"Yes, yes, yes … Oh God, Stefano." Her muscles contracted around his dick, forcing his own release, one so forceful that the breath left his lungs and he dug his fingers into her hips, as he drove her into her with enough force to shake the bed.
****
When the earth stopped spinning and her breathing returned to some form of normal rhythm, Mareijke finally released her hold on the headboard. Her arms protested the movement, her muscles screaming at her, and she winced. Instantly Stefano rolled off her, and she moaned at the loss of him deep inside her sensitive flesh.
His worried face came into her vision, and his strong, warm hands massaged the ache away.
"Forgive me, cara, you will be sore. I got a little carried away."
She giggled at the chagrined expression on his face and cupped his beard-roughened cheek.
"No, we got carried away. That was … wow."
His brilliant smile of approval did strange things to her insides.
"I love you so much, Stefano. I was so worried you didn't love me anymore."
His expression grew serious, and he sat up and pulled away from her. The move left her bereft, and she, too, sat up and shrugged out of the trousers that had been left to pool around her ankles. Her ass, too, protested at that movement, and she smiled at the reminder of his passion. Already bruises were forming on her hips, and her heart skipped a beat at the sight. It had been way too long since she had been able to look at his leftover marks in the mirror. She loved them almost as much as she loved him—loved it when he treated her as though she was truly his to do with as he pleased.
"I'm sorry. I never meant for you to feel like that." Stefano ran a hand through his hair and then gestured to the stockings he was still wearing. "This … I didn't think you would get … this."
He looked as though he was ready to bolt. The uncertainty in his face and the tight set of his shoulders, combined with the controlled breaths he took tore at her heart, and she wrapped her arms around his waist. Going on her knees behind him she pressed herself against his back and rested her chin on his shoulder.
"Well, I am mighty pissed that your legs look so much better in them than mine do, and if you think for one minute that I will go out with you dressed like that, then you've got another think coming, but here, just between the two of us, that's hot as hell."
A shudder went through his long frame, and he interlinked his fingers with hers.
"You really don't mind? I won't need this all the time. And I can't explain why I do. It just feels so good, you know." Again the doubt behind those words called to her, and she hugged him tighter.
"Why would I mind? And you don't have to explain it to me. I like the feel of them, too. Where is it written that just because you're a man you can't indulge yourself in the feel of women's lingerie? I've nicked your boxers often enough, haven't I?"
He laughed at that, and she smiled.
"Well, it's true. No one bats an eyelid at that, so why should it be different for a man? I'm being serious, Stefano. You should have told me before. The fact that you didn't, bothers me far more than the fact that you like to wear women's underwear."
His heartfelt curse trembled through her, and she shrieked when he pulled her around and onto his lap. She was no match for his superior strength, and she held her breath when he cupped her chin and studied her. His cock was once again a hard ridge under her ass, and his eyes darkened when she wriggled her butt on purpose.
"Watch it, minx, or I'll get out the new flogger I picked up on my travels."
His grin could only be described as sinful, and she stuck her tongue out at him. He rolled his eyes in annoyance, but his full lips twitched in amusement.
"You are asking for trouble, cara."
"Oh, I certainly hope so." She giggled at his growl of frustration, and the grip on her chin grew painful.
"Never, ever doubt that I love you with all my heart and soul. I know we should have talked about this, but I didn't have the words. I needed to figure this out by myself first. It wasn't until my trip to Monaco that I did. One of the models was a transvestite. I have never met a more beautiful man in my life. We talked, and I guess we bonded over one too many drinks. I was missing you like crazy, and I told him my secret. I figured if anyone could understand it would be him."
Stefano paused and ran his thumb over her lips. She licked it, jerking him back to the here and now, and he smiled at her.
"He showed me where to buy underwear that would fit, and took me to a salon to get waxed. Now that was an experience I'm not sure I want to repeat. How you women do this all the time is beyond me."
He grinned ruefully, and Mareijke just smiled at him. She didn't want to interrupt his narrative now that he was opening up.
