Illicit Affairs

by Dixon

  “Good boy,” she cooed down at Peter, guiding his hands onto her petite waist, and slowly sliding them up to her chest, noticing his growing arousal pressing up against her thigh. Her hands moved his southwards towards her sweet centre but at the last minute she snapped and pinned his hands above his head, her eyes daring him to try to resist her. With one quick, assertive movement, she had taken his belt and bound his wrists with it.

  Temptation was something Ava knew well, and it was something she always impulsively acted on. She knew that the only way to get rid of that lustful urge was to yield to it.

  All week she had felt the unwarranted itch of desire and now she was using Peter to scratch it for her.

  Morning broke through Ava’s curtains, her lashes fluttering into consciousness as she watched the specks of dust floating in the sunbeams.

  “Good morning, gorgeous!” Peter’s voice reverberated off all four walls in her bedroom making her brain ache as she hid beneath the sheets. “Coffee,” he chuckled, placing a mug down onto her nightstand.

  “I don’t drink coffee,” she grumbled, resenting her hospitality for keeping coffee stocked in the apartment for guests. Ava peeked only a pair of sapphires out of the bedsheets as she squinted up at Peter’s messy mop. “What time is it?”

  “Back of nine.”

  “Back of what?!” Ava squeaked, shooting upright and not caring that the upper half of her body was exposed and igniting a greedy gleam in Peter’s eyes.

  “It’s alright, love. It’s the weekend.” Peter laughed, sipping at his cuppa, his presence starting to irk Ava as she got out of bed and resisted his attempts of pulling her body close to his. “What’s the hurry?”

  “I’ve got things to do, places to be!” Ava sighed impatiently while peeling his arm away from her waist and padding into her en suite with Peter in tow.

  “Oh,” he said, a little disappointed. “I thought we could maybe have breakfast together?”

  Her feet skidded to a stop against her bathroom tiles. Not this again.

  “Peter…” Ava’s tone was a warning as she slowly turned around to face his wandering eyes dragging down her model body.

  “I know, I know”—his hand motioned at her to slow down—“just sex and all that, but we can still have breakfast together for Pete’s sake!” He laughed, putting down his coffee and stepping closer to her until his hands landed upon her upper arms. “C’mon, it’ll be nice, I’ll make you a hangover smoothie.”

  “I can’t,” Ava stated sternly, taking his hands and placing them back at his sides. “Sorry, I’m just very busy today,” she added a little more softly before coaxing him out of her bathroom, “I’m visiting my father at his estate this weekend and I promised I’d be on time for brunch, which I’m now going to be late for.”

  “So? I’m sure he’ll understand—breakfast is the most important meal of the day!”

  “Perhaps next weekend. Just…see yourself out, alright?” Ava called through the bathroom door that she now shut in his face as politely as she could manage.

  That was the trouble with her arrangement with Peter; it was no longer just a one-night stand. The sex was above par and he was certainly a very attentive lover, but there was more than just the problem of things getting too familiar with them both now…

  Peter hadn’t managed to scratch her itch.

  Nine

  The British countryside was always a welcome sight for Ava when she was constantly surrounded by stone and glass. It wasn’t that she didn’t adore her concrete jungle, it was just that there was something very freeing about driving through the rolling green hills that were patched with vibrant yellow fields of growing rapeseed flowers.

  Ava’s chauffeur pulled through a set of grand gates fit for a castle as they drove up an avenue of majestic oak trees, the road lined with sunny daffodils and snowdrop flowers.

  The Crestwell estate soon came into view, the ivy-covered manor showing off the ego of Mr. Archer, laid out in sandstone brick that sprung out from the well-manicured lawn as if it were insulted by the soil it sat on. The house was overly large and ostentatious to the point it was almost intimidating, but to Ava, this had been her home all along. The large rectangular windows were oversized, every room bathed in daylight from the first kiss of dawn to the twilight hours. The driveway was grandiose, sweeping into a wide circle in front of the stately home with an ornate fountain in its centre.

