The Man In The Mirror

by Georgia Le Carre

  He placed a hard kiss to the pulse in my neck and whispered in my ear, his hot breath tickling me. “Where do you think you’re going, little Charlotte?”

  Pulling up my dress to reveal my bare buttocks, I twirled it against his groin. “I have to … er … get Zackary up for the day.”

  “You had … er … a long night… you’re allowed to sleep in.”

  I turned around and stared into his beautiful eyes. I love a man when his eyelashes are all wet and stuck together. “Don’t you really mean to say that I’m allowed to fuck in, because I’m already wide awake.”

  He was amused, but only for a fraction of a moment, then he looked away. My full focus on him had made him uncomfortable. He tilted his body to the right. Raising my hand, I placed it on the mottled, scarred part of his face and turned his gaze back to mine.

  “You’re not allowed to hide from me any longer,” I said and crushed my lips to his.

  I wasn’t sure if he was the one who staggered at the contact, or if it was me … but his hold tightened around me to maintain our balance. My free hand slid across his ass to pull his hips closer still. I slipped my other hand around his neck and plunged my tongue as far down his mouth as it would go.

  His hands pinched my nipples, the pressure pulling at the delicious strings of lust throughout my body. My body trembled as his hand slid down my front to palm my mound, his fingers slipping towards my creamy pussy. I gasped aloud as he slipped two fingers inside of me.

  His thrusts sent both of my hands around his neck, my hips riding and thrusting against the assault. To my great surprise, I climaxed almost immediately. My groan was breathless as I came against his fingers … my juices spilling out and running down his hand. It was a wildly arousing sight especially when he brought his hand to his mouth and licked it clean.

  I slipped out of my dress and threw it on the dry floor outside the shower. With both hands on his chest, I pushed him gently back into the stall, so he was now under the cascade of water. My clit was still throbbing painfully between my legs. I wanted him where I could bury his face properly into my pussy and do that thing he did so well. I needed him to soothe the maddening, insatiable ache.

  There were so many things I wanted to do to him, so many ways that I wanted to touch him, and be touched in this stall, that I didn't even know where to begin. I wanted his dick filling me up until I thought I would explode, stretching my walls, and reveling in the waves of pleasure that would wreak through my body, but at the same time I wanted to come instantly again and to feel the hot spurt of his semen inside me.

  His eyes bored into me as he slanted his lips over mine. The water cascaded down on us, my rock-hard nipples were crushed against his chest. Grabbing his penis, I fisted the thick, rock hard length with both of my hands before sliding it up and down my soaked sex.

  He spun me back to face the tile wall. With his hands around my thighs, he jutted out my hips, spreading my ass completely open for him.

  “Brett,” I called out helplessly.

  He leaned over to whisper into my ear. “I love the way you call me …”

  “Brett,” I called again, my voice the most sultry I had ever heard it.

  Bending his knees, he aligned himself to me and circled my opening with the head of his shaft.

  I shut my eyes, my head thrown backwards as I anticipated his plunge into me. No one had gone deeper than he had. I waited, my teeth biting down painfully on my lips, but he took his time, delaying his complete possession until I was close to being driven mad.

  “Brett,” I rasped out loud, my hips writhing with anticipation and encouragement.

  “Tell me you want me,” he ordered, nipping the shell of my ear, while his fingers flicked my painfully sensitive clit.

  “I want you,” I said. “I want you right now, Brett. More than anything else …” I could barely catch my breath. “Please … please, fuck me. Fuck me out of my mind.”

  “That’s good enough for me,” he muttered, just before he grabbed my hips in his big hands and slammed into me so violently my legs left the floor.

  I slapped my hands against the wet wall, again and again, needing to tear or break something with the wild sensations that were coursing through me. My grunt was nothing short of animalistic. Every sense in me became alive and electrified, the feel of his cock inside me, the taste of the water pouring into my mouth, the sound of his breathing, the touch of his body surrounding me, inside me. It was euphoric.

  He drove into me mercilessly.

  My responses to his thrusts were completely feral. Just the instinct of a woman being taken by a man. I writhed, and jerked and twerked my hips against his.

  Ferocious ecstasy tore through me. With his hand on the small of my back he bent me even lower. I clenched my eyes shut and let him pound into me.

  His hands were digging into the side of my hips, and his balls slamming against the curve of my buttocks. “Charlotte,” he roared out. “Oh fuck … Fuck.”

  More than anything I was loving the fact that I was able to do this for him.

  “How can you feel this fucking good?” he growled. “My God, I’m gone …”

  And he was.

  I freed one hand and circled my clitoris with ferocious strokes. He slammed into me one last time and we both exploded, a scream tearing from my mouth.

  With his face buried in my neck, he pumped into me, wrenching every last ounce of uncontainable lust out of our bodies. I felt floaty and lightheaded. From somewhere seemingly far, but still close to me, I heard the grunts from deep within his throat and my labored breathing.

  “Brett,” I cried, tears rolling down my face.

  He held me desperately to him. “You were made for me,” he swore. “No one else. You’re mine, Charlotte Conrad. I swear it you’re mine. And one day you’ll carry my name too.”

