Her body still ached with tremors of the orgasms she had enjoyed.
Thinking about those moments made her yearn to touch herself or beg him to touch her. The shower’s spray seemed to caress all the right regions of her body. It made her think of what she and Bill had done in the restaurant. She shook her head, not allowing herself to be distracted by the insatiable demands of her libido. Deliberately, she held her head beneath the shower’s spray until all thoughts of immediately demanding an extended performance from Bill were washed from her mind.
The second reason why she hadn’t mentioned the texts – and she wondered if this was actually the main reason – was because Trudy didn’t particularly like talking about Donny.
Every time she mentioned his name she was stung by the bitter memories of personal hurt and the nagging upset of a failed friendship. They had been friends throughout university. They had shared a house and they had worked together. But, on graduation, he seemed to have changed into a monster who only wanted to hurt people. It made her angry to think of the distress Donny had caused Charlotte. It made her just as angry when she considered the upset he had inflicted on Bill and Bill’s daughter, Imogen.
Trudy also suspected Daryl had been hurt by Donny, although Daryl seldom shared anything personal and Trudy didn’t like to pry. Nevertheless, Daryl seemed to take malicious pleasure from hitting Donny with scathing comments, reminding him that he didn’t have control over every woman unfortunate enough to be in his vicinity, or making harsh remarks about his inadequacies as a lover.
It seemed, since graduating from university, Donny had become a destructive force that damaged friendships and spoiled everything good he encountered. Consequently, because there were more pleasant things to discuss and he was such an unpleasant topic, Trudy found it easy to put him to the back of her thoughts and focus on more agreeable matters. He was a distasteful chore that could be postponed until the next day.
Nevertheless, knowing that she shouldn’t be putting that unpleasant chore aside for a moment longer, Trudy opened her mouth to call out of the shower and tell Bill that Donny was once again being a nuisance.
Bill spoke before she could get the words out.
‘I’ll be out tomorrow evening.’
He stood in front of the bathroom sink, moisturising his skin with an Australian Bodycare Tea Tree wash. He was shirtless and looking as ruggedly handsome and masterful as ever. His physique was not particularly muscular but it was well shaped and appealing. His chest was broad, flecked with a dusting of light grey curls, and his stomach was smooth and flat. Even as he went through his nightly moisturising ritual, he looked, as always, like a man in control.
It pleased Trudy that he was comfortable sharing the bathroom with her whenever they were washing. She enjoyed the familiarity and unexpected intimacy of that nearness. It was almost a confirmation of the fact that they no longer had any secrets.
She frowned when she had processed his words.
‘You’ll be out tomorrow evening?’
‘Well,’ he glanced at his wristwatch. ‘Given that it’s now quarter to one in the morning, I suppose I mean this evening. Tonight.’
She had figured he meant that. ‘But tomorrow, I mean tonight, it’s Tuesday, isn’t it? You work with me at Boui-Boui on Tuesdays.’
‘I should have mentioned it over dinner,’ he apologised. ‘I think you distracted me with your feminine wiles.’
She laughed.
‘Harvey’s taking me to an awards ceremony,’ he explained. ‘I’ve been nominated in the category “Favourite Celebrity Chef”. There’s little chance I’ll have won but Harvey thinks it’ll be good publicity if I’m seen there. He wants me to be seen wearing a tux and complaining about the food they serve.’
She pushed her face back beneath the water’s stream. ‘That’s a shame. We’ve been getting so little time together recently.’
‘I know,’ he agreed. ‘I’m thinking of telling Harvey to maybe sack off the whole celebrity-chef campaign.’
She pulled her head out from beneath the shower. ‘Sack it off?’ She understood that phrase. It was the one Bill used when he wanted to stop doing something. ‘Why would you want to sack off being a celebrity chef? Aren’t you enjoying it?’
‘It’s fun. But I get more enjoyment from spending time with you.’
Trudy didn’t reply. She thought about what he’d said as she finished washing and then stepped out of the shower and embraced him. After the steamy heat of the shower cubicle she felt chilled by the bathroom’s cool air but it was not an unpleasant sensation. Not when she had her arms around Bill.
