Beautiful White Lies Duet

by K L Clare

  When she pulled her forefinger out of the pot again, she hesitated, holding it upright without touching anything. “Tell me, Will, where do you want it this time?” Her voice had taken on a sensual huskiness, and she hit me with a shy smile. She was turned on.

  “Let me show you what I want.” I pulled the sheet away from her bare body and gaped for a minute before dragging her jam-covered finger from her neck to her pebbled nipple, circling it, making it even harder. She gasped and arched her back. Christ, she was touching herself, and it was so beautiful to watch. When I lifted her finger from her breast, she groaned.

  “More. Please, Will. More.”

  I smirked and grabbed the jam pot. “Yes, baby, I’m quite hungry. I need more.”

  She curved two fingers and scooped more jam from the jar. I placed those fingertips on her other nipple and watched her circle it and arch again, then I dragged her two fingers down along her abdomen and pressed them to her clit. She cried out.

  “Don’t come, Elle. Not without me.” I pushed back and settled my weight on my heels and watched her work the berry jam round her sweet little button. I stroked my throbbing cock while I watched her pant and writhe in pleasure before I stopped her. “Grip the pillow above your head.”

  She resisted. “Will . . . I need . . .”

  I grabbed her wrists. “You will do as you’re told, angel, or you’ll get nothing at all.”

  Her eyes went wide, she swallowed hard, and she submitted to me with a nod.

  I was demanding more of her in bed as she’d asked, acknowledging that she was indeed not breakable, though I had never looked at her that way. Strength and will is what I saw whenever I looked at my wife. If she needed me to prove it to her, then I would, but my way. I would never smack her arse again.

  “Good girl,” I murmured against her skin, my mouth devouring the fruit on her stomach. I drew my tongue upwards along the raspberry-red stroke she’d painted for me until I reached her hardened nipples. I sucked them both, drawing each tightly between my teeth and pulling for a few seconds before releasing them to give her the sharp sensation of erotic pain.

  She writhed and moaned each time, arching into the slight sting. “Oh God,” she cried.

  “There is no god, angel. There’s only me. And you are mine.” I placed tender kisses on her nipples and blew to change the sensation to one without the promise of pain.

  “You are my god,” she breathed as I dragged my mouth to her neck.

  Her words made my erection kick out against her stomach and my heart pound faster in my chest. I loved her beyond words. I was obsessed with her. Nothing else mattered. There was nothing else because she was everything. And I was hers.

  “I need you, Will. Please don’t let rage split us up again. I can’t survive without you.”

  I lifted my head and met her eyes. She knew. She’d seen it the night before when I had looked into the car window, when she’d pressed her hand to the glass and said she loved me.

  “Never, Elle. I promise. Just help me keep it straight.”

  She brought her hands down to my face. “We can beat it.”

  Then I kissed her, shoving past her lips with my tongue and taking her mouth with such brutal force that she pushed my face back. “I’m sorry,” I breathed and then kissed her again with as much tenderness as I could gather.

  I was fucking desperate to be inside of her, for her to heal me.

  “I’m going to make you come hard, Elle. Are you ready?”

  “Yes. You’ll fuck the hell out of me?” She grinned.

  I couldn’t help but grin as well as I pressed my cock against her body. Christ. “I’m quite a lot bigger than you, baby. Are you sure that’s what you want?”

  “Oh, yes. I want you to do it hard. And fast. From behind.”

  Another tender kiss on her lips. “If that’s what you want, you know the rules—hands back to the pillow. Need to get you ready first, to take all of me. I do believe you left some of my breakfast between your legs.”

  28

  Commissioner Brown held out his coffee mug for Mrs. Bates to refill, and I pushed my fingers through my damp hair. Elle was just making her way down the staircase. I’d asked her to take her time showering so that I might first have a few minutes alone with the commissioner. It wasn’t about keeping secrets or withholding information. Anything he gave me I would share with her. I wanted to be sure he wasn’t reserved in his responses to my questions for the sake of maintaining respect for my wife. Elle got that. She didn’t like it, but she understood.

