by Jenna Ellis
I don’t want to come yet. I tear myself away, pushing his shoulders. He smiles up at me between my legs, then kneels up. I kiss him again, tasting myself on him, then slide my hand confidently inside his shorts and grip his thick girth. He feels so hot and smooth and gorgeous.
I take my hand out and undo the tie on his shorts and push them down, staring as his proud cock stands to attention against his flat, tanned stomach. It’s even more beautiful than I’d imagined. Typical of Edward to have a model-perfect cock, I think, as I grip it tightly and lean forward, starting at the salty base and staring up into his eyes, as I flick my tongue up his length. He stares at me, his breathing a ragged hiss as I reach his tip and flip my tongue over the smooth, wet, delicious pinkness. It honestly feels like the most glorious thing I’ve ever put in my mouth.
I plunge my mouth over him, taking his shaft deep in my mouth, letting him fill me as far as I can. He leans forward, splaying my buttocks. I feel sun shining on me as he reaches for me. I’m dripping, desperate.
I slide back and forth, feeling his hot cock straining, then he gasps and pulls away. He pushes my shoulder gently and I lie back, waiting for him. He leans down on me slowly and, as if it was always meant to be there, his cock is right at my opening. He brushes the hair out of my face and stares into my eyes as he pushes inside me. All I can see is his face, his huge, beautiful eyes and, behind him, the blue sky. It’s as if every sense I have is fizzing. I gasp, reaching for him, holding his face and kissing him – snogging him – like it’s the last snog of all time. I wrap my legs around him, pushing my heels into his buttocks, feeling him fill me up completely. It feels like every part of me is fusing with him. And I want him. All of him. Every last part.
He kneels up, still inside me, and smiles. Lifting one of my legs, he takes my foot and sucks my big toe, his eyes never leaving contact with mine. I can feel his balls against me, his cock right inside me, but the toe thing – that’s all new. It’s a whole other dimension.
‘You are so goddamned gorgeous,’ he says, as he runs his tongue in between my toes. His thumb presses into a point on the bottom of my foot that sends my pelvis involuntarily shooting up towards him. He smiles, knowledgeably. Then it’s the turn of the other foot and I’m in raptures. I can hardly breathe.
‘Not yet,’ he whispers, gently lowering my foot.
He pulls out of me. His cock glistens in the sunlight. He stands and, for a moment, he’s like a mirage. Like some kind of sea god, holding his hand down to me. I feel the sea, the sun, the glittering heat of it all blinding me.
I wonder where we’re going, but wherever it is, Edward changes his mind, as if overcome with desire. He turns me round and grabs me, and I hang onto the metal rail at the side of the boat. I can see our reflections in the water as he bends his knees and then enters me from behind. His head is next to mine, his hands reaching around to cup and fondle my breasts. I think I might topple over, the boat gently swaying beneath us, but he’s got me. I reach up behind me, stroking his hair, looking at our faces side-by-side in the watery reflection. I wriggle backwards onto him, wanting him, wanting him to fill me up. I gasp, lifted off my feet as he thrusts into me. Then one hand stays on my nipple, squeezing tightly, just as I like, as the other reaches down. I feel him rub his fingertips against my clitoris. I grab the back of his head, crying out as he speeds up and we both come.
57
Afterwards, an hour or more afterwards, when we’re finally burnt out, I sigh as I look at the sky. As I lie naked in the sun in Edward’s arms on the soft cushion of the cockpit, he traces the outline of my shoulder with his finger and stares at me as if I’m the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. I feel his eyelashes whisper against my cheek.
I stare at his nakedness, tracing my fingertip down the contours of his stomach, and look at the smooth skin of his now-soft cock, loving that I now know it. Loving that, after our frenzied first fuck, our second was so sensual. How we both watched, both trembling as I knelt over him and his shaft entered me, the base of it straining, my lips folding around it. How I felt his tight balls against my buttocks. How he sat up with an agonizingly pleasurable sigh and buried his face between my breasts, before kissing me and biting my nipples gently until I cried out. How I clasped my hands around his neck and rocked back on him.