"Once I had done that, I couldn't let you see me naked. I wasn't prepared to explain it to you. I wasn't sure you'd understand. I'm still not sure I understand it myself, this need I have, but it's always been there, you know."
She nodded. She might not get the why of his particular need, but she knew all too well how it felt to have needs that went against the norms of society. Meeting Stefano had allowed her to be her true self, to let go, to admit to him at least that she needed to feel pain with her pleasure. It had released a part of herself she had kept hidden all of her life.
"I'm a fool, I know. I should have known that you of all people would understand that. I'm sorry, cara, I messed up. I promised you we would always be truthful to each other, and I haven't been. In my defense I was just so frightened of losing you. Of losing what we have. I couldn't live without you."
He dropped his forehead to hers, and they stayed liked that, content in each other's presence.
"It's just as well you don't have to live without me, then, isn't it?" she finally said, and he smiled.
"No more secrets, cara."
"No, just you and me forever."
He kissed her then, and Mareijke knew that all was as it should be.
"I'll have to thank that dry cleaner for finding those knickers," she said at last, when Stefano let her come up for air.
"Later," he said. "Much later."
The End
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Behind the Mask
Copyright © 2013
Raven McAllan
To her intense joy, the sunrise was everything Daisy had hoped it would be. The golden orb showed more and more of its majesty as she watched and sketched the way it reflected on the gentle waves. She could only thank her parents for ignoring her protests and telling her she deserved the break. She had worked so very hard in the build-up to her successful exhibition, and the holiday was her parents’ way of saying well done. The fact she was eager to revisit the Caribbean in general and Antigua in particular had been an added incentive to say yes and thank you.
Now, on this first perfect morning, she was glad she'd been so easily persuaded, and that she'd refused a companion. This was her time. Time to do what she wanted and when. Which at that moment was sit on her balcony, sketch, and drink in the atmosphere. She was so absorbed in what she was doing that the first knowledge of an intruder was when a set of footsteps showed on the damp sand in front of her.
Daisy glanced along the beach in time to see a tall dark man with what looked to be a more than a fit body disappear from view. If she hadn't had her sketchbook and charcoal on her lap she'd have stood up for a better view. As it was, the sight of tight buns encased in electric blue running shorts was enough to make her tingle and wish her vibrator was to hand. As it wasn't, she sighed and went back to her sketch. She was determined she'd return to the UK with the basis of her next exhibition, and the sunrise, trite as it might seem, was an inspiration to her. Now though, she'd lost the feel for it. Maybe, she tried to tell herself, it was because the sun was now high in the sky and not due to the sight of a blood-heating hot bod.
Woman, you ne
ed to get laid. It's been way too long. She laughed at her thoughts. Even if her friends had told her to have a holiday romance, no name no shame, Daisy knew that wasn't for her. She might read hot books, get wet reading them, and resort to self-help to scratch the itch, but she could no more pick up a strange guy than she could bungee jump from the Finnieston Crane. As she was scared of heights, that was never going to happen. She gathered up her art things and went to get ready for breakfast.
****
After a long lazy day, sat on the sand in front of her villa, with her e-reader and what seemed like a vat of sun cream, Daisy was more than ready for her evening meal. She hadn't bothered with lunch. The fresh fruit and amazing omelet she'd eaten at breakfast had filled her up, and her villa was supplied with every drink known to man, a bowlful of fruit and nuts, and a basket of biscuits and crackers. She showered the sand and salt off her body and sipped a gin and tonic as she waited for the lowering sun to dry her hair. Usually the thought of eating alone didn't faze her, but for some reason, tonight she wished she had a companion.
She'd kept a wary eye on the beach but had not seen anyone remotely resembling the guy she'd glimpsed earlier. With a self-deprecating grin, Daisy finished her drink, grabbed her tiny shoulder bag, checked she had her key card and phone, and left her villa to walk the few yards to the restaurant. It was a soft gentle night, and the darkness was welcoming, not threatening as it so often was at home. She strolled past a couple of other villas, their lights a welcoming glow, and headed for the well-lit restaurant. On cue her tummy rumbled, and she put her hand over it and giggled. She didn't want to look—or sound—too eager.