  She and Thomas passed through the arched opening into the drawing room together. Mrs. Bates slid the pocket doors shut behind herself after handing Elle a glass of water.

  The commissioner stood and greeted Elle. It was the first time I’d seen them together, and my call to separate him from her had been spot-on. His gaze held her with paternal affection. He would have been less frank to spare her further suffering, as a father or uncle or even a brother might do.

  He would soften his words now that she was with us, but I couldn’t. She needed to grasp the severity of what we were coming up against, and I needed her to experience the anxiety it would trigger while she was in my presence rather than have her hide it from me. I extended my hand to her.

  “So, Commissioner, Devon Parker goes to trial soon, and you believe his conviction is a foregone conclusion based on Interpol’s supporting evidence,” I reiterated from our conversation. “Trafficking in automatic weapons by way of Eastern Europe will get him how many years in prison?”

  “Seven to ten is the recommended sentence for a British citizen, but perhaps more in this case.”

  “For seven to ten years, perhaps more, as you say, he will sit behind bars with the ability to send his accomplices to threaten my wife—some of whom work for you. And I’m supposed to do what . . . ignore the risks? Hope none of his followers are fucked-up enough to hurt her before he gets out and tries to do it himself? Fuck if I will.”

  “No, we’re not doing that, brother,” Thomas said. “The commissioner understands what is at stake here and to what lengths you and I will go to keep Ellie safe.”

  Commissioner Brown took his seat and contemplated his next words for a minute. He looked at Elle, and she flashed a warm smile back at him. She liked him, trusted him even.

  “I assure you the corrupt officer you encountered last night will be held to account. My advice is for you to work more closely with Director Martin on this case. As you know, his team is granted protection against criminal and rogue acts. I would not be granted the same.”

  MI5 relied on its agents and informers to provide intelligence for investigations into terrorism and espionage, so it operated differently than the nation’s civil law enforcement agencies. Agents acting on behalf of the security service were permitted by the government to carry out criminal activity. Activism associated with the Order had been declared terrorism by the Crown.

  I nodded, picked up my coffee, and pulled it close to my mouth, speaking over the steam. “Thomas and I will work with the director. You will continue to counsel my wife on the matter. However, she may not see Parker again.” I sipped while moving my gaze to hers. She dropped her eyes to her hands and twisted her wedding band round her finger.

  Her name fell softly from my lips, and I took her hands into one of mine, placing them on my thigh, holding hers there beneath mine. When she lifted her gaze, I pitched her a small smile. The regret in her eyes cleared, and her lips curved, syncing with mine. We released a breath together.

  No one said a word. The commissioner and Thomas each signaled their compliance to my command by bobbing their heads in agreement.

  Elle leaned forward with more confidence, her leg rubbing against mine. “Is the video footage ready, Thomas? I’d like to take a look now.” She turned back to me. “And then I want to go home. You can send for Sean or James Jackson or your investigator or whoever you need to work with from Eastridge—I don’t care. But I want to go ju
st as soon as we see this video.”

  My angel had had enough. Her anxiety was on high alert, and she needed the comfort of our family home. She needed to hold Lissie tightly in her arms.

  “Of course, baby. You’re right. Let’s get out of this goddamned city for a while.”

  “Come with me, Ellie,” Thomas said, curving his fingers to indicate that she go to him. “Will can wrap up here while you and I fire up the footage on the monitor in the library.”

  Elle kissed my cheek, presented her hand to the commissioner when he gestured for it, and then hooked her arm through my brother’s. As they walked away, I watched the sway of her hips. I recalled how she looked, smelled, and sounded as she screamed my name when I made her come on all fours only an hour before. She had been so lovely. So bloody fucking lovely.

  Commissioner Brown cleared his throat.

  That shit always pissed me off—the throat clearing to get my attention.

  “You know how this is going to go down, commissioner,” I started. “You will notify Martin of the sentencing and correctional facility transport details, and in that short window of time during his transfer, Devon Parker will die. I don’t see another option at this point. Do you?”

