Alistair cleared his throat and finished his previous thoughts, “Of course, it doesn’t really matter, boy or girl. We can have others after—”
Others? “Wh-at?”
The way she lengthened the word made him grin. Many others. “At least one more,” he informed her, checking out the way her nipples hardened as she took off her bra.
“Alistair Connor. No, no, no.” She stopped undressing to ogle him in the mirror with her hands on her hips. “At least one more? What does that mean?”
Keep undressing. “Exactly this. I want to have at least two children with you.”
She shook her head, and pursed her lips, looking at him as if he were a disobedient child. “Nooo way.” Hmm, maybe. I like the idea.
He smiled and dropped the subject. He had seen the joy sparkling in her eyes before she looked away to unzip her skirt, and her long midnight-black braid brushed her spine, tantalizing his senses even more. She was undressing piece by piece, slowly unwrapping herself as if she were a Christmas gift just for him. Her sheer black thigh-highs made her legs even more tempting. When her hands went to her back to undo the garter belt, he already had a raging erection jutting out from between his strong legs. In a long step he was behind her.
“Stop.” His strong hands gripped hers and pulled them in a vise behind her back.
For a moment, she didn’t understand until she saw the feral look in his eyes.
Alistair enforced the grip on her wrists and slightly tugged at her arms, directing her to the armchair.
There were no words. No explanations given or required.
He sat her on the edge of the armchair and put her feet over its arms as he crouched between her opened thighs, blowing delicately into her folds.
Sophia gripped the back of his head, gasping and moaning in undisguised delight, knowing the most enjoyable of pleasures and tortures was about to start.
Alistair loved hearing the little moans she couldn’t avoid letting out. He knew she enjoyed receiving oral sex as much as he liked giving it to her. He flashed her one devilish smile before lowering his head to capture her clitoris in his mouth.
Sophia couldn’t stop the delighted gasp that escaped her when his tongue began feasting on her. Arching at the contact, her hands became even more entangled in his silky, long hair as she pulled him against her. She put her feet over his shoulders for better support and his skilled fingers entered the play. Her thighs opened even more, inviting him deeper and his sinful tongue began to lap her faster and faster. A cry of pleasure left her mouth as she bucked and ground her pelvis against his face and fingers in a desperate attempt to come. “Please. Faster, more. Now.”
Paying her words no heed, his tongue never ceased its explorations as he leisurely devoured her. His face was buried in her; he was completely immersed in her. He was drowning and didn’t want salvation from her sweet taste of honey and ambrosia.
“Mmm…you’re delicious,” he growled, taking her to a delirious state. “I can’t get enough.”
Her ankles crossed over his nape and he knew that she was almost there.
“Oh. More.” Her cries couldn’t be contained anymore and her hands clutched desperately at Alistair’s hair. “Don’t stop. Now.”
It felt as if his tongue was touching her everywhere and she grabbed her breasts, rolling her nipples between her thumbs and forefingers.
There was no restraint left in her, Sophia was on the verge of losing all control. She began wildly rolling her hips on his face. The climax took hold of her body and she burned in the fires of her own pleasure, in quick and strong spasms around his fingers.
He turned her on the chair and in one swift motion plunged into her core.
Another cry left her mouth, “Yes!”
He grabbed her braid and yanked her head to kiss her.
Alistair tasted of mint and of her. But while his lips were soft, his hand in her hair and the way he hammered into her was rough, as she had learned to like, bending her to his will until Sophia was compliant underneath him.
He knew if he played her well, she would have a second orgasm.
“Come with me. I’m so close,” Alistair whispered. He wouldn’t last much longer as the whole unconscious seduction and the oral sex had left him painfully aroused. Thrusting faster, he fueled the fever on them, wanting the sensations to linger but knowing he was going to come as soon as she did. His hand moved to circle her clitoris and a heated pressure made its way again down Sophia’s body.
Alistair’s name left her mouth in a low, husky cry. She fell face-down in the armchair, panting.
His climax followed a thrust later and he threw his head back, with a loud groan, stilling, enjoying the burning down his spine, concentrating on his loins.
Alistair rested his cheek against her back, his fingers caressing her arm.
“Drained,” she rasped. “You take it all from me. I feel turned inside out.”
“I love you.” He couldn’t resist and his fingers moved to her lower belly, his hand flattening against it. A few minutes after, he shifted, picking her up in his arms. “Let’s get in the shower.”
“Oh, no!” she exclaimed, looking into his eyes. “No, no, no.”
His rich, masculine laugh filled the room. “I’m not that virile, Sophia.”
“Yeah, right,” she grumped. “I’m sure they studied you to make Viagra.”
United Arab Emirates, Dubai
In a dimly lit room
Saturday, December 25, 2010
2:45 a.m.
He opened his computer, fuming. He had already sent the airplane ticket for Washington Silva, but somehow he had gotten the first name all wrong. He considered asking for a reimbursement but dismissed the thought after a few seconds.
He ordered another first class airplane ticket for the same date and time.
The destination was London and the traveler’s name was spelled Uóchington Silva.
He had never seen a stranger name. It made no sense to him to write such an important and well-known name as Washington all wrong.
