they’d fucked up against the wall. Shelley had hardly been able to believe that they’d done what they’d done – but the next time they’d been that way, they’d done it again!

  Within moments, they were sidling into their secret place like a couple of spies surreptitiously scoping out a dead-letter box. Sholto grabbed her and backed her up against the none too pristine brickwork. Shelley didn’t care, though, and now less than ever. This was her Sholto, the man she respected and loved. He might not be the superstar that John Smith was, but in his own way, and for her, he shone.

  Their mouths met, and their tongues twined and battled. Picking up where he’d left off in the Piazza, Sholto slid his hand up her top, pushed aside her bra and cupped her breast. The caress was rough and eager, lacking in the finesse of which she knew he was eminently capable. But it was just what she needed and wanted. Her heart sang when he grunted with satisfaction at the touch of her flesh, and she felt his kiss shape into a smile against her mouth.

  She yelped when he squeezed her nipple, and a shot of sensation sped from his fingertips to the niche between her legs. He squeezed harder and she rubbed her crotch against him. ‘Horny little bitch,’ he growled, sounding happy and pleased. ‘Pull your skirt up and touch yourself,’ he commanded, still pinching her breast tip, his free hand flat against the wall beside her head.

  Shelley sprang to obedience, hauling up her flirty summer skirt and pushing her hand into her pants. She was swimming with lust for him already. Hell, yes! She rubbed herself as Sholto assailed her tits, pinching one, then the other, and back again.

  ‘Bring yourself off, Shell. I want an orgasm out of you. Now. Don’t disappoint me.’

  So masterful. It was easy. She worked her clit like a madwoman, and while she did, he abandoned her breast and thrust fingers into her mouth, so she could suckle them.

  It only took a moment or two, and she nearly bit down on him, coming hard, and fast, in great wrenching waves. She tried to keep quiet, but she couldn’t. Uncouth noises issued from her lips, garbled by the obstruction in her mouth. They sounded loud too, stark over the voices of people passing the end of the alley. Out of the corner of her eye, Shelley glanced that way, half-fearful someone would hear her and come to investigate, half hoping, that someone would come to watch. The idea of some unknown person … man … seeing her come made the pleasure skyrocket.

  Drawing his fingers from her mouth, Sholto kissed her through the tumult, then murmured, ‘I want you, babe. I’m going to fuck you now.’ Nonsense words for a genuine emotion. ‘Now, take your pants off.’

  Swaying on shaky legs, Shelley obey
ed him, and just as she was about to stuff her knickers in her pocket, Sholto grabbed them and flung them away down the alley. ‘Bare for me now,’ he said, in triumph, and she could feel him fishing about in the back pocket of his jeans for a condom. Then, turning slightly away from the entrance to the alley, he unzipped and worked his cock out of his fly and underwear.

  Bashful, eh?

  Shelley smiled. Maybe her hard, bold, tough boyfriend had his shy side after all. For herself, she didn’t care, right at that moment, who saw her; although perhaps soon, very soon, she might not want to show off, but to keep her nakedness exclusively for her man. And whatever he might eventually become to her.

  ‘Put the rubber on me.’

  She complied, sinking to her knees on the roughly concreted surface beneath her. Quickly, she rolled the condom on, then sucked his glans a bit through it, not really liking the rubber flavour, but joyous to please him.

  ‘Enough of that.’ He grabbed her by her shoulder and hauled her up, pushing her back firm and flat against the wall. Flexing his knees, he dipped down, and at the same time, lifted one of her legs, to open her wide. Shelley felt blindly, instinctively, for his cock, and taking him by the tip, she guided him to her entrance, hitching a little this way and that, to notch him there.

  Then, with a roll of his hips, and a mighty shove, Sholto Kraft pushed his way magisterially into her body.

  Laughing, gasping, throwing her head back with joy, Lizzie cried out, riding her orgasm, and riding John.