It was just as well, because as she rounded the corner to the open side of the room, she saw just how busy it was, and her heart sank. It was a no reservation place, and she'd obviously chosen the busiest time. The maître d' was apologetic, but there would be a wait for a single table. Daisy nodded and sat at the bar as he suggested, opened her e-reader, and accepted the glass of fizz given to her.
"We could share a table." The deep velvet voice came from behind her, and Daisy jumped. A long tanned arm stretched around her and caught her glass before she tipped it over completely. "There now. If I get Riccardo to vouch for me, will you consider sharing? I'll get brownie points for freeing up two single tables and the pleasure of your company. I'm not sure if there's anything in it for you, though."
Daisy laughed as she swung her chair round. She didn't need to see his face to know it was the man from the beach. Hell, she hadn't even seen his face then, but no way could she say, “oh please turn around and let me check if your butt is the one I saw disappearing this morning”.
"Alex Campion." He held his hand out. Daisy took it and had a hard time not to gasp at the electricity that sparked from him to her. He, however, had no compunction. "Wow, talk about a spark of interest." He smiled. "So how do you do, Miss?"
"Oh, er Daisy Rose, and yes, Rose is my last name. The bane of my life."
He helped her from her chair and led her to a table where the smiling maître d' held her chair.
"Mr. Campion is okay, Miss Rose. He's a long time visitor, both, like now, on his lonesome, and with his parents before. I'd not let you be sitting with just anyone, you know. We take care of our guests."
Daisy nodded her thanks, sat down, and took a long look at the man seated opposite. No one could say he had classic good looks, but every inch of him screamed sex on legs to her.
"So." He pointed to the wine list. "That one, please. Will you trust my judgment?" He paused and looked at Daisy. The skin around his dark, almost black, eyes crinkled, and his face lit up.
Oh God, clit clenching moment, argh. She did her best to smile back and adjust her thong out of the crack of her bum, using the tablecloth for cover. Damn I knew I should have stuck to knickers.
"Oh, the wine in this instance. Don't forget we're all-inclusive."
"Eh? Oh yes sorry." Daisy blushed. Her mind had wondered what exactly he meant. "Sorry, I was miles away."
He laughed. "No need to be sorry as long as, ah shit, I'm not even saying it, it sounds so fucking false. Just well no need."
She wondered what he had intended to say. He turned to speak to the wine waiter, who was showing him a bottle of wine. And if that’s all-inclusive I have a bridge to sell you. She moaned under her breath. His profile was perfect.
"Will you sit for me so I can sketch you?" she said and put her hand over her mouth. When would she learn not to blurt out everything without thinking it through?
He looked at her and grinned. "Hmm." He touched her cheek with one long elegant finger "Will you marry me? Then I'll sit for you."
****
Daisy sat at the table and laughed at the silly presents her friends had bought her. To say they'd been surprised at her holiday wedding was the understatement of the year. They weren't the only ones. She’d been taken aback at how swiftly her feelings had turned to love, and she suspected her new husband felt the same. Nevertheless they'd done the deed. This belated hen night had been Ruthie's idea, and her other friends had eagerly agreed.
So here she was in a pub in Soho, surrounded by girls in silly hats and a sea of wrapping paper. Her glass had been filled so many times she'd lost count, and her tummy rumbled. It reminded her of Antigua, her rapid and exciting courtship, and the romantic shore-side wedding. Even now, six weeks on, she had to pinch herself. She looked at the platinum band on her finger.
Ruthie laughed. "Come on, Mrs. Campion, let’s get moving. We have a treat for you." The rest of the girls tidied the table and bagged up party poppers, hats, glasses, and an assortment of sex toys as Ruthie hauled Daisy to her feet.
