Sexy as Hell Box Set (68 page)

He bent his head and kissed me soundly, shoving his tongue inside, and God, I couldn’t resist that. He massaged my breast then gripped my nipple and gave it a bit of a pull. I didn’t sag into him but kissed him back good and proper. He wrenched his mouth away, leaving me wanting, hungry, greedy and panting.

“Tell me,” he urged. “Tell me what the fuck it is you want, what you
need
.”

I stared up at him, blinking. “I would if I knew.”

“What?” He laughed. “You don’t
know?
Jesus Christ, what a surprise. Like I should have expected a different answer.”

He squeezed my nipple between finger and thumb and held it tight, increasing the pressure as he glared at me with such determination in his eyes I almost went weak at the knees. If I hadn’t had clothes on, that would have really hurt.

I wished I was naked.

“You need to stop playing games, woman. Either you bloody want me or you don’t. Oh, I know the pair of us have been fucking about, telling each other that we’re just friends, that we’re only helping one another out with our new partners, but we’re not. We’re sodding well not.”

“You might not be, but I am. I genuinely want you to make a go of it with Catherine.” I hated my lying mouth at times, and none more so than this occasion.

“Bullshit!” he said, taking another rough kiss, then dragging his lips to my earlobe, breathing hot air and, I’d swear, the pain he was feeling came out right along with it.

He knew there was more. There was more.

“It’s not bullshit,” I said, wincing as he tightened his hold on my hair—wincing and loving what he was doing. The pain in both places was increasing to the point that if he stuck his thigh between my legs and let me ride it, I’d come pretty fast. “She’ll be perfect for you once you’ve taught her a few things, I told you that already. All she needs is—”

“All she needs
is not me
.”

He let me go suddenly, and it took all I had in me to remain upright. God, the beast in him had come to the fore again, and I loved it—loved the Master.

“You,” he said, “are a liar. Most of what comes out of your mouth is rubbish, designed to hide your feelings.” He walked away to pace in front of the door, as though guarding my escape route. “I know there’s something in your past that has made you who you are today, but trying to forget it all isn’t going to help us move on together.”

Us? Together?

“Why would we move on together?” I asked. “We’ve already established that—”

“Stop it,” he said, in front of me again in an instant, his hand in my hair, finger and thumb back on my tit, him pushing me backwards to the bed. “Stop these games. I swear to you, Zara, if you don’t play by the proper rules from now on, I’ll walk out and you’ll never see me again. Is that what you want? Is it?”

Oh, God, he meant it. The fire in his eyes was plain to see. I’d pushed him way too far. What the hell had he and Ollie been talking about?

He shoved me and I fell onto the bed, the backs of my knees against the edge of the mattress. Still standing he straddled them, loomed above me, staring down with such menace in his eyes I knew I really should give him a snippet of the truth before he exploded in spectacular fashion. His cock tented his jeans—oh, yes, it tented them quite nicely—and I clenched my cunt muscles to stave off the stirrings of desire.

“I don’t know the proper rules,” I said. There, there was some truth. “All I know are mine and the games that I play. I don’t know any other way. Satisfied?”

My chest went up and down as I fought to catch my breath. It seemed as though my admission had taken all the air out of me, had left me weak and boneless, vulnerable—something I’d vowed never to be again.

“Is it that weirdo, Geoffrey?” he asked. “Was it him who made you like this? I know a lot about your time with him, but clearly I don’t know enough. I don’t know all the little things you’ve secreted away in your head, things that would explain to me why you act the way you do. Things that would help me to help you, to make everything better.”

“I can’t be helped, can’t be made better.” I stared at him, at the blush on his cheeks where he was getting either angrier or frustrated. Or both.

“How do you know if you’ve never given anyone the chance to try and be there for you? How do you know when you just push people away all the time?”

“Oh, for God’s sake, Victor, what—”

“He won’t help you, but I will.”