  I loved his words, relishing them and holding them close to my heart. “I’m yours,” I sobbed, even though I was almost too scared to believe him. In that moment reality was too far away to disturb either of us. We clung on to each other, desperately, our bodies stuck to each other with the mind-blowing realization that we were both as close to love as either of us had ever come in our lives.

  Mrs. King was far from our minds.

  Chapter 46

  Brett

  The next day I was invited to dinner with Charlotte and Zackary. I looked at the childish writing on the formal card and smiled.

  They were waiting by the front door when I arrived home the next day, and I wondered what the reception was for, but at the welcoming smile on Charlotte’s face I felt my insides warm with love for her. Zackary had his hands in hers, and for a moment I felt a slight pang of unwarranted jealousy toward my son.

  Then the feeling was gone. They were the two angels in my life.

  I got out of the car and Charlotte sent Zackary forward. I watched as the little man approached. “I would like to extend an invitation to join me and Charlotte for dinner,” he said, and for a moment I thought that my heart would burst. No longer was he cowering away or reluctant to even look me in the eye. I didn’t even correct the me and Charlotte mistake he made.

  Lowering myself so we could be at eye level with each other, I looked into his eyes, and smiled gently.

  “I’d love to have dinner with Charlotte and you.”

  His grin was infectious.

  I straightened and looked at Charlotte. Mr. Boothsworth stood a short distance away from her, but I didn’t pay him any mind. I stared intently at her, wanting my gaze to convey my gratitude for the way she was turning the light back on in the various aspects of my life.

  I strolled down to the main dining room with Zackary and Charlotte, and soon we were seated at the grand table. Not once had I eaten at the table before this.

  I noted my meal for the first time in as long as I could remember.

  Charlotte sat beside me, and more times than I could count my gaze would slide to her … roving over her face. I drowned in the b
lue pools of her eyes. The night was perfect, punctuated by laughs, and the twinkle in her eyes as she expertly handled my son. I could have lived that dinner again and again for the rest of my life. The most wonderful Groundhog’s Day scenario.

  She was a joy, through and through, and the moment Zackary agreed to run the errand of asking for our dessert, I lifted my hand from her lap and began to trace little circles up and down her arms.

  “I’m enjoying my time with Zackary,” I said to her. “But I need to be inside you. All day at work I couldn’t think straight. I won’t be able to manage myself for much longer.”

  She turned pink as she tried hard to brush off my hand. She looked nervously around to be sure that we didn’t have an audience. “You need to give your full concentration to Zackary right now,” she said to me. “It’s rare that you have time to spend with him in this way. Since you both finally have a chance to develop a bond …”

  At the sound of voices beyond, she turned to see who was approaching, and I took advantage of her distraction. The moment she turned back I captured her lips in mine.

  Her moan was instant. And the shot of pleasure to my groin was unmistakable. I shifted uncomfortably at the stiffening of my cock. My hand slid into her skirt just before the sound of heavy footsteps approached. I pulled away from her and couldn’t help smiling at her. There were stars in her eyes and just like me she couldn’t look away.

  Until Mr. Boothsworth cleared his throat.

  I turned at the interruption.

  There was a strange expression on his face. “Madam is here,” he announced, just before my wife appeared at the entrance to the dining room. She was dressed unusually casually in a pair of jeans and a green top, but she killed the effect by loading up on jewelry.

  For the longest time she stared at the both of us and I boldly held her gaze. I was annoyed to say the least. I had told her to finish her rehab course. There was no need to return, but of course, she had to immediately disregard any sane advice.

  Charlotte instantly began to rise from her chair, but I shot out an arm and placed it on hers. She sat back down.

  Jillian stared at my hold on Charlotte’s arm with an incredulous gaze. She didn’t say a word, and only turned when Zackary and Mrs. Blackmore came into the room with the dessert. He was as careful with the little cake as he was with everything else, but when he realized his mother was there he immediately stood to attention. The smile was wiped from his face and he stared up at his mother as if he was uncertain whether he should go to her.

  “Madam.” Mrs. Blackmore bowed in greeting.

  Jillian turned her gaze to Zackary.

  “Mummy,” he eventually called out.

  “Come to me,” she ordered in a shrill voice.

  Mrs. Blackmore relieved the plate from the boy and he ran to his mother and hugged her legs, but it was an unnatural gesture. She turned to look at Charlotte, her mouth tightening again. “Why are you not wearing your glasses?”

  “I don’t wear them all the time,” Charlotte replied.

  Slowly, Jillian roved her gaze around the room, and then finally settled it on me. “What’s going on?” she asked. “What are you doing here?”

  My response was simple. “This is my house.” And it held the answers to all her questions.

  I saw the realization dawn in her eyes, and almost smiled with satisfaction. Finally, she knew what it felt like to watch the other person bring their lover to the house. She patted Zackary's head, and turning around walked away without another word.

  Chapter 47

  Charlotte

  Over the next two days, I tried my very best to steer clear of Jillian, however the same courtesy was not extended back to me.

