Wicked Beauty

by Susan Lewis

  They were still kissing as he drew her down on to the blanket, his tongue deep inside her mouth, his fingers pressing in hard between her thighs. She spread her legs wide, moving her hips up and down in response to the rhythm of his hand.

  ‘Now,’ she murmured, as his mouth descended to her breasts. ‘Fuck me now.’

  Turning her over, so that she was on her hands and knees, he lifted her bottom high and guiding his cock to her opening he plunged all the way in.

  ‘Yes, oh my God, yes,’ she gasped as he drew back and drove in again. He did it again and again, then grabbing her hips he rammed her with short, sharp bursts, as though stoking her full of his own lust, harder and faster and more brutal than she could stand, though she kept panting for more. He knelt over her and she turned her face for his kiss, but he pushed her head down and pounded even harder. Then he was lifting her up, so that her back was pressed tight to his chest, while his hands grabbed her breasts and smothered her nipples.

  ‘Yes, yes, yes!’ she cried, as his fingers moved between her legs. Her head fell back on his shoulder as he began rubbing her savagely, then his tongue was in her mouth feeling the vibrations of her moaning as he continued to pound her. He pushed her forward again, keeping his hand between her legs, chafing her with the roughness of his fingers, and feeling the exquisite softness that enveloped him starting to tighten and pulse in a way he could never mistake.

  ‘Do it! Do it now!’ she demanded, pushing her bottom higher. ‘I can feel you, all the way inside … Oh Christ!’ she gasped, as the first explosion of her climax erupted like a meteor shower. ‘Oh God, oh God.’

  Grabbing her hair, he pulled her mouth to his and pushed his tongue harshly inside. His hips were pummelling her violently, rocking them both in a way that was beginning to thrust the seed from his body into hers. He held her tight, taking them both into a crashing tidal wave of sensation that finally weakened her limbs so that she sank to the ground beneath him, panting and whimpering and clutching his hands in her own.

  For a long time they lay as they were, allowing their heartbeats to steady and breath to quieten, while the sun warmed their bodies and the breeze flowed around them like whispers. The heady scent of grass and drone of insects mingled with birdsong and the distant roar of the sea, while far overhead a plane trailed a thin white line in the sky.

  Eventually he rolled on to his back, causing her to murmur a protest as he withdrew from her body. She turned to look at him, then moved in closer, throwing a leg over his and resting her head on his shoulder as he raised an arm to embrace her.

  ‘I missed you,’ she whispered.

  He glanced down at her, then kissing the top of her head, he said, drily, ‘I thought I was a stranger.’

  She grinned. ‘You are. My very own stranger who fucks as beautifully as he makes love.’

  Hugging her, he tilted her mouth to his and kissed her again. Then his eyes held hers as, pushing a hand into her hair, he looked searchingly into her face, almost as though he couldn’t quite believe her beauty. After a while he brought her mouth back to his, and kissed her so tenderly and passionately that the strength of his own feelings was like a tightening force around them both.

  ‘How long are you home for?’ she asked, settling more comfortably into his shoulder when finally he let her go.

  ‘A week. Maybe longer.’

  ‘Will you come to London?’ she said, knowing that he’d want to spend as much time here as he could, for it was the one place that he could relax and be himself in a way he so rarely could while he was working.

  ‘Maybe,’ he answered. ‘When are you leaving?’

  ‘Tomorrow. Early.’

  ‘So I have you for tonight at least,’ he said, hugging her. ‘Is there anyone else at the house?’

  ‘Only Petey, and Gloria, one of the cast. No one you have to see if you don’t want to.’

  ‘I don’t mind being polite,’ he told her, his eyes shining with mirth.

  ‘But you look tired. Exhausted, even. And I want you all to myself.’

  After kissing her again, he turned his gaze back to the sky and thought of how preferable that would be to having to deal with anyone or anything else at the moment, even himself. Closing his eyes he thought back over all that had happened in the past few days, things that were sure to haunt him for some time to come, for after the débâcle at the airport one man was dead and another might not make it. But only he seemed to be seeing that as an issue: for everyone else all that mattered was the successful transfer of the sixteen million dollars, which, in the end, had happened.

