‘It won’t faze me, no matter how many scars you’ve got. You’re strong, you’ve got a good body. They’re just marks, Jay, nothing more.’ She laughed softly. ‘Everything works, and that’s what matters.’
He grinned. Beamed even. He looked like an adolescent boy, discovering the phenomenon of his erection for the very first time.
‘Indeed it does. Indeed it does.’
He inclined over her again, finding her mouth for a kiss this time. A deep one, long, and moist and probing. Reaching down, he cupped her bare breast as he tasted her, thumb delicately strumming her nipple.
When she was gasping for air, he broke away from her, his bearded face still alight and happy.
‘Look, I want to make love to you. Long, slow, lazy love. But not out here in this bloody freezing lane.’ He nodded to the field, the stile. ‘I want to treat you to a bit of luxury, not a roll around in muck and snow, with twigs sticking into our arses and goosebumps forming on all the bits of us that aren’t actually rubbing together.’
‘We could go back to the Teapot. I think Kat’s gone off somewhere with Greg. I think he’s got the afternoon off too.’
Sliding his hands to her waist, Jay lifted Sandy with him as he rose to his feet. While she fumbled with her bra catch, her fingers really chilly now, he zipped himself up. She felt a pang of loss, denied the sight of his magnificent cock rising again.
‘No, let’s go to the Waverley. Get some room service. Indulge ourselves.’ Covered again, he reached across and deftly fastened her bra for her, then her top, as if he buttoned up women’s clothing every day. ‘Would you like that?’ he asked, pulling her jacket tightly around her again, to warm her up.
‘Yes, I would. That’d be great.’
Yes, it would be fun to see more of the infamous Waverley Grange. She tried to imagine it as he led her along the path. She’d only seen the public rooms so far, but she couldn’t forget the blatantly erotic art. Did the rooms and suites have kinky pictures and photographs on their walls, to turn the guests on? She only really had local gossip to go by, and Greg’s tall tales. But then he might have been exaggerating to turn Kat on!
When they rounded the corner, the lovers and their car had gone, and the coast was clear. Her heart lifted as they strode back over the cold earth, towards the Aston. What could be better? The infamously naughty hotel, a bit of luxury … and Jay.
Chapter 11
Chintz! Good God, she’d never seen so much of it in her life!
The décor of the most notorious hotel in the entire borough area wasn’t quite what Sandy had expected. It was cosy. Almost homely. Intimate but old fashioned. There was a picture of a topless woman on the wall, but it was tastefully bland and conveniently soft focus.
Jay had a medium-sized room, nothing too ostentatious. It had obviously been serviced since he’d left it that morning. There were fresh tea and coffee fixings on the courtesy tray but, as she wandered around, he rang down for a proper afternoon tea to be brought up for them.
Courtesy copies of several local magazines lay on a chest of drawers by the window, along with the Kissley Gazette, the county paper and the Financial Times. There was also a very plain but obviously expensive attaché case beside the papers, along with a high-end laptop, a personal organiser and two mobile phones.
What do you do, Jay?
It was a change from Who are you? she supposed. The FT and the electronic paraphernalia suggested business to her, and she puffed out her cheeks, feeling uneasy, her stomach crawling inexplicably. She’d wanted to come here, but suddenly it didn’t seem quite such a good idea. Suddenly, she didn’t want to know who he was, or what he did. Not at all. In the café, and down Adultery Alley, things were simpler. Just sex, and maybe a little bit of fondness.
The sound of springs being depressed by a body’s weight made her spin around.
Jay was sitting on the side of the bed, watching her intently. She could see he wanted her. He’d been partially aroused most of the way here in the car, even though he’d driven in silence, apparently deep in thought. Once or twice he’d compressed his lips as if grappling with some difficult decision or problematic concept, but, when he’d glanced at her, his grey eyes had still been fiery with sexual heat.
Right now, he looked perplexed, as if his body was tugging him one way – towards fucking her – and his mind was pulling him another, towards something far less pleasant.
‘What is it?’ Better get it over with.
