Soaring

by Jassy Mackenzie

  I’d spent the night with Patrick, but my memory of it was hazy. All I could recall was lying in a deep bath while he sponged my shoulders, sending warm water cascading over my breasts. And then, nothing but dreams. I could recall only fragments, but they had been tender and intensely erotic.

  Patrick moved his hand, lightly caressing my stomach, and I moved my fingers to brush against his. In my state of deep relaxation, I realized I was incredibly turned on, acutely aware of the sensation of his skin on mine, of every place where we touched. My body had responded to his closeness through the night. It had awoken long before I had.

  “Good morning, sleeping beauty,” he whispered, his lips nuzzling my neck.

  Sleeping beauty? I wanted to ask him why he’d used those words, but the question was forgotten as he cupped his hand over my breast. My nipple responded instantly, tightening and hardening to become almost painfully sensitive. Desire rushed through me, causing my skin to tingle and a melting warmth to pool in the pit of my belly.

  He must have heard the soft sigh of pleasure I gave, because his fingertips circled my nipple before gently pinching its engorged tip so that I drew in a sharper breath. This teasing stimulation was triggering a desire that pulsed in my core. I was hungry for him…no, what I felt went beyond hunger. I was desperate to feel his touch where I needed it the most.

  I arched my body closer to his, hearing his own breathing quicken as the thick hardness of his erection brushed my inner thigh. He released my nipple, trailing his fingers down my belly to brush lightly over my cleft.

  My heart was pounding—I could not breathe as they pushed between my delicate flesh. He groaned as he discovered the wetness there.

  “Christ, Claire, you’re so ready.”

  “Your fault,” I managed to get out in an unsteady whisper. I didn’t trust myself to say any more, not while his fingers were gliding over my clitoris, sending shivers of delight through me. Oh, I wanted him so badly, I needed him inside me…now.

  “Please.” My voice caught on the word as he moved his hips and I felt the head of his cock parting my sodden lips, stroking over flesh that was trembling in anticipation. I could feel the heat of him, the powerful hardness contained in that engorged shaft.

  “I don’t have a condom on,” he murmured.

  Was this why he felt so good? Because it was his smooth, naked skin touching mine? I didn’t know. The craving for him filled my mind. It scared me how badly I desired this connection.

  “That’s…that’s okay.”

  “I’ll be careful, I promise.”

  He pushed into me, his thick shaft stretching me with a sense of delicious fullness as I accepted him. It felt amazingly good to be taken like this, raw, naked, his chest against my back, his thighs on my buttocks, so that I could feel his skin’s silken heat. Slick and wet, this was flesh on flesh, a primal connection that was as satisfying as it was dangerous. I would have to trust him…I wasn’t on the pill…but I couldn’t think past the sensations he was offering me.

  His right hand pressed into my pubic bone, his fingers sliding over my clitoris and stroking the tender skin around it; I gasped. These soft caresses stroked over my sensitive outer lips, while his strong thrusts angled directly into my throbbing G-spot. God, this was too good…the sensations were all-consuming, and they were intensified by the emotional closeness, the sense of oneness, I’d never felt so strongly before.

  How was this possible, with a man who was still so much a stranger to me? I couldn’t say. This was fucking in a way I had not experienced before, the intense physical pleasures of the act an embodiment of a far deeper need that was being fulfilled.

  At this thought, I felt myself relax, softening to him, giving over my trust and my body to him completely, and it was as if he sensed my submission. He slid his left arm around me, pulling me toward him more firmly as his tempo increased. He took me hard and fast, gasping as he drove his cock into me while the sensual caresses of his fingertips on my clitoris drew me to my climax.

  We couldn’t make a noise, but I could not remain silent. I grabbed his left hand in my own, pressing it to my lips, tasting his skin as I muffled my sounds in his broad, strong palm. This felt incredible; the deep stimulation of my G-spot with the softer fingertip pressure, but as I felt myself tense and tauten, he pushed more firmly into my clitoris. The delight of this stronger touch was so intense, it was bordering on pain, but how could I resist when the pain itself felt so voluptuously good?

