by T L Swan
This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblances to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales are purely coincidental.
Copyright © 2014 by T L Swan
ISBN: 978 0646 921 839
All rights reserved.
To my husband
I would marry you again in an instant.
Thank you for being you, I love you.
Table of Contents
Acknowledgements
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Acknowledgements
I would sincerely like to thank my dear friends who have read Stanton Adore and offered endless encouragement, I would not have had the confidence to do this without you. If I have given this book to you to read, I dearly value your friendship and know that you know… Deep down I am crazy.
My very trusted first round of readers. Jo, Emma, Vicki and Andrew. You read my chapters as I wrote them, I will forever be in your debt… Thankyou.
A special mention to Andy who has never read a romance novel before, let alone one of an erotic nature. I cringed every time I clicked the send button to you. You surprised me every time with positivity and grace.
My second round of readers who read the book when it was finished. Brooke, Selena, Jolene, Rachel, Renee, Anne, Carly, Gia, Nicole, Mel, Bridget, and Bee.
My wonderful three children and husband who have watched me type for hours every chance I got and who still loved me anyway. They all told me continually that they love my book, when they had never read a single page.
To my Mum and Dad, I am who I am because of you. I only hope I can be half the parent that you have both been to me, my sisters and brother as we grew up. I love you both dearly. Thankyou.
A special mention to my beautiful Mum who has read the book nearly as many times as I have. Your support and love of the story has made it all worthwhile.
Thankyou and I love you. Xxx
Adore
Have you ever had a moment? A specific moment in time.
When you know the next decision you make is going
To change the course of your life.
And if so, do you go forward or walk away,
Knowing that heart break is imminent
This is what I’m trying to decipher
This is my story
I’ll let you be the judge
Memories… strange things that they are. Every human brain has millions upon millions of these, however it chooses only certain ones to recall in your conscience. To put into your psyche. How does it decipher which ones to wipe and which ones to forget, and which ones to replay again and again? And does the human brain have the ability to exaggerate memories? Make the highs higher, the lows lower, passion more tender, the orgasms stronger.
Think about it. Which ten memories are poignant to you? Good or bad, they are usually connected to life–changing events. Moments in time that stand still and, in course, change the direction you are headed within your life.
My name is Natasha Marx. As a Clinical Psychologist I spend my days dissecting people’s minds, dealing with their memories. Mostly trying to erase them or at least repress them. Help them move on from the shadows of their souls. I blow out a breath and I shake my head, staring into space as once again the movie screen that is my brain replays the motion picture. Dredging my heart out with it on its way. Captivating an audience of one to a tender erotic time of my life.
A time when choices were made easily and unguardedly. A time when the side effects of my actions held no consequence for anyone concerned.
A time of innocence and betrayal.
Chapter 1
His breathing is laboured, like he’s gasping for air. My heart races out of control as anticipation of his next move thrills, excites and petrifies me all at the same time. I sigh gently, and my eyes close as I roll my head to the side to allow him greater access to my neck.
“So beautiful,” he whispers. My god, if someone had told me two weeks ago that I would be here, doing this with him in the middle of the night, in a tent with both sets of our parents only thirty metres away, I would think they’d need their head read. I can’t believe it myself. What the hell am I doing? I am way out of my depth.
He smiles into my neck, “Precious girl can you feel me? Feel how ready you are for me?” He gently and slowly adds another finger into my sex and tenderly takes my erect nipple into his mouth between his teeth and draws his head back. The wet sound of my arousal hangs thick in the air. I take a deep breath as my legs instinctively open wider. My knees bent high, my back arches and my hips gently rotate. My body takes over as I start to ride his strong thick fingers. I bear down, needing more. My wet centre is blessed with yet another burst of creamy arousal. His fingers ease in and out stretching me open, preparing me as he gently runs his open lips back down my neck. His breath is shaking as he tries to control the raging hormones that threaten his undoing. He leans up onto his elbow and looks down at me. “I need this…please… let me make love to you.” He runs the tips of his four fingers over my swollen flesh in a circular motion grazing my clitoris. My body jerks in response. His forehead rests against mine and his eyes bore into me, then my breath catches as my eyes close. “God I want you Tash… please…, I’ve never wanted anything so much.” He grazes my neck again with his teeth. My senses are under assault, my brain ceasing to operate.
Mechanical meltdown. “Josh, you feel so good,” I whisper. I grab his face with both hands and slide my tongue into his mouth. He flicks his fingers against my wet clitoris and my breath catches. My body convulses and I moan in a husky voice that is unrecognisable to my ears.