  Alice the cat had leapt off the bed and gone, as mercurially and unexpectedly as she’d arrived, and in a sudden, intense need to take John by surprise too, Lizzie had climbed astride her new fiancé and rubbed herself against him, massaging his cock with her crotch. Pleasures of the flesh were so much easier to deal with than ‘the future’ and within seconds, the inevitable had happened, and they were fishing for a condom and making ready.

  In a wild happy bounce they’d thrown themselves at each other, as hungry and eager as if they’d not made love for weeks, much less barely an hour or so ago.

  ‘Lizzie, Lizzie, Lizzie,’ chanted John, his hips jerking as he came in her, and she folded herself down over his beloved form, and kissed his lips.

  ‘Well, I’ve always prided myself on my sexual stamina,’ said John cheerfully, a little while later as they lay beside each other, ‘but since I met and started shagging you, my darling fiancée, I seem to have reached a whole new level of virility.’ He took her hand, and conveyed it to his lips for a short, sweet kiss. ‘And believe you me, love, I’m certainly not complaining.’

  ‘Me neither.’ Lizzie pressed her lips to his smooth bare shoulder. ‘Although I must admit I’m a bit too knackered now, for getting into those plans you mentioned.’ She looked at him, more seriously, meeting his eye. ‘Do you think you’ll be able to sleep?’

  ‘I’m certainly going to try, sweetheart. And don’t let me stop you either, if you’re tired now. There’ll be all the time in the world to make our plans.’

  A stir of disquiet surged in her mid-section. Plans. It sounded so serious. So grown up. And a little part of her was still coming to terms with the reality of being engaged to John Smith, multi-millionaire and aristocrat. It was like nothing she’d ever imagined for herself. It was like a movie, but suddenly, quite real.

  ‘What exactly did you mean by plans, apart from the obvious? Um … length of engagement. Where and when we get married etcetera, etcetera?’

  John gave her a long, steady look. ‘Well, I would say “don’t worry your pretty little head about it all”, but I’m fairly sure I’d get a sizeable smack in the chops if I did.’

  ‘You would indeed.’

  He laughed. ‘So, as I said … Other than putting the respective parents in the picture, we’ll do everything at your pace, Lizzie. And however you want. Big do, small do, it’s entirely up to you. I’m not even sure whether I can get married again in church, as a divorced man, but if you’d like to, we can always have a blessing instead, along with a civil ceremony.’ For a moment, he paused, and bit his lip. ‘Actually, daft as it might seem, I’m starting to find the thought of wedding preparations quite exciting. Is that a bit girlie of me?’

  Lizzie’s heart turned over. Aw, bless him. ‘I think it’s rather sweet, boss man. I … I haven’t really thought about the idea of weddings myself all that much. Well, not until lately, when I started work on the first New Again bridal gown, and the other commissions. I’d always imagined having some kind of quickie wedding, if I got married at all, but now I’m starting to like the idea of something a bit more elaborate, you know?’ She kissed his shoulder again, tasting a hint of salty sweat on his skin. ‘Nothing major on the Wills and Kate level, but the proper thing, a proper wedding. White frock and all.’

  ‘You’ll look gorgeous in a big, fluffy meringue of a dress,’ John said, with a grin.

  ‘I’m not wearing a meringue! But I’ve got some ideas.’ She had, too, but it was early days, and she’d no idea how she was going to find a suitable pattern to adapt. ‘And I shall be making it myself, whatever it is.’ She had to be firm on that. She was still Lizzie, who made her own decisions, and many of her own clothes, even if marrying John made her into a very rich woman.

  ‘I wouldn’t dream of suggesting anything else,’ he said quickly. Too quickly?

  ‘Well, you did say we’d do everything my way,’ she pointed out, mock-nipping him, ‘and that’s my way.’

  ‘OK, OK.’ He reached around, slid his fingers under her chin, raising her face to him. ‘But you’ll be my wife, Lizzie, and my fiancée first. There’ll have to be some changes. Just practical ones. You’ll need bank accounts, credit cards of your own, all that jazz. And perhaps you could put your business relationship with Marie on a more formal footing?’ He paused, and Lizzie sensed that suddenly John Smith, powerful business mogul, was with them, fused with John, the beautiful lover. ‘I’d like to buy the entire New Again business for you as an engagement gift.’