I smiled at him then, more of a sad smile than anything else, for the man who was trying too hard to fix me up, glue all the broken things back together so I resembled someone I’d once been before. But the cracks would still be there, and the pieces wouldn’t be quite right, no matter how carefully he patched them. I would always have that marred effect on the inside.

“I’m not with Ollie anymore,” I said, wanting to change the subject.

“I know.”

“Things with him were never going to be permanent.”

“I know that too.” He shook his head sadly. “And just so you know, I gave him a
bollocking about making you think we shared everything, him and me. There were things you and I did, reactions you gave that I would never,
ever
tell anyone. Do you understand?”

I nodded. Believed him too. I also believed that if the lump in my throat didn’t bugger off soon I’d have to get up off this bed and breezily ask him, with a wide smile and a cheery voice, to take me back to the villa. It was getting far too deep to swim in these waters. The current was too strong. But he lowered himself on top of me, pressing his hard cock to my slit and holding my cheeks in his hands.

“There are people we can trust in this world,” he said, mouth so close to mine, “people who were born to hold all our secrets. Family members, friends, lovers. And those people,
no matter what
, will
never
break your confidence. I’m one of those people for you, Zara, and if you remember nothing from our time in this room, you’d do well to remember that.”

He gently rested his lips on mine, barely brushed them across before getting up and leaving me feeling exposed and uncertain. He’d crawled in, got right up inside me, the clever bastard.

“I’m going to take you back to the villa now,” he said. “I have things I must discuss with Catherine, and then I have to decide what’s going to happen in my life next. It’s up to you whether you want to join me on my decision—as a friend, lover, submissive or Mistress, I’ll respect whatever you want, but I’ll admit I want you as all four. It’s time to stop being the player now, Zara, for both of us.”

He turned and strode to the door, opened it, went out, then shut it behind him. I sat and stared ahead, at where he’d just been seconds before. Already I was lonely, my soul screeching at me to get him back in here, or for me to chase him. But my head, ah, my head was another matter, and as it had in the past, it overruled everything else.

I simply could not give in. Couldn’t let someone into my life the way he wanted to be let in. No, even Victor didn’t have the ability to wipe the slate clean and make me feel cherished. Some things were just not meant to be, and there was an ugliness inside me that couldn’t be made to look pretty, no matter how hard he and I tried to dress it up.

The taxi ride back to the villa wasn’t awkward as I’d feared it would be. He held my hand, lacing his fingers with mine. My eyes stung a bit at that.

We didn’t speak, but I felt we didn’t have to. He no longer seemed angry, more determined than anything. I knew he was going to end it with Catherine, and I was pleased because it meant he’d finally get out there and find someone more suitable. That had been my plan, after all. I thought about what Ollie had said, about me looking at Victor not with my eyes but with my heart, and finally, fully acknowledged that yes, I was in love with him. But I knew me, knew how very broken I was, and it didn’t matter whether Victor wanted to fix me. I was sure, without any doubt whatsoever, that he wouldn’t be able to and he’d waste a good portion of his life trying only to have to walk away in the end.

When we’d finished last time, I’d parted with him for this very reason—because, even though I appeared a bitch from Hell, I still had respect for certain people, and to knowingly steal years of his life with him performing a useless task wasn’t something I could do.

I couldn’t do it now, either.

As the taxi drew to a halt, I spotted Catherine out the front of the villa, wandering up and down as though she didn’t know what to do with herself. I was glad the onions hadn’t affected her too badly, that they’d caused just enough of a reaction to have kept her villa bound so that myself and Victor had been able to get things sorted—that he’d been around to save me from that man.

That he was going to ask me to be in his life was a certainty, but, gentleman that he was, he’d given me options. We could be friends but nothing more. My conscience could live with that.

Once out of the cab, I walked towards the villa feeling oddly sorry for her.

She smiled and frowned at me at the same time—probably wondering why Victor had been in a taxi with me—but suspicion wasn’t evident in her eyes.

“Oh, you’re back!” she said, seeming to glide past me to Victor. “Did you remember to get the water, darling?”