She walked to the bed and sat down, not touching him even though she wanted to. The knot of his erection, straining the denim at his crotch, called to her fingers, and she wanted to see not just it but also the rest of his body, to assure him that any number of scars couldn’t diminish his raw attractiveness.
He didn’t reach for her, even though she sensed he wanted to just as much as she wanted him to. His mouth twitched again, and he rubbed quickly at his beard, biting his lip.
What the hell is it? Something was chipping away at what she’d thought was über-confidence. Even his concerns over his scarring hadn’t affected him quite this way.
‘What is “what”?’
Oh Christ, he’s married!
The classic snafu. People did these things. Men on business trips, playing around. Women bored or disappointed with their husbands, seeking solace elsewhere. All kinds of reasons for all kinds of people. She could understand it in some cases, but it wasn’t her scene. It would fuck things up pretty irrevocably.
She opened her mouth to speak, not sure what would come out of it. ‘You’ve got a look on your face as if you’ve got something unpleasant to tell me. Why don’t you just spit it out?’
‘And if I don’t, is that the end of things? Can’t we just have our fun, no questions asked?’
Heat twisted in Sandy’s chest. She didn’t want to feel this way, nagging and needy. She wanted to be sexy and sophisticated, take her pleasure while she may. Jay could be gone tomorrow, or the day after, without a backward glance. It was probably better not to know too much about him, less painful that way.
Yet still she wanted to know things. Discover his secrets. Oh hell, she wanted to lay claim, and that made her a bloody fool!
Jay was on his feet beside her, tall and towering. She turned to face him, and he looked strong and rocklike and watchful. Unapologetic too, she noticed, but vaguely defensive.
Why would he feel that way? He was the one who’d said it was just fun between them. Just sexual exploration. The image of him on his knees before her, out in the cold gardens beyond the window, rose before her eyes. She remembered the feel of his hot mouth and his nimble tongue beleaguering her sex, so real that her clit burned with need. But still she couldn’t speak, and Jay frowned at her silence, as if frustrated by it.
‘You didn’t ask any questions when you let me lick your pussy.’
‘Must you be so crude?’ How ridiculous a thing was that to say? It wasn’t crude. It was true. And she’d loved it. She’d love it again right now too, despite his sudden evasiveness.
‘OK, but what do you want me to call it?’ he countered.
‘I don’t know. But I wish you hadn’t done it.’
‘Liar. You enjoyed it. The fact that we’ve only just met doesn’t stop you responding to what I can do to you, does it?’
‘It might do now.’
‘Bollocks.’
She glared at him. He looked back, face more masklike than she’d ever seen it. His scars were suddenly starkly vivid, but he was still the most handsome man she’d ever seen. And in his eyes, something … something indefinable. Fugitive. Almost familiar.
‘Come here,’ he said. ‘Close the gap between us and let me touch you. And then tell me that you can’t get wet for me again.’
‘No.’
‘Coward.’
‘Fuck you!’
‘I wish you would.’
Anger swirled, desire coiled into it, indivisible. She’d never been a coward and she wasn’t one now. She’
d take this strange secretive arrogant bastard of a man and use him. Then throw him away, and try to make the best of her life and her café, chalking Jay Bentley down to experience and the desire to experiment.
She stepped towards him and grabbed his head, dug her nails into his velvety scalp and dragged his face down to hers, almost smashing her mouth against his.
His arms came around her in a perfect smooth movement, like an exquisitely worked mechanism, as if their bodies were a single unit functioning as one. She tried to thrust her tongue into his mouth and assert control, but it didn’t happen. Couldn’t happen. His tongue pushed in between her lips and subdued her. Effortlessly.
Because, she realised fatalistically, it was still what she wanted, despite everything. She still tried to fight him though, because she knew that was what he wanted.
Their tongues duelled, and Sandy grabbed at Jay’s T-shirt, wrenching at it, pulling him closer. She grabbed at him, her nails digging through the cotton cloth as she growled at him, trying to mutter ‘bastard, bastard’ around the intruder in her mouth.
