by Jana Aston
‘More wine?’
I nod, grateful at the thought of something blessedly cool as I watch Ryan haul himself up and head into the kitchenette. For a moment I lie completely still in the firelight, naked with my legs open, one arm flung over my head. If all wedding nights are like this, I can see why that marriage thing catches on.
I watch him, illuminated by the tiny light from inside the fridge. He’s beautiful in different ways. I mean, yeah, he’s eye-wateringly hot, but there’s more to him, more than muscles and stupidly long eyelashes. I like how self-contained he is. There’s a quiet, unshakable strength to him that I didn’t see straight away because he hides it beneath a cloak of wisecracks and big-I-am bravado.
Checking if my legs still work, I stand up and follow him through to the kitchenette, resting my ass on the scrubbed wooden table as he turns to me with the wine bottle in his hand.
‘Too thirsty to wait?’ he asks, then passes the icy bottle over my nipples, making me gasp. I shake my head and take the bottle from him, placing it down behind me as I hook my legs around his thighs and pull him in.
‘It’s like that already, huh?’ he asks knowingly, his pupils dilating as he reaches into the back pocket of his jeans. Leaning into my ear, he whispers, ‘Want to know a secret?’
I’m intrigued, and try to pull back to look at him, but he holds me in place. ‘Brad slipped me this as I left the studio.’
He presses something into my hand, and I look down and see a silver-foiled condom with a post-it note attached. I look closer and see that it says ‘something borrowed, just in case, mate.’
‘He’s a copper.’ Ryan half laughs. ‘He likes to be prepared for all eventualities.’
I glance down at the condom. ‘Looks like you are, too.’
He stares at me for a few still, loaded seconds, as if he’s battling with himself to make a decision. I safely assume that he’s made it when he lowers his head and licks my nipples, slippery hot as he suckles, then straightens again and tilts my head back and kisses me like a hunted man. Hard. Open mouthed. Dangerous. Filthy hot and incredibly sexual, and I realise that we’re about to have the kind of blistering hot sex that you don’t think actually happens to real people.
‘Fuck, Ryan,’ I say, because he’s dropped his hand between my legs and this time when he touches my clit he’s not as gentle as before, and I love it. He’s fast, frantic almost, and I’m unbuckling his jeans and popping the buttons so he can shove them down.
‘Christ all fucking mighty,’ he mutters when his cock springs into my hands, hot, thick and heavy. I don’t even have to look down to know that it’s every bit as impressive as the rest of him. I want to slide onto my knees and let him feed it down my throat, feel him lose it in my mouth. Later. I will, later, because he just gave me the best head of my life and I want to make him feel that good too, but right now there isn’t the time because we’re both so desperate to fuck. His breath is fast and shallow in his throat as he rips the silver foil open with his teeth, his hands tangling with mine on his cock when he rolls the condom on in one fluid move.
I’m glad he kicked his jeans off, because he’s able to pick me up and turn me, so my back is pressed against the cold fridge door, and when he positions himself in and moves his hips, he slides inside me in one screamingly hard, pleasurable, bone tingling thrust.
‘Holy shit,’ I gasp, wrapping all of my limbs tight around him. ‘Do me fast, Ryan.’
‘So fucking good,’ he says, ramming me, groaning, his fingers digging into my ass cheeks where he’s holding me up. Jesus, he’s a machine. Rena was right. I’m being fucked by the Hulk; this is full on superhero level sex. I can’t open my legs wide enough; I want him so deep and so fast that I almost gouge the skin of his shoulders open with my short fingernails.
‘Connie, I…’ He’s coated in a sheen of sweat, sliding on me, and I know he can’t hold on much longer. I don’t want him to. This kind of sex is supposed to be fast.
‘Come inside me,’ I whisper, urgent, wrapping my arms around his neck and sinking my teeth into his bottom lip, holding him against me. ‘Come in me, I want to feel you lose it.’ He’s banging so hard against my clit, pounding into me. I’m going to come so violently that I think he might sex-kill me. I honestly don’t care. I want this orgasm more than I want to see tomorrow.
He hulk-beats his fist against the fridge as he comes like a goddamn freight train, dragging me down the track with him to orgasm central. We bang, and we gasp as we get off on each other, relief so piercing and scary-good that tears spill down my face.
