Joe lay back on the bed and pulled me down next to him, wrapping his arm around my shoulders so I could rest my head on his chest. I inhaled deeply. The scent of him was intoxicating and I couldn’t imagine a day when I might not be able to breathe him in. I needed him like a junkie needed drugs. Joe was my fix, he had been since the day I read his name on that stupid piece of paper and fell in love with my ultimate book boyfriend.
I listened to the thud thud of his heart beating against my cheek, trailed my fingers over his stomach in small soft circles and tried to reconcile the fact that whatever Joe had started out as, whatever fucked up magic had transformed him from fiction to fact, he was now a living, breathing human being. I had no true claim on him. I had no right to him, not even when he was merely an idea, a fantasy. All I could do was hope that he loved me, truly loved me and would stay. The dark seed of doubt crept in again to taunt me, how do you know he really loves you Naomi? Aren’t his feelings forced by your own hand? You created this version of Joe, you made him love you. He had no choice.
I swallowed painfully, the fear rising in my throat knowing that the only way to test this theory was to tell him the truth, to take him to Laney and prove to him that he wasn’t real but the truth would crush him. Imagine finding out that everything you thought you knew about yourself and your life was just some crazy quirk of unknown magical circumstance. That by all intents and purposes, you should not exist and nothing about you was real, your life was a lie. Jesus, it was like a real-life version of The Truman Show…except Truman got out.
Without realising it, the tiny circles I’d been tracing on Joe’s abdomen had somehow moved lower and I found my fingers gently rubbing near the waistband on his pyjama bottoms. I noticed Joe’s breathing had become shallower and his chest rose and fell quickly with each breath. The large bulge in his pants twitched as if trying to gain my attention and I immediately felt a thrill of excitement course through me. This was not a contrived reaction, at least I hoped not. Surely sexual attraction was a primal, instinctual reaction to being attracted to someone? He wouldn’t get a raging hard on just because I wrote him like that. Joe had reigned in his usual behaviour in the bedroom these last few weeks and had been sweet and gentle with me that had been his own choice, not mine. Didn’t that prove then that he was under his own influence to some degree?
My fingers glided downwards and over his erection, causing it to jerk upwards again. Joe’s hand squeezed my shoulder as he nuzzled my hair muttering in Italian. His voice, soft and sultry could not be mistaken for anything other than seductive. I knew what he wanted. I pressed my hand more firmly on to the twitching bulge and began rubbing him slowly with my palm. Low moans came from deep in his throat and he cupped my chin with his free hand, lifting my face towards him.
“Baciami.” Joe murmured, his brown eyes gleamed at me from under his long, lush lashes. I at least knew what that meant - Kiss me. Without hesitation, I slid up his body and gently teased his open lips with my tongue before crashing my mouth down on his in a bruising kiss. I needed him to know that I’d had enough of the delicate treatment. I wanted the rough and ready back. I bit down on his bottom lip and sucked it causing Joe’s breath to hitch sharply. His free hand grabbed a fistful of my hair and tugged, exposing my neck. I caught the flash of heat in his look before his mouth plundered the delicate skin of my neck. Yes! There he is. I wanted nothing more than for Joe to fling me over and ravage my body but I broke away from the kiss.
“Stay there.” I instructed him. He gave me a quizzical smile but shrugged in agreement.
“What are you up to?”
“Shut up and you’ll find out.”
“Hmm, you know I like it when you’re bossy amore mio.” I went to the chest of drawers and pulled out a pair of black stockings, turning to Joe I ran them suggestively through my hands. I had intended to wear these along with the little lacy black Basque to entice Joe back to his old, dominant bedroom behaviour but now I had another plan. “Are you dressing up for me bella?” The corner of his mouth turned up with the hint of a devilish grin.
“No, you are.” I replied, pursing my lips, my brows raised. A low chuckle erupted from his mouth.
“Well that’s something I haven’t done before.”