It’s been such a revelation, but I’ve discovered something so fundamental about Edward. Because now that I’ve shared my body with him, he makes sense as a person. That undercurrent of sexuality I’ve been feeling at the house is real. Because he exudes it from every pore, and I’ve seen how alive he becomes when he’s making love, like every single part of his attention, his skill, his desire is focused. As if he, as a person, has been designed for lovemaking, and everything else that he does is a mere distraction.
It’s so vivid in my mind that I still feel its aftershock, as I lie here naked in stillness, feeling like a goddess. I’m exhausted and spent, my mouth still sore from our non-stop kissing, but as the boat rocks gently on the waves I’m filled with a kind of peace I’ve never felt. I feel physically, emotionally and spiritually connected to him in a deeply profound way and I know that he feels it, too.
We’re silent for ages and then he takes a breath in and slowly exhales. ‘Oh, Sophie,’ he mutters.
‘I’m sorry,’ I tell him, but my voice isn’t sorry. I smile at him, tracing the line of his delicious lips. ‘I started it. I couldn’t help myself—’
He silences me with a kiss. ‘It’s not your fault,’ he whispers. ‘Do you think I haven’t wanted you from the first second I saw you dancing across the room?’
‘You have?’
‘Oh my God, you’ve been driving me crazy, and then the sauna . . .’
I laugh. ‘You knew? You knew what you were doing to me?’
‘Sophie,’ he says, like I’m being ridiculous. Like there’s no need any longer for pretence.
‘I was desperate for you to touch me.’
‘I went as far as I could go. If you’d only turned round, you would have seen how ready I was for you.’
And I see now that he’s been waiting for me. Waiting for me to make the first move. That this always had to be my decision.
He kisses me as we laugh. Eventually, he pulls away.
‘Stay there,’ Edward says and quickly moves into the galley. I love watching him naked. I love the way his body is so natural and that I am seeing this amazing, intimate knowledge of him that nobody ever sees. He grins at me, his eyes sparkling as he disappears inside. ‘Don’t move,’ he says, suddenly turning back and pointing a playfully stern finger at me.
I watch the space where he’s gone, waiting for him to come back, and I resist the urge to punch the air. Because I feel like I’m triumphant. I’ve won, after all.
He does care. He does feel about me like I do about him. It wasn’t all in my head. The relief, the elation, is indescribable.
He comes back with a bottle of water, which I drink greedily. He’s got a pad and a pencil. I know Edward feels it, too, because he keeps glancing at me and smiling. A deep, satisfied smile that just makes me want him all over again.
‘I want to draw you,’ he says. ‘I’ve wanted to since I caught you dancing.’
I settle into what I imagine, and hope, is a classical pose and I stare out to sea, feeling his attention as he stands, leaning up against the wooden wall of the cockpit with the pad and pencil. I want to speak, but there are no words to describe how brazen and wanton I feel. Like I’m Eve and I’ve just eaten the apple for the first time.
I want to savour every secret second of it.
I feel the breeze tickle across my nipples, making them hard. I breathe in the smell of the sea and the pungent smell of sex emanating from my skin, and the glorious moment lingers on and on.
Edward’s forehead is furrowed in concentration as the pencil moves across the pad. He looks boyish in his intensity and, even though he’s so much older and more sophisticated than me, right now I feel the pow
er balance is all my way. It’s a heady feeling.
When he’s busy shading, I move, but he doesn’t notice, he’s concentrating so hard. I creep forward along the padded bench on all fours, and duck underneath the drawing pad and take his cock in my fist.
‘What are you doing?’ he says, laughing.
‘If I see something unexpected, then I have to have it,’ I tease, quoting him and remembering how he was in the gallery.
Edward laughs and then sighs as I lean forward and run my tongue around the soft edges of his balls. I feel the soft skin pucker against my tongue. He’s hard now, his cock stiffening. I run my tongue up the length of it.
