by Lisa Torquay
“Please.” He lips formed without a sound.
He pulled her decisively, caught her nipple in between his teeth and suckled on it as she liked, her body rejoicing. Her head fell back, she groaned and grabbed his hair. He feasted on her other breast to her utter delight. He embraced her tight caressing her along her spine.
“Amy.” He murmured, mouth open on her skin.
“Hmmm.”
“Take your clothes off.” He rasped over her bosom. “I’m going to have you now.”
His words felt more exciting than a caress reaping through her body, making her want it all. She stood up unhurriedly. Her eyes on his. She took out her coat, her creamy skin for his appreciation. Thumbs hooked on the waistband, she lowered her pants and let them fall in a bunch at her feet, standing there in her lacy panties. She saw him regarding her with eyes full of steamy desire. He himself opened his trousers to reveal the extension of his need. She undressed that last piece and came on his lap.
His hands circled her narrow waist and he pressed her down on him. She revelled on the sensations it brought her. She breathed out in utter pleasure, her eyes closed, lips parted. And she moved, seeking the relief only he could provide, as his knowing fingers slipped between them. Faster and faster, bringing them both to the rims of blind agony.
Mark grappled her breast, circled his arms tight around her, trying vainly to catch a control that was already lost. His physical need for her seemed never to decrease. She alone knew how to take him to the borders of flammable insanity, like now. If she didn’t... If she couldn’t... Oh, God! She moved, taking him deeper. No, please; his thoughts ragged away. He heaved, his palms snatching her thighs. She was going so...so...
“Amy,” he panted, “don’t do it so...so...” He pleaded.
She was beyond listening. Her body arched, her head fell back, she moaned and clenched him too deliciously. He went off in a delirious flow, leaning back to allow his hips to push upwards in a series of tugs. She fell on him in heavy breaths.
Chapter XIX
MBS was sponsoring an exposition of modern art in one of London’s most renowned galleries. The opening would be that Thursday and all the staff was invited. The exposition was receiving extensive media coverage and Mark was put under the spot-light. So he decided to make good use of it.
Mark stood waiting for Amy in the sitting room. He didn’t have to wait long. Soon he heard her high-heeled sandals. As her full figure landed on the ground floor, Mark stared enchanted, dropped mouth. She dressed a long bare-shouldered cream-coloured satin dress that wrapped her lush body in the loveliest way. She tied her silky cinnamon ringlets up in a nineteenth century fashion that became her. Matching sandals and bag accompanied her style.
“You look stunning, Amy.” Mark murmured.
Amy smiled thanking him, but thought that he was none the less gorgeous. His tuxedo fell on his broad shoulders and muscled chest as a glove, making him look even taller and manly. His look brighter in contrast with the black fabric.
“There’s something missing.” Mark commented as his hand slipped into his pocket and came behind her.
A delicate diamond necklace slid around Amy’s neck. Mark clasped it closed and turned her to the mirror. Her fingers touched what seemed a piece of jewellery art, her breath caught in her throat.
“Oh, Mark! It’s beautiful!” She murmured surprised.
He laced by her waist and her body leaned tight on his. “You are.” His open lips grazed the nape of her neck in a tantalizing caress. Amy sighed as all her skin awakened to his caress.
“We’d better get going before I start having ideas.” Mark muttered in her ear.
The gallery was swarming with smart-dressed people and the press flustered around the famous faces. Flash lights came from everywhere and the hall was luxurious decorated.
Mark and Amy entered the hall where the paintings were hanging in a smart way. They strolled around appreciating the intricate pieces of art. Another huge one came into view, so strikingly colourful and lively. Amy looked at it amazed, parted mouth, wide eyes. Mark came behind her and discretely put his hands on her shoulders.
“Superb, isn’t it?” Mark murmured grave in her ear. He pulled her slightly closer.
“Intensely.” Amy responded without taking her eyes off the painting.