  ‘What are you thinking?’ she asked.

  Keeping his eyes closed he hugged her briefly and said, ‘Believe me, you don’t want to know.’

  ‘Try me,’ she suggested.

  For a moment he was tempted, but to let the words out here would be like violating a sacred place, and besides, he needed to protect her from the truth, not burden her with it. But it was hard, so damned hard, living day after day with the lies and the guilt, allowing her to know only a part of the story, while he was sucked deeper and deeper into an existence he despised, and should have had the courage to turn his back on right at the start.

  ‘Tell me about the film,’ he said, reaching for her hand.

  Slipping easily into his escape route, she watched her fingers link round his, as she said, ‘We’ve got some difficult scenes coming up this week. That’s why Gloria’s here. We’ve been running lines, and rehearsing.’

  ‘What are the scenes?’

  ‘They’re new. They weren’t in the original stage play, so you won’t know them.’ Then, after a short sigh, ‘You know, I think poor Robert’s finding it hard to focus again, after his brother-in-law’s death. It’s obviously been a terrible time.’

  He shifted slightly to make them both more comfortable. ‘Still no news on the mistress’s whereabouts?’ he asked, having had little time to read the British papers these last few days.

  She was still gazing at their hands, loving the stark yin and yang contrast between them. ‘None that I’ve heard,’ she answered, turning her mouth to his neck and biting him gently.

  His eyes drifted closed again, and once more they lay quietly, absorbing the twittering sounds and feeling the joy of being together as though it were an elixir.

  Eventually, realizing he was almost asleep, she rolled on to him, then pushed herself up so that she was sitting astride him.

  His eyes came open, and as he looked up at her she could feel her desire starting to stir again. Was there no end to her need for this man? No limit to what she would do for just one kiss, one gesture, one small, unprompted reassurance of how deeply he felt? She leaned forward to plant her hands either side of his shoulders, and a slow, tempting smile curved her lips as his fingers circled her throat.

  ‘Just how dangerous are you?’ she murmured, her eyes narrowing as they tried to probe the shadowy depths of his.

  ‘It depends,’ he responded with an ironic flick of his eyebrows, his thumbs pressing down on her trachea.

  She sat watching him, as though waiting, even daring him to choke her, until finally his hands released the pressure, and descended to her breasts.

  Feeling him growing hard beneath her, she raised her hips to take him into her again, then watching his face as she rode him gently, insistently, she felt her love growing and growing in a way she knew she’d never be able to express.

  ‘Come here,’ he said gruffly. Drawing her to him he held her tight in his arms, and gazed into her eyes as they moved slowly but inexorably towards another shared release.

  It was a long time later that he pulled her to her feet and playfully waggled his eyebrows as she watched him dress. Then with his arm round her shoulders, and hers round his waist, they walked back through the field to the car.

  ‘I think I’ll get rid of the others so we can have the whole evening to ourselves,’ she said, putting her hat on again.

  ‘You should do that,’ he told
her. Then brushing her hair back over her shoulders he said, ‘Incidentally, I spoke to Ernesto on the way here, who tells me you’ve been very generous with your boxes of magic, as he called them.’

  She grinned sheepishly. ‘Didn’t we agree that I’d continue my little private enterprise while you disapproved in silence?’

  Laughing, he said, ‘OK, that was the deal. So what about the studio? Are you pleased?’

  Pulling his mouth down to hers so she could kiss him, she said, ‘You spoil me, and I love you for it. And now you’re here I think you should be my first model, which means we get to christen it together.’

  Slapping her playfully on the rump, he helped her back into the saddle and watched as she turned the horse round. ‘I’ll meet you at the stables,’ he told her.

  ‘Do you want to eat or shower first?’ she said.

  ‘I think shower,’ he answered.

