Hell's Music

by Therese von Willegen

  “I know, but I don’t know what else to say.”

  They paused for a moment then laughed.

  “Oh, sod it, let’s just enjoy ourselves,” said Emily. “I’ve spent the past two years being extremely boring. Actually, no, wait. I should include the other two boring years before that.”

  “How come?”

  She shrugged. “Just a really uninspiring ex. Nothing worth talking about, especially not now.”

  “I won’t pry. At least he wasn’t a raging monster who beat you, or cheated on you with other women.”

  “He cheated on me with a guy. I evidently wasn’t good enough.”

  Simon didn’t quite hide his shock. “Oh.”

  “I was silly. I should have seen it coming, but to be quite honest, it was almost a relief when it finally happened. I wasn’t exactly miserable in the relationship, but I definitely wasn’t happy. Girlfriend by default until he grew a set of balls to come out of the closet.”

  “The operative word being ‘come’?”

  “That’s rude!”

  A blinding camera flash severed their conversation. Emily gasped and turned, only to be blinded by another explosion of light. With a wordless roar Simon leaped up and ran, surprising her with the sudden fury of his movement.

  By the time she’d blinked away the after-images, Simon pushed a man up against the wall. The waiter who’d been about to bring them their drinks flapped about ineffectually.

  “No, sir! Please, sir! Don’t, sir!” The waiter pranced from foot to foot.

  The blond man Simon pinned against the wall merely gazed at him calmly, the slightest smile playing on his features, the kind of look that almost dared Simon to do worse. This was the guy who’d entered her shop the day she met Simon.

  Emily rose, more puzzled than alarmed.

  “Can’t you just leave me alone?” Simon shouted. He pulled back a fist.

  The man stood with his hands back, the camera held out of harm’s way, the slight smile turned into a nasty grin. “Now, now, Si. You know you really don’t want to cause me bodily grief.”

  Emily was certain Simon would knock the guy’s lights out, but he must have reconsidered, because his shoulders slumped. Instead he pushed the man away, turned and approached the table.

  His eyes were flinty. “Come, Emily. We’re not staying here a moment longer.”

  Shocked into silence, Emily acquiesced, not complaining when Simon held her wrist a little too hard as he all but dragged her out of Carmen’s.

  She waited until they reached the car before she spoke. “What was that all about? That was the man who followed you into Interzone the other day.”

  Simon unlocked the Alfa. His only response was to mutter under his breath.

  The whole evening had been ruined and she wasn’t sure she even wanted him to drive her home if he were going to be in such a rotten mood. Besides, it frightened her that he could react with such fury.

  “Si.” Emily kept her voice quiet but firm, not getting into the car. “Speak to me or else I’m going to walk home.”

  He gave a deep sigh and leaned his arms on the car’s roof. “I’m sorry, okay? The guy’s been harassing me since I came back to Cape Town.”

  “Why?”

  “If you must know, he works for the Adamastor Mirror.”

  “Why’s he taking photos of you?” Surely if Simon were some celeb or a criminal she’d have heard about it by now.

  “Let’s not talk about it now, okay? Let’s just go. Anywhere but here.”

  Once again that sense that she knew Simon from somewhere niggled, but judging by the set of his lips, now wasn’t a good time to dig for further information. Must just be the old days, an old band poster or something.

  Would she be able to salvage the evening? Emily got into the car and fastened her seatbelt. Simon pulled away so hard the tires squeaked and she was jerked back into her seat.

  “I sometimes...lose my temper.”

  “So long as you don’t lose it with me, all right?” All she wanted to do right now was thump him. There had been times she’d smacked her cousin, Eric, for less.

  He gripped the steering wheel hard, his knuckles white.

  She couldn’t let the evening end on such a sour note. The thought of him dropping her off at home to spend the night on her own when this could have been so much more, stung. Despite her good senses warning her she was being foolish, she said, “You could always have supper at my place. That’s if you don’t mind eating basmati rice and stir-fried greens, ‘cause that’s about all I have.” And just maybe, if she were lucky, her kid sister would be out gallivanting.