“Maybe we could buy this one.” He murmured, his head lowering even more to her ear in suggestive intimacy.
Amy just nodded flimsy as she continued in a seemingly aesthetic trance.
They were so immersed in each other that they were oblivious to the crowd around them. At a distance Juan and his date, Marjorie Watson, the gossipmonger receptionist observed the scene. Vexation crossed his brow as Marjorie stared chewing on this morsel of information. There was no doubt left as to the nature of their relationship.
Susan Baron and her husband approximated Mark and Amy. They smiled and started a relaxed small talk.
“Excuse me,” Mark said. “I’m going to fetch us something to drink.” And walked to the bar.
Amy and the Barons talked for a little while longer and parted to continue seeing the art pieces. She roamed around the paintings thinking that Mark was taking a little too long about a couple of drinks.
As she turned her head looking for him, she saw a dazzling blonde talking to him, too close, too flirty. She recognised the woman as Jill Simpson, the reporter of an important business newspaper. She had been to Mark’s office a couple of times for interviews and articles. The damn woman was using every excuse to touch him; each one stung Amy like chilli on her tongue. At first, Amy couldn’t define the bubbling acid flood that erupted from her depths. Quickly she turned to the nearest painting, staring at it blindly. She saw the whole picture, so to say. Jealous. She was tremendously jealous of the mature, self-confident woman. The acid flood spread all over her feelings and threatened to overflow. How to contain it was something unfiled in her life. She stood in front of that painting for what seemed forever in an attempt to keep the pressure pan from bursting.
The corner of her eyes registered someone standing beside her. Juan. He was the last creature on Earth she wanted to be sociable with at that moment. They spoke sparsely after the incident in her office and she thrived to keep it like that. In her point of view, Mark had overreacted, but Juan had been too invasive as well.
“Do you like this one?” He asked neutral.
“Quite nice.” She answered absently.
Juan took a sip of his Champaign. “I owe you an apology. And it’s overdue.”
She darted at him a looked back at the painting. “I agree with both statements.”
“I just thought I stood a chance, but I was clearly wrong.”
“Alright.” She retorted, still choking in her acid jealousy.
“Here’s your drink.” She heard Mark on her other side, timely as always.
“Thanks.” She took a long gulp.
“Torres.” Complimented Mark.
“Hi, Mark.” Devolved Juan cautiously.
Marjorie, who had been chatting with a colleague, neared the group and said hello to Mark and Amy cheerfully. An awkward silence followed as Marjorie linked her arm with Juan’s in an immature way of marking her territory.
“Come,” she tugged him. “I want to show you my favourite piece.” They excused themselves and walked away.
“Warm talk I saw you having back there.” The words escaped her mouth before she could stop them. She scolded herself silently.
Mark lowered his eyes to her and the world vanished. He understood. Of course he understood. How many times had he felt that way? Now she knew what it was like. Her stare wide and fiery on him. For those brief seconds hectic communication followed.
“She’s a vivacious person.” He commented coolly. He took her elbow and guided her ahead.
She yielded, but the corroding taste of her feelings remained.
Mark and Amy arrived home late and tired. As they lay down to sleep, Amy clung to him as i
f he’d suddenly leave her and Mark held her assuredly, content.
A rainy morning came pouring a grey light through the window finding them tucked in a bunch of messed duvet, which wrapped them like a nest. Mark turned half over Amy embracing her and burying his face in the curve of her neck. He sighed as his arm wormed around her waist. She started waking up, her leg spiralled around his and she held him by his broad shoulders. Half asleep, her lips draw a faint smile.
Happy. She was happy. She was invaded by a such sunny joyous feeling, difficult to describe. Heavens, she loved this man! More than she thought comfortable to admit.
Mark’s hand begun to roam over her body in a slow light caress. His lips grazed her neck while his nostrils inhaled the scent of her. He wanted to stay there the whole day. Forever. They should take some time off, go to a sun-filled desert island and languish in a bungalow the whole day. As his hand reached the base of her tantalizing breast his body stirred.
