An Affair To Remember: A Ludlow Hall Christmas

by CC MacKenzie

  And it wasn't the end because now two fingers entered her, stretching her wide as he searched to find the spot he was looking for and used those fingers ruthlessly to bring her screaming to peak yet again. Then she was hauled to the edge of the bed, her legs over his shoulders as he grabbed her hips and took her, made her his, with one hard thrust. Her shocked inhale didn't stop him as his hips pistoned hard and fast, as her breasts bounced with each impalement. She was on her back with nothing to hold onto. So she held on tight to the sheets, fisting her hands as he went faster and faster. The friction was something she'd never experienced before as her body climbed higher and higher. But it was the expression on his face that held her captive, she couldn't look away. His eyes were dark and burned into hers as his brow creased as his white teeth were bared with something that looked more like pain than pleasure. And she knew he was battling to hold on until she flew, but she couldn't quite get there. One hand released her to slide between her legs as his thumb moved to the spot where his body joined hers and he found that swollen button and worked it as hard as he was working her. When her back and her neck arched that was when he let go. He fell upon her, held her close and cried her name as his seed shot into her again and again.

  Marc just had to close his eyes and try to breathe through what her body was doing to his. Still her core gripped his dick, squeezing and milking him dry. His lungs were heaving as he made a pitiful attempt to suck air. Their hearts were racing and they were covered in healthy sweat and still her body refused to release him.

  "Don't move," he begged.

  Her soft laugh actually vibrated right through his dick, he'd never felt anything like it in his life.

  "Don't laugh either or you'll kill me."

  Her response was a slow slide of her hand from his shoulder to his ass and back again. He reckoned it was supposed to be a soothing motion. To his dick it was anything but and when her hand lingered on his ass and squeezed and then ran her nails over it, his body twitched in appreciation. Like a contented kitten, she purred deep in her throat and he had to clench his teeth.

  "If you say one word," he warned.

  "I'm not the one doing all the talking," she whispered.

  "I think you've broken the beast."

  Now she did laugh and laughed harder when he swore and slid out of her.

  Chapter Eleven

  The following Monday afternoon Marc sat in a plush leather chair opposite Nico Ferranti in Nico's office at his home, The Dower House, rather than Nico's office in Ludlow Hall.

  "I am thinking we should remove the bugs. It is impossible to get any work done," Nico said.

  Nico was an impressive looking man, tall, lean and dark as befitted his Italian heritage. Marc was used to seeing Nico looking immaculate in hand-crafted suits from Savile Row. He rarely saw him dressed as he was today, in jeans tucked into boots and a cashmere sweater.

  "We still don't know who the mole is," Marc reminded him.

  "Si, I know this, but I try to keep my home and professional life separate."

  Family time was important to Nico, Marc understood that, admired it even.

  "We've managed to narrow down the list of suspects to two. One from the reception staff and one from housekeeping."

  Now Nico leaned across the desk, his grey eyes sharp.

  "Who?"

  Marc had been expecting this reaction.

  "I don't want to say until we have facts and proof. It's crucial that there is no change in your habits or demeanour towards the staff when you're working. The last thing we want to do is to scare him or her off. Just give us another few days. We've placed hidden cameras in your office, in reception's back office and in housekeeping."

  Nico scratched his chin and didn't look happy.

  "It is a great pity we cannot think of a way to flush them out."

  Marc ran his tongue inside his cheek and Nico spotted the tic.

  "Have you thought of something?"

  Actually, he had.

  But it was very risky and might cause more trouble than it was worth.

  He also needed to come clean about a personal matter.

  "I'm seeing Elena Kennedy, in a personal capacity."

  Nico blinked.

  "She is a lovely girl. Is it serious?"

  "Yep."

  Now Nico grinned, wiggled his dark brows.

  "How serious?"

  Marc didn't flinch from telling him the truth.

  Nico Ferranti was not only his employer, he was also his very good friend.

  "Marriage, babies, the whole happy ever after."

  Marc rose as Nico got to his feet, strolled around the desk to envelope him in a Nico Ferranti speciality, the man hug. He was kissed once on each cheek, hugged tight and given a back slap that would fell a bull elephant.