  Simon’s death-grip on the steering wheel lessened somewhat. “You sure? Maybe it’s better if we just call it a night.”

  “No. Really, it’s fine.” God, she sounded a tad bit desperate. Emily stared at her hands and threaded her fingers together. She took a steadying breath then turned to him. “I’d like to enjoy what’s left of tonight.”

  “I feel really shit for overreacting like that earlier. You must think I’m a complete bastard.”

  “It’s okay. I just wasn’t expecting such an...extreme reaction.” It wasn’t really okay, but she wasn’t going to let on now, was she?

  “The guy’s a real asshole. Been pestering me ever since I returned as he reckons he can get an inside deal on some of the celebrity bullshit doing the rounds overseas. Some of the people I’ve been hanging with have been…in the news of late. Caught him lurking outside my apartment a week ago, almost as bad as the crazy-fuck stalkers... But, anyway, least said, soonest mended.”

  It didn’t sound as though he gave the entire story but, judging how tense he was, Emily bit her tongue. After all, whatever happened in the States should stay there, as far as she was concerned.

  Only the outside light was on when they pulled up outside Emily’s house. Her heart raced. Perhaps it wasn’t such a good idea bringing him into her home, yet perversely she was glad it looked as if her sister were out. She could do without an audience, especially if said audience could offer running commentary for days after.

  Simon paused as he got out of the car and looked up and down the street. The word paparazzo came to mind. What on earth was Simon hiding from her, being deliberately vague? She studied his profile, so horribly familiar, but she couldn’t place her finger on it. With a shake of her head, she unlatched the front gate and took the slate steps two at a time to get to the top in order to unlock the door before Simon reached the entrance.

  When she glanced back, she saw a curtain twitch in the window of the house across the street. Bloody old Mrs. De Wet. Emily frowned. The craggy, old cow would no doubt be on the phone with someone now to share the news with her friends that Emily had a gentleman visitor–a man with long hair, who was dressed in black. Oh, imagine the scandal. A cold smile leaped to Emily’s lips. Well, let them talk. She didn’t care. She hadn’t invited scandal into her life for far too long.

  Some of the tension left Simon’s bearing once she’d locked the door behind him. He stepped into the dining room to admire the bookshelves and paintings. “Nice. Always wondered what these old places looked like on the inside.”

  “It’s my aged aunt’s house. She’s moved to a retirement village, but she didn’t want to sell up. Besides, she enjoys having the rent to supplement her investments. The paintings aren’t exactly my taste, but I haven’t found anything to replace them yet. That is an original Claerhout, however.” Emily took Simon’s hand and led him to the kitchen, ushering him to the nook. “But we’re not here to discuss boring old-people’s art. You sit. Pour the rest of that wine.” She placed two tumblers before him. “The attrition of wineglasses in this household has been something awful. These will have to do.” She had to laugh at her choice of words. They sounded like something out of an Evelyn Waugh novel.

  He flashed her a grin. “I’m sure the wine will taste as good, if not better.”

  Fantastic. The Simon she liked started to show. Whi
le she prepared the food, their conversation eased and, as the wine flowed, so did the laughter.

  “Pity about Carmen’s,” Simon said while they ate.

  “Maybe some other time?” She hardly dared to hope.

  He shrugged. “I’ll have a word or two with that man’s editor first. Not that it will help. The guy’s a right royal pain in the arse. At least the senior journalist there wouldn’t dare.” He smirked, but didn’t share what was obviously a private joke.

  “Not with your fists I hope.” Emily put her hand before her mouth, afraid at having caused him offense.

  Simon paused, frowning, but surprised her by laughing. “God, woman, you should see your face. No. Not with my fists. I promise you that.”

  “Why–”

  He held up his hand. “I’m trying to forget about it, okay?”

