by Mandy Lee
Eventually, he pulls away. Easing my legs further apart and positioning himself between my thighs, he guides his cock inside me. As soon as he begins to move, I’m only too aware that I’ve become hypersensitive. My muscles begin to flutter again, sending warm ripples of pleasure right into my core. Arching his body above mine and resting one elbow on the mattress, he slides his free hand beneath my back, drawing me up to him. And with his eyes fixed on mine, he falls into a slow, steady rhythm, taking his time, working at one angle and then shifting himself slightly so that my insides spasm at each new new sensation.
Minutes pass by in quiet oblivion. I run my fingers through his hair, across his shoulders, his back, his firm buttocks, urging him into me. And the rhythm continues unabated, while the pressure builds inside me one more time. Sensing that I’m close to the edge, he stops for a moment or two, allowing me to calm my muscles. And then he begins again, pumping his cock into me at a steady, lazy pace. I will myself not to come, not until I sense that moment in him. Gazing up at his face, I wait for the signs. And at last, after what seems like an eternity, they come. His pupils dilate, his breath begins to unravel, his hands tighten against my skin, and his thrusts become urgent. I know it’s time. Releasing myself, I trip over the edge into ecstasy, falling into a deep, all-consuming orgasm that undulates inside me and clutches at his cock. Over and over again, as he empties himself, gasping for breath and fighting back the need to cry out, the aftershocks keep coming. And we hold each other tight, touching foreheads, steadying each other through the intensity of it all. And I get the strangest feeling. It’s as if I’m falling into a delicious abyss from which I can never escape. It’s as if we’re sharing our souls.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
‘Pick me up in the car later,’ I plead. Standing on the pavement outside my flat, swathed in the heat, I’m struggling to unzip the leathers. ‘Don’t make me put this stuff on again. It’s ridiculous.’
He takes off his helmet, swings himself off the bike and begins to help me out.
‘This stuff keeps you safe,’ he mutters. ‘You’re mine now, every last bit of you, and I’m not putting you at risk.’
‘Then pick me up in the car.’
‘Relax.’ Fiddling with the zip, he’s fully focused on the job in hand. ‘Ah, done it.’ He unzips the front of the jacket and pulls it over my shoulders, leaving it to hang from my waist while he gives his best shot at straightening out the dress. And then he locks me in with those blue irises. Immediately, I’m a swooning idiot.
‘Can’t I just come back with you now?’
He shakes his head, drops to his knees and sets about unbuckling my boots.
‘Not a good idea.’
He taps my feet, one at a time, and I lift them, allowing him to remove the boots.
‘I won’t bother you.’
‘I’ve got a shed load of work to do. If you’re lazing about on my sofa, I’ll just want to fuck you.’ He arches an eyebrow and pulls the leather trousers down, slowly, running his tongue across his bottom lip. ‘Better you stay here for a bit and get some painting done.’
‘I don’t see why you have to work on a Sunday.’
Holding on to his broad shoulders, I lift one leg at a time while he peels the trousers over my feet.
‘CEO of a building company and all that shit.’ He shrugs. ‘I’ll get it done as quickly as I can and then we’ll be clear for the evening. I’ll pick you up at five … in the Merc. I can’t get the Jag back until next week.’
I let out a sigh. I’m clearly getting nowhere with my plan to get him to fuck me senseless for the entire afternoon. I’ll just have to do as I’m told. And maybe that’s not such a bad thing. Maybe I’ll start on my next painting. There’s already the seed of an idea growing in my mind: a kitchen garden, brimming with sweet peas. A present for Dan.
‘And pack a bag.’
‘Why?’
‘Because you’re staying over at mine.’ Gathering together the boots and the leathers, he straightens up. And then he leans in, skimming his lips across mine. ‘I may be your boyfriend, or your man, or whatever you want to call me, Maya, but I still want you back in those cuffs.’