  He shook his head and hardened his blue gaze, locking it onto mine. “I’ve spent time with Devon Parker. He has a sick mind, Hastings. If he is presented with an opportunity to avenge Simon, he will hurt her first, and then he will murder her. He has priors. He’s hurt other women, but he will kill your wife. So no, I can’t see another way in this instance. We must cut the head off the bloody snake.”

  “And I’m sorry, mate,” the commissioner added. “I haven’t had an opportunity since Ethan’s passing to deliver my personal condolences. Ethan and I were never close, but nonetheless, he was a friend. He was happy for you, you know.”

  “Thank you. He gave his life for hers, for me.” I dropped my chin, rubbed my eyes.

  He lied to me about so many things. Not sure I care that he did.

  Losing my older brother still hurt. He had been my confidant, my business partner. He had covered for me whenever I’d fallen into a binge with whatever suited my addiction-inclined tendencies, though nothing and no one satisfied me back then.

  Ethan had been smaller than Thomas and I, with less physical strength, and he’d known our father had undervalued him because of it. But Ethan had never quit a fight, no matter how hard he’d been pushed or how many times one of us had broken his damn arm or his nose. He’d been an excellent marksman from an early age, but that had never been enough for our father. His sons had to be warriors. At some point when we were in our late teens, I took on Ethan’s fights, and our father repurposed him for rebuilding the family’s financial holdings.

  My older brother had been all about the money, all right, and he’d been quite good at networking and sourcing. He’d had a genuine talent for pulling in business opportunities and setting us up with an advantage. But ultimately, he somehow had fucked up negotiations in the deals he’d attempted to close on his own. I became the moneymaker, closing deals that made us billions. . . . And my father hadn’t lived long enough to get his hands on a goddamned penny or see the irony of it all.

  “Listen. I’m not certain Elle’s sighting of Parker last night wasn’t a manifestation of the anxiety disorder she suffers from. To be clear, Commissioner, I want this incident kept quiet.”

  The commissioner extended his hand, and we shook in silent agreement.

  I walked him to the door, pleased with our understandings, and headed for the library to join my brother and my wife. It was quite a relief to have an ally in the city who cared about saving Elle’s life without the expectation that I would deliver a hit or lend my financial influence in return. I released a heavy breath. Devon Parker was mine—his ghost belonged to me.

  Elle’s face was pained with worry and confusion. She was on her feet, staring at the large monitor on the wall with the remote in her hand. Rewind. Play. Rewind. Play. She played the segment of video footage over and over.

  “I’m not crazy,” she whispered.

  “You’re done with this, Elle. Something scared the hell out of you last night, but it wasn’t captured on camera, that’s all. And now we know it wasn’t Devon Parker.” I pried the small silver remote from her fingers and tossed it to Thomas. “Unmanned video surveillance never captures what it should in large settings like that one.”

  “I inspected the camera locations myself, Ellie. None were positioned in a way that would reproduce the view from where you were standing. It’s a technical issue. The security system install was done poorly. You can’t beat yourself up over it,” Thomas added.

  Elle nodded and the anguish marking her expression eased. “Okay,” she breathed. “Okay. It’s not easy when I can’t put my own eyes on him in his jail cell, but you’re both certain he was and is still there, so I’ll deal.” Her eyes met mine, and I pulled her close. “I trust you, Will.”

  “Devon Parker can’t get to you. I swear to that,” Thomas said.

  She locked her arms round my waist and rested her cheek against my chest, her head positioned so she could make eye contact with Thomas. “I trust you both.”

  Was that pain in his eyes? The suffering in his eyes was different right then, if only for a heartbeat, but I recognized it. It was the kind of pain that split my chest wide when I was unable to soothe her, and the idea that he might be feeling that sentiment stirred the bloodthirst that lived in me.

  My brother moved away abruptly to cut the video feed. He knew I’d caught his pained expression. “You two should head home to Eastridge. I’ll remain in the city tonight so we have eyes on the situation from this angle. It’ll be more advantageous for one of us to be here.”

