by Chris Lange
Still she couldn’t stop. Her hilarity must have been infectious because they all started to smile, even Garrett who cast a knowing glance at her.
Hands on his hips, brow furrowed, Josh cocked his head. “You okay, pretty?”
“I’m good. I was just thinking of something.”
Still laughing, she held her stomach with one hand while she waved the other in a vague manner. “Never mind, I’m fine, guys. Let’s play.”
She teamed up with Garrett against Josh and Melissa, the other couple sitting close by to watch the show. Following a few hesitant tries rewarded with cheers from the audience, Garrett picked up the beat and really got into it.
In a matter of minutes, the four players were sweating, breathless, excitedly shouting, passing funny comments on the other team clumsy game, having great fun, and exerting themselves for the love of sport.
Exhausted, she removed herself from the competition and was replaced by Donna who joined the game while Tracy collapsed on the brown sand and observed her former lover.
A world away from his dutiful life, Garrett appeared younger, carefree, and bouncing with vitality. A regular American young man.
She watched the graceful motions of his strong body, wishing he could take her in his arms and stay forever in her universe. She also daydreamed about him kissing her mouth, caressing her breasts, sliding his shaft in her, penetrating her with the same eagerness he played beach volleyball.
Although Garrett’s team lost the game, he came back to her happy, sweaty, and gorgeous. The afternoon waned, the sun less bright and warm. He quickly agreed with her that it was time to go back to Bonita Street to wait for William’s return from Los Angeles.
About to leave, Josh clapped his new Nebraskan friend on the shoulder. “Good game, man. Come back anytime.”
Then Josh turned to her to say good-bye, his white-blond curly hair as usual reminding her of a surfer. “You too, pretty. We’ve missed you around here.”
“I’ll be back for a rematch,” she said. “Be ready though, because I’ll play so well you’re gonna cry your eyes out.”
Josh’s eyes twinkled when she pretended to hit his arm in a playful manner. She waved at the rest of her gang. “See you everyone.”
“Bye guys, take care,” they all replied.
On the way home, Garrett kept silent but his expression of satisfaction was unmistakable. The house on Bonita Street didn’t show any sign of her father’s return. She led Garrett upstairs to the guest room where he placed his three-piece suit and top hat on the bed.
Fumbling about in his pockets, he came up with a bracelet and handed it to her. “I believe this item belonged to your mother.”
Befuddled, Tracy took the piece of jewelry, feeling its coldness between her fingers. A silver bracelet so much like her necklace, created to cross over parallel worlds. Of course, her mom never got a chance to use it. She died unaware of the true nature of her husband’s work. Swallowing a wave of nostalgia, Tracy raised her head.
“Where did you get this, Garrett?”
“A man came to my house one morning. Although he entrusted the bracelet in my care, he didn’t see fit to reveal his identity.”
“Well, what did he look like?”
Garrett shrugged, his look clearly stating that she had no acquaintances in his world, so what did it matter anyway who rang his bell to leave a present for her.
“Average size,” Garrett said, “with short, dark hair and a pallid complexion. A rather unremarkable man if I may say.”
Raphael. Tall, handsome Raphael.
Her guardian vampire who protected her, saved her life, soothed her when she needed a shoulder to cry on, killed a bad guy for her, and obviously retrieved the bracelet to send it back to her.
A hint of a smile lifted her lips while she got caught in fond, sweet and sour recollection of a time she yearned to recapture.
Garrett jammed his hands in his jeans pockets as he watched her dreamy gaze. “Have you knowledge of this person?”
She hesitated. What would be the point in reminding him of Raphael’s existence? Stir up his jealousy?
“You used to call him my white knight,” she replied. “Raphael saved me once. I’ll never forget that moment, and I’ll never forget him.”
Garrett squared his shoulders as his eyes narrowed and his features took on a frosty and imperial expression. “That beggar?”
“He isn’t a beggar, Garrett. Besides, he’s my friend.”
No matter the new pair of jeans, the casual shirt he still wore, the game with her friends, or their entire day of freedom and fun. As he crossed his arms over his chest, jaws tensed, he looked like a Mighty Lord straight out of the nineteenth century.
“Heavens,” he said, “must we suffer another round of ‘Miss Richardson puts her trust in friends and roamers alike’?”
His cynical tone and haughty air might have hurt her if she didn’t feel Garrett cared for her. At least he had, at some point. But she saw the jealous glint in his eyes, the hardening of his square jaw, the sudden rigidity of his posture. She’d reached her goal, now she’d better drop the subject.
She breathed through parted lips. Beckoning him to follow her, she showed him the bathroom.
“Here, Garrett, feel free to have a shower. Dad won’t be back so early.”
He cocked his head toward the showerheads, and his uncertain attitude brought a grin to her face.
“How does one use this device?” he asked.
She indicated and explained the faucets as well as the programmed set of massages before pointing at a bar of soap next to a bottle of shampoo. He nodded. As she was leaving the bedroom, he halted her, his bout of jealousy apparently dismissed from his mind.