My heartbeat jumps up a notch or two, and while the sex fairy sets about tweaking just about every nerve and fibre between my legs, something half-expected sparks to life in my chest. It’s as if a fire’s been set. Radiating outwards from my heart, the heat grows quickly, gaining in intensity at an alarming rate. Suddenly, I know exactly what it is that I’m feeling. And I need to tell him. I can’t contain the words any longer. Gazing up into his eyes, I’m on the verge of saying something stupid when the front door is wrenched open.
‘You’ve got to get in here,’ Lucy hisses.
I swivel round to find her on the doorstep, distinctly dishevelled in her dressing gown, her hair a matted mess.
‘What’s wrong?’ I demand.
‘Bitchface is here,’ she growls, her face contorting itself into a look of pure distaste. ‘And there’s all this wet stuff coming out of her eyes. You’ve got to rescue us.’
‘Us?’
‘Me and Clive. We’ve had her blubbing all over us for the past hour. Get in here now!’
With a wave of an arm, Lucy disappears back inside the flat, leaving the front door wide open.
‘Who’s Bitchface?’ Dan asks.
I turn to find him staring into the hallway, a broad smile spread across his face.
‘My sister.’
In an instant, the smile disintegrates. His lips part. He glances back at the motorbike.
‘You finally get to meet the root cause of all my problems.’
He shakes his head. Clearly, he wants to make an escape, but I’m not having any of it. While half of me is disappointed that Sara’s chucked a massive spanner into the works, the other half’s quietly excited to show off Dan to my sister, to rub her face in my happiness while she’s at her lowest ebb. I know it’s juvenile and I know it’s wrong, but I just can’t help myself … even after all these years.
‘Come on,’ I urge him.
I don’t care what’s eating him right now. He’s got to learn that he can’t get his own way all the time. Making sure that he’s following me, I watch as he veers away into my bedroom to offload the leathers, and then I press on into the living room where I’m greeted by Clive. Standing by the window with his hands in his pockets, he tosses me a curt smile before he nods towards the sofa where Lucy’s busy comforting a crumpled body.
‘Sara?’
At the sound of my voice, she gets to her feet and turns to face me. It’s been a good few months since I last saw her, but something seems to have taken its toll along the way. She’s thinner now, gaunt even, and she’s a complete mess. Dressed in a pair of baggy jeans and a frumpy T-shirt, her blonde hair hangs limply around her face, framing a mass of blotchy skin and a pair of reddened, pig-like eyes.
‘I’m sorry, Maya,’ she sobs. ‘Me and Geoff had the most almighty argument. I just stormed out. I didn’t know where else to go. I couldn’t go to Mum and Dad’s. I didn’t want to upset them.’
‘It’s okay.’
Overcome by a sudden dose of sisterly love and instantly regretting my plan to showboat, I edge my way around the sofa and wrap her in my arms. She may well have been the bitch from hell in her youth, I remind myself, but when all’s said and done she’s still my flesh and blood.
‘It’s not okay,’ she complains into my shoulder. After keeping her head buried there for a minute or two, she finally straightens up and with the back of her hand, wipes all manner of bodily fluids away from her face. Sucking in a deep breath, she seems to steel herself before firing out the next words. ‘It’s awful, Maya. It’s just fucking awful. We’re constantly arguing and he’s a total shit these days. I don’t even feel like I know him any more. And he doesn’t care. I just need some time to myself. Can I stay here for a few days? Please?’
‘Of course you can.’ I glance at Lucy to find her mouth
ing the word ‘no’ as if her life depends on it. ‘Where are the kids?’
‘They’re at home. I left them with the bastard. He can look after them for a change. I needed some space. I’m sorry. I should have phoned but I wasn’t thinking straight. And you didn’t answer my texts.’
‘Well,’ Lucy sighs. ‘We’ll leave you two in peace for a bit, shall we? Come on, Clive.’
I watch as Lucy slopes out of the living room, dragging a disgruntled-looking Clive in her wake. And then I hear a low, muffled conversation in the hallway.
‘I’m being a pain in the arse.’ My sister fights back a sob.
‘No, you’re not.’ I touch her on the arm. ‘You can sleep on the sofa for a day or two. I’ll see if I can get tomorrow off work and we can talk this through.’
