Charm

by Flora Dain

  ‘You looked sensational tonight. You should spend my money more often.’

  My heart gives a leap but he’s avoiding my question. Maybe he has no answer.

  Soon it hardly matters as I writhe beneath him. Thanks to his determined attentions before we went downstairs my arousal has been pulsing steadily all evening, flaring anew at every touch of his hand, every glance from his dark eyes. Now it erupts into flame and I start to throb. He shifts away, reaches round, unfastens my zipper and peels away my slender gown like banana skin.

  I smile, still uncertain of his mood but pretty sure where we’re going. ‘Money’s all you think about. You should get out more.’

  He eyes me lazily, sweeping some hair away from my eyes where it’s worked loose from my careless chignon. ‘Hey. I am out.’ His erection bats eagerly against my hip. His voice lowers to a purr as he lowers his head and touches his lips to the side of my neck. ‘Now let’s see what you can do with it.’

  He leans back on the pillows and hauls me up on top of him, laughing as I straddle his thighs and take his hot, ridged length into both hands and stroke it firmly. As his chest starts to heave I flick my bra cups under my breasts to make them bulge a little, inflamed by the instant gleam in his eyes.

  I lean forward, bossy now, pushing them into his face with a playful gleam. ‘Make them wet. And make them tight.’

  He looks up at me in mock surprise. ‘Taking charge, Miss Dean? You might regret this.’

  ‘Let’s hope so.’ I present my sensitive, glowing breasts to him, tingling already and warm with arousal. He fastens his mouth on first one side and then the other, sucking hard, raising my nipples to hard, tingling points. My aureoles glow even darker as need pools between my thighs. Sensation shimmers all the way down the backs of my legs.

  In his greedy mouth my breasts tighten and grow heavy, my nipples close to numb. Down below I’m throbbing painfully and to my joy so is he. His erection jolts against my gaping dip, teasing my gaping, exposed places with urgent jabs as I try to take control. I move slowly against him, letting the soft warmth of my belly curve over his shaft while I stroke it with soft, eager fingertips, careful not to bring him on too far or too soon. His breathing quickens and I laugh softly at his impatience.

  At last he pushes me away to fondle my moistened, heavy breasts. Smiling, well aware of my game, he takes them in his hands and kneads them painfully, making me cry out in protest as he tweaks my nipples to pebble-hard nubs.

  ‘No, it’s too much. I can’t bear it.’ I try to squirm away but he pulls me forward with a relentless grip and a lazy grin.

  ‘You were warned. You started this – you’ll finish it. Now me.’

  I shift position, panting, and kneel next to him, curving over his glorious, rippling body as I lick and kiss his tiny nipples, teasing them into sharp little nubs and feeling him catch his breath as I finger them and tweak each one in turn. But now his hand is busy down behind my back, and where his arm was curling round my bottom his hand is now caressing my wide-splayed dip with loving, deliberate sweeps of his palm.

  I look up from under my eyelashes. ‘What’s happening back there?’ But I’m beginning to guess. And deep down my lower belly is aflame and everywhere down south starts to glow as his fingers ease deliberately into me, slipping into first one place and then the other, his firm, deliberate touch sparking urgent, fiery hunger in places I’ve never thought had needs at all, let alone as wicked as this.

  He watches me closely as his busy fingers work their magic. ‘Spread your thighs. Lean back onto my hand.’

  Shocked, I do it, spurred to launch a trail of hot, hard kisses all along his heaving chest. When I reach his navel I linger, relishing the tiny ripples of pleasure I sense under my lips spreading out over his taut abdomen when I jab the hard, salty little dip with the tip of my tongue.

  And at last I reach the hot, jutting column of power that leaps impatiently next to my cheek. It seems to glow hotter the closer I get – or maybe it’s just my impatience to reach it.

  I take the head into my mouth but his fingers are busy at my other end. Now they find their goal and he slips two, then three, right up inside me, making me gasp around his shaft. He starts to move them, parting them slightly to spread me open.

  I’ve never been penetrated there before and the effect on my throbbing, swollen sex is instant. My arousal leaps into overdrive as I hear his voice, a low snarl, terrifyingly intense.

