Authors: Elise Alden
I didn’t know whether he was talking about my open mouth or my pussy but my body didn’t care.
“You’re moving in tonight,” he said.
James’s high-handedness was just as irritating as usual, making me tense and clench around his finger. Not a very good way to stay angry by the way, in case you’re wondering. In fact, extremely counterproductive. Nevertheless, he could take his dictatorial tendencies and cork them in the wine cellar.
I was gasping with each stroke of his fingers. “If you expect me to—”
He made an exasperated noise. “I would greatly appreciate it if you would agree to live with me. Right now, because moving Ryan and myself to Marcia’s flat will be tight, not to mention the fact that in front of our son I won’t be able to do this...” He sucked my nipple into his mouth, making me squeeze his finger even harder. “Or this...” He turned me onto my stomach, raising my hips and adjusting me against his hard on.
Note to self: it’s hard to have a sensible conversation when you’re on all fours and a very insistent, sexy man is entering you so slowly you want to scream.
Was he going to screw me until I agreed?
“Whatever it takes.”
Need and desire. Maybe sex was all he wanted from me.
James flipped me over, his voice as firm as the thrust into my body. “Does this feel like just sex to you?” he said, lacing his hands with mine. “It’s never been only sex between us, not since the second I saw you, regardless of what I said in Spain. I was convinced that you had used me. I was angry and hurt. Afraid of my feelings for you.”
I heard his words again, saw his face as he’d offered me money. “You don’t believe what Caroline said?”
He spoke into my neck, whispering across my skin. “More importantly, I don’t care whether it’s true or not.”
I looked at him doubtfully. “But you said—”
“I was an idiot,” he said softly. “I hate that I hurt you. Please forgive me.”
“As long as you never call me ‘darling,’” I said, remembering his endearment for Caroline. “I hate that word.”
He grinned and confided a few of the names he had for me. I undulated against him, until I remembered what we were talking about. “I can’t move into Matham Manor. I don’t own any silver cutlery or crystal glasses.”
“My cutlery is platinum, actually,” he teased, upping his pace.
I stroked my hands down his muscular arms. “Francesca,” I gasped, trying to concentrate. “She hates me.”
“Irrelevant.”
“But she’s your mother and—”
I couldn’t think clearly, much less talk about Francesca with James inside me, far from satiated. I always knew he was virile but I guess with seven years of wet dreams to exorcise we weren’t going to get much sleep tonight.
“Did you mean what you said at Casa Escondida?” he said.
He wanted to know if I loved him.
I stared at him, frozen with indecision. Once before he’d wanted to know how I felt about him but I had been too angry, too drunk and too immature to realise it. Or to answer him truthfully. Who knows what would have happened had I been honest?
But no, I had made the wrong decision, not wanting to put myself on the line because moments like these had scared the hell out of me. They still did, but now I knew that I wanted them anyway. Moments that defined who I was and how I would live, that opened me up to pain and made me defenceless. Moments that allowed me to make a choice.
“Yes,” I whispered. “I love you.”
James’s eyes glowed but I couldn’t read them. I read his body instead, taking him into me and feeling his pleasure. I wondered if he would ever tire of being inside me, of hearing me moan his name or of wanting to wake up next to me.
“No,” he whispered, driving deep. “That would be like not wanting to breathe.”
“I can barely breathe now,” I said. “I want—”
“Tell me what you want.”
I was on the brink of an orgasm and he was holding back, torturing me with his teasing. But I couldn’t be explicit as he wanted. I’d made a promise to Francesca and I was going to keep it.
“I want you to...to...
“What?”
“To plunder me with your swollen manhood,” I blurted.
James paused. “Plunder you?”
I spoke to the ceiling. “With your swollen manhood.”
His face was perfectly blank. I groaned, shutting my eyes and wishing I’d never read a bodice ripper in my life.
“Francesca made me promise not to swear and it’s been bloody hard, okay?”
James dropped his face into my neck. Then his whole body trembled and he looked up at me, laughter bursting from his throat and making his eyes sparkle. I gave him my best scowl but that only made him laugh harder. He looked at me sideways, wiped his eyes and gave another chuckle.
I shoved at his arms, miffed. “I live to entertain you.”
James rolled onto his back and pulled me on top of him. He lifted my hips and adjusted me onto his thick crown. Oh, God, he was hard and as hot as a furnace. I wasn’t going anywhere and his smug look said he knew it.
“Plunder you, huh?” he said, rubbing his cock along my swollen labia. “What else should I do?”