He’s gentle now. Holding me, carrying me to the big brass bed in the corner of the room. I don’t even try to get down out of his arms, just wrap on him like a koala bear as he pulls the covers back and lowers us in. The three bears sure knew what they were doing with this one room living thing. Who needs an upstairs or a bedroom, really? I might buy myself a caravan when all of this is over. Rooms are over-rated.
He’s talking to me, quiet words in my ear as he spoons around me in the dying firelight, and my eyelids are drifting down. Even if I live to be a hundred, I don’t think I’ll experience a more genuinely blissed out sensation than this.
And that’s when the words appear on the TV screen.
YOU DID A VERY BAD THING.
Chapter 9
SEX BEFORE MARRIAGE IS A SIN.
I yelp and jolt upright, dragging the blankets with me.
WHAT DID YOU SAY TO NATALIE, WHORE?
‘What the actual fuck?’ Ryan is wide awake too and on his feet in an instant, dragging his jeans up his legs.
‘Get dressed, Connie. Now.’ He chucks the zombie-bride dress at me, and I wriggle into it, my heart racing as I stare at the TV screen. Ryan is behind me hooking the dress closed before I can even get the words out to ask him for help, and I take a moment to fill him in on the Sean/Natalie situation from this morning. Evidently, Natalie took my advice and confided in Sean about her previous lovers. In hindsight, she should have probably gone with Rena’s fake Halloween blood option.
I find my knickers and have just worked them past my knees when Ryan looks at me and tells me to get them off again.
‘Christ, Ryan? You’re finding this horny?’ I half shout. ‘We could be in mortal danger here!’
He scans the floor and finds his own discarded trunks, then clambers up onto the corner cupboard and hooks them over the camera lens. Ah. Not horny. Clever.
I pick up my bra from the floor and pass it to him, nodding towards the camera in the far corner. It’s the work of seconds for him to cover it, and instantly a new message comes up on the screen.
SERIOUSLY? YOU THINK YOU CAN HIDE FROM ME?
Oh, God.
‘Yes. Yes, I do, fucker.’ Ryan gathers up as many scraps of material as he can find in the cabin and works his way around every camera in the place as I prevaricate between helping him pull off pillowcases, staring at the TV screen, and saying my prayers even though I’m not religious.
I wish I knew the time. I don’t want to go out there in the dark, but dawn is probably hours away, and we have no clue where the hell we even are.
MY WIFE DIED. BOO FUCKING HOO.
‘Oh my God. Ryan,’ I say, clapping my hand over my cheeks at the offensive words on the screen. He stares at them for a few silent seconds, and his hands close into fists at his sides. If he were the Hulk, this would be his moment to burst out of his shirt and turn green. He looks angry enough.
‘He’s taunting you because he can’t see us anymore,’ I whisper, laying my hand on his arm.
‘I’m going to fucking kill him,’ he says. I don’t doubt it for a second.
OH LOOK. MY TITS FELL OUT. IF YOU LET ME WIN I’LL LET YOU FUCK ME. PROSTITUTE.
Ryan’s fingers slide into mine, and he pulls me into the bathroom and slams the door.
‘Okay. We’ve got a bit of a situation here. We don’t know where we are, and he does,’ he says, quiet and completely in control.
; I whimper, even though I want to stay strong. ‘Do you think he’s going to kill us?’
‘No one’s killing you on my watch. I promise.’
You know something? I totally believe him. I take a second to pull myself together, to reconnect with my inner Boudicca. I mentally paint warrior stripes on my face and nod, rolling my shoulders.
Ryan digs into his pocket and pulls out his pager, motioning for me to be silent when I go to speak. I was only going to tell him that he’s a genius, but I hold it in.
Brad? Are you there? Urgent help required.
We stand and stare at the tiny machine, and relief washes through me when the small grey screen lights up a minute or so later.
Still hiding from me, fuckers? Come out, come out, wherever you are.
It’s no good. I’m not Boudicca. I’m so terrified that I think I’ve just let out a bit of wee.
‘We need to get out of here, Connie.’
I shake my head, swallowing hard. I want to stay in this room where I can see the only exit.