  “You’re right.” Guilt flooding her, Emily looked down at her near-empty plate. Damn, this wasn’t going quite the way she wanted.

  “Look at me, Emily.”

  His rich baritone made her shiver and she complied, unable to tear her gaze from his.

  “There’s absolutely no need to behave like a deer caught in headlights. I don’t bite...much.” A wolfish grin played across his features and he caught her hand in his, fingers brushing against her wrist, so her skin rose in goose flesh. “This evening is supposed to be about us. We can leave all the nonsense outside the door, can’t we?”

  Heat spread out from the contact and Emily couldn’t help a slight tremor. Afraid of her reaction, she slipped her hand from his and rose. “Do you want some coffee?” Her chest felt tight. What in the hell had she gotten herself into? She should be over the moon that she’d gone this far with the guy, but why was she balking at this point? Perhaps it was because Simon wasn’t nearly as safe as she’d first considered him to be. But this frisson of danger only made this situation far, far more intoxicating. Simon was everything Adrian hadn’t been.

  Simon leaned back and stretched his long legs beneath the table, his gaze never once leaving hers. “Sure. Coffee sounds good.” That exotic American drawl had returned. Emily had absolutely no doubt he knew exactly what effect he had on her.

  Emily regained some confidence, busying herself with the kettle and coffee plunger. She took deep, steadying breaths. All the while he watched her, not saying anything.

  “Want to go sit outside in the courtyard?” she asked once she’d finished preparing the tray.

  “Sure.” He followed her through the door.

  Outside the cricket chorus almost drowned out the city’s ever-present rumble of traffic. Emily tried hard to smile despite her nerves. When last had she been this reckless? When last had she felt this present?

  The night was still balmy and a slight breeze raised the small hairs on her arms. They settled on the bench beneath the vines, which formed a thick canopy that only allowed occasional stars to peek through.

  “A nice night.” Simon sounded resigned, somehow, and tired.

  She glanced at him then settled back, so they almost touched. “I often sit out here during the summer. It’s quite sheltered, even when the southeaster blows.”

  “I envy you this, you know? My life has been...busy. Never stopping. Never getting a chance to catch my breath.”

  A laugh escaped her lips. “Mine is the complete opposite. It’s taken me until tonight to realize it’s been too quiet. I just never get out. Haven’t really done anything in the two years it’s taken me to get the shop to break even. I could blink and a decade could quite easily have passed and I’d be some dried-up spinster.”

  “Never. Some lucky man would have swept you off your feet.” Simon grimaced.

  “What?”

  “Just thinking the sheer randomness of us meeting. I normally would never have gone walking down Long Street save that I had to collect something from a business associate.”

  “It’s fortuitous.”

  “Blind luck.”

  A lock of hair fell across his face as he put sugar in his coffee, and Emily couldn’t resist the urge to push it behind his ear. For a moment he froze at her touch, but allowed her to complete the action while he stirred the coffee. The half-dozen silver rings piercing his lobe clinked musically when she trailed her finger across them.

  The man took a careful sip of the hot beverage and regarded her wordlessly before he placed the cup back on the tray. “So beautiful, you know that?” His fingers brushed her knee, coming to rest on her thigh where they squeezed slightly.

  Emily suppressed a sharp gasp. This entire situation was inevitable, like static crackling in the air between them. “So you going to sit and stare at me the whole night, or are you actually going to kiss me?” She hadn’t meant to sound so forward, but the need to counter his audacity made her far more reckless than she was used to.

  Simon cupped the back of her head, pulled her toward him and nibbled at her lips, small, hungry kisses both hesitant and suggestive. Emily took this as her cue to slide her hands over his shoulders and around his neck, allowing him to lean into her. She couldn’t help but compare him to Adrian, who’d been somewhat wiry and had never moved with such self-assurance. He’d been more apt to hold her as though she were a live snake.

  The patchouli scent filled her senses, and she shivered when Simon’s hand grazed her nipple through the thin cotton of her dress.