  "Congratulazioni! I am happy, happy, for you and Elena. She comes from a large famiglia of good men. Un momento!" Nico strode to the door, opened it and yelled, "Bronte, bella!"

  "What's up, babe?" came the response from the vast family kitchen, living room

  "Bring champagne and three glasses. We have a celebrazioni!"

  "Oooooooh! Coming right up."

  Nico rubbed his hands as he strolled back to sit behind his desk, his handsome face split with a wide grin, his grey eyes dancing with delight. His friend's sincere pleasure in Marc's personal happiness was a gift that he never took for granted.

  Bronte Ferranti entered carrying a bottle of the very best champagne wrapped in a folded white napkin and three champagne glasses. She kissed her husband on the mouth, handed him the champagne, placed the glasses on the desk and turned to Marc.

  "Hey, Marc."

  She held out her arms and Marc was only too delighted to give her a hug.

  Bronte was willow slim and as tall as Elena.

  But where Elena was dark, Bronte was light.

  She was a natural ash blonde with wide emerald eyes, creamy skin, high cheekbones and a full mouth. The only jewellery she wore was a slim wedding band of white gold set with tiny diamonds. The Ferranti's did not flash the cash. Today she wore black skinny jeans, a pale grey polo neck sweater of fine cashmere and her shining head of hair was tied back in a complicated plait. Bronte Ferranti was drop dead gorgeous. And she had a heart of solid gold, something else she shared with Elena.

  Nico popped the cork.

  "Hey, yourself," Marc said. "I hope we haven't put you out. Where are the kids?"

  Bronte shook her head, patted his cheek and accepted a glass from her husband before settling herself into the chair next to Marc and crossed endless legs.

  "The twins are attending a birthday party and nanny's bathing Eve. Anyway, you could never put me out." Bronte grinned at the two men. "Okay, don't keep me in suspense, guys. What are we celebrating?"

  "Marc is in love."

  Bronte's eyes grew as wide as her smile as she turned to Marc.

  "Really?" she asked, rolling the 'r' in a way that made him look to heaven. "Who is she? Anyone we know?"

  "Elena Kennedy," Marc said before Nico could beat him to it.

  If anything Bronte's smile went even wider.

  "I adore Elena. She's full of fun. I'm so pleased for both of you. When did this happen?"

  "Friday night. Although I've had my eye on her for a while."

  "You must bring her to dinner," Nico said. "We will make a plan."

  "How are you settling in?" Bronte wanted to know, referring to the A frame cottage he'd been given. The place was stunning. And with five bedrooms was probably too big for one man. But that was Nico Ferranti for you, generous to a fault.

  "Love it," he said, sincerely.

  "I've been thinking," Bronte said. "Why don't you bring your mother and Nina up to stay with you over the holiday season? And beyond if you want to. I know that the first Christmas after I lost my parents was incredibly hard. Maybe the change of scene is just what your mother needs."

  Actually Marc had been thinking of doing just that. His adopted
parents had been married for over forty years. It was only natural that Mary Jones was struggling to come to terms with her loss. However, Nina was worried that her mother was sinking into depression. Losing a loved one was a time when family pulled together. Closing the large house in Devon wouldn't be a problem either.

  "Do you need a bigger cottage?" Nico wanted to know.

  Marc didn't think so, but Bronte jumped in.

  "What about Heron's Rest? It's fully completed and tested and looking amazing." She turned to Marc. "It would be perfect because it's a double A frame with a single story kitchen living space with covered deck linking the two frames. It would mean Nina and Mary would have their own private living space and you would have yours."

  Marc shook his head.

  "It has eight bedrooms."

  But Bronte was not to be deterred.

  "Yes, but you'll need office space to do your spook stuff. Nina needs a place to study, too. And it's the perfect place for a Christmas party. Don't forget Elena has a large family. It's perfect!"

  Marc felt as if he was being run over by a gentle steamroller. He looked helplessly at Nico for assistance, but his friend was grinning from ear to ear.

  "Si, it is sorted."