  “Thank you, David,” Ava said to her driver as he carried her suitcase up the stone staircase that led to the front of her childhood home. Before her stood the large oak doors that were sheltered under a wide porch supported by stone pillars. One of the tall doors burst open as a man walked out into the late morning sun.

  The gentleman wore a green tweed blazer over a button-down shirt and a pair of well-pressed sandy-coloured trousers. Despite his summery attire, his hair was turning to winter, greys fading into silver as time creased his handsome, yet slightly lopsided face. His right leg stepped forward while his left dragged behind, the walking stick he leant on tapping against the concrete tiles.

  “Hello, little bug!” Mr. Archer beamed, stick pointing to the side as his arms extended wide.

  Ava’s face burst into life as she ran like a child towards her beloved father and wrapped her arms around him. It may seem odd to some that this was their style of greeting after last seeing each other only just over a week ago, but Ava saw her dad every day and enjoyed his company so even a short period of time without seeing him had felt longer than she’d care to admit. Also, being the eldest daughter, she felt a certain level of responsibility to keep an eye on her father and make sure he was well.

  “Oh, I missed you, old man!” Ava cooed, squeezing her arms tightly around him before easing off when she felt the tap of his cane against her leg.

  “Steady on you with the ‘old man’,” he chuckled, his voice personifying the British summertime. “I might be going grey, but I’ve still got youth in me yet!”

  Ava wasn’t sure if it was the time spent apart or the fact that her father was still healing from his trauma, but something about him felt older and more fragile since last they met.

  “Yes, boss!” Ava laughed, saluting her dad in their usual bantering way. “How are you feeling? How’s the leg?”

  “I’m perfectly fine, bored out of my mind in this big bloody house with your two squabbling sisters driving me barmy!” he jested, placing his hand onto Ava’s shoulder and guiding her through the grand doors of the house that creaked and echoed into the main atrium of the building. “Speaking of which, don’t mention Suzy’s hair…” her dad warned with a grimacing shake of his head.

  “Why? What’s wrong with Suzy’s hai—”

  Suddenly a set of doors burst open from her right and a tall woman with a sharp black bob greeted her. “Ava! You’re bloody late, brunch is going cold!” Heather huffed, a polka-dotted apron wrapped around her thin frame. “Get your arse through here!” she barked, disappearing back through the doors but not before poking her head through them again and adding, “Oh, and for the love of God, do not mention Suzannah’s hair!”

  After spending the afternoon with her father, reassuring him that everything was all rainbows and sunshine at his firm, Ava was now sprawled across her youngest sister’s bed ranting about her new boss and the week from hell she had had. She lay staring up at the high ceiling with her legs dangling over the side of the four-poster bed.

  “He sounds like Christian Grey,” Suzannah giggled, making Ava’s eyebrows lower into an unamused expression as she propped herself up on her elbows and glared at her youngest sibling who was still at college studying fashion.

  “Why do people keep referencing that bloody movie?!” Ava chided, shaking her head and crossing her arms. “I wish he was Jamie Dornan; I’d climb that man like a tree.”

  “Ava!” Both of her sisters gawked at her.

  “What? I bloody would!” she scoffed as the three of them burst out into laughter that slowly fade
d. “Not to point out the elephant in the room but speaking of fifty shades of grey…” Ava winced as she pointed at Suzannah’s hair.

  “It was meant to be ash-blonde, not grey!” Suzannah whined, slapping at Ava’s knees before throwing herself face down onto her bed and squealing into the quilted sheets.

  “I’m teasing, poppet. I’m sure the salon will sort it out on Monday, but hey, blonde suits you!” Ava soothed, patting Suzy’s back.

  “Not everyone can possess the golden child gene, isn’t that right, Ava?” Heather teased as she swung upon a hanging loveseat in the corner of the room. It was an ongoing tease between her sisters that Ava was the only blonde in the family, but apart from that, Suzannah and Heather enjoyed winding her up about being Daddy’s favourite.

  “Envy isn’t a good look on you, dear sister,” Ava retorted with a smirk.

  “Neither is that outfit,” Heather bit back, causing Ava to drop her jaw in offence.

