Wildwood (25 page)

I found the novelty of the big city stimulating at first with so many new faces and places to look at. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not a total country mouse. I’d been to London before for the shopping and the sightseeing. But it was a bit of a shock to find out
how
much I had grown accustomed to quiet and space and solitude out in the country, and just how insecure I felt under those beetling buildings, how disorientated by the flash of a million different objects displayed in the shop windows and how much the constant press of the crowds jangled on my nerves after a while. I started to feel agitated. I couldn’t handle the traffic either; Ash had to take me by the arm when we crossed the roads because my brain seemed incapable of assessing the gaps between so many moving vehicles. I felt useless and that made me angry, and the more angry I felt the less I could tolerate the stink of fumes and the babble of unfamiliar accents and languages. When we came out of yet another Tube station onto the street and I got jammed by the flow of pedestrians against the stall of an
Evening Standard
vendor, I lost sight of Ash temporarily and for a moment I felt a surge of real panic. I was carrying the rucksack at this point and I clutched it to my chest. ‘Shit!’ I hissed through my teeth.

‘Are you quite all right, my dear?’ An elderly couple had stopped, and the silver-haired man spoke with old-fashioned enunciation.

‘I’m … OK.’ The woman had eyes milky with cataracts, but that didn’t stop her staring at me with a strange intensity.

‘Are you sure?’

Then Ash was back again and his hand was on my shoulder. But he only had eyes for the couple. Nothing was said, but for a long moment they glared at each other. Then the elderly man inclined his head and Ash bowed his too, the politeness between them cold and as keen as a razor blade.

‘Ashton,’ said the woman before they retreated into the maw of the Underground.

‘Who were they?’ I asked. Ash’s grip was uncomfortably tight on my upper arm.

‘Some of the people whose attention Deverick doesn’t want to draw.’

‘Well … Could they help us?’

His lips narrowed. ‘Only in the very resort. My enemy’s enemy is
not
always my friend. And there are worse people out there even than Deverick.’ Finally he turned his attention back to me. ‘Are you all right? What happened?’

‘Just too many people,’ I protested, shaking my head. ‘It feels like they’re climbing about inside my skull and giving me a kicking.’ I flinched as someone’s suitcase banged against my calves; the man swept on without apology. Looking thoughtful, Ash took the rucksack from me.

‘Let’s head across the park,’ he suggested. ‘There’s more room to breathe, and we can pick up the Piccadilly Line. We’re nearly done.’

‘I’m sorry.’

‘Well, how many of them would cope with being dumped in a wood on their own?’ he asked with a glance around at the press of people.

‘Ah. But you’re used to London, aren’t you?’ I was certain of that; he’d not bothered to consult any map as he’d led us on our winding dance.

‘I used to live here a few years back. It’s changed even while I’ve been away, mind you.’ He was no more forthcoming than that and I felt a twinge of disappointment. Ash kept himself a guarded secret. I knew next to nothing about him, after all these weeks: rather less about him than about Michael, in fact.

We crossed a busy street and headed into the public park, and I felt better almost at once. It was a beautiful breezy golden afternoon, once you were out from under the shadow of those vast buildings whose neo-classical lines reminded me uncomfortably of Michael’s office. The grass was close cut and worn in places and there was litter caught among the regimented flowering shrubs, so it didn’t approach the
half-tamed
exuberance of the Kester Estate, but there were majestic trees here too. I felt my shoulders lose their tension as we got away from other human beings and I smiled as I admired the mottled, bulging bole of a vast plane tree. We crossed under an avenue of horse chestnuts – always among the earliest in leaf, they’re the first to turn in autumn too and their bronzed leaves were tumbling already. I grinned cheekily at Ash. ‘Catch a falling leaf to make a wish … Is that real magic?’

He hitched the bag onto his shoulder. ‘It could be, in the right circumstances. Go on and try.’

Snorting, I rose to the challenge and set off in pursuit of a leaf. It was a bit childish, but I figured that if I could get scared like a kid by the big city then I could enjoy it like one too. It wasn’t as if I had much dignity to retain in front of Ash. I’m pretty athletic but the chestnut leaves seemed determined to dodge my grasp and I darted about in vain for a minute or so, snatching at thin air while Ash watched. When I finally caught one I whooped and brandished it in triumph.

‘Don’t speak your wish aloud,’ Ash warned with that crooked smile of his. ‘It’s got to be kept secret if you want it to come true.’

