Beyond Temptation (31 page)

It all seemed too good to be true, she thought suddenly.

She moved away from him, glancing suspiciously up into his face.

‘Why are you here?’

‘I’ve been looking for you. I’ve been wanting to make amends. As I recall, we parted on bad terms, didn’t we?’

‘That’s an understatement.’

‘We both said things,’ he remembered. ‘Regrettable things.’

Sheridan looked down, unable to meet his gaze.

‘And I think it’s time we redressed the way we parted.’

She glanced back into his face. Hope banished her suspicious frown. She had thought about meeting up with Yale since the night of their argument and she had tried to think of some of the things he might say to her. But never in her wildest imaginings had she thought he would display such contrition. Her heart began to beat faster. She deliberately controlled herself, certain that this was a trick.

‘Where’s Amelia?’

He stiffened. His face went rigid, as though he was struggling with some undetectable emotion. A cloud of disappointment shrouded his features.

‘I don’t know where Amelia is.’

‘You’re kidding.’ Sheridan grinned gleefully. ‘You’ve left her?’

‘I’ve come to realise that I made a mistake asking her to stay, and you to leave. It was probably the biggest mistake of my life. Can you find it in your heart to forgive me?’

He was reaching for her again, his fingers touching her with an electricity that only Yale could generate. Her body was ablaze with the fire he kindled in her. Her nipples stood rock hard beneath the flimsy fabric of her top. Her pussy tingled with unfulfilled lust. Without realising she was doing it, Sheridan reached forward and began to stroke the bulge at the front of his jeans.

He kissed her face and neck.

‘You’re right,’ he agreed, as though she had spoken. ‘This isn’t the time for words. We need to do more than that.’ He swept her into his arms and carried her through the doorway. There was no light inside the room. The windows were shaded and she merely caught a glimpse of half a dozen paintings against the walls. She made out the distinctive shape of Yale’s easel but mentally dismissed the sight when she saw the bed. He was pulling her towards it and she followed happily, overjoyed that she would be his lover once again.

Her prayers had been answered and he had chosen her over Amelia.

* * *

Below the landing, Amelia heard the door close.

She released a heavy sigh.

She tried not to think what was happening behind the door. Images of Yale and Sheridan locked in a torrid embrace held no appeal for her. She felt sick as she pictured the pair of them writhing naked together. She deliberately drove the thoughts from her mind.

Robyn had mentioned something about a briefcase and Amelia was determined to find out what was inside it. She already had her suspicions and they left her cold and frightened.

In the silence of the hall, she could hear Yale’s faraway groans of excitement. Sheridan too was making the familiar sounds of passion that Amelia had once known so well. Sneaking across the hall to the cloakroom, she tried not to listen as the pair grunted and groaned.

Angrily she snatched up the briefcase and flicked open the catches. They popped easily and she saw the contents straightaway. It was still a surprise, even though Yale had said it would be there. Quite how Sheridan had managed to accomplish so much in so little time was a feat Amelia didn’t dare contemplate. She reached into the briefcase and snatched the title deeds, then closed the case and put it away.

She was halfway towards the kitchen when a thought stopped her. Perhaps they had given her instructions about what to do with the papers but Amelia had her own ideas. Yale’s groans carried easily to her ears, mingled with the mounting sighs of Sheridan’s pleasure.

A sneer curled her lip as she looked at the sheaf of ribbon-tied papers in her hands. She glanced surreptitiously towards the door of the dining room, suddenly fearful that Robyn or Dominic had overheard her thoughts. The pair were talking enthusiastically with Harold and, as their voices came closer, the fear of being caught made her hurry. She darted quickly into the kitchen, waiting for them to move out of the dining room.

* * *

Sheridan wanted to scream when Yale’s cock pressed against her. He had pulled the panties from her body, ripping them in his eager need for her. Her skirt had been pushed up over her flat, narrow waist, revealing her sex for him. Her hole dripped with her desperate longing for his entry.

She thrust herself towards his hard shaft.

Yale was an expert lover. He had one hand beneath her T-shirt, alternating between breasts as he squeezed and caressed her nipples. He used his other hand to hold the thick shaft of his cock. He rubbed it against the sopping lips of her pussy, cajoling her with the hard rounded end.