“You’re not wearing them silly!” Grasping his meaning, I couldn’t help but giggle. “Put your hands up.” Joe did as I asked, amused curiosity fuelled his compliancy. I wrapped the stockings around his wrists and tied them tightly, pushing his arms above his head to rest on the bed. His top half lay on the bed and his legs dangled over the side with his bare feet on the floor.
“Don’t move.” I told him. I began a seductive strip tease for him, slowly peeling off my clothes one item at a time. A small part of me felt a little self-conscious and I almost giggled a few times, I had never played this role before, letting Joe take charge was how I liked it. But this was about him and I wanted to drive him to the edge my way. Seeing Joe’s expression change from amusement to ardent desire encouraged me. I suddenly felt empowered and explicitly female. Standing there naked under his gaze I was fully aware of my body and the effect it had on Joe. His cock was straining in his pants, a fleeting image of the creature bursting from John Hurt’s stomach in the film Alien flashed in my head and I almost guffawed. I could imagine Joe’s cock ripping through the material of his pants at any moment, screaming to be fucked.
“Do I get to play yet or are you just going to stand there staring at my crotch?”
“You don’t get to do anything. You just have to stay still and shut up. If you move the game ends. Got it?” I moved slowly and deliberately towards him, leaning over him I tugged down his pants allowing his dick to spring free. It jerked and bobbed alluringly, demanding attention. I pushed Joe’s legs apart with my foot and settled myself on my knees between his open thighs. Joe lifted his head to look at me.
“I said don’t move.” I shot him a look of what I hoped was dominance and he lay his head back down but not before I noticed the wanton look that he shot back. Satisfied that he would behave I began his slow torture, starting at his ankles I ran my hands up the inside of his leg changing to butterfly kisses and teasing nips as I neared his groin. His body tensed as my tongue lightly grazed his balls. I continued my tease by positioning my mouth a hairs width away from his dick and allowing the heat from my breath to bathe it in warmth. His dick jerked again banging against my lips and I responded with a swift lick from the base of his shaft to the throbbing tip. Joe’s hips bucked and he grumbled low in his chest. I retreated a little- returning my attentions to the area of skin in his groin, nipping at the little hollow where his thigh ended.
“Merda, donna!” Joe hissed through clenched teeth. His noises only spurred me on to more daring things. Standing up, I climbed onto the bed, turned around and straddled him so his face was inches from my exposed pussy. I felt him shift beneath me and I knew he wanted to taste me.
“You move and it ends.” I was enjoying this, being the more dominant partner wasn’t particularly my thing, I loved nothing more than a man that took charge but the feeling of power I had over Joe and my own femininity was intoxicating. Bringing my man pleasure on my terms turned me on no end. I could see why Joe liked being the dominant one, seeing your lover in a high state of sexual yearning, mercilessly at your hands was the ultimate high.
Bending forward so I was on all fours, my bottom aligned with his face, my head faced his crotch, I hooked my feet over his outstretched arms pinning them to the bed above his head. I moved slowly back and forth above him, trailing my long brown hair over his body and giving him a full view of my rear. I could feel his hot, rapid breaths on my backside and my body began to respond, eager for his touch. I refrained from pushing myself onto his waiting mouth, even though I ached for it. This was all about him and I was going to make damn sure he enjoyed every second.
I took hold of him in my hand and lowered my mouth, teasing his tip with my tongue. I loved the feel of him and he tasted i
ncredible. My lips followed my tongue as I slipped them down over his length until my mouth was full and then slowly pulled away again. I continued this slow tease for a few strokes, revelling in the gasps and moans that he uttered. I switched to pleasuring him with my hand and let my tongue trail further down to stimulate his groin. My tongue reached places I knew had never been touched by anyone but me and that knowledge pleased me immensely. A rush of power surged through my body when Joe began grinding his hips against my mouth, pumping my hand harder and faster until I knew he was on the verge of a climax. I pulled away before he finished and I heard his tortured cry.
“Naomi, please. Don’t stop.”
“Patience baby, patience.”
“Christ, woman!!”