Grinning down at the fat fingers of the big leaf, now crinkled and ragged, I decided what to wish for and took a deep breath, shutting my eyes.

I wish
…

It was a silly superstition, but I put my whole heart into that petition.

When I opened my eyes again he was close enough for me to smell the bonfire tang of smoke on his clothes, and he reached out for me and cupped my face in his hand and kissed me, long and soft and a little tentative, his lips begging my forgiveness even as they stole my breath away. And all of a sudden my breast was full of autumn leaves whirling about
in
a wild dance, and my pulse was hot under his palm, and there was no doubt and no shame and no hurt any more because his tongue was on mine and his breath was mine and my blood was thundering to the beat of his own pulse.

After a while we broke the kiss just so that we could look one another in the eyes and see the delight shining there.

‘How did you guess?’ I whispered.

‘Magic.’

Then Ash kissed me again, drawing me up against him, and this time there was nothing tentative about it. I slid my arms about his neck. I was starving, and he filled my mouth with kisses that only increased my hunger. His hand was up under my T-shirt on the small of my back, skin on skin, holding me close. Our bodies burnt where they touched. My nails raked the nape of his neck. He kissed my throat and, as my head tipped back, I opened my eyes upon a deep cerulean sky filled with whirling golden leaves and I felt as if the whole world had been picked up by the wind and was dancing around us. But he couldn’t leave my mouth alone for long and he returned to it hungrier than ever. His hands clasped my bum cheeks and squeezed voluptuously, pulling me up even tighter against the delicious bulge burgeoning in his pants.

‘Do I have to catch another leaf?’ I moaned into his mouth, writhing my hips to make the most of the embracing pressure behind and the jutting hardness before. ‘I want this as well.’

His chuckling gasp tasted of sunlight on unfurling beech buds. God, he didn’t laugh often enough. ‘This you get for free. I’ve been wishing too, Avril.’

‘Really?’

‘Every day. Ever since the night I found you running about the lawn stark naked like a dryad.’ He laughed, shaking his head. ‘You beautiful crazy tree-nympho, with that stupid bloody climbing harness round your bum and your breasts all
scratched
and moss stains on your thighs … Oh, I’ve wanted you so much.’

Then what were you waiting for? Why did you keep pushing me away? I longed to ask, but I knew what the answer was: he’d been waiting for me to prove that he could trust me. ‘You took your time,’ I chided.

‘Now that I’m good at,’ he answered, and I didn’t miss the promise in his words. Our mouths melted together, tongues fusing. And then, somehow, yet again he managed to pull away. ‘I’ve got my limits, though. We … really should stop now,’ he warned, breathless. ‘Or else I’m going to have to have you right here … and that might draw some attention.’

God, I wanted him to fuck me right then and there. I wanted him to put me up against a tree trunk and shaft me senseless. I wanted him to throw me to the park turf where so many couples had lain and touched each other into a frenzy, and fuck me with my ankles over his shoulders. His erection was a knotted fist pushing into my belly. I could feel myself melting against his hardness, grown so hot and soft and slippery that he could have plunged his hands into me and moulded me like warm wax to any shape he pleased. ‘You’re right,’ I acknowledged, biting his lip and running my hands down his hips, my thumb skimming his imprisoned cock.

Ash gasped out loud and lunged to catch my ear lobe in his teeth. ‘Stop,’ he growled. Bright little points of pain danced sparkling down my neck, stinging my nipples with their electric tingle. ‘Jesus. Please. Just stop.’

I pushed him away. Our eyes locked. ‘Promise you’re going to fuck me,’ I said, and I don’t know if I was demanding or begging. ‘This time. Promise.’

‘Oh.’ His eyes were like green stars and he was shaking with the effort of reining in the overwhelming imperative of his flesh. ‘I promise. Trust me.’

‘All the way.’

‘I promise.’ He stooped to kiss my lips one last time. Then he touched them softly, tracing their full lines with his fingertips, as if sealing his kiss inside me. I felt my spine turn to shimmering mercury. He held me tight for another moment longer, his hard cock an oath sworn in stone. ‘Come on,’ he whispered.

It was a good job he had that long coat of his to spare his blushes as we walked on. My own legs seemed to have lost all co-ordination. He held my hand tight, his fingers interlaced with mine, and luckily he knew where he was going because I wasn’t paying attention to anything but the brush of his body against mine. He could have walked me off the edge of a cliff and I wouldn’t have noticed. I hardly registered the renewed press of the crowd as we descended into the bowels of the earth again, sharing a single step as we rode the escalator, and the warm foetid breeze of the tunnels billowed up to meet us. I didn’t mind the scurry down the tiled corridors or the wait on the platform. I was too happy to care.