  As she rode away, graceful and resplendent, he was wondering how many men were fortunate enough to receive such a homecoming and how many marriages could survive the pressure theirs was almost constantly under, with so much need for secrecy, and such frequent separations. Only a woman like Stacey could handle it the way she did, turning it into a kind of game that seemed to enrich their relationship and make them closer than ever. He truly was blessed and determined never to forget it.

  Ten minutes later, arms around each other again, they were crossing the stable-yard to the kitchen, totally oblivious to Gloria, who was standing on the terrace above, watching with amazement and envy the perfect and erotic picture they created, him fully dressed, and her in only long leather boots and a riding hat.

  Petey was watching too. ‘I’d say it’s time for the little playmates to leave,’ he murmured in her ear, as their hosts disappeared into the kitchen.

  Gloria failed to hide her irritation. ‘But we all came in the same car,’ she reminded him tersely.

  He smiled. ‘That was before the mad and savage master returned,’ he said, knowing she wouldn’t have the faintest idea what he was quoting from, mainly because she didn’t seem to have the faintest idea about anything.

  She turned back to where Elwyn was unsaddling the mare, her view partially blocked by the silver Mercedes that had been abandoned at the centre of the yard. She wondered if Stacey and her husband had already made love, and felt certain they had – not only because of the time Stacey had been gone, but because surely no man in his right mind would be able to resist a woman who rode to greet him like that.

  ‘I’ve just realized I don’t know his name,’ she said to Petey.

  ‘Really?’ he responded.

  Feeling gauche again, she pursed her lips and tried to sound superior as she said, ‘What does he do?’

  Petey’s thin nostrils flared with boredom as, sighing, he propelled her back towards the sitting room.

  Wanting to slap his face, she shrugged him off, and stomped on ahead. They were perfectly normal questions that anyone would ask, but that creepy little faggot had once again made her feel about as sophisticated as cod and chips. Anyway, she didn’t need him to tell her what was going on around here, because with her own eyes she’d seen enough marijuana to keep a whole city jazzed for a month. In fact, now she came to think of it, she might be doing herself a favour if she reminded him of exactly what she had seen in this house, for it could have the happy result of making him think twice before trying to turn her into a joke with the cast.

  Suddenly emboldened, she said, ‘You know, I really do want to meet him, Petey, so why don’t you go off and set it up, while I wait down here in the lounge?’

  Petey stopped, and looked at her, clearly surprised, though no less condescending than before. ‘Sophocles,’ he said finally. ‘The mad and savage master is from Sophocles, in case you didn’t know. He was speaking of lust.’ With wickedly gleaming eyes, he added, ‘Is that what you’re feeling now, sweetie, after seeing them together like that?’

  Immediately Gloria’s cheeks coloured, for it was true, it had turned her on.

  Laughing delightedly he said, ‘You aren’t the first, but be warned, as I told you earlier, she’ll share him with no one.’

  ‘But what about him?’ Gloria challenged. ‘Does he share her?’

  Petey’s eyes glowed, but he took his time answering, looking her up and down and appearing increasingly amused. ‘No,’ he answered. ‘They’re as exclusive a couple as you’ll probably ever meet – and you, sweetie, are treading on such dangerous ground that if I were you, I’d go upstairs, pack my bags and be at the car in ten minutes flat or this little flight of fancy you seem to be on is going to have a very bumpy landing.’

  Chapter 5

  RACHEL AND ANNA were just returning from a walk on Hampstead Heath when they spotted William Haynes amongst the small clutch of journalists that was still camped outside the house.

  Rachel’s mouth instantly turned dry. ‘Are we expecting him?’ she muttered, almost resentfully.

  ‘No,’ Anna answered, tightening her link on Rachel’s arm as someone pointed Haynes in their direction.

  Neither of them spoke as he crossed the road to meet them, nor could he be in any doubt from Rachel’s expression that the mere sight of him was enough to turn her heart over with the pain of why he was in her life at all, never mind the dread of what he might be about to tell her now.

  ‘Mrs Hendon,’ he said, smiling pleasantly. ‘Mrs Maxton.’