I took him into me slowly. “Well, there’s sheath your rampant sword inside my silken lotus flower, for starters.”
“Like this?” he said, dispensing with my sensuous glide to push up with a commanding thrust.
I gasped and melted into his...
“Pulsating member,” I sighed, making him laugh.
“You can tell me whatever you want, Paisley,” he said. “Swear as much as you like when you’re in my bed. I promise I won’t tell my mother on you. Cross my heart and hope to—”
I took his hands and slammed them down on the bed, brushing my breasts against his chest. “I’m more into show than tell just now,” I said savagely, undulating up and down his shaft and owning him completely. “Like it or lump it.”
“Like it,” he gasped, his face getting the tight, painfully absorbed look that meant he would soon be beyond coherent thought.
“Paisley... Oh God... Fuck!”
“That’s the idea.”
* * *
Hours later, I drew letters on James’s smooth chest, intertwining P’s and J’s. There were no declarations of undying love from James, no promises to cleave to me forever or the sort of romantic things he’d said when he thought I was Caroline all those years ago. I told myself that I didn’t care. After all, he had
loved
Caroline and although I knew he wanted me in bed—liked me, even, that was a far cry from love.
Be happy with what you have
, my mind ordered.
Hunger drove us out of bed. I put on James’s dressing gown and he pulled on a faded pair of SpongeBob SquarePants pyjama trousers.
“Cute,” I teased.
“Ryan gave them to me and they’re comfortable.”
The beef stew was delicious. And guess what? The meat came from a farm with golden cows that only eat ground diamonds, or so it seemed, to hear James talk. He scoffed at my Big Mac habit so I went to his freezer and pointed at the three shelves of Ben & Jerry’s.
“I can’t move in if I don’t get freezer space.”
“Bottom corner.”
I eyed his pyjamas. “You’d need to upgrade to the Incredible Hulk.”
“Incredible, huh?”
I stared into cocky emerald eyes. “Green, mean and bad-tempered.”
“That’s Shrek. The Hulk is misunderstood.”
“Pity, I have a thing for violent beasts with a penchant for growling and ripping my clothes off.”
James lunged at me and did both. My teasing words must have worried him though, because he redoubled his efforts to convince me to move in. And in the morning I rested my head against his chest and gave him the answer he wanted.
Living together would be far from easy. James was arrogant and high-handed and I was brash and straight-talking. He was the posh blue blood from the manor and—
“I don’t care,” he murmured, moving inside me. “You’re mine.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
Emerald Green on Sapphire Blue
“Life’s a bitch.”
“And then she dies,” Marcia said, handing me a mug of mint tea.
I grimaced, both at her words and at the TV screen. Marcia was watching
Medical Emergency Room
and there was blood and gore in my peripheral vision.
“How bad was it?” she asked.
I sighed heavily. “As bad as watching your mother die can be, I guess. James was strong for Ryan but it was hard on him.”
Francesca had declined rapidly after Christmas. In the final two months of her illness I’d spent all of my time with James and Ryan, keeping the house running and providing a steady base for them. Towards the end, James had hardly left Francesca’s side. His eyes were shadowed and his face lined with resignation. There were no words or tears of sorrow but after Ryan was asleep he would let down his guard. Then he would take me to bed and desperate with grief and need, he would find solace in the driving rhythm of my compassion.
“Was Caroline at the funeral?” Marcia asked.
“Lord and Lady Scott-Thomas deigned to grace us with their presence at the manor afterwards.”
“And?”
I glanced at the TV. “That’s gross.”
Marcia grinned. “You plastered yourself all over James and rubbed her face in it, didn’t you?”
I rolled my eyes. “I could hardly do that at a wake, Mar. Besides, I’m not that petty teenager anymore, remember?”
“But you wanted to, didn’t you?”
My lips refused to stay in a straight line. What can I say? The savage woman who thinks she owns James can strike at any time. If Caroline was watching when he put his arm around my waist then so be it. I could hardly stand there immobile, could I? My kiss gave him the strength to get through the day and it satisfied that other self at the same time. I wasn’t going to lose any sleep over the expression on Caroline’s face when she saw our embrace.
There were much better things keeping me awake at night. Mainly, the man who would arrive at any moment and drive us to Heathrow. I chatted and laughed with Marcia and all the while my heart was skipping with glee, thinking of Casa Escondida
.
Matham Manor was up for sale but we weren’t waiting around for a buyer. Almost one year to the day I’d arrived back in Britain, I was going back to Spain.
Back home.
