Damaged Goods (A Dangerous Passion, part one)

by Adams, PJ

  “Yes,” he said. “Thank you. I’ll be in my study.”

  §

  Some time later, she saw him out of the window, throwing a stick for Alfie.

  She’d been here for over an hour now, and this was the first she’d seen of him since he’d let her in. It was as if he’d sensed that she felt uncomfortable in his presence. Or perhaps he felt embarrassed for his behavior the first time she’d been here.

  He came to her later, in the kitchen.

  “Is everything... well, do you have everything you need?” he asked.

  She nodded. “Yes, it’s all fine, thanks. I’m nearly done now. Do you need me to do anything before I go? Cuppa?”

  He stood in the doorway, leaning against the door-frame while they waited for the kettle to boil. Should she make herself a cup of tea, too, she wondered? He could easily be the kind of employer who would take exception.

  She put two cups out regardless, and he didn’t respond.

  “I don’t know why,” he said, “but I feel that I need to explain myself. Justify myself. I don’t know why.”

  “You don’t have to justify anything to me,” she said. That face... right now he looked disturbed, a bit confused, as if he really didn’t know why he was having this conversation with the hired help. But she knew that face when it was aroused, she knew how he rolled his eyes as orgasm took him, how his jaw dropped and he groaned...

  The dream him, at least, she reminded herself.

  She poured the tea.

  “I’m not really like that,” he went on. “Not really like this.”

  “It’s fine.”

  “The girl. The girls. I’ve had a bit of a rough time of it. I just–”

  “I know,” she said. “I know what a rough time you’ve had. Google tells you all kinds of things.” Or, at least, a sister who used Google can.

  “You checked me out on Google?” That flash of anger again, the kneejerk response.

  “I... I’m sorry. It’s just... A girl on her own. I like to feel that I know a bit about the places I work.”

  He stood, pushing his chair back with the backs of his legs so that it almost toppled. “So do you know enough about me now that you’ve raked over all the tabloid stories? Did Google tell you how every day I hate that I live and Sarah didn’t? Did it tell you that all the drink and drugs and tarts in the world can’t wipe out the memories or the guilt?”

  She felt trapped, standing with her back to the sink and him like this, standing before her, gesticulating aggressively with one hand as he ranted at her.

  “I’m sorry,” she said softly.

  Now she remembered what he’d said about his last cleaner. I fired the bitch for being too damned nosy, okay?

  She met his look, held it, and he visibly calmed himself, taking a deep breath and holding it for a long time before letting it go again.

  “She was driving,” he said. “She’d been drinking. She shouldn’t have been driving. I shouldn’t have let her, the daft bitch. It was all my fault.”

  Those gray eyes were glazed behind a wall of tears now, ready to spill.

  Holly didn’t know what to say or do. “You can’t keep shutting people out,” she said finally. “That’s not going to do you any good.”

  “Who says I want to do me any good? Who says I deserve that?”

  All the barriers he put up around himself. Shutting himself away here at the Hall. The parties full of strangers, giving the illusion that he still had a life. The girls, used and then chucked away, as Ruby had put it. So much anger.

  “You don’t need to punish yourself.”

  He turned away, took a step, paused in the doorway and turned sharply back.

  “And what gives you the right to tell me how to live my life? Eh? You’re just a cleaner.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  She turned away from him, to the sink, and started scrubbing it clean.

  “I live my life how I want.”

  He was much nearer, his voice close behind her. She twisted and his face loomed close, something new in his expression, and then his mouth was on hers, his hands to either side of her face. His lips were hard, his tongue strong, pushing between her lips, finding hers and pressing against it.

  She tried to pull away, and then she stopped resisting, and their bodies pressed hard against each other and she felt that heat in her belly, that heat she’d felt last night when she had dreamed.

  “I... I’m sorry,” he said, pulling away sharply. His hands fell away, and he stepped back, away from her.

  “I...”

  Her cheeks were hot, her breathing short, rapid, her heart pounding.

  She didn’t know what was happening, why he was doing this, why she was reacting the way she had. He was older than her, a user of women, a man with so much emotional baggage...

  And yet... she’d never felt a physical response the way she had just now. Not with Tommy. Not with the two other boys she’d been with since she’d split with Tommy. She’d never felt that raw, ragged ache in the pit of her belly, never felt that rush of emotional and physical response like a whirlwind inside her.

  He was in the doorway now, still backing away.

  “I’m sorry,” he said again. “I shouldn’t have... I won’t...”

  And then he was gone and she was alone in the kitchen and it felt like she was still in that dream and that none of this had been real.

  §

  “It’s like he’s angry with everything, raging against the world.”

  Holly lay curled up in bed. The girly chats with Ruby were a relatively new development.

  “Or just angry at the women in it?” said Ruby. “Angry at his wife for dying on him, and taking it out on all the women he meets... all the ‘bitches’ and ‘tarts’. I’ve met his kind.”

  How was it that Holly’s kid sister had so much more experience of the world?

  Holly hadn’t mentioned the kiss.