‘Please,’ she begged. ‘Don’t tease me. Please do it for me.’

Her eyes had adjusted to the gloom of the room’s shadows. She stared up at him, touched by the grim smile she saw on his lips. Forcing her hips towards him she felt the tip of his cock push briefly between her slick wet labia. For an instant he was penetrating her, the head of his shaft in the dewy wet crease of her sex.

Sheridan was dizzy with excitement.

He pulled away, clearly intent on controlling the pace of their lovemaking.

‘Don’t be so bloody greedy,’ he chastised softly. ‘We haven’t seen each other in months. Let me do this properly.’

She giggled and writhed eagerly against him.

‘Do it to me, Yale,’ she insisted. ‘I’m burning for you.’ The words weren’t an exaggeration. Her pussy lips were soaked with the glistening flow of her arousal. Inside her sex raged an insatiable heat.

‘I’ll do it when I’m good and ready,’ he decided. ‘And
only
when I’m good and ready.’ As he spoke, he lowered the tip of his cock so that it pressed against the rim of her anus.

Sheridan bit back a guttural cry. She had always known he was a good lover but she hadn’t recalled him being this good. He slid the head of his shaft over the molten lips of her pussy and then eased himself back towards her sphincter.

She shivered.

Thoughts of Harold and the others were banished from her mind as she concentrated on the thrill of being with Yale. Waves of pleasure threatened to burst from her sex and she focused solely on her body’s need. Distantly, she supposed Harold might be wondering where she was. But it was easy to shut that worry from her mind.

Harold was a malleable old fool. He was easy to manipulate and control. Now that she was safely ensconced in Yale’s arms, Sheridan effortlessly dismissed the man who had been her benefactor for six months. From past experience she knew that Harold would believe any excuse for her absence. It was impossible for her to imagine a situation that he wouldn’t accept once she had explained it properly.

Eagerly, she bucked her hips towards Yale’s rigid length. The movement forced the lips of her sex around his cock.

* * *

‘Let me see some of his work,’ Harold said flatly. ‘If he’s as good as you say, I want to see some of his paintings.’

Robyn and Dominic exchanged a glance. She could see his expression mirrored her own nervousness. The flash of his eyes seemed to say:
It’s now or never
.

Robyn knew exactly what he meant.

‘What do you think to the idea?’ Robyn pressed. ‘Using this place for an exhibition. How does that idea appeal to you?

‘I want to see how good he is,’ Harold said firmly. ‘I’m not committing myself to anything until I’ve seen that much.’

He eased himself from his chair and started towards the doorway.

‘Where the bloody hell is Sheridan?’

‘I’ll go and look for her,’ Dominic offered. He rushed to the door ahead of Harold. To explain his hasty response, he added, ‘I need to go there myself.’

Robyn watched him slide through the doorway and hoped he would be able to pass on a warning if Amelia was still out there. She realised she was watching him too intently as he walked out of the doorway and felt sure Harold would notice, but she couldn’t help showing some signs of anxiety. A steely band of nervousness tightened around her chest.

‘You still haven’t told me why you’re dressed like a whore,’ Harold reminded her. He cast his gaze over her stockings and basque, his sneer of disapproval curling unpleasantly.

‘I wanted to get you in the mood for the style of this promotion,’ Robyn explained. ‘Yale has a couple of models here and they’re wearing something similar. I realise it’s hardly the subtlest outfit in the world. But I think it will help to increase interest in the exhibition.’

‘You look like a slut.’

‘You never used to complain about that.’

‘Maybe I complained, but you didn’t listen?’

‘Maybe you’ve come down with a nasty case of misplaced morals since you started sniffing around Sheridan?’ Robyn countered sharply.

‘I’d rather you didn’t denigrate Sheridan behind her back,’ he said stiffly.

‘Bring her here and I’ll say it to her fucking face!’

Robyn bit her tongue to stop herself screaming the words at him. She glared at Harold, unable to disguise her anger.

‘Why don’t you just show me these paintings?’ he grumbled. ‘Then I can decide whether I’m interested or not.’

She wondered why she was trying to save her marriage to such a fool. It wasn’t a question she wanted to contemplate at the moment. Her love for Harold was strong and it had brought them this far. But she doubted the emotion would withstand any great psychological or emotional analysis.