“I can make it feel better, precious…let me.” I place my hand on his forearm to feel the muscles flex as he rides me with his hands, strong, able pleasure–giving hands. His palm circles on my outer lips as his fingers delve deep to massage the front wall of my vagina, a place only he knows where to find. My eyes roll back in my head and I bring my feet up and place them flat on the ground to bring his fingers deeper. I’m panting, the orgasm so close I can taste it.
“No,” he whispers and removes his fingers.
“Josh, no,” I whisper. “Don’t stop, baby, please I need this.”
“No Natasha,” he whispers. He only uses my full name when he’s accentuating his point, forcing his will on me. He tenderly kisses me again, his tongue melting my resistance. “We’ve been doing this every night for a week. I’m giving you multiple orgasms.” He gently bites my neck as I smile.
“Hmmm,” I whisper. “Is there a problem with that?”
“No problem, it’s just…tonight… I need, I need,” his breath catches, “something…something more.” His breath quivers as his fingertips find that spot on my clitoris again, circling with precision. I moan involuntarily and my neck arches, throwing my head back into the pillow. “How does the word penetration sound?”
I giggle into his neck. “Did you really just say that?” He smiles. I know he’s teasing me. “Penetration really.”
“Ok, would you rather I say I’m going to fuck you into next week. Fuck you so hard you won’t be able to walk for a week? Push into that beautiful tight little pussy of yours with my hard cock.” He growls into my neck as he hears the crude words he’s just spoken. They turn me on beyond words and ignite my already boiling blood. That’s it, the last of my control dissipates. I know I will do anything he wants.
He removes his hand again and dips his tongue into my mouth, kissing me tenderly, loving me. “Presh,” he pleads. Both of our breathing is laboured. I close my eyes and make the decision I know is wrong. It’s one that my physical being
won’t let me refuse, one that is out of my hands. I crossed that line in the sand over a week ago. Moments pass… more passionate kissing. Every fibre of my body is screaming at me, demanding. I desperately want this beautiful man, needing this connection as much as he. I mentally kick myself as I hear the words slip from my lips.
“Make love to me Josh… I need you too.” He kisses me possessively as he growls acceptance.
“Are you sure?” he asks.
I smile into his kiss. “I’m yours Josh, take me.”
He bites my neck and digs his hands into my behind. “Fuck, you’re beautiful,” he whispers. Goose bumps scatter over my body. “I will make it good for you baby, you know that don’t you?” I nod nervously. His hand slides down my body. Back between my legs, he skims my pubic hair with the backs of his fingers. Gently he bites my shoulder as he eases a finger inside me. I groan with the overwhelming need and hunger. His other hand rises to my breast as he gently squeezes my nipple. I’m under assault. Losing my mind. My breathing is now in pants as he adds another finger in and out in a circular movement, stretching me, teasing me. My body oozes another rush of cream. “That’s it, precious girl, can you feel how wet you are for me?” He gently adds another finger.
“Oww Josh,” I tense.
“Sh, sh, baby. Relax.” He kisses me deeply as he uses three fingers to gently probe and stretch my tight opening. It gives me a pleasurable burn. “Oh god, you’re so ready for my cock.” His crude words push me over the edge. “Do you have any idea how much I fucking adore you?” he whispers into my ear, and I bring my hand down to feel him. His hard shaft is oozing pre – ejaculate. I give him a long stroke and then swipe my thumb over the slippery engorged head. Feeling every vein on his thick length that I now know from memory. “Don’t baby,” he pulls away. “I don’t want to come,” he whispers. I sit up on my knees to take him in my mouth. The temptation too great, I need to taste him. “Stop…now.” He pulls me off him and pushes me down. He moves his weight onto his elbows as he positions himself over me. Slowly sliding the side of his shaft backwards and forwards through my swollen wet lips. The intimate kissing continues. “We were meant for each other, you know that don’t you?” I nod and smile. I do know this, without a doubt in my mind. He nudges the opening of my sex with his large length. His breath quivers and I know he’s trying to hold himself back so he doesn’t hurt me. He goes in a little way. Ahh, I tense. “Its ok… it’s ok,” he whispers. He kisses me again and I relax. “That’s it baby, you’re doing great.” His voice is strained but just the sound of it calms me. Shit this hurts! He pushes again and I tense, oh fuck this really hurts. “Take me,” he