I left them to it, going inside and straight upstairs, putting things in my suitcase and wondering whether I could get a commercial flight home tonight if I rang the airline in time. I couldn’t stay here any longer. Seeing Catherine broken hearted had never been on my agenda. Yes, I’d wanted them to split, but I didn’t fancy hanging around to see the results of my hard labours.

I could be seen as a cow, a horrible, conniving little cow, but it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered so long as Victor got the right woman in his life. If it meant Catherine cried a million tears, that wasn’t my concern.

Nobody was but him.

By the time I’d packed my suitcase, dragged a brush through my hair and re-applied my scarlet lipstick, the conniving cow in me had faded. Blended into a black and white background in my mind, replaced with a caged fox who wanted to pace, escape, snap at anyone who came close.

I moved around my room restlessly. In the hotel I’d wanted to do nothing but curl into a ball and hope the world wouldn’t notice me. I’d had an idea to make myself invisible and small and fade into nothingness. But here…no, here I was agitated despite the luxury. It was my domination of Ollie in here that made me feel that way, I was sure of it.

I’d gone too far on someone who had shown signs of not being into the scene, not up for it the way Geoffrey had been, and Victor, who may have complained, but the fact that he’d always come so spectacularly proved his enjoyment. Oh, yes, Ollie had a stop word he could have shouted out at any moment, but he was a stubborn bastard and I should have recognised that he didn’t want to look weak in front of me.

Not that I would have thought that at all. Submitting, taking pain and punishment showed strength of character, and actually I admired Ollie more now than when I’d first met him. He’d tried. He’d had a bloody good go at taking my lessons. But it wasn’t for him and he wasn’t for me. Maybe he’d take some of that humility into another relationship, though, not just in the bedroom but in all aspects. Perhaps then he’d get a girl who wanted more from him than his wallet and he’d find his attention would be held for longer than it took to get into her knickers.

I licked my lips. They were dry, so was my tongue, my teeth and gums. I needed a glass of water, and then maybe a gin to make sure that man from the alley’s face didn’t loom up in front of me, because once that started, once his smell, his touch and his words allowed themselves back into my memory, I wouldn’t be able to shake them, not without… No, that wasn’t worth contemplating. There was no one here to help me. Not even Victor, despite his good intentions. He wouldn’t be able to take it.

Leaving the bedroom, I padded silently, barefooted down the wooden staircase. The kitchen was empty and I poured myself a large glass of water, drank deep and then hunted for the spirits.

I located a half full bottle of Bombay Sapphire and poured a generous measure, adding a small splash of tonic. Taking a first sharp gulp, I heard voices coming from the courtyard.

It was Catherine’s I zoned in on first.

“But, Victor, you can’t just go. We’re only halfway through the week.”

“I have to, Catherine. My head’s a mess. This has all just been too much.”

“What do you mean? My allergy? I feel fine now, we can go upstairs if you want.”

“No, not the allergy, of course not the allergy.”

He’d sounded weary, like he, too, would like to curl up into a ball and fade into a deep and dreamless sleep. I had a sudden urge to wrap myself around him, like a huge set of quote marks, and hug him close. Sleep with him like that, so we were both just small, barely noticed punctuation in the huge book of life.

But I couldn’t do that so contented myself with peeking from the shadows out into the sunshine. Staring straight at them unnoticed.

Catherine was standing with her hands on hips, her flowery skirt flapping in the breeze. Victor sat on one of the hard chairs, legs apart, elbows on his knees like he had at the hotel. The wind was shifting his hair, stroking his cotton shirt against his shoulders. I wondered if he was cold, sitting in the cool gusts coming in off the lake like that.

“Well, what is it?” Catherine asked, shaking her head.

“It’s me.” Victor looked up at her. “I know that’s a cliché, and a terrible one at that, and you deserve so much more of an explanation but, Catherine, that’s the truth.”

“It’s you? How can it suddenly be you? You’ve been fine all week. Goodness,
we’ve
been fine, better than ever.”