  “You’ll need to drive home for the partnership meeting. I want to keep the business plan on track. Sean will make arrangements for the others to attend via Skype or whatever the hell it is he uses, and he’ll come along with me to the estate. The secretary he’s been training will cover his desk at the office.”

  Christ. One night wasn’t enough time to put distance between myself and what I’d just witnessed in my brother’s eyes. I gnashed my back teeth together, causing tension in my jaws.

  “Ellie’s private secretary?”

  “Yes. Spend time with Ms. Smith while Sean is out. Task her with confidential matters. Review her background information. Make sure nothing was missed.” I pressed Elle’s ear harder against the center of my chest and covered the other one. A stupid fucking instinct to protect her beautiful, pure light.

  She pushed at my hand. She could still hear me, of course, and she would reprimand me for my behavior as soon as she escaped my hold.

  Let her scold me. It’ll give me an opportunity to shut that sweet little mouth with mine and reclaim her.

  The thought of tasting her caused my cock to rise. My lips twitched.

  “Do not fuck my wife’s secretary, Thomas,” I ordered before releasing Elle.

  29

  Two hours later, our bags were packed, and we were headed south towards East Sussex county. Mrs. Bates hadn’t wanted to delay her own return by waiting for her brother to pick her up, so she rode shotgun in the front with Taylor in the Bentley. It worked out well enough for Elle. Recognizing that I would be tied up with business calls, she intended to use the drive time to review household matters with Mrs. Bates before we arrived at Eastridge.

  The grand country estate once owned by my father and several of my grandfathers now belonged to me. As my wife, Elle outranked my mother and was hurled into a role in which she was leaned upon for her preferences and decisions in the running of both houses. She quite disliked the tediousness of it all, but she was settling into it, innovating new family rituals and carefully preserving some of the old traditions—sometimes reshaping them to better suit our current needs while making it more palatable for future generations.

  “We need to prepare rooms for Sean and James,” I heard her tell Mrs
. Bates. “I’d like to keep them away from the girls and Mary. Will may keep late working hours, and we don’t want the family disturbed.” She turned to me. “When is James arriving?”

  I cut out of my phone conversation with the investigator for a minute. The retired intelligence officer was surveilling the men expected to rouse the Order and looking for Sarah Parker. I’d added another assignment—monitoring activity at the Met’s central custody facility where Devon Parker was imprisoned.

  “Late. Not until after dinner.”

  She stroked my arm and continued with her planning session, and I smirked. Her confidence was already soaring. Being home on the southeast coast of England affected my wife that way. It changed her in a profound manner. She became assertive once her strength was unchained from the apprehensive state she dwelled in each time we remained in London for more than a few days.

  Someday she won’t have to spend much time there.

  Hastings Group was doing quite well again. Ethan and I had built a wildly successful private equity company, but we had taken some heavy hits when I stayed in the States before bringing Elle back, and again after Ethan’s death. Thomas and I had been clever enough as a team to quickly recover the financial losses and recapture the firm’s aggressive momentum. It was time to give Thomas his professional due and make him a full partner. But that was only half of the equation necessary for me to reduce the amount of time I spent inside HG’s operations.

  We planned to bring two additional partners into the firm. It would take four active managing partners for me to be afforded the type of business schedule I wanted. A schedule that allowed for Elle to join me in most cases or offered us the opportunity to bow out completely. Opening up the firm to more associates was never something Ethan and I had considered, but each time I looked at the woman now at my side, it became clear that I had to surrender the egocentric footing with which my older brother and I had founded the company.

  James Jackson had earned his position as partner. Christ, he’d held shit together time and again when I did not. After James was invested as a managing partner and the three of us discovered our fourth, Thomas would be able to breathe easier. He was under a great deal of pressure to pull his weight straightaway, but not only that, he also covered for me when I became preoccupied with my wife. And when some of the burden was lifted from my brother’s shoulders, when he was successfully executing contracts on his own, I could become the CEO who rolled into the city for short periods to close significant deals and drink Scotch with investors and foundation donors.