His answer was to haul up her skirt, bunching it with both hands to bare her bottom. Holding her with one big sinewy hand around one cheek, he suddenly slapped the other lightly, once, twice, three times.
‘You fuck!’ she snarled, tearing her mouth free of him while her heart thundered and her sex beat wildly in incomprehensible pleasure. He slapped again and her clit throbbed, swollen and excited. Unable to help herself she ground her crotch against him, circling, parting her thighs. Anything for pressure.
‘I am a fuck,’ he purred in her ear, the rasp of his voice raw and thrilling. ‘But you still want me all the same.’
She tossed her head, as if that could shake free the feelings. But even if 99.9% of sex was in the brain, she couldn’t dislodge the hunger, the pure rampant lust she felt for Jay, right now, and all the time, really. All she wanted was for him to touch her, immediately, and bring her off. Then immediately after that, to throw her on the bed and fuck her to within an inch of her life.
She couldn’t look him in the eye, but he made her do it. Dropping her skirt, he cupped her face, a palm to each cheek, and compelled her to meet his gaze.
‘What do you want?’
‘I want you to stop thinking you can do whatever the hell you like to me, and just leave me alone,’ she lied, aware that, if he did leave her alone, she couldn’t bear it.
‘No can do. Stop lying and tell me what you want right now.’
She couldn’t imagine how she’d ever thought his eyes were cool and oceanic. They were metal now, full of sparks struck by his conflict with her. His entire face almost seemed to glow, his glare was so intense, so lit by sex.
‘I want you to touch me and make me come and then I want you to fuck me.’
‘And?’
‘And what? Isn’t that enough?’
‘Not for you.’
‘OK, I want you to spank me and mess about with me, and do all the kinky things you’ve done with other women in the past. You might think I’m an unsophisticated small-town girl that you can bamboozle and play fast and loose with.’ She glared back at him, wanting to do things to him – slap, bite, leap on, wrestle to ground, ride to oblivion … He was strong, but she had fury and lust enough to best him, she knew it. ‘But I’m a match for you, you bastard, and you know it!’
Jay laughed, throwing his head back and baring his fine white teeth at her. Infuriated, Sandy raised a hand to land him a blow across the face, but he caught it effortlessly and held it behind her, at the base of her spine. A shiver of raw fear augmented her lust. He could hurt her for real if he wanted to. He’d rehabilitated his damaged body, and probably made it twice as strong as before, and the danger of him losing control made liquid desire well and ooze between her thighs.
Up came the skirt again, roughly, in a tangle, and an eye’s blink later that same hand was at the delta of her sex. Without finesse, without his usual measured guile, he shoved two fingers inside her, curving them to seek her G spot while he roughly thumbed her clit.
‘No,’ she moaned, rising on her toes, meaning yes, yes, yes! His hand rose with her, relentless, masterful, handling her with uncouth peremptory enthusiasm. He squeezed and rubbed, pressing her clit hard, almost cruelly. She actually shouted, ‘Yes!’ now, coming helplessly, drenching his hand with her honey.
The rippling clenching pulsations of her orgasm made her head go empty of all thought. It felt light and transparent. She swayed on her feet, falling against him, trapping his hand and reaching up with her own free one to hold onto his rocklike shoulder. Her face, mouth open, pressed against his chest, and she was dimly aware that she actually drooled on his T-shirt. And he held onto her, fingers and thumb, giving no quarter to her spasming pussy, making her come again and again, even when the pleasure was almost pain.
‘Oh please,’ she whimpered at last, begging for respite while her body surged again.
He stopped. Immediate response to her request. His fingers slid out of her, but stayed between her legs as he gently cupped her sex in a light hold, as if to soothe it. He let go of her hand behind her back too, and slung his arm around her, supporting her, holding her safe. Automatically Sandy’s arm went around him, holding him far tighter, the lost little girl in her afraid he’d leave. Again.
Again?
She blinked, dragged in a breath. No, that was completely wrong. She was mixing him up with someone else. An impossible dream of a man, a fantasy. Someone so different from Jay’s ruthlessness and unstoppable voraciousness that he might as well have been a different species.