“Shh! You love it. Now be quiet” I straightened, kneeling above his face again. No more than a few centimetres separated my flesh from his lips. I could feel every tantalising hot breath on me and I knew he must feel the heat of me on his mouth. I ground my hips in tiny circular motions above him, showing myself off to him. A plethora of Italian expletives sprang from him, none of which I understood but hearing him speak his native tongue always turned me on. I could feel the desire flow from my centre, readying me for sex. I knew Joe could sense it, the cheeky swine had the gall to stick out his tongue to take a sneaky taste. Damn his mouth felt good.
“Ah ah ah! Bad boy. No touching.”
“Oh Jesus bella, you are killing me!” He growled as I rose up on my knees, out of his reach. “Please Naomi, I need to touch you.”
“Not yet. Now lay still.” I went back on all fours and unceremoniously took him in my mouth in one swift movement. Joe’s hips thrust upwards and he called out in ecstasy. I worked him with my mouth, flicking his tip with my tongue on each upstroke. The salty tang of pre-cum coated my tongue which triggered an immediate heated response between my own legs.
“Fuuuck!” He cried. “Naomi, I’m going to come.”
“Mmm.” I moaned against him, not ceasing my attentions. I felt him tense and his flesh pulsate. The cries of his climax barrelled through his gritted teeth and I relished every sound he made.
When he finally calmed, I withdrew from him, wiping my mouth. Turing to face an exhausted Joe, I untied his hands and flopped down beside him, looping my leg over his. We lay there, no sound other than his panting for a few minutes until Joe suddenly flipped me over on to my back and pinned me beneath him. I felt him begin to harden again and with a wicked glint in his eyes he said.
“My turn.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Revelations
Thankfully the storm had blown itself out and we awoke to clear skies and sunshine. Joe had woken early, getting up and making tea and toast to bring for us to eat in bed. As soon as we’d finished eating he’d showered and prepared himself for the day. I got the feeling he was eager to find Laney and get it all over and done with. I hadn’t worked out how I would be able to talk to Laney without Joe overhearing the conversation. Yesterday I’d wanted him to be there so he could see first-hand that I’d been telling the truth, now I knew I couldn’t have him anywhere near Laney Marsh. However, I couldn’t exactly tell Joe I’d changed my mind either. If I tried that he’d wonder why I’d had the sudden change of heart. After the lengths I’d gone to drag his arse here he’d never believe it. I was going to have to wing it.
It was short walk along the shore path to Gardenstown and we’d called in to see Moira and her husband Cambell on the way. Cambell told us he’d heard of a Marsh family in the area but not an address. He’d told us to ask any of the local bakers or shop owners in Gardenstown as they’d be the most likely to know Laney. I’d had to explain all of this to Joe as we walked because as much as he’d struggled to understand Moira, her husband’s accent was twice as thick.
Rows of sturdy little houses greeted us as we entered the small town, nestled neatly between the wildness of the bay and sprawling cliffs, it presented its own rugged beauty to the world. Making our way slowly through the streets, it felt like Joe and I had been transported into a different time. The old town offered a much simpler life than the one I was used to in the city, I could see the appeal. From what I could remember from my research into the area, these small villages and towns were built as a direct result of the highland clearances. In the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, aristocratic landowners forced the eviction of farming tenants from their land and enclosed all common land to raise sheep. Thousands of Gaelic families were forced into migration to the Scottish west coast, Australia and America. The stone cottages in the west coast villages stood in defiance of the tyrannical aristocrats, small time tenant farmers became fishermen and learned to survive that way, keeping the Gaelic culture alive. I knew I was romanticising it, in reality the clearances had been brutal and lasted over hundred years. Many people had been killed defending their ancestral homes. But something about their defiant struggle called to me, it was easy to feel a part of it when you were here, walking the streets of Gardenstown. I had Scottish ancestry, my family name of Douglas was a clan name. We had our own tartan. I felt strangely at home in these streets, in amongst my ancestors. I imagined I could hear their whispers and feel their watchful gaze from beneath the veil.
“That’s a very wistful look you have there.” Joe said.
“Isn’t it beautiful here? I was just thinking about my heritage. I have Scottish ancestry you know.”