‘You’re wet,’ he muttered.
She nodded agreement. ‘Of course I am. You excited me a lot in the restaurant.’
His laughter faltered. ‘I meant you’re sodden with shower water.’
She tilted her jaw and held his gaze. ‘I didn’t mean that.’
Slowly, remembering how much he had pleased her earlier, Trudy fell to her knees. She placed her hands on his hips and then moved her fingers round to the waistband of his trousers.
‘Ms McLaughlin?’
‘Yes, Mr Hart?’
As she spoke, she unzipped him. The unfastened trousers fell to his ankles and she was left staring at the jutting thrust of his erection. Lightly, she stroked her fingers along the length of his flesh. He was warm and hard for her. The end of his length glistened a dull purple in the bright lights of the bathroom.
‘What are you doing, Ms McLaughlin?’
She held him in a loose fist, about to guide his shaft into her mouth. She paused, resting the end of his length on her lower lip as she stared up at him. She arched an eyebrow and gave him a quizzical smile.
‘What am I doing, Mr Hart? Are you telling me that a man with your extensive world experience doesn’t know?’
The length stiffened in her hand, as though he was excited by the challenge of having to caution her for being flippant. Before he had a chance to speak, Trudy encircled him with her lips. She took his shaft into her mouth and sucked.
He groaned.
His hands fell to the sides of her head and he clutched fistfuls of hair. Trudy could feel him pulling so tight she thought the follicles were being torn from their roots. The surge of pain, and the knowledge that he was controlling her, added an unexpected thrill to the moment.
The need in her loins throbbed hungrily.
She had thought this would only be about pleasing him. She had thought she would be able to show her appreciation for what he had done in the restaurant in an act of delicious and selfless reciprocity. Wasn’t that what couples did for each other?
But, instead of this being simply about the pleasure she was giving him, Bill seemed to be inadvertently exciting her with the way he was so easily able to exert his control.
She stroked her tongue against him.
She moved her mouth along his shaft and sucked lightly while her tongue teased his end.
She spent a moment using only her lips to moisten and excite him.
He groaned loudly.
His hold on her hair clenched into a punishing grip.
Trudy could feel herself growing more aroused. If she had placed a hand between her legs she knew that she could have teased an orgasm from her sex with no discernible effort. Her nipples were rigid. Her clitoris throbbed. The prospect of satisfaction would take little more than the caress of her thumb.
But she refused to let herself have that release.
This was not about her pleasure: it was about his satisfaction.
She kept him in her mouth, sucking, licking and wetly exciting him until he could no longer contain himself. Even then, when his hands clutched her hair tight and his legs trembled with the effort of containing his climax, she refused to loosen her hold on him.
‘I can’t hold out much longer,’ he warned.
Her pulse had been quick before. Now it raced.
She stared uncertainly up at him, her eyes wide with curiosit
y. Had she taken him to the point of orgasm so swiftly? Was she really able to excite him as easily as he was able to excite her? What did that suggest about their relationship?
If her mouth hadn’t been filled with him she might have voiced one of the questions. But, because she knew that none of the answers was as important as his pleasure, she simply pressed her mouth more fully over him and held him there until he exploded.
And he did.
He came in a thick creamy pulse that she could taste at the back of her throat. He came with a shivering explosion of spasms and throbs that made her fearful she wouldn’t be able to keep him in her mouth. His fists tightened in her hair. He pulled hard on her locks. He groaned loudly with satisfaction.
Greedily, she swallowed.
And swallowed.
And swallowed.
It was only afterwards, when she was shaking from the experience, that Trudy realised she had shared his pleasure and succumbed to her own orgasm while she was swallowing him.
Half an hour later they were lying in each other’s arms. They were in the cottage’s spacious double bed and getting comfortable for what remained of the night. If she had concentrated, Trudy could have remembered the exact flavour of his taste in her mouth. She wouldn’t let herself dwell on that memory because she knew it would only lead to an arousal that would be intense and insistent and likely to prevent her from being able to drift off.
Bill kissed her gently on her head. When he spoke she could hear the heavy timbre of tiredness in his voice. She knew he wasn’t far away from sleep.