  I came hard, crushing my lips and teeth into his hand so that my cries became whimpers. I bucked my body violently into his and he held me tight as I spasmed around him. He buried his mouth into my shoulder as he choked out his gasps of delight. A few more thrusts into my tight, quivering depths and he pulled abruptly out. He’d taken himself to the brink, perilously close to his own orgasm. His hips jerked against my own and I felt the pulses of his semen, hot and wet against my back.

  I was trembling, my breathing rough. I let go of his hand, ran my tongue over my lips. I’d bruised them in my effort to remain silent, but the soreness felt good. His arms around me felt even better. He was holding me like he never wanted to let go.

  Eventually, he kissed my shoulder softly before moving away. Reaching behind him, he grabbed a wad of tissues from the box on the bedside table and used them to wipe me off. I blinked, realizing that daylight was filtering through the curtains, turning the darkness of the room to muted sepia shades. I rolled over so that I could look into his eyes. He lay down beside me, his hand resting on my thigh, his eyes looking into mine.

  “Why sleeping beauty?” I asked.

  He gave a soft laugh.

  “You were out for the count last night,” he said. “You practically fell asleep in the bath. I had to hold your head above the water.” His smile made me think this must be an exaggeration, but even so, it explained my memory lapse.

  “I half carried you back to the bedroom, and you were asleep before your head reached the pillow,” he said. “And you slept for…” He checked his watch. “It’s a quarter to six. You slept for nine solid hours. How tired have you been?”

  “I guess I’ve been under a lot of stress the past few weeks,” I admitted. More like the past few months, but no need to tell Patrick that.

  “And you’re going back to it again?”

  My future felt like a trap, but what option did I have but to walk into it with as much courage as I could?

  “Tomorrow,” I confirmed. “I’ve got a meeting with my sponsors. And I have to be at an event on Tuesday night—the Sports Stars Achievement Awards.”

  His heavy sigh told me that he was as eager about me leaving as I was.

  “We need to talk,” he said.

  “Okay,” I agreed, feeling a thread of nervousness pull tight inside me at what he might say.

  “Not now. It’s too early for serious conversation. What are your plans for today?”

  “I don’t really have any plans,” I said. There was no way I was going to go into town and hunt down a doctor to examine my arm. Even if it were possible to find one, it would take the best part of the day. I’d just have to schedule the appointment for when I was back in the States.

  “I have meetings from ten-thirty onwards. I’m free until then, and I’m free tonight.”

  “I’d love to spend that time with you. Now, and tonight.” My heart lifted, and the jaws of the waiting trap seemed suddenly less intimidating. “I have to make a few calls quickly, though, and answer some emails.”

  “I should go for a run, then.” He grinned at my surprise. “I’ve got my gear in the car. I always keep it there. I’m used to snatching opportunities for training in between work.”

  Patrick fetched his gym bag from the car before going into the bathroom to change.

  “See you in an hour,” he told me. His body looked incredible in the running clothes. I couldn’t help but admire his toned legs and muscular calves, the taut definition in every inch of his body. It was the sculp
ted evidence of his own single-minded efforts—a man who pushed himself to his limits in every direction, whether it was work, sport or play. I wasn’t quite sure how he did it. After the intensity of the sex we’d had, I thought I might find it difficult to stand, let alone run.

  After he’d gone, I stayed in bed for another luxurious half-hour before getting up to have a quick bath and change into jeans and a white short-sleeved top. I went downstairs with my iPad to sit in the kitchen. What had Dave said last night? That there was a website I needed to go to, and he’d sent the link? Monika had told him about it…she’d been worried.

  I glanced up at the fridge, noticing that the cat was not in his usual position. In fact, there he was, strolling into the kitchen to eat a few kibbles from a bowl near the door.

  “Why aren’t you on the fridge?” I asked him, bending to scratch him near his tail.