‘Oh God, that feels good,’ he says and I take the fat, delicious tip of him in my mouth, letting my lips caress and kiss him, like I’m snogging his cock. I make a low groan, running my tongue over the smooth, hard edge leading to his tip. He’s too delicious.
I feel the pad fall away and I look up at him.
‘What are you doing to me?’ he whispers and smiles a soft smile down at me.
‘Everything. I want to do everything with you,’ I tell him, resting him against the side of my mouth. I can see the blue sky behind his head. He has never looked more like a god.
58
When the wind picks up, the temperature drops and we hurry down below and squeeze up together in the shower cubicle in the cabin. He lathers up my hair and washes me.
He holds me close as the water dribbles over us.
‘I’m sorry about that night,’ he says, softly, stroking suds along my back. The way he touches me makes me feel like he’s trying to memorize me. I’ve never felt more cherished.
‘What night?’
‘When I made you go to bed. I felt terrible. I realized that night what was happening. What was happening to me? How I felt about you and . . .’
I kiss him then. I’m so touched by his confession.
‘It doesn’t matter,’ I tell him. Because it doesn’t. Not any more. We are right here, right now in this moment. Together. That’s all there is.
I remember then, him telling me that I would have a different view of sex once I had sex that had changed my life.
As I rest my head against his chest, clinging onto him, I know now what he meant.
And then it’s happening again. I feel him stiffen between us and I caress him in my hand.
He twists me around and I lean up against the shower wall as he enters me from behind. I gasp as he fills me up, holding my arms up, his fingers entwining with mine. He bites my earlobe and I know that his is the only body I ever want next to mine for the rest of my life.
But already I know that the stopped clock has started again. That the delicious pocket of time we’ve had is over. That we’re already racing towards an unknown future.
59
We don’t talk about what has happened as we sail back, because the journey is rougher. The boat bucks and dips, like it is refusing to go back to reality, too.
Back in our clothes, I guess we look as if everything is as it was this morning, and yet everything has changed.
Now my body knows his, it’s as if I can hardly bear the clothes against my skin. I want to be naked with him all over again. I put my hand over his on the tiller, running my fingers over his knuckles, memorizing the shape of the freckles on the back of his hand.
I sense our connection being broken as the harbour comes into view and I feel him tense. He starts issuing instructions about the sails.
When the last sail is in and the motor is on, and the boats come fully into view, I see the golf buggy coming along the jetty and I suspect there’ll be the same efficient journey back to Thousand Acres, but I know it’s going to take every ounce of my strength to step off the yacht and back onto land.
I think of the house, and of Marnie waving us off and of my room there, and I feel a sudden chill.
‘What are we going to do?’ I ask him. ‘I mean, how will it be?’
He looks deep into my eyes. ‘Oh, Sophie,’ he sighs, but something in his tone sets alarm bells ringing. ‘You have to know that this afternoon was magical for me. But I think we both know that it can’t happen again. You understand that, don’t you?’
I hear him say the words, watch his mouth move, but I can’t believe him. I refuse to believe what he’s saying.
‘No. I don’t understand anything any more. I don’t understand how I can feel like this, when I’ve only just met you.’
I stare at him, my eyes welling with tears, and I see that he looks emotional, too.
‘I’m sorry,’ he whispers and I know he is. But that doesn’t stop it being unbearable.
Surely it can’t just be a one-time thing? It feels too monumental for that. And he knows I’m thinking that, because he leans forward and puts his forehead against mine.
‘I feel it, too,’ he says. His voice is husky. ‘But we can’t ever be together like that again. There’s too much at risk. There’s . . .’
He doesn’t have to say it. He can’t say it, and neither can I. There’s Marnie, his kids and the fact that I work for him. And I know that he’s saying it, but I refuse to believe it.
I refuse to believe that he can’t ever be mine. That this is end, when it feels like the beginning.