"Squid?" Daisy said hopefully. "Mussels. Fish and chips in paper? Hell anything will do. I'm starving." Her tummy rumbled again. Ruthie passed her a bag of crisps. "Here you'll have to make do with these 'til we get there."
"Where?"
Ruthie sniggered. "Not telling. Hey, ladies, are we ready to rock?"
A chorus of "Yay" and "Woo hoo, let’s go for it," greeted the answer, and the five women trooped out and into the street.
Daisy stopped dead on the pavement. "Oh for fuck’s sake what the hell?" She leaned against the wall and stared at the bright pink limo parked at the curb with a smiling chauffeur complete with leather trousers, jacket, and a peaked cap holding the door open. All he needs now is a whip and handcuff. Talk about stereotype central.
"Bridal shower necessity," Ruthie said. "Get in and enjoy yourself. Milly chose it."
"Okay." Resigned, Daisy decided she might as well go with the flow. She got in and hoped to hell no one she knew from the gallery her exhibition was in saw her. She might have a reputation for being ditsy with her friends, but in her professional life she was anything but.
Ruthie and the others followed her, and the vehicle set off. Milly opened yet another bottle of fizz and handed glasses around.
"Congratulations, and when do we see your husband?" She made a vague rude gesture with one hand.
"Soon." Daisy took her glass. "Once we get our breath back. Hell, we got home and he was straight back to the stock-brokering stuff, and I'm trying to sort my narrow boat out. I never knew I had so much junk."
"Are you selling up? I bag first dibs," Ruthie said eagerly.
Daisy shook her head. "Oh, sorry, no. It's just going to be my studio. I'll sell the flat in Glasgow though. Alex and I will be living in his penthouse." She blushed. It sounded so pretentious. "Well, until we find a house somewhere." Ruthie nodded, and didn't skit her like some of the others might.
"Right, now the blindfold. Fresh and unused from my last long haul flight." Ruthie produced an eye mask and gestured to Daisy.
"What? Oh no. In your dreams. I do not do unsighted well."
"Blindfold double dare," Milly said.
Daisy rolled her eyes. "Squiffy."
"Yup, and so should yooo—oo be." Milly giggled.
"Put the mask on, please," Ruthie said in an undertone.
"Keep ‘em all happy. It's nothing too awful I promise."
Daisy had to believe her. She nodded and let Ruthie slip the mask over her head. "Can you see?"
"Not a sausage."
"You might." Millie giggled before she was hushed up.
The car drew to a stop, and Daisy took a deep breath. She'd told Alex she had a night out with her friends to celebrate their marriage, and he'd laughed. "Don't get into mischief and think of me spending the evening with clients. I bet you'll enjoy yourself more than I will." She wasn’t so sure.
"Why do I feel like a lamb to the slaughter?" she muttered as she let herself be helped out. A wicked breeze blew her skirt, and she shivered. Slaughter or not, she needed to get inside before she froze her ass off.
"Shh, it's all in good fun."
She hoped so.
****
A couple of hours later, the smile she fixed on her face when the blindfold was taken off was slightly more genuine. The elegant room they were in was warm, exquisitely furnished, and the perfect size for the five of them to sit in comfort around the circular satinwood table. The food was well presented and perfectly cooked, and the wine definitely didn’t come out of a box. The only niggle was that Alex hadn't answered her text she'd sent to say she was fine. Not that he knew she'd been going to contact him, but she was still enough of a newly-wed to expect an instant reply. She inwardly mocked her mumpy thoughts, and stood up to rattle her coffee spoon on her glass.
"Well, friends."
"Romans and countrymen" asked Milly. "Where are they all? Where's the slaves and the..." Her voice trailed off as Ruthie covered her mouth. Daisy grinned. Milly never changed.
"Nah, just you lot. Well I want to say thank you for a great evening, and I'd best be off."
"No chance, not yet. Sit." Ruthie used her spare hand to drag Daisy back into her seat and waved her hand in the air. It seemed it was a sign for something.
Seven Sinful Secrets Page 2