  He glanced up at me disdainfully as if to say, “The fridge? Why would I go there?” His meal finished, he leaped gracefully out of the window and disappeared.

  Sitting down at the kitchen table, I checked through my emails. Dave had sent a copy of the revised contract with College Sport. I would have to look at that, see whether any of the terms had changed. And there was the email with the link he’d mentioned.

  I frowned when I saw it, because it was one of my least favorite gossip sites. A link here was never going to be good news, sandwiched in between such salacious headlines as “Woman’s Oral Sex Selfie with German Shepherd” and “Why This Bachelorette Needs to Go Underwear Shopping.” This site claimed 22 million monthly visitors. If I was on here, it was bad, bad news. I took a deep breath and clicked on the link, waiting for it to upload, praying that this would be no more than a rerun of the shocking images that had been published last week.

  I opened the page and said, aloud, “Huh?”

  “Who’s Going to Run Half Naked Through This Vista?” the headline announced. The photo, which looked to have been taken from far away, showed only a sea of greenery with a small building in its center.

  “This might look like a simple landscape,” the caption read. “But keep watching…because tomorrow, we’re going to zoom in on it and show you one of our favorite athletes and sports presenters, running through this greenery. What’s she doing? Where is she going? Is she wearing underwear? We’re wondering too! Don’t miss tomorrow’s photos, where you’ll be able to see for yourself. All we’ll give you in the meantime is this hint…running isn’t her usual sport!”

  Was this something to do with me? Monika must have thought so, or she wouldn’t have sent it. I peered down at the photo, wondering why it looked familiar. I clicked on it to see if it would enlarge, and when it did, I clapped a hand over my mouth.

  The photo was of the hotel pavilion where I’d had lunch with Patrick the previous day.

  Chapter 16

  “Oh, my God,” I said aloud, staring at the photo on the screen, feeling suddenly sick.

  Somebody had indeed been waiting for me, hiding in those cliffs on the far side of the bay. Somehow, someone had been tipped off and had managed to get a lucky shot. Those flashes I had seen had not been my imagination. They had been the real thing—the sun reflecting off a large zoom lens.

  I remembered my headlong dash out of that private place and along the drive. My blouse half-unbuttoned, my hair in a mess, my underwear abandoned. My breasts might have been visible through my blouse. A lucky shot could have shown a glimpse.

  Cold settled in me as I wondered whether the photographer had also got a shot of Patrick. He hadn’t been mentioned—there had been no hints dropped about anybody else.

  Why? Was this still to come?

  Or was he in on this? Had it been a set-up?

  It was a grim possibility, but one which I had to face.

  “Morning!” Noreen’s cheerful greeting tore me away from my broodings.

  “Good morning.”

  “Sleep well?” She gave me a conspiratorial grin as she opened the fridge, removing a small bottle of orange juice.

  “Yes, thank you,” I managed to smile back at her, even though I felt stressed and panicky inside. “Patrick stayed over. He’s gone out for a run.”

  “Feel free to make some breakfast when he gets back. I don’t have time to do any of that this morning. Got to go and show the farm to this buyer.” She paused before leaving the kitchen. “I’m bringing the horses up to the barn later this morning. If you want to have a ride, meet me there at about ten.”

  “Thanks,” I said. “I will.”

  After Noreen left, I spent the time alternately fretting over the photo and reading my other emails. The terms of the sponsorship contract were strict, and it made me feel sick to think that this new photo could already have jeopardized them.

  According to the contract, I would basically be employed by College Sport for the next three years. I would need to compete in all the major tournaments, as well as appear at numerous events and participate in several photo shoots. There were several clauses relating to negative publicity. It was not allowed. During my term, I was to do my best to promote and uphold the family values that the company embodied.

  Harsh as these conditions were, they were paying me generously to be the face of the brand.