whispers. “Relax baby and take my body, it’s here for you, I’m here for you.” I slowly start to relax as he pauses to allow my body to adjust to the hard intrusion while running his open mouth up and down my neck. Our mingled breathing sounds like we are running a marathon. I can hear the quiver in his breath as he inhales. God, this is just so unexpectedly intimate. I can’t control my feelings any longer. I blink quickly to try and stop it. But it’s too late, a tear escapes onto my cheek. “Baby no,” he whispers, mortified that he’s hurting me. It’s not the physical pain that I’m unable to cope with, but the emotion I feel for this man. The love I have for him. It’s overwhelming, it’s too much. He whispers again, “Take me, beautiful girl,” and kisses my ear. Wanting desperately to please him I force my legs to open further and he thrusts deep with one lunge. He’s entirely in. Oh shit, he’s big. “I’m sorry, precious,” he whispers. “Sshh, sshh, it’s ok, it’s ok, I’m in.” I hold my breath, unable to speak, shocked to my core. This really fucking hurts—what the hell! “You feel amazing,” he whispers as he stares into my glassy eyes. He stays still, deep inside me, allowing my body to adjust to his brutal length. Kissing me gently, he swipes his tongue through my lips and I feel my arousal slowly rise back up. He leans up onto his elbow to look at me and gently wipes my hair off my face. “Do you have any idea what you mean to me?” he whispers into my ear. I gradually relax. Slowly he withdraws and gently slides into me again. I breathe out, overcome with emotion and unable to hide it any longer.
“Josh,” I whisper. His eyes are closed, he’s breathing heavily.
“Yes, baby,” he answers, his lips against my cheek.
“I love you,” I whisper. His eyes fly wide open.
“Been a big week hey?” My eyes fly up nervously to Simon in my office doorway. I nod and quickly rearrange the papers on my desk. I try to rein in my now pounding heart, guilt written all over my face. Bloody hell. I need to stop thinking about this shit when I’m at work.
“It has been a big week, Simon. I’m tired. Do you still want to go for that drink?”
He frowns and shakes his head. “Don’t try to weasel out of it. We do this every Friday.”
I give him a resigned smile. “We do. Give me a minute to freshen up, will you?
He smiles. “Sure, meet you out front.”
I wander over to the large arched window overlooking the park. It’s just on dusk. Large magnolia trees surround the manicured lawn, which has four stone benches in the centre. An old man is reading the paper on one of them. It’s a beautiful haven in the middle of a city. I’m lucky to have this view from my office. I blow out a breath as I take out my ponytail and redo it. What are you doing now Joshua? Who are you with? Why do I remember him in technicolour but live my life in black and white? I drag myself up and change my clothes. I feel like going out like a hole in the head. Why do I constantly agree to do things I don’t want to do?
Saturday at Mum’s is always the same. Bridget, my younger sister, who also moonlights as my best friend, goes on and on about her dickhead boyfriend. Mum and I always sit and listen while she vents or at least we pretend to listen. We drink coffee, eat cake and read the papers, roll our eyes at each other and occasionally add our two cents’ worth. Which goes unnoticed I might add. It’s a Saturday morning ritual, an excuse to catch up.
“Oh,” Mum claps her hands in excitement. “I got my outfit for the wedding.”
“Oh yes,” I answer, blowing out a deep breath as I brush the crumbs off my shirt. My inability to get excited about anything is beyond rude.
“Don’t listen to her Mum—she’s in a shitty mood this week,” Bridget snaps. I open my eyes wide at her. Implying Shut up. “What?” she snaps.
“Don’t start,” I scowl.
“Well, what’s with you this week?”
“You are very preoccupied lately, honey. Is everything all right?” Mum asks.
“Yes,” I roll my eyes and blow out a breath.
“Is it work?” she questions, cocking her head to the side and resting her coffee cup on her chest.
“Anything juicy?” Bridget asks excitedly.
“You know I can’t answer that,” I sigh.
“God, you’re no fun. Can’t you tell me about some hot nymphomaniac sex god you’re treating, one who’s looking for a blonde travel agent? You know I’m living vicariously through you,” she smirks. Mum rolls her eyes.
“I wish I did treat sex gods,” I mutter. “I could do with a sex god or two in my life. Besides only women are called nymphomaniacs, men are called satyriasists.”
Bridget rolls her eyes and I can’t help but smile. “I don’t care what they’re called. Just find two and arrange a double date.”
“Sure—you’re on,” I smile. Feeling guilty I look at Mum, “Go and put your outfit on, Mum, let me see what it’s like.”
