by JD Nixon
“Thanks, honey. That’s so sweet.”
“I’m glad you’ve broken up with him. Now you can spend more time with me,” he said in his brutally honest way.
I half-smiled and made to ruffle his hair, but he dodged me skilfully. I asked both Niq and Daniel not to tell anyone else about what had happened. I didn’t feel like talking about it any more and I would tell everyone in my own time. And by that we all knew I meant Heller.
The devil himself walked into the office, a bundle of papers in his hand. He frowned when he saw me and came over to my desk, pointedly looking at his watch. I looked back at him unhappily.
“Matilda, what time is this to be coming to work? I was up late last night too, but I managed to get here on time,” he rebuked.
“Sorry,” I said bleakly, and put my head down to work on my report for Yoni’s account for the rest of the afternoon. That night in bed I cried myself to sleep again thinking back over my time with Will.
Chapter 26
The next week dragged. I cried myself to sleep every night and during the day was dull-witted and lacking in concentration and enthusiasm. Heller grew angry at the amount of typos and errors in my work, calling me into his office one afternoon. He threw my latest report back across the desk at me and told me that it was sloppy, poorly written and unprofessional. Then he told me to get my act together or he’d put me on filing duties for a week.
I burst into tears and fled the office back to the haven of my flat. I’d barely thrown myself on my bed to give my pillow another good soaking, before he walked into my bedroom, uninvited.
“Go away!” I screamed at him through my tears.
“Matilda, what’s the matter with you lately?” he asked in exasperation. “I was angry with your work for a very good reason and Daniel and Niq looked at me as though I’m a monster. What’s going on?”
“Will dumped me. He cheated on me and used me and found someone better than me. That’s what the matter is. Now leave me alone!” I shouted incoherently, my head buried in my pillow.
“Oh.” He sat heavily on my bed. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know. Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I tried to tell you!” I screamed at him. “You were the first person I went to, but you weren’t home. You’re never home. And you haven’t even noticed I was upset, because you don’t care any more.”
He put his hand on my shoulder. I shrugged it off.
“Get lost, Heller! I don’t want to look at you and I don’t want to talk to you.”
He stood up. “I care a great deal about you, Matilda. More than you’d ever imagine,” he said quietly. “You know that.”
“I don’t know anything any more,” I wailed into my pillow.
He stood looking down at me for a minute before leaving, closing my door gently. I cried myself to sleep with tiredness and emotion, and woke up to someone banging on my door. I flung the door open and groaned when I saw Farrell standing there.
I slammed the door shut on him. It wouldn’t close because he’d inserted his runner between the door and doorjamb.
“You’re late again,” he snapped. “Get your fat arse down to the gym now. I haven’t got all night.”
“Do I look like I want to train tonight?” I screamed at him, my tear-stained face and wild hair a study in bleak desolation.
He regarded me impassively for a moment and spoke quietly. “No, but it looks as though you have some strong emotions you need to work out. Come on. It’ll do you good. Better than feeling sorry for yourself.”
I stared at him and he looked back steadily. I gave a watery sniff and heaved a giant sigh. He was probably right.
“Okay,” I said more calmly. “Give me five minutes please, Hugh. I’m a bit of a mess at the moment.” He nodded and walked away.
He waited patiently in the gym for me, but didn’t give me any leeway during our session, working me harder than he’d ever done before. I struggled to do what he ordered, which only made him more demanding, forcing me to repeat manoeuvres over and over. I grew increasingly angry at him, at Will, at Heller and at my horrible life. I tried one particularly difficult manoeuvre at least five times, but kept stuffing it up.
“Put your brain into gear, Chalmers!” Farrell shouted at me. “You’re embarrassing yourself.”
That was my final straw. I ran over to him and started pummelling his chest violently with my fists, taking out all of my rage and pain on him. He bore it for a little while but then grabbed my wrists. I thrashed against him, flailing wildly, trying to keep pounding him. He pulled me in close to his chest and crushed me up against him in a bear hug, both arms around me.