Our train turned out to be the most crowded yet; perhaps it was the beginning of the commuter rush home. There were no seats available so Ash took one of the overhead straps and pulled me snug up against him with the other arm, slipping his hand beneath my coat. The rucksack was my charge, nestling between us. He was my only support as the train lurched into motion, and I leant hard into his chest and thigh. His grip was unmistakably possessive, but despite all temptation we weren’t touching each other up; my mound was pressed against his hip and Ash’s splayed fingers were equally firm but unmoving on the highest curve of my bum. We didn’t even kiss, though his face was inclined to mine, his expression grave. A pulse beat, slow and hypnotic, in my groin. It was the strangest, strangest thing I felt then. I was aroused – horny beyond words, slippery with readiness, weak at the knees – and
yet
, for all my aching pussy and my fluttering breath, an extraordinary sense of peace was what filled me. No impatience. No anxiety. No greed. He could have held me there forever and I would have been content to stay that way. I felt as if he were already inside me and there was no more to fear. I felt as if I were already his. I felt surrendered.

I’ve no idea how long that journey lasted. I was in another place altogether, a place I’d only previously visited in passing.

‘This is our stop, isn’t it?’

I shook myself out of my trance. I’d forgotten I was supposed to be the one guiding the way to Miranda’s flat. Squeezing out of the carriage we made our way upstairs and onto the street. I was familiar with the route and it wasn’t hard to find her apartment block, a tall red-brick Victorian building. As I stood in the porch searching the list of names over the electronic lock Ash moved up to embrace me from behind, sliding his hands over my torso and cupping my breasts. If Miranda had responded to the buzz I don’t think I’d have been able to speak coherently. But the doorbell went unanswered.

‘She’s not back,’ I pointed out after Ash had run his tongue up my neck and circled the sensitive rim of my ear. My voice came out husky. ‘She’s probably still at work.’

‘We’re a bit early,’ he murmured, his fingers closing deferentially on my proud nipples. ‘We can wait for her. I’ll try and think of some way to pass the time.’

The words made me shiver with delight. ‘Where? I know where she keeps her spare key, inside, but I don’t know the combination for this door.’

‘Hm.’ Ash reached out over my shoulder and hit one of the other intercom buttons, seemingly at random.

A female voice answered: ‘Hello?’

‘It’s Serge,’ said Ash, leaning in to the speaker. ‘Can you buzz me in?’

‘Oh right – come in.’

The door buzzed and he pushed it wide. ‘Serge?’ I mouthed at him.

He shrugged. ‘The first name that came into my head.’ Then he pulled me inside. Miranda’s apartment block had been converted from a railway hotel, as I remembered, and still boasted elaborate glazed tiles in deep greens and blues and an openwork wrought-iron lift in the centre of the lobby, cables and pulleys exposed for all the world to see. Miranda had claimed that the rats and the leaks in the guttering were original features too but I’d had to take her word for that.

‘Fourth floor up,’ I said, pushing the button for the lift. As we waited for it to descend he took me in his arms and we kissed again, slow and dirty. Ash slipped his fingers experimentally down the loose front of my trousers and tickled the skin below my belly button, making me giggle and squirm. His fingers brushed the front panel of my knickers, finding heat and the rough lace of my pubic fleece underlying the smooth triangle of cotton. ‘Oh,’ I said appreciatively.

His eyes were wicked.

The inner and outer lift doors folded open and then closed again with a great clashing of metal and, as we started our ascent, Ash pushed me back, took my wrists and spread them wide against the wall of the elevator cage. I furled my fingers around the metal bars and bit my lip. He liked that, my arms held out, leaving my body vulnerable. He sank to his knees before me, opening my coat wide, and sucked my nipples through my T-shirt and the bra beneath, wetting the cotton so that if they weren’t prominent enough before they now stood out like boiled sweets. There wasn’t much time; the lift was slow but we would get to our floor soon enough – and we were visible on every floor as we passed. Ash pulled up the front of my shirt to tongue my flat belly and my navel and, while his mouth was at that, his
hands
were busy too on my belt and fly. Those combat trousers were really baggy; when he got the zip down they hung loose enough to expose the whole of the front of my panties, which were a hot pink today. He slipped a finger beneath the fabric to stroke me.