“Miss Richardson, I have spent an extraordinary day in your company. I know not how to express my gratitude toward you.”
His thankful words sent ripples through her and ignited a longing in the pit of her stomach.
“It’s been my pleasure, Garrett, and I had a fantastic time, too. Didn’t I promise you today would be ours?”
He nodded again and watched her go out. On her way to her bedroom, she wondered if maybe she had just missed a moment, one of those rare occasions when armors are breached by the softest of whims.
Back in her room, she put her mother’s bracelet in the jewelry box, along with her silver necklace. The two drawer wooden box had belonged to her mom, her expensive rings and jewels still inside.
She could have taken it anytime to her condo in Main Street, but she’d always considered her treasure safer in this house. Maybe also closer to her darling mother. A finger on the wooden surface, she shut the lid.
Memories flooded her with unwanted regret. She straightened, went to the bathroom, unbraided her hair, and undressed, her clothes soon lying in a heap on the floor.
She stepped in the shower to face the tiled white wall with a heavy heart. A motion of her hand and she let hot water drench her body, loosen her muscles. Only when she heard the sound of the glass door behind her did she realize what was happening.
Leaning toward the wall, hands flat on the tiles, his naked body pressed against her back, Garrett whispered in her ear.
“Today is ours, my lady.”
Chapter 4
Garrett’s erection grazed her buttocks, his hard shaft brushing the inside of her thighs to glide between them.
Her heart playing havoc with her mind, she dared not move, dared not break this precious and long awaited instant. She froze, expecting him to do something, to do anything that would set her body on fire. But he just stayed there, pressed against her back, water raining down on them both.
“I have longed so much for you,” he murmured.
Had she heard this right? Had he really said he’d missed h
er? A knot formed in her throat. Was the pounding of her heart too loud to catch his words or was her wildest dream about to come true?
She could have speculated for hours, but he kissed her neck then before he grabbed a bar of soap. When he touched the curve of her belly, a shudder possessed her body. When he spread the soap on her breasts, desire rushed through her. Her legs wanting to come apart, she closed her eyes.
“Let me cleanse you.” He spoke in a low voice before he lathered her skin, caressing her full breasts, rubbing her nipples with the palms of his hands.
She jolted when he squeezed them between his fingers, encasing his hard-on between her thighs. His use of expressions from another era and his gentle touch on her flesh felt even more wonderful than she recalled. Down below, his rigid shaft aroused her so much she had to breathe in fits and starts.
As he took care of her, all the hurt from the last months vanished. She forgot the pain, the rending tears, the lonely nights, the portrait locked in the workroom closet, and the void inside her. Yesterday springing back to life, she vividly remembered the feel of his skin, his caresses, his love.
He handed her the soap. She grasped it, covered her hands with the creamy texture, and took hold of the erect member sticking between her thighs. She perceived an abrupt tension in his body as soon as she touched the stiff flesh, her fingers sliding forward and backward. This simple motion excited her even more and the guttural moan she extracted from him was like a cry for life.
She would have liked to stroke him longer. She would have liked to be kissed and cuddled without end, but her body was already taking control. The stupefaction of seeing him again and the way her buried emotions rushed to the surface didn’t allow her to linger. She needed him.
She wanted to be taken and pounded right away. She’d lose her essence if he didn’t give her all that made him the man he was. Tightening her hold on his rigid shaft, listening to his harsh respiration, going delirious while he twisted and kneaded her nipples, she voiced what she needed.
“Garrett?”
“At your service.”
His tone laden with excitement triggered new sparks of desire. Her pulse beat against her temples. She knew he’d be shocked at her choice of words, and she was glad he stood behind her. She wasn’t sure she possessed the courage to meet his austere gaze without flinching. Yet, she also knew she’d inflame him.
Some things couldn’t be forgotten.
“Fuck me,” she whispered.
He’d been running his hands along the wet curves of her body, and he ceased his fondling as she uttered the improper words. Right above her ear, she heard his sharp intake of breath. Would he leave her now?
Fearing she’d gone too far though refusing to glance back, she waited him out. Endless seconds seemed to tick away, an eternity deprived of its reality.
Then he groped her buttocks and pulled them apart to reach her opening. Hardly aiming, he dug into her, moving up his hands to circle her ribcage.
The urgency and the violence of his penetration sent her rocketing. She saw an iron rod in her mind, a blunt spike created for her sole pleasure. He tightened his grip around her waist and buried himself deep into her.
She moaned.
She’d been praying for this all day long, had been dreaming about this for the past seven months. Now she had it, and the pressure of his blazing sex had her quivering. Belly torn with want, she whimpered.
“Oh, Garrett, fuck me hard.”
She raised her arms to grip the showerhead above her and spread her legs at the same time. Breath caught in her throat, she held on tight because he was already going at it hammer and tongs. As a farmer ploughed through a virgin land, as a desperate man lashed out. His powerful thrusts raked her body and torrid sensations ravaged her.