  “What’s wrong with my outfit?”

  “You look like a thirty-year-old single mother who drives her ex-husband’s Range Rover.”

  “I do not!”

  “You kinda do,” Suzy chipped in, her voice muffled with her face still planted.

  Outraged at this, Ava got up and peered at herself in the mirror. She couldn’t understand how her peach blazer, white loose-fitting shirt, and high-waisted jeans made her look like a divorced mother, especially with her lips painted red.

  “I think it looks chic,” Ava said defensively, shrugging.

  “No, darling sister, this is chic,” Heather sighed, coming up behind Ava to remove her blazer, tuck her shirt into the waistband of her skinny jeans, and then roll Ava’s sleeves up to her elbows.

  “You need a belt for that waist,” Suzannah added as she stepped in to loop a brown leather belt around Ava’s slim centre.

  “Honestly, you pair,” Ava sighed but had to admit that her sisters were right. The ensemble did look better with their fashionably skilled touch. Ava didn’t have bad taste in dress sense at all, but compared to both her fashionista sisters, she had no chance.

  Once the sisterly antics had died down, dinner was being served, which smelled like a delicious Sunday roast despite it being Saturday. Fatty, smoked, and succulent aromas filled the hallways of the large house as the trio made their way downstairs.

  “So, tell me, have you split up with my future husband yet?” Heather teased.

  “For the last time, Peter and I are not an item.” Ava rolled her eyes, her hand grasping the dark wood of the bannister at the bottom of the stairs as she swung around it out of old habit.

  “Suzy said you guys shagged last night—becoming quite the regular occurrence, don’t you think?”

  “Keep it down!” Ava hissed, not wanting her father to know of the raunchy misconduct happening behind his back in his office. “It’ll be the last time it happens; he offered to make breakfast again…” She bared her teeth at Heather, who was only a year younger than Ava and less naive as Suzannah, who still didn’t agree with Ava’s a-romantic outlook on life.

  “Again?” Heather mirrored Ava’s expression, walking through the large hallways as the aroma of dinner grew stronger. “Well, if you’re pulling the plug with Peter, I call dibs. You can go on the prowl for Jamie Dornan,” she jested as Ava peered back at Heather from over her shoulder.

  “Or I could just fuck my current boss!” Ava joked, her shoulders shrugging up with a whimsical expression on her face before she turned around and stopped dead as she smacked hard up against a muscular roadblock. A squeak left her lips as she timidly peered up and stared into restless pools of honey that sent heat flaring to the surface of her face.

  Ten

  Nate’s hands grasped handfuls of Ms. Archer’s hips, his fingers itching to reach back to her plump behind and pull her forward. He hadn’t been expecting to find her here this weekend but was highly pleased when Tom had mentioned all three of his daughters were visiting. As per usual, Ava’s colourful mouth never failed to impress or amuse him, nor did her beautiful flustered face. She looked different outside of work—less sharp and filtered, her curves softer and more delicate, a type of carefree demeanour to her that he enjoyed.

  “Mr. Brooks?!” Ava piped, her voice breaking from the high pitch she addressed him with. It didn’t help matters that Heather was snorting back her laughter behind them both.

  Why is this fucker always around at the worst possible times?

  “Ms. Archer,” Nate didn’t attempt to hide his amusement as his lips lifted into a perfect smile that dimpled his cheeks and reached the corners of his eyes. “I was just catching up with your father,” he explained as a common courtesy, his eyes dipping down to the pleasant placement of her warm palms against each of his pectorals.

  Ava couldn’t help but stare up at him, her feet frozen in place, and her fingertips unwilling to move from the solid muscle beneath his fitted lilac shirt, which was rolled up at the sleeves and only emphasised the power beneath the stretched and rumpled fabric.

  When he eventually made a move to step back from her, she noticed the way his fingertips applied a slight amount of pressure into her sides, his thumbs pressing into her hipbones and causing a surprised gasp to leave her lips as their magnetic gaze remained on each other.