  The sound of a child's wail from upstairs had Bronte springing to her feet.

  "Time for a feed before bed. No, please don't get up," she said, when Marc went to rise. "Tell Elena I'll be in touch. See you later." And she was gone.

  Nico couldn't stop grinning at Marc's shell-shocked face.

  "She is weaning Eve, the bambino still needs to be close to her mama."

  "You have a beautiful family, Nico."

  Now the big Italian's grey eyes went soft.

  "Si, we are lucky men. People like us, people who have known hunger, pain. It is not often we are given a chance to have a life like this. Evviva, Marc. You have done well with your life, for your sister and now for your mama. I am proud to be your friend."

  And that was Nico Ferranti all over.

  The Italian wore his heart on his sleeve and could make a grown man weep.

  As Nico topped up their glasses, Marc sat forward, prepared to lay out his idea to catch a betrayer in the act.

  "So, about the mole," he said, and sat back to enjoy his wine. "I have a plan."

  Chapter Twelve

  It was one week until Christmas and Elena was supervising the large reception area at Ludlow Hall. And she'd never been happier.

  Was it possible that being madly in love with the man of her dreams made a woman skinny? More than one person had mentioned that she looked different and that she looked as if she'd lost weight. She grinned, probably all the multiple orgasms she was having. A wall in her office had one way glass so that she could keep an eye on the comings and goings. Now she moved to a long wall mirror and made sure her two piece suit, made of the finest Italian wool the colour of a cappuccino, was still sharp. Nico Ferranti had brought in a design team to tailor the uniforms for all Ferranti front line staff. And Elena loved the way the cut flattered everyone. Each staff member had eight pieces to choose from; skirts, pants, three jacket styles and dresses. There were uniforms for summer and winter, too. But it was the shoes that Elena absolutely adored. Smart pumps of chocolate brown leather handmade in Italy that matched an optional slim shoulder bag. Today Elena's jacket had a Mandarin collar, the jacket tailored to nip in at the waist and to skim just below her bottom, and the skirt was slim with a kick pleat at the back. She wore a chocolate brown scarf of the finest silk at her neck with gold F's embossed for Ferranti.

  She took a breath and strolled out of her office to take over desk duty for thirty minutes.

  "Time to take a break, Jenny. You've done very well today. Are you enjoying yourself?"

  Jenny was nineteen, fresh from the local college and an enthusiastic addition to the team.

  She turned to Elena and grinned, her eyes thrilled with the pat on the back.

  "I love working here, Elena."

  "Good to hear."

  "Evening, ladies."

  The deep voice had Elena's cheeks burn, but she kept calm and turned to give Marc a strictly professional smile. Shame she could do nothing about the happiness glittering in her hazel eyes or the tingles that raced through her system giving her gooseflesh.

  Even little Jenny wasn't immune to the Marc Atelier affect.

  "Good evening, Mr. Atelier," she breathed.

  The girl's eyes were huge as she looked her fill over a wonderful example of prime male real estate.

  "Thirty minutes, Jenny," Elena reminded her, shaking her head as the girl headed for the break-out area.

  "What time do you finish?"

  Elena turned to eye a Marc who was looking immaculate in his dark suit, crisp white shirt and dark tie. He had a tiny earpiece in his left ear and a slim walkie talkie slipped into the top pocket of his jacket.

  "One hour. The evening shift are due in thirty minutes." She turned to squint out the windows to see fat snowflakes falling, and added, "Weather permitting."

  "The roads have been ploughed and we have our own team keeping the entrance, the drive and the paths clear," he paused to stare at her mouth in a way that made her pulse kick. He'd been giving her that look all day. Now his eyes met hers and what she saw there made her mouth dry.

  "Why don't I take your key and prepare for... dinner?"

  His voice was low and the tone promised a lot more than... dinner.

  The tingles were now a steady buzz through her system.

  Her, "Okay," was a breathy whisper. Under the circumstances, that was the best she could manage.

  One of the simple pleasures that they'd discovered together was the preparation of food.

  Marc had been taught to cook by the wonderful Mary Jones, a woman Elena had talked to at length on the phone, but hadn't met. And Elena was no slouch in the kitchen herself.