‘Is it part of the game show, do you think?’ Even as I say it, I know it’s not true. That unkind barb about Ryan’s wife isn’t entertaining on any level.
‘How long would you say we were in the helicopter for this morning?’ he asks me, dead calm. ‘Think really carefully before you answer.’
I close my eyes and concentrate. ‘About ten or eleven minutes?’
He nods. ‘I thought ten too. So we must be about forty miles south of central London.’
I don’t know how he knows that. I don’t want to die forty miles from home.
‘Edge of the South Downs, most probably,’ he says. ‘Guildford, Farnham, that way.’
‘I’ve been here before!’ I say, surprised. ‘About five years ago, for the weekend…’ I trail off, because it’s a huge area and all I can remember of the weekend away is the hotel bedroom ceiling and sex in the Jacuzzi, neither of which is going to help us very much right now.
‘So have I,’ he says. ‘I used to live here.’
I’m not entirely sure, but I think I just fell in love with the Hulk.
He closes his eyes and sits down on the closed loo seat, his head in his hands. ‘Just give me a second, I need to think.’
I lean against the door with my arms wrapped around my ribcage, listening out for any sounds outside.
‘Right,’ he says, getting up and pacing. ’My best guess is that we’re in Alice Holt Forest. It’s a few miles out of Farnham and big enough for something like this to be constructed and hidden away for filming purposes.’ He glances down at my trainers. ‘How are you at hiking?’
‘In the dark with a murderer on the loose in the woods?’ I ask. ‘Pretty rubbish!’
Ryan takes me by the shoulders. ‘He isn’t a murderer. He’s a pissed off thirtysomething virgin with a clipboard and no prospects. It’s not the same.’
I summon Sean up in my head and Ryan’s right. He was no He-Man. I could probably take him in a fight. Oh, but hang on.
‘What if he has a gun?’
Ryan stares at me and doesn’t let go of my shoulders. ‘He doesn’t have a gun. Think about it. This isn’t pre-planned. He’s clearly reacting to the fact that his girlfriend isn’t Snow White after all. It’s news to him, I seriously doubt he’s thought beyond collecting in the pagers and deciding to mess with our heads. He’s most likely sitting in the studio right now, Billy No Mates, getting off on trying to be the big man because he feels safe.’
He’s making complete sense. ‘So why are we going to hike in the woods rather than stay put?’
Ryan hesitates, but then we both go absolutely still, because one of the windows in the cabin has just shattered.
‘Stay in here, lock the door, and don’t come out under any circumstances. Are you completely clear on that?’ He shoves me behind the door and unlocks it as silently and slowly as if he’s diffusing a bomb. He’s seamlessly morphed from Hulk to John McClane in a heartbeat.
‘No way,’ I hiss. ‘You go, I go.’ I’m not being brave, I’m terrified of being left alone. He looks at me, exasperated.
‘You’re a pain in the ass, do you know that?’
‘Still coming with you.’
‘On three, I’m going to open the door and leave this room. Stay behind me and do as I do. Got that?’
I nod. I can count to three.
‘Ready?’
No, I think, I’m definitely not. ‘Yes,’ I whisper.
‘Good girl.’ He leans in, kisses me full on the mouth, and then opens the bathroom door.
He scans the room through the crack, and then inches out with his back pressed against the wall. I copy him move for move, my legs like jelly, my fingers hooked over the top of his jeans for security.
The window furthest away from us has been broken, but not enough for anyone to have come through. Ryan steps forwards, moving me behind him as he follows the wall around and checks the kitchenette. It’s pitch dark in here, there’s very little light left from the fire, and there’s no moon tonight. At least that means no one can see in, either.
Thankfully, both the front and the back doors are still locked; there’s no one in here but us.
‘Clear,’ he mutters, and I heave a sigh of relief that the threat isn’t immediate. ‘Stay away from the windows.’
The horrible idea of Sean having a gun and blowing my brains out is enough to make me do as I’m told. I don’t want to meet my death dressed like this. Sliding down the wall by the front door, I wait, quiet and watchful.
Ryan’s eyes sweep the shaded room until he finds what he’s looking for; the object hurled through the window. Joining me by the door, he hunkers down and shows me the rock with a note crudely fastened to it by an elastic band.