There had been a wobble in her voice on that last sentence, and I couldn’t help but feel bad. She’d probably had more sex, kinky sex, in the last few days than she would in the rest of her life, and here it was, all about to come crashing down.

Would she be secretively relieved?

I sipped my drink, felt the first tickle of alcohol rush to my temples and calm the very tips of my frazzled nerves. Soon that stream of poison would spread and seep through the rest of me, allowing me the numbness I craved if not the release.

Victor stood, and I admired his arse in his dark denim jeans. He had a great behind, one of his best features, especially when it was pink from my paddle. I held back a little burp, then a whisper of a smile as a memory flirted with my mind’s eye.

“Catherine, yes, it has been amazing with you this week. I couldn’t have asked for more. But…” He cupped her elbows, held them steady.

“But?” She stared at him, eyes wide and deer-like, the way she did when she didn’t understand something or wasn’t following a conversation.

“But although I think you’re beautiful and charming and perfect for me, it’s just…”

Oh, Victor, just tell her.
I sipped my drink, let the sharpness soak into my tastebuds. He had to do it. He had to free himself from the woman who was turning cartwheels in the bedroom to have him. God only knew what a sight she’d been in that ridiculous outfit Victor had mentioned.

I swallowed and shuddered. It didn’t bear thinking about; neither did the thought of him using the VP paddle on her.

“I’m just not in love with you, Catherine,” Victor said, exhaling on the last syllable of her name, like it was a relief for him to have said it out loud. A big bluster of acknowledgment in his own head as much as something he’d put into hers.

“Oh, Victor, of course you’re not,” Catherine said, her face softening into a smile, the very opposite to what I’d expected her to do.

“What? What do you mean?” Victor had sounded as surprised as I was.

“Victor, poppet, we’ve only been together a short while. Love takes years to grow. We need to give it time and encouragement. Like a seed in the ground our love needs watering and tending. We need to keep the areas around it free of weeds and pests. Only that way will it grow tall and strong and capable eventually of touching the sky, making us feel like we can fly.” She cupped his cheeks in both of her hands, touched her lips to his. “We need to be patient with each other.”

The carbonated tonic fizzed in my stomach. Really? Seeds? Well, if that was the analogy then I was definitely the weed growing beside her delicate flower, but I had news for her. I had tangling skills, strangling skills, and I would take over that patch of earth for myself.

Shit, where had that come from? I didn’t want any damn bits of soil or have any stakes to claim. She could have Victor, if she was right for him, but she wasn’t, so I’d continue with my invasive, parasitic tendencies until she found somewhere else to go and be flowery and pretty and not make me sick to my stomach.

“Catherine.” Victor was unwinding himself from her as though she were a woven bit of ivy growing up a pole. “I understand that true love takes time, really I do, but I don’t think I have the potential to love you.”

“What, ever? Don’t be so silly.” She wasn’t being unwound; her sticky arms were sliding all over his body. “Just give it a few more months, a year maybe.”

“I have been giving it time. That’s what this holiday was for. I admire you, enjoy being with you, but it’s just that I’m in…” He shook his head, looked at the floor.

I held my breath. He was in what?

“You’re in what?” Catherine said, stilling and narrowing her eyes. “You’re in what, Victor?”

“It’s just that when I’m in the bedroom with you I feel like a different man to the one you want in your life, and the trouble is, that’s the real me. That’s the kind of man I am.”

Thank goodness he’d had the balls to say it. Good boy, Victor, you’ve come a long way.

I exhaled. So did Catherine, a great big sigh that puffed from her body.

“How can you possibly know what type of man I want in my life?” Catherine said. “I told you I wasn’t very experienced and I wanted you to teach me, show me, and you have.” She licked her lips, gave a smile that I suspected she thought was super-sexy but was actually super-drippy. “I’ve loved this week, and everything we’ve done, and now I’ll never be the same again. You’ve made me kinky, Victor. Kinky, and dare I even say it…?”

Victor tugged on his bottom lip with his teeth, shifted from one foot to the other. “What?”

“Rampant,” she said.