  She popped into her office to grab her keys and turned to find him right behind her.

  "You're very sneaky." The glint in his eye made her slap her hand to his wide chest. "No kissing in the office."

  Too late.

  He landed a hard kiss on her stunned mouth as he whipped her keys from her hand.

  "Text me if you're delayed," he said and sauntered out.

  Elena tried, really tried, to be annoyed with him, but it didn't work.

  A curl of excitement uncoiled deep in her belly, along with a sense of anticipation.

  She couldn't wait.

  Marc let himself into the coach house, turned off the alarm.

  After a verbal tussle that had ended with sex on the floor, he'd managed to get his way about Elena arming the security system and educating her about the importance of an entry and exit routine to help keep her safe.

  The house smelled of Elena he thought as he hung his coat on the hook.

  He stripped off his jacket, tie and unbuttoned his shirt, as he made his way upstairs to the space he already thought of as 'their' bedroom. Stepping out of his shoes, he made short work of his pants and folded them over the back of a chair, hung up his jacket like a good boy. Elena liked order in her life, so he picked up his Calvin's, socks, and tossed them in the laundry. Padding over the floor, he turned on a bedside light and closed the curtains. And headed for the shower.

  The architect who'd overseen the conversion of the coach house had sacrificed a third second floor bedroom to construct an awesome walk-in shower and bath arrangement. Marc and his woman had enjoyed shower sex this morning and he couldn't wait to do it again... along with other... things.

  Every time he thought of Elena Kennedy he went rock hard, just like that. He'd never felt like this about a woman before, love, affection and wicked lust all rolled into one. He'd been a horny bastard all day. Now he lifted his head to the power of water steaming from a shower head the size of a dinner plate and just let it rinse away, not only soap and shampoo, but the cares and stresses of the day.

  He grabbed a towel from the heated rail, wound
it around his waist and ignored the way his dick made it tent at the front, the penalty for thinking about shower sex and Elena. Using another towel to dry his hair, he turned and saw the woman herself leaning against the bathroom door frame and enjoying the view.

  He grinned.

  "Hey, baby. You're early."

  In the light, her hazel eyes were a glowing gold as they took a long look at his pecs, his belly and then lingered on a part of him that seemed to have a mind of its own around her these days.

  "The evening crew arrived early so I took advantage and left early." She licked her lips and the tent pole grew. Now her eyes flicked to his and he read more than desire in those golden eyes, he read hunger, he read need. "And I can see you're very happy to see me," she said in a hoarse whisper.

  There were times when Marc liked his sex a little bit rough and a little bit hard. So far, he hadn't introduced Elena to his likes and dislikes. At all times his first priority was seeing to her needs, her happiness. Plus, he'd been having too much fun learning the secrets of her body, inside and out. But then he remembered the things she'd told him under the influence of After Shock. Things like having her panties at her ankles, things like having him bend her over the arm of the sofa, things like taking her from behind fast and hard.

  He could do all that and more.

  No problemo.

  "Why don't you get out of that uniform," he suggested, in a low voice that was more of a purr than a growl. Those golden eyes went wide as she received the message. Had it only been a week since he'd first made love with her? Now all it took was a single look that scorched his soul, or a single lick of the lips that made his heart beat too fast. It was amazing how in tune they were with each other's needs, each other's desires.

  She stripped off her nifty silk scarf, and Marc wondered if she was like most other women and owned a vast supply of scarves because he could put a number of them to good use. The jacket came next, showcasing a boned bra that was nothing more than a scrap of lace and silk and then she unzipped her skirt and his mouth went dry. The matching string panties hardly covered her smooth mound. When she turned her back to bend over to pick up her skirt he nearly embarrassed himself. Little tease. Now, she carefully hung up her suit in the closet. Instead of shoes she was wearing snow boots, so she sat on the edge of the bed and bent down to unzip her boots, giving him a fabulous view of smooth breasts. Tossing the boots aside, she stood before him in bra and panties, in all her glory, her eyes on his mouth as she lifted her chin.