‘What did I do to deserve someone as wonderful as you in my life?’ he asked.
She smiled for him and said, ‘I was wondering just the same thing.’
It was only as she was on the precipice of sleep that Trudy realised she hadn’t told him about Donny, his texts and his demands for a slice of Sweet Temptation.
She made a mental note to mention it first thing in the morning.
Chapter 13
Trudy stood before the sink in Bill’s kitchen, staring out at the pre-dawn darkness and sipping a bottle of mineral water. Morning had yet to creep over the horizon and she was trying to make out the difference between where the horizon’s trees ended and where the night sky began. Everything seemed delightfully peaceful, still and serene. She could hear nothing through the open window above the sink. It was too early yet for birdsong and there were no sounds of passing traffic from the nearby A-road.
A sliver of light and an unexpected movement snatched her attention to the corner of Bill’s estate.
What the hell? Aliceon?
It wasn’t just light. It was a door-shaped piece of light. In the centre of the door-shaped piece of light was a figure.
A waving figure.
A beckoning figure.
What the hell could Aliceon possibly want with her? And at this unearthly hour of the day? If she needed to talk, why didn’t she pick up the phone and ring the cottage?
Remembering her silent promise of the previous evening, a vow to make sure Aliceon was OK, Trudy waved back. She wasn’t sure how much of her Aliceon could see but she raised a thumbs-up signal and hoped that would explain that she would be over shortly.
Aliceon continued waving.
Curious, and more than a little uneasy, Trudy finished her bottle of mineral water, collected her running bag and jogged out of the cottage towards Aliceon’s home.
She was dressed in pale-blue running clothes this morning. The bright-pink bag looked a little out of place but Trudy consoled herself with the knowledge that she was wearing the brand colours of Sweet Temptation.
The morning air was cool.
Night still hadn’t had a chance to shake off the dewy chill of its sleep and Trudy could feel goosebumps prickling on her bare calves and forearms. Slick grass caressed her ankles as she ran swiftly and confidently through the darkness. Even though she had suffered a late night after an arduous day, she felt bright, energised and excited.
She was curious about why Aliceon was gesturing for her attention. Had there been an accident? Was there a problem? How serious was it?
The distance between the two cottages was only short but it was a sufficient warmup to get her heartbeat increased and to loosen her muscles, ready for the intensity of the five-mile workout she intended for that morning.
‘I saw your light on,’ Aliceon called as Trudy approached.
Her voice was unnaturally loud in the darkness. Trudy thought Aliceon sounded like her usual, capable self.
‘Thank you for coming over,’ Aliceon called.
She was wearing a white towelling bathrobe that looked like it had long ago been liberated from a hotel. Nervous fingers toyed with the towelling cord that fastened it. She chewed her lower lip and her gaze kept shifting towards Bill’s cottage. The light that caught in her eyes made her expression look anxious.
‘I couldn’t see clearly but I guessed it was you in the kitchen,’ Aliceon explained. ‘I can’t imagine Bill being up at this time of day. He’s never been a morning person. I figured it would be more discreet to wave you over rather than talk on a mobile or ring through to the land line and disturb the entire household.’
Entire household? Trudy puzzled over the comment until she realised Aliceon meant Bill. And why had she used the word ‘discreet’?
‘Is everything OK?’ Trudy asked. ‘Is there a problem? Last night you looked a little harried when you were leaving. Bill and I both thought –’
Her voice trailed off. She wasn’t sure what they’d both thought.
Aliceon saved Trudy the embarrassment of having to explain. She nodded. Her thin lips attempted a smile but gave up before it became more than a sneer. She looked like she made a conscious effort to stop pulling at the bathrobe’s cord but then her fingers went to straightening the lapels of the robe and wrapping the garment more tightly around her thin frame.
‘I need to take the night off. Will you and Bill be able to cope?’
‘Of course.’