  “Ah, Ava, I see you bumped into Nate!” Mr. Archer exclaimed, stepping out of his study and into the hallway where Ava sprung apart from her boss as she tried to remember the use of her tongue.

  “Quite literally,” Heather quipped, passing by Ava with an impish smile on her face and receiving daggers from her elder sister.

  “Nate, we were just getting dinner, why don’t you join us?” Mr. Archer beckoned generously as he staggered up to Nate and placed a hand down upon his broad shoulder.

  Nate didn’t need to look at his assistant to know her expression would be horrified at the prospect of him joining their dinner party, a small amused chuff escaping his nose at the thought.

  “Oh no, I couldn’t possibly impose, Tom,” Nate replied, deciding to let Ms. Archer off the hook and save her any further embarrassment. However, he did intend on quizzing her as to why she would “fuck her current boss”.

  “Pish-posh, you wouldn’t be imposing at all, we’ll set you a place at the table now.”

  Ava felt her stomach rocket into her throat as she quickly made her way into the dining room and sat down at her usual spot at the table. This was a nightmare.

  Home is meant to be a sanctuary and here the bloody devil is!

  “Well, that wasn’t painful to watch,” Heather whispered next to Ava, her thin lips rolled inwards to suppress her laughter.

  “Shut your mouth!” Ava hissed, elbowing her sister and uttering, “You don’t think he heard, do yo—”

  “High maintenance, expensive to upkeep, and desperate to see the Italian coast,” Nate chuckled, suddenly appearing in the room alongside Mr. Archer and causing Ava’s mouth to snap shut.

  “Ah yes! As are most,” Mr. Archer laughed as he took his seat at the top of the table. “But a fine beauty she is! We sailed the coast of Sicily many years ago—why Ava, you must have only been a little sprout!”

  Ava sat upright, giving her father a meek smile as she downed her glass of water to quench her suddenly dry mouth. It was a pleasant but odd experience seeing Mr. Brooks dressed down and wearing dark navy jeans that clung to his strong thighs and emphasised the tightness of his bottom—he certainly had a bum that rivalled even Beckham’s. It also wasn’t lost on her, or her sisters for that matter, that Mr. Brooks’s tan leather belt matched perfectly with his brogues and designer wristwatch. Of course, a man of his stature would be effortlessly stylish as he were handsome, making it near impossible for Ava to keep her eyes off him as he took his seat directly across from her at the large table.

  Ava was glad that during the meal, the conversation was steered mostly towards Suzannah and her college work. However, Ava did find out snippets of information about the mysteri
ous Nathaniel Brooks and how he studied law at Harvard, was an only child, and grew up just outside of the big city in a town called Southampton, confirming that her boss was from new money just like her.

  “Yeah, well, Cynthia was telling me about the internship she got, you know, for work experience, so it’s something I think I should look into as well. What do you think, Daddy?” Suzannah asked, her fork moving around the peas on her plate, an annoying habit that Ava thought her little sister would grow out of after twenty-odd years.

  “Absolutely, pet. Exposure to the working world is critical in any industry,” their father agreed and suddenly Ava’s head popped up as though a light bulb switched on above her.

  “What about an internship at the firm? We’re always hiring data clerks!” Ava insisted, knowing their father would show his own daughter the same kindness he did to her best friend. However, as her father and Mr. Brooks exchanged a disconcerting look, Ava furrowed her brow and asked, “What?”

  “That’s partly why Nate came over, bug. During the annual financial review, you’ll know we look at ways to save the business money, and as it turns out, data entry isn’t required anymore,” Mr. Archer sighed, removing his glasses with a heavy look on his face.

  “What are you say—”

  “What your father is trying to say, Ava,” Nate interrupted, wiping his smug mouth with a napkin, “is that it is the twenty-first century and with robotics in place these days, there is no use for a data clerk—we’re practically tossing cash down the drain.”

  “Wait, you’re not telling me you’re getting rid of the data department, are you?” Ava’s attention snapped between Nate’s composed face and her father, who was now rubbing at the bridge of his nose. She felt the prickle of anger up the back of her neck like a flame held against her reddening skin.