‘Someone’s watched too many B-movies,’ he mutters, pulling the paper free.
Wobbly tits.
I have to read it twice because it’s so not what I expected.
‘Does it say wobbly tits?’ I ask, incredulous, hysterical laughter bubbling in my throat.
Ryan looks at me, and I can see the same what-the-hell reflected in his eyes.
‘For the record, your tits are fucking perfect,’ he says. ‘Like creamy, delicious panna cotta.’
Is it wrong that I’m turned on by the flare of heat in his eyes? I look at his mouth and want to snog him until daybreak. I don’t give a fuck about Sean any more. What kind of murderer writes wobbly tits? I take the note from Ryan, fully intending to tuck it into my bodice and suggest that we spend the rest of the night here in the corner and make out.
I’ll give Sean wobbly tits when I catch hold of him. I’ll smother him with them.
‘Is there something else written on the back?’ Ryan frowns, taking the note from me again. I almost laugh, wondering what other childish insults Sean has come up with.
She probably threw herself in front of that car to get away from you, prick.
We read the scribbled words, and I stop laughing and wonder if Sean has a death wish. Ryan jumps up, properly angry this time, and he wrenches the front door open so hard that he breaks the lock and leaves it swinging on its hinges.
‘Get in here and face me, you fucking stupid shit,’ he yells, standing in the doorway. He fills the frame, magnificent in his bare chested fury. I’m close behind him, on my feet now and genuinely fearful of the dark, eerie unknown. Cold air creeps over my bones as we stand and stare out into the black night. It’s the most hideous feeling of nervous anticipation I’ve ever experienced, like spiders crawling all over me or a snake wrapping itself around my ankle in bed. I blink, trying to adapt to the extra level of darkness out there, when there’s sudden movement, and someone stumbles from the woods and runs towards us.
Natalie.
She’s bleeding from a nasty graze on her temple, and her hands are bound so tightly that the rope is cutting into her skin.
‘Help me,’ she begs, hoarse, her neon striped tights ripped and her mascara all down her cheeks. ‘He�
��s gone crazy. He put me in the boot of the car.’
I’m guessing that Sean hadn’t counted on her getting out of there any time soon, because he comes rampaging out of the tree line and flies at her, and at us.
‘Get back to the fucking car,’ he shouts, lunging for her. She cowers behind me, and Ryan swings his fist straight into Sean’s jaw, sending him reeling onto his ass. I’m actually glad he’s out in the open now where we can see him, because he’d taken on Freddy Krueger-ish capabilities in my head when he was taunting us from afar. Right now, he looks more like an angry schoolboy scrabbling around in the dirt than a knife-fingered murderer.
‘Not such a big man now, huh?’ Ryan says, advancing on him across the clearing. ‘Is that the best you can do, picking on girls?’
’She deserved it, slag.’ Sean leans around Ryan to stare at Natalie, whose standing beside me rubbing her red-raw wrists. ‘Slut.’ He looks up at Ryan, his eyes bulging. ‘Twelve men she’s fucked. Twelve.’
‘Good for her for not letting you make it thirteen, bully,’ I shout. I might take a swing at him myself when Ryan’s finished.
‘I’d rather be a bully than a wife murderer,’ Sean spits, getting unsteadily to his feet.
God, he really is even more stupid than he looks. Ryan doesn’t even let him stand up; he punches him hard in the guts, sending him flying again.
‘That was for Melissa,’ he says, looming over Sean. ‘And this,’ he picks Sean up by the shirt lapels and holds him up so he can punch him again. ‘This is for Natalie. You don’t treat women like that, scumbag.’
Sean yowls and grips his guts, and Natalie winces next to me. I put my arms around her shoulders to stop her shaking.
‘And this one is for Connie.’ His fist connects with Sean’s chin again, and this time when he goes down Ryan drops and straddles him, gripping Sean’s chin hard in his hand.
‘You frightened her. You called her names.’ He lowers his face to within an inch of Sean’s. ‘And you insulted her tits, which makes you the world’s biggest stupid fucking idiot.’
I cross my arms across my chest and look at Natalie, indignant. ‘It’s true. He called me wobbly tits.’