Trudy said the words automatically. She knew she was going to be on her own in the evening. Bill clearly hadn’t told Aliceon that he was going out with Harvey. And Trudy had no idea whether she would be able to cope through the night if she lacked Aliceon’s support at front of house and Bill’s experience and supervision in the kitchen. But she had never known Aliceon look so anxious before and she realised the maître d’ would not be asking for the favour of an unscheduled night off if it wasn’t very important.
‘Is everything OK? Is there anything I can do to help?’
Aliceon shook her head and sniffed. She turned her face away and started walking into her cottage. Trudy followed, hoping to get a chance to reassure Aliceon that the offer of assistance was genuine. It sounded like she’d been crying and, even though Aliceon was cold and aloof and relatively unapproachable, Trudy didn’t like the idea of someone being miserable, alone and friendless.
‘What’s wrong, Aliceon? What can I do to help?’
‘It’s my problem,’ Aliceon said stiffly. ‘It’s nothing I haven’t dealt with before. I hope to have something resolved by the end of the day. That’s why I need the night off.’
Trudy glanced around the cottage and tried not to let the shock show on her face. She had visited Aliceon’s home a couple of times previously and had always been impressed by the neatness and orderliness of the cottage. Despite the chintzy décor of busy wallpapers and paisley-patterned carpets, each room always looked like something polished and unoccupied, reminiscent of a display in a museum or a freshly presented show home.
This morning, Aliceon’s cottage was a scene of chaos.
Lever arch files were strewn open on the floor. Suspension folders, books, official-looking documents and a myriad other important pieces of paperwork littered the surfaces of tables and chairs. She tried not to notice details, worried that Aliceon might think she was prying, but it was impossible not to see the official stamps on the brown envelopes. Most of the
letters were stained with accusatory red ink. Whatever Aliceon’s problem was, Trudy could see it was serious.
‘Is there anything I can do to help?’
‘No. I’m dealing with it.’
‘Is there anything Bill can do?’
Aliceon’s eyes widened in panic. She grabbed Trudy’s forearm and clutched tight. ‘Please don’t tell Bill about this. He mustn’t find out about my situation. You mustn’t tell him.’
Trudy knew she couldn’t tell Bill about Aliceon’s situation, because she had no idea what the situation was. She nodded agreement and patted Aliceon’s hand in a placating gesture. ‘If Bill asks, all I’ll tell him is that you took a night off. Is that OK?’
‘Thank you,’ Aliceon sighed.
The relief that swept over her was tempered by a sudden flash of clarity in her eyes. For the first time she seemed to realise that Trudy was in her home and being exposed to the embarrassing revelations of the uncharacteristic chaos and clutter. She ushered Trudy out of the front door, still looking harried while nervously eyeing the litter of official documents.
Trudy couldn’t work out if she had seen correspondence from the tax office, missives from HM revenue and customs, or simply reminders from the DVLA. Whatever it was, it was clearly a pressing problem for Aliceon. And it was obviously something she didn’t want seen.
‘Go on,’ Aliceon urged. She looked determined to see Trudy leave. ‘You have your run to do and I need to get things sorted. I’ll see you tomorrow and, please, for both our sakes, don’t say a word to Bill about what you’ve seen.’
For both our sakes? Trudy wondered what that meant. Was Aliceon threatening her? Was she simply confused and talking nonsense? Or did the confusion of paperwork have ramifications that Trudy couldn’t imagine?
Unable to know what to say for the best, Trudy blithely promised that everything would be OK. She trotted warily down the cottage’s path to properly start her morning exercise regime.
And then she began her run.
It wasn’t difficult to put Aliceon out of her thoughts.
Whilst it was obvious that Aliceon was upset and struggling to maintain control of a distressing predicament, Trudy didn’t doubt she would be able to manage. She had seen Aliceon deal with countless unmanageable situations at Boui-Boui. There had been noisy drunks, abusive customers and angry complaints, all of which Aliceon had contained, controlled and consolidated without breaking a sweat. Whatever problem she was currently facing – and Trudy realised it would have to be pretty large to be scratching her polished surface – Aliceon would doubtless prove a match for the circumstances. By tomorrow morning, Trudy didn’t doubt Aliceon would have overcome her current adversity and be basking in triumph.
Turning Up the Heat Page 11