“It is beautiful.” Joe agreed. “I didn’t know you had some Scottish in you, maybe that’s where your fiery temper comes from huh?” He nudged my arm with his elbow.
“Hey!” I replied, playfully punching his shoulder. “I’m not fiery, I’m passionate.”
“Oh no bella, the passion comes from the Italian inside you.”
“I don’t have any Italian in me.” I said quizzically.
“Would you like some?” He grinned devilishly and I rolled my eyes.
“Ohhhh smooth, very smooth.”
“I can do smooth…but I prefer rough and so do you la mia bella donna.” His voice low and smouldering, sent shivers down my back and straight between my legs. Joe had such a crazy effect on me. I’d never reacted to any man the way I did to him, just the thought of sex with him had me panting like a bitch in heat.
“Will you stop it! Now is hardly the time you pervert.” I laughed.
“But you like my perverse side. Remember the time with the butter and…”
“Shh! Someone might hear you.” I hissed, trying to smother a laugh. “Come on now be serious please, we’re on a mission remember?” We approached a greengrocer’s shop and I pulled Joe to a stop. “Let’s ask in here, see if they know Laney.” Joe was distracted with the vegetable cart outside the shop. The chef side of him couldn’t resist perusing fresh produce. “Joe?”
“Hmm?” He looked up at me, a plump plum in his hand.
“Never mind, I’m going inside a moment.”
“OK, you mind if I look at these? I can pick something up for dinner tonight.”
“That’s fine, you play with your plums, and I won’t be long.” Joe raised an eyebrow at my innuendo and I blew him a kiss. I approached the counter and rang the little bell beside the till. A few seconds later a man who looked in his late sixties, came through from the back of the shop. His face was slightly weather-worn and rosy cheeked. Curly grey hair sprouted out the sides of a red woolly beanie hat. He reminded me of Smee from Peter Pan, all he was missing was the iconic blue and white striped shirt and the little round specs. The notion made me smile and the old man took it as a greeting. Smiling back at me he asked me,
“What can I do for you lassy?”
“Hi. Um, I’m actually looking for someone, a lady I work with. I have an address for Crovie but it seems she doesn’t live there. I was wondering if you might know of her or her family? Her name is Laney Marsh.” The old man’s hand went to his chin and he stroked it, his beady blue eyes scrutinised me.
“Who’s asking?”
“Oh, s
orry. My name is Naomi Doug… Ferrantino. Naomi Ferrantino.” I smiled and held out my hand. He didn't take it but continued to stare at me. The situation felt somewhat awkward during the few moments of silence that followed. I lowered my hand and gave a little cough, clearing my throat. “It’s a matter of some urgency you see, it’s about her work.” The old man still didn’t respond so I continued. “I need to get in contact with her as soon as possible. It really is important.” Not wanting to elaborate any further I stopped and looked at him expectantly, hoping for an answer.
“A’ knows the Marsh family aye. No Laney though. Maybe you got the wrong address.”
“Oh.” I replied, a little disappointed. “I suppose it’s possible she may go by another first name, she’s a writer you see.”
“You one o’ them stalkers are ye?”
“Oh God no. Nothing like that.” Technically you are. The little voice in my head piped up. I ignored it. “I’ve been erm…helping her with her book but there’s a problem and I need to see her. I don’t have much in the way of contact details.”
“Funny. It stands to reason if yous are working together you’d have contact details eh?” The man narrowed his eyes suspiciously. Jesus! Talk about tight lipped community. This was like pulling teeth! I plastered on my sweetest smile.
“Ms Marsh is very private. She only used to communicate via email. I’ve been trying to get hold of her for a while but she’s not answering her emails. I’m starting to get worried about her.” I thought I’d try the concerned associate approach instead. It seemed to make the old man think anyway. I was just about to say something more when Joe burst through the door with his arms stuffed full of fresh fruit and vegetables, an excited expression on his face and a reel of Italian spouting from his mouth. The old man’s attention was diverted from me and he beamed at Joe.
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