  Before her return, I could count the number of times I personally had any interactions with her, but in the wake of her return she made it her goal to be more present and involved in every aspect of the household’s affairs.

  With exception of Mr. Boothsworth, who seemed to be particularly unaffected by Mrs. King’s obtrusive presence, the rest of the staff seemed to be on high alert as we tiptoed about with our duties.

  I was overseeing the packaging of a picnic lunch for Mrs. King and Zackary to take on an afternoon away, when Bella and Carrie walked into the kitchen.

  Mrs. Blackmore and I both lifted our heads from the tarts and fruit we were packing. Carrie came over to the tray of flapjacks sitting in the middle of the table. She pulled out a chair quietly and almost whispered to Mrs. Blackmore. “Can I have one of these?”

  Mr. Boothsworth plopped his empty mug of tea on the desk. The jarring sound made us all jump and we gave him a questioning look.

  “What is happening?” he asked, his voice unusually loud, or maybe we were all just unusually quiet, we couldn’t tell anymore.

  “What do you mean?” Mrs. Blackmore responded.

  “The entire household seems to be walking on egg shells. Am I missing something?”

  “Lower your voice,” Mrs. Blackmore muttered.

  He frowned in confusion. “Why?”

  “Mrs. King has been strange since she returned and it gives me the hebe jeebies.”

  “How so?” Mr. Boothsworth asked, not as familiar with the intricacies of women’s ways.

  “She doesn’t go out as much anymore,” Mrs. Blackmore answered, “and she seems unusually quiet. It’s like the calm before the storm.”

  “Not quiet,” Carrie corrected, “Watchful. I swear I feel as though I’m about to get fired at any moment.”

  “Me too,” Bella added from her stance by the refrigerator as she drank some fruit infused water. “What surprises me the most is how much time she is now spending with Zackary. She put him to bed last night, Charlotte, did she not? And now today they’re heading out for the afternoon, picnic basket and all. I’ve worked here for two years and this has never happened. The woman hates the outdoors. She brought the house down because of a spider in her room.”

  “She’s also been lurking around a lot near the Master’s wing. I don’t know what she’s doing there,” Mrs. Blackmore added with a sigh. “The last time I nearly died of fright when I went in there to check on the towels and she was behind the door. I swear I feel like I'm going to pass out from all the tension. Thank God, Mr. King has gone away for a few days to France, or my poor nerves will never be able to settle down.”

  “Charlotte what about you?” Mr. Boothsworth called when I remained silent. “Do you also think Madam is behaving strangely?”

  I didn’t know what to say. Brett wanted to take me with him to France, but I knew it was the wrong time. I didn’t want to give her a chance to poison the boy so I stayed, but I almost wish I had gone. Especially now with everyone looking at me for an answer. Luckily for me, Carrie saved me from having to answer that loaded question.

  “Charlotte seems to be the luckiest,” Carrie said. “By spending so much time with Zackary, Madam has cut her workload in half, while the rest of us are using a magnifying glass to polish the floors.” She turned to me and pouted to show that she did not mean the rest of her words. “I envy you.”

  “I don’t think so,” Bella refuted. “Somehow I feel as though this is all hugely centered around Charlotte. I haven’t actually seen her speak to Charlotte since she returned. She’s been passing out instructions through everyone else. Do you think that she is upset because you somehow got Zackary close to his father again?”

  “That is true,” Mrs. Blackmore said slowly. “All this started when she came back and found him at dinner with Zackary and Charlotte.”

  Everybody turned to look at me and I could feel the color burn up my throat until the shrill of the intercom rang right then through the room. Everyone jumped, especially me. At first no one moved, then Mr. Boothsworth muttered, “Talk of the devil,” and got up to answer it. We all listened to her cold voice come through. When the call ended, he turned to us. We all stared at each other, some of us, not me, had silent fright in our eyes.

  “You hear
d her,” he said. “She wants us all in the drawing room.”

  We all trooped into the exquisite drawing room where I had arrived for my interview. So much had happened since then. It felt almost as if that was a different person. I looked around the room remembering the wariness I had felt.

  “Is something funny, Charlotte?” Jillian asked.

  I turned to meet her gaze. “No, there isn’t.” I could feel the other staff exchanging peculiar looks with each other.

  She went straight to the point. “My emerald bracelet is missing.”

  I didn't think it was possible for the room to become quieter, but it did. Everyone froze.

  Jillian went on. “I was away for a little while so that’s probably when—”

  Mr. Boothsworth spoke up. “Madam, I’ll review the security footage and handle this myself.”

  “No, Barnaby,” she said coldly. “I’ll handle this myself. I don’t want to waste time and I won’t house a thief a moment longer than necessary. I’ve sent some of the security guards from our London offices to all your rooms to investigate. We should be able to figure out the truth very soon.”

  All our mouths dropped open in shock. She had sent strangers into our rooms without telling us, without having us there to see what they were doing with our private stuff. I shouldn’t have been surprised, but I was. I think I already knew what the outcome of this ‘search’ was going to be. Around me people shifted, but I did not move. I just stared at her. She wouldn’t look me in the eye. She opened a book and started reading it.