  She hadn’t mentioned the way she responded to his presence, or even to the thought of him. She didn’t know what to say about that, or how to describe it. It was a stupid thing, like a schoolgirl crush on a teacher.

  “You like him?”

  Not only more experience of the world, but surprisingly perceptive.

  “I don’t know,” said Holly. But she did know that all day long she’d been willing the hours to pass, for Thursday to be over so that it would be Friday and she would be back at the Hall.

  “You be careful, sis’. You hear me? You’ve already said what a bastard he is, particularly to women. You watch out, okay?”

  §

  Kath called while Holly was on the bus back from college the next day.

  “Sorry, babe, but you’ve been canceled,” she said.

  “What do you mean ‘canceled’...?”

  “Mr Blunt, at the Hall. Says he wants someone else.”

  “Did he give a reason?”

  “He doesn’t give reasons. I’m guessing it’s the same reason he fired Ella, though. You okay, Holly? I that bastard’s laid a finger on you, I swear I’ll–”

  “I’m fine. Just... Well, I could do with the money, you know? I had to cancel shifts at The Bull to do this and I don’t know if I’ll be able to get them back that easily.”

  “Yeah. Sorry about that, babe. What can I say? I’ll see what else I can find you.”

  §

  Maybe she would have let it rest, if the bus hadn’t swung round past the church at that moment and there, across the rolling meadow everyone called the Deer Park, she saw him. Nathan Blunt. The man who hates everything and everyone.

  He was walking. Black jeans and boots and that long tweed coat. And Alfie was there, running ahead. The contrast between the energetic dog and his miserable master was stark.

  She was angry, she realized.

  Angry that this man’s stupid moods and his impulsiveness had cost her a job.

  It was the kiss. It had to be the kiss. One kiss and he no longer wanted her around and now she
was the one who would suffer.

  She should go to The Bull and grovel with Robert, try and get those shifts back. It was only cleaning the guest rooms and dining room, and a bit of food prep, but it paid the bills.

  But instead, she got off the bus at the next stop, and rather than crossing the road and heading towards The Bull she turned back. The Deer Park was a wide expanse of green, scattered with trees, with the Hall on the far side. All part of the estate that Nathan Blunt owned.

  ‘Blunt Instruments’... he’d said that some people thought it was an appropriate name.

  He was still there, standing over by a big oak tree, its leaves the deepest autumn bronze.

  Just the sight of him brought that anger back to the surface again. Did he even know what impact his decision would have? Did he know what it was like to live from day to day, what you eat dependent on whether you’ve found a few hours’ work to do that week?

  And she was angry with herself, too, for standing here like this. Like a schoolgirl with a crush on a boy she really doesn’t like.

  Like a stalker.

  He shouldn’t make her feel like this. He just... shouldn’t.

  §

  He saw her approaching when she was only halfway across the park. For a moment he stood there, hands on hips, as if squaring up for confrontation, then he turned and limped away.

  This was stupid!

  Here she was, striding out across the park, and him trying to out-pace her, like some kind of slow-motion chase sequence.

  She should have just stopped, left him to flee.

  What kind of man runs away like that? What was he scared of, for goodness sake?

  “It’s not right,” she said, when she was close enough that she wouldn’t have to shout for him to hear. “I gave up shifts so I could work for you. I’m out of pocket.” Not what she’d meant to say, or at least not how she’d meant to say it, but the words were out now.

  He stopped and looked back over his shoulder at her.

  “So it’s money, is it?” he said. “I’ve got money if that’s what you want.”

  It wasn’t. But then, what did she want?

  “That’s no way to treat people,” she said.

  He shrugged. When was the last time he’d given a thought to how he treated people?

  “We’re all just trying to get by, you know. Even you.”

  He shook his head now. “I’m not trying to get by,” he said. “I don’t need to try. I don’t need to do anything any more, and still I carry on getting by. Or at least I did, until...”

  “Until what?”

  Another shrug.

  Holly took a few more steps so she could stand before him. His expression was hard to read... Angry, defensive, maybe a little vulnerable.

  “That kiss,” she said. “What was that all about? Did you think I’d just be another of your tarts? A quick shag with a girl from the village. Was that it?”

  He looked away, over to where Alfie was chasing about along the edge of a copse.

  “That was never going to happen,” she said. “I’m not like that. It has to mean something to me.”

  “An old-fashioned kind of girl, eh?”

  “No,” she said. “Just the kind of girl who doesn’t like to be taken for granted. The kind of girl who’s scared that if anything like that happened that would be it, and afterwards... well, afterwards, she’d just be discarded like all the others because you’re too damned scared to let anyone in past those defenses.”

  “Is that it?” he said. “You were scared I’d just use you and then toss you away?”

  She nodded.

  She thought he was going to say something, but that slight twitch of the mouth didn’t go any further. No words, just a clenching of the jaw.

  “What is it? What were you going to say?”

  “You’re scared I’d just toss you away,” he said again. “Me? I’m afraid of the opposite. I’m afraid that I wouldn’t.”

  It took a few seconds for his words to sink in.

  “Why?” she asked, then. “Why me?”