Oh, for fuck’s sake. The way Catherine had rolled the ‘r’ grated right through me. She could never be rampant, just the thought was laughable.

“So come on, sex god,” she went on, “let’s go and have some make-up sex and put all of this nonsense behind us.” She took his hand, tugged.

Victor didn’t move.

“Come on.” She turned and wriggled her arse as though inviting a slap.

I couldn’t help but think again of marking her buttocks with a cross with my bullwhip and seeing how eager she thought she was then for Victor’s brand of sadistic sex. How kinky she’d be.

“No, Catherine. I think it best I go. Let you enjoy the last few days here, in the sunshine. Naturally, I’ll send the plane back for you.”

She dropped his hand, her brow creasing into a frown. “You’re being serious, aren’t you?’

He paused, pulled in a deep breath. “I’m afraid so.”

“Dumb bitch,” I muttered, even though sadness was dragging through me.

Her expression had switched to one of absolute dejection. Loving someone and not having it returned was indeed an evil and twisted emotion that socked you in the guts no matter how familiar with it you were. No matter how many times it blew up in your face, it never got any easier.

She swallowed, tightened her lips.

Oh, don’t cry, Catherine.

I tried to project strong thoughts to her, sipped my drink again and found I’d practically finished it. Crying never helped, it didn’t make anyone love you. Useless bloody human emotion; fuck knows why it had been invented.

“No, don’t go,” Catherine said, folding her arms, but not defensively, more like she was hugging herself. “I will. I can’t stay here without you, Victor. Not with all of the memories of this week.”

“But it’s your holiday,
your
friend’s place.”

She tilted her chin. “That’s besides the point, and no, it’s not my holiday without you. I was only here because of you.”

“And I you.” Victor pushed his hand through his hair and then rubbed his temples. “Really, this was never my intention to come and split up with you, I wanted it to work, I really did.”

“Me too.” She touched the corner of her left eye and then tucked her hand back into the fold of her elbow. “Me, too, otherwise I wouldn’t have let you stick your willy up my bum, would I? I did that for you, you know.”

Victor pressed his knuckles over his mouth, shook his head a little. I saw pain flash in his eyes; he was still fighting demons over that one.

“And,” she went on, colour rising on her cheeks and her voice becoming higher, “that nurse outfit and the spanking and the way you gripped my nipples so tight I thought I’d pass out, and the hair pulling and the shoving my head on your cock—”

“Shit, you must hate me,” Victor said, both hands at his face. “I’m so sorry. Please, if I could make it up to you I would.”

“You can actually.”

Her voice was shaky; I was sure those words had been hard to say. Describing things that she’d never thought she’d do or have done to her must have been so far out of her comfort zone they were specks in the distance.

“What? Yes, please tell me.” Victor stepped up to her, held out his palms as if already offering what she needed.

He was just too damn nice. Catherine was a big girl. She might be a bit naive and really fucking annoying, but she’d known what she was doing with Victor. She’d consented, and not only that, she’d planned on doing all of that stuff with him. Hell, we’d had a conversation about it right before she went and seduced him, and then they’d stayed locked in the bedroom for days. Oh, she was a manipulative one all right, using guilt to try to hang on to her man.

“You won’t do it, Victor,” she said, shaking her head. “Even though it’s the right thing to do.”

“I will,” Victor said earnestly. “I promise, I will. Just tell me. I feel wretched, for everything. I should never have let it go so far. You’re too good for me, Catherine, I should have known that. I’m just a brute, a greedy brute who takes more than he’s offered every time.”

Catherine stepped up to him—close, really close—chest to chest, her arms hanging at her sides.

I didn’t like the look on her face. It showed determination, sure, but was also calculating. She reminded me of a shrew with her little upturned nose and her slightly weak chin, and the strawberry blonde of her hair didn’t detract from the image either.

“You really want to make it up to me?” she asked.

“Yes.” He nodded. Three fast up and downs of his head. “Anything.”

She smiled. It grew, that smile, until her cheeks balled. “So marry me, Victor. Make me your wife.”