“Oh, Amy.” He groaned in a low male voice. “I cannot stay in bed. I have an early meeting.” He lamented.
“Neither can I.” She stretched and yawned. “Travis is in London and we have a long agenda to discuss.” She kissed his taut shoulder. “There are a number of things to decide and plan about Nice.”
He gave a boyish smile. “I am glad he came to London and not the opposite.”
When Amy arrived in her office, mid-morning, there was a message from Susan, who needed a quick word with her. Going down, and walking through the hallways she perceived the staff looking at her in a strange way. She didn’t care much. They weren’t used to her being there so often anymore. It was probably that. She knocked at Susan’s office.
“Hi, Amy! Come in.”
Amy entered and closed the door. She waited while the HR manager finished typing. She was a woman in her mid-thirties with honey-blond hair and placid blue-eyes.
“How’s little Toby?” She asked when Susan stopped typing.
Susan smiled tenderly. “He’s becoming an active little boy!”
“Isn’t it so lovely?” Amy commented with a smile.
Susan became serious again and looked at Amy speculatively. “I take it you haven’t heard the rustle as yet?”
“What about?” She didn’t have a clue as to what the manager meant.
“Well, it became rather...” She paused looking for the right word. “...unequivocal the nature of your connection to Mark yesterday at the opening.”
Amy glanced Susan wide eyed, a little at a loss what she meant at first. Then the memory of the familiarity she and Mark shared while admiring the paintings hit her. “Oh.” Was all she could produce. She was completely oblivious to her surroundings at the opening. The eye-catching paintings, Mark’s attentions and her reaction to Jill Simpson’s behaviour towards him monopolised her thoughts and actions. “I believe I wasn’t aware of it.” She said cautiously.
“So I reckoned.” Susan entwined her fingers on the desk. “But it’s been the coffee-break gossip today.”
“I see.” Only now had Amy realized she was gaping.
“I’m sorry if you feel awkward.” She shrugged. “Being the one who has a closer contact with you, I thought I should, you know, put you in the picture.”
“Yes, of course.” Amy forced herself to focus on the conversation. Thank you for that.”
“I mean, it’s not like no one had suspected it.” She eyed Amy apologetically. “I was still on leave, but I heard Mark was in a...difficult mood when you left the company.”
“I didn’t know that.” Amy rested her chin on her hand.
“I thought as much.” Susan nodded. “But after yesterday...” Needless to finish the sentence. It was implied that everyone became sure now. “Marjorie made it plain, actually.”
“Oh, dear.” It all hit Amy as she got a full idea of the extension of the whole thing. Fortunately, there was a recent celebrity scandal occupying the tabloids. Otherwise, she couldn’t forecast what would happen.
“I can see you’re not happy with that. You’re so reserved.” Susan added. “Maybe it’s better to know, though.”
“I agree, naturally.” Amy stood up. “I have to go now. I have a meeting with Travis.”
“Alright. If you need anything just tell me.” Susan was turning to her screen. “Let’s do lunch later, you, Travis and me. It’s a long time I don’t see him.”
Amy grinned and nodded before she left. She strode through the hallways ignoring the stares that followed her, as her mind was tracking down the facts. And the conclusion wasn’t very satisfying. Little difficult to see that Mark had a part in it. He was utterly upset about the episode with Juan in her office. Mark had eased his manipulative streak, but that didn’t mean he had quit it completely. She was certain that he intended for them to go public, in spite of her.
Obviously, the situation would have come to that sooner or later. Reclusion was not in their nature. There were friends, business associates, acquaintances with whom they kept contact. She couldn’t name what was that they had, but they had it nevertheless. Since she couldn’t forecast where they were going, she wasn’t in a hurry to expose it. It had been going on for quite a while, that was right. It smelled strongly as if Mark wanted to delimit territory. And that was precisely what was inacceptable. He probably wanted to keep Juan, specifically, at bay. The damn man had the power to irritate her to no end.