  “You’re not wearing a bra, you evil, evil woman,” he whispered in her ear.

  “I normally don’t bother.”

  Simon deepened the kiss and pressed his lips to hers with more force. His tongue snaked to meet hers, a brief flicker as she slipped her hands beneath his shirt to scratch lightly with her nails across his back.

  With a groan, he hefted her upright and pulled her into a seated position astride his thighs. “Why do I get the idea you’re actually one heck of a wild, wild woman?”

  “Because appearances can be deceiving.” Emily nipped at an earlobe, satisfied when he squeezed her backside. “And here I thought you were just some lout of a metal head up to no good in my shop. You might actually be useful for something, after all.”

  It thrilled her to take the upper hand and Emily sensed she could quite possibly push the limits with Simon. He watched her, his lips slightly parted and lids lowered, and she returned his gaze, trailing her hands down his chest to lift the front of his shirt. The skin of his torso was smooth to touch, and just as tattooed as his back with the same design of tormented demon things that gave the appearance of struggling through his flesh.

  He allowed her to undo the buttons one by one and bite lightly at the hollow of his throat until she teased first one then the other nipple with teeth and tongue. It excited her far more than she’d like to admit when he raised his hips, so the evidence of his lust was pressed against her.

  Just the thought of what lay ahead sparked warmth between her legs and Emily leaned back, resting her hands on his hips. “Should we take this inside?” Her blood thundered in her ears, but at this stage she was well past caring if the neighbors overheard. Give old Mrs. De Wet heart palpitations.

  A wicked grin twisted his lips. “I don’t think so.” Simon stood, gripped her firmly about the waist and lifted her. He turned, placing her on the bench. “It’s your turn to sit in the hot-seat.”

  He stifled her protests with another deep kiss that left Emily clinging to him like a drowning woman. She sought his shaft, massaging it through the denim, gratified by the way he pushed against her. Even through the fabric she could tell he was big, a lot bigger than...

  No! These comparisons to Adrian must end.

  But all thoughts of past encounters fled when he hiked her dress up and took turns with her nipples, his tongue tortuous as he described circles around the areoles. His hand supporting the small of her back, he pulled her panties down and over her feet, exploring her secret places, first stroking her mound before tentatively seeking her entrance with his finger.

  Ah hell, and he knew what he was doing, wit
h no hesitation on his part, building up a rhythm that had her pushing up her hips wanting, no, needing more.

  “I need–” A strangled cry escaped Emily’s lips.

  On the verge of jumping him and releasing him from his jeans herself, Emily was gratified when she heard the telltale tear of foil followed by the zipper. She lay back, eyes closed, her breath catching in her throat while she waited, the anticipation itself delivering almost as much ecstasy as what she knew would follow.

  She guided him into her with impatient hands, reveling in his fullness and how heavy his cock felt in her grasp. Simon knelt before her and pulled her slightly forward. Emily had to bite back the wild cry that wanted to escape, the mind-numbing pleasure of sheathing this man inside her sending off white-hot sparks behind her eyes.

  He took his time with her, withdrawing fully and pausing before her opening, so she whimpered until he plunged into her again, each time waiting for an eternity before repeating the movement. All the while, he played the hard nub of her clit, building the pressure and holding her at the crest of her release for so long Emily almost blacked out.

  When he let her fall into orgasm, it was as if she slammed into three successive tiers of pleasure, each ripping through her with such intensity it was almost a surprise for it to end.

  The first sound she became aware of was the cricket chorus, which sawed and chirped away. In the distance she could detect the muted rumble of the city’s traffic but, far louder, was Simon’s heartbeat. He’d pulled her to him so they lay entangled side by side, half sprawled off the bench. Where their skin made contact, a thin film of sweat had formed and his breathing was deep and even.

  Her body tingled and ached in all the right places, and Emily was content to lie in his embrace a while longer, glad for this time that she felt utterly desired.