“Stop it! Calm down! You’re going to hurt yourself, woman,” he shouted as I struggled even more against him. He tightened his grip until I was unable to move, fully entrapped in his strong arms. I was caught, immobile, my breathing heavy and rapid, still burning with fury. Slowly I began to calm down, but he maintained his firm hold on me, moving one hand up to my neck to gently push my face onto his shoulder, his hand on the back of my head. It took a while, but I relaxed against him, closing my eyes, driving thoughts of everyone else from my mind. Instead I concentrated on him, on the hardness of his body, the bulges and curves of his muscles and his masculine smell.
“What’s driving you so crazy?” he whispered in my ear once I was still and breathing normally. His voice was incredibly calming.
“My boyfriend dumped me. He’s been screwing another woman for ages. I have this pain inside me. It’s so intense that I just can’t cope with it. I’ve never been good at breakups.” I spoke quietly against his neck, almost caressing him with my lips. His hand crept up into my hair and he buried his fingers into the messy bun I’d carelessly pulled my hair into earlier.
“I wish there was something I could do to make that pain go away for you. I can’t stand to see you so upset,” he whispered, stroking my back with his other hand.
My anguish swamped me. I lifted my head to look at him. He looked back at me, his eyes full of emotion. He cared about me; I could see it in those beautiful eyes. I remembered how much I trusted and liked him. How kind he’d been to me when I’d needed it. How he’d admitted that he liked me a little bit.
“You can’t make the pain go away, but you could help me forget about it for a while,” I whispered back.
He brought his lips closer to mine until they were touching. At that touch he tightened his hold around me again and kissed me harder. We kissed for a while with increasing passion, tongues meeting hesitantly. I broke away from his lips, and we searched each other eyes. This was what I needed, I decided. To be held, to be touched, to be loved – even if it was only for an hour.
Without a word, I took his hand and led him upstairs to my flat. I shut and locked the door. We looked at each again and he stepped closer to me, his hand slipping around my waist. We were both sweaty and dishevelled from the workout, but neither of us minded. I moved into his arms and we kissed again, our hands exploring each other’s bodies. He pulled my hair from its bun and slid his fingers through it, his chest rising and falling rapidly.
“It’s been a long time for me, Chalmers. I’m rusty.”
“I don’t care.”
I led him to my bedroom and stripped him of his t-shirt, running my hands over the hard muscles of his chest, kissing his neck and his shoulders. With some initial hesitation, he pulled off my t-shirt and I helped him unclasp my bra. He made a strangled kind of sound when my breasts were bare and free and pushed me back on my bed, fondling and kissing them almost reverently. I yanked his track pants and boxers down and wriggled out of my shorts and panties. He glided his hands up and down my thighs.
“Oh God, you’re so soft,” he groaned.
Passion overtook us and we touched and kissed, explored and caressed each other. It had been a while since I’d had a new lover. It was like discovering unexplored terrain. He wasn’t anything like Will or Heller, which was exactly what I needed right then. There were no bitterswe
et memories being revived, just brand new memories being forged. I revelled in his taut body, tracing my fingers over the tattoos that covered his upper arms and shoulders, enjoying the prickle of his closely shaven head.
He wasn’t playful and there was no sexy banter between us. We barely spoke at all. He was serious, intense and focussed, concentrating on his and my pleasure. Far from being rusty, his touch was demanding and ardent, and my body responded willingly.
When he finally pushed himself inside me, we both moaned. I moved my hips with him, taking pleasure in the mounting sensations inside me as we exchanged deep tongue kisses. I clutched my arms and legs around him as he intensified his thrusting, bringing me to a strong orgasm before he came himself, growling loudly in satisfied release. We clung together afterwards, arms around each other, legs entwined, facing each other in the darkness. I moved closer to him to kiss him gently on the lips and he softly caressed me, stroking my skin tenderly.