He sent the order and booked a suite at a five-star hotel in the name of the man, from January to July.
He knew it would require more than one or two months to have everything in place. One could never be too cautious.
Chapter 12
The Harlequin Suite
3:52 a.m.
“You need me,” she whispered in his ear, shedding her clothes but for the bright starry high-heel stilettos.
Not anymore. He tried to tell her, but the words didn’t come out. Every nerve in his body had been uncapped and sensitive; his stomach was on fire with venom; but his lust had been awakened. I don’t want you anymore.
Her chocolate eyes watched his. They seemed to be demanding a confession as she crawled down his body and took him in her mouth.
He willed his body not to respond to the stimulus to no avail.
He was a grown man and had learned to like it. He got erect and aroused.
And he hated himself for it.
He climaxed in her mouth and bile rose in his throat as he saw the chocolate-brown change to soft-blue.
“You see? You like a good fucking blow job,” she said, and slurped loudly as if his penis was a lollipop. “I’m better than she will ever be.”
She sat on his stomach, rubbing herself on him, and crushed his lips with hers, her tongue probing his mouth to find entrance.
He needed air but he would never give her the pleasure of getting inside his heart. It had been given. And he didn’t want it back.
“Why do you resist me? I love you.” The soft-blue eyes begged for something he would not give her. “I’ve given you my heart. You have to give yours back to me.”
He would resist her. But he was unable to fulfill his primal urge to escape. He was being held by three pairs of hands, all over him. Sweet, delicate hands.
He kept his lips sealed, willing his mind blank and his heart void.
“You’s no bett
er than I.”
The flawed English and strong Greek accent startled him and he saw a different pair of eyes, bright azure eyes, which he hated with all his being.
It was then that she slapped him.
Ethan sat up in bed, gulping air into his closed throat, a bitter taste filling his mouth. He rose and walked to the bathroom, washing his face and brushing his teeth. Still the acrid taste lingered. He went to the living room, picked up a bottle of water and he threw himself in the armchair, putting his legs on its footstool.
Let them all be damned. Eve, Barbara, and Calista. He was still trembling from the nightmare. He drank from the bottle and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. It’s not water I need.
He picked up a bottle of Blue Label whisky and sat back, drinking directly from it. The liquid burned down his throat and he drank more.
And more.
Before the sun stretched its pale rays on the horizon, Ethan had passed out in the living room, completely drunk.
Craigdale Caisteal
5:33 a.m.
Sophia came back from the bathroom and curled in on herself, drawing her knees against her chest. She tried to relax and sleep a bit, but it was useless. Cramps she had forgotten about were coming in hot waves.
I hate this. She shook Alistair’s shoulder gently. “Alistair Connor. Wake up.”
“Hmm?” he groggily murmured. “What?”
“I need some pain killers. Please,” she moaned.
He instantly sat up, turning on the dim light. “Was it too soon? Did I hurt you? What are you feeling?”
“Calm down, I just have a headache,” she lied.
It’s not a headache, but you’ll tell me later. As he walked to the dressing room to get some medicine and water, he thought again how Sophia and Tavish were alike with those little lies of theirs, trying not to bother others with their problems.
“Here. This will make you feel better.”
When he lay down again, he drew her close, wrapping one arm around her and keeping her snug to the warmth of his body. He nuzzled her until her body relaxed in his arms.
“You make me feel better,” she whispered. Sophia loved being close to him and found comfort in his strong and careful ways.
Almost as if he knew what she was feeling, Alistair started to rub her stomach.
As she closed her eyes to sleep, Sophia thought of how wonderful it would be to give him a baby.
9:08 a.m.
A muffled knock on the door cut into Alistair’s thoughts. He had been awake for half an hour, enjoying the feel of having Sophia in his arms.
He woke her up with a tender kiss.
She stretched lazily, smiling up at him. “Good morning, Handsome.”
“Feeling better?”
She nodded and returned the kiss. “Nurse MacCraig, you have magical hands. You’re my personal magician.”
“Thanks,” he smiled smugly. “Gabriela is outside, Beauty.”
“Hey, don’t you get too convinced.” She stretched again, yawning. “Open the door for her while I step into the bathroom. She can open her special gift from us in here, okay?”
“Just a minute,” he shouted, jumping out of bed. He shoved his legs into his jeans and hurriedly pulled a T-shirt over his head, opening the door to welcome an eager Gabriela.
Wearing a thick plush white jacket with a hoodie with delicate green leaves embroidered over a red turtleneck sweater and trousers, Gabriela was the epitome of Christmas spirit.
“Good morning, Daddy,” she entered the room, toed off her flats and stepped delicately on his bare foot. Hugging his strong leg, she beamed at him, “Come downstairs so we can open our gifts.”
“In a few minutes.” Alistair closed the door and walked with her propped on his foot. Her giggles filled the big room and Alistair’s heart. “Santa left a special gift for you here with a note.”
Sophia came out of the dressing room with a big green box from Harrods with a red and green bow tied around it. She paused to enjoy the homely scene; Alistair was running his hands through his long midnight-black hair, trying to tame it, while Gabriela, perched on his foot, was talking excitedly about how many gifts Santa had left under the Christmas tree.