60
The journey back in the helicopter is excruciating. I can’t bear to be next to Edward and not able to touch him. He’s stressed about the time, and that we’re late back to the house. He speaks to Marnie on his mobile and I pretend not to listen, but he’s his usual affectionate, charming self and she doesn’t suspect a thing. His voice doesn’t betray even the slightest hint of what has happened.
He sits in the front next to the pilot. We don’t speak at all and, as the helicopter lands on the grass at the back of the house, I know I’ve missed my chance for any further communication. I can’t look at him, as the pilot opens the door for me to get out and Edward offers me his hand as I jump down.
I see some people wave at us from the terrace. A couple. He has a pink cashmere jumper draped around his shoulders and she’s wearing a proper cocktail dress and heels. She holds onto her skirt and her champagne glass, as the rotors of the helicopter cause a windstorm. I can tell they are laughing – thrilled by the novelty of their host arriving like this.
But, then, I guess they’re used to it. These sophisticated people are Edward and Marnie’s friends. The kind of moneyed, cultured people who inhabit their world. Seeing them here makes the dream of this afternoon shatter like a mirror.
‘Hurry up, Ed,’ Marnie chides him, as we run in through the kitchen door. She’s wearing a light-blue translucent lace dress, which hugs her curves. She looks elegant and sexy at the same time. She’s got a tray of hot canapés that she’s about to plate up and the kitchen is filled with a delicious smell of roasting chicken. There’s no sign of Mrs Janey. Marnie, the perfect hostess, is doing this all herself.
‘Angelo’s got the most hilarious story about the auction in Singapore. You’ll die when you hear who was there,’ she says to Edward, before reaching up and kissing him on the cheek.
I glance through the kitchen to where a door I’ve never seen open has been pulled back to reveal a chic dining room. The candlelit table has been laid up with immaculate china set for four. There’s a beautiful flower arrangement in the middle and yet more fine artworks are illuminated on the wall. It’s breathtakingly sophisticated. Another red room, then.
‘You both look so sea-swept,’ Marnie laughs, looking at us both.
My cheeks sting from sunburn and from something else, too. Something much more painful that she can’t see. My eyes are tired from all the salt, and from the strain of not letting my hot tears fall.
‘Do you want to join us?’ she asks me. ‘Dinner is nearly ready.’ Her smile is open and friendly. She doesn’t suspect a thing. But why would she? Why would she ever suspect that Edward would betray her with someone like me?
I shake my head. She’s just trying to be polite, but I k
now she doesn’t want me there. Besides, I can’t sit around that table making small talk with Edward, Marnie and their friends. Not after what happened today.
‘Thank you, that’s really kind, but I’m going to take a shower.’
‘What have you done to Miss Henshaw?’ Marnie says, punching Edward playfully. ‘She looks exhausted.’
‘All that sea air. Miss Henshaw is a fine sailor,’ Edward says. He doesn’t look at me.
‘The boys will be thrilled at that news,’ Marnie says, with a knowing look at Edward. ‘Rather her than me.’
But already I don’t want ever to go back on that yacht, unless it is a repeat of today.
‘I’ll catch you later then,’ I say, lamely, watching as Edward steals one of the delicious-looking canapés from Marnie’s tray. He puts his arm up to wave at me, but still doesn’t meet my eye.
Then he puts his arm around Marnie’s shoulder and walks with her towards the terrace, calling out a friendly greeting to his friends.
61
I take a long bath and carefully sponge down all the places where Edward kissed my body today.
I take in a shuddery breath as I lie back in the steaming bubbles, picturing myself as he made love to me in the sunshine, and then in the shower. And now we’re back and he’s downstairs with his guests and Marnie, like it never happened. I feel a tragic sense of loss that I can’t deal with.
I’ve really gone and done it this time. I’ve really gone and got myself into one hideous, enormous scrape. What am I going to do? Am I going to stay here and look after the boys, and pretend this afternoon never happened? Can we both really keep such a momentous secret?