“Tilly,” he said finally, and smiled at me.
“Farrell,” I replied, and smiled back.
“Thank you.” He kissed me on the neck.
“When you said it’s been a long time, how long?”
“A year, maybe more. Since I started working here. My divorce was painful. I didn’t want to get involved with anyone.”
“That’s a long time without sex!”
“Yep, I’m just realising that. Hope I didn’t let you down.”
“No, not at all,” I reassured and kissed him again, less gently. He responded and we kissed for a while.
“I was afraid you were going to be a bossy lover,” I teased him with a grin, barking out in a parade ground voice, “Chalmers, put your tit here. Move my balls there. Shift your fat arse over here. No! Not like that! You’re embarrassing yourself! Get your act together! I’ve never seen a worse manoeuvre! Do it again, but properly this time!”
He laughed then, a real laugh, and it was a surprisingly sexy, throaty sound. I immediately wanted to hear it again.
“You don’t really have a fat arse,” he admitted, his hands rubbing over that very body part. “It’s incredibly magnificent actually. And that’s not just my opinion – it’s the general consensus of all the security men.”
“Is that what you men do all day down in the security section? Talk about my arse?”
“No. We often talk about your tits too.”
I laughed. “And what’s the consensus on them?”
“Ten out of ten.” I laughed again and kissed him.
“Was this a pity fuck?” I asked him when we stopped to breathe.
“Did you feel sorry for me?” he asked, stroking my hair.
“No, stupid! Did you feel sorry for me?”
He stared at me in astonishment. “Are you kidding me? Of course I didn’t sleep with you out of pity! I wanted to. I’ve wanted to since I met you. You’re a beautiful young woman, Chalmers. What man wouldn’t want to sleep with you?” He ran his hands up and down my body, then kissed me and tangled his hands in my hair. “You should forget about that boyfriend. He’s a bloody idiot to let you go for another woman. You’ll find someone else straight away,” he said, nuzzling my breast. “A woman like you was made to be loved. It would be a crime for nobody to be loving you.”
I laughed again. “Maybe I’ve found someone already,” I teased, leaning on his chest and gazing at him with affection. He would make a great partner, I thought – mature, strong, tough, a good lover, and I really liked him. I also found him very calming.
“Sweetheart, don’t get my hopes up like that,” he half-smiled. “I wouldn’t dream of expecting you to want to do this with me again.”
“Well, Hugh, I don’t do one-nighters, you know. So we’re going to have to do this again at least one more time, otherwise I’ll be letting myself down.” My hands started wandering over his body. “And you don’t want that to happen, do you?”
“No,” he gasped as I stroked him back to hardness. “No, I don’t.”
“In fact,” I said, moving over to straddle him. “I think we’re going to have to do it again right now.”
We didn’t speak again until we lay tangled together afterwards, catching our breath. I snuggled against him, naked, loving the feel of his muscular arms around me. We slept. When I woke, the sun peeked through the windows, casting a weak light over us. I leaned over to Farrell and kissed him awake, letting my fingers tiptoe down his chest and stomach, not stopping. He found the energy to turn our twice into thrice and it was a wonderful way to start the day. I realised with a jolt of happiness that I hadn’t thought about Will all night.
“I better go,” he said reluctantly after we dozed sleepily again for ten minutes. “I have an assignment today. Can I borrow your shower?”
“Of course you can,” I said, and while he was busy lathering up, I made him a quick breakfast. When he was ready to leave, having to momentarily don his sweaty gym clothes again, he grasped my upper arms and pulled me towards him roughly, pressing his lips onto mine.
“I hope we can do this again one day, Chalmers.”
“Me too, Hugh. It was fantastic.” And I meant it.
He left, after I’d first checked that the coast was clear. I didn’t know what Heller would do if he caught Farrell sneaking out of my flat in the early morning. And I wasn’t sure I wanted to find out either.