  Rachel looked at him, and struggled with the urge to scream at him to go away. ‘I hope you’re here to tell me you’ve found Katherine Sumner,’ she said shortly.

  His expression showed regret. ‘I’m afraid not, but I do have some other news,’ he told her, falling in beside her. ‘Initial tests are showing that there could – I stress could – have been someone else in the flat at the time your husband was murdered.’

  Rachel’s footsteps faltered. ‘What kind of evidence?’ she asked, her voice partially drowned by a passing lorry.

  ‘Skin cells, hair, footprints in the carpet,’ he answered.

  She wanted to ask about the semen on the sheets, but knowing that the DNA results were still at least two weeks away, she bit the question back.

  ‘All we can be certain about at this stage,’ he said, as they began to cross the road, ‘is that someone else, with a smaller shoe size than your husband, and much darker hair, certainly visited the flat at some point around that time, though we have no way of knowing yet whether he, or she, is in any way related to the crime.’

  Rachel’s heartbeat was unsteady as they pressed through the journalists to get to the front door. She didn’t speak to them. She had nothing to say.

  Once they were safely inside Haynes turned to Anna, saying, ‘Perhaps you could rustle us up some tea, if you wouldn’t mind.’

  Realizing he wanted to speak to Rachel alone, Anna glanced at her sister, then after giving her arm a reassuring squeeze, she went off to the kitchen, as Rachel and Haynes started up the stairs to the sitting room.

  ‘I’m expecting a friend,’ Rachel told him, waving him towards an armchair. ‘She should be here any minute.’

  ‘This shouldn’t take long,’ he assured her.

  Too anxious to sit down herself, she walked to the fireplace then turned back to face him.

  ‘Does the name Franz Koehler happen to mean anything to you?’ he asked.

  Her blood started to turn cold. ‘Isn’t he something to do with the Phraxos Group?’ she said guilelessly.

  He nodded. ‘Do you know him?’

  ‘Not personally.’

  ‘Did your husband?’

  ‘Not that I’m aware of. Why? Do you think he’s the other person who was at the flat?’

  ‘The small shoe size makes it unlikely,’ he said. ‘Mr Koehler is a tall man, quite well built.’

  ‘Then why are you asking about him?’

  ‘Mr Koehler’s company is heavily involved in defence industry investments,’ he answered.

  She looked at him, hold
ing firmly to his eyes, though her mind was starting to reel as she tried not to think where this might be going. ‘But mainly in the US,’ she replied. ‘Not here.’

  He agreed, then said, ‘Mr Koehler and Katherine Sumner were involved, on a personal level, for a number of years,’ he stated. Then when she didn’t respond, ‘I take it you knew that when you hired her?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘Did she ever discuss Mr Koehler, or the Phraxos Group, with either you or your husband?’

  ‘No. At least not with me.’

  ‘What about with your husband?’

  ‘If she did, he never mentioned it.’

  ‘Do you know any of the other Phraxos directors, or shareholders?’

  ‘If I do, then I’m not aware of it,’ she replied. Her hands were bunched tightly together, while her whole body was turning rigid with dread. ‘I’d like to know why you’re asking all these questions,’ she said. ‘What have they got to do with what’s happened?’

  His smile was thin. ‘We’ll know that when we have the answers,’ he responded. Then after a beat, he said, ‘Are you absolutely sure you have no idea where Katherine Sumner is now?’

  Her eyes widened with shock. ‘Do you seriously think I’d keep that kind of information to myself?’ she answered tightly.

  ‘Frankly, I’m not sure,’ he responded.

  Her mouth fell open.

  ‘There are those,’ he informed her mildly, ‘who believe you know considerably more about your husband’s relationship with Katherine Sumner than you’re telling.’

  Rachel was offended and enraged by his words, but they were also starting to frighten her now, for their implications were almost impossible to gauge. ‘Why should I hide anything?’ she countered. ‘My husband’s dead. Don’t you think I want to find the person who did it?’

  ‘That person being Katherine Sumner?’ he said, making it a question.