‘Lead the way,’ she said, gesturing towards the door. Dominic hadn’t returned and she felt confident that the coast was clear. ‘You walked past half a dozen of Yale’s pictures when you came in here,’ she added. ‘We’ve been trying to give the place the right ambience for an exhibition of his work.’

‘If I say no, you realise your efforts will have been wasted, don’t you?’

Robyn said nothing.

She watched his back as he walked out of the door and smiled to herself. If things worked out the way she intended there was no way that Harold would dare to say no. Trying to snatch a morsel of comfort from that thought, she followed him into the hall and began to show him the paintings.

* * *

‘God. Yes. Fill me, you bastard. Fill me.’

Sheridan’s cries echoed throughout the room. She had pulled up the top of her T-shirt so that Yale had unfettered access to her breasts. As he leant over her, sliding his cock in and out of her heated depths, he shifted his mouth from one breast to the other. His lips pressed hard against her urgently thrusting nipples, turning them into peaks of ecstasy. His hands held her thighs apart so that he could slide ever deeper in an attempt to satisfy her voracious demands.

‘Yes,’ she screamed. ‘Yes.’

The mounting orgasm welled inside her. She trembled beneath him, bucking her hips further forward to accommodate more of his divine length. As the orgasm tore through her she closed her eyes, held her breath and savoured the pleasure. His hands moved from her inner thighs and slipped beneath her. The tip of one finger pressed against her anus and a second wave of delight racked her body.

‘That’s it,’ she insisted. Her voice was guttural and uncompromising. ‘I want you to fuck my arse.
I need you to fuck my arse
. Do it, Yale.
For the love of God
. Please do it.’

His soft laughter was chilling.

‘You want that?’ he asked, sliding his stiff shaft from the lips of her sex. His length dripped with her wetness as it left her. ‘If you want this up your arse, then you’d better lick it clean first.’

‘Yes.’ With a swiftness that betrayed her greed she was kneeling on the bed and moving her lips over his shaft. Her mouth encircled his cock and she began to suck him. The taste of her own musk was mingled with the salty flavour of his pre-come.

The previous evening with Gayle had been thrilling and satisfying, but it was nothing compared to being with Yale. She snaked her tongue out and hungrily lapped at him.

‘A little more slowly,’ he warned. He curled his fingers into her hair. ‘You don’t want me coming before I’ve had a chance to fuck your arse, do you?’

She grinned up at him, smiling around his shaft. Moving her lips away she spoke in a soft sultry whisper.

‘Perhaps I do want that,’ she suggested. ‘Perhaps I want to drink you, suck you hard again, and then have you fuck my arse?’

‘Let’s take this one step at a time,’ he grunted.

She lapped at him and began to wonder why he kept glancing towards the door.

* * *

‘All right,’ Harold said gruffly. ‘I’ll admit it, they’re bloody good.’

He glared at Robyn, as though she had made him say the words against his will. ‘I’ll do a feature on this Yale. I’ll devote an entire issue to him and I’ll give him all the help I can in finding a place for him to exhibit. But I can’t show his work here.’

‘Why the hell not?’

‘I have other plans for this place.’

Harold’s gaze wouldn’t meet her eyes.

‘What other plans? You’ve never mentioned your other plans to me. I own half of this building. I think I have a right to know about any plans you have for it.’

‘If you want to continue this conversation through a solicitor, then I’ll be happy to do it that way,’ he growled. ‘I don’t know what more you want from me.’

‘A little less hypocrisy would be nice,’ Robyn stormed. She would have said more, but Amelia chose that moment to join them. They were standing halfway up the stairs studying a portrait of Amelia punishing Bernice and Christian with a cat-o’-nine-tails. It was a vivid painting that had captured every painful nuance of the moment.

‘He’s a very good artist, isn’t he?’ Amelia asked.

Robyn could smell smoke as Amelia neared them and she wondered if the woman had been having a cigarette in the kitchen as she waited. She didn’t contemplate the thought for long, struck by the way her husband lewdly admired the brunette’s body. Dressed in stockings and a basque, Amelia looked exciting and vibrant.