‘It’s all such short notice.’
‘Don’t worry. We’ll sort something out.’
‘I owe you …’
Her voice fades as her eyes latch on to something behind me. When I turn to see what’s going on, I find Dan in the doorway, holding his helmet in one hand, his leathers unzipped to his waist. I catch my breath at the sight of him, but he hardly notices me. Instead, his attention is fixed on my sister.
‘Who’s this?’ she smiles.
‘This is Dan.’
Circling her way around the sofa, she reaches out to greet him, but she gets nothing in return. He doesn’t speak. He doesn’t smile. He simply stares down at her hand. And I can barely believe the change in the man. He’s transformed: from relaxed and playful to solid ice in less than five minutes flat.
‘Dan,’ I prompt him, sensing an edge of anger in my gut. ‘This is Sara, my sister.’
Without a word, while the seconds stretch themselves out to breaking point, he continues to stare at the hand. At last, he lifts his line of vision and begins to take in her face. Smile back, for fuck’s sake, I will him silently. At least shake her hand. Show some sodding manners! But he doesn’t. Instead, he simply studies her features, as if she’s a painting that he can’t quite fathom.
‘Hi Dan.’ She’s mesmerised by those eyes now. I can see that quite clearly. But it doesn’t last for long. I watch as the smile disappears, as she withdraws her hand and takes a step backwards. ‘Have … we … met somewhere before?’
While a frown lands on my forehead, my brain flips into overdrive. Delving back through Dan’s interrogations, it skims its way over his strange obsession with Sara. If they had met before, then that would certainly go a long way to explaining everything.
‘No,’ he answers coldly, putting a halt to my train of thought.
‘Well …’ She falters and seems to flinch. ‘It’s nice to meet you now.’
‘Is it?’ He glares at her for a moment or two. ‘I need to go.’
Without another word, and without so much as acknowledging me, he turns on his heels and walks out of the room.
‘What the hell was that all about?’ my sister breathes.
‘I don’t know.’ Just getting the words out takes every last ounce of self-control. I’m simmering with rage and all I want to do is scream. ‘Give me a minute. I need to speak to him.’
Abandoning my sister in the living room, I stride out into the hallway. By the time I catch him just outside the front door, I’ve gone from a simmer to a full-on boil. Grabbing hold of his arm, I tug him round.
‘You can’t talk to my sister like that. You were bloody rude just then, Dan. It was out of order.’
‘Was it?’ He runs his fingers through his hair and stares at the ground, his face a mask.
‘Yes it was. What’s she ever done to you? What’s got into you, Dan?’
Without looking up, he fastens the zip on his leathers.
‘Nothing.’
‘Something has. Five minutes ago, you were Mr Wonderful and now look at you. You’re behaving like a shit.’
And that does it. The mask gives way. Crumbling to pieces in an instant, it leaves nothing in its place but pure rage. He points a trembling finger at me.
‘I am not behaving like a shit,’ he seethes. ‘I’ve got to go.’
Reeling from the shock of his outburst, I follow him across the pavement, back to his bike, watching as he swings his leg over the beast. I’m not letting him get away that easily.
‘She thought you’d met before.’
‘Well she was wrong.’
‘So what is it then? Why are you so angry with her? Is it because of the way she treated me when we were kids?’ He shakes his head, but I ignore his denial. After all, it’s the only plausible explanation. ‘It’s not your battle to fight, Dan. It’s mine.’
‘I know it is.’
‘And what about tonight?’
‘What about it?’ He shrugs on his gloves. ‘You’ll be with her.’
I laugh. So that’s it then? He’s plunged into an almighty grump simply because my sister’s put the kibosh on his plans for the evening? Well, I suppose I should have expected it. After all, he is a control freak. But if the idiot thinks he can get away with acting like a two year old, then he’s got one hell of a wake-up call on the way.
‘We need to talk about this,’ I inform him, swallowing back the urge to call him a twat.
‘Do we?’
‘Yes, we do. Tomorrow night.’