“Ok.” She jumps from the chair excitedly and disappears down the hall towards her bedroom. Bridget carries on reading the paper. Moments later Mum breezes back into the kitchen in a beautiful, layered plum number. She looks amazing.
“I love it.” Bridget claps her hands in excitement.
“You do look beautiful,” I nod.
“You don’t think it’s too tight?” she asks as she turns around and checks out her behind in the oven door, standing on her tiptoes.
I s
hake my head. “No, it’s perfect,” I smile at her.
“Oh, Natasha, what colour did you say the dress you are wearing is?”
“Not sure yet, I have two to choose from.”
“OMG,” Bridget holds up both of her hands as if to say stop. “Listen to this,” Bridget exclaims as she reads an expert from the gossip pages.
“It seems our shores are soon to be graced with the return of the App mogul and millionaire playboy Joshua Stanton. Our spies reveal he is returning to the shores of Australia to be the best man at his brother’s wedding and will be staying for three months to reorganise his working visa. Look out for him and his entourage, ladies, he’s quite the catch.”
Oh shit. My heart sinks.
Bridget is so excited. “Holy crap! He’s like famous now, in the gossip pages. Just how rich is he?”
“He’s a multimillionaire,” Mum answers.
“Entourage—what, so he travels with an entourage?”
“I suppose,” she nods and shrugs her shoulders. “I know he employs a lot of people.”
“Margaret said he has a PA and a bodyguard now.”
I feel sick to my stomach. No one knows about Joshua and me. It happened on a holiday when I was seventeen and he was nineteen and he was just a regular sex–charged teenager— before he went to America. Our parents would have freaked; they would still freak if they knew. This man is frigging haunting me. What is the hold he has on me? This is what I’m lost about—is it that he was my first? Or that he is forbidden to me? Even the memory of him raises my pulse. I have been putting myself through self–inflicted torture for years when I put a google alert on him. Every goddamn girl he’s ever gone out with is splashed all over the internet. Models, actors, socialites, sluts.
However the hell you put it, he has long forgotten me. My heart sinks.
“Oohh,” Bridget gasps, “has he got a girlfriend?”
Mum hunches her shoulders. “I have no idea. No one special I don’t think. His mother would have loved gloating if he had.” A cold shiver runs down my back. His mother, piece of work that she is, loves nothing better than to gloat to me how great Joshua is doing. How wealthy Joshua is. How many beautiful models Joshua dates. If I didn’t know better, I would say she is rubbing it in my face. Although I know she has no idea about what happened between us. Nobody does. Maybe that’s the problem—I’ve lived all these years without telling a soul. I need to vent. My feelings swing from lovesick to angry, to resentful to hateful, and back to broken–hearted, all within an hour. While he lives this exciting full life I’m still here, the village idiot, pining over a man that doesn’t even know I exist. I’m pathetic. Well he’s going to know I exist after this wedding because I am going to look so unbelievably hot. I’m going to rub his sorry ass in it. I narrow my eyes as I rethink my diabolical plan. Look hot, turn him on, lead him on and then reject him. He’s going to be begging for mercy by the time I’m finished with him, if I have to ram it down his puny throat. I’ve been planning this for six months. Operation payback is going to be a bitch. I smile. I think the only relief I’m going to get is satisfaction that I have the last word. I had no say in our demise, although it has haunted me for years. Perhaps that was the problem. I lied to him about our breakup. Told him what he needed to hear and not the truth. I’ve been overanalysing this for years. In my clinical opinion I am suffering guilt–associated trauma. I need to eventually tell him the truth somewhere down the track so I can just move the hell on, and he can release me from this invisible Spiderman hold he has on me. He is the last person I think of every night. I wonder who he’s with now and whether he ever thinks of me and misses me like I miss him. I’m sad, sad to my bones, a deep regretful sadness that I can’t shake. No matter how hard I try. My seemingly normal existence and happiness is a stage–show. Not all the time. I am happy. I just feel an emptiness like something’s missing—a hole in my life—maybe perhaps similar to someone who grieves a person who has died, a mother who has lost a child. Even when I am happy there is an emptiness that somehow won’t go away. And the memories. God, the memories. They haunt me. My mind wanders constantly, imagining us together in bed, snuggled up, making love for hours and hours. His tenderness, his adoration of me and my body. He did love me when we were together I know this for certain, it was just so long ago. So why in the hell am I still in love with him after all this time? Am I even in love with him? I don’t even know him. I know my emotions are coming to a head because he’s due to touch down in Sydney anytime and I will, no doubt, see him. I’m excited and terrified at the same time.