  Lizzie sat up sharply. ‘No way, John! It’s Marie’s business. I work with her as a partner. I don’t want to be a boss!’

  John was quiet for a moment. ‘I’m sorry, Lizzie. I’m getting grandiose ideas again. Trying to buy everything and steamroller you.’ He sat up alongside her, and drew her hand to his lips. ‘You’re very wise, my darling. You know what’s right for you. Much better than I, or anyone else does. I promise not to put pressure on you.’ He kissed her hands again, his lips expressing acceptance. He was a great man, a dominant man, acknowledging his equal now, just as she’d specified. ‘But if you ever do need funds, or any kind of resource or business advice, anything, just say the word. I’m here for you now. We’re partners too. And I’ve got your back.’

  It was a heavy moment, an intense moment. He loved her and he wanted the best for her, but he was so used to having his own way. ‘I know, John. And I appreciate that.’ She leant forward and pressed a kiss to his cheek. ‘You’ve got my back … and the rest of me too. And I think we’ve made progress here … At least you did ask me first this time, about the business.’

  She winked at him, and he threw his arms around her. They hugged. This sort of issue would always resurface between them, and there would be contretemps. It was just the way they were. But they’d deal with it too … because that was what people who loved each other did.

  ‘Enough with all the heavy stuff,’ said John as they broke apart. ‘Let’s try and sleep now, my love. It’s been a big day. A very big day. We’ll talk tomorrow. Now we have to rest.’

  Rest, yes. Easier said than done. Not sure whether she’d be able to nod off, never mind her beloved with his longstanding sleep problems, Lizzie still lay down beside him, hoping for the best.

  And despite everything, despite the momentousness, despite the qualms, despite the wonderfulness, she nodded off, her fingers still lightly entwined with John’s.

  Shelley clamped her knees together. It was a summer’s night, but even chillier
than when they’d set off from the Piazza. And at this hour the naughty cool breezes kept finding their way up her skirt as she sat on the bench. Her knickers were lying somewhere amongst the muck and grunge of the sex alley, and no matter how much she liked them, no way was she picking them up from the ground.

  ‘You’re cold,’ said Sholto, making her jump. For a big man, he had a knack of being able to sneak up unawares, especially on people who were deep in thought to start with. ‘Here, take these.’ He handed her two insulated cups from the coffee machine on the bus station concourse, then shrugged out of his jacket. Settling it around her shoulders, he took a coffee cup back from her, and popped the lid.

  ‘Now you’ll be cold,’ Shelley countered, starting on her own coffee. For vending machine witch-brew, it was surprisingly good. Beside her, Sholto didn’t seem to be displaying any signs of being cold, though. No goose-flesh on the skin of his magnificent biceps and forearms.

  ‘I’m fine,’ he said easily. ‘How about you? Not feeling the draught, are we?’ He nodded in the direction of her groin.

  She laughed. ‘A bit, but it was worth it.’

  ‘Wasn’t it just?’ Sholto winked. He looked happy. Happy in an unalloyed way that made Shelley’s heart sing to see it. The troubled man she’d first come to know as an escort, at the Sorrel Hotel, here in town, was gradually being replaced by a new, more at peace with himself Sholto. The fact that she’d helped him to get there filled her with wonder, and a great sense of pride.

  ‘I’ll buy you some new knickers,’ he went on. ‘Something lacy and frilly, or perhaps leather or rubber, if you prefer?’ He grinned salaciously. ‘I might not be able to buy you a mansion house or a car or diamonds, but I can spring for a nice pair of pants.’

  ‘How many times do I have to tell you? I don’t want all that stuff.’

  ‘I know, babe, I know.’ He seemed so much less up tight about it now; less, even than before. It was almost as if the wild, haphazard, but strangely tender sex in the alley had sealed something between them. Been a watershed of some kind. ‘So, did you enjoy our celebration shag, then?’