‘I can’t. I’m busy.’
‘You’re busy?’ I stare at him, fumbling for words, registering a tiny shiver of fear as it passes right through me, permeating every single vein and sinew and nerve. I’ve seen that look in a man’s eyes before. I saw it in Tom’s eyes. The day he told me it was over. ‘So when will I see you again?’ I ask, disgusted at the weakness in my own voice.
He pulls on his helmet and fastens the buckle beneath his chin.
‘I don’t know. I need some time to myself.’ He waits a few seconds before he flings the final insult in my direction. ‘This was a bad idea.’
I have no time to ask him what the fuck he means by that. Before I can open my mouth, he flips down his visor, turns the key in the ignition, kicks up the stand and manoeuvres the bike out into the road. With a flick of the wrist, he accelerates away from me, rounding the corner onto Camden High Street and disappearing from view. And I’m left there, standing by the roadside, listening to the roar of the motorbike as it melts away into the din of North London’s traffic. And I don’t know whether it’s shock, or anger, or a combination of the two. But I begin to shake.
***
At last, after a good five minutes spent rooted to the spot, I finally manage to rouse myself. I’m on autopilot now. I’ve tidied away my emotions, cramming them into some dark cupboard at the back of my mind and slamming the door shut. It’s the only way to get through the day. Shuffling back inside the flat, I discover that Sara’s migrated to the kitchen where she’s perched herself at the rickety table. With a nod in her direction, I open the fridge door and let out a thankful sigh when I find a bottle of wine.
‘Want a glass?’ I ask, rescuing the bottle.
‘But it’s only eleven thirty.’
‘And?’
‘I know you’re pissed off right now, Maya, but you don’t need to drown your sorrows.’
‘Oh come on, Sara. Live a little. The men in our lives are dicks. Let’s get pissed.’
I hold up the bottle in front of her face, waving it from side to side.
She frowns. ‘Okay then.’ She waggles a finger at me. ‘But don’t make a habit of this.’
I retrieve a couple of glasses from the draining board, set them on the table and fill them to the brim.
‘I’m sorry,’ Sara groans, picking up a glass. ‘I’ve ruined your day.’
‘He’s the one who’s ruined my day.’
I slump into the chair opposite my sister, pick up my own glass and swig back half of the contents in one go.
‘What’s wrong with him?’ she ventures.
‘No idea.’
‘Is it because he was expecting to have you all to himself?’
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br /> ‘I don’t know …’ And I really don’t.
‘Well, I don’t think he likes me.’ She turns the glass around on the table. ‘Why is that?’
I shake my head, knock back the rest of the wine and pour myself a second glass.
‘You recognised him.’ Somewhere in the darkest recesses of my brain, neurons seem to have fired. My brain is back in action. ‘You asked him if you’d met before.’
She shrugs. ‘I don’t know. He just seemed familiar, that’s all. I couldn’t put my finger on it.’ She takes another sip of wine. ‘What’s his full name?’
‘Daniel Foster.’
She shakes her head. ‘That doesn’t ring a bell. And he’s bloody gorgeous. I’m sure I’d remember if I had met him before. Where’s he from?’
‘Grew up in Surrey. Parents owned a building company. They died. He took over. It’s where I’m working at the minute.’
‘He’s your boss?’
‘Yes.’
‘Holy shit, and you’re …? He’s your boyfriend?’
‘Perhaps.’
I take another swig of wine, reminding myself that if a man’s truly boyfriend material, then he doesn’t storm off when your sister turns up out of the blue.
‘What’s going on?’
I’m jolted out of my reverie by Lucy’s voice. Glancing up at the kitchen doorway, I find her standing in it, backed up by an incredibly serious looking accountant.
‘Dan’s gone,’ I inform them.
‘What?’ Lucy gawps.
‘He took one look at Sara and stormed off.’
Clive manoeuvres himself around Lucy and into the kitchen.
‘Clive,’ I sigh. ‘Can you explain this?’
He leans back against the sink. ‘No, I can’t.’
‘You don’t have any idea what would make him do that?’