When the time came Marcia’s eyes welled and so did mine. I read her hopes for me and the sadness at our parting and we embraced tightly. She pushed me into James’s arms and he pulled me into his side.
“Happy birthday for tomorrow, Paisley,” she said. “Tarzan’s coming around after mass so we can celebrate that you’re gone. Now get the hell out of my flat.”
* * *
A few weeks later, Ryan and I were walking along Puerto Escondido beach looking for the dolphins he’d seen from the balcony. So far, nothing. James had disappeared in the early hours, telling me he had to pick something up in Valencia and would be back before lunch. Lunch had come and gone and there was still no sign of him.
I looked up at Casa Escondida and saw James’s tall figure climbing down the recently rebuilt staircase. My brows shot up and Ryan laughed.
“Surprise!”
Behind James were Tarzan and Fleur Anise. Marcia lagged farther back, picking her way down the steps with a scowl on her face. I would have run towards them but Ryan tugged me back.
His face was serious. “You’re supposed to wait for Marcia.”
James and Tarzan stood at the base of the cliff, watching me. My heart sank as I saw the tense, worried look on James’s face. Tarzan’s face was serious too. He was wearing that sober minister look he’d sported at my parent’s funeral.
There was nobody left in my family to die, was there? Caroline’s demise would hardly bring Tarzan and Marcia all the way to Spain. Hell, Tarzan would break into prayer and Marcia would break into the champagne.
It had to be something else. Something bad.
Marcia got to the bottom of the stairs and headed towards me with an evil grin. The limp bunch of red and purple wildflowers she handed me looked like the floral equivalent of roadkill.
“Pum pum de pum,” she deadpanned, and Ryan giggled.
“Pum?”
Marcia looked at me disgustedly. “Oh God, you really aren’t the brightest bimbo on the beach, are you?”
“C’mon,” Ryan said, tugging on my hand. He shot an exasperated look at Marcia. “Dad said no talking, remember?”
I clutched his hand and let him lead me to Tarzan and James, while Marcia followed behind. Tarzan was wearing his dog collar but I didn’t pause to tease him about the black Bermuda shorts. I was too busy staring at James. He stuck his hand in his pocket and took out a ring. I looked at him sharply. Could it be?
My voice trembled. “No restaurant meal?”
“They’re closed for siesta.”
I looked at the sea, a tide of joy beginning to rise inside me, but new sharks circled dangerously. Marriage and Paisley Benton? And what’s more, marriage to James Xavier Scott-Thomas? Hell, I was grateful when I woke up every day and found he still wanted me, that he hadn’t come to his senses and realised I would never be the sort of woman he should want.
What if I said yes and then he regretted it? What then?
James took my face in his hands. He stared down at me as though he’d never get enough of
seeing
me. Of knowing who I was and wanting me because of it, not because it was part of the package deal. Scars and all. His forehead touched mine and I felt him tremble.
<<
Say yes
,
you bloody woman
.>>
Not the way I’d ever imagined being proposed to but somehow it felt right. I stared at him and saw that he was just as afraid as I was, that the thought of losing me made him raw. I’d never imagined that he’d want to marry me, but I should have remembered that James was a traditional man at heart. A man who wanted to give me his name as well as his body. The corners of his eyes crinkled.
<<
Definitely my body.
>>
<<
In that case...
I’m yours.
>>
The tension in his shoulders eased and he took my hand, sliding the ring firmly onto my finger. It was a dark green emerald set in gold. I met his penetrating look with an ecstatic smile. Then Tarzan did his thing. I’ve seen him in action before so I know he did a good job, but I couldn’t concentrate on a word he said because of the conversation James and I were having right in front of him.
Emerald green on sapphire blue.
Now I knew why James never peppered our lovemaking with declarations of love. There was love in his gaze, yes, so much I thought I might be consumed by its intensity. But there was more than that. For him I existed in a place where one simple, four-letter word didn’t cut it. A place beyond reason and beyond labels. He looked at me, filling even my fingertips and the ends of my hair with his joy. I swayed, thinking I would split apart with the force of it.
James steadied me with his hands and a small bolt of energy raced along his body and into mine, settling into my skin like a heated caress.
A promise.
Then Tarzan pronounced us caveman and woman—I mean, husband and wife. The people I most loved in the world clapped and whooped and kissed us. James lifted me by the waist and twirled me around. He sealed the deal with a kiss that promised I’d get no more sleep that night than I had the night before. Marcia and Tarzan chased Ryan and Fleur Anise to the water’s edge.
I cocked my head at the stairs. “You carrying me up?”
“The car is parked down the beach.”