I hummed as I cleaned up the breakfast dishes. I felt wonderful – relaxed and really calm for the first time in months. A rebound pound had never been so good. The sex was good for me. He was good for me.
It must have been noticeable because when I went to the office later, humming cheerfully again, both Daniel and Niq commented that I seemed much happier than I had for a while. I even smiled and joked with them again.
When he arrived in the office, Heller stopped by my desk and leaned down, his eyes raking over my face. He’d seen my after-sex face enough times after picking me up from Will’s place to know when I’d been getting some. I looked back at him, eyes angelic, hoping that just for once what I’d done didn’t show on my face.
“Everything all right, my sweet?”
I nodded, speechless.
He cupped my chin with his hand. “You seem . . . more content.”
“I suppose I’m finally becoming used to the idea that Will and I have broken up.” It sounded convincing to me.
He considered me gravely. “Can I speak to you for a moment in my office?”
I nodded again, my heart thumping. I didn’t even know why. I’m an adult. I can sleep with any man I want to. I don’t need to ask Heller for his permission first. I stood up and followed him into his office.
“Can I show you something?” he asked. That took me by surprise. It wasn’t what I’d been expecting.
“Sure.”
“Could you close the door, please?”
I closed the door and he gestured for me to come around to his computer. He tapped on the keys and an extremely lewd picture appeared on the screen. I shut my eyes instinctively, blushing immediately.
“Heller!” I protested. “I don’t want to look at that. Take it down.”
“Matilda, please look,” he requested. I opened my eyes cautiously and took a closer look at the screen.
“Oh God, it’s the bunny boiler, isn’t it?” I remarked wearily.
She was naked except for red, killer fuck-me high heels, her black hair falling around her pale shoulders and breasts, her red lipstick stark, her thin slash of black pubic hair a shock of colour on her white skin. She sat on a wooden chair, her legs spread wide open, genitals on display. Her hands rested on her thighs, pushing her boobs together into a cleavage. He tapped the arrow key and another picture filled the screen.
This time she was on all fours, head down, arse to the camera, her hair swept over one shoulder. Her private parts were very visible, her breasts hanging down. She looked over her shoulder towards the camera, licking her lips. He tapped the arrow again and the next photo arrived.
She l
ay back on a bed, arms lifted over her head, stretching her breasts out, her knees up and spread widely. The photo after that was extremely pornographic and she appeared to be inserting a huge dildo into herself. I turned away too quickly to take it in properly, protesting loudly for Heller to remove it from his screen. My cheeks prickled with that unmistakable heat of a blush.
The next photo had me scratching my head. It was an unidentifiable, moist, pink blob. I turned my head one way and then the other, but had no idea of the subject.
“What’s that?” I asked.
He rolled his eyes. “It’s a close-up.”
“Of what?” His look was withering. I finally caught on. “Oh! Oh. Oh yuck! Take it off! That’s gross! How did she even take that photo? I don’t think cameras are meant to go there.”
He shut down the photo program.
“Why did you show me those, Heller?” I asked angrily. “I don’t want to look at your girlfriend naked. And I certainly don’t want to look at close-ups of her bits.”
He rubbed his face and sighed hugely. “She keeps sending me these photos. Bombarding me with them. Every day there are new ones.” He hesitated, and looked unsure if he wanted to continue. “I wanted to ask you if this is something ordinary women would do.”
I shrugged. “I don’t know. I certainly wouldn’t. Not graphic photos like that anyway. But I could imagine that a woman might get a thrill out of taking erotic photos of herself for her partner. I mean, we hear about sexting all the time. But we’re not talking about an ordinary woman, are we? We’re talking about someone who’s displaying some very disturbing behaviour.” I didn’t know how to force him to take me seriously. “I really think you should be careful about seeing her any more. It appears to me that she’s very obsessive about you. I know you don’t want to hear it and you dismiss everything I say about her as jealousy, but I don’t want anything to happen to you, Heller.”
He didn’t respond, preoccupied and strumming the desk with his fingers.