‘Are you OK?’
His voice was soft and solicitous, and for a moment past and present, fantasy and reality phased and blended again.
‘I’m fine,’ she said crisply, still shaken, but grabbing for the shreds of her normal self who had issues to face with this man, much as she desired him. As she began to pull away from him, and he began trying to stop her with a firm hand against her back and a sly sweet kiss against the side of her temple, a brisk rap at the door made them both jump.
‘Oh hell!’ Because he let her, she sprang away from him, flustered. She patted her hair, smoothed down her skirt, and glanced nervously at the door, waiting for it to fly open.
‘Relax,’ said Jay, with infuriating male casualness. He closed the space between them, brushed the long hanks of her hair away from her face in a way she’d been incapable of doing herself, and cupped her cheek for a moment. ‘Relax,’ he repeated, then strode to the door.
Sandy darted to the window and made a pretence of looking out, seeing nothing. Her mind was too full of impressions, memories, whirling excitement. When Jay opened the door, she reluctantly looked back towards it.
‘Your tea, Mr Bentley,’ said the cheery young woman who entered the room. She was pretty, blonde, and had a mischievous twinkle in her eye. She also had a very short black skirt on, which Sandy noticed Jay noticing, typical man.
‘Thanks, Maria, could you put it over there please?’ He gestured to a space on the sideboard, close to where Sandy was standing. Well, lurking.
Wearing astonishingly high heels as well as her micro skirt and crisp white blouse, Maria glided across the room and set down what was really quite a large and heavy tray laden with tea fixings and an assortment of cakes and biscuits. To divert herself, Sandy eyed them up. Exquisitely fresh and beautifully served, with immaculate white napkins, china, cake forks and the lot. Full marks to the Waverley for their English afternoon tea.
‘Shall I pour for you?’
Something about the blonde woman’s voice made Sandy frown. It sounded as if she was offering much more than efficient room service. Much, much more. Maria’s mouth was very pink and rather shiny, as if she’d been licking her lips. Maybe she preferred the taste of hard but hunky men like Jay to fondant fancies and butter biscuits? It certainly seemed that way. Her trim bottom swayed as she sashayed across the room, heading for the door and, as her blue gaze
flickered from Jay to Sandy, her tongue flicked out across her lower lip, and her naughty grin widened.
How the hell does she know?
Surreptitiously, Sandy drew in a breath. But she couldn’t smell sex, just the Waverley’s light but rather exotic potpourri. Maybe working here imbued the saucy Maria with a more finely tuned detector? It certainly seemed that way when she winked at Sandy over Jay’s shoulder while he was giving her a generous tip.
More than we got in the Teapot, I’ll be bound! Although maybe you think you’ve given me mine in kind?
As the door closed behind the retreating Maria, Sandy realised that Jay was watching her, smirking.
‘You seem to get on with her pretty well. Does she always bring your room service?’
No, don’t do this. He’s not your boyfriend. You’re not sure you even like him. Well, not properly. And especially now …
Jay’s dark brows lifted, the grin widened.
‘She’s friendly and helpful, and she works on reception and around the place. How am I supposed to act with her?’ He advanced across the room and Sandy tried to retreat, but couldn’t. ‘Are you jealous?’ he asked, looming over her as she stood beside the window, pressed against the layers of chintz and floating white nets.
She could smell his cologne, and the faint scent of earth from the frozen field. There was a hint of foxiness too, sex, desire, and perspiration, totally intoxicating.
‘How can I be jealous?’ Her chin lifted and she met his grey eyes with all her courage. ‘I only met you yesterday, and I’m not even sure I like you. Especially right at this moment.’
‘Ah, but we’ve also made love twice.’ He moved closer, his face almost touching hers. She could almost imagine she saw the surgeon’s minute stitches along the faint lines of his scars. ‘And done other assorted sex things too.’
‘Made love? Is that what you’d call it?’ She could feel the heat of her own breath, and he was so close, just another fraction of an inch and his beard would be brushing against her skin. ‘I’d call it all assorted sex things.’
The Gift Page 13