  ‘Don’t stop. Keep going.’

  Arousal surges through me, partly from his tone of command, partly from the new sensations rocketing though me from his wicked fingers. With a lunge I take him deep in one delicious, lustful gulp, working hard with my tongue to moisten it all and then plunging along it in long, regular strokes all the way to his root, easing back with a shudder as his fingers plunge deep at my other end, ease out a little and plunge again. I feel filled and invaded, primed for pleasure.

  Now I push forward eagerly, riding him faster but it’s hard to focus with so much happening in my rump. The pleasure is so intense and unexpected, the position so shaming.

  It’s delicious and sinful. I want to savour it, enjoy it to the full but my mouth’s full of his burning, eager gristle and pleasure’s creeping over me unbidden while I shift position to take him deep.

  At this angle, and relaxing between strokes, I can just about manage him through the stifling gag reflex. But soon it’s all I can do to stay on topic. He’s filling my mouth in a steady, rhythmic surge, glorious and hot, while his hand is filling me up somewhere else, somewhere outrageous and forbidden, and in the wide open gaping apex between my thighs my climax is building all by itself, painfully high, needing only the barest touch to explode into rapture and send me into an ocean of pleasure.

  It never comes. Instead I’m sucking him hard and fast now, riding his length with the fierce, short strokes I know he’ll like, and then, just to surprise him, I pull away and take him between my hot, bulging breasts, pushing them together to enhance the friction for the last few strokes while the burning, purplish head glows against my milky skin. The tendons on his neck stand out like rods as he starts to pump, his iron discipline undermined by my sudden capture. His creamy gush floods my breasts with warm, milky honey.

  He watches lazily as I rub my breasts together, triumphant now as his fluid flows over my curves, glazing my globes so they shine like gelled peaches.

  ‘Hey. That’s hot.’ He’s panting now, his eyes gleaming softly.

  Game to me.

  I beam down at him, out of breath and still juddering against his hand as he takes shameful control of my tail end. Now he claims revenge as he shifts position and his thumb, slick with my juices, searches out my aching bud. I arch my neck and scream as he tips me over the edge, stabbing the pad of his thumb repeatedly against my oozing little pink button like a power tool. I convulse over his hand, curled up with ecstasy, and let the spasms judder through me. Then I collapse across him, panting and spent, and he laughs softly from the superior height of his pillows.

  ‘You have hidden talents, Miss Dean.’

  Game all.

  * * *

  I wake late in the night, alone on the bed. Around me the hotel is quiet. We fell asleep together like couples often do after sex. It felt normal and friendly.

  But he never stays.

  I stare up at the ceiling and wonder what woke me. Then I hear it again.

  It’s that man.

  I forgot to mention it to the desk staff this morning. I really must do something about him. He’s getting on my nerves. I frown, sleepy again.

  I know that voice. It’s oddly familiar, a voice from the past but I can’t place it. He sounds close. Who is it?

  Just before sleep comes I see an image of Darnley that first night, checking his tie in the mirror. Me saying, ‘I don’t normally do this.’

  Him glancing sideways. ‘Me neither.’

  CHAPTER TEN

  The following morning Darnley’s a no-s
how at breakfast. In fact the suite’s so quiet I wonder if he’s checked out, but his suits and shirts are still neatly stowed in his room and his bed is made up.

  As I finish my cereal a call to the desk draws a blank on where he is and they’re no more forthcoming about my mystery voice. The clerk patiently assures me no one else shares our floor.

  Hotels move in mysterious ways.

  At least my hire car is out front ready to roll, freshly valeted and full of gas. I check my map, pull out of the hotel driveway and head north up Interstate 35 towards Gainesville, where Ryan says I’ll find his motel.

  Soon I’m free of the sprawling city and on the road. There’s pounding country music on all the local radio stations and a big holiday grin on my face. I check repeatedly in my rear-view mirror but no dark, sinister cars are tailing me today. I let the wind ruffle my hair and for the first time I start to relax.

  For once Darnley’s seen sense enough to let me do my own thing. High time.

  But as I drive on he still fills my head as I replay last night, feeling wetness pool in my jeans just thinking about him.