“Good morning, Angel.”
Gabriela squealed, running toward her and hopping from one foot to another, excited. Impatiently she asked, “Can I see my special gift? Did you see Santa?”
“Now, where is my good-morning kiss?” Sophia asked, dropping to her haunches to receive many little kisses on her face and a very tight hug from her daughter.
“Now, can I open it?”
The three of them sat on the rug. Handing her a small red envelope, Sophia said, “First, read the card.”
“Dear Gabriela, This is a spe-cial gift. Part of a se-cret. San-ta Claus.” Gabriela tilted her head to the side. “I don’t understand, Mamãe.”
“You will,” Alistair said, helping her untie the bow.
Her curiosity grew and showed on her face as she lifted the lid off the box, undid a smaller red bow and peeled back the layers of green tissue paper. She peered inside and her light blonde eyebrows furrowed.
There was another hamper inside, this time made of natural wicker.
Alistair removed the hamper from the box, putting it on the floor in front of her. He lowered the small handle and undid the loops that closed the box. “Now, open it.”
Gabriela looked expectantly from Alistair to Sophia, who encouraged her with a smile. Carefully, the little girl opened the lid and peered inside. Her heart-shaped mouth dropped open in awe.
Inside the box there was a doll, with a remarkable resemblance to a sleeping one month old baby girl, with just a shadow of real black hair, wearing a long white dress, with all the things a baby could need.
As her daughter didn’t move, Sophia stifled a smile and picked up the doll as if it were a real baby in the crook of her arm, cuddling it against her breast.
When the doll opened its green eyes, Gabriela exclaimed, “But you didn’t get fat!”
Alistair laughed. “Fairy, this is a doll for you to take care of while your mother gets fat.”
“I will not get fat.” She slapped his bicep. “Stop saying that.”
Gabriela turned her head to Alistair, still with a flabbergasted look in her eyes. “She will, won’t she?”
With an impossibly happy grin, he took the doll from Sophia’s arm and put it on Gabriela’s and brought the little girl onto his lap. “Aye, Gabriela, she will. Now, let me show you how you carry your baby doll properly.”
Sophia was enthralled, watching a sunray touch the entwined hairs of her husband and daughter. They were a striking contrast between light and dark. Alistair’s was still messy from sleep, thick ink-black locks falling over his forehead and eyes; Gabriela’s white-blonde hair was combed neatly with a tiny white bow securing it on one side.
Sophia felt then she was on her way to paradise.
The Elm Courtyard
11:37 a.m.
The snow that had been falling steadily since the night before and had left the courtyard painted in white.
After changing into their skiing clothes, Gabriela and Ariadne announced that they wanted to make snow angels and ran outside with Alistair and Sophia. After a few minutes of feeling envious, Michael huffed and informed them he was joining the girls because they didn’t know how to make proper snow angels and he would teach them.
Sophia and Alistair laughed at the poor excuse. He sat on the bench and snuggled her on his body as they watched the children play.
Lachlann and Tavish came out of the Game Room, drawn by the happy sounds and squeals and joined the adults.
“Okay, children, enough playing in the snow for today,” Sophia announced after a while. “You’ll catch a cold.”
“Aaah, Mama, you’re such a party pooper.” Gabriela pulled her hand. She looked at Alistair, who was helping Michael get up. He only shook his head, straightening up.
“Just a li
ttle bit more. Pleeease,” asked Ariadne.
Behind his brother’s back, Tavish looked at the children and put his index finger against his mouth. He made a snowball, and threw it, hitting Alistair right in the middle of his shoulders.
Sophia and the children laughed out loud.
Alistair pivoted on his heels to glare at those who were behind him.
Purposely, Tavish was still brushing his gloves, with a naughty smile on his lips.
“Oh, really?” He squinted and lowered himself, picking up a handful of snow with a naughty grin. This reminds me of such happy times. “Prepare yourself.”
Another snowball whizzed past Alistair’s arm and hit Tavish in the middle of the chest. They turned in the direction it had come from. Sophia was looking heavenward, whistling.
In a few moments, the calm, peaceful courtyard was a snowball battlefield.
“See what you started?” Alistair mumbled to Gabriela, who was hidden with him behind one of the elms.
Gabriela giggled, and picking up the ball he offered her, threw it in Lachlann’s direction, the one closest to her.
“Jesus! Are you all children?” Alice shouted. “Father, you should know better.”
The children, Lachlann, Tavish, Alistair, and Sophia froze.
“You’re all soaking and—” A snowball hit her from behind.
Leonard was leaning on the wall near a three-ball snowman. When Alice glared at him, he put up his wet gloved hands. He calmly informed her, “Not me. It was him.”
“No, it wasn’t, it was them,” Tavish pointed toward Ariadne and Sophia.
Alice rolled her eyes at the two of them and shrugged. The wetness was worth the happiness she could see once more in the faces of her family. Grinning, she towed the children inside, saying that she was going to soak them in a nice, hot bath before lunch.
TRUST Series 1-8 Page 117