  I could not think of this as a trap. It was an amazing opportunity. Hardly any fencers received such generous sponsorships. Monika was far more skilled than I was, and she had never had an opportunity like this. From time to time, she complained about battling to pay the rent, and when she persuaded me to go out dancing with her, I always insisted on paying. Fencers didn’t earn the same income that models or presenters did, although I had a horrible feeling that I had not truly managed to succeed in any of my careers. If I had, surely I would be wealthy by now and wouldn’t have to worry?

  The new sponsorship was an offer I could not refuse. Just three more disciplined years, and I could provide for my parents’ retirement, assuming Dave didn’t gamble on the stock market again, or get any more ideas about big houses and fast cars.

  It was an opportunity which I had to protect, whatever the cost.

  Reading down the list of mails, I saw I’d received one from my mother yesterday—which would have been typed and sent by my father. It filled me with guilt that I hadn’t replied to it already, because I was sure she was worrying about me.

  “Hey, Claire! I hope you’re okay. Dad and I just wanted to say how much we love you and how we hope your problems will blow over soon. We know how amazing you are and we’re sure there is another side to this story. Hope your arm is feeling good. Lots and lots of love.”

  I was busy with a reply to this when Patrick came back from his run. When he opened the door, a cool breeze blew in, lifting the edges of the tablecloth. It looked like it was going to rain later today. Deep grey clouds were gathering on the skyline, blotting out the sun.

  After giving me a quick kiss on the lips, Patrick went upstairs to bathe and change, giving me time to finish off the email to my mother and to think about what I was going to say to him about the photographer who had been hidden, waiting on the cliffs.

  Of course, my carefully thought out words remained unsaid. When he walked downstairs again, his hair still damp, looking sleek and groomed in a black polo-neck jersey, I blurted out, “There was somebody taking photos yesterday, when we were at that supposedly private pavilion.”

  Patrick frowned, looking confused and surprised. Genuine emotions? I could not think otherwise.

  “What do you mean?”

  I pushed the iPad toward him, link open.

  “Take a look at this.” I could hear the anger in my voice.

  Patrick picked up the iPad. He looked carefully at the link for a long time, and while he did so, I saw his face change. A frown appeared, his mouth tightened, his jaw tensed. Suddenly, although he looked as handsome as he’d done before, he came across as darkly intimidating—ruthless, even. I wouldn’t have wanted to go head-to-head with this man across a boardro
om table. I didn’t even feel comfortable facing him across the kitchen table.

  “How did you hear about this?” he asked in carefully neutral tones. I had a feeling he was struggling to keep the fury out of his voice.

  “My best friend Monika sent it to me. She was worried…she knows I’m here.”

  “Who else knows you’re here?”

  “Well, my husband. That’s all. Except…obviously somebody else does know.”

  “Any ideas?”

  “There was somebody here at the farm the day before yesterday, talking to Noreen from the Women’s Guild. She said she recognized me but couldn’t place me, and she was going to find out. And I might have been noticed by one of your guests at the hotel.” I shrugged, trying not to sound accusing as I added, “You’ve got enough media there.”

  Patrick nodded.

  “I know what you must be thinking…that, somehow, my invitation to the pavilion was a setup.”

  “No,” I said, but even I could hear the doubt in my voice.

  “From those cliffs, there’s a good view of the hotel’s main entrance further down. Somebody could have been waiting to spot you, and just got lucky when you appeared higher up.”

  “I suppose so.”

  “I need you to trust me on this.” His voice was low and compelling. “I’m going to find out who’s behind it. And I’m going to get that second photo, and any others, pulled. I know the owner of the site. He owes me a favor. He’ll do it if I ask.”

  “Are you serious?” His words were lifting a huge weight of dread from my shoulders.

  “Of course. It’s not…” He stopped himself.

  “Not what?” I asked, curious to know what he’d been going to say. Not difficult? Not a problem? When he spoke, after a pause, his words were shocking and nothing like what I’d expected.

  “I shouldn’t tell you this, but I don’t think we should have secrets from each other.” He pulled out a chair and sat opposite me, stretching across to take my hands in his. His grasp felt warm—or, more likely, my hands were cold.