  I’m like a teenager in the grip of a first mind-blowing crush. And yet our interplay is so much more. His watchful air, his dark moods hint all the time at something deeper but whenever I get close he pulls back.

  Why?

  A chink in his armour opened up last night, after a long, teasing session when I gave as much as I took. All at once he pinned me down by the wrists, rolled on top of me and narrowed his eyes to slits. ‘You’re the first woman I’ve met who wants sex like this. It’s very refreshing.’

  I was still giddy with orgasm, bold with triumph, on top of the world.

  Another time I’d ask what women, how many. Instead I grinned like an idiot, high on pleasure. ‘How do other women want it, then?’

  I hardly cared about his other women. When I’m in his arms there’s only him and me. When I’m with him he’s all mine. That’s all that counts.

  His face grew grave. ‘They use it. They use it to buy things. You do it just for fun. At least I thought you did.’

  Slowly I leaned up, my blood chilling. ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

  He lay back next to me, his eyes dark and unreadable in the low light from one lamp – all we’d needed to explore each other, all he’d needed to tease me into a frenzy, all I’d needed to repay him, as best I could, all the time some part of me was being held down, pinned back, tormented, teased, spanked a couple of times or eagerly and disgracefully licked.

  ‘I still have to decide how deep you are in Mitchell’s plan. You say you know nothing about it. You launched yourself at me like a missile the night we met. But your name is on those documents and you’re down here now looking for him. Even when he plays hide and seek. You see my problem?’

  I held his gaze, my heart pounding as my sluggish brain struggled to keep up. ‘You still think I’m a honey-trap?’ My heart sank.

  I can’t think why. I’d be terrible at it. I meant it when I said I’m an honest person. That’s why Ryan’s deceit got to me so badly – still gets to me. That’s why I want to talk to him. Even after all he’s done I still can’t believe he can be this bad.

  Now Darnley leaned up next to me, rising like an angry god from some Elysian slumber. He pushed me back down onto the bed, his eyes blazing. ‘It’s possible. You’re not the first.’

  I swallowed, fighting down a surge of panic at this glimpse of past liaisons. I drew in a deep breath and kissed him lightly on the cheek. ‘I’m just a teacher, remember? You watch too much TV.’

  He moved lewdly against my hip, a cruel grin twisting the end of his mouth. ‘You’re certainly a teacher. And way more fun than TV.’ Without warning his face clouded. ‘Tell me where you’re going tomorrow.’

  I stiffened. ‘No. Darnley, I’ll be fine. Now drop it.’

  He dropped it fast. He shot to his feet, stalked out the door and slammed it shut. I’ve not seen or heard from him since.

  Never take on a control-freak. Either they win or you lose.

  * * *

  With a sigh I tune back into the Texan landscape and try to focus. If I miss the Forkways turning I’ll be in Oklahoma and Ryan will probably slip away again and I’m determined to have a straight talk with him and get this ironed out once and for all, if only to prove to Darnley high-and-mightyWolfe that I can.

  The road north soon grows quiet, with fewer cars and nothing but the hard, hot Texan sunlight on the straight tarmac stretching out to the horizon, shimmering like water in a heat-haze mirage.

  I like landscapes I know. Hunting shady ex-lovers in out-of-the-way places is no way to fritter away my all-too-short vacation and the hot Southwest has none of the soft contours I’m used to. As if to prove me wrong the landscape opens into some spectacular greenery and I’m cruising past the sprawl of Ray Roberts Lake.

  At last I see a small sign pointing to Forkways Motel and I turn off the interstate. The road quickly becomes a dirt track. I only hope the hire car has tough tyres or I’ll need a call-out.

  When I finally pull in I sit in the car for a few minutes wondering if this is really the place. It’s very quiet here. Through the open windows I can hear crickets and bullfrogs. The air seems heavy with heat, the interstate traffic barely a low hum in the distance.

  The motel looks tired and run-down. I’m sitting in a gravel-strewn courtyard in front of a low-rise ranch building with rows of shabby wooden cabins in a two-storey block at one side. It has a dusty gallery and a short flight of steps.

  The sign creaks a little as it swings on the post by the entrance.

  We must be miles from anywhere.