Amy and Travis had an extremely productive day. She tried to keep her personal misgivings out of her mind while working and seemed to have succeeded. They went for lunch with Susan and had a very relaxing hour.
Chapter XX
Amy was reclining on the chaise-longue in her home-office reading a book that evening when she heard Mark coming in. Her feelings about the day’s events were a little balled up, which affected her humour, giving it a stale taste. The book in her hand hadn’t changed its page since she opened it. There were many layers of feelings running in rivers inside her. There was that strong love she felt for him and its physical expression, which came intense and inexorable. There was her dislike of his possessive streak as it made her feel uncomfortable and a trifle without breathing-room. But his manipulative attitude scratched her sensitivity and she felt like she was caught in cobwebs every time it manifested itself. These jumbled thoughts cornered her as she couldn’t decide on which action to take.
She could hear Mark pacing downstairs, probably looking for her. In a matter of seconds he was climbing the steps up, two by two, if the time he took was anything to go by. His carpet-muffled footfalls neared her dimly lit home-office and his silhouette dominated the door-frame. He had already got rid of his tie and suit coat. Shoeless, his shirt was open at the neck. Looking at his magnetic figure, she took in his muscled body. The manly scent of him invaded the room, inebriating her, as usual. They stared at each other, intimacy and attraction flowing between them. Reactions reaped her involuntarily.
Mark could also feel her flowery soap fluttering in the room. He inhaled it together with her womanly perfume that awakened his senses and got him alert. The hobby fell perfectly on her reclining curves. The sight of her extracted a clear response from his body, readying it. In a question of seconds, he was hard and aching.
Despite her body, her emotions weren’t attuned. That made her refractory to the sparks in the room.
“Susan called me to her office to warn me about the rumours.” She settled her book aside, but didn’t sit up.
Mark put his hands in his pockets. “Seems like Marjorie keeps up with her communication skills.”
“So it does.” Her countenance was neutral.
“You don’t look very happy about it.” He leaned on the door-frame and crossed one leg over the other, his soft hair falling on his forehead.
“Bingo.” She pursed her lips.
“This would happen sooner or later.” His eyes hovered over her in clear appreciation.
“Especially if one encourages it.”
His stare darted back to hers but h
e didn’t reply.
“You manipulated the situation.” She ventured.
“I did.” He admitted boldly. “After the episode with Torres, something had to be done.
She faced him, deeming it rather cynical of him. “Apart from the fact that my say in the matter was overlooked.
“What would you have suggested instead?” He challenged.
“I was comfortable with how it was.” She shrugged.
“Which has gone on for long enough.”
“Indeed?” She asked ironically. She sat straight and eyed him directly.
“And then what? You wanted us to keep covering that which everyone must have suspected?” He took his hands out of his pockets and folded his strong arms on his broad chest.
The gesture made Amy look at him with increasing hunger, which she tried hard to swallow. “What bothers me is the way you manipulated this to your own convenience.”
“How can I manipulate something that’s almost public?” He arched his brows.
“You know you did it.” She said matter-of-factly. “I have difficulty to put up with this trait of yours.”
They fenced each other with their stares for several seconds.
“Your sense of independence is striking.” He said accusatorily. “It borders the fear of commitment!”
Her expression became a mask of anger. The barb reached home. She sprang from the chaise-longue, hands on her waist. “How dare you?” She drew up a long breath to calm the thundering of her upset heart. “If it was the case, I wouldn’t be here, deal or no deal!” She shivered when she saw his insolent eyes measuring her from head to toes, as if he could see through the hobby fabric. Nevertheless, she inwardly admitted that he was a bit right about her fear of commitment. It scared the devil out of her, but she’d never let him know that.