When Marcia suggested a BBQ we headed back to the house. While James and Tarzan went to hunt for meat at Supermercado Costa with the kids, Marcia and I gathered veg for a salad.
“Mrs James Xavier Scott-Thomas...” she said, eyeing my ring.
I looked at her and grinned. “Quite a mouthful.”
“Hey, no dirty talk before the consummation.”
We worked in silence, a silly little smile on my face. I let out an incredulous laugh, thinking of the sneaky arrangements James had made for a civil ceremony the following day. True to form he was a stickler for legalities. I wasn’t surprised he’d thought of everything, including getting copies of my birth certificate and all the necessary documentation.
“Don’t blow it like I did,” Marcia said. Her sadness was swiftly concealed.
“Give Tarzan a chance, Mar. He’d never hurt you the way Trevor did,” I said softly.
She took out a non-alcoholic beer, swallowed, and looked at the label disgustedly. “Same shit, different name.”
“Tarzan’s a great kisser,” I said slyly.
“Perverts. Isn’t that like incest for you two?” she said, but I could tell that she was intrigued.
“He’s hot around that little white collar, just begging to be corrupted. Don’t tell me you haven’t thought about it.”
She bent her head to chopping red peppers, her face stubborn. “
Icksnay
on the... Whatever. Don’t push it. Tarzan’s hardly my type. That pasty white skin and shock of red hair is scary. And does he even know what exercise is? He may be slender now but he’s the kind that grows a paunch on spaghetti legs. I met his dad at Brighton Hospital years ago. And Tarzan’s a minister for Christ’s sake.”
“So what?”
“Can you imagine me giving up my fashion sense for polyester and M&S knickers? Sitting through church services in a religion that would give my mother the heebie jeebies? Then there’s the little matter of whether he even knows the road to paradise. Quoting scripture ain’t going to satisfy my lustful loins, I can tell you that much.”
I picked up the salad bowl and backed away towards the door. “Don’t knock it. Those verses in Song of Songs are pretty hot. And besides, God knows you need some ‘hot and sweaty’ so why not with his representative here on earth?”
Marcia’s face was sceptical. “I don’t know if it would work.”
“If you want to know if the relationship will work...give the man some pussy,” I teased.
James and Tarzan walked into the kitchen behind me. “Wise words my child,” Tarzan said. “I’ll have to remember them during couple counselling.”
Both men dropped their shopping bags on the counter. Marcia’s cheeks turned pink. She glared at me and stuck her knife into the pepper like it was a Paisley voodoo doll. Smiling, Tarzan took the salad out of my hand and headed out, followed shortly by Marcia. James barely waited for them to be gone before he spun me around and clamped his hands onto my bikini-clad bottom, pressing me into him tightly.
“I always thought giving the man some pussy was excellent advice.”
“Finally admitting how you do your thinking, James?”
“Where my wife is concerned.”
Oh God
.
His massaged my back, kissing my mouth, my neck and then the small triangles that covered my nipples. Honey and vanilla,” he murmured, inhaling the hollow in my collar bone.
I was melting, my hunger for food being overtaken by an all-together more basic urge.
“We can’t,” I said breathlessly. “The kids are hungry and we’ve got guests.”
“I’m going to make love to you,
Mrs Scott-Thomas.
Tarzan and Marcia can feed the kids
.
”
He slipped his hand under my bikini and sizzling hot pleasure spread through my body. He was on lawyer mode, cutting straight to the chase to get what he wanted. His other hand rested on the barely visible bulge in my abdomen. A little buzz zapped him through my skin. James jerked his hand back and stared at me, puzzled.
I pitched my voice to sex-education video flatness. “Reproduction for clueless toffs—when a lawyer of the human species inserts his penis inside his secretary’s vagina—”
James swooped down and covered my mouth with his, absorbing my words and letting me feel how ecstatic he was, how deeply he would love our new child. I had a bittersweet moment to think of how different my pregnancy would be this time with him to cherish me, and then it was gone, drowned by his passion.
When we broke off, his lashes were stuck together and his eyes bright. I took advantage to make a run for it. I was quick, but he caught me halfway through the sitting room, scooping me up as if I were no heavier than his hanky and laughing at my efforts to get away.
His arms were a strong bind of corded muscle, holding me tightly against the excited pumping of his heart. I twined my hands around his neck, inhaling his scent as he carried me up the stairs and through our bedroom door.
Would he ever let me escape? Slip through his fingers and swim away on the tide? He kissed my lips, setting me down on the bed and blanketing me with his warm, hungry body.
<<
Never.
>>