  The desk is deserted but a clerk appears in jeans and a sweat-stained T-shirt, grinning as he wipes his hands on an oily rag. ‘Hi there. Y’all wanna check in?’

  ‘I’m meeting someone. Mitchell?’

  The clerk gives me a knowing grin. ‘Sure thing, lady. Room 211. Go on up, he’s expectin’ y’all. Take the steps past the cars and it’s the second one along.’

  Outside I count the cars. Only two or three besides mine so one must be Ryan’s. For holiday time near a busy road, business seems pretty slow.

  I knock at number 211. After a moment the door opens and I slip inside.

  The shades are drawn and it takes a moment for my eyes to adjust after the glare of the sun. As I blink in the sudden gloom I realise with a spike of alarm that nothing in my life has prepared me for this moment.

  Ryan is sitting facing the door, on what appears to be the only chair. On the bed sprawls a woman – glossy, high-maintenance. She looks like she’s stepped out of a photo-shoot. And as the door closes softly behind me I spin round to see a small, dark-haired man.

  With a gun.

  ‘No noise. We don’t want no trouble. We just wanna talk.’

  I stare at Ryan, fighting down panic. ‘What’s going on?’

  He gets to his feet and walks towards me with a friendly smile. ‘Like the man said, we just want to talk. First, I’ll make some introductions. This is Freda – you’d have met before but you stormed out before I had the chance to introduce you.’

  Freda eyes me warily. Something about her shape or her hair might be familiar but Ryan’s smug tone is all I need to understand instantly that this is the upgrade.

  ‘Tom, you can put that away. Miss Dean’s an intelligent woman. I’m sure she’ll be no trouble. Tom’s a friend of Freda’s and he helps me out on occasion. Like when people I want to talk to are sleeping with people I don’t want to talk to.’

  I shake my head slowly. ‘Ryan, you’re crazy. What do you think you’re playing at, cops and robbers? All this trouble over some two-bit gizmo? Is it worth it?’

  His easy smile vanishes and now I see the Ryan I’m used to – petty and sly and keener to impress the people around him than to use his head.

  ‘Two bits? I know math’s not your strongest suit, honey, but last time I looked five million dollars added up to a lot
more than twenty cents. Freda, move over. Tom, make us some coffee. El, you sit down and make yourself at home while I fill you in.’

  As Ryan talks I realise with a sinking feeling that Darnley was right about the patents scam but he missed out the funny part. When Ryan registered the paperwork in my name the registration system accepted the ID he offered and the signature he’d forged. Now he’s trying to transfer it to his own name but the scan-ware is newer, more sophisticated and reports a mismatch.

  They need me to verify it in person.

  So Mr Whizz-kid Techno-Security expert has been out-whizzed by newer technology. If I didn’t have a gun pointed straight at my guts I’d laugh out loud.

  ‘So you stole a secret?’ I stick to basics, still finding it hard to believe.

  Freda stonily passes me a cup of coffee. I don’t want one but I need something. Ryan gives me a careless smile. He tosses his hair back in the vain, girlish flick I recall from the dancefloor. ‘It’s not really stealing, El. I’d worked on it too. Most of the idea was mine.’

  Now the woman quickly joins in. ‘And some of it was mine, honey, don’t forget.’

  ‘You keep out of this.’ Ryan glares back at me, irritated now. ‘And I can’t steal what’s mine, now can I?’

  I frown at him and now he spoils his own argument. ‘We’d share the money, El. We’ll make it worth your while.’ The warning looks he darts at the other two suggest this idea’s new and unpopular.

  ‘In your dreams, Ryan.’

  His eyes grow hard. ‘Grow up, El. What’s five million to a man like him? Have you any idea what he’s worth?’

  ‘No, I never asked. And that’s beside the point. Other people were involved in this. It wasn’t just you. This is wrong, Ryan. I hoped what Darnley said was wrong. Now I see it’s you who’s wrong. This is stealing, pure and simple. So nothing doing. You got yourself into this mess, you get yourself out.’

  Angrily I rise to my feet. Instantly I’m pushed off balance. I land on the bed in a heap and when I sit up again the gun is pointing right in my face.