He shuddered. She wanted aggressiveness, yet his need of her appeared as strong. She was powerless in his hands, his rough shoves soon bringing them to the point where only sensations mattered. Water pelting down on them, bodies drenched and palpitating, he quickened his movements, hacking at her with the strength of a lumberjack.
She released a long cry when an incredible orgasm lacerated her. His raucous grunts of pleasure tore the patter of water as he exploded in her, his stomach heaving against her back. Whatever their past, they were united again, forever bound by ties no force on earth could rip out of them.
Too soon, the moment was over. Although embarrassment didn’t kill, she thought he might die of shame. Did she know him that well despite the brief time they spent together? Yes, she did. And she wasn’t surprised when, barely out of her, he fled to the sanctuary the guest room offered.
Left alone, she came out of the shower with a long sigh to dry off her body and hair. Steam misted the mirror above the sink, but she noticed the shiny glow on her face. The glow of love. She put on a pair of jeans and a sweater, all the while reflecting on what just occurred in the shower.
She’d never been handled so roughly, yet the bliss she got out of it was almost inhuman. There could be no denying their love and craving for each other surpassed any other sensations. Should she rejoice or fear this otherworldly feeling? With Garrett, there was no way to tell.
Now, she had to face him. Forced to stay in the same house for a while longer, avoiding each other would be ridiculous and childish. Even if he had to die of shame, she was determined to confront him, to show him their feelings were true and indissoluble: nor by time, nor by distance, nor by birthright.
Her bathroom time was over. As much as she wished to hide a moment longer, she’d just made an important decision. She walked out of her room, nerves twitching in the pads of her fingers. They met on the landing.
Mustering courage, she leaned on her bedroom doorframe when she spotted him coming out of the guest room. He looked just like the day their paths first crossed, clad in his three-piece suit, hat between his fingers, forbidding and haughty.
Eyeing him from head to toe, she hoped her disappointment didn’t show. All traces of the young man who enjoyed playing with her friends were gone. He was back in his armor, back to inhibitions, strict rules, and duties. Both rooted to the spot, they stared at each other until she parted her lips.
“So,” she said, “Lord Burnes is back?”
She could tell he stalled. Looking down at his chest, he took an awful long time to straighten his tie.
“William should be here erelong,” he finally replied. “I ought to wear respectable attire.”
“Do you think you were respectable ten minutes ago?”
A tinge of red colored his cheeks, and his gaze faltered in spite of the defenses he’d erected around himself. She didn’t mean to blame him, although her question sounded like an accusation. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out of it. Was he angry with her, or ashamed of his wild behavior?
“I must apologize, Miss Richardson, my . . .”
His voice trailed off as his eyes traveled from the walls to the staircase. She let the silence between them become heavier by the second. Watching his uncouthness could have been painful if he hadn’t betrayed her once. But he had, so he’d get out of this tricky circumstance by himself.
As things stood, she kind of enjoyed the moment. As a matter of fact, she relished the sight of this dominant man reduced to the state of a penitent. Wasn’t it some sort of compensation for the long months she’d spent torturing herself and for the countless nights she woke up crying?
Finally seeming to make up his mind, Garrett launched into a stuttered speech quite unlike his usual expressive style. “I had no right to lay a hand on you, however you’re so beguiling I fear my . . . Your language is most improper and you ought to be made aware that I cannot comply with requirements that . . .”
He faltered, pressed his lips together, darted his tongue across them, and switched the top hat from his rig
ht hand to his left. “I have brought shame to my family in view of my course of conduct. Therefore you must think me presumptuous . . .”
When did he lose the ability to end a sentence? His rambling discourse was painful indeed. She caught some of it but didn’t ask for any clarification. She wouldn’t help him, whatever his distress.
She just kept on staring at him, arms crossed, a grin playing on her lips. Her defiant attitude irritated him, because he suddenly shouted. “For the love of God, will you not speak?”
She only had one thing to say, and he was going to hear it. Like it or not, truth was coming his way.
“You know what, Garrett? That was the best orgasm of my life.”
The outraged look he threw at her told her everything she needed to know. His total lack of control along with his spontaneous response to her crude language disturbed him profoundly.
The violence he’d discovered in his heart distressed him, and he didn’t have a clue as to how to behave after such an awesome encounter. Most of all, she sensed he also had the best orgasm of his life.
He furrowed his brow and she thought she heard him hiss between clenched teeth. To get out of the deadlock, he’d use anger as replacement for whatever shame he believed he experienced. No way, baby.
She had no intention of falling into that trap. On the contrary, she was all for embarrassing him as much as she could. The banister squeaked when he gripped it and, at last, looked into her eyes.
“Miss Richardson, you have no right addressing me in this manner.”
She counted to three before asking the questions she felt like hurling at him, making sure her tone mocked his feigned irritation.
“It may be so. But tell me, Lord Burnes, did you not take tremendous pleasure in our sexual intercourse? Did you not come like you never have? Will you pretend that it never happened, or would you like me to wash your cock again?”