  He shook his head. “I don’t know,” he said. “But... but somehow you’ve broken through. I can’t shake you out of my head, and God I’ve tried.”

  She took a step closer.

  “You don’t want this,” he said. “Really you don’t.”

  Another step, and they were facing each other, almost touching.

  “You don’t want me. I’m damaged goods. I don’t know how to do this. I don’t–”

  His lips were hard when she kissed him, pinched shut, his jaw smooth, with just the faintest fuzz of stubble.

  Those eyes... For a moment he was like a frightened rabbit, frozen in the headlights.

  Then something changed. His arms went around her, and his body was against her, pushing her off-balance so that he was taking her weight on his arms, stopping her from toppling like a skittle.

  His kiss was hard and deep, and then somehow his leg was between hers, his thigh pressing, and she was suddenly aware of that heat, that tightness, aware of every small sensation as he pressed against her.

  His mouth moved down her chin, and then he took a handful of her hair and pulled her head back so that he could drag his teeth down her throat, sending a whole new range of sensations coursing through her body. His hands... one on her ass, one on the back of her neck. She felt like an instrument he was playing.

  Somehow she came to be standing against a tree, its bark sharp and rough through her thin coat.

  His hands were on her breasts now, and then working down, fingers sliding inside the waistband of her jeans, his other hand finding the button, freeing it, and then the zip. A hand stealing down further, burying itself deep between her legs, cupping her, fingers pressing up against her, his strength lifting her so that her weight was on her toes, the tree, and that cupping hand.

  He took her in his arms then, and lifted her off the ground, before kneeling and placing her on his spread out coat on a bed of fallen leaves.

  He pulled her trainers and socks off, then slid her jeans down her legs and pulled them clear.

  Kneeling between her legs, he paused, those gray eyes roaming across her body and then finally meeting hers.

  Slowly, he lowered himself, never breaking eye contact, until his mouth was on the flat of her belly, those lips that had been hard now incredibly soft and tender as he kissed her there, and then worked down, kissing her through the delicate lace of her underwear, finding that sensitive nub and pressing hard, his tongue rolling from side to side and sending intense waves of pleasure through her body.

  His hands found the waistband of her underwear now, and pulled it down across her hips, her thighs...

  He paused, so close that she could feel his warm breath on her bare lips, and then he lowered himself again and his mouth found the hood of skin that covered her clitoris and his tongue slipped into the fold, drawing tight circles around that point.

  Pressure against her pussy lips, grinding against her, then parting them. Fingers sliding inside. One at first, then more.

  She was so wet for him! So hot!

  Above her, the bronzed leaves of the oak tree formed an abstract pattern against the autumn sky, and somewhere in the distance Alfie barked, and Holly just lay there, twisting and writhing in response to her lover’s touch.

  “Now...” she managed to gasp, as she felt a head of pressure growing deep in her belly.

  He paused, and those gray eyes found hers again.

  “Now!”

  He raised himself, settling back on his heels to undo his belt.

  He stood, then, and kicked his boots off.

  She watched as he slid the black jeans down his thighs, revealing tight shorts – black like his jeans. Just then, she flashed back to that dream, to how his erection had made a tent of his shorts.

  The dream had not exaggerated.

  When he pulled his shorts down, his manhood sprang out, hard and long, and involuntarily Holly’s hands went down,
covered herself, pressing and squeezing.

  He dropped to his knees, and now she could crane forwards and take him in her hands.

  One hand cradled his balls, and the other curled around his shaft, so that the head rested in her palm, slick with his juices. She started to pull, twisting her wrist as she did so, before pushing back down his length with a fist clenched around him.

  Lower, pushing forward, his thighs against hers, the swollen head of his cock nuzzling against her opening.

  She held him there, rubbing him back and forth so that he dipped between her labia and then swept up to slide across her clit and up the narrow strip of hair across her mound, and then back down again, over and over.

  That tightness in her belly. She was so close. She could just carry on like this, but then–

  He reached down, enclosed her hand that held him, pushed downwards, and then he was slipping in between her lips, finding her opening and sliding, oh so slowly, in.

  She’d never known anything like this, the way he filled her and kept on pushing, filling her more and more.

  Tommy and the others – they were just boys. But Nathan Blunt...

  Pushing deep inside her until his pubic bone ground against her clit and his balls pressed against her ass.

  He held himself there for long seconds, so that all she felt was that pressure against her and the sensation of being so utterly filled, and then, just as slowly, he started to pull back.

  The next thrust was harder, swifter, and the next, and then he was pumping hard in and out of her, and she was crying aloud because she’d never been had like this before and she didn’t know how he could keep going like this, so hard and fast against her, inside her.

  Slowing finally, his hands slipped inside her top, pushing it up, finding her breasts, expertly freeing the bra and sliding it up so that she was exposed for him.

  A hard pinch on one nipple, just as his lips closed around the other, and still he thrust hard inside her.

  Rolling one nipple between thumb and forefinger, he worked the other with teeth, tongue, lips, sucking and biting, so that her whole body was alive with sensation.

  That heat...

  That tightness...

  A sudden blossoming in her